Ghost Ship - Blog Posts
Alright, a bit of context for why two polymer clay ships are here with so many tags: The brown ship was made for talk like a pirate day, the ghost ship was made while I was home alone and listening to the PotC soundtrack and it just turned into the Flying Dutchman with demon horns and the Black Pearl's sails, because that looked best. I used fimo modelling clay, kebab skewers, used teabags and contact adhesive. Watercolours on the ghost ship sails to make them black. I seriously recommend the stardust fimo colour, I used it for every colour on the ghost ship except windows and the hatch to lower decks. The trick with the masts is to make the holes before baking and then bake them separately; before it can cool, you put them back in and let the clay shrink around the sticks. No glue needed. Sails are done after baking, this is where contact adhesive is needed. I recommend making a template for both the side and above profiles.
Oregon Coast
@lenle-g Here’s the fic. Sorry if I didn’t link right. Also, sorry if you don’t like the name. :)
I hadn’t liked that he had gone to help Captain O’Bannon in the first place, but he had been so adamant about going. He was used to being a ‘console jockey’ as Alan had said, only participating in the ‘rescue’ part when he had to. Alan could’ve easily gone up in Thunderbirds 3, but John had insisted on going himself, even joked with our youngest brother.
Did he feel like he had to prove himself to the rest of us? Cause if that was the case, we were going to be having words. He didn’t have to prove himself to anybody, especially not his family.
And then, to make matters worse, his comms started cutting out; giving us only snippets of what was being said. Before they went out again, it sounded like they were in trouble.
That’s when I sent Alan up. John only had his Exo-pod suit and whatever O’Bannon had on her, which I didn’t think was very much. At least there was equipment on board Thunderbird 3.
So as soon as I lost communication with Alan, I regretted not going up with him. I knew the two of them were more than capable of looking after themselves – and each other – but not being able to reach them, talk to them, worried me. Anything could happen, and I’d have no idea.
My pacing always annoyed my brothers, but it’s something I automatically did in times of trouble, and this was definitely one of those times.
In my mind, the amount of time that had transpired without comms had been longer then it actually was. It had only been about half-an-hour, but it felt like hours.
They were bickering about ghosts – and not telling Kayo or I about how they were scared – when I finally got an uninterrupted feed from the two of them. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until I saw them, and release it.
Even though holograms were amazing with sound and seeing people, I couldn’t tell if they had any injuries; major or minor.
“We’re just gonna drop off our passengers, and then head home.” Alan told me, pushing a few buttons in his ‘bird, “Should be back within the hour, so no need to go all Smother Hen on us.”
It was such a relief seeing them, that I didn’t even tell him off for using the nickname that John gave me years back.
After they cut the link with the Island, my pacing resumed until the tell tale sound of Thunderbird 3 coming into land breached the otherwise quiet of our home. And when the smoke cleared from her landing, I knew it would only be a couple of minutes before they made their way back to the lounge.
Sure enough, just as the last of the smoke disappeared, the seats from Thunderbirds 3 appeared from the floor. Alan seemed relatively okay, apart from the little wince he gave when the seats jolted into place. John was better at hiding his pain, but he couldn’t hide his visible injuries.
He was wearing his worn NASA t-shirt and jeans; his pale skin marred with cuts on his cheek and newly forming bruises on his forearms, biceps, and hairline.
“Before you ask, Scott, I’m fine. Just a bit banged up.” John said, getting up from the chair and walking over to me, holding out his arms, “See? Perfectly fine.”
He couldn’t say anything else, because I almost leapt across the lounge before pulling him into a hug. I didn’t care if he was taller than me – damn gravity making him slightly taller after long periods in space. After a couple seconds of his awkward ‘what the hell do I do?’ he gently patted my back.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I didn’t do anything, did I?” Alan huffed affrontedly, but he was smiling at the two of us.
“Why did you do it Johnny? You could’ve let Alan go in your place.” I asked him, being as gentle as I could in my question and hug. I’d just caught sight of more bruises forming on his back.
“I’ve been asking myself the same question, and I don’t know.” He didn’t even mention the fact that I used a nickname he hated.
“Were you doing it to prove yourself?”
“Probably not consciously.” He shrugged the best he could with me clinging onto him like my life depended on it, “I guess I could’ve been on some level, but I wasn’t meaning for it to look like that.”
I held him out at arms length after a couple of minutes, taking every little detail about him in; from the slight bags under his eyes, to the way his shoulders slouched, to how he held himself.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again. I can’t afford to be going grey at my age.”
“Too late for that, Scotty.” Alan commented, wiggling his way between us, “You already have a few grey hairs.”
We all started laughing, bringing each other in for another brief hug.
“Alright you.” I pointed at John, “Time to get you looked at. And you’re Earth-bound until further notice.”
“Come on, Scott.”
“Don’t argue with me. When you’re healed up a bit, you can go back up, but until then, it’s time to stay on Earth for a while.”
“Fine.”
We started making our way down to the med-bay, when I just had to say one other thing to my immediate younger brother.
“You know, you did pretty well for a console jockey.”
My subtitles said “WARGH!” but this scene made me laugh so much. Also John surrendering/fighting with the bot.
