Hii !! i was looking for references for Elzer and Adelinde for teh fanfic i'm currently working on, to be precise i was looking for their eye colors and saw your video of them on youtube... since i want to reference your video in the notes section on AO3
(pretty much how i see these two dynamic) then i have to tell you about it) i will post chapter 8 and add the link to your video there. and you have to read the fiction.
name is " StarlyGalaxy" on AO3.
Haha hello! Elzer's eyes are a light emerald/lime green while Adelinde's are a more deep grass green! That's how I see them at least!!
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Fandom: Thunderbirds
Rating: Gen
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family
Characters: Virgil, Scott
Yup, another fic for @gumnut-logicâs #irrelief!  The prompt used here is âVirgil finally teaching Scott things about gardening ( bounce: if itâs about how to transfer a plant into the soil . inpatient Scott keeps failing)â from @lightning1999 - although I admit itâs a pretty loose interpretation. I tried Virgil!PoV for this one... the big boy is probably the hardest for me to figure out so hopefully itâs not too out of character!
When the standard methods of dealing with Scott donât work, Virgil has to resort to something a little more creative.
Virgil couldnât concentrate. Heâd been trying to do a painting, but his muses were staying stubbornly out of reach, leaving the paint blotches just that â lifeless stains of paint on a canvas. Â This had been his last resort. Â The piano just didnât sound right, almost as though it was being purposefully out of tune, and when heâd gone down to the hangar with the intention of getting a head start on maintenance, heâd ended up standing there blankly without even a tool in his hand.
He knew what it was. The others were equally aware, but none of them had managed to shift the awkward mood of the house. Â Not Alanâs video games, Johnâs quiet conversations, or even Gordonâs pranks had done anything to kick their eldest brother out of his uncharacteristic slump. Â Virgilâs previous efforts had also fallen flat, and even with his back to the den below he knew Scott was carelessly draped over Alanâs pilot seat, tablet in hand but turned off.
Dad was alive. Â He was back, currently secreted away to a specialist rehabilitation centre with his mother refusing to leave his side and Kayo adamantly on security detail. Â It was a source of great joy for them all â even Alan, the most nervous about what their Dad would be like â but once the rush had worn off, reality had started to sink in.
Scott didnât know his place any more.
It had been so simple â if not easy â when Dad was gone. Â Scott had stepped up, again, just like he had done when theyâd lost Mom a few years earlier, taking on the responsibility of their familyâs wellbeing, the company, and then International Rescue once they could bear to look at the Thunderbirds their father had loved so much. Â This time there was no Grandma to sweep into their lives a week later and give Scott a reprieve â she was already there, and grieving herself.
Scott was in charge. Easy enough to explain, even if the realities of adjusting to listening to Scott like theyâd once listened to Dad had been tough and theyâd never quite reached that level (Alan had been closest, but then again there was over a decade between them anyway).
Eight years was a long time. Most of them had had the majority of their teenage years during their Dadâs absence, Scott presiding over one of the most intense periods of change and adjustment in their lives, and theyâd all got used to it, Scott most of all.
Now Dad was back, and after the euphoria of the reunion, more practical considerations were starting to surface. Â Who was in charge? Â Would they split the responsibilities, or would one of them hold all of them â as both had done at some point in their lives? Â Would one be able to yield to the otherâs command, now they were both used to being the one calling the shots?
It was an unspoken agreement between the younger four that whoever took charge, theyâd support them both â even if Virgil privately thought it would be tough to adjust to taking orders from Dad. Â Heâd been too young to join IR before the Zero-X happened. Â John had been in training, already spending some time up in Thunderbird Five like the child prodigy he was, and Scott had been delighted when Thunderbird Oneâs metaphorical keys had landed in his lap a year before, but for Virgil, Gordon and Alan, Scott was the only commander theyâd ever known. Â Theyâd work for Dad, if that was how it ended up, but it would be another period of adjustment.
The conversation hadnât happened yet. Â Dad was still too early on in his rehab, so everything was still on Scottâs shoulders, but the uncertainty was looming ahead him and the current scene below Virgil was becoming all too common. Â Reassurances from all of them that everything would work out just fine seemed to be falling flat, and as a result, the atmosphere was turning stifling.
Virgil ground his teeth and set his palette and brush down, silently promising to clean up the mess later.
âScott!â he called, descending the stairs. Â Scottâs head jerked up, the hand holding the dark tablet in front of his face falling away to the side.
âWhat is it?â he asked, and his face reminded Virgil again of just how tired his eldest brother was. The bags under his eyes hadnât receded any since theyâd found Dad, despite hopes to the contrary.
âFollow me,â he said, slowing but not pausing as he passed the den and headed for the stairs.
âVirgil?â Scott asked, but to Virgilâs relief he moved, finding his feet and setting the tablet down before jogging to catch up. Â That was a good start; if he had the presence of mind to remember he didnât like following, he wasnât too preoccupied with whatever was running amok in his head and exerting its influence over the rest of them in the process.
âRemember the gardener?â he asked as they descended the stairs to the poolside. Â Gordon was floating aimlessly in the water, and Virgil made sure he was between Scott and their younger brother â the last thing he needed was Scott getting distracted and trying to parse why Gordon was so lifeless in his favourite place. Â He wasnât wholly successful, Scott peering past him suspiciously, but a sudden splashing from the water told Virgil that his wingman had seen what was going on.
âWhat gardener?â Scott asked. Â Virgil steered him towards the shrubbery, new piles of laurel bushes heâd recently planted. âWait-â
Leaving his brother to stare at the bushes in dawning comprehension, Virgil ducked to the side to a small storage shed and pulled out two pairs of shears.
âThat gardener?â Scott asked as he came back. Â âThe one I kept upsetting and you got mad at me for ruining all your attempts to pacify him?â Â Virgil handed him one of the pairs of shears, Scott accepting it automatically.
âHis name was Monty,â he said. Â âBut yes, that gardener.â Â He stepped forwards, and after surveying the bush in front of him for a moment, made his first cut. Â Beside him, Scott stood dumbly, and normally Virgil didnât particularly enjoy being watched as he did any art but there was something different about his eldest brother trying to piece together in his mind what was going on.
Part of Virgil was nervous. There was no indication that this would work. Â Scott had never had a particular interest in gardening (memories of Mom trying to get him to repot a plant and dirt going everywhere except the pot sprang to mind with surprising readiness), and that rescue hadnât been one of his favourites, either. Â It would make perfect sense for him to drop the shears â maybe at least put them back in the shed, if heâd even spotted where it was â and head back inside to continue his mental struggles alone.
Thus, it was with some surprise that he heard the snip of shears on plant while his shears were still opening after his previous cut. Â Glancing over to the right, he saw Scottâs face caught in a look of intense concentration as he cut small, tentative chunks of foliage away from the bush.
âIt works better if you make bigger cuts,â he commented after a few moments of small twigs falling to the ground, looking more like theyâd been trimmed with secateurs than cut with shears. Â âDonât let that confidence of yours stop now.â
It was a double-layered sentence, and he knew Scott heard both. Â Silence answered him, although the sound of the shears grew louder, as though Scott was throwing more force into them. Â Despite that, the chunks falling to the ground were no larger.
Virgil winced. Â Heâd hoped to get at least some response, even if it was entirely about cutting leaves and nothing to do with the other, deeper, problem. Â He returned his attention to his own topiary, eyeing the vague shape heâd outlined critically before making a definitive shear into it.
âWhat if he doesnât agree with what Iâve done?â
Scottâs delayed response caught him off guard, and he jumped a little, accidentally nicking off a twig heâd been intending to keep.
âWhat did you mean?â he asked. Â âWhy wouldnât he?â
Shears snapped viciously at Scottâs chosen bush â a bigger cut now. Â Progress, maybe.
âI made a lot of changes,â Scott said. Â âSome of them are just technological advances, I know that. Â Dad will know that. Â PODs instead of the Mole, the Firefly? Â Those made it easier for us to get the right gear for the job.â
Virgil made a noise of agreement as he made another purposeful cut to his bush. Â He knew all that â remembered the day Brains had approached them with the built-it kits over their specialised individual machines. As the pilot of Thunderbird Two and responsible for all those machines, it had certainly made his job easier. But that wasnât what was bothering Scott.
âBut⌠Johnâs space elevator,â Scott continued after a moment, his shears snipping away in an uneven, almost chaotic rhythm.  âBrains came up with that almost right at the start.  Itâs not a new idea developed after Dad vanished.  Dad flat-out vetoed it as too dangerous.  When he realises that I approved it, and that John actually uses it regularly, heâs going to be furious.â
âIs he?â Virgil asked, unable to stay quiet if Scott was saying things like that.
âHe vetoed it, Virgil,â Scott repeated. Â âI went directly against his wishes. Â And then thereâs Alan-â
âYou did what you thought was right,â Virgil cut in, before the Alan tirade could begin again. Â That one, he had heard before, many times. Â Why did I let him join? Â Alanâs too young for this. Â What if he gets hurt? Â What if a mission goes wrong? Â Heâs still in school. Â What if his schoolwork suffers? Â What if this ruins his future? Â âWhy are you second-guessing yourself now?â
âBecause Dadâs here now!â Scott snapped, an extra-vicious shear getting rid of a large bunch of foliage all at once. Â âBecause when I made those decisions I didnât think he was ever coming back and I wouldnât have to justify them to him! Â But now heâs back and I donât know what heâs going to do with International Rescue. Â With me.â
Virgil shook his head, squinting at his progress to determine which bit to lop off next.
âWithout you, International Rescue wouldnât have survived to find him,â he said, bulldozing on before Scott could protest. Â âThose decisions you made are what kept us going. Â Eight years is a long time, Scott. Â Things change â things have to change â and Dad knows that. Â You know he knows that.â
Scott sighed.
âI know,â he said.  âI know, but now that heâs hereâŚâ
âYouâre nervous,â Virgil finished. Â Scott grit his teeth and gave a jerky nod. Â Virgil shot him a grin. Â âIf it helps, Iâll be supporting you the whole way, and I know the others will, too. Youâve done the best you could, and heâll respect that.â
He stepped back from his bush, satisfied. Â In front of him, a falcon spread its wings as it launched into the sky.
Beside him, Scott continued cutting in silence, his own bush taking shape into something far larger, and rather less refined than the bird of prey beside it. Â It looked hurried, which brought a small smile to Virgilâs face. Scott had never had the patience for anything related to gardening, after all.
But it was recognisable, even if the bear looked like it had an extra limb and no mouth. Â Scott stepped back from it and turned away from his creation.
âThanks, Virgil,â he said, dimples deepening as he let himself smile. Â Virgil smiled back at him and divested him of the shears.
âIâll clear up,â he said, looking at the foliage strewn about their feet. Â Not waiting for an answer, he headed off to the shed to put the shears away and retrieve a rake.
Glancing over his shoulder as he pulled the door open, he found Scott still standing there, staring up at the falcon and the bear, side by side. Â The heavy air was gone, and Virgil allowed himself a moment of triumph.
It hadnât solved everything, but it was progress.
Hi ! Do you have a funny photoshopped picture of Scott that you haven't posted yet? I like your stuff, especially anything about him . (The big eyebrows one was too funny )
asdfhgjkl thank you! :D
I think Iâve posted everything Iâve made apart from the really awful things lmao. when my stuff goes wrong, it goes wrong and should never see the light of day
You want asks, at least I came up with something: What do you think the king's reaction would be when he sees that Julius becomes small? *with that small size , Marx can drag Julius to do his paper work, don't you think? đ* Don't forget to tag the spoilers đ
Thanks for being the first ask ever! Really appreciate it!
Personally I dont think that there's much contact between the king and Julius so it should be fine. Even if they do meet Julius still has enough pull and decision making that it should be fine, especially since the congress acted when they heard his letter, he's still has pull. But you right Marx is about to get some good revenge with that paperwork lol. Thanks again and hope it's satisfying
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Answer this after watching the episode. What do you think about Brandon? This is how friendship happens ,don't you think? While watching the episode I remembered that fanfic you wrote and Brandon kept talking about the Tracy bros to Alan and in the end he said "I have (..) followers and one friend"
To be honest, I am so, SO delighted by the idea of a real friendship between Alan and Brandon. The whole theme of Talented Amateurs is secret relationships, and because of when I write it, necessarily the way it happens in TA is different than what happens in canon (and canon presents Alan in a kind of childish and shallow way, but such is the nature of the medium), but I just really adore the pair of them as friends who are just equally really sympathetic to and really impressed by each other.Â
TAâs Alan is a little more secure in his own coolness than Brandon is, but an idea I really wanted to get into is the idea that heâs one of the only people his age that Alan can really relate to, because they really are quite similar. In TA, he really is the closest thing Alan has to a real friend, and the pair of them talk often and deeply about the goings on in their lives. Potentially a little bit more than either of them really should *wink wink wink wink wink*