Heyyy.... gonna ask for your favourite Millitary!Bros and “Ow...ow...ow... NO I’M NOT BEING A BABY. I’ve been impaled!” Pretty please!
Childish Mannerisms
Fandom: Thunderbirds
Rating: Gen
Genre: Family
Characters: Scott, Gordon
My favourite indeed :D Good old Military Bros, always cheer me up. Who doesn’t love these two idiots together? I admit it took a bit of thinking to try and figure out what situation one of them would actually say this in, but I think I’ve got it now.
Maybe. We’ll see. Not particularly long, and considering the prompt, rather fluffy, but hey ho. Here we are.
Injury Dialogue Prompts
“Hey, Scott!” was the only warning he got before something collided heavily with his back. He staggered a step forwards, and another, as something wrapped around his throat and held on tight.
“Gordon,” he wheezed, shrugging his shoulders and reaching behind him to stabilise the squid now clinging to his back. “Air.”
It took another few moments before the limbs crushing his throat rearranged themselves into something a little more comfortable, instead looping over his shoulders and clasping together in the vicinity of his sternum, and Scott took several deep breaths.
“You okay?” Gordon asked, angular chin jabbing into the divot of his shoulder and salt-crusted hair irritating his cheek. Scott glowered at him out the corner of his eye.
“Why are you on my back?” he demanded, well aware that his instincts had kicked in and he was now giving his little brother a piggy back despite intentions.
“Why not?” Gordon shrugged. “Didn’t feel like walking back.”
They were the other side of the island, near a well-concealed boathouse. Inside it lived most of their pleasure boats - well, mostly Gordon’s - including the speed boat Scott had found himself dragged out on earlier. Not that Scott actually minded - he always loved spending time with his brothers, and while it wasn’t the same as flying, the sheer speed across the water was still exhilarating.
It was the sort of activity Scott wished he had time to do more often, even if Gordon now appeared to have regressed in age by a decade and was doing an excellent impression of a monkey. There was a high chance he was just doing it to be annoying, but Scott had to check, just to be sure.
“Your back’s not bothering you?” he asked. Gordon huffed in his ear.
“Smother hen.” It wasn’t an explicit answer, but it was good enough. Gordon could be as bad as the rest of them when it came to injuries, but he was always upfront about his back.
Scott didn’t dignify that with a verbal response, but he started walking down the track back towards the villa. The island wasn’t big, but the terrain was rugged and most of the tracks didn’t go in a straight line. With a brother on his back, Scott definitely couldn’t clamber over some of the rocks on the more direct paths, so he willingly took the longer, more convoluted routes.
Instead of the jagged rocks on the coastal routes, they ended up in the woodland area affectionately referred to as the Jungle. It wasn’t particularly large, and while there were some dangers in there for the unwary, all the Tracys were well aware of the risks and were just as at home in there than out on the volcanic rocks.
On his back, he could feel Gordon looking around, no doubt trying to spot any of the local wildlife. While marine creatures were his brother’s first animal kingdom love, he still kept a close eye on the ecosystem of the land and air creatures that called Tracy Island home.
He still wasn’t quite prepared for his brother to suddenly jump off of his back and scamper into the undergrowth. He was even less prepared for the yelp, followed by language he knew the aquanaut had learnt during his time in WASP, and dashed after him.
“Gordon?”
“Ow,” his brother whimpered, which meant it was either really bad or he was just playing it up. Scott knew which one he was hoping for.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, crouching down by where Gordon was squatting, glaring at something. Scott followed his eyeline and relaxed.
There was a thorn sticking out of Gordon’s arm. It was a familiar one - not dangerous, just painful - and Scott pulled his brother upright again.
“Ow,” Gordon pouted, as though he hadn’t, in the past, wandered back in from exploring resembling a porcupine and entirely unconcerned about it. He was definitely playing up the little brother side of things today, just to be annoying, and Scott rolled his eyes fondly. “Ow, ow, ow...” he whimpered, scowling at Scott. “No, I’m not being a baby, Scott,” he added, although the put-upon pout contradicted the statement. “I’ve been impaled!”
“It’s a thorn,” Scott said bluntly. “Come on, let’s get back and we can take it out and put a nice, squiddy band aid on your battle wound.” If Gordon wanted to pretend to be a young child, Scott could humour that just fine.
Gordon’s pout grew deeper, but Scott just raised an eyebrow at him. After a moment, his brother caved and moved - gripping onto Scott once again and demanding another piggy back.
“How old are you?” Scott asked, resignedly, but let Gordon cling on as he made his way back to his feet and continued the journey home.
“I’ve been impaled, Scotty!” his brother insisted, apparently not interested in breaking character, and Scott sighed again.
“I’ll be sure to tell Grandma and Virgil,” he promised. The gulp was loud in his ear, as was the whine of his name.
Scott just rolled his eyes fondly and kept trudging down the track. Despite the childishness, he secretly quite liked it when Gordon was comfortable enough to mess around. His brother had been through too much in his short life.
He’d take innocent moments like this one any time.
1. First impression: been around forever, don’t actually remember first time I saw you/your stuff
2. Truth is: not really spoken to you, but there is lots of Scott and you’re in my notes a lot with likes and nice comments :D
3. How old do you look: Not seen you
4. Have you ever made me laugh: I am a terrible person who laughs when people leave screaming comments on my whump fics, and without checking I’m fairly sure you’re one of them.
5. Have you ever made me mad: Nope!
6. Best feature: Awesome fics, lots of Scott!
7. Have I ever had a crush on you: grumbles at stupid question. Nope
8. You’re my: fellow Scott fan!
“Mom?” The kid peers up at her, half his face covered by a little fist, scrubbing at the sleep in his eyes. “I... I had a bad dream.” John tilts his head to the side, biting his lip and peering anxiously around the doorway into Lucille and Jeff’s room. The other side of the double bed to her is cold and empty and her son hangs in the doorway looking nervously at the empty space where his Father should be.
But Jeff’s on a mission. NASA. Mars. Up there with his buddy Lee Taylor and a six pack of beers, no doubt kicked back in some space deckchair smiling fondly at the little blue and green marble of home in the distance. At least, that’s what his holograms make it sound like. In reality none of them doubt the hard work, grit and labour those astronauts are being put through, building the first human colony on another planet. Jeff’s never missed a day’s work in his life.
“I... I dreamed he’s n-not gonna c-come back.” John manages to stammer out, those blue-green eyes of his wide and scared. There’s a suspicious sounding sniffle. Out of all her boys, it’s John who knows the dangers of space travel the best; the dangers his Father is up there facing. Jeff will insist on educating him, though perhaps, not always for the better. “H-His oxygen tank ran out up there,” John tries to explain, “and... and...” There’s a wet sounding hiccup and the boy presses his other hand to his mouth, in some kind of attempt at quiet - so as not to wake his brothers. Especially not with the suggestion that their Father might be... gone.
Val Casey looked up from her cup of tea as Jenny walked into the kitchen in the Tracy Villa carrying one of the twins. For a moment she flashed back and it was Lucy carrying Scott. Val blinked and was back in the present, smiling warmly at the young woman.
“Merry Christmas yourself,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting anybody else to be down this early.” She stood and came over to Jenny, kissing her cheek and that of the small child in her arms.
“How about you come to Auntie Val while mommy gets some breakfast?”
Hi! I've had a look through your blog and not found what I'm looking for, so apologies if you've already been asked this. I'm writing about a group of kids/teens whose parents are in the air force (I know you're from the army side, but I'm hoping that there may be a few similarities to family life on base?) What can you tell us about family life on base?
On most large posts, especially in the US, there will be at least a few accommodations, especially if they offer on-post housing for married soldiers. There will be a commissary, (which could be as small as a gas station or as large as a Wal-Mart) and groceries in most large ones will be just like they are in the civilian world: largely catering toward families. Most luxury accommodations will be open to family, but some will require the soldier being present. This includes libraries, swimming pools, gyms, bowling alleys, courts/sports fields, day cares, museums, family clinics, and so on. In this way, a large post can be a lot like its entire city; Fort Bliss is the best example I can think of. It would be relatively easy to raise your entire family on Fort Bliss with about everything you need (including a variety of restaurants, a movie theater, and essentially a mall) without ever having to leave. Even during the work day in Fort Bliss, it was super common to see families walking around. Go into a restaurant, there’s a family eating at a table. Go into Gamestop, there’s some kids begging their parents for video games. It was bizarrely normal to see civilians and kids on Fort Bliss, and they hardly looked twice at us. That was probably the best part: unlike normal civilians, if you were in uniform they weren’t stopping you every three seconds to thank you for your service.Air Force bases tend to be just plain better than army. There, I said it: Air Force knows what’s up. In Korea we were eternally jealous of Osan AB compared to the dinky little base we got stuck at. We had an MWR that occasionally showed movies on a projector, a small PX, (the gas station variety: small, contains the very basic necessities and scooby snacks and that’s about it) and like...honestly I think that was it...but then again no one’s family lived on that base, they all lived in the city in Korea and they basically just ...lived in a city in Korea. Oh, and lots of native Koreans worked on the bases we were at btw, either as vendors or whatever, and many family members also got jobs as things like cashiers and janitors for the many amenities around.Civilians should be aware that if they’re of age, other soldiers will probably assume that they’re soldiers as well. It might not be uncommon for the eighteen year old son of a soldier, a kid who has an otherwise regulation haircut but with some scraggly beard hairs and tasteless clothing, to be approached by some higher up and start getting chewed out about not maintaining army standards. Men are easier to make this mistake with this because usually all you need to locate a male soldier is to look at his haircut whereas females can basically blend in seamlessly with civilians. This is all assuming a non-deployed status, although even when I was deployed there was a pretty sweet PX of the mall-like variety if we didn’t mind driving an hour or two to get to it.Basically you’ll probably just want to look up which Air Base you want your family to be at and just take a look at their map and see what they’re got. You might be surprised or disappointed. -Kingsley
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Can I have a 26 with a side of Scott and Virgil pretty please? 😁
My Brother
Fandom: Thunderbirds
Rating: Gen
Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Virgil, Scott
26) “What happened to you? What did they say to you?” “Please don’t make me tell you.”
Of course you can! Hmm, been a little while since I wrote Virgil but we’ll see how this goes. (Would have done Scott’s pov but I have him and this prompt in my inbox again later so... variety!)
100 Whump Dialogue Prompts
(Alternatively, I’m still doing: Drabble Challenge: 1-150 (feel free to specify a fandom/character), Send me ✨ and a character/ship for a songfic drabble or Random Question Prompts.)
There were good days, and there were bad days. Then there were sheer disaster days, and it was one of those that Virgil was really hoping would just end already.
The rescue had gone wrong. No-one’s fault, no human error, just one of those days where his best just wasn’t enough. Virgil hated them, even though he’d been in the rescue business long enough to know that sometimes they just happened. It was rough, he’d be shutting himself away in his art studio for a few hours with really loud music until Scott decided he’d wallowed long enough and shouldered his way in and coaxed him back out.
There would be hot chocolate. Blankets and a movie none of them watched. Just something to do together, to reassure themselves that even though things had gone wrong, not everything had. Because there were still five brothers, and sometimes things were so bad they had to count that as the positive of the day.
But he wasn’t clear of the danger zone yet, packing up the last of the pods and trying not to focus on the rust-red that wasn’t rust smeared over one of the panels, and most people weren’t used to just sucking up the bad days.
Some people had lost family today, and Virgil knew how that hurt. Some people wanted someone to blame, even though it had been one of those days where there was no-one to blame, and IR blue stood out like a beacon.
It was easier to blame the people who had pulled out a dead body than the mountain that had crushed it in the first place, after all.
“He was my brother!” the man snarled, grief channelled into fury as he stormed up the module ramp. “My brother and you let him die.”
The man in question had been dead long before they’d even got there.
“I’m sorry for your loss, sir.” Virgil was sorry, but the words no doubt still rang hollow. Expected platitudes.
“You don’t get it!” the man snapped. He shoved at Virgil, hard enough to force him to take a half-step back to stay on his feet. “He was my brother.”
Blue eyes were bright with pain. Wild with emotions they couldn’t contain, and Virgil was uncomfortably reminded of Scott.
Scott would be like this if their situations were reversed. If he’d lost a little brother to a natural disaster with no productive way to channel his grief. If Scott was the only one left.
The thought hurt. The idea of his strong big brother reduced to this.
There was the sudden urge to get home. Drag John down from orbit and be the one running around, gathering all his brothers together so Scott could see them all together and be reassured.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated to the man. “There was nothing anyone could have done.”
He took the yelling. The tears and the flailing fists as he shepherded the man back out of his ‘bird and over to the local services. Passed him over to more people with empty words and no way of bringing his brother back. Still, they could do more for him than he could.
Wild blue eyes stared at him from inside his mind, refusing to let him go so easily. Virgil took a deep breath, and then another. The likeness was uncanny. Unsettling. He needed-
“Virgil?”
A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up to see Scott, streaked with mud and red, standing in front of him. Blue eyes held a storm, but it wasn’t the same. Frustration, not grief.
He needed Scott, and like always, Scott was there.
“What happened to you?” his big brother asked, and Virgil belatedly realised one of the flailing fists had caught his lip, bringing a trickle of blood down his chin. “What did they say to you?”
Those sharp blue eyes were assessing him, but also flicking over to where Virgil had left the man. Virgil didn’t answer immediately, continuing the walk back to his Thunderbird. Please don’t make me tell you.
He couldn’t tell Scott. If he told Scott what the man had said to him, Scott would draw the parallels in his mind without prompting. The panic about how many little brothers he had intact, especially after a day like today, would rise up like an ugly snake, and Virgil didn’t want to wrestle with that. Didn’t want Scott to wrestle with that.
