Mae-the-4th - Blog Posts

5+1 Scott and Alan (Carrying) Part 1

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Scott stared down at the baby swaddled in his mother’s arms. It was so, so small, a tiny fist curled around a red blanket and eyes closed. He looked like nothing special, yet his mother and father loved him so much already, despite only knowing him for a couple of days.

“Scott,” Lucille called gently from the hospital bed. “Come here, honey.”

The eldest Tracy son gently removed little Gordon from his lap, handing him over to Virgil beside him along with the handful of coloured pencils that the toddler was using. He stepped forward, blue eyes never leaving his youngest brother.

Jeff beamed down at Scott and slid to the side so he could sit down. “Remember when you brothers were little, Scooter? They were just like this.”

“I remember.” Scott held out his hands, and suddenly the newest Tracy was in his arms. The red blanket almost swallowed him whole, but it didn’t stop the baby from blinking slowly and opening his eyes, eyes so similar to Scott’s own. The baby let out a yawn and Scott felt his heart swell.

“Hi Alan, my name’s Scott. I’m your big brother.”

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It was about time I wrote something Thunderbirds. I really wanted to make this longer, too, but I wrote this in class and could only get so far!

Please let me know what you guys think! There’s more on AO3, if you like. I’ll be posting it here as well though.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Daydream - a Thunderbirds comic by me :)

I think it’s safe to say that all of us in the Thunderfam have had this daydream before!

Not entirely happy with this (really super duper) quick art, but I’m practicing expressions, so you guys get this. Please excuse the grubby little signature - I had to do it with my mouse.

I kinda hate this. No shading, no nothing. Ugh.

London Gym - a Thunderbirds Are Go story

Author: mae-the-4th

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go (2015-2020)

Timing: Season 3, about Episode 18 Avalanche and Episode 20 Icarus

Warnings: none

Words: 1235

Author’s Note: It’s about time I did another Thunderbirds fic! I hate the ending at all and am not entirely happy with what I finished with, but we’ll see how it goes… Enjoy this in all its unedited glory! I know nothing about Wing Chun and Kung Fu, so if I get something wrong, I am so sorry and will try to fix it! The character of Jack Wallace is completely fictional. I don't own any characters except for Jack Wallace, an OC.

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Jack Wallace was a fit guy. His black-and-red Wing Chun martial arts belt and his habit of going to the gym every morning proved said fact. He had gone to this particular gym in London every day for almost two and a half years – yet he had never seen this young woman before, although she seemed somehow familiar. Tall, lithe, with olive skin, black hair, and enchantingly green eyes, she was there before even he was, running on the treadmill. She stayed there for 3 hours, running at 10 kilometres an hour, no joke! She didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, didn’t stop listening to her music. It seemed she barely broke a sweat. She just kept on running, ponytail swinging, until she left. Jack made a mental note to ask her whether she was a marathon runner if he saw her again.

She was there the next day, again beating him to the gym. Instead of the treadmill, she focused on weights, lifting loads that usually would be impossible for a girl of her age and stature. After weights, she moved to the floor mats, completing push-ups, balances, squats, and many more that Jack didn’t manage to notice. Jack hit the showers quickly so he could ask her what her training regime was but just missed her. As he ran out the door after her, he just managed to spot her climbing into a pink car (pink! Now that’s a sight you don’t see every day!). She greeted the grey-haired driver and they sped off.

On the third day, the mystery girl was late – a whole hour late. It seemed very much unlike her (not that Jack really knew anything about her). The reason why was revealed when the large pink car pulled up to the doors. Out stepped the olive-skinned girl, pulling a shorter blonde out with her. The grey-haired driver followed at a respectful distance, warily eyeing Jack for a moment before flicking his eyes subtly around the gym. Jack didn’t even think about trying to talk to the mystery girl that day.

The day after, Jack found Mystery Girl on the mats, alone. She had a punching bag hanging in front of her – and it looked like she really hated it. Jabs and kicks repeatedly hit the bag, with sometimes less than a second in between the different moves. With a start, Jack recognised the style of fighting – Wing Chun, a style he was quite familiar with himself. After watching a few minutes, Jack realised that this was his opportunity to go talk to her.

“Wing Chun, right? Kung Fu?”

She stopped, turning to face him. “Yes. You know it?”

“Yeah. Don’t know much, but enough to get by in a fight. I think.”

Mystery Girl smirked. “Okay. Let’s have a look, shall we?”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t know about you, but this punching bag doesn’t exactly hit back.” Jack furrowed his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes. “I’m asking if you’ll spar with me.”

“Oh! Right, yeah. Sorry.” Spreading his legs into an opening stance, Jack desperately tried to remember what he had been taught – and nearly got a jab to the face. “Hey!”

“C’mon! One of the first rules is ‘always be ready and expect the unexpected’!”

Jack grimaced. “Sorry. I’m ready now.”

Mystery Girl grinned. “Shall we start then?”

Somewhere amidst all the jabs and kicks Mystery Girl launched at him, Jack realised that he was seriously outmatched. She was an expert, as in the highest ranking you could ever be. His respect and awe for her increased massively every time she added another bruise to his collection. Her style was flawless, each move precise and aimed perfectly. Jack never had any chance of beating her and he could tell that she was toying with him, leading him around the mats. Finally, Jack found himself on the flat on the ground, pinned by her knee. Grinning, she stood back up and offered her hand. Grabbing it, Jack stood back upright.

“Thanks for the practice,” the girl said.

“Practice? That was a full-on work out!”

She shrugged. “Eh, I take what I can get. Most of my brothers can’t really keep up with me in terms of self-defense, although they’re much better than they used to be.”

Jack sipped from his water bottle, still panting. “Let me guess, you’ve been teaching them?” She nodded, drinking from her own bottle. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Five,” she replied, and Jack blinked in surprise.

A ring tone echoed in the quiet gym and Mystery Girl picked up her phone. Sleek and black with silver highlights, it was obviously heavy duty – and expensive. A holographic display lit the air above the phone, showing the caller ID. Calling – Lady Penelope. The picture was the young blonde from the other day, laughing with her head thrown back with a tanned blond man, Hawaiian shirt open at the neck. Mystery Girl picked up her phone and ‘Penelope’ appeared.

“We are right outside when you’re ready. Gordon is here too, surprisingly.”

“Really?” Mystery Girl said, wry disbelief on her face.

“Yes! Somehow, I got Gordon out of bed, but he is fairly grumpy, and I will need your help wrangling him.”

She smiled fondly. Jack found he really liked it, but a stab of jealousy ran through him. Who is this Gordon? Her boyfriend?

“I’ll be right there, Lady P. See you in a few seconds.” Hanging up on Penelope, Mystery Girl grabbed her rucksack and turned towards the door. “Bye,” she said to Jack with a flutter of her fingers. Minutes later, the same pink car from before roared past.

It was only later that Jack realised he still didn’t ask for her name. He certainly regretted it when he never saw her in his gym again-

-until she was on television two weeks later.

Jack was on the treadmills, straining for those last few kilometres, while watching the local news. There had been a recent world record broken – the world airspeed record, to be precise. Something had gone wrong though, according to the news, and International Rescue had stepped in to help. Jack only caught the end of the report, but it was enough to stop him in his tracks (while the treadmill was still running unfortunately, although he’d never admit it). The news channel showed four of the five Thunderbirds lined up, the members of International Rescue standing in front. Four young men for four Thunderbirds, baldrics silver, green, red, and yellow. Next to them stood two young women. One was blonde, clad in a gold dress and black jacket, her hand entwined in the yellow Thunderbird’s hand. Jack’s eyes widened as he recognised her as Lady Penelope. And next to her-

Next to Lady Penelope was Mystery Girl. Clad in dark blue-green and black, she stood with an easy confidence. The names of the members of International Rescue flashed on the holo-image. Scott Tracy, Virgil Tracy, John Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano.

Kayo.

Now everything made sense! Mystery Girl’s fitness ability, her friend with the chauffeur, her mention of her five brothers – blimey, her brothers were the famous Tracy’s. She was part of International Rescue, for goodness sake!! She was the elusive pilot of the rumoured Thunderbird Shadow! And Jack had met with her, talked to her, sparred with her, and didn’t even realise.

Jack left the gym in bewilderment, the treadmill still running.

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FIN

Helmet - A Mandalorian Story

Author: mae-the-4th

Fandom: The Mandalorian/Star Wars

Timing: A few weeks after Season 1 of The Mandalorian

Warnings: none, just a bunch of fluff and a bit of angst

Author's Note: It's about time I wrote a new story! Felt like doing a Mandalorian one. I hope I do these characters justice. Please feel free to correct anything I may have gotten wrong. Enjoy!

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The Razor Crest was quiet, the humming of the engines the only noise. The kid was asleep in his box, and Din could finally have a moment to himself.

His helmet stood proudly next to the bowl of soup on the table, silently judging the walls and ceiling of the ship. It's owner sat behind it, bare-headed, sipping soup and thinking over what the Armourer had said just those few weeks back.

She had told him that the Child was a foundling - specifically, his foundling. He would protect it, care for it, perhaps train it someday.

In other words, Din Djarin, fierce Mandalorian warrior, fearing throughout the galaxy, was a father.

Din was certainly familiar with the Mandalorian foundling program - he had been one himself, many years ago. Any child alone and without a family, the Mandalorians would take them in as one of their own, no questions asked.

This is the Way.

Din rubbed his temples and sighed. He had always been aware that he might be in charge of his own foundling one day - but not so suddenly or under such circumstances. Yet he couldn't find any regret or reluctance in him faced with looking after the kid. The womp rat was useful in a tough spot - the fact that Din was sitting in his ship, alive, was proof of that fact. And, yes, the kid was cute. Din could admit he had a soft spot for the green creature, anyone could see that. In a recent hologram transmission with Cara, she had pointed out that exact fact herself.

The almost daily transmissions with Nevarro was a distraction both occupants of the Razor Crest looked forward to. Greef Karga would update Din on the latest events - constantly praising Cara on her job as his enforcer, even though she protested that she was just doing her job. Her modesty was definitely something Din liked about her. Usually, Din and Cara would take up the most time during the transmission, chatting long into the night about recent events, the kid, and past battles. Occasionally, when topics were particularly hard, they would both break out a bottle of spotchka. On one of those nights, Cara had admitted to Din that it was nice to talk about past battles with him. That it brought some sort of closure for her, in a way. After almost no hesitation, Din agreed. He told her that he trusted her, both with his life, and with his past. He told her things that he'd never told anyone before.

He told her about his family. He told her about his life before he put on his helmet.

And Cara, recognising his trust in her, replied with stories of her life on Alderaan. Of her dream to be a healer before she became a killer.

Any time these stories came out into the open, Din slept easy that night, knowing her could trust his comrade, his best friend.

Din sighed again, rubbing the stubble on his chin. It was late, or at least the clock that showed Nevarro time told him it was. Din quickly finished his soup, reaching for his helmet-

And froze. And stared.

The kid stared back.

Din's eyes flickered down to his helmet, the visor accusing. His eye jerked back to the kid, breath hitching. Wide brown eyes flitted over Din's features and his wrinkled forehead furrowed.

An eternity later, Din finally found a way to work his mouth.

"Kid," he croaked. "Um-"

His voice seemed to have jostled the kid from his scrutiny, because the child took a step forward, a big grin on his face and holding out hands to be picked up. Not knowing what to do, Din just stared at him - until he thunked his helmet down onto the table and flopped onto his chair, his head in his hands. Fingers gripped dark hair and Din realised his hands were shaking. The kid toddled over and grabbed his leg.

"Da?"

Din barely heard him. All he could think about was how he had broken his oath - how he betrayed the last few remaining members of his Creed. He had let a living creature see his bare face.

"Da?"

His whole life was now a lie. Every ounce of respect he had worked for was now gone. He could never place his helmet back onto his head. He could never call himself a Mandalorian again.

"Da!"

Din peered through his fingers down at the kid. Tiny arms clung to his leg and he stared up at the man. The grin that was there before had vanished, confusion and worry replacing it. Din slowly reached down and picked the kid up.

"Don't worry about me kid. You shouldn't have to worry. That's my job as a father."

Father.

He was the kid's father.

Din choked back a sudden laugh, a disbelieving smile adorning his face. The kid cocked his head.

"I'm your dad! We're literally family! No rules about helmets there." The kid gurgled. "That means I can put it back on, kid. That means I can still be me." Din looked over at his discarded helmet. Unconsciously he tightened his grip on his kid, hugging him to his chest. The little womp rat smooshed his face into his shoulder in reply, a giggle escaping him. Leaning back and reaching up, Din's kid ran a three-fingered hand over his father's face, feeling the stubble on his chin. His hand moved upwards to the mustache - and pulled.

"Ow!" Din laughed. "That hurts, kid. But honestly, I don't mind much. It's about time you saw the real me."

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FIN

To Those Who Need To Hear This...

PLEASE READ

Yes, this is about Star Wars, but this rant is also about feminism and the blatant disregard for women that I saw today.

Many of you don't know this, but I am a huge (female) Star Wars fan and have been for years. Ask me any question about Star Wars, and 9 times out of 10 I'll be able to answer it. I've seen each movie and episode multiple times each and can quote many lines, as well as being the proud owner of merch.

I was watching Star Wars TikTok compilations on YouTube, and I came across one that I immediately hated. It was a “How Girls Watch Star Wars” and “How Boys Watch Star Wars” TikTok. At the start, three boys pretended to be girls ‘watching’ Star Wars. All three boys had felt the need to put pillows up their shirts to be ‘breasts’. One boy was touching his set and they all had put on voices that sounded dumb. These voices supposedly imitated a girls. In the second part, the boys were supposedly ‘being themselves’ and ‘doing what all boys do when they watch Star Wars’: quoting and acting out that famous scene of Obi-Wan vs Anakin/Darth Vader.

I could easily see a few problems here.

1.       Girls SHOULD NOT EVER be seen as just a pair of breasts or something similar. They should NEVER be seen as something other than an equal person. Pretending to be a girl and touching ‘breasts’ and portraying us as dumb is not okay. It never has been, never will be.

2.       I know many girls who can do, and easily will do (myself included), the same things these boys did in their video, in the “How Boys Watch Star Wars” section. I know many girls who will quote and re-enact scenes from Star Wars. I also know many girls who will also quote and re-enact scenes from Marvel, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Lord of the Rings, DC, the Hobbit, Game of Thrones, Thunderbirds, Pirates of the Caribbean, and many, many others. There are thousands, if not millions of girls who can and will do this.

3.       Girls also don’t just see a movie for the cute or hot guys in it. We want to see the swordfights, we want to see the shoot-outs, we want to see the movie for what it is. Again, I know so many girls who are like this, including myself.

4.       SOME BOYS DON’T LIKE STAR WARS. Shocker, right TikTok boys? A friend of mine who is a guy hasn’t even seen Star Wars, while another one hates it. And look! Some girls don’t like or haven’t seen Star Wars either! But, unlike what the boys in this TikTok said, THEY ARE EQUAL AND THEY HAVE A RIGHT TO THEIR DISLIKE.

This tiny, insignificant video may not have made a difference to a viewer’s life, but I hate seeing something like that video up there with no one saying anything about the blatant inequality and sexualisation against women. Unfortunately, I keep seeing this same classification of women a lot in social media, with almost every instance being made by a boy. I’m sick of it, and I’m sure many other women are too.

Give us the respect we deserve, guys.