#sometimes i fic

Prompt Generator Fic #6 (Repost)

Lady Penelope + Dealer’s Choice + dive

She climbed steadily, hand over hand over hand, her movements quick and certain. It was meant to be easy. In and out, no unknowns, no surprises.

Her five-minute window had shattered into a mere forty seconds and Lady Penelope had been forced to cobble together an escape plan of her own, using the limited, useless, outdated information with which she had been provided.

She had to assume her position, her motives – that everything had been compromised.

The receiver had been unceremoniously crushed beneath her boot as she sheltered in the cave system that led into the mountains, watching and waiting for her moment to make a break for it. If she were discovered, the least she could do was ensure no careless communiques would draw attention back to her friends, waiting for her return halfway around the world.

She didn’t dare transmit any messages either, no hint that she might still be alive.

Lady Penelope breathed in deeply, the sea air clearing her head and steeling her nerves. She could see how it crashed against the shore, the way one wrong move would send her into the depths, dashed against the rocks.

She pressed a hand to her side, checking that the databank was indeed secure.

Who knew, they might recover her body, find what was needed to put an end to this threat.

Or they might already have fled, the self-imposed blackout a clear warning to scurry back to their burrows.

If they had followed protocol, there would be no-one coming for her.

She examined the edge, unwilling to waste time and unwilling to commit. Twenty metres, down into the sea cave she knew rested at the base of the cliff, the rendezvous she would have swum into from the beach in a kinder world.

A distant shout echoed in her ears. She had been spotted at last. There was no room for error.

She dove.

Whistling air crashed into the thick syrup of bubbles in water as she desperately tried to gather her bearings without the aid of light. With her pursuers right on top of her, she knew there would be no resurfacing.

She kicked down, muscles rippling with the effort as she fought against natural buoyancy, straining for the dark crevice at the bottom of the sea.

The threshold came with a new chill on her skin and she looked around her for any sign of life.

There was nothing. No droning engines, no sudden burst of illumination.

Nothing.

A warm arm slithered around her and she gasped, spinning blindly and striking out at her assailant as her last bubbles of air floated upwards.

She still couldn’t see anything, her chest starting to burn as they wrapped around her, paying no mind to the way she thrashed around to get away.

A regulator was pushed into her mouth and unwittingly she began to breathe. Oxygen flowing steadily, she could recognise the material of the wetsuit, could see the faint impression of his face reflecting the dim glow of his dive computer.

Gordon hadn’t left after all.

He had begun to unwrap himself from her body as she stopped fighting him, instead slipping his hand into hers with a faint grin.

His fingers tapped against her palm and she caught the ancient rhythm of Morse code in his movement.

..-/— -.- [u ok]

-.– [y]

–. — - / .. – [got it]

-.–[y]

–. — — -.. [good]

A moment’s pause and he pulled her back to the entrance.

..- .–. [up]

The ocean was just as silent outside of the cave, but in the dull gleam of moonlight, she could see him lift a single finger to his lips.

- -… ….- / ….. —– – / — ..- - [tb4 50m out]

He tugged her gently and she swam with him, her hand never leaving his, eyes searching for the bright splash of yellow that signalled they had made it.

There it was, hanging silent in the deep water. She felt hope bloom in her chest, relief cascading through her body.

They’d made it.

The gurgle of water draining away, the rush of air, the happy hum of power being restored but all she could hear was Gordon’s delighted whoop as he wrenched the regulator away from his mouth and barrelled into her with a hug.

“Let’snever do that again,” he said, the adrenaline of the moment catching up as he fell into the seat next to her.

“I thought you’d left.”

It’s not what she meant to say, to sound quiet and small in their moment of triumph.

He looked up, eyes locking on hers.

“How could I leave?” he asked, bewildered. “You still needed me.”

His hand grabbed for hers again and she squeezed it tight.

“You should have left,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Prompt Generator Fic #5 (Repost)

Gordon + The Mechanic + Dealer’s Choice + night

It’s like there’s a ghost living in their house.

Gordon had figured the Mechanic would be the kind of man who can’t help but make noise when he moves but instead, he seems to step in and out of existence at his own leisure.

He still glared and demanded, still snarled at any outstretched offer of friendship.

This was a partnership, all but forced upon him, as he gleefully pointed out any time Scott got too high and mighty around him.

They needed him after all.

Pure necessity with no room for sentimentality.

Gordon can’t stop watching him.

If Virgil knew, he’d say something about how he no longer felt safe, watching the man who nearly tore him to shreds walk free in their home. He’d reforward discreet details of people who would help him cope.

But Gordon has never felt more at peace, at complete odds to the rest of his family.

Having Brains confirm the controller that forced the Mechanic into submission had left only sympathy for the man, forced into cruelty and then strangled by his own fear that his choices would be stolen, that his mind would never be safe.

Gordon knew better than the rest of them what it was to be trapped and out of options.

The night was clear and cool, the moonlight flooding the deck that led to the pool. The lights were off both inside and out and everyone had retired to bed.

Except for Gordon. And the Mechanic.

Gordon watched from the shadows, less worried about being seen and more about being run away from.

He slipped out from behind the curtain, towel in one hand and strode towards the pool.

The Mechanic didn’t move, transfixed as he stared upwards at the Milky Way that stretched across the sky.

Gordon threw the towel down, not bothering to muffle his actions.

Still nothing.

He studied the Mechanic for a moment, wondering how to draw his attention and not his biting fury. How to reach out and not be bitten.

He was starting to think that wasn’t possible.

And so Gordon fell back on his old method of how to act when he wasn’t sure what to do; he ran forward and leaped into the water, body folding instinctively into a perfect diving position.

By the time he reached the other side of the pool and dared look up, the Mechanic had turned and was staring at him without expression.

But he hadn’t disappeared.

He said nothing, but his eyes followed Gordon as he swum back and forth, taking his time to stretch out his muscles.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” he called.

The Mechanic glanced up at the stars.

“It is.” He considered Gordon carefully. “Why are you swimming in the dark?”

“It’s not exactly dark.”

“Then why now? Why so late?”

“Eh, what’s a few hours between one routine and the next?” He grinned up at the Mechanic. “By dawn I could be out on another rescue. You’ve got to take opportunities as they come, you know?”

The Mechanic nodded before turning his back on Gordon.

“I do know,” he said softly.

Gordon cocked his head.

“Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

He lifted his lower body out of the pool, shivering as the chill in the air took hold. He moved slowly, like he were approaching a scared animal, intent on giving the Mechanic every opportunity to move away.

He laid a hand on his shoulder and the Mechanic flinched away, the gentle touch a brand of something so fierce and new that it burned to be in contact.

“Why not take this opportunity for a fresh start?”

“It’s not a fresh start when I tried to murder half your family. It’s not a fresh start when I know no-one wants me here, when I have to fight your brothers at every turn.”

He looked upwards, stars catching in his eyes.

“It’s not a fresh start when I know if it weren’t for your precious machines, I’d still be trapped up there, locked away with no hope of a life ahead of me except for one dictated by the Hood or the GDF.”

Gordon swallowed.

“Do you know why we’re building it?”

“You can’t believe your brothers would have shared that information.”

“You’re right,” he admitted. “They would never. So I will.”

He stepped forward, jabbing a finger at the sky.

“Out there? Somewhere? That’s where our dad is.”

The Mechanic squinted, looking doubtful.

“He’s trapped out there too.”

The Mechanic snorted.

“He’s dead, you mean.”

“No,” said Gordon, face shining with conviction. “He’s alive. I know it.”

He looked over and grimaced.

“I have no idea what would have happened if Brains hadn’t said he needed you. I think he could see something we couldn’t in you. Our dad always taught us that we should always help someone in need, and we failed you. But Brains didn’t, and it might have begun selfishly, but I’d like to change that if it’s not too late.”

He stretched out his hand between them and waited.

There was not betrayal of emotion on the Mechanic’s face, no hint as to how this would end.

He had to take on faith that the Mechanic was considering the offer seriously, rather than simply deciding on which imaginative way he would be pummelling Gordon into the ground.

A slight twitch of his arm and the Mechanic’s hand wrapped around his, giving it a firm shake.

“I could use another ally here,” he said slowly. “Thank you.”

Gordon smiled.

“I think you’ll find,” he said lightly. “That what you could use here is another friend.”

Prompt Generator Fic #4Headcanon

(Actually this one is not a repost bc I never posted it… just musings on the prompt :P Feel free to start a conversation about it)

Gordon + John + Headcanon + leave

“Leave” brings to mind leaving the island. And I know everyone’s immediate reaction is ABSOLUTELY NOT none of them is EVER leaving how dare you even suggest it and like… I dare to suggest it because they all need space to grow and the island can’t give them that. I’m not super outgoing, but I value community and love to be around people so naturally that’s skewing my view, but like don’t you remember being in your late teens in particular – but also your early twenties – and wanting to build something separate from your family, something that was yours? It’s not a rejection of family to want something for yourself, it doesn’t mean you don’t love them, or that you can’t work towards goals together or anything like that.

And this is about Gordon and John, the two most middle children to have ever middle child-ed. You can’t tell me that they wouldn’t want to break free and forge their own paths. I mean they already have to an extent - I think it’s a fair interpretation that they’re the ones who’ve crafted a unique space in iR in a way that Scott, Virgil and Alan haven’t.

Anyway specific headcanonning as per the prompt

I fully believe Gordon lived pretty much independently from his family during his high school years because they all went to the island and he stayed behind to train on the National Swim Squad and for the Olympics and things, and as such I don’t believe he was on the island when Jeff disappeared. He’d visited, but it was never home to him, although it became that when he committed to International Rescue. And although I see him wanting to stay involved for a long time – I also can see him breaking off and establishing a Northern branch with Penny. He has contacts in the business, people he can trust and I think Gordon more than any of them needs a space for his own, partially because of that independent streak and partially I think to prove that he can.

John, of course, can hear an accusation in his family’s messages every time he goes to his own home, the faint whisper of how John always leaves. And that’s why I think he’ll stay the longest – not only because he loves what he does, even when it’s hard – but also to prove that he’s not the one who leaves, he’s never been the one who leaves. So he’ll break off last, if he does at all, and to be honest – if he breaks off it’ll be because he is leaving an active role with International Rescue for good. Whereas Gordon might not stay on the island, but he’ll stay with iR a long time yet.

Prompt Generator Fic #3 (Repost)

Alan + Brains + Tension

“And what does that do?” asked Alan, swinging his legs wildly and kicking at the air.

“That is n-not for small hands,” said Brains, promptly picking up the mechanism from the counter Alan was sitting on.

“But what does it do, Brains?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“You tell me,” he said, holding it up so his young companion could see it clearly.

Alan bent over the open motherboard embedded in the handle, fingers tracing the circuitry in the air.

“That’s an infrared sensor, right? And it’s automated?”

“G-good, what else?”

“Well, I’m guessing that part goes ‘snap’,” said Alan, pointing at the metal trap. “Because otherwise, you wouldn’t have grabbed it so fast.”

“Hmm,” said Brains, lifting an eyebrow. “N-not quite the explanation I was h-hoping for, but you’re not wrong.”

“Well, then you tell me,” he said, slumping against the wall.

“It’s a f-failsafe for cables,” explained Brains, turning it over as he spoke. “When the tension increases, the temperature will increase too. Since we know the m..maximum tension the cable can hold before it deforms, we can detect when the tension is getting too high and then–”

“Snap!” said Alan, clapping his hands for effect.

Brains nodded.

“Exactly right. It will clamp the two ends of the cable and set off a radio signal to apprise us of the situation.”

“International Rescue, we have a situation,” Alan mimicked, hands over his mouth to simulate a walkie-talkie.

It would nearly be time for another birthday, Brains realised with a pang, nearly a year since he’d built the shortwave radios with Virgil.

So much had changed.

Alan cocked his head as he stared at the mechanism.

“How does this know what the temperature should be?” he asked.

“You mean the sensor? We p-program it.”

“No, I mean because different parts of the world are hot or cold. We were learning about the different habitats in school the other day.”

“I see,” said Brains, who most certainly did not see.

“Yeah, and my project is on the Arctic tundra and Sophie’s is on the Sahara Desert.”

“So?”

“So, how can this thing work in different environments? If its really hot in one place and really cold in another, doesn’t it have to know that too? Is there a thermometer attached?”

It was a good question, one that made Brains miss Jeff and the insistent way he had about understanding every aspect of the machinery that was being built down in this lab. It was a trait they all shared, one that Brains was used to fielding when people came down to talk to him.

He shouldn’t be surprised that Alan was developing that same keen sense to question, to seek answers, to learn.

He said nothing to address the change.

“This is specialised for… one environment,” he said instead. “One which lacks t-temperature fluctuations.”

“Fluxtions?” asked Alan, trying the new word on his tongue.

“F-fluc…tu..a…tion,” said Brains, slow and patient until Alan repeated it back to him. “It means changes.”

Alan rolled his eyes.

“You could have said that.”

Brains laughed as he turned and put the device away.

“Y-yes, I could have.”

Prompt Generator Fic #10 (Repost)

Virgil + Gordon + Dealer’s Choice + Brave

TW: thwarted sexual assault / roofie attempt

His little brother never had learnt to shut his mouth.

He was meant to be meeting Gordon, but it seemed that his brother had made alternate plans involving an alleyway and a fight.

Paralysing horror coupled with fierce pride as he watched Gordon, still pulling himself up from the ground with a taunting smile. Virgil ran towards them, fear eating up his oxygen and leaving him gasping for air even as he toppled onto the stranger and knocked the wind from his lungs too.

“Thanks V,” said Gordon cheerfully, blood smeared across his chin. He swiped at it again before bending down to check on the man.

“What did he do?”

The look in Gordon’s eyes darkened.

He said nothing, only reached into the man’s jacket pocket, fingers slipping into the lining and pulling out a number of small plastic vials, clear liquid still sloshing inside them.

Virgil swore.

“The idiot started bragging in the bathroom,” said Gordon, neatly placing the vials where he found them. “I decided it was time to be a mouthy little shit, get his attention off the girls and onto me.”

He couldn’t smile, falling back against the wall with a groan.

“Cops are on their way,” he said, still staring at the man. “We should go.”

Virgil grabbed him under the arm, hauling him upwards.

“You can never just keep your mouth shut, can you?”

Gordon opened his mouth, righteous indignation written across his features but Virgil spoke over him.

“I’m proud of you. That was brave. He might have had friends.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t know I had you.”

Prompt Generator Fic #9 (Repost)

Virgil + Dealer’s Choice + opportunity

Virgil collapsed in the pilot seat, exhaustion creeping over his features.

It was over. They could go home.

Staying awake would normally be a concern, but each time his eyes fluttered closed, he could see Marissa propped up by pillows and a hospital bed.

He’d spoken to her parents, and Thomas’s and Wing’s and Celia’s and Michael’s and Aroha’s and many more beside. Reassuring them all, finding out their stories, checking in on their children one final time, figuring out how they could reach out to them to ease the next stage of the journey as much as possible.

Rescues didn’t end once they made it to the hospital.

Leaning over, he punched Gordon lightly, curled up in his seat like a cat and definitely not ready for take-off.

“Huh?”

Gordon looked blearily around him and Virgil smiled dimly.

“Sorry kid, time to go home.”

“I’m not a kid,” muttered Gordon, pulling himself upright with a yawn.

He blinked as his took in the view from the cockpit for the first time.

“When did it get so dark?”

“About five hours ago,” said Virgil, scrubbing at one eye and biting back a yawn of his own.

“Five hours ago?”

“That’s what I said.”

“What took you so long? I thought the nurses had it all under control, you said.”

“They did. I waited with the kids until the parents started arriving.” He paused and then amended his statement. “Until they all arrived.”

Gordon looked distressed.

“I could have helped,” he said weakly, but Virgil didn’t need to look over to see the way the reluctant offer pained him.

“You know I don’t mind,” he said quietly.

Gordon sagged against the seatbelt.

“Thanks.”

Silence fell in the cockpit and Virgil began the take off procedures, longing for home.

“Why do you do it?”

Virgil didn’t need further clarification.

“It’s not premeditated,” he said quietly. “I don’t plan to do all that.”

“But you always do,” said Gordon. “It’s like you can’t help it. Me, I’m lucky if I even notice something’s wrong.”

“Give yourself more credit than that,” admonished Virgil, but Gordon waved him off.

“I’m not saying I’m a jerk or anything, but Virg you have to know you’re something special.”

Virgil’s cheeks burned.

“It’s not like that,” he said.

He waved a hand helplessly before sliding Thunderbird Two into autopilot and turning to face his brother.

“I just see opportunities to be kind. That’s all.”

Gordon leaned over, smiling fondly as he clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Virgil grabbed it tightly.

“Surely you know by now, Virg – that’s everything.”

Prompt from here - was also inspired this morning by this prompt, so here is my offering with Scott and Jeff as our leading stars. One prompt - a million ways to write it, yeah?

Aftermath of Lucy’s death, a not particularly with-it Jeff and a warning for implied self-harm in the form of disordered eating / sleeping

Anyway someone get this Jeff to a therapist stat.

—

Scott jolted awake, the moonlight streaming into the room from the crack in the curtain. He wasn’t sure what had woken him – the light that fell across his bedspread, the scrape of a door over the swollen hardwood floors, the nervous presence of a brother hovering in the doorway.

He listened hard, straining his ears for even a whisper in the silent farmhouse.

Scott wanted nothing more than to turn over and ignore his prickling conscience, to burrow back into bed and hope that any night-time disturbance would gradually settle into the same warm feeling.

A muffled thud echoed in the dark and he sat upright, certain that he hadn’t been dreaming after all.

He bit back the groan as he stumbled from the bed, searching blindly for his socks, and pulled a robe tightly around him. He crept into the darkened hallway, expertly avoiding every creak he’d mapped out as a child, and paused outside each bedroom door. He hardly breathed, listening for the sounds of a brother in need before he gently pushed the door open.

John was slumped against the window where sleep had won out over the stars. His head was hardly visible under the curtain and condensation sprawled across the glass from his warm breaths. Virgil was snoring quietly, and Scott bit back a grin as he snorted and rolled over in his sleep.

Across the hallway, Gordon and Alan were curled up together, one bed abandoned for the prospect of more warmth. Gordon sighed as Scott stroked his hair, his usually cheeky grin softened by pleasant dreams. Alan murmured, his unheard whispers giving Scott a moment’s pause before he simply kissed his cheek and slipped out from the room.

There was one more room to check, the one Scott had been avoiding.

Sure enough, his dad’s room was empty.

Scott closed his eyes. The muffled sounds were louder now, as of course they must, reverberating up from the study directly below.

He turned and crept down the stairs, trying to ignore the way his intestines wrung and twisted as he walked.

Staring at the solid door, the dim light shining from underneath, he didn’t know what there was left to say.

He hated this, hated the way he was forced to parent not only his brothers but his father as well. He wanted his dad to be the one, standing in the door and demanding to know what he was still doing awake in the dead of the night. He wanted someone to come and tell him that it was enough, that it was time to rest, that he had school in the morning.

He wanted to scream at his mother for leaving them, and then at his father for running away from her.

There was no need to knock. He swallowed the bitterness and opened the door.

Jeff didn’t even glance at him, absorbed in a numbing world of numbers. He pored over documents that seemed to fly off the screens no sooner than they arrived, a dizzying display showcasing how much work he was drowning under.

His clothes hung from his shoulders and his skin sagged sallow in the blue cast of the holograms. Shadows seemed to sink into every hollow of his body and he scrubbed at his eyes, leaving bruising marks of exhaustion beneath them.

With a start, Scott realised they’d hardly seen him since the funeral six months ago.

“Dad,” he whispered, endless emotion compressing his voice into a thin note of sound.

Jeff didn’t look up.

“Dad!”

Jeff startled violently. The heavy desk chair slammed against the windowsill and he swore, standing helplessly torn between fixing the chair and his son. It should have been an easy fix, but Scott could see the doubt and confusion in his eyes as he turned between the two, trapped by indecision.

“I got it, Dad,” he said, walking over and straightening the chair.

He only hoped the crash hadn’t woken anyone else.

“Wha’re you…?”

Jeff screwed his eyes shut, letting his head fall in his hands.

“What am I doing up?” Scott guessed.

“Yeah.”

“I think that’s my question to ask, Dad.”

Jeff was silent, thinking over each word carefully to tug meaning from the simple sentence.

“It’s three in the morning,” he said suddenly.

“Yep,” said Scott. “I was asleep, I swear.”

“Good, good,” he murmured, letting his eyes fall shut. “You have school tomorrow.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“Sunday school?”

“We haven’t been to that since Gordon was born.”

“Your mom was so mad at her,” said Jeff, mind full with half-forgotten memories.

“Mad at… Look, Dad, it doesn’t matter.”

“It all matters, Scott, can’t you see that?”

“No! Dad, you’re scaring me!”

And he was, Scott realised. He was shrinking back from this shell that used to be his father. There was none of the easy joy there anymore, none of the confidence and certainty that had shaped his childhood. His dad could do anything, he’d always known it to be true. He just hadn’t realised that ‘anything’ wasn’t just reserved for the good things in life.

“Scaring you?” murmured Jeff, still looking far away. “No, you shouldn’t be scared. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Well, somebody has to,” retorted Scott, fear boiling over into anger. “Is this what she would have wanted? You can’t even take care of yourself, let alone your family and you promisedher.”

His dad cowered in front of him, refusing to look him in the eye, and he hates it, so he hates him.

“I’m calling Grandma,” he said abruptly.

“Scott, there’s no need for that.”

“Thereis,” Scott shouted, all thought of keeping quiet for his brothers’ sakes leaving his mind. “When was the last time you ate, Dad? Or slept in your own bed?”

“Scott, please.”

He stumbled out from behind the desk, shoulder catching on the bookshelf as he surged forward like a tidal wave, desperate and begging in a way Scott had never seen. In a way he wished he’d never known was possible.

“At least wait until the morning,” his father said, hopelessly trying to grab at his shoulders. “What can she do until then? You’ll only worry her.”

“Get off me.”

He shrunk back from his father’s grasp and didn’t move to help him as he groaned, slipping to the floor.

“Dizzy,” he murmured, not hearing his son’s sharp cry.

Scott’s anger subsided in an instant as he dropped to his knees.

“Dad?” he called, trying desperately not to panic. He should have known, he should have cared more, he couldn’t let an argument be the last thing his dad heard.

“Scott?”

“Virgil, get Dad’s phone, on the desk,” he snapped, not waiting to question his brother’s presence. “Make sure John keeps the littlies upstairs.”

“Is he alright?”

“I don’t know.”

“‘Mfine.”

“Stop talking,” snapped Scott.

The phone materialised in his hand and he noted with no small amount of relief that Virgil had disappeared upstairs without further question.

He swiped across Grandma’s name, pleading with her to hear him across the miles and pick up.

“Jeff?”

“Grandma!”

“Scott?! Where’s your father?”

Her confusion solidified in an instant into sharp questions and Scott answered them all, holding onto his dad the whole time. Jeff flinched every time he spoke, as though he wanted to protest but couldn’t find the energy.

“I’ll be there inside half an hour,” she promised, the soothing balm of her assurance spreading warm inside Scott’s chest. “I’ll stay on the line, just hold on, and don’t be shy to call an ambulance if anything changes.”

“It’s not that serious, Ma,” muttered Jeff.

“You’ll do as you’re told, Jefferson Tracy,” she demanded. “You hear me?”

“Yes, Ma.”

“Good. Scott, honey? Saltines and ginger beer. If he can’t hold his food, get help.”

Scott scrambled to do as she said, leaving the door ajar and trying not to hear the low voices that followed him down the hall.

Virgil was sat at the top of the stairs, hugging at his knees and looking much younger than his sixteen years.

“Was he drinking again?” he whispered in a tense voice.

“No,” said Scott, climbing up and sitting next to him. “Just overworked, exhausted and starving himself.”

“He’s going to kill himself.”

“Don’t say that,” said Scott sharply. “Grandma’s coming over, she’ll know what to do.”

Virgil bit his lip, clearly wishing he hadn’t said anything.

“Can I help?”

“No. He won’t want you to see him like that.”

“He won’t want you either.”

“Well, I’m all he’s got,” growled Scott, resentment flaring up again.

He breathed deeply, wrestling the anger back under control.

“Alan?” he asked instead.

“Still asleep. Gordon too. John’s sleeping in Alan’s bed now.”

“He shouldn’t need to do that.”

Virgil shrugged.

“You shouldn’t be up all night looking after Dad.”

Scott grimaced, but slowly nodded his agreement.

“Virgil,” he said quietly, nudging him. “Dad’s gonna be fine too, you know. All that stuff Grandma said, I know you were listening.”

Virgil blinked, screwing up his face, and Scott watched as worried tears dripped onto his folded arms.

“She said he might need an ambulance.”

“It’s just a precaution. He hasn’t, y’know, done anything.”

“But he might.”

“Grandma’s gonna get him help,” said Scott, wrapping an arm around him. “And we’ll help him too, you’ll see.”

“Okay,” said Virgil.

He wiped hurriedly at his eyes and swallowed back the terrible fear that Scott knew was threatening to envelop them all.

“If you say so, I’ll believe it.”

“I do,” said Scott, infusing every drop of confidence into the words.

He stood and stretched, reassuringly squeezing his brother’s shoulder one last time.

“Now, I gotta get saltines. Go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Scott slipped down the stairs, padding his way through the quiet house.

“Hey Scott,” whispered Virgil. “When you come up to bed, can you sleep in John’s bed?”

Scott smiled sadly.

“No problem, Virg.”

Prompt Generator Fic #8 (Repost)

Jeff + Moffie + Humour + storm

He stared. He knew it was rude, but he couldn’t help it.

A strange woman sat half-asleep at the breakfast counter, staring blankly out the window and paying him not the least bit of attention.

He cycled back through the vast stores of family history he’d had thrown in his direction in the past week and a half, searching desperately for an explanation for her sudden appearance.

His mind drew a blank.

She was surely too old for Gordon and Alan, John seemed as uninterested as ever, and try as he might, he couldn’t remember any mention of a girl attached to Virgil or Scott either. At least, not one that would turn up unannounced at their island home.

Still, he really ought to know her name if she was important enough to spend the night as she so clearly had.

He cleared his throat as he stepped up to the counter, plastering a warm smile across his features as he reached for the espresso.

“Oh, hello, Mr Tracy,“ she said, looking up at him with a yawn. “Early start, is it?”

She gestured outdoors at the rain lashing soundlessly against the windows.

“Storm’s keeping me here a while longer it seems.”

“Uh, yes,” said Jeff, his mind still spinning. “I suppose so.”

The desire for more context, for more information, burned inside of him but he shoved it down, not wanting to be rude to his unexpected guest.

“Did you have somewhere you needed to be?”

“Oh, nowhere urgent,” she said, waving her hand vaguely. “Switzerland can wait, they know I shifted to flexible hours following the gravity well.”

Jeff choked on his coffee. He’d been told a number of wild tales, and he remembered Gordon telling one on just that subject. He’d never really believed it had happened, and unless this woman was an excellent liar, he suddenly had a secondary source.

“Ah, when was that again?”

“Oh, two or three years ago now,” she said waving her hand. “Hiram and I have been working on practical applications of gravity disruptors for nigh on a year now.”

So, it was Brains who had invited her, thought Jeff, hiding his smile in his coffee mug. Good for him.

“I’d be happy to fly you home once the storm has lifted,” he offered but she waved her hand impatiently.

“I’ve got it,” she announced, leaping up and grabbing her tablet. “And, thank you, but no, Scott usually takes us out.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” he said.

He watched as she made to leave, fingers jabbing at variables on the screen and swerving around furniture like she’d done it a million times before, and before he could help himself, Jeff called out after her.

“What’s your name?”

She paused to look at him in complete astonishment.

“Professor Moffat. Hiram and I have kept up a consistent correspondence since your boys went public with the Thunderbird machines. Did he not tell you?”

Jeff shook his head.

Professor Moffat burst out laughing.

“So you found a strange woman in your kitchen and thought ‘no follow up questions needed’?”

“But you knew who I was,” he protested.

“Everyone knows who you are, Mr Tracy.”

She flashed him a grin.

“I thought Hiram had told you about me. Guess I’m not important enough after all, way to bruise my ego.”

Jeff chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I’ll be sure to interrogate him about all his friends in the future.”

“Excellent,” she said. “I’ll let him know for you. He’ll hate it, I’m sure.”

That he will, thought Jeff as Professor Moffat strode away. That he will.

Prompt Generator Fic #7 (Repost)

Alan + John + Angst + stunt

Alan grabbed John’s arm and dragged him to Thunderbird Three before Scott could get on the line to beg him to come home.

He couldn’t believe him, the way he’d so recklessly gambled with his life mere minutes after nearly dying.

The memories all jumbled together, John’s lifeless body hovering in the living room and then in his arms, the mooring claw grabbing at his ‘bird ready to kill him and then his brother, the old determination coloured with desperate understanding for this… thing.

And then he’d called it a friend.

“Alan, are you okay?”

A flare of anger shot through him, white-hot and leaping eagerly to devour the kindling questions in John’s eyes.

“Fine,” he growled, spitting the words through his teeth. “Strap in.”

John wavered, either unwilling to let the fury slide or uncertain of how far he could push.

Alan didn’t know nor did he care.

“Hurry up,” he barked, infusing Scott’s most serious commander voice into his own.

John strapped in. He glanced uneasily over at Alan, staring firmly at the panel as he ran through engine checks.

His expression soured at the alert that beeped relentlessly as he examined the fins that stabilised their landing.

“It’s knocked it off balance.”

“She,” said John automatically.

Alan scowled.

“It,” he said, ugly emphasis painting his contempt, “has just ensured an ocean landing. There’s no way I can land her in the round house.”

“She didn’t mean t–”

“Yes, John, it did!”

Alan whirled around in his seat, glaring at John.

“Listen to me, she didn’t–”

“No, you listen to me. It tried to kill you, it tried to kill me. It stopped us from saving people today, just to play at some twisted game of vengeance, but–”

“That’s not what she was doing!”

Alan barrelled on, spurred by the image of John’s dead body floating behind his eyelids.

“I don’t know what kind of stunt you were trying to pull there; you were gambling with your life and now it’s a friend?”

“It was a calculated risk.”

“It was stupid,” insisted Alan. “What if it had been me in there? Or Grandma? Or… or… Scott?”

“I would have made the same decision,” said John firmly, but Alan could hear the creeping undercurrent of doubt and pounced on it.

“You’d have risked our lives on a hunch that the thing that spent quite literally all day trying to murder you?”

“No! I mean, yes! That is…” John dropped his head in his hands. “It’s not that simple, Alan.”

“Yes, it is!”

“I’d been studying her since Japan, I knew she was scared, I knew she only wanted to play.”

“She was playing with your life! I would have had to take your body home and that’s if she didn’t kill me in the attempt as well.”

He swiped at his eyes, revulsion clawing its way up from his stomach.

“Did you think about any of us when you said it?”

John flinched.

“I just… I had a feeling,” he said lamely.

The words were a hollow comfort, falling limp in Alan’s lap, and he swallowed back a hard lump that choked the furious response he wanted to shout.

“A feeling’s not much to go on,” he said instead, willing John to hear him, really hear him.

John’s lips quirked.

“Sometimes a feeling…is all we humans have to go on.”

There was no calculating the odds, no level of certainty about how EOS would act in the future. John was right about one thing – she was no mere computer programme. Alan knew what to do with computer programmes. EOS was an unknown entity, that John was trusting with his life and more. He couldn’t trust it, no matter what John said. And so, he was forced to ask himself a harder, more foundational question.

Did he trust John?

John snorted, leaning back in his seat as he scrubbed at his face.

“I’m not sorry, you know,” he said quietly.

Alan looked at him, eager and earnest in a way he’d never seen before, caution thrown to the wind and preparing for a battle to keep his new… pet.

He didn’t trust her, and nobody would fault him for it.

But he trusted John.

“I know.”

Prompt Generator Fic #1 (Repost)

Virgil + Lucille Tracy + Adventure + Mountain

Virgil broke away at a run, pulling his pudgy hand from Lucy’s grip. Her head whipped around to follow him desperately in the crows, trapped by the hefty pram that held his sleeping brothers.

“Virgil!” she called desperately after him.

Nobody seemed to notice the small child shrieking happily as he dodged in between legs and shopping carts.

Nobody seemed to notice the helpless calls of a mother frantically searching.

Virgil giggled as he stumbled into a store, blinking under the bright lights. His daddy had told him a story last night, a story of hills that were a hundred times bigger than the tallest building in town, where you could travel for miles and not reach the top.

He didn’t quite know what a mountain was, but he knew that the giant display he’d spotted from all the way on the other side of the mall – that had to be a mountain. He’d run for ages to get there, he could barely see the top, and he was going to climb it.

Just like in daddy’s story.

He remembered too, the crucial detail that Mommy had added as she draped over Daddy’s shoulder and before she’d dropped down to give them all kisses.

“It sounds like an adventure.”

“Adventure!!” Scott had cheered, leaping out of bed, and Virgil had cheered too. He didn’t know what an adventure was, but he knew the word lit sparklers in his chest and opened his eyes wide as he looked up at the sky.

Maybe by climbing his mountain, he’d find his adventure too.

It’s been perfect stargazing weather over here for the past few days and I gotta say it has really lifted my spirits <3 So….. John and Alan stargazing. This is set 6th December 2052, because this is a real astronomical event when the Moon will be the largest ‘supermoon’ all century - when the Moon is at its closest perigee during a full moon. The “last time” Alan mentioned was a transit of Mercury that is scheduled to take place 8th/9th November 2052. I’m still upset about missing a transit of Venus in uni because of weather lol…

Anyway - enjoy :)

—-

Although the start of semester was always warm and pleasant, it didn’t take long for the seasons to turn and the northerly wind to hurl itself at John’s windows, exploiting every micron of space to force its way into the small, dark bedroom.

He shivered slightly, pulling the robe tightly around his shoulders as he frowned down at the problem. His socked feet were wrapped around the space heater and he fumbled slightly as he readjusted his position. There was pure logic to be found here but he just couldn’t seem to grasp its implications.

He groaned and pushed away from the desk.

“Damn proofs,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes as he stood.

The blinds rattled against his window, a constant tap-tap-tap that John was certain would drive itself into his brain until he was reduced to constantly clicking his pens in exams to stimulate the proper recall environment.

The bright light of a holo filled the room and he looked up, grateful for the distraction.

“Alan,” he greeted with an indulgent smile.

“Iknew you’d still be up!” his brother crowed. “Dad! He’s still up! I told you so!”

John laughed, a little abashed at being called out and by his eight-year-old brother no less.

“Yeah, I’m up, Al. What’s the occasion? I thought your bedtime was half an hour ago?”

“John,” said Alan, drawing out his name with an air of great dissatisfaction. “You know!”

He did not.

“We’ve been waiting for it all year!”

John looked desperately over at his dad, standing at Alan’s shoulder and listening quietly to the conversation. He said nothing, only pointed upwards at the sky and widened his eyes as big and large as the full…

“The Moon! Is that tonight?” exclaimed John, racing to the window and throwing it open to a chorus of Alan’s cries of “YES!!”.

There it was, wonderfully bright and nestled among the clouds, bathing the silent street below in the eerie, colourless gleam of moonlight.

“It’s not raining, is it?” asked Alan anxiously. “Last time was the worst!”

“There’ll be other transits, Alan, don’t feel too badly about it,” said Jeff with a smile. “I have work to do. Alan – don’t keep John too late, if it’s past your bedtime, I don’t even want to know what time it is there.”

“I don’t even know,” said John with a shrug, gritting his teeth against a yawn. “I was working on a maths assignment.”

“Come on, hurry up,” demanded Alan, anxious to set up now that he knew John would be joining him.

“Go get ready,” he told Alan. “I need to get my telescope down to the park anyway and it’s freezing out there besides.”

“Which telescope can I use?”

“One of the refractors – don’t even think about touching the Dobsonian.”

“Aww,” said Alan, his face sliding into a pout.

“I mean it,” said John. “It’s not like the Moon will be hard to find. This is the closest approach of the century.”

His fierce look softened as he spied Alan’s crestfallen expression.

“We’ll set it up together when I get back for break,” he said. “Can you wait another three weeks?”

“I suppose so.”

“Good. Call me back in half an hour.”

In fact, it was only twenty minutes later when John called back, warm jackets and hats thrown on and telescope set up in the middle of the park. There was a dark clearing that he’d been told about early on in his adventures at tertiary education, but winter was not the season for such fevered activities and, having left his gloves sitting in the kitchen in his haste, the only bare skin the frosty chill bit at was his own.

He was alone as he stared up, the Moon already past its peak in the sky. For Alan, it would still be rising as the Earth made its slow, steady rotation through the heavens.

“Is it really that cold there?” asked Alan in astonishment as the holo connected. “It’s already so hot here.”

“You live on a tropical island,” said John, his lips twitching. “It’s always hot there.”

“You live on a tropical island too!”

“Really?” asked John, looking around him. “I can’t see it.”

“John!”

He grinned but didn’t answer. The stars were dimmer here, the light pollution of eight-hundred-thousand people spilling across the atmosphere. The trees blocked out the main lights, but still he traced the missing stars in the well-loved constellations of his youth.

“Can you see Polaris?” asked Alan, as he always did.

“Yes,” he replied, staring up at the bright star. “Can you see the Southern Cross?”

“Uh-huh,” said Alan, and the two fell silent.

Stargazing across timezones and latitudes had its challenges, staring out at different universes. He missed being able to pull his brother close and point out constellations that rose overhead, Alan’s sharp eyes peering along his outstretched arm. Now even the stars they shared looked nothing alike, and Alan was growing up with an unfamiliar sky with a childhood John couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“Do you see the dark patches on the Moon?”

“Yeah?” said Alan, eyes moving to them immediately with John’s implicit direction.

“Those are the lunar maria.”

“Maria,” said Alan, trying out the word on his tongue. “Like the name? Why are they called that?”

“Long ago, people looked up like we are now. And we’d never been to the Moon.”

“Over a hundred years ago?”

“Try a couple of thousand.”

“A couple of thousand?”

“That’s what I’m told.”

“Wow. People looked at the sky then too?”

“Probably even more than us. But you didn’t let me finish.”

“Sorry.”

“They’re called that because people looked up and they thought they were oceans. ‘Mare’ is the Latin word for seas. So ‘lunar maria’ – the seas of the Moon.”

Alan laughed.

“There’s no oceans on the Moon!”

John shrugged.

“We only know that because our technology is better. Who knows what we would have believed if we lived then?”

“Maybe,” said Alan, and John didn’t need to glance over to see the face he was pulling – the one that said he didn’t believe him, but didn’t want to argue about it.

“What are the maria really?”

“Lava plains. Giant eruptions that happened when the Earth was new and the Moon hadn’t yet grown cold. We think asteroids colliding on the other side triggered volcanoes.”

“Like when you feel sick and then someone jolts you and then you throw up?”

“Gross,” said John. “But yeah, I guess.”

“Cool.” He was silent for a moment, considering the dark hollows. “I guess the early people were right then. Not oceans of water, but oceans of Moon vomit.”

“I repeat – gross,” said John, smothering a snort. “It’s just molten rock, y’know – lava?”

“I like my name better,” said Alan grinning at him. “Moon vomit, Moon vomit, Moon vomit.”

It was no use, and John cracked in no time, throwing back his head and laughing with him. A pang shot through his chest, a wave of homesickness washing over him. He wasn’t homesick for the island, having spent less than a year there when he added up all his visits, the terrain as unfamiliar to him as the skies Alan was staring up at. But for his brothers – all of them now that he’d acknowledged how much he was missing Alan and the floodgates opened.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said hoarsely, forcing the words past the pain in his chest. “I’m just really looking forward to Christmas and seeing you all again.”

Alan’s eyes lit up.

“Me too!”

He lay back on the picnic blanket, just wanting to listen as Alan jabbered on about his fine plans for them and all the great things he had to show them.

The stars twinkled down, the atmosphere crisp and the feel of first snow in the air.

He’d be home soon.

Uncoloured version beneath the Read More

…

What’s it like to be devoid of wishes and dreams? Do you notice the emptiness? Does it carve you up inside, hollow out your guts, your heart, your tongue until you’re left with nothing but a memory of how it didn’t used to be like this.

What’s it like to strive for something? To be certain of life’s direction and know your own trajectory?

Do you notice the way things are never easy, a life of constant course correction?

How do I grow without stifling others, leaving them suffocating in my desperation to reach the sun?

Do you fear stagnation like I do?

No voice to scream for help.

How can I be content and not settle?
How can I settle and not be content?

Are you too afraid to leave the past sprawling across your present, your certainty a front for the colourful warning of your history?

Does life knock you off-balance the same way it did when you were standing still?

Do you still feel joy even when it doesn’t touch you like it used to?

What can console you when you throw out compassion like it shouldn’t rest upon your shoulders?

What can reach you when you refuse all connection?

Was this always how it was meant to be?

…

Gordon: What’s it like to be devoid of wishes and dreams? Do you notice the emptiness? Does it carve you up inside, hollow out your guts, your heart, your tongue until you’re left with nothing but a memory of how it didn’t used to be like this.

Alan: What’s it like to strive for something? To be certain of life’s direction and know your own trajectory?

Kayo: Do you notice the way things are never easy, a life of constant course correction?

John: How do I grow without stifling others, leaving them suffocating in my desperation to reach the sun?

Scott: Do you fear stagnation like I do?

Gordon: No voice to scream for help.

Virgil: How can I be content and not settle? How can I settle and not be content?

Kayo: Are you too afraid to leave the past sprawling across your present, your certainty a front for the colourful warning of your history?

Alan: Does life knock you off-balance the same way it did when you were standing still?

Gordon: Do you still feel joy even when it doesn’t touch you like it used to?

Scott: What can console you when you throw out compassion like it shouldn’t rest upon your shoulders?

John: What can reach you when you refuse all connection?

Virgil: Was this always how it was meant to be?