This year all of our muns have been very swamped with irl stuff so unfortunately we haven't had time to come up with any new activities for y'all this year. We are however, recycling old activities and games for you to play from the previous years and we will still be reblogging any queer Thunderbirds art and fics that pop up.
We hope you all have an amazing pride month. Stay safe, drink water and bind safely!!✨
Gordon Tracy, actually a bi icon??? This is the best revelation to finish up the year!!! 🙌
You’re very sweet, but I’m not sure ‘icon’ is applicable here. I am just a simple squid dude who likes people. And pasta, that last bit’s important.
And it’s never really been a secret, just… never really discussed the private in public, y’know?
And face scramblers at Pride are more to save me ever being associated with @thunderbird-shadow’s Cha Cha Slide after one too many shots that she absolutely doesn’t enjoy.
but… yeah.
anyway.
love you all.
drink water.
be kind to yourselves.
and remember: labels are tools you get to choose to help. it’s okay if none fit too.
Hello my gays if anyone was wanting a polyamourous fic this pride month then boy do I have a gift for you! if you didn't want poly fic then continue scrolling.
fuse/gordon/penelope. gordon gets hurt and fuse and penny take care of him. just a fluffy hurt/comfort scene cause these guys won't leave my head
Why was this so hard for Scott? It was a simple thing to request from his father, so why was he sweating? Jeff had been walking down the hall, when he saw Scott pacing nervously in the den.
“Bluejay?” Scott turned around, startled by the sound of his father’s voice. “You okay? You look nervous about something.” Jeff hadn’t intended to startle him.
“I am actually. I need to ask you for something.” Jeff sat down on a nearby chair and let Scott take his time with the rest of his train of thought. “Can I have one of Mom’s rings, please?”
“Who’s the lucky person?” Person, did he know? I’ve never told him. Jeff saw the thoughts flicker across Scott’s face. “Yes, I know. I’ve known for a long time. Do I know them?”
“Yes you do.” Scott finally let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Jeff walked over to the safe and took out Lucy’s jewelry case.
“She had a bunch of rings. She was never big on necklaces, bracelets, or earrings, but she loved colorful rings. Do you want something more ornate or simple?” Jeff pulled out a few drawers from her jewelry case.
“Simple please. He works a lot with his hands so he’ll probably have to wear it around his neck most days.” Scott looked through her old jewelry and settled on a simple band with a few flat, colorful stones built into it.
“Are you going to tell me who the lucky lad is, or will I find out on your wedding day?” Scott let out a nervous chuckle. Jeff was trying to keep things light. This was very obviously hard for Scott.
“Oh, I guess you’d like to know that.” Jeff simply nodded and smiled. “It’s Brains. He’s pretty damned awesome, and I’m lucky to have him.” Jeff gave his eldest a big hug.
“That he is. I’m glad you have someone that makes you so happy.”
It is the Gift Exchange for @thunder-pride and I was assigned to make something for @tanushakyrano!! I had SO much fun with the prompts, and really hope this brings a smile to y'all <3 <3 <3
Happy @thunder-pride to @knyee!! I'm your giftee and I hope you enjoyyyyyy <3 Aroace Scott and some background Pen and Ink :)
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Gordon flopped down onto the lounger beside Scott, reaching into the cooler for a drink. Scott raised his own bottle in acknowledgement, his eyes not leaving the horizon.
“I’m sorry we had to drag you away from your date,” said Scott. “You call her yet?”
“Nah,” said Gordon. “It’ll be the middle of the night now. We’ll make it up some other time.”
He glanced sideways and grinned. “Beside, you know Penelope. She’ll be thrilled we owe her a favour. You know how she’s always trying to get everyone ‘out in society’ and all. Tell her you’ll do a double date to one of those charity galas and she’ll forgive you in an instant.”
Scott gave a wry grin. “I think you might want to ask someone else for that favour.”
“Oh come on,” said Gordon. “We both know Virgil’s hopeless at getting a date, and Alan’s far too young.”
“John?”
Gordon gave him an incredulous look. “We can barely get John to visit us.”
“At least he has a standing date already,” said Scott with a shrug.
“John does? Who?!” demanded Gordon. Amber liquid sloshed out of his bottle, spilling onto his lap as he sat upright. He shook his head and pointed at Scott. “Never mind, you’re trying to distract me so you can worm out of this.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“But why?” asked Gordon. “People love you and I hate to admit it, but you look pretty spectacular when you’re dressed to the nines and someone else has styled your hair.”
Scott glared at him.
“I don’t want to spend an evening charming someone into thinking I want something I’m not interested in giving,” he said shortly. “And I want to participate in uninspired conversation with diplomats and world leaders while you disappear to woo your Lady even less.”
“Alright, alright,” said Gordon, rolling his eyes. “Geez, what’s with the sour grapes, I’m the one who lost their evening. Although maybe if you spent a few more nights off this island, you’d be less snappy.”
Scott flinched. Warring emotions swirled in his head, instinctive anger slowly beaten back by a dawning realisation.
“Are you just saying that to be a jerk? Or do you not know?”
Gordon looked at him strangely. “You’re a jerk, jerkface. I was being serious.”
“Real mature,” muttered Scott. He stood and stretched, looking down at Gordon with an unreadable expression.
“What?” demanded Gordon. “Come off it Scott, I was just messing around. Sorry if it struck a nerve.”
“I’m aroace,” said Scott.
“Oh.” Gordon blinked. “Oh! Oh shit, I didn’t know… wait, how did I not know?”
“I guess I’m just too charming and good-looking,” said Scott dryly, and Gordon barked a laugh.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“It’s not a secret,” said Scott. “I thought you knew, we had a whole party about it when I was in high school.”
“Oh, right, so you mean when I was like five,” said Gordon, unable to hold back his laughter. “Yeah, that was a real formative memory for me, one of my boring older brothers hanging out with his boring friends and not wanting to play in the sprinkler.” He grinned. “I was probably just there for the cake.”
“I certainly was,” said Scott. He picked up his empty bottle. “Right, I’m turning in. Don’t stay up too late talking with Penelope.”
“I will,” said Gordon grinning. “By the way, do you want me to get her to back off on the whole society scene?”
Scott laughed. “I’d like to see you try. It’ll take a miracle to convince Penelope that the Tracy bachelors aren’t cut out for her kind of party.”
Well,” said Gordon. “I feel like I worked some sort of miracle to start going out with her. I might have another one in me still.”
“Save it,” advised Scott. “You’ll be needing it at some point I’m sure.”
I was so determined to write something for this week’s @thunder-pride bingo square that I literally wrote this fic while having a minor allergic reaction on a plane - in other words there are definitely mistakes in this but please pretend not to notice them oops. Anyway, this is a longer fic than I'd usually post on here, so I recommend reading it on AO3 but I know some people prefer Tumblr, so here we are :))
AO3 link
Stray glitter itched under his left eye, his flag kept getting snagged on his baldric, and he could feel sweat prickling at the base of his spine despite the temperature regulator in his suit, yet Alan had never felt more comfortable in his own skin. His cheeks physically ached from so much smiling. He didn’t think he’d stopped grinning since he’d landed Tracy One on American soil two hours earlier – and no, that wasn’t just because he’d been reunited with his boyfriend. They hadn’t intended to spend practically three months apart – which had been a difficult adjustment after sharing an apartment for the past year – but the end of Alan’s semester meant he was officially back on the IR roster for the summer… just as a busy spell of rescues struck.
Technically, he was here on Official International Rescue Business: representing them at one of the world’s largest Pride parades. Usually, Gordon would have played the role, dressed up in yellow, pink and blue with an unholy amount of glittery body spray decorating not only his skin but his uniform. This year, Alan had taken up the reins. He secretly suspected his family had conspired to give him some downtime – because summer break was supposed to be restful, especially when you were an overachiever who’d decided to double major – and a chance to hang out with Brandon. He’d been instructed to have fun. Literally, Scott had texted him so.
Scotty: Have fun and enjoy your chance to be a dumb 20-year-old.
Scotty: Not too much fun though. You’re representing IR.
Alan had replied: so, on a scale from John to Gordon how much fun can I have?
Scotty: My level of fun only minus the daredevil risks.
Scotty: Just don’t get arrested, that’s all I ask.
“Coming to you from the Pride event of the year,” a loud voice declared dangerously close to Alan’s ear, jolting him out of his thoughts, “I’m here with a bi icon AKA my boyfriend-”
“Really?” he interrupted. “That’s how you’re introducing me?”
“Oh my god, fine.” Brandon hooked an arm around Alan’s neck and dragged him within view of the camera. “I’m here with International Rescue’s one and only Alan Tracy.”
“Better,” Alan accepted, trying to repress the urge to sneeze as Brandon’s flag drifted across his face. “Are you filming or livestreaming right now?”
“Filming,” Brandon assured him. “I’ll edit stuff out later, so you can relax.”
Alan flung his arms out to let his own flag billow in the light breeze. “Oh, I am so relaxed.”
Brandon, on the other hand, looked set to launch into orbit. He’d downed nearly a litre of soda since he’d met Alan at the airport and had chased it down with cotton candy and churros; he still had cinnamon dust on his face and it looked like extra freckles. The sugar rush had hit him around the same time as his adrenaline spike when music had begun to blare from speakers up-and-down the parade. He’d already had several fans come up to him for selfies and signatures which had only added to his energy levels. Even now, he was bouncing on the spot.
“Brand,” Alan tried to hiss, then raised his voice to be heard above the clamour of music and chatter and the swell of live instruments around them. “Brandon, dude, chill.”
“I am so frickin’ chill,” Brandon announced gleefully. He grabbed Alan’s hand and laced their fingers together, rising onto his toes – he hadn’t stopped complaining since Alan had hit the growth spurt that had placed him above Gordon and Virgil – to pull him into a kiss. “See? Chill.”
“Uh huh,” Alan deadpanned. “Super chill.” He frowned at the taste of sugar. “Did you find more candy? Where? And how? I swear you haven’t left my side.”
Brandon levelled the camera with a conspiratorial look. “All geniuses have their ways.”
“I’m cutting you off.” Alan reconsidered his words. “Ew, gross. You’re making me sound responsible.”
Brandon flicked his red baldric. “I feel like responsibility and IR are a joint package.”
“You’ve seen my astroboard stunts.”
“Good point.”
The parade began with an explosion of colour that reminded Alan of the infamous occasion when Gordon had accidentally upended Virgil’s palette mid-painting session. International Rescue had been assigned to the group of NGO floats, so he wasn’t expecting many people to point him out from the crowd. Maybe he’d gotten too used to his life on campus; after the initial buzz, no one cared that The Alan Tracy of International Rescue was a part of their ranks. But to his surprise, there were easily hundreds of people cheering and waving banners directed at him – or at IR or at his family: at least two signs asked for Kayo’s phone number – as the procession marched through the streets. Brandon captured everything on camera, including Alan’s shellshocked expression which prompted several internet comparisons with various memes.
“Hey, hey, Alan, look up.” Brandon cupped Alan’s face, tilting his head to glimpse the livestream of the parade on the giant screens above them. “Better smile, dude!”
“Oh my god.” Alan’s voice pitched into a humiliating squeak. He cleared his throat and fixed a grin on his face as the cameras stayed on him. “Okay, so this- this is a thing that’s happening. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”
“Breathe,” Brandon teased. He raised their linked hands into the air, prompting another chorus of cheers from the crowd. “People love us! And they really love you, so quit freaking out.”
“I am not freaking out,” Alan protested, then proceeded to do exactly that as a weight crashed into his legs from his right. He staggered and caught his balance against Brandon’s shoulder.
“Woah,” Brandon mumbled, switching off the vlog. “Hey, lil dude. Where’d you come from?”
If the fact that Brandon had turned off the camera weren’t warning enough, his sudden change in pitch from overexcited delight to soft concern would have informed Alan that the new limpet clinging to him was definitely child shaped. He glanced down to glimpse a mop of tawny hair and an adoring, toothy smile. The kid had to be around eleven, certainly no older than twelve, with rainbow face-paint and a shirt emblazoned with Thunderbird Three.
“Hey,” Alan greeted, struck by the baffled urge to laugh. He knelt down to place himself at the kid’s level – honestly, his new height just kept causing problems. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Leo.” The kid – Leo, Alan mentally corrected himself – rocked on his heels as his grin grew impossibly wider. “Sorry for… you know. Running at you and jumping onto the float and stuff. But I really wanted to say hi, ‘cos you’re, like, super cool and you’re kind of my hero, so, um, yeah.”
Brandon leaned down over Alan’s shoulder to whisper teasingly, “Aw.”
Alan elbowed him. “Shut up.” He turned back to Leo. “That’s awesome, buddy! It’s great to meet you. Are you here with someone? I don’t want them to think you’ve gone missing.”
Leo gave an emphatic nod. “My mom.” He pointed in the vague direction of the crowd. “She’s out there somewhere.”
“Oh, boy,” Brandon whistled. “I know where this is going.”
Alan tousled Leo’s hair, then stood back up. “So, I’m thinking…”
“…We should search for the kid’s mom?” Brandon concluded with a fond eyeroll. “Yeah, okay.”
After a brief discussion with the other representatives on the float, Alan made his excuses, then clambered down with Leo perched on his shoulders and Brandon close behind them. The kid kept chattering, hands anchored in Alan’s hair and his heels drumming against Alan’s chest; it brought back treasured childhood memories of the times Alan had sat on Scott’s shoulders as his brother picked paths through crowds. He was aware of Brandon sneaking photos of their silhouettes to send to the family, all dressed up in sparkles and flags and IR blues.
Leo’s mom looked suitably ruffled. Her face was flushed with a mixture of humiliation and horror beneath the shimmery sheen of glitter spray. She fretted her hands in the hem of her t-shirt – pale blue with a supportive motherly caption that made both Alan and Brandon look away – as she began to utter so many apologies that they tripped over one another.
“I am so, so sorry.” She caught Leo’s eye with a warning stare. “He didn’t mean to disturb you. I only took my eyes off him for a second- Leo, have you apologised? Say sorry right this instant. I can’t apologise enough. Thank you so much for bringing him back. It’s just that you’re his hero, you see. He’s been obsessed with the Thunderbirds since he was only so high-” She gestured at her hip. “-and when you came out… Well, you’ve been a healthy role model for him. His hero, really, and- And I should stop rambling and let you get back to the parade. Leo, get down here.”
Alan crouched down to let Leo clamber from his shoulders. He wasn’t sure how to act in the face of such praise – the word hero was tossed around frequently by civilians but it was usually addressed towards elder brothers and on rescues, not a public setting – so settled for some terrible pun outta Gordon’s handbook and laughed nervously while Brandon rolled his eyes.
“Don’t worry about it.” Alan offered Leo a fist bump which the kid readily returned. “He’s been no trouble.” He feigned a serious tone. “I have an important question though: which is the best Thunderbird?”
“One,” Brandon declared and instinctively jumped outta reach before Alan could kick his shins.
Leo wrinkled his nose. “Three, duh.”
“Correct answer.” Alan patted him on the head. “I just had to check.” He grinned at Leo’s wide-eyed, starstruck expression. The kid kept looking at him as if he were a dragon, although perhaps a unicorn would be a better comparison given the rainbows painted onto his baldric. “Maybe don’t run off without telling your mom next time though, okay?” He lowered his voice to a secretive whisper. “I think you scared her. You might want to say sorry.”
Leo’s face fell. “Sorry, Mom. I wasn’t thinking…”
“Clearly,” she replied dryly. “But I think we can let it slide just this once.” She straightened up, craning her neck slightly to meet Alan’s gaze – and nope, he still wasn’t used to that one, it was so weird, how did Scott and John live like this? “It’s his first Pride.”
“Oh, heck yeah,” Brandon cut in. He held up a hand. “High five, lil dude! That’s awesome!”
Leo met his high five with a resounding smack. Alan observed their interaction, fully aware that he probably had the heart-eyes that he’d been accused of on so many occasions by nosy siblings, but hey, whatever, sue him, it was a cute sight. He tugged absently at the edges of his flag as warm affection spread outwards from his chest. Cameras clicked around him as people filmed – hey, it’s the guy from International Rescue – but somehow it didn’t bother him anymore.
“Really,” he continued, forcing himself to turn back to Leo’s mom. “Leo’s a good kid. You should be proud of him. I got super overexcited at my first Pride too. It can be kind of overwhelming.”
She gave a light laugh. “It’s all he’s talked about for the last three months.” She lowered her gaze, voice softening as she hesitated, then confessed, “He was scared to come out to me. I don’t know how I ever gave him that impression – Lord knows I kick myself every day for making my baby think I wouldn’t accept him – but when you came out… He said that if you could be brave enough to tell the world, he could be brave enough to tell his mama. So, thank you, Alan. Truly.”
And-
Wow.
Okay. That was… a lot.
“You’re so emotional,” Brandon teased, prodding Alan’s bicep. “This is why Goose says you have golden retriever energy, dude.” He skimmed his thumb over Alan’s palm, a swift, inconspicuous show of support. “We should probably get back to the parade, but it was awesome to meet you.”
“Bye,” Leo chirped, then threw his arms around Alan’s middle. “Thanks for… everything.”
Alan let Brandon lead him through the crowd to a café. They found a quiet corner at the very back, tucked away in a shadowy alcove beside a potted plant and an old Pacman machine. Brandon briefly vanished, then returned with a glass of water and a chocolate chip cookie. He slid both across the table to Alan, then waited expectantly, all wide eyes and furrowed brow.
“Thanks,” Alan replied after a minute. He took a sip of the water, then drained it in one as he realised how dry his mouth had become. “I don’t know why that threw me so much. Like, it was a really nice thing, so why am I…?” He held up a shaky hand. “…you know?”
“’Cos it’s a big deal,” Brandon said quietly. He bumped his sneaker against Alan’s beneath the table. “You’re allowed to be rattled by it, Al. It’s a good thing, but it’s still a lot. Like, I can still remember the first time one of my viewers told me I’d inspired them. I’m pretty sure I threw up afterwards, so you’re doing better than me. Then again, I was like fifteen, so…”
Alan split the cookie. “Want some?”
“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Brandon sighed, grinning as he snatched up half. “Let’s chill here for a few minutes, then we’ll head back out, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Leo was right, you know?”
“What d’you mean?”
Brandon’s smile was the soft, secretive kind, usually reserved for places without the threat of cameras. Alan had gotten to see it almost daily since they’d moved in together when he’d started at MIT, but it still left him mildly breathless.
“You’re a good role model to a bunch of kids like him.”
Alan ducked his head. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Brandon corrected. “Now eat your cookie so we can get back out there.”
Much, much later, after they’d flown back to the island and washed off most of the glitter, Alan had chance to process everything. It made him happy but also nervous at the same time. Like, woah, he was someone’s role model? Kids considered him to be their hero? That was wild. He said as much, airing his thoughts aloud while Virgil clattered around the kitchen and Scott picked at the bowl of chopped pineapple that was intended for the evening’s pizzas.
“It’s just so weird,” Alan continued, drawing his legs up to sit cross-legged on the bar stool. He’d changed into sweatpants and a hoodie that he was pretty sure he’d stolen from John at some point after his sixteenth and had subsequently grown into. There was still glitter caked onto his cheek despite the fact that he’d attacked it with a makeup wipe. “Like, me? I still feel like a kid.”
“You’re Scott’s twenty-year-old child,” Gordon joked as he sidled through the patio doors and made a beeline for the pineapple. “He’s never gonna see you as an adult. Trust me, I’d know.”
“I’m not that bad,” Scott protested half-heartedly.
Gordon patted him on the back. “Smotherhen.”
“Irresponsible guppy.”
“And I wear that title with pride.” Gordon dropped onto the stool beside Alan. “Speaking of pride, how was it? Brandon didn’t give me any of the good gossip. I need details, Allie-gator.”
Alan frowned. “Did you torture my boyfriend? Is that why I haven’t seen him all evening?”
“Nah, that’s ‘cos Penny abducted him. They’re conspiring. We should both be scared.” Gordon tossed a cube of pineapple into his mouth and shot Virgil an innocent smile when his brother heaved a grand sigh and stared pointedly at the pizza bases. “Anyway. Pride. Details. Go.”
“A little kid said Alan was his role model, so Al’s spiralling,” Kayo summarised from her perch on the opposite counter, nursing something strongly alcoholic. “Now you’re all caught up.”
“Aw.” Gordon propped his chin in his hands. “That’s kind of adorable.”
“That’s what I said,” Virgil interjected. He prodded at the bowl of cake batter in his hands, then reached for a baking tray. “Do I leave this as vanilla or add cocoa powder?”
“Add chocolate.” Alan dropped his head onto the counter with a groan. “It’s weird though. I feel… like a fraud, I guess. I don’t have my life together. I survive on pizza pockets and Red Bull.”
Scott glanced up. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Only during finals. I’m mostly a functional adult the rest of the time.”
John’s hologram blinked into life above the projector. “Before you spiral any further, you should know that the internet loves you. Footage of the parade has ended up online. You’ve not just inspired one kid, but a lot of people.”
Alan tossed his hands up. “How is that supposed to make me feel any better? That’s so much more pressure.” He slumped onto the counter. “I just… You guys were my role models, right? And you did a pretty good job-”
“Thanks,” Gordon said, just as Kayo added, “Everyone apart from Gordon did a good job.”
“-so, I’m really happy to be inspiring people but also I don’t want to mess up.”
A contemplative silence settled over the kitchen.
“You’re not going to mess up,” Scott said after a moment. He slid the pineapple out of Gordon’s reach, then moved to stand beside Alan’s seat. “Hey, look at me for a second?” He placed his hands on Alan’s shoulders and offered him a reassuring smile. “All you need to do is keep being yourself. Try your best, stand up for your beliefs, and you’ll do just fine, Allie. Besides…” He tousled Alan’s hair. “You’ve been our hero for just as long as we’ve been yours.”
“Gordon’s not included in that,” Kayo called. Gordon made a crude gesture in her direction. She flung an arm at him. “See? He’s just not role model material.”
Scott ignored them. “You’re doing great, Al. I’m proud of you.”
Alan swallowed the lump of emotion in his throat, then asked, “Can I make a Pride joke?”
Scott sank onto a bar stool beside him and dropped his head onto the counter. “Wake me up when the pizza or the cake is ready, I can’t cope with the terrible puns that are about to happen.”
“Oh, but Scotty,” Alan began.
Gordon let out a wild laugh. “This is gonna be so much fun.”
