#and apparently tracie is well known too.

[louferrignojrofficial]

ngl when people say they watch tv shows because of the famous people that are in it, i genuinely don’t understand how. i have to be very interested in the plot and the genre to even think about it. and sometimes the celebrities people mention watching certain shows for… i could swear i’ve never heard of them.

[book--brackets]

DragonLance: Chronicles by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman (1984-1995)

Once merely creatures of legend, the dragons have returned to Krynn. But with their arrival comes the departure of the old gods--and all healing magic. As war threatens to engulf the land, lifelong friends reunite for an adventure that will change their lives and shape their world forever . . .When Tanis, Sturm, Caramon, Raistlin, Flint, and Tasslehoff see a woman use a blue crystal staff to heal a villager, they wonder if it's a sign the gods have not abandoned them after all. Fueled by this glimmer of hope, the Companions band together to uncover the truth behind the gods' absence--though they aren't the only ones with an interest in the staff. The Seekers, a new religious order, wants the artifact for their own ends, believing it will help them replace the gods and overtake the continent of Ansalon. Now, the Companions must assume the unlikely roles of heroes if they hope to prevent the staff from falling into the hands of darkness.

Princess Academy by Shannon Hale (2005-2015)

While attending a strict academy for potential princesses with the other girls from her mountain village, fourteen-year-old Miri discovers unexpected talents and connections to her homeland.

Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson (2023)

The only life Tress has known on her island home in an emerald-green ocean has been a simple one, with the simple pleasures of collecting cups brought by sailors from faraway lands and listening to stories told by her friend Charlie. But when his father takes him on a voyage to find a bride and disaster strikes, Tress must stow away on a ship and seek the Sorceress of the deadly Midnight Sea. Amid the spore oceans where pirates abound, can Tress leave her simple life behind and make her own place sailing a sea where a single drop of water can mean instant death?

Parasol Protectorate by Gail Carriger (2009-2012)

Alexia Tarabotti is labouring under a great many social tribulations.

First, she has no soul. Second, she's a spinster whose father is both Italian and dead. Third, she was rudely attacked by a vampire, breaking all standards of social etiquette.

Where to go from there? From bad to worse apparently, for Alexia accidentally kills the vampire -- and then the appalling Lord Maccon (loud, messy, gorgeous, and werewolf) is sent by Queen Victoria to investigate. With unexpected vampires appearing and expected vampires disappearing, everyone seems to believe Alexia responsible. Can she figure out what is actually happening to London's high society? Will her soulless ability to negate supernatural powers prove useful or just plain embarrassing? Finally, who is the real enemy, and do they have treacle tart?

Wayward Children by Seanan McGuire (2016-present)

Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children  No Solicitations  No Visitors  No Quests 

Children have always disappeared under the right conditions; slipping through the shadows under a bed or at the back of a wardrobe, tumbling down rabbit holes and into old wells, and emerging somewhere... else.

But magical lands have little need for used-up miracle children.

Nancy tumbled once, but now she’s back. The things she’s experienced... they change a person. The children under Miss West’s care understand all too well. And each of them is seeking a way back to their own fantasy world.

But Nancy’s arrival marks a change at the Home. There’s a darkness just around each corner, and when tragedy strikes, it’s up to Nancy and her new-found schoolmates to get to the heart of the matter.

No matter the cost.

Codex Alera by Jim Butcher (2004-2009)

For a thousand years, the people of Alera have united against the aggressive and threatening races that inhabit the world, using their unique bond with the furies--elementals of earth, air, fire, water, wood, and metal. But in the remote Calderon Valley, the boy Tavi struggles with his lack of furycrafting. At fifteen, he has no wind fury to help him fly, no fire fury to light his lamps. Yet as the Alerans' most savage enemy--the Marat horde--return to the Valley, Tavi's courage and resourcefulness will be a power greater than any fury, one that could turn the tides of war...

The Belgariad by David Eddings (1982-1984)

Long ago, so the Storyteller claimed, the evil God Torak sought dominion and drove men and Gods to war. But Belgarath the Sorcerer led men to reclaim the Orb that protected men of the West. So long as it lay at Riva, the prophecy went, men would be safe.

But that was only a story, and Garion did not believe in magic dooms, even though the dark man without a shadow had haunted him for years. Brought up on a quiet farm by his Aunt Pol, how could he know that the Apostate planned to wake dread Torak, or that he would be led on a quest of unparalleled magic and danger by those he loved - but did not know? For a while his dreams of innocence were safe, untroubled by knowledge of his strange heritage. For a little while...

Monk and Robot by Becky Chambers (2021-2022)

It's been centuries since the robots of Panga gained self-awareness and laid down their tools; centuries since they wandered, en masse, into the wilderness, never to be seen again; centuries since they faded into myth and urban legend.

One day, the life of a tea monk is upended by the arrival of a robot, there to honor the old promise of checking in. The robot cannot go back until the question of "what do people need?" is answered.

But the answer to that question depends on who you ask, and how.

They're going to need to ask it a lot.

The Once and Future King by T. H. White (1958)

Once upon a time, a young boy called "Wart" was tutored by a magician named Merlyn in preparation for a future he couldn't possibly imagine. A future in which he would ally himself with the greatest knights, love a legendary queen and unite a country dedicated to chivalrous values. A future that would see him crowned and known for all time as Arthur, King of the Britons.During Arthur's reign, the kingdom of Camelot was founded to cast enlightenment on the Dark Ages, while the knights of the Round Table embarked on many a noble quest. But Merlyn foresaw the treachery that awaited his liege: the forbidden love between Queen Guenever and Lancelot, the wicked plots of Arthur's half-sister Morgause and the hatred she fostered in Mordred that would bring an end to the king's dreams for Britain--and to the king himself.

Otherworld by Kelley Armstrong (2001-2012)

Elena Michaels is the world’s only female werewolf. And she’s tired of it. Tired of a life spent hiding and protecting, a life where her most important job is hunting down rogue werewolves. Tired of a world that not only accepts the worst in her–her temper, her violence–but requires it. Worst of all, she realizes she’s growing content with that life, with being that person.

So she left the Pack and returned to Toronto where she’s trying to live as a human. When the Pack leader calls asking for her help fighting a sudden uprising, she only agrees because she owes him. Once this is over, she’ll be squared with the Pack and free to live life as a human. Which is what she wants. Really.

[rockinlibrarian]

ANSWER POST for The Lyric Game Redux Redux Part 2!

I have a free day! I don't even have household chores to catch up on this weekend because we almost had people over yesterday and I wanted the house to be marginally presentable in that case! Someone I gave birth to is now a high school graduate!

(thanks to @dannypageoflight for this photo, because although it's blurry, it's still better than any of the pictures I took).

So finally I'm getting around to giving you the results of the last round of the Lyric Game Redux Redux!

The making-sure-I-have-10-"mainstream"-songs plan apparently worked, because I had a lot more players and those players got a lot more songs, too. Even a few in the "Advanced" round! Giving two points for getting the song AND artist (although I fudged that for a few of you who only listed song titles, when I was pretty sure you also KNEW the artist, you were just listing titles), one point for just the artist and one point for just the song when you admitted you didn't know the artist (and had named other artists), and partial points for ALMOST getting it:

We have a new winner, @vovat, who didn't play last round (maybe he should have!) with 13 points total! Right behind him with 9ish-10ish are last round's winner Tracie (playing on the Facebook link) and @shadsasaur, who clicked through from the notes of a @doyoulikethissong-poll post to play, which is awesome!

Rounding out the crew are @heartlandsoul (7), @alihahdnaid (6), @stephsageek and @uniasus (4 each)!

Nice work, everyone!

Now here are the answers, with links and fun facts!

MAIN LIST:

1: "And here's to you, [Title of Song], Jesus loves you more than you will know." —"Mrs. Robinson," by Simon & Garfunkel. This was the most well-known song on the list, got by last round's winner Tracie (on Facebook), @vovat, @shadsasaur, @stephsageek, @alihahdnaid, and of course @heartlandsoul, who is the biggest Paul Simon fan I know (we actually saw him in concert together!) That is almost everyone who played!

2: "[Title of Song] out of the bearded barley…" —"Kiss Me," by Sixpence None the Richer. @vovat and @shadsasaur got this one, and it was on the tip of Tracie's tongue— she's going "OHH!" now.

3: "[Title of Song], won't you come out to play?" —"Dear Prudence," by the Beatles OF COURSE, off their self-titled album The Beatles better known as The White Album. Hence, people know it even though it's a psychedelic album track. For recognizing that of COURSE I was talking about the Beatles— and also recognizing the song— Tracie, @vovat, @heartlandsoul, and @stephsageek get to keep their Friends With Me cards! (Appropriately, the first three are the only people who played that actually ARE my friends in Real Life!)

4: "There's a little black spot on the sun today" —"King of Pain," by the Police. @vovat and @shadsasaur got it, Tracie got the artist, and @heartlandsoul is the one going "I KNOW I KNOW it, AGH!"

5: "Standing there alone, the ship is waiting…" —"Major Tom," by Peter Shilling— nobody named the artist, but @shadsasaur and @uniasus (who despite me calling them out as a TUA ficwriter because this was in S2 of TUA, admits she actually knows it from a car commercial. Hey, whatever works!) knew the song at least!

6: "See the people walking down the street, fall in line just watching all their feet"—"We Got the Beat," by the Go Go's. Surprisingly to me, no one got this one. But maybe everyone's going "OHHH!" now.

7: "Little town, it's a quiet village…" —"Belle," from Beauty and the Beast, ie the opening (post-prologue) number. I'm just going to take this opportunity to publicly call out @dannypageoflight for ignoring this game, because he did not play even though, when he was in high school, he was IN the school's production of Beauty and the Beast— which he tried out for BECAUSE he was already a fan!— and they had him sitting on the edge of the stage with a fishing pole when the lights came up for this song. HE WAS THE FIRST PERSON ON STAGE. HE WAS PRESENT FOR THIS LINE, OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Anyway. The people who actually DID get this one were @vovat, @uniasus, and Tracie (and as one of the first things I learned about her, in the exchanging-letters-with-future-roommate days, was that she was a huge Disney geek, I definitely knew she'd get it!)— although curiously no one was exactly sure what the song was actually called.

8: "[Title of Song], falling on my head like a memory…" —"Here Comes the Rain Again," by the Eurythmics. As recognized by @vovat, @shadsasaur, and @alihahdnaid!

9: "[Title] eleison…" —"Kyrie," by Mr. Mister. Tracie, @vovat, @shadsasaur, @uniasus, and @heartlandsoul all got the song— or are they just Catholic? (kidding— the three I do know personally I also know are not Catholic. Tracie and Angie do know the Mass parts from singing in choirs, though). Nobody did get the artist, despite me dropping that dang "Hey Soul Sister" song into later clues. Side note, the fourth chapter of "New World Symphony" is called "Kyrie in 5/7" (after the actual Mass part, not the '80s pop song) and I can't wait to share it with you all, if I ever finish the THIRD chapter…!

10: "Cold late night so long ago, when I was not so strong, you know…" --"Magic Man," by Heart. Surprised no one got this one (@shadsasaur did admit to looking up some answers afterward and groaning because they'd seen Heart in concert, and still not recognized it— so I'll give the rest of you a pass too), even if I hadn't kept making insistent references to "The Magic Man of Oz" every time the clues came around. Okay, for people who don't know Legion: David (and several other characters, most notably in his S3 cult) often calls himself "the Magic Man," which is where that fic title comes from, but seriously, like I said, he starts a cult full of susceptible young women just like this song's narrator, and the lyrics? "…never seen eyes so blue…I could not run away, it seemed, we'd seen each other in a dream/Seemed like he knew me, he looked right through me." THAT IS SO DAVID. It HAD to have been a rights issue, that's the only reason they didn't use it in the show!

And the ADVANCED LIST, which does have some correct answers in it!

1: "Link it to the world, link it to yourself…" —"New Born," by Muse. My newest favorite podcast, Strong Songs, (which is not a NEW podcast at all, but I only started listening to it a couple of months ago), covered this and "Micro Cuts" (and briefly discussed "Hyper Music" on an earlier episode) from the album Origin of Symmetry, and there was no other episode covering a previously unknown to me song that made me immediately decide, "okay, I'm buying this album now." I do have a long list of songs and albums to explore further from listening to this podcast, but this one was pretty well decided right away. Possibly because it reminds me a little of the Legion soundtrack, speaking of which.

2: "All the lonely nights I spend alone, never around to love me, you're always gone" —"Black Cat," by Janet Jackson, off her hit album Rhythm Nation 1814. I remember making my Barbies dance to this song, but admittedly I don't think I actually KNEW the first line until I looked it up for this game! This is an important album in my life because previously all the albums I'd owned for myself had been like "A couple hit songs and a bunch of filler!" which is kind of annoying when all the albums you own are on cassette tape. But this was like, a complete album. I could listen to the whole thing without getting bored! (except sometimes during "Living in a World they didn't Make," which was long and slow and slow and long and I was 11 or 12). I could barely tell which were supposed to be the "hit songs" after awhile! I mean, since then I've found MANY albums that are actually good AS ALBUMS, but it was a learning experience for me at the time.

3: "If you want my lovin', If you really do"—"Baby I Love You," by Aretha Franklin. Even the title is unbelievably generic! But if this had been a MUSIC recognizing game, everyone would have been like, "Oh THAT'S Aretha Franklin. The lyrics are going right in one ear and out the other so I can't even tell you what the song is called, but the ARTIST I'm sure about."

4: "You jump in front of my car when you, you know all the time that ninety miles an hour, girl, is the speed I drive" —"Crosstown Traffic," by, for the second round in a row, the Jimi Hendrix Experience. I feel like this is more well-known than "Long Hot Summer Night," but nobody got this one, either.

5: "You don't need no love-in, You don't need no bed pan, You don't need a horoscope or a microscope to see the mess that you're in" —"Awaiting on you All," by George Harrison, off my favorite non-Abbey Road album in the world, All Things Must Pass. (@heartlandsoul did get the artist after I pointed out that I'd given them this album). Listen. Music Appreciation Lesson time again. Just listen to it. This song is a perfect encapsulation of how this whole album makes me feel— it just scoops you up and flies you away with the friggin' angels in its glorious Wall of Sound (this album was produced by Phil Spector, which is always my first thought when the question of "great art by terrible people" comes up. This violent abusive murderer mixed together in his own signature style this glorious spiritual manifesto unto heaven? Why YES! Granted it was WRITTEN and PREFORMED by a gentle and very meditative guy, but still).

6: "Invoke the light to shelter you, cause everybody wants a piece of you" —"Lost in a Crowd," by Pittsburgh-based band Rusted Root— who indeed my college roommate Tracie and high-school/college BFF @heartlandsoul did recognize from the clues, though admittedly the song itself is one of the less identifiable songs on their one big commercial album When I Woke (I myself guessed "Laugh as the Sun?" when it first started playing, which is the very similar song that comes on AFTER it). It's not "Ecstasy"— its second-biggest hit (which may have only really gotten radio play around here anyway?)—or something like "Rain"— which I dare you to click on and not start dancing—(and to be fair it's hard to parse the lyrics of the musically-recognizable songs too). But for those of you who were NOT teenagers in Western Pennsylvania in the 1990s, who did not hear this album at basically every party and event of your adolescence (I first heard the album in the make-up room during one of the high school musicals, and actually hated it—it is VERY jam-band—but over time I grew to associate it so much with happy things that now it's pure sunshine to me)— if YOU, other people, have heard any Rusted Root at ALL, it's THIS SONG— of which I'd once noted to my friends, "I always think he's singing 'Simeon the Whale'," and they've not been able to un-hear it since, either.

7: "Someone's gone out fishing, someone's high and dry"—"Beautiful Night," Paul McCartney, off his lovely 90's album Flaming Pie, which @heartlandsoul recognized— the album if not the song. And tbh I have a clear memory of them talking about this album in their college dorm room and saying, "You know, Paul McCartney really IS a genius," which is the sort of thing I WOULD remember, wouldn't I.

8: "[title of song slightly altered] this time, to get myself in shape" --"It's Going to Take Some Time," by the Carpenters. Karen, the single most gorgeous female singing voice in the history of music! (Not her emotionally abusive brother who effectively killed her by stressing her out so much she got anorexia, NOT THAT JERK, JUST KAREN! KAREN, MY LOVE, WHOSE VOICE ALONE TAKES ME ONE HALF-CLICK UP THE KINSEY SCALE! SHE MUST BE REVERED ALONE!) 9: "[Title of song], sing us a song of a love that once belonged" —"Nightingale," by Norah Jones, off her album Come Away With Me, which I feel was a decent-sized hit album around the turn of the century? At least my mom raved about it, and my yoga teacher loved it enough to play it during our lessons. This was around the time when I was seriously rewriting-with-intention-of-publication the book my favorite OC Billy 'Arrison is in, so he was on my mind a lot, and Norah Jones has a somewhat similar voice to @heartlandsoul, who was the inspiration for the character in the book that Billy has a massive crush on, so I decided that if Billy was around right now for the height of this album then he would ALSO have a massive celebrity crush on Norah Jones. And I can't not think of that since.

10: "Well I told you once and I told you twice, but you never listen to my advice" —"The Last Time," by the Rolling Stones. Which isn't really obscure, it's just slightly less known than the stuff that made the main list. Tracie recognized it but couldn't name the specifics.

11: "Now I'm not like this, I'm really kind of shy, but I get this feeling whenever you walk by." —"Let me take you home tonight," by Boston, off their self-titled debut album. Probably like the least-well-known song on the album.

12: "You were the sweetest thing that I ever knew. But I don't care for sugar honey if I can't have you." —"Walking on Broken Glass," by Annie Lennox, and yeah, I wasn't sure if "Here Comes the Rain Again" was really more well-known than this, but considering three people got that one and only @alihahdnaid got this one, I guess I picked right. Unless I psyched you out by picking one of them to be "more mainstream" in the first place.

Anyway, that was fun! I think doing such a long list this time got it out of my system, and I'm willing to wait a bit before I pull another round out on you. Thanks to everyone who played this time though!

[lavendarhearts]

holy shit no bc like I was literally just supposed to be doing hw but I think I got distracted and suddenly I'm crying bc I dived into David Tennant lore like he's in Good Omens, Doctor Who, and Ducktales, right? WELL, in Doctor Who, they said there were different universes so I'm thinking maybe all the shows and movies that David Tennant are in are just different universes. Like, David and Catherine Tate are both in Doctor Who and Ducktales. HOWEVER, in Ducktales, they are each other's greatest enemies while in Doctor Who, they are best friends. In parallel universes, few things change and what if Ducktales was literally just a parallel duck universe??? LETS NOT FORGET THE DOCTOR WHO REFERENCES IN GOOD OMENS EITHER. Ik it's just stuff the cast put in but pls just feed into my delulu mind. AND LETS ALSO NOT FORGET THAT NINA'S ACTRESS, NINA SOSANYA IS ALSO IN DOCTOR WHO, AS WELL AS ANNA MAXWELL MARTIN IN S1. What if Community, b99, and Parks and rec are also connected to this? BC Danny Pudi, Jim Rash, and Bridget Brewster are all in Communty BUT THEYRE ALSO IN DUCKTALES W DAVID TENNANT. And in Community, it stars Jason Mantzoucas. Ik he only made like one appearance but hear me out. What if it was just Pimento under cover or in hiding? He was also in Parks and Rec. You know who was in Parks and Rec? JEAN RALPHIO. WHO IS JEAN RALPHIO? DEWEY DUCK. BUT GUESS WHAT?? THERES MORE. Jameela Jamil was also in Ducktales as Gandra Dee but you know who her most iconic role is? Tahani Al Jamil in The Good Place. The Good Place also has Marc Evan Jackson but he was also in FUCKING DUCKTALES. BUT JASON MANTZOUCAS IS ALSO IN DUCKTALES???? SO IS STEPHANIE BEATRIZ WHO IS ALSO IN B99. WHO ELSE IS IN BROOKLYN 99? MARC EVAN JACKSON AS KEVIN COZNER. Giancarlo Esposito is also in Ducktales apparently but he was also Gilbert from Community. BUT WAIT WHAT IF HARRY POTTER IS CONNECTED TOO? BC DAVID TENNANT IS BARTY CROUCH JR AND BARTY CROUCH SR IS ROGER LLOYD PACK AND HE IS IN DOCTOR WHO S2. FILCH WAS THE FIRST DOCTOR. ANDREW GARFIELD IS SPIDERMAN BUT HE IS IN DOCTOR WHO AS WELL????????? WHO ELSE IS ANDREW GARFIELD KNOWN FOR? REMUS GODDAMN LUPIN THE WEREWOLF. HARRY LLOYD ISIN DOCTOR WHO BUT HE IS THE FANCAST OF LUCIUS MALFOY ALSO, WASNT MOANING MYRTLE ALSO IN DOCTOR WHO? MADAME TRACY IN GOOD OMENS IS LITERALLY RITA SKEETER, MADAM HOOCH IS CASSANDRA THE SKIN HUMAN THIBG AND THE TENTH DOCTOR LITERALLY SAYING EXPELLIARMUS LORD SEND ME MENTAL HELP AND GIVE ME PEACE IVE CONNECTED THE DOTS OMG AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE FACT THAT CATHERINE TATE IS IN THE OFFICE FUCK ME I DRANK A FAT ASS CUP OF BLACK COFFEE W SUGAR

[hebuiltfive]

Thundertober Day Nine: Heartbreak

Follows on from this small prompt fill: here

AO3 here

Days: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight

Warnings for: None, only for a heartbroken Squid. You should never leave a fight unresolved and Gordon is about to find out why the hard way. Tagging: @thunder-tober @skymaiden32 @idontknowreallywhy (just going to put it out there that if you want to be tagged in any future Thundertober pieces, or future pieces in general, let me know and I'll tag you too!)

Giving someone the silent treatment was never as easy as it looked.

When you’re used to having someone there, someone you could call at any hour of the day, someone you could always spend time with no matter how long you’d been in their company already, suddenly not having them around was almost torturous. To add salt to a wound, being the one to initiate that lack of presence hurt all the more, especially for Gordon.

Gordon, who loved the fiercest out of all his family.

Gordon, who was always the optimist (at least, on the outside).

Gordon, who never gave up on anything, not only because he carried that Stubborn Tracy gene but also because he genuinely believed there was always a way to resolve something, no matter how bad it seemed.

But this time, it had been Gordon who initiated the cold shoulder because he was hurt and he didn’t know how else to express his feelings.

She had let him down. Again. If this was the first or second time, maybe Gordon would have let it go and brushed it off, but it wasn’t. This was more like the third or fourth time within as many months. In fact, it was becoming a more common occurrence as of late and Gordon didn’t know what to do other than to feel hurt and betrayed. 

He wasn’t someone she could just hang on her arm. He wasn’t a way for her to pass the time. 

Gordon knew deep down that Penny didn’t think or feel those things, but in that moment, he couldn’t liken his own feelings to anything else. The way she’d been acting recently had been truly hurtful, as though she purposefully was pushing him away, and he couldn’t understand why.

She had been the one to ask him on that first date. She had been the one to suggest they finally went official. Now, she was the one who was cancelling plans at the last minute without a given reason as to why. None of it made sense.

In the absence of fully reasonable excuses, Gordon’s mind had inevitably begun to wander off into all sorts of directions.

Was he not what she thought he’d be? Maybe Penny had finally come to her senses and realised that Gordon wasn’t good enough for someone like her. It was a fear that Gordon knew was ridiculous — Penny had known him well enough long before anything between them had become official — but the fear held weight and that fear was something he’d been secretly believing for a lot longer than he’d care to admit.

Penny was Penny. She was smart and beautiful and graceful. She was well-put together.

Gordon was… Gordon. He had heart, he had brains and he had the looks but… Well, there was a reason why all his relationships prior to Penny had never hit that official mark. His schtick as the Funnyman had always been the downfall. Whenever the going got tough, his goofball personality would make itself known and apparently that had never been good enough for the others. Perhaps it hadn’t been good enough for Penny either.

He had tried. Gordon had really tried to not do that this time. 

Hence the silent treatment. 

That was a more grown-up thing to do, right?

When he’d awoken the next morning, he had begun to believe that it was just as immature, if not more so, but he stuck with it because what else could he do? He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to even think about it. So, the silent treatment it was. He ignored all calls from London, he ignored his brothers whenever they tried to bring whatever happened up, and he flat-out refused to be in the room whenever her name was mentioned — he was tired of the pain that came along with it.

Unfortunately for Gordon, this silent treatment didn’t last long. Two days after that damned call when Gordon had begun to offer the cold shoulder to Penny, she arrived on the island. Gordon locked himself in his room, refusing to come out even for Alan’s tempting offer of Celery Crunch bars and a binge-watch marathon of Into The Unknown. 

He had thought his plan of ignoring the situation was fool-proof, that he was a mastermind for thinking it up… Until he heard Penny’s gentle knock.

Her dulcet tone quietly echoed through the wood of his door. “Gordon? I know you don’t want to talk to me right now—”

He tensed up, jumping out from his bed sheets as though he was ready to run. To where, he had no idea. There was nowhere else to run. By locking himself away in his room, he had inadvertently given Penny an opportune way to corner him and force that conversation out of him. 

Gordon wasn’t going to take it. “Damn right I don’t! Go away.”

On the other side of the door, Penny paused.

Really nice, idiot, Gordon silently cursed himself for his brash response. No matter how angry or hurt he felt, he knew better than to lash out. Still, he didn’t apologise.

“I understand that you’re upset with me, and I’m sorry about what happened but—”

Gordon cut her off again. “You’re sorry every time, Pen. Sorry means you won’t do it again, but you keep blowing me off, so I’m sorry that I don’t believe you.”

“Gordon,” she tried again, her voice barely cracking despite her words, “you have to know that I didn’t mean to—”

“We’ve been over this, Pen! You didn’t want to. You couldn’t help it. Something more urgent came up.” Gordon was aware that his attempts to mock her, accent and all, was probably not aiding his attempts of seeming mature. He didn’t care. “You told me all of this a couple of nights ago already.”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“Well, I don’t care about the truth. I make the time, Pen. I cancel the other things and I make the time for you.”

“You wouldn’t cancel a rescue call, and I would never ask you to.”

He felt like a caught fish with that one. It made him take a pause. Weaker, with a shake of his head despite Penny’s inability to see it, Gordon replied. “That’s different.”

“Believe me when I tell you that it is not.”

There was an uneasy silence that fell between them. Gordon had momentarily believed Penny had walked away, and he found himself desperately hoping that she hadn’t. For all the pain he felt from this falling out, despite being the one to initiate that silent treatment, Gordon had never before wanted to hold her so tightly in his arms. He debated going over to his locked door, placing a hand on the wood panelling and imagining Penny’s soft cheek beneath his fingers. He decided against it.

The silence was broken by another sigh from Penelope. It was barely audible, but Gordon heard it. It was almost enough to get him to open the door.

“I have to go.” She warned, leaving the rest of any explanation open for him to jump in, to fix it one last time.

But Gordon, foolishly, didn’t. “Then go. I don’t care.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his lips, and he would continue the regret them until the day he died.

Gordon heard Penny walking away, disguising what he was sure was a sniffle as a scuff of her shoe. He heard Virgil’s mumble through his door that Penny and Parker had left. He felt his already broken heart crumble just a little bit more and he had gone to sleep with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that night.

In the morning, he awoke to John’s call. A situation they were all needed on.

Penny had gone missing, taken during a mission that had gone wrong, and just like that, Gordon’s heart completely shattered. 

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Shock ‘Em Dead (Freed, 1991)

I remember years ago when I first watched and became obsessed with the great Canadian classic Rock’n’Roll Nightmare, I found a list of heavy metal horror movies online as I was searching for recommendations in this genre that I was certain was uniformly amazing and had no bad movies. I remember seeing this ranked right at the top, over the other movie and some better known ones, and assumed it had to be even wilder and crazier. Having finally seen it now after all those years, this shit is not better than Rock’n’Roll Nightmare. In fact, it’s kind of terrible.

Honestly, the big problem here is that the main character, even before he makes his Faustian bargain with a voodoo priestess to become a great hair metal guitarist, is never likeable. When we first meet, he’s not just cartoonishly dorky, which is not a crime by any means, but we see him creeping on his coworker as she changes. After his transformation, instead of living it up with his three super foxy girlfriends, he decides to go harass his old coworkers, despite the fact that they’re working a late shift and probably for minimum wage. And when he’s making it with one of his girlfriends, he starts acting like a little bitch when he sees her true nature (burn marks) in the mirror. One, they don’t look that bad. Two, if he’s that grossed out, can’t he just take down the mirrors? So yeah, hard to root for this guy. Also, this was 1991. A Faustian bargain for hair metal success seems like a bad deal, especially as Nevermind was released that year and grunge was now in.

Other than that, aside from one sequence that looks credibly like a hair metal music video, most of this movie is in an ugly, televisual style, like a bad sitcom. The music is pretty lame too, largely covers of non-hair-metal songs, although some of the more exaggerated noodling on the guitar looks pretty funny. And because the main character’s weakness is apparently food (which the voodoo priestess tells another character and then tries to trick him into a bargain as well, which is a pretty poor sales tactic as she already told him what he needed to know), we get an extremely lame climax where a guy runs around trying to kill the baddies with food paste.

If I can find some nice things to say about this, it’s that Karen Russell as one of the girlfriends is probably the best character here. She proves pretty handy with a switchblade, is pretty forthcoming about the conditions of their voodoo curse, and I found it a little poignant the extent to which she’s made peace with her present realities. A better movie would have done her character more justice in this regard. There’s also Laurel Wiley as another one of the girlfriends, who gets some good puns about her need to feast on souls. And Traci Lords plays the most overtly sympathetic character, and wears a cute hat in her first scene. And while a lot of this is extremely lame, there is one very funny scene where the main character takes over the band in the middle of a show by kicking the lead singer off the stage and then vomits on an audience member at the end of a song.

[theghostpinesmusic]

A few flashback photos from our day in Skagway! Vertical shots coming in a separate post because Instagram sucks now...

Our first "real" stop (in the sense that the boat docked and we got off and stepped onto land instead of just another boat) was in Skagway. I didn't really know anything about the town before we got there, and while I was excited to learn more and to take in the sights, I was also a little worried that this particular day's activities were going to be too tourist-y for my tastes. Especially after the previous day's eye-opening trip up the fjord, I felt like traveling around Skagway and its environs in the company of a "costumed guide" (as advertised) might feel a bit...inauthentic?

Luckily, I needn't have worried.

Now, tourism is a strange thing. The relative "authenticity" of this or that experience is something that's pretty much always on my mind to some degree when I'm traveling, whether we're talking ten-year-old me at Disney World (I was a weird kid) or forty-year-old me in the "wild" mountains, surrounded by twenty other backpackers, all of us tracking our progress on our phones in real time. In this particular case, we were in Skagway in the first place because we were on a cruise, which is a super *fun* way to experience just about anything, but rolling into town on a huge ocean liner and then getting chauffered around all day because you have money is hardly the best way to experience any place from anything approaching a local's-eye view.

That said, I've had a ruggedly romantic notion of Alaska in my mind my entire adult life, informed by obsessively reading Krakauer and other nature/adventure writers and, later, my own adventures in the mountains and on the glaciers of not-Alaska, and while I'd always known this trip, on its face, was not going to be some Artic Dreams-style struggle for survival, I'd hoped to glean some small sense of what such a thing might be like amidst and maybe in spite of the buffets and slot machines (both literal and figurative).

I'd managed this on the boat up Tracy Arm, and with a little help managed it in Skagway, too.

We learned a bunch about the history of the town and the Alaskan Gold Rush in general, as well as how to pan for gold (this part was sort-of geared more toward kids, but it was still interesting). We learned a bunch of *fascinating*, intense stuff about the Iditarod, met some sled dogs, and got to play with sled dog puppies (If I hadn't already raised my own puppy, this might have been the best moment of my life). Then we rode a train along an absolutely crazy Gold Rush-era railroad track (built for the Gold Rush but only finished after it had petered out).

The train ride, in particular, was great: I like learning stuff, and I like seeing massive mountains and valleys, *and* riding trains, so I was pretty much set. Plus, while all of the day's events were presided over by our "costumed guide," he really came into his own once we were his captive audience on board the train.

As we found out over the course of the train ride, our guide had made his way to Skagway and his employment there via a journey that had a lot in common with the Gold Rush pioneers he was being paid to teach us about. He had, apparently, taken the job somewhat spontaneously after finishing college in New York state, moving away from everything he was familiar with to this small town in Alaska that he very clearly already loved after only having lived there for a few months. His enthusiasm for, well, *everything* was contagious, and I'd be lying if I did said he didn't remind me of myself a little bit at that age, or at least the version of me that I'd tried and likely often failed to be back then. At forty-two, his excitement and earnestness were reminders that in the last twenty years I've become less adventurous and more guarded than I'd like. As the train ride finished, he took his last few minutes with us to recite a legitimately lengthy poem about the Gold Rush written by a local poet, and despite the train car being packed by a group of hungry tourists, you could have heard a pin drop when he finished.

The whole experience was inspiring enough that Lindsey and I decided to take our last bit of time in port to hike out to the edge of town and take a trail a mile and five hundred or so feet up into the mountains to the first alpine lake we could find. There, we ran into a guy who'd left his cruising family behind temporarily for a similar reason, and we all spent a few minutes talking about (you guessed it) tourism and authenticity and all of that fun stuff. Then he took our picture!

The end.

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Steo

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Donovan Donati, Josh Diaz

Warnings: underage drinking, Donovan doesn't understand the word no (no rape he's just pushy and rude)

Words: 2775

Ao3 link

Safe in Your Arms

---

Why does it seem like when it comes to the word no, no one seems to believe Stiles when he says it? He told both Scott and Lydia that while he’d gladly participate in their game night, he instantly shot down the idea of those games being of the drinking variety. He didn’t want to go to a party. Stiles was outvoted. So he decided that he simply wouldn’t go.

Apparently he can be outvoted with that too.

Bullshit.

That’s how he found himself at Lydia’s packed lake house Friday night. In the middle of a fucking party. Exactly where he didn’t want to be. And neither the banshee or Scott are even hanging out with him!

“You look pissed,” Josh says from behind where Stiles is stewing in the kitchen. The chimera that tried to kill him on the hospital roof turned out to be a pretty great guy when he’s not crazed.

Polishing the rest of his cup of whatever expensive bottle Lydia gave him as consolation for being here, Stiles sighs. Pouring more of the amber liquid about halfway- if he’s forced to be here, he’d rather not remember it- he faces the chimera. “What’s up, Josh?” Stiles aims for easy going, ending up sounding more irritated than anything. He winces, it’s not like it’s the other boy’s fault that he’s here.

“Are you okay?” Josh asks, pouring his red plastic up with the special, supernaturally altered beer.

Scoffing into his drink, “is that you or your Alpha asking?” Stiles fights not to roll his eyes.

Right. Theo Raeken. Josh’s pack Alpha and his own childhood best friend turned enemy. Theo lived here when they were kids, but left after the death- possible murder- of his sister. Stiles can admit that he had a crush on the chimera when they were younger. And if he still does after everything that’s happened since his return- denying Theo’s constant requests to join his pack instead, the chimera trying to kill Scott before getting his own spark, and hurting Lydia- well, Stiles isn’t telling anyone.

Not even himself.

While everyone else seemed to agree to work together for the sake of coexisting in peace and eventually become friends, Stiles just can’t. With Theo at least. Corey, Josh, and Hayden aren’t really at fault having been kidnapped and experimented on. There isn’t a single chimera that Stiles butts heads with like Theo. Not even Tracy and she also tried to kill him. Intentionally.

“It’s just me,” Josh assures him, smiling softly before draining some of his drink. “I like to think we were friends before everything happened.”

“We were- are. We are friends,” Stiles corrects, pinching the bridge of his nose, biting off a groan. Hurting the raiju wasn’t his goal. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I just didn’t really want to be here tonight.”

Josh, like the puppy he is, cocks his head to the side in confusion, “it’s just a party.”

“I don’t have a great track record when it comes to parties,” Stiles deadpans and Josh waves his hand while drinking to tell him to continue. “This girl Heather that I’d known since we were in diapers was kidnapped and ritually sacrificed at her sixteenth birthday party. The last two parties Lydia threw weren’t exactly a fun time either.” Stiles scoffs at the memories. “My ex nearly broke her restraints and killed me. And the one before was a mass hallucination to help bring a psychotic killer back to life.” Taking another sip, he reiterates, “I’m not big on parties anymore.”

“We’re fixing that-” Josh chugs the rest of his beer and tosses the cup in the trash, “-right now.” The chimera grabs Stiles free arm, “finish that,” he points at the drink. Stiles tentatively puts the cup to his lips and the raiju tilts it, “that’s it. Finish up. Good, let’s go.” The human barely has a chance to put his cup down before he’s pulled out of the room.

“Where are you taking me?” The human tries not to trip or bump into anyone as everything gets a nice blur to it. He fails. “Sorry, Liam,” he apologizes to the wolf whose foot he just stomped on.

Josh doesn’t say anything until they’re in the living room where a lot of people have gathered to dance. “Just because you didn’t want to be here,” the raiju starts to sway with the beat, pulling Stiles’ arms like a puppet to get him to move. “That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself now that you are.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“This is what you do for friends, Stiles.” Josh lets go of his wrists and smiles when the human continues to dance without guidance. “That’s it,” the raiju coos, pulling Stiles- who’s fighting his own smile- by his waist to dance together. Josh leans in to talk in his ear over the music. “Don’t think about Scott. Don’t worry about Theo. Just be. It’s good for you.”

For once in his life, or maybe it’s just the booze, Stiles lets go. Frees his mind and body to the music and to Josh. Allowing himself to just exist with another person and have fun. This is totally something Lydia would’ve done for him. Finding it in the raiju is heartwarming. Josh is a much better friend to him than Stiles initially thought.

They stay like that for another song or two. Dancing, laughing, and having a good time until the raiju’s head jerks up.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles pauses despite the light buzzing in his brain wanting to sway him some more.

Josh smiles and shakes his head, “Alpha calls.” A feeling Stiles certainly understands and tries to leave the ‘dancefloor’. “No, you stay. You smell incredibly happy and at ease. Don’t lose that.” Well, he doesn’t really want to lose the chimera’s company either. “I’ll come back if I can, deal?”

“Deal,” the human beams, effortlessly falling back in time with the thumping speakers. Several songs and some sweat later, just as Stiles is about to leave, a hand wraps around his waist. “Theo done ordering you around already?” The owner of the hand doesn’t answer and a crotch grinds against his ass. “Okay, Josh, that’s a step too-” he shoves the hand away as he turns to find, “Donovan.”

“Hey gorgeous,” the wendigo yanks Stiles to his chest, making the human stumble. “Dance with me,” he says, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ neck as if it’s meant to make the offer more enticing.

Bile bubbles in Stiles’ chest. “N-no,” the human tries to back away, but Donovan digs his fingers in.

“Come on, sweetheart, it’s just one dance.” His lips brush Stiles’ ear, making the nausea worse as fear joins in. “I’ll make sure you have a good time.”

Fight or flight merge together as one inside the human. Kneeing Donovan in the balls, Stiles seethes, “I said no,” before fleeing to the kitchen. Dead set on grabbing a water before locking himself in one of the spare rooms until he’s sober to drive. The room is spinning a little too much for his taste, he could use the hydration.

Thankfully, the kitchen is empty, so Stiles yanks open the fridge and unabashedly chugs a bottle of water. Droplets sliding down his jaw to his neck as he crumples the plastic, gasping loudly once finished. Tossing the empty bottle in the trash, Stiles grabs another, already feeling his head start to clear.

Closing the door, Stiles barely makes it two steps before a hand finds his waist again, forcing him to turn around.

“That wasn’t very nice, Stiles,” Donovan growls.

Sarcastic to his core and unable to stop his remark, Stiles bites back, “not my fault you don’t seem to understand the word no.”

“I saw you dancing all sexy like that,” the wendigo backs him almost completely against the island. “You were begging for someone to touch you. Don’t be such a tease.”

Just as the human is gearing up to let his knee meet Donovan’s nuts again, something beautiful happens. Theo walks into the kitchen. The wendigo isn’t aware of the Alpha’s presence yet. Theo takes one look at them and rolls his eyes. Stiles can’t really blame him. From the outside, this looks like two people becoming intimate with one another. Clearly the chimera isn’t using his senses.

It's a split second decision. But Stiles comes to the conclusion that his self appointed enemy is a much better option than Donovan. "H-hey, babe," Stiles wiggles out of the wendigo's grasp and all but throws himself into Theo's arms once the Alpha is within reach.

The chimera takes one whiff of Stiles' scared scent and his saucers for eyeballs and it clicks. With a low growl, Theo puts the human under his opposite arm, shielding Stiles with his body. "Hey, baby," Theo says easily, like he has thousands of times before, kissing Stiles' temple. He can't even be mad about it, it needs to be believable for Donovan. He's definitely ignoring how nice it felt. "Is this guy bothering you?"

"Of course not," Donovan smiles too widely. "Stiles and I were just talking."

Theo scoffs, "really? It seemed to me like you were putting your hands where they don't belong." Stiles curls into the Alpha at the wendigo's sneer.

"Maybe you should keep your bitch on a leash."

"Watch it," Theo growls.

"It's not my fault he was flaunting himself and flashing fuck me eyes like a slut."

The chimera snarls, putting Stiles behind him and lunging the small space, grabbing Donovan by his collar, "What about my eyes, hmm? What are they telling you?" Theo rumbles threateningly, "touch what's mine again and you'll lose your fucking hands. Got it?"

Donovan, visibly shaking from Alpha authority, or just being scared shitless stammers out, "y-yeah. T-totally. Never again, I p-promise."

"Good," Theo says lightheartedly, letting go and brushing the wendigo's shoulders off like his last sentence wasn’t a threat. "Now apologize to him." Donovan goes to speak, but Theo cuts him off, pointing his finger at him. "Make it count, because these are the last words you ever say to my mate, do you understand?"

If at all possible, the wendigo pales even more at the word mate. Stiles does his best to not look as shell-shocked as he feels. He didn't expect Theo to hold up the façade this well. But here we are. Maybe Stiles was wrong about him after all. His heart is certainly loving the entire situation. If it were its own being, the damn thing would probably be licking the Alpha’s fucking face. Traitor.

"Fuck," Donovan mumbles. "I'm so sorry for acting like that, Stiles. If I knew you were mated I never would have pushed. I'm sorry, Theo."

Grabbing Theo's hand in case his words get him in trouble, Stiles retorts, "me being mated with Theo isn't an excuse for you to be a creep to someone that isn't. No means no. The first fucking time." One hundred percent not processing that he more or less accepted Theo to be his mate. By were-creature standards at least.

The chimera squeezes his hand, giving him a mildly shocked look before facing the wendigo. "You heard him. Now fuck off," he enunciates with a snarl to drive the point home.

Donovan runs.

Stiles tries to let go of the huffing Alpha, "I-I'm sorry, Theo-"

"Not here," the chimera cuts him off, sounding like he's still slurring through his fangs. Then Theo's guiding him upstairs to the soundproofed room with the record player, holding his hand the entire way. The human is incredibly thankful for the security. And also too busy focusing on that to notice the way Theo's thumb brushes the back of his hand. The Alpha closes the door behind them, shutting out the raging party downstairs. The only sound left is Stiles’ hammering heart and Theo’s quick, forced breaths.

Stiles can’t handle the silence, “I’m sorry I put you in that position. I just didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t listening to me tell him no and apparently me kneeing him in the balls was too subtle.” Red eyes meet his amber and the human is terrified he’s pissed Theo off. “I really am sorry if I made you uncomfortable too, but, thank you for helping me.”

Still the Alpha doesn’t speak and it’s then Stiles realizes they’re still holding hands. When he tries to let go, Theo holds tighter. “I need you to be completely honest with me, Stiles.” His words are clipped, like he’s forcing himself to stay in control and speak in complete sentences. Theo’s fangs are gone, but his rubies burn on. “No lies. No half truths. No tricks. Can you do that?”

When he opens his mouth to speak, no words come out. How the fuck is he supposed to be honest after what just happened? But still, Stiles nods his head.

“I’m glad you finally feel safe around me,” Theo starts. “But would you have pulled the babe card with anyone else?”

“Probably not.” That’s technically the truth. Stiles just can’t really admit what that fact means. That he’s happy it was Theo that showed up. That he could pretend for half a second that what he was suggesting was actually reality. That Theo was his. But then that would mean he would have to say those words out loud. That Stiles is painfully in love with someone who’s done heinous things and the human doesn’t care nearly as much about it as he says he does.

Pinching his eyes closed, “I’m trying to keep two supernatural creatures under control right now, Stiles.” Theo’s red eyes bore into him once more. “Yes or no, please.”

Shit.

“No,” he says and the chimera huffs out a short laugh, turning his head. Finding some sense of courage, or maybe it’s actually fear of what the Alpha’s next question would be, Stiles says, “I get why you called me baby and kissed my head. Donovan needed to believe it was the truth. But why did you push it farther and call me your mate?”

“Miecz,” Theo almost whispers, blue eyes gracing his face again when he looks back. The name, still warming Stiles’ gut and comforting his heart. “You really need to ask?” His words are so soft and Stiles can’t help but nod. “Why do you think I wanted you in my pack so badly? Your brain is amazing and you’re strong as hell, you’d be an asset to any pack, yes. But you and I both know that’s not the real reason.”

“It’s not?” Stiles asks, sounding just as breathless and not entirely sure when that happened. He can’t even say why he asked in the first place, suddenly knowing damn sure of the answer. How could he have been so blind? So fucking stubborn? Because Theo has more than proved that he’s not who he used to be. That he’s more or less good. And Stiles has been stupidly denying himself because of his pride.

“Tell me you don’t want this- me,” Theo steps closer, stroking the back of the human’s hand again. “We can work up to mates if you’re comfortable with that. If you even want that. But just,” the Alpha sighs, taking another step until their chests are so close that if they took too deep of a breath they’d touch. “If you tell me no, I’ll respect it and walk away.”

Stiles’ eyes dart around the chimera’s face, trying to find some sense of a joke in this. Things don’t work out this well for him on a good day. But he finds nothing but earnest in those ocean pools. So he finds no trouble saying, “yes,” and closes the distance of their mouths. Humming softly into the kiss, he presses his body against the Alpha’s wrapping his arms around the chimera. Theo’s hand pulls them flush by the small of Stiles’ back, the other cupping his cheek as his tongue slips into the human’s mouth to deepen their kiss.

It’s not fireworks and choirs singing, but fuck if it doesn’t feel right. Like something he should’ve been doing for a long time now.

“Thank you so much for walking in the kitchen,” Stiles mumbles when they part for air.

Theo chuckles, dropping his hand to keep the human close, “I told you I’d look out for you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Stiles grins, “but I’d much prefer if you just kissed me again.”

Theo presses their lips together again with a soft chuckle.

Maybe coming to the party wasn’t so bad after all.

[gumnut-logic]

Food in the Tracy household is a fugitive thing.

It has been known to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. It has been known to be squirrelled away as if a billionaire or six may suddenly run into famine. It has been known to be spooned gently into a sick family member.

It has been known to be wrapped in decorative paper and handed over as gifts.

Yes, food is very popular in the Tracy household.

Well, all the food that wasn’t cooked by Grandma that is.

Why does Grandma continues to cook ghastly concoctions even though everyone in the building, including the many appropriately positioned pot plants, knows that it is a major failing on her part? Only Grandma knows.

Virgil suspects it is simply out of love and a need to show how much she truly cares.

Alan secretly suspects it is a long term plan to summon a demon.

In any case, it is highly recommended to all guests that their grandmother’s cooking be avoided.

Or exorcised, according to Alan.

Each of the boys has their favourite foods of course and each their own quirks at consuming them.

Scott is efficient. That is the only word that can really be applied. He’s a busy man. Food is necessary. It gets eaten. His tastes are simple and easy. It’s food, he’s hungry, get out of my way, Gordon.

He can knock some eggs up, a good sandwich…don’t let him near the barbecue unless you desire charcoal for your meal. Seared steak apparently comes in shades of black.

Virgil, on the other hand, loves a good meal. Sure, he’s a busy man too, but there is a lot of him needing feeding and he has been known to take those few extra minutes over a meal just to enjoy it. A snooze afterwards never hurts. Digestion is something one’s body should enjoy.

Never get between Virgil and his meal. You may be bulldozed. Politely bulldozed, but flattened nonetheless. He’s a busy man. This is his time with his food, don’t interrupt, Gordon, shut up.

Virgil can cook. As long as it is steak.

There have been wars fought over the barbecue between the two eldest brothers.

Do not touch Virgil’s steak.

Particularly if you are Scott.

John appreciates a fine meal. Of the five brothers, he is the one who will know about the wine. He’ll know which region it came from, what it should be eaten with and which year grew the plant it was made from. This, of course, means he is the most likely culprit to steal Scott’s boutique beers out of the fridge…to the point that one of the first signs of the middle brother being back on Earth is the sudden missing bottles from said refrigerator.

Virgil thinks it is hilarious.

Scott’s worried his brother is a secret alcoholic and keeps monitoring his intake.

Alan keeps messing with Scott’s head by pinching extra bottles to ‘up John’s intake’.

Gordon messes with everyone by refilling the bottles with apple juice.

But yes, John is the one to appreciate a good meal, most likely because he has to eat all that space crap eighty percent of the time.

Virgil likes to make sure his brother gets a treat from time to time.

So John gets gifted lots of steak.

Alan is fed and watered regularly. With four older brothers, a sister and a grandmother, it is not like he has any choice. The appropriate quantities of vegetables and fruit are provided daily and his consumption noted. Any diversion from the menu is queried thoroughly and a health assessment performed, usually by a pair of stern blue eyes that take their responsibility ever so seriously.

Too bad those eyes have yet to work out that quite a bit of that food is delivered to the two pet hamsters he has stashed in his room. Also Buddy and Ellie consume a diet not recommended by any vet on Planet Earth.

Buddy and Ellie have been eyeing the hamsters for quite some time and are happy Alan is fattening them up.

The hamsters agree with Alan regarding Grandma’s cooking and often mistake Gordon for the demon she is apparently attempting to summon.

Alan doesn’t mind his diet too much. He knows his brothers just love him to death and the feeling is mutual. Plus Kayo slips him junk food on a regular basis. How she got hot churros to the Island still hot, he has yet to work out…Shadow is fast, but really?

As for Kayo, she eats what she wants to eat. No one is going to argue with her. Hey, you want the last pancake, be my guest, here have the maple syrup. After all, she did get her nickname from the big blowout of 2049. One cupcake, five skittle brothers and a very hungry young female bowling ball. Hey, you try growing up in a house full of men and boys. It is either kick ass or have yours handed to you. Gordon, touch that and you die.

Don’t mess with Kayo. Regarding food, or any topic for that matter. Just don’t mess with her. Take her name as a warning and stand back.

No one is quite sure what Grandma eats. Alan is pretty sure it isn’t her own cooking otherwise how could she have possibly lived this long? Virgil keeps an eye on her, makes sure she is happy and content and has everything she needs. Gordon once tried scientific method on his grandmother and her food consumption, leaving several tempting tidbits around the place fixed with sensors to see which would take her fancy. Results were inconclusive since Alan ate half the experiment.

Virgil poured pink dye in the pool and the hypothesis was abandoned.

Brains is the trash can of the Island. He will eat anything put within arm’s reach. The engineer finds food an inconvenient bodily function and often won’t stop working to fulfil his body’s needs. Food appears beside him, the one neuron not focussed on whatever he is doing declares the food his and it is consumed efficiently.

Virgil quickly learnt to keep his lunch out of Brains’ reach when they are working together. One too many instances of going hungry because of grabby food hands taught him quickly.

Gordon, of course, thinks it is hilarious. The aquanaut once sat quietly beside the working engineer and managed to feed him an entire cheesecake piece by piece.

Scott was not impressed when Brains threw up on his shoes fifteen minutes later during his maintenance report. Gordon, go to my office, now!

And that leaves Gordon.

Gordon is a seagull. If you’ve got it, he wants it, and he will nag you until you give it to him.

Of course, this doesn’t prevent him from acquiring his own. Seagulls are scavengers after all. Then he will sit at the table with his plate or bowl of whatever and quite calmly sit there pinching things off your plate.

Whether he does this to amuse himself, or he has a psychological disorder, none of the brothers have bothered to investigate. It’s just Gordon, slap his fingers as needed. Of course, Kayo doesn’t have a problem. No one would dare steal from her plate.

Well, he did try once. Most people think the scar on his hand is just one of those from the hydrofoil accident.

It isn’t.

Of course, there was the time where he ate the steak Scott and Virgil were arguing over. They didn’t realise it until a full ten minutes later, by which time Gordon was no longer in the room, taking the digesting steak with him.

Grandma got to bake him a cake for that one.

But yes, in general, food in the Tracy household is a little chaotic. There have been death threats, mild bruising, profanity, theft, slander, the occasional all out war and sometimes a whole pile of mischief. But honestly, under it all? There is a whole pile of love. Because push comes to shove, each and every Tracy, by name or not, will give their all to help another.

And that includes food.

Though Grandma’s cookies have been declared lethal weaponry and throwing one results in mandatory dish duty for a month. Gordon, for the love of everything, put that down now!

-o-o-o-

[voidstilesplease]

all the world's a stage;

actor!stiles/musician!theo au

Stiles and Theo had played supporting roles in a well-received television show about supernatural creatures for close to six years. Their characters, in particular, were fan-favorites since the pilot episode - even more popular than the leading couple of the show - because of the apparent and undeniable chemistry between them. Off of the green screen, the two had grown inseparable as well, igniting more speculations about the extent of their relationship in real life - something they had never publicly acknowledged nor denied throughout the years. Theo never went for subtle anyway. Anyone with two eyes would have known.

When the show teased about his and Stiles's characters finally falling into place after a long-drawn game of will-they-won't-they, everything fell apart instead. Theo left the show in a whirlwind of misunderstandings and contractual compromises to pursue his music career - something Stiles had been endlessly supportive about - and flushed the long-awaited relationship arc in the history of teen television down the drain along with the show's ratings. And their friendship, too, it seemed. Because when Theo affixed his signature on that record deal, he also signed the best things in his life away. Something he wished he'd known before.

In a matter of a few months, Theo had managed to climb up the charts with his debut single blowing up overnight, followed by the immediate success of his debut album, and suddenly he was in every billboard in major cities across continents. He'd bought himself countryside properties, appeared in countless interviews, sold out thousands of tickets for stadiums bigger than he had imagined. Oh, and he had procured a supermodel girlfriend within those months, too.

Everything looked perfect. It was all that Theo had ever envisioned and described to Stiles in colorful detail back in that old trailer truck hours after work.

Except not really. For a while, sure. The first year of fame was like a dream, the second a little less so. The third - not at all. Theo would rather go back to that little set in that Californian suburb to kiss Stiles even after the lights went out. Then maybe he wouldn't be writing songs about being happily in love without feeling it. Tracy was gorgeous and all, but marriage wasn't in their agreement. Nor a baby. But now, both were coming his way all the same.

He thought he could go back after putting a star beside his name. But there wasn't even anything to go back to, was there? Stiles... he was in much more thriving movies now, blockbusters. He'd been in relationships, too - with men. Because, unlike Theo, he was brave enough to tell the world. He was free enough to tell the world. They were often invited to the same parties and after-parties and had friends of friends in the same circle. But he never could walk over to him and rectify it - what they had, or what they were supposed to have before Theo chose a different spotlight to play in.

Because, yeah, he had given up on being an actor. But all his world's a stage now.

~•~

(listen to this, thanks)

[tsarisfanfiction]

A Little Fall Of Rain

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, John

Here is my contribution to @tagminibang!  My artist was the absolutely fantastic @chenria and you can find her accompanying art over here.  Something nice and family friendly from us here (please don’t mind the title, it has nothing to do with a certain musical song), and of course some good old Scott&John because who doesn’t love that?

John’s pulled one of his disappearing acts again, and Scott can’t relax until he knows where he’s gone.

People.  There were people everywhere, all dressed to the nines and peacocking around.  Nothing particularly unusual for an event hosted by Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, where no-one in attendance was worth less than at least ten million dollars apiece and appearing to be the poorest in the room would make you a target for the vampires of the elite.

It was a gauntlet Scott would have gladly accepted, not particularly bothered by how others perceived him and his wealth, except the problem with being a Tracy was that his status of multi-billionaireness was well known, and he was actually richer than most of the aristocracy in attendance, even if there were a few Old Money families that looked down their noses at the Tracys for being New Money.

Still, the buffer of their wealth was, at least, sparing his brother from being preyed upon as the poor, charity case invited to look good.  Scott wasn’t sure who the actual poorest person in the room was, but anything to keep at least some of the pressure of the occasion off of John was always worth it.

It was a well known fact that John despised this sort of event.  Too many people, too much noise and gravity, too many expected conversations and a lot of interest in the elusive Tracy.  Scott still wasn’t sure why Lady Penelope insisted he attend these things, and knew that John was going to hide himself up on Thunderbird Five for at least a month and come down for absolutely nothing or no-one as soon as he escaped the party.  She called it good for him, and a breath of fresh air, and Scott only let it slide because John never actually said no.

Speaking of his brother, he’d once again lost sight of the distinctive ginger hair amongst the vibrant colours of the event.  Hopefully, that meant that John was just in hiding, rather than the chance he’d been dragged into a conversation out of Scott’s current sight.  He glanced around the room again, just to be sure, and when no flash of ginger caught his eye, set his shoulders and beelined for their host.

Resplendent in a stunning light pink ballgown, elegant hands covered with equally elegant white gloves and hair coiffed into something gravity-defying yet somehow not at all outrageous, Lady Penelope was entertaining an elderly woman who Scott had been briefly introduced to earlier in the event, some hours ago, as the Duchess of Royston.  As far as the British aristocrats seemed to go, she seemed quite amicable, so Scott had no qualms about stepping in as their conversation paused.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but have you seen John recently?”

“Have you lost him?” Lady Penelope asked, sounding the faintest bit amused.  If it was anyone else, Scott would have been annoyed at that, but a longstanding friendship with the Lady told him there was no malice or judgement behind it.  It was the amusement of someone who knew how much John hated crowds, and how much Scott could, according to his brothers, hover.  “I’m afraid I haven’t seen him recently.”

The answer wasn’t surprising, but it was a little disappointing.

“The redheaded young man?” the Duchess asked, and Scott turned to her.  “I do believe I saw him heading for the doors earlier.”  She gestured to the small side door that led out of the ballroom and, if Scott’s memory served, towards the gardens.

John was likely hiding, then.

Scott smiled at both women.  “Thank you,” he said, inclining his head a little towards the older of the two.  “I’ll leave you to your conversation.  Sorry again for the interruption.”

“What a charming young man,” he heard as he walked away.  “Penelope, I know it’s not my place to say, but you could do far worse than a man like that.”

Scott picked up the pace a little, determined to get out of earshot of whatever reply to that Lady Penelope would make, and making a note to never let Gordon know.

The rich like to talk to the rich, and although Scott was on a mission to find and check on his brother, he was waylaid by at least three other people all wanting to discuss all manner of things from International Rescue to, disconcertingly, his ongoing bachelorship before he was able to slip through the door and head down the corridor.

Soundproofing cut off the hubbub of conversation the moment the door clicked shut behind him, proving an excellent argument for why John would come this way, and Scott followed the hallway until he found a bay window that overlooked one of the many gardens in the Creighton-Ward estate.

John was perched on the window sill, although window seat was probably a more accurate term, looking out at the gentle rain falling from the sky.  Raindrops raced each other down the panes of glass, and Scott silently settled next to him, waiting to be acknowledged.

It didn’t take long.  “I’m fine,” his brother said quietly, still looking out the window rather than turning to face him.  Scott hadn’t expected him to.  “You can go back.”

Scott let out a wry chuckle.  “The hot topic right now seems to be how eligible a bachelor I am,” he said, leaning forwards on his knees and watching his brother out of the corner of his eye.  “If you don’t mind, I think I’d quite like to stay here until they move on to other things.”

His brother let out a hmm, sounding thoroughly amused at that, and Scott rolled his eyes.  He knew full well that John was more than happy for him to be the target of that particular type of conversation, because it meant most of them would forget to ask him the same questions.  Sibling solidarity only went so far, and perhaps even more so than the rest of his brothers, John was all too willing to throw him under the bus to evade the limelight himself.

“If they follow you here, I am leaving,” John threatened mildly.  “And then you will not be welcome to follow me.”  It wasn’t an empty threat, but that didn’t matter because Scott would always use himself as bait if it meant a brother could escape a bad situation.  Besides, John knew Lady Penelope’s manor far better than he did, and Scott knew if John really wanted to hide, even he wouldn’t be able to find him until the ginger was ready to be found.

It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.  John had never been a fan of social situations and had mastered the art of disappearing young.  Scott had many memories of running around frantically, trying in vain to find where his brother had got to after taking his eye off of him for two seconds.  For someone with such vibrant natural colouring, John was unfairly good at the vanishing act.

He sighed and settled back against the window pane more comfortably.  At least John was old enough now to look after himself if he did vanish, and would always come home eventually - even if it was only a necessary stop on his way back to Thunderbird Five and the stars while he recuperated from socialising.  It was a marked improvement from when he’d vanish as a child and leave everyone in a panic until he reappeared hours later.

Scott had never quite shaken the instinct to panic when he vanished, no matter how old and self-sufficient his brother was now.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” John said suddenly, and Scott glanced up at him again.  He was still watching the rain out the window, seemingly disinterested in paying any attention to his older brother - aside from the comment, which made it perfectly clear that John was, in fact, keeping track of him with at least part of that big brain of his.  “I told you I’m fine.”

“I know you are,” he assured him, feeling the cool of the glass seep towards his scalp from where he was resting his head against the window.

John gave a considering hum.  “In that case, I’ll assume you’re working yourself into a panic unnecessarily.”

Scott huffed, unwilling to concede the point.  “I am not working myself into a panic,” he retorted, a little defensively.

His brother finally turned his head away from the window slightly, enough for one turquoise eye to come into view.  The accompanying ginger eyebrow rose in challenging disbelief and Scott scowled in response.

“I was just thinking about all the vanishing acts you tend to pull at things like this,” he admitted after a moment.  The visible turquoise eye rolled at him before John turned back to face the window.  He didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t need to; his body language broadcasted perfectly well that he thought Scott was being an idiot.

Scott was used to that attitude - none of his brothers ever seemed to fully appreciate what it was like to be their big brother, after all.  Gordon might proudly claim that his grey hairs were all down to his fish of a brother, but the truth of the matter was that they’d all contributed.

Still, Scott wouldn’t change any of them for the world.

Raindrops raced down the large window, merging and lingering and swallowing smaller ones before darting several inches further down in a blink of an eye.  It was a mesmerising sight; no wonder John was so captivated by the weather.

Then again, he didn’t get rain in space.

Scott was on his feet before his mind caught up.  His movement caught John’s attention, judging by the way the single, turquoise eye reappeared to regard him once more.

“Going back already?” his brother asked.  “I thought you were hiding from the discussions about your eligible bachelorship.”  There was no sympathy at all in John’s voice, just an undercurrent of amusement.  Scott suspected he wouldn’t be hearing the end of it for a while.

“No,” he said truthfully, which was apparently unexpected enough for John to look away from the window completely.

“Then where are you going?” his brother asked.  John was normally far too perceptive for Scott’s liking, and he probably shouldn’t be relishing catching him out as much as he was.

“Come on,” Scott invited in answer, tilting his head towards the window.  “Let’s go.”

John glanced back towards the window, raising an eyebrow at the rain still falling.  “You want to go outside?”

“Why not?” Scott shrugged.  “No-one’s going to chase us out there.”

“Because their clothes would get ruined,” John pointed out.  “Like ours will.”

Scott rolled his eyes.  He wasn’t so attached to the suit he was currently wearing that he’d mourn the loss, and he knew John felt similarly about his own formal clothes.

“They’re replaceable,” he pointed out.  “So, are you coming?”

John’s arguments didn’t fool him one bit - one thing his brother truly missed when he was amongst the stars was the cool sensation of rain on his skin, and Scott suspected that the only reason he’d been sat in the bay window instead of somewhere in the Creighton-Ward’s impressive grounds was because he’d known Scott would come looking for him sooner or later, and would have panicked if he couldn’t find him.

Sure enough, with one last sigh that was entirely put-upon, John extended his long legs and made his way to his feet.  “Lead the way.”

Scott wasn’t as familiar with the manor as his brother, but he had a pretty good idea where most of the external doors were.  John stayed at his shoulder as they passed through the hallways, bereft of any of the other guests, who were all no doubt still gossiping in the ballroom, and found a door that led outside.

The rain wasn’t a monsoon, but it was steady, leaving the sky heavy and grey, and misting out the trees on the far edge of the lawn.  Scott lingered in the threshold of the door for a moment, watching the weather, but his brother had no such hesitation.

A little brother he might be, but John had never needed Scott to lead the way.  With the assurance that Scott now knew where he was, and wouldn’t be hunting him down frantically, he strode out past him, the fabric covering his shoulder just brushing Scott’s, and out into the rain.

Scott lingered a moment longer, watching the way John tilted his face up slightly to greet the rain, the ginger curl of his bangs losing some of its volume as it dampened.  John didn’t beam like their brothers when he was happy, but there was a relaxation in his face and a draining of tension in his body that told Scott that he’d got it right.  John really had wanted to go out in the rain.

When his brother’s vibrant eyes slid closed, he took the final step outside himself, feeling the cool raindrops caressing his own skin and seeping into his hair.  His hair gel was going to wash out if he stayed out here for too long, but that was a small price to pay to see John enjoying himself down on Earth.

So was the suit.  The already black fabric of his jacket darkened even further with water almost immediately, and he knew that by the time John was ready to go inside again, it would be completely ruined.  As he’d said to his brother, though, the suits were replaceable.

John’s happiness was not.  Scott would ruin a hundred jackets if it meant seeing John so relaxed and content.

Jacketless, his brother’s shirt was quickly becoming soaked through, the white material clinging to his body - the same way his vibrant hair was starting to plaster to his scalp - gaining hints of translucency, and the thought crossed Scott’s mind that he’d have to make sure John didn’t get sick later.  The astronaut didn’t seem to care about that, though, standing stock still for several minutes with his hands loosely hanging by his side and his face tilted upwards.

Scott hung back, several paces away but still outside in the rain himself.  Cool droplets trickled down the back of his neck, originating somewhere around his hairline, and he could tell even without raising a hand to check that his own hair was plastering itself to his scalp in much the same way as John’s.  One droplet ran down from his forehead and caught the corner of his eye, tangled up in eyelashes, and Scott blinked twice to clear it.  Reluctantly it got the message and carried on down his face, running over his cheek and trailing down towards his chin.

They didn’t get rain like this at home.  English rain was strange, and definitely nothing like the tropical rains Tracy Island witnessed.  Even Kansas weather had been different to this.  The water was cool and refreshing on his skin, and after several moments Scott took another couple of steps forwards, towards his brother.

He didn’t enter his personal space, though.  If John wanted him there, he would make it clear - most likely by moving himself until he was within arm’s reach of Scott.  As they’d come out here to escape the crowds, however, Scott deemed that unlikely.  Instead, he wandered past him, away from the manor and large ballroom windows.  If the wrong person looked out and saw them, their little rainy peace would be broken by someone else who cared less for their clothes than chasing Tracys.

Scott made sure to keep John in view, not prepared to hunt his brother down if the ginger pulled another disappearing act, even as he found a lone tree standing proud in the middle of the manicured lawn and slipped around it, allowing the trunk to conceal him from anyone glancing outside.

Exactly what type of tree it was, he didn’t know, but it was large and broad, boughs extending out above his head and providing a meagre shelter from the rain.  It was the same as the trees that made up the woodland at the far edge of the lawn - also large and proud, but with enough space between some of them to hide a Thunderbird.  His own ‘bird lurked inside, concealed from view and waiting to carry the two of them back home the next morning.

Tonight, Lady Penelope had insisted, they would stay with her, and Scott had no reason to decline.  He did, however, hope that it was an invitation that hadn’t been extended to any of the other guests.  Evading their apparent fixation with his marriage status - or lack thereof - was not something he wanted to have to spend all night and breakfast doing as well.

No matter how amused John might be at the whole affair.

Speaking of John, his brother appeared to have noticed that he’d moved, because he’d opened his eyes and started moving forwards himself.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one hiding from the party,” the ginger commented, his voice dry and at odds with the wet shirt he was wearing.  The white had gone well and truly translucent now, clinging to his body in a way that Scott knew from experience would get John hounded by half the party the next time they saw him.

He made a mental note to sacrifice his jacket in John’s direction before they went back in.  It wouldn’t be a perfect fit, but it would at least keep the attention off of him long enough for John to scrounge up a change of clothes.

“Yeah, well,” he replied, shrugging.  “It wouldn’t matter which of us was hiding if they spotted the other, would it?”

John let out a small chuckle in response, rounding the tree in its entirety and therefore putting himself out of sight as well.  “Are you sure it’s not just because you don’t want them badgering you about being single?”

He huffed in response, crossing his arms and leaning back against the trunk.  The bark rubbed against the back of his jacket, but he ignored it.  The rain had already done enough damage - what was a little more?

“My relationship status is none of their business,” he grumbled, shooting his younger brother a considering look.  “Wait until they start on you.”

The smirk he got in return didn’t make him feel any better.

“They won’t give me a second glance while you’re around, big brother,” John pointed out with the air of someone who knew exactly what was up, and was quietly smug about it.  “No-one’s interested in the spare Tracy.”

Scott rolled his eyes.  “You know, technically you’re my heir,” he reminded him.  It did nothing to douse the smug smirk his brother was sending his way.

“They don’t think like that,” John shrugged confidently.  He was still out from underneath the protection of the boughs, rain falling on his skin and leaving trails of water across it.  Scott watched a raindrop run right to the tip of his nose and hang there; the astronaut didn’t even seem to notice, even though it made Scott’s own nose twitch empathetically.  “The only heirs they’re interested in are the unborn ones you don’t have because you’re still an eligible bachelor.”

Urgh.  Scott pulled a face.  “Did you have to put it like that?”

John’s ongoing smirk confirmed that yes, he did have to phrase it like that.  Little brothers - who wanted them?

Scott refused to give John any satisfaction by saying that out loud, although he suspected that didn’t actually matter.  If there was anyone who had mastered the art of mind-reading, Scott would put John right at the top of the suspect list.

“Well,” John said after a moment, shifting his weight.  “I’m going to go for a walk.  Are you coming, or would you rather hide under the tree?”

“I’m sheltering,” Scott corrected.  John made an uh huh noise in the back of his throat which he purposefully ignored.  Still, if John was offering company, instead of retreating into his own personal space, then Scott wasn’t going to turn that down.  The problem with John living in space was that he just didn’t get to see this particular little brother in person as much as he’d like.

He pushed off from the tree, straightening up and shoving his hands in his pockets as he took the couple of short steps back out into the rain.  John hadn’t bothered to wait for him, and he had to jog a couple more paces before he was at his brother’s side.

It felt like the rain had got heavier, but the droplets were still cool and refreshing on his face, even if he could feel his hair wilting under the weight.  Beside him, John’s hair had all but lost its usual curl, vibrant strands of ginger instead plastered to his forehead.  His brother didn’t seem to care at all.

Despite inviting him along, John didn’t seem particularly inclined towards conversation as he picked his way across the expansive grounds of the Creighton-Ward manor.  It was clear that this was far from his brother’s first time doing so; while Scott started getting a little turned around by all the identically pruned bushes and perfect flowerbeds, John continued unerringly as though it was his ridiculously large garden.

Not that Scott could really comment on the size of the Creighton-Ward estate when his own home consisted of an entire volcano.  Both the ranch and the Kansas farm spanned equally large acreage; the Tracys had never been a stranger to calling huge swathes of land home.

John had easily spent enough time in this manor during his Oxford days to have the entire estate mapped out in that impressive brain of his.  Scott resolved to never play hide and seek with him here.

The silence that hung between them was a comfortable one.  On some levels, it was more touching and heartfelt than if John had wanted to talk - John was a huge fan of personal space, and being invited to share it, trusted to share it, when he had so clearly hit his socialising quota already was akin to an honour.

Rain continued to fall, Scott’s jacket feeling more and more sodden by the minute, but John never headed for anything remotely resembling shelter.  The weather wasn’t particularly warm, either.  By English standards it might have been passable, but being used to the tropics meant that Scott found it decidedly on the cool side.

John seemed unaffected, but then again John spent most of his time in a rigidly controlled environment and hated the heat.  Scott still hoped he’d be able to persuade Parker to get them both a hot drink when they re-entered the manor building.  Then again, he wouldn’t put it past the older man to bundle them straight to their rooms with layers of blankets and disapproving mumbles.  The former crook liked to pretend he was as tough as nails - and in some respects he was - but he was also quick to fuss over the few friends he had.

Being counted amongst that number was almost as high an honour as being invited to share John’s personal bubble.

Sunbeams poked out from behind the grey clouds as they were strolling through one of several rose gardens - or maybe it was the same one and John had led them around in circles a few times.  In answer, the rain faded away into nothing and the world hung, heavy and still.  John stopped walking, and Scott followed suit.

Above them, the clouds were dispersing.  It seemed that the rain was over, at least for now, although the world around them shimmered a little like crystal as sun caught beads of water clinging to the flowers, the grass, the trees.  John glistened as well, his hair transformed into a burning halo as the sun caught the water plastering it to his scalp.

Hands in his pockets and face once again tilted to the sky, Scott’s little brother appeared to be considering something.  What, there was no point asking.  If John wanted him to be part of the decision making process, he’d say so.  Scott suspected he was debating if he wanted to stay outside or duck inside the manor to escape the reappearing sun.

John missed the rain on Thunderbird Five.  He did not miss the sunburn.

Sure enough, after a moment his brother turned to face him.

“I’m heading back inside,” John said.  “Are you done hiding from your eligible bachelorness yet or are you going to stay out here?”

Scott huffed at him, narrowing his eyes in displeasure at the jab.  John really wasn’t going to be letting that go any time soon.

“They’ll have moved topics by now,” he replied, a lot more confidently than he felt.  In all honesty, he had no idea how long it would be the hot topic for, but if he stayed out later than John he’d never live it down.

“That topic won’t be dropped until you’re married with kids,” his brother pointed out.  Scott scowled.  “But if you’re sure you’re ready to go back in…”  He trailed off meaningfully and, without waiting for Scott, started striding back towards the manor.

Not wanting to let his brother out of his sight, and maybe a little unsure of the paths back, Scott lengthened his stride to catch up with him again.  Turquoise eyes glanced sideways at him, and John’s face settled into subtle amusement.

Scott decided it was best for his pride if he didn’t ask what was funny.

He glanced up at the sky as they walked.  The shimmer of moisture in the air was fading as the sun grew stronger and the clouds continued on their merry way to deposit rain on some other part of the English countryside.  It wouldn’t be raining again just yet.

His foot caught something hard and he stumbled.  Instantly a vice-like grip appeared on his arm, yanking him back upright and steadying him.

“And you call me the clumsy one,” John commented lightly.  “Watch where you’re walking.”

Scott glared down at the flowerbed border he’d apparently walked into before switching targets to his brother.  John, as always, seemed completely unperturbed at the look.  Turquoise eyes looked him up and down, clearly making sure he hadn’t somehow hurt himself with his stumble, before the grip on his arm vanished and John continued down the path.

Sending another glare at the border, Scott followed.

Being behind John quickly brought back the reason why he’d been checking the sky.  While the rain had stopped, the white shirt his brother was wearing was still very soaked through, with the consequences of that on full display.  Scott shrugged out of his own, soaking wet, jacket.

“John,” he called, lengthening his strides to catch up.  His brother paused and turned back to look at him quizzically, jumping as Scott draped the waterlogged jacket over his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” the astronaut asked, making to shrug the fabric off.  “Carry your own jacket, Scott.”

Scott caught the fabric before it could fall to the ground.  “John, you’re wearing a white shirt.”

A single eyebrow raised.  “Your observational skills are unparalleled.”

Little brothers.  Scott huffed.  “And yours are lacking,” he retorted.  “You wore a white shirt in the rain.”

John looked at him, puzzled, for a moment, before comprehension dawned across his face.  A quick glance down had his pale skin reddening slightly.

“Oh.”

Scott shook his head fondly and draped the jacket around his brother’s shoulders again.  This time it was gratefully accepted.  They weren’t quite the same size, but Scott’s shoulders were the broader of the two, so while the fabric bunched a little oddly when John threaded his arms through the sleeves and fumbled the buttons until it was concealing as much of the wet white shirt as possible, it did at least fit.  Scott was grateful it wasn’t Virgil.

“You might want to go and get changed into something dry,” he suggested.  “Get out of those clothes.”

“I didn’t bring a spare suit,” John reminded him.  “I don’t have anything else with me suitable for Lady P’s party.”

Scott rolled his eyes and started walking again.  “Then just don’t come back to the party,” he said bluntly.  “That’s not exactly a tragedy for you.  You can see Lady Penelope again once it’s over - she won’t care what you’re wearing.”

“She will care,” John corrected, catching up to him.  “She’ll judge my outfit and everything.”  Despite the words being ones of apparent complaint, he didn’t actually seem that bothered about it.  Then again, he had survived going to university with the woman.  Their friendship was on a completely different level compared to the one the rest of the Tracys shared with her.

“Just go and get yourself out of those wet clothes and make yourself comfortable for the rest of the evening,” Scott sighed.  “I’ll make your excuses.”

“If I need to get changed, why don’t you?” John challenged.  Scott grinned at him and tapped his own shirt.

“Not white,” he pointed out.  Well, admittedly, he would call it white, but according to Virgil it was cream, and according to the weather that combined with the covering jacket meant that it hadn’t gone the same way as John’s white shirt.  “Ergo, still appropriate for polite company.”

John scrutinised him for several moments as they walked, as though he was trying to find an excuse why Scott’s outfit wasn’t appropriate any more.

“You’ll get sick if you stay in wet clothes too long,” he said eventually.  “Make sure you come up and get changed soon.”

“I don’t have a spare suit, either,” Scott admitted.  “I’ll be fine.”  It couldn’t be that many more hours before the end of the party, surely…

“If you’re not up in half an hour I’m sending Parker to extract you,” John said firmly.  “Virgil will have both our hides if you go home sick.”

“Half an hour?” Scott repeated.  “I’ll be lucky to talk to Lady Penelope by then.  You’ll have to give me longer than that.”  There was no point telling John not to enlist Parker at all - his brother would hum non-committedly then do it anyway the instant he was out of earshot.

John scoffed.  “You’ll find a way,” he said confidently.  “Just flirt your way through the crowds like you normally do.  Half an hour, then Parker will get involved.”

They’d arrived back at the manor itself, and John sent him one last smug grin before vanishing up what had to be a servant’s staircase before Scott could try another attempt to bargain for more time.  With a quiet groan, Scott adjusted his damp tie and headed back towards the ballroom.

His wet - and likely bedraggled - appearance caused a stir when he re-entered the room.  Conversations stopped, eyes stared, and then the whispering started.  Well, he’d take them talking about him over attempts to restart the conversations about his relationship status.

He scanned the room for the tell-tale flash of pink, locating Lady Penelope just before she came to a stop in front of him.

“I was under the impression you were looking for John, not trying to impersonate a drowned rat,” the Lady commented lightly.  “You also appear to have misplaced your jacket, Scott.”

He shrugged lazily.  “John wanted to go outside.”

“I see.”  From the fond look that flickered in her eyes, she probably did get it.  The British aristocrat was the closest thing John had to a best friend, after all.  “And where is John now?”

“Retiring for the evening,” Scott explained.  “Or at least until the party’s over and the stars are out.”

Lady Penelope laughed a little at that.  “I shouldn’t be surprised,” she agreed.  “And what about you?  I notice today’s main topic of discussion isn’t to your liking.”  There was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that was entirely too similar to John’s reaction.

Scott decided the best thing to do was ignore it.

“I should get changed,” he admitted.  “I’ll see you after the party’s over?”

“I dare say you should,” Lady Penelope agreed, “before you turn my ballroom into a swimming pool.  Very well, I’ll see you boys later.”  She turned away, and immediately got caught in another conversation with a guest.

Scott took the opportunity to duck back out of the room, evading anyone who might want to corner him for further conversations that he really didn’t care for.

Parker was standing just outside the door.

“Ah, there you h’are,” the butler said as Scott narrowly avoided walking into him.  “h’I h’understand you’re done for the h’evening?”

Scott checked his watch.  “There’s no way it’s been half an hour already,” he said suspiciously.

“‘alf h’an hour since when?” Parker asked innocently.  “Master John said nothing h’about h’a time limit.”  No, of course John didn’t.  Pesky little brother.  “Well, h’as you h’appear to be trying to turn h’into a drowned rat, h’I’d say you need a nice warm drink h’and a change h’of clothes.”

“That’s the plan,” Scott admitted.  “I’ll see you later, Parker.”

“That you will,” the older man agreed, and Scott paused with his foot on the bottom step of the staircase.  “h’I’ll be bringing h’up some ‘ot chocolate for the pair h’of you in a few minutes.  ‘Onestly, what were you thinking, going h’out h’in the rain like that?”

Scott shrugged.  “John wanted to,” he said, before resuming his ascent of the staircase, knowing that Parker would make good on his promise and be up soon with the drinks.

The Creighton-Ward manor was huge, and the guest suites were equally so.  There was no sharing of bedrooms when they stayed overnight, but as Scott entered the room designated as his, he discovered a brother lounging on his bed, tablet in hand.  Ginger hair was ruffled and sticking up all over the place - a clear victim of a towel drying - and the soaked suit had been replaced by a much less formal shirt and jeans.

“Don’t you have your own room?” he asked, not breaking his stride as he headed for his overnight bag and pulled out a change of clothes.

“Parker’s bringing the drinks here,” John replied, not looking up from whatever it was he was reading.  “It makes more sense for me to be here.”  Scott huffed and worked his tie loose from around his neck.

“You just wanted to make sure I didn’t stay in the party,” he accused.

John didn’t deny it, and Scott rolled his eyes before heading into the ensuite to dry off and get changed into his more casual clothes.  No more formal suit and tie for him tonight.

When he re-emerged several minutes later, his own hair rivalling John’s for towel-dried mess and begging for another round of brushing and hair gel, Parker had arrived with the promised steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

“Drink up, the both of you,” the man demanded.  “Going h’out in the rain like that, I h’ask you.”  He shook his head despairingly.  “What will your Gran say h’if you go and get yourself sick?”

“We won’t get sick, Parker,” Scott said confidently, accepting his mug and letting the warmth seep from the ceramic into his fingers.  “We didn’t get that wet.”

“Don’t h’underestimate the English weather,” Parker warned.  “Drink that h’up and wrap h’up warm.”

John appeared silently at his elbow and claimed his own mug before retreating back to the bed.  Scott watched him burrow his bare feet under the covers and huffed.

“That’s my bed, you know,” he complained.  John lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“So?”

“So, leave some room for me.”  Mug in hand, Scott settled himself next to his brother, nudging him over gently.  John obliged, and after a few moments of shifting around, the pair of them were sat shoulder to shoulder with their feet under the covers.

Parker eyed them approvingly, and then tossed a blanket over their laps as well.

“h’I’ll be back once the party’s h’over,” he told them.  “Keep warm.”

“We’ll be fine,” Scott assured him.  “You don’t need to worry about us.”

Blue eyes surveyed him suspiciously.  “h’I know some people that’d disagree with that h’assessment, Mr Scott.  But duty calls, h’I suppose.”

Parker was clearly reluctant to leave them for some reason, but he did begrudgingly go out the door, shutting it behind him and leaving the two brothers to their drinks.

The hot chocolate was, unsurprisingly, good, and Scott found himself draining the mug in record time.  Beside him, John was almost as fast, and they set the mugs down on the bedside tables almost in unison.

“Parker makes the best hot chocolate,” John commented, and Scott couldn’t help but agree.

“He does,” he agreed.  “I could go for another.”

“Well, then, I’m glad I finished mine before you got it into your head to steal it,” John said dryly.  “You can ask him for another one later.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.  “I might do that.  This might all be overkill-” he gestured at the warm mugs and the blanket, subtly tucking them in the bed “-but even if we’re not going to get sick, that chocolate is worth it.”

The sneeze came out of nowhere.  As did the second, and the third.

The fourth sneeze came from his brother, and Scott glanced over at him with a sinking feeling.  Bright turquoise met his eyes, and John gave a wane smile before sneezing again.

“I think,” his brother said, before being interrupted by another sneeze, “that maybe this wasn’t so overkill after all.”

Scott buried his face in his hands.  It did nothing to stop the next sneeze, and he groaned.

“You might be right,” he admitted.  “Dammit.  Virgil’s going to- achoo -kill us.”

John groaned.

[whatgaviiformes]

From CG29’s fluff prompt list. No. 55: moonlight.

With Alan (again) 😘

You got it! Some John and Alan, Space!Bros for you. I hope you like.

Houdini's Moon

He hadn’t expected it to be cold. I mean come on; it was summer. He’d been swimming with Gordon just earlier today. Hot summer days though turned into cool nights (that’s the way the sun and the moon worked after all), and the long sleeves of Alan’s pajama shirt weren’t enough to keep out the crisp bite of the nightly breeze. They were once Virgil’s pjs - and Scott’s before him - the graphic on the striped tee shirt revealing a little swooping plane in the corner of the breast pocket.

Alan could feel the goosebumps prickling under the soft material, and he shivered despite himself, telling himself it was from excitement. He absolutely did not have the chills. No way.

Even still, he wrapped his arms around his legs, shifting as the shingles dug in awkwardly where he sat on the rooftop of his family’s Kansas farm, while around him the chirps of the katydids and crickets welcomed the stars.

The moon’s glow blanketed the grasses and long wheat stalks of their farmland, which was far enough from the electric buzz of the town center, that Alan’s eyes had taken a while to accommodate the low light.

But he hadn’t been looking over their fields.

Alan, like his father, looked up.

It was strange to think about a time before space flight, before they had ever landed on the moon, to see his father’s name in his history textbooks. He wondered if he would ever do anything cool enough to land himself as a “harbinger of the space renaissance” or whatever phrase they’d used to describe his father’s mission. Renaissance was a big word, and he was only eight after all.

Harbinger was a big word too, now that he thought about it. But he’d known the word harbinger for a long time. Scott called him and Gordon the harbingers of chaos all the time (and he secretly loved it, as if it gave him permission to be the mischief-maker he was born to be).

An owl laughed at him. Hoo Hoo.

I’m Alan Tracy, Mr. Owl. And don’t you forget it. He smiled and waited, yawning.

Waiting was the hard part. But he could be patient for her, for the moon. She was supposed to put on a show tonight. He felt the buzz of excitement under his skin, even as he struggled to keep his eyes open the more Lady Luna rose in the sky.

God, Scott would get so mad at him for being on the roof. And way passed his bedtime at that.

And what if it had all been for nothing?

What if he’d gotten the date wrong? Or if it didn’t really happen at all?

God. What if the disappearing moon was a myth?

If he left now, he could slip back in through his window and Scott would be none the wiser. And yet – what if it wasn’t a myth? What if the moment he left she performed her magic trick?

He couldn’t miss it. He just couldn’t. Even as his fears poked holes in the plans he’d been so sure of early this evening, the moon herself called to him, and he couldn’t avert his gaze now if he tried.

“Alan?” A shuffling and the quiet call of his name told him he’d been caught.

“John?”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to startle you,” the older boy whispered. “What are you doing out here?”

Alan shrugged, not sure if John could see the movement.

John carefully stepped over roof shingles like he’d been doing it his whole life, settling into position a few feet away from Alan where the roof wasn’t as steep. “Do you want to maybe come over here where it’s safer, Sprout?” He asked, holding out a hand to help Alan over the awkward angle of the roof.

Alan knew it wasn’t a question but appreciated it all the same. “Sure.”

The bones in his back ached as he stood. He stepped gingerly towards his brother and accepted the hand as soon as it was within range.

John pulled him to his chest, and, oh man, was that John hugging him?

“John?” his cry was absorbed into the NASA sweatshirt John wore to bed too many times, and which gave him a sore neck from the hood in the mornings.

“Sorry, Sprout,” he said, leaving a hand on his shoulder. “You were a little close to the edge out there. And it looked like you were falling asleep. What are you doing awake?” He asked again. “Were you – did you want to see the eclipse?”

Alan nodded. So it was real!

The dash of surprise flashed across John’s face and fell away just as quickly. They both sat, and the blanket he brought to use as a cushion, he instead draped around his and Alan’s shoulders, having felt the shiver under his hands.

“How long have you been out here?”

Alan shrugged. He truly didn’t know.

“All night?”

“I wasn’t sure when it would happen,” he admitted. He wasn’t sure if it would happen, but he couldn’t tell John that. John knew everything there was to know about space. Alan would be so embarrassed if John found out he’d doubted the truth of the eclipse, even for a moment.

“You could’ve asked me. You definitely could’ve gotten some sleep in.”

“Well, you could’ve told me it was happening!” He was not quite sure where the fire came from, but he was suddenly angry, blaming John for his intrusive doubts. If he’d just talked about it… “Why did I have to find out from school?”

Alan felt John’s form next to him stiffen, and the silence rang in his ears. He hated when John did that, answering questions with quiet. It was almost like he’d never actually respo –

“I am not sure, truthfully, Alan,” John mused. “I think everyone’s just grown out of coming out to watch the stars with me, and so I’ve just stopped mentioning it.”

“Well, you can mention it to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The eclipse is a big deal, right?”

“Yes, it is!” John enthused, his eyes shining bright in the starlight as he started explaining to Alan about how the celestial bodies danced around each other, and how when everything aligned in the right way, their shadows cast magic to the eyes of those watched.

Hearing his older brother talk about it was better than any teacher Alan had ever had, his passion more robust than any picture book describing umbras and penumbras. And apparently the moon would turn as orange as the harvest when in full shadow, which was just… he couldn’t wait to see it.

It had been a long time, Alan realized, since John had gotten a chance to share this with anyone. He felt the hum of the moon under his skin again, even as John gasped beside him.

Then Alan saw it too: the first sliver of darkness.

“Scotty’s going to kill us both,” John laughed. Beneath the blanket, he swung his arm around Alan’s shoulders and pulled him close as the sky stole the moon, and then gave her back.

[tracybirds]

I can officially switch the status of Being Known from “stuck” to “WIP” again :) It’s been over a year since the last update for various reasons but I’m very excited to go back to this one and provide a new chapter!

For those new to the story, this was prompted by @kenzie-running-free in March 2020 and slightly got out of hand 😅 I’ve never stopped thinking about it and I bit the bullet and deleted the entirety of Chapter Four a few days ago and let myself rewrite it from scratch.... and it WORKED!!! (use technique with caution... scariest thing I’ve ever done.....)

Anyway...

A ‘what-if’ story based on “The Man From TB5” where the Hood recognized John in the scene when he makes himself known (instead of John stuttering).... and then he gets kidnapped :)

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3]

-----------

Darkness bled into John’s line of vision and he scrubbed desperately at his aching eyes. Time collapsed around him as he worked, the abruptly extinguished bulb the only hint of night. And every new day seemed to bring new weariness as he jolted awake by the sudden onslaught of light which interrupted the deepest part of sleep.

Just another tactic to keep him from gathering his wits together.

This morning, if it was morning, the brightly burning bulb was coupled with the scraping sound of a breakfast tray being shoved through the small slot that had been crudely and hastily carved in the door after he’d lain in wait and brought the tray down over one of the guard’s head. He’d left the man stunned on the floor and made it all the way to the end of the corridor before another guard had grabbed him from behind and thrown him bodily back into the room.

He’d woken to security footage of a fire ravaging a building, his own family on screen.

“They’re not looking for you,” sneered the Hood as he swept from the room.

No guards came in anymore.

Two days later, he’d been savagely poked in the eye when he’d tried to look through the new slot that had been hastily added to his door.

He spent hours every day, searching for a way to send out a message, or even create another receiver. Any link to the outside world would do. But it soon became apparent that the Hood had done one thing right in giving him access to an isolated system, keeping the holomonitor he’d been provided with separate even from his own devices.

One thing right among many.

John peered at the screen with his good eye, wincing at the torn skin that pulled over bruised muscle. His head spun as he stared at the endless commands, trying to replicate the spark of life no-one had ever found before EOS.

Not even him.

And that was the rub of it all.

John didn’t know, not after all his time studying EOS and her abilities, just how she’d been born of code and logical absolutes. How she could grow and change and evaluate her own mind in a way that not only seemed human, but was unquestionably so.

He glanced at the clock he’d created from scratch, counting the oscillations in the electrical current and spitting back a digital time at him. This ‘morning’ truly did correspond with the morning, and that meant the Hood would be paying him a visit for an update.

He wasn’t sure how much more time he could stall for until things got truly desperate.

How much time he had until he had to conclude that he was truly on his own.

*                            *                            *

“Scott, the floor’s unstable there!”

“I know what I’m doing, Alan.”

“Yes, but I have the numbers,” Alan replied, his voice cracking as he spoke. He spun the holo in his hands, checking and double checking the analysis that was running under his fingertips.

“Then the numbers are wrong.”

“They can’t be!”

“Alan,” said Scott, patiently. “I need you to check the parameters over again. I’m seeing two trapped vehicles, with no sign of ground stress, both much larger than me and more importantly containing passengers. I need to get them out of there.”

“Yes, but hang on–”

“There’s no time!”

Alan watched in horror as his big brother barrelled forwards. He crouched low as he ran, grabbing at nearby pylons for support. The ground heaved beneath his feet, but still Scott moved forwards steady and sure. Always with his eyes on the scared little boy in the back seat and a gentle smile on his face.

An alert ticked over into the red.

“Jump, Scott!” he yelled, watching the model floor cave in a split second before a real sinkhole opened beneath Scott’s feet.

“Alan, what’s happening up there?” came Virgil’s urgent voice, bound for home with Gordon from their own rescue.

Alan flipped the channel, realising in his hurry he’d accidentally broadcast his message to everyone.

“He’s fine,” he said, eyes still wide as he watched Scott shakily stand on the other side of the chasm. “The floor went.”

“What?”

“He’s fine, he’s fine!”

“Didn’t you run the simulation?”

“I did,” said Alan, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. “He wouldn’t listen.”

Silence fell over the space station.

“Hey Alan, can you pilot Thunderbird One over to us? Got my hands full here.”

Scott’s voice rang out loud and clear. Five clear thermal images were standing around him, including one in his arms.

Alan fumbled for the call button.

“F.A.B. Scott.”

“I’ll talk to him, Alan,” said Virgil. His eyes were focused beyond him, but Alan could read the quiet fury beneath the clear focus on his own piloting.

“I can’t do it, Virgil,” whispered Alan. “I must have done something wrong, there must have been something he could see that I couldn’t.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” interrupted Virgil.

“He never would have done this to…”

Alan’s voice failed him.

Twenty-two thousand miles below, Virgil choked back his own distress. Gordon was chewing at his lip, staring anxiously at Alan. He leaned forward so he was in view of the holo.

“Hey, Allie,” he said. “John’s gonna be okay. And he’ll be giving Scott hell for ignoring the modelling like that soon enough.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Absolutely, I do,” said Gordon, cracking a grin. “No way, John would let Scott get away with that crap. Not even if he had to haunt him for the rest of his life in ghostly fury to do it.”

“Is he wrapping up now?” asked Virgil, eyes still pinched.

Alan looked down at the display.

“Yeah, he’s on his way home.”

“Right. EOS?”

“Virgil?” Her quiet voice was sullen and more than a little distracted.

“Got room in your processors for another task?”

EOS’s lights flashed suddenly, and Alan’s blood ran cold at the sight. Three weeks he’d been stationed on board Thunderbird Five and he still found himself walking on eggshells around EOS. Her frustration at turning up nothing in the holonet that could lead them closer to John morphed quickly from long, silent sulks to short outbursts of flying bagels and spinning gravity rings. He’d never forgotten the sight of John floating limply like a rag doll that had been torn apart one too many times by a playful, thoughtless, destructive child.

An angry EOS felt too close to losing his brother for good.

“Will it help, John?”

“It’ll keep his brother alive, and that will make it more likely for us to find him.”

“What can I do?”

“Lock Scott out of his controls, Order TB2-5711FR. Make sure Alan gets to Tracy Island before him. Redirect all calls to local authorities in the first instance, follow Protocol 24.”

“I’m not leaving,” argued Alan. “Don’t pull me from duty, I can do better.”

“No arguments.”

Alan wilted, knowing he had no choice but to follow Virgil’s instructions.

“This is done, Virgil,” said EOS, blankly.

“Thank you, EOS,” said Virgil, his manner still stiff and terse. He shifted his gaze from the open ocean in front of him to Alan, his expression softening. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Alan. If Scott takes his life into his own hands, that’s not on you. But we can’t have him in the field like that, cutting corners to get back to finding John. So, we need you down here in his place.”

“You can’t pull Scott,” said Alan, his eyes wide. “What would… well, what would Scott say?”

“We’re doing him a favour,” remarked Gordon with a sarcastic twist of his lips that made a mockery of his usual grin. “He wants to find John, we all do, but if he’s willing to risk lives and rescues to do it then he should put his energy into searching and we shouldn’t stop him.”

Alan swallowed, his eyes filling with tears that he angrily swiped away.

“Does he think we’re not looking just as hard?” he asked. “We haven’t forgotten him. Have we?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alan,” said Virgil, firmly. “John would have our heads before we put the possibility of finding him above the certainty of ignoring people who need our help.”

“So, we keep going out there,” agreed Gordon. “And when, when Allie, Kayo and Lady P and Parker find something, and they will, we’ll be right there without a moment to lose.”

“I just don’t want him to think we’ve forgotten him.”

“John’s too smart for that,” said Gordon. “Promise you, Allie.”

*                            *                            *

He’d worked it out. Every time he did something to anger the Hood, innocent people paid for it in blood. There was no point in harming him directly, not when what the Hood wanted was inside his mind, ripe for extraction. But his heart and spirit could be broken, as a video feed periodically forced itself over his work to make him watch. Earthquakes, landslides, tidal waves, anything that would get International Rescue on the scene and off his scent.

Senseless destruction and despair epidemic across the world because he couldn’t make an AI fast enough.

But senseless destruction that he could use.

There was no doubt in his mind that his family knew the natural disasters were anything but, he could see it in the determined fury in Scott’s face, in the tense draw of Virgil’s shoulders, in the sardonic mockery in Gordon’s smile as he quietly pocketed yet another piece of equipment.

He didn’t see Alan, and he thought of his baby brother up in space often. None of his brothers had any real idea of the full extent of his contribution, no matter how grateful they were for his guidance, and he hated to know Alan would be forced into that knowledge.

He also suspected that when Alan did spill the beans, he’d find his own rotations scrutinised with a lot more care.

Still, the limited glimpses of his brothers did nothing to discourage him, and he found himself contemplating a plan of escape well into the long, cold nights.

He needed more information.

He needed access to an external holonet connection. And the only way he’d get near one was with a working AI.

Or something that could pass for a few minutes as one.

[myhauntedsalem]

CAN CHILDREN SEE GHOSTS? 17 SPINE-CHILLING TRUE STORIES THAT PROVE THEY DO

Have you ever found your child talking to “someone” when they were alone in their room? Is it simply an active imagination or could it be a visitor from beyond the grave?

For most parents, when their child tells them about their new imaginary friend, they simply put it down to their child’s active imagination. Completely normal… right? Well, I wouldn’t be so sure. It’s a widely held belief that some children can see and connect with those who have passed on. A popular theory is that we’re all born with the ability to connect to the other side but, as we grow up and become more cynical and disbelieving of all things unknown, that ability disappears. The following chilling true tales of imaginary friends and unseen visitors in the dead of night might go some way in proving that our children can and do communicate with the dead.

Parents beware, you’ll be checking under the bed and in your closets after reading these horrifying supernatural encounters.

1. THE BELIEVER

I believe that there are happenings on this earth that cannot be logically explained. I’ve always been a little skeptical, but I didn’t completely denounce that ghosts exists.

However, I’m starting to think they are definitely real, and that little kids can see them.

Yesterday, Sunday, I volunteered to watch the little kids of my church while their parents were out volunteering. Our church meets in the community center, so that’s where I was watching the kids — one baby, and two 2-year-olds – a boy and a girl. And you are right, our church is not very big.

After the center cleared out, it was just me and one other volunteer. She had the baby in a side room, trying to put him down for a nap. I had the two-year-olds in the main room.

I had a “weird feeling” all day, and kept feeling like there was someone standing behind me, but chalked it up to being alone in the building. The kids and I were sitting on the floor and rolling a ball back and forth to one another when the boy asked if we could throw it instead. I said yes and we stood up. He ran towards me and threw the ball just out of my reach. It went behind me. I did not hear it bounce.

The kids looked at each other and started giggling. I whirled around and saw the ball suspended in midair for a split second before falling to the ground. The kids just kept laughing. They started pointing and saying what sounded like “the man! the man!”

That was all the “paranormal” that occurred yesterday. The kids didn’t say anything about “the man” for the rest of the day. It freaked me out, but I wasn’t scared. I just wanted to share.

2. IT WAS JUST A DREAM

My daughter used to tell me about a man who came into her room every night and put the sign of the cross on her forehead. I thought it was just a dream. Then my mother-in-law sent over some family photos. My daughter looked right at the picture of my husband’s father (who has been dead for 16 years) and said ‘That’s the man who comes into my room at night!’ My husband later told me his father would always do the sign of the cross on his forehead when he was young.

3. DADDY, WHO’S THAT MAN?

When my daughter was younger (maybe 2 1/2 years old) she slept in her crib in the room next to me and my wife. One night she was stirring and maybe a little frightened, so I went in to get her and brought her to our room. She was wide awake now in our bed and not scared at all now. She was looking wondrously at the foot of our bed saying “look at the lights, the sparkles….” Kind of playfully she kept mentioning “the lights”. Then she said “Daddy, who’s that man?” Pointing directly at the foot of our bed.

It was definitely unsettling.

We had bought the apartment from a very elderly couple who passed in the apartment a few months earlier. Probably never forget that.

4. THE CAPTAIN

A parent of one of my students told us in a meeting that she was concerned because her son (7 years old) talked about an invisible ghost who would talk to him and play with him in his room. He said the ghost was called The Captain and was an old white guy with a beard. The kid would tell his mom that The Captain told him when he grows up his job will be to kill people, and The Captain would tell him who needed to be killed. The kid would cry and say he doesn’t want to kill when he grows up, but The Captain tells him he doesn’t have a choice and he’ll get used to killing after a while.

I was always creeped out working with that student after that.

5. MY COUSIN TRACY

When my niece was about 4 she had an imaginary friend, which I don’t remember the name of. She would blame things she did on this imaginary friend but also talked about how this friend would watch Scooby Doo with her. One day I thought, why don’t I find out more about this friend. So I asked her to tell me about her friend. And she said, “She’s a she and she’s dead.” And I said okay, “Does she have a job?” and she said, “She does what my Daddy does!” Which is that her imaginary friend was a cop. Okay. So then I said, “Where is your imaginary friend a policewoman at?” and she said, “Right next to where my daddy is a policeman.” And I said okay. But then she said, “I met her when I was in my mummy’s belly. She touched me when I was inside.”

A few months before my niece was born my cousin Tracy had died. She was hit by a train. She loved watching Scooby Doo and had a ton of memorabilia. She was also a cop. She was a cop in the town that is right next to the one my brother-in-law is a cop in, my nieces “Daddy.” My niece’s imaginary friend was my dead cousin. There is no other way she could have known all that at the age of 4.

6. EMILY

when my sister was probably about 6 or 7, she had an imaginary friend named Emily. She told us Emily lived in her closet, wore an old black dress, and had long dark hair and she was the same age as my sister. My sister played with Emily constantly. My parents started noticing my sister acting weird. Just sitting in the middle of her room whispering to Emily quite a bit and acting a lot more distant towards them. I remember a very specific day, my brother was walking by her room and my sister was sitting in the middle of her room….but she turned around and hissed at him. He was scared shitless. He told me it didn’t even look like my sister. My parents ran up to her room and i could hear my sister just screaming and screaming as loud as she “Get out”.

I have no idea what happened in that room but I ran to the bottom of my stairs and the screaming stopped, I saw my parents holding my sister crying their eyes out, she was sobbing as well. I’ve asked her about it today. She’s 24 now. She told me that Emily used to tell her to do horrible things to herself. She actually used to wake up on the roof and not remember how she got there. I’m not kidding. Apparently, Emily absolutely hated my parents so she turned my sister against them. She hates talking about it so I never brought up that specific night. This all happened at my old house. When we moved into a different house, Emily was gone. I’m not making any of this up. My sister’s little friend was a really big deal to my family and messed things up for a long time. I’m just relieved we left that house.

I’m not making any of this up. My sister’s little friend was a really big deal to my family and messed things up for a long time. I’m just relieved we left that house.

7. JESSICA

A little after I was born, my sister Julia had an imaginary friend named Jessica. She was Julia’s friend for a long time, when things started to get a little weird. At first my parents shrugged it off as a normal occurrence, but after a while they began to believe that our house was haunted .One night as my parents put me (about one years old) to sleep, I begin to cry and point at the corner, my mom was still in there and began to try to comfort me, but I continued to cry and point at the same corner. All of the sudden, my sister walks into my room and points at the corner and yells “Jessica stop it!”

Immediately I stop crying and Julia says like it is completely normal that “Sometimes Jessica likes to put on scary masks and scare people”. My mom who was understandably freaked out stammers to my sister “Tell Jessica that if she can’t play nice, she can’t play here at all”.

A couple weeks go by and Julia tells my Mom that “Her eyes turn green when she is mad and her voice gets deeper”. My Mom didn’t know how to respond to this and just said “ok….”

Eventually Julia outgrows her “imaginary” friend and stops playing with her.

A year and a half later my little sister Abbey begins to talk, she then goes on to tell us about her friend that no one else can see. She then tells my mom about how her eyes turn green when she is upset. I remember this distinctly because she dropped a pan and it scared me. She asked Abbey what her name was and she said…

“Jessica.”

8. THE BOY IN THE TREE

My folks’ farm surrounds a cemetery, and my dad and my niece were walking down there. My niece (4) looks up and says “What’s that boy doing up in that tree?” There was no boy, but she insisted there was and could describe him.

9. YOU’RE DOING A GOOD JOB

My wife and I overheard my two-year-old daughter on the baby monitor wake up on Saturday morning and say “what? OK, I’ll tell her” then get up and come into our bedroom and told my wife “Mary says you’re doing a good job.”

Mary was her grandmother that she was extremely close too that passed away.

10. THE MAN IN THE DOORWAY

When my nephew was born, ten years ago now. Around age 2/3 He’d wake up in the middle of the night and when my sister and her fiance went to settle him down he’d be staring at the corner of the room, or at the open doorway saying there was a man standing there, that he came and talked to him at night. Sometimes he was scared, sometimes he was calm, but my sister was terrified!

11. MY FRIEND JOE

Not my kid, but something my mum said I did when I was little.

I had this imaginary friend named “Joe” – was pretty normal imaginary friend stuff to begin with, my parents would ask about him and I’d respond with something like “I like Joe” “He has curly black hair” “He likes to play outside” nothing interesting.

Until one day I come out with “Joe has to work a lot, but Joe’s boss doesn’t like him.” when asked why, I responded with “Oh, it’s because Joe’s black.” As if it was obvious. Now this wouldn’t have been weird at all if I hadn’t grown up in a very small all-white town. And I was about 3 years old, I didn’t know (or rather, hadn’t been taught) that racism was even a thing.

This continued on for a while, I’d mention Joe now and then, sometimes talking about what he did for fun, or his favorite things, other times mentioning that his boss hits him and shouts all the time.

After a few months, I go up to my mum one day and have a conversation that went something like this: “Joe’s really happy today. His boss isn’t coming back” ‘Why?’ “He’s dead” ‘Oh yeah? How did he die?’ “He hung himself from up there” (as I point up towards the attic door).

I don’t remember much of this, I definitely remember having an imaginary friend named Joe.

12. THE LITTLE GIRL

My grandfather had a camp on Lake Dering in NH when I was a kid. One day when I was 6 or so, I fell off of the dock and into the water. I couldn’t swim. While under, I distinctly remember seeing a little girl down there who told me to look up towards the sun and just keep kicking and I’d be fine. I swam to the surface just in time for my grandfather to swoop me up and pull me back on the dock.

And, yes, I found out later that a little girl drowned in the lake near that same spot (of course).

13. THE IMAGINARY FRIEND

When my daughter was three she had an imaginary friend named Kelly who lived in her closet. Kelly sat in a little rocking chair while she slept, played with her, etc. Typical imaginary friend shit. Anyway, fast forward two years later, the wife and I are watching the new Amityville (the one with Ryan Renolds) and our daughter walks out right when dead girl goes all black eyed. Far from being disturbed, she said “That looks like Kelly.” “Kelly who?” we say “You know the dead girl that lived in my closet.”

14. HER EYES WOULD FOLLOW IT

I had tons of experiences like this when my little girl was born a few years ago. From being just a few months old we noticed she’d randomly start looking over at something and giggling, like something was making her laugh. Her eyes would follow it around the room. And sometimes we’d feel like it was stood right next to us or behind us and then we’d noticed she was looking at it, or smiling in that direction. It never caused any problems though, in fact, when she was upset she’d look over at it and start laughing or smiling. And if we couldn’t find something we really needed, suddenly it’d appear right in front of us, when we knew we’d checked there a hundred times.

Stopped around the time she turned two.

15. PUNISHMENT

I was seventeen and babysitting a friend of the family’s six-year-old. he’d been in bed a couple of hours and I just peeked in to check on him. he wasn’t in the bed and when i opened the door wider, I saw he was standing in the corner, facing the wall. creepiest fucking thing ever. I asked him what he was doing and all he did was turn around, smile, and put his finger to his lips as if to say “shhh”. I asked him again what he was doing and all he says is, “leave us. It is the punishment.”

16. HE DOESN’T HAVE A FACE

My son from the age of three always tells me about the “creeper man” who lives in my mom and dads bedroom. He brings it up after he visits them. I made the mistake once of asking what he looks like. My son said “Oh, he doesn’t have a face.”

17. I WAS THE SAME

I tend to be skeptical also, even when I love reading about paranormal stuff, the only thing that has kind of freaked me out has been my nephew a couple of years ago when he was about 2 1/2 years old would talk to a man only he could see at my house and an old lady at his grandparents house.

My mother tells me I was the same, talking and playing with my grandfather for a few months after he died, I would call to him and hold conversations with him and even wish him good night before going to bed.

[doyelikehaggis]

it’s time for the dreaded s6 finale emotions

*strong regret in projecting onto ryan as much as i do because this episode h u r t s*

tyler being the one to invite ryan along?? g a e

“can’t send a man to his doom without getting drunk first” he’s trying so hard to fit in. poor bastard. and not calling the others out for excluding him? you can just tell he’s trying so hard not to ruin it for everyone, and nobody even gives a shit. and then of course he eventually snaps, he’s just spent over an hour having to watch everyone have a great time and forget about him, and then alex suddenly expects him to have bought mike a gift, and they fucking tell him to stop being so selfish and god those fucking assholes

god the conversation where may-li tells charlie about her grandad. it’s so beautifully acted, emily burnett sells the denial perfectly, it just,, ow

this episode is hard to watch when you have really strong empathy and project onto both ryan and charlie. h e l p

wow charlie really just delivered a baby in a car in the middle of the woods huh. i keep forgetting how absolutely badass that is

you know what absolutely kills me is the vague suicide subtext to ryan running away. take that goddamn phone conversation out of context and that’s what it is and that’s the worst part of all of this. and chloe saying that he’s left a note and that “i think he’s really gone for good”. o u c h

the fact that NOBODY EVEN NOTICES RYAN’S GONE EXCEPT MIKE AND CHLOE. even tyler doesn’t fucking notice. and then everyone cares more that mike’s gone to find him than that ryan even left in the first place. but we’re not meant to think about that because tracy’s here and everything’s absolutely fine right. this episode is murdering me can you tell

lily complaining about men on that facebook post. bit fruity of her, i must say *‘a day in the past’ flashbacks*

i havent watched my mum tracy beaker yet but i really need answers on how it fits timeline-wise into the tsotb/tbr/tdg canon

the fact that chloe isn’t even wrong when she says everyone would hate ryan even more if they found out mike isn’t there ‘because of him’ (read: because he quite literally had a breakdown and ran away and mike, being the only decent person in this goddamn show, went after him)

ah yes tracy, care worker of the year, really just said ‘your problems don’t fucking matter, forget that anything’s wrong because mike is getting married’. i love tracy but wow that is not the thing you say in this circumstance and the only reason it worked was because he felt bad about the cake and whatnot

this episode has such an all over the place tone. they really just went from mike freaking out to fiona figuring out he’s gone to a damn slo-mo shot of tracy and mike on a bike while ryan sprints behind them.

oh my god i forgot bailey was in this episode!! i hate him (affectionate)

this goddamn episode is so full of emotions i almost threw up oops. anyway it absolutely kills me that ryan looks like he’s about to cry pretty much the entire time. that poor kid. and then chloe really just pulls a tee and apparently loses all empathy towards him huh. love chloe but wow

i don’t think we get a chance to read what ryan wrote in that note? but i kinda wish we did. could’ve given some extra insight into everything

i have no idea if any of this is coherent, or how much of it is an actual analysis and how much is me projecting but oh well, this episode(s) is a fucking emotional trainwreck, what can you do

Oh god. I'm not prepared.

*valid regret to have, that sad queer kid with anger issues and insecurities experience hurts real bad*

Yes!! Once again proving that Tyler is the only one in the DG who actually cared about Ryan and wanted to be around him. He was pissed at Alex for not inviting Ryan like he was initally supposed to, and then took it upon himself to make Ryan feel included anyway.

That scene really pisses me off, because Alex really is going after him. You can tell, he won't let Ryan make a single joke without trying to be snarky about it, and then he purposefully tries to humiliate Ryan because he knows that Ryan couldn't possibly have known to bring a gift.

Oh yeah, I can barely ever rewatch the first part of the wedding for all of these reasons, but especially for Charlie finding out about her grandad. Emily really is way too good of an actor, that's why it's so painful.

I relate way too much to the strong empathy and projection, that shit hurts so bad.

Yeah!! Charlie did that!! Honestly, credit to her because I would not have been as calm as she was on a normal day if I had to deliver a baby in a car in the middle of nowhere, never mind after everything she had been through that day.

Okay, so you found a way to make Ryan's whole storyline of those episodes hurt way more than it already did. Thanks for that. But you are right, it does have that vague subtext to it. If this wasn't a children's show, I would've actually been worried that's where they were going to go with his storyline.

It does suck that nobody really noticed or cared that Ryan wasn't there. I wish even Tyler had shown a bit more concern, but I suppose they've only got enough time in an episode for so much.

That was definitely one of Lily's fruitiest moments, and that's saying a lot because of the aforementioned "a day in the past" flashbacks. Honestly, all of her scenes with Carmen and some with Tee are always fruity, there's nothing else to it.

Okay, so, I can kind of answer that one. My Mum Tracy Beaker definitely carries on from The Story of Tracy Beaker since it involves clips of it when Tracy sees Justine. However, it's only really connected to tbr/tdg canon through vague hints. Like, Tracy has a published book called "Who Cares?" and there's a mention of her being an ex careworker, and she wears a "T" necklace but it's slightly different from the one that she wears in the wedding episode. So, we know there are subtle references to TBR through these background details that are really just glossed over. There is a weird little moment when Tracy's daughter tells Justine that Tracy wrote a book, but Justine should already know that considering it was a big part of their reunion in Tracy Beaker Returns. At best, we can at least assume that everything that happened in TBR is canon for My Mum Tracy Beaker. I feel like, if we want to be able to make the timeline for the wedding add up with My Mum Tracy Beaker, we'd have to assume that Tracy hadn't already had Jess during the wedding. Since the wedding takes place around 2018, and Jess is 10, My Mum Tracy Beaker would have to be set in 2028 at the very least, and that would have to mean that Tracy had Jess the same year as the wedding. Either that, or she did already have Jess but just... never mentioned her because she was staying with Cam.

It really does kill me that Chloe was right about that, because you'd think at least some of them would have some sort of sympathy for Ryan. I wish Tyler did. Honestly, he had a genuine breakdown and ran away, and no one cared except Mike. Great family they are.

Yeah, that was not Tracy's best moment, but... that's just Tracy. She doesn't think, she acts on what she believes to be the best solution in that very moment. She was never exactly an aware winning care worker in all fairness skjdashd but Ryan definitely needed to hear something other than that.

I could barely be sad or stress during that episode specifically because of how chaotic it was, and ESPECIALLY because of that slow-mo that had no right being so damn hilarious.

SHFKDASJDLK "I hate him (affectionate)" well at least I'm glad the (affectionate) is there lmao. But I was screaming when I realized Baily (and Liam) were there, I was so happy!!

Oh yeah, Ryan looked so upset, he was absolutely blaming himself so badly. There was no need for Chloe to come in there "wish you'd run away for real" like fuck off. I love her. But fuck off.

I don't recall actually seeing the contents of the note now that you mention it.

Yeah, don't worry, I'm not sure most of my reply to it is coherent either. But those are episodes are some of the most fun to analyse because Drama and Angst.

[bonsaiiiiiii]

FabFiveFeb 2021 - Virgil week

prompts: a question, “I don’t understand”

here is my offering for FabFiveFeb 2021, and naturally it’s Virgil week! this chapter is quite short, a sort of...opening, if we want to put it that way (the prompts will appear in the next chapter, don’t worry if you don’t see them right now!). big thanks to @gumnut-logic for the challenge and the prompts, and to @louthestarspeaker for a general review! @nourelle-tracy here’s the whumpyy you requested. if you want some sneak peeks on the next chap pm me!

^to make it short, read this under the cut^

Another day, another rescue.

This time it was a suspended hotel in the mountains on the verge of falling and, as if that wasn't enough, there was also an armed civilian threatening the people inside. For the second thing the GDF would take of it, but the first one was an International Rescue mission.

So there were Virgil, Gordon and Scott at the site of the incident, deciding a way to at least block the hotel and evacuate all the people inside, shooter included. Jeff and John were speaking with them through hologram.

"So this massive building above you is the Heavens' Residence, and it's well known for being suspended between two mountains by a particular structure and for being the biggest in the world. Sending you the blue prints now."

Virgil studied the structure for a bit. It was mostly all corrugate and carbon steel, so resistant, and it caught support by leaning on the two mountains with many large 'claws' leaning into the rocks, like spider legs. The damage was in one of these spider legs: something fell from the top of the mountains, maybe a subsidence considered the damage, and it bent the claw. That's why the whole structure was falling, if just one if those are missing or defective it all falls. A good plan but a bad execution. "The damage is pretty visible and clear," he looked up at the bent claw above him, "we have to try and keep stable that claw, so we can evacuate everyone."

"Not until the shooter is escorted out by the GDF. We just received the signals: one less life sign." Jeff interrupted Virgil's plan sternly.

"We don't have time to wait for the GDF! They don't have time!" Virgil protested.

"I agree with dad. He could even hurt us, and we can't keep risking more lives to fall." Scott agreed with Jeff. "But it's still true that if we don't act now they're all gonna die nevertheless." He got silent for a bit, thinking of a plan through the situation.

"What's the deal with him tho?" Gordon asked curiously. "Does he shoot people randomly or has he got a motive behind this?"

"His name is Santiago Lopez, all I know about him is that he's married with a certain Louise. It seems that what triggered Mr. Lopez was seeing his wife with another man." John answered calmly.

"Scott," Virgil captured his big brother's attention. "let's stabilize that claw for the moment, then we'll think about the guests inside."

"Very well. We'll have to use the pods. Gordon?"

"FAB." the squid kid intercepted the subtle message, heading along with Scott inside Thunderbird 2 and preparing 2 pods. After not long they were already on 2 helipods,  flying up to the claw and starting immediately to stabilize it with some stabilizing foam.

Virgil in the meantime kept thinking of a way to get up to the guests. He looked at the elevator crashed on the ground, considering it wasn't the best option. He looked up for a while, to then contact John.

He answered immediately. "What's the problem, Virgil?"

"How long would it take me to climb up to the hotel's entrance or even a window?"

John opened his mouth to protest, noticing where this was going, but he eventually closed back his mouth, doing some mental calculations. "Considering the highness I would say about 20 minutes. You just need to take the exo-suit."

"I'm far beyond you, brother." Virgil laughed while putting said exo-suit on, already into his Thunderbird.

"But Scott and Gordon will be done soon, can't you wait for them?"

"It takes a whole lot of time to climb up there, you said it. And while they're stabilizing I can get inside and try to help whoever has to be helped." he stopped when he heard another gunshot in the distance. "Kinda off topic, but where is the GDF? We  would need a hand of help from them."

"5 minutes ago they said they were on their way. But-" the redhead paused for a second, "Dad won't be happy if he discovers you disobeyed his orders."

"He won't know." Virgil replied impatiently. People come before anything, it was a rule.

"You're playing with fire, I tell you that." John said before disappearing. Virgil huffed, and climbed his way through.

It didn't take long for him to get up to the entrance of the hotel and get inside safely. The vision that presented itself in front of him was almost grotesque: the bodies of the two lovers were laying lifeless on the ground, and if he had to explain it to his brothers later he would say that the 2 bodies were reduced to a colander. He could clearly sense the disgusting smell of vomit, even through his helmet; seems like someone has a sensible stomach. Well, the sight was horrible, so it was justified. The woman, Louise, was caucasian but tanned, while the man was maybe Cuban. They were both unrecognizable in the face.

And speaking of others...where were they? He looked quickly around him, and he saw many people hidden behind counters, tables...they were all shaking and trembling, but nobody didn't seem to be caught in the fire of the jealous man. He didn't see anybody hurt and nobody bloody, but there was a little girl who was whimpering and holding her arm. He quickly paced to her.

"Are you okay miss?"

She, on the other hand, widened her eyes in pure horror. "Are you from the police?"

"No...I'm from International Rescue. I'm here to save you."

"You can't do that!" she shouted, but somewhat her sentence came out whispered lightly.

"Hey, it's okay. We're gonna get you to safety." he repeated, this time a bit more quietly.

"He will kill us if he sees you here! He has already killed his wife and..." The girl continued to whisper terrified, looking around frantically.

He tried to ignore that statement for the time being by kneeling slowly. "Are you hurt?"

"No...but he killed my dad." she let a sob slip away. Virgil blinked, understanding the gravity of the situation in a single instant.

"Is your mom with you?"

"Mom died, dad didn’t know the other mom had a husband..." The girl’s sobs were echoing all over the room.

For a moment Virgil’s heart tightened in a painful vice; the child was too young to lose both parents, and apparently also a stepmother she loved. "How old are you?"

"11..." The child replied sad, and then watched him terrified. Or he didn’t look at him...he could see a shadow forming in front of him. A shadow that was not his own.

"Turn slowly." The new voice was very sharp and shaky, a sign of instability, but Virgil did what the other man told him anyway. As he turned completely to look at him he found a gun pointed at his forehead. Small enough, maybe it makes a lot of noise. Virgil made sure to cover the child behind him as much as possible, trying to hide the nervousness that attacked his mind and trying to muffle the sound of the quiet sobs and sobs that he heard echoing throughout the room.

Suddenly his communicator echoed in the room, possibly John trying to get in touch with him for an update on the situation. Maybe Scott or Gordon to warn him that they had finished with the claw.

"Don’t answer." The shrill voice of his assailant echoed again in the room, the gun pressing more and more in his forehead.

"I won’t answer." Virgil replied, holding his hands in the air so that the other could see them.

Mr Lopez was about to replicate something when the deafening noise of various engines grew nearer and louder, until everyone saw a very familiar military aircraft looming a shadow over everyone’s heads.

As if the situation were not disastrous enough, all the guests began to scream and run in all directions, agitated. The assailant distracted his attention from Virgil, holding the gun to his temple but loosening the grip a bit, and Virgil in turn took the opportunity to get out of the firing trajectory and run away to try to calm everyone down.

The situation became even more dramatic when a shot, even very close, echoed in the air, causing everyone to stop dead in their tracks. Virgil also stopped, looking around quickly to see if everyone was okay, if no one had been hit by the shot just launched. No, no one seemed to be hurt. So why were they all screaming worse than before?

The GDF guards, camouflaged in green, entered quickly, who surrounded in a moment the shooter, who protected the customers by positioning in front of them, who took care of possible wounds, fortunately mild. Colonel Casey appeared in all her mastery as always: chest out, chin high, sharp and deep look, hands always behind her back.

"Santiago Lopez, you’re under arrest for the murder of your wife and her lover. Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney." The colonel turned to the shooter as another guard carried his hands behind his back, handcuffing him. Lopez resisted the arrest, hurling insults to left and right and calling in unpleasant ways his now deceased wife, eventually giving in and being escorted out by the guards, all this not before turning a deadly look at the Colonel, who in responde turned to turned to look at Virgil, her look visibly softer. "What are you doing here? Didn’t your father say you should stay and wait near your Thunderbird?" She let out her right hand to Virgil, for him to take it, a sort of salutation valid for all the brothers. Although they were worth a lot more to her than that type of salute.

Virgil turned completely to the Colonel, having been turned to the side until then; he extended his hand in turn, only to realize that something was wrong. His hand had remained along his hips. Not even his arm had moved. Virgil ignored the exclamation of surprise -or perhaps of terror? - of his godmother, looking at his right shoulder and immediately understanding the source of the problem.

There was a small hole, made bigger by the blood, going through his shoulder from side to side, even through his exo-suit, and a giant pool of blood forming quickly on the ground.

"I don’t understand..." Virgil began, and then suddenly felt dizzy, symptom of too much blood loss.

"Stay still, try to move as little as possible. How did you not notice?" He found the colonel’s hands around the gunshot wound, pressing to prevent further blood from escaping. Meanwhile his communicator sounded again.

Casey looked at Virgil’s failure to respond, noting that he was beginning to pass out. She came down with him on the cold floor, his head on her lap and her hands pressing on his wound, helped by a shirt found on the ground. She muttered some curses under her breath and then responded to Virgil’s communicator who kept on echoing, looking with her peripheral vision at the guards who were taking the now handcuffed shooter out of the hotel. The hologram of a concerned Scott appeared as a flash.

"Colonel Casey! Don't tell me Virgil is there?" Scott asked somewhere between the concerned and the nervous.

"Well..." she replied, lowering her eyes to her hands smeared with Virgil’s blood.

"Why did he have to disobey Dad’s orders?!" The eldest exclaimed, to then start talking again after a deep breath. "At least let him be okay."

"I’m sorry to say it, but not exactly."

"What the fuck happened to him?" Gordon’s voice overlayed Scott’s undivided voice, a sign that he was also close by. "Scott, we’re done with the claw." Then a serious Gordon appeared in the hologram. "Can we come in Colonel?"

"You have to! Hurry." Virgil was starting to get pale and cold. While waiting for the eldest and the youngest of the family, Casey’s mind was filled with thousands of questions, many with answers.

It was more than normal for Virgil to put the needs of others before his own, and it was not so much for the work he did as for his own character. That’s who he was. Virgil Tracy was the type to disobey orders, not sit around, be impatient. But he was also the type to sacrifice for others, especially his brothers. He knew he was going to get in danger inside that hotel but he still entered anyway. His motto might have been "I would sacrifice for you." But that wasn’t Virgil’s motto. No.

Scott was the first to enter, as usual; Scott was the first in all. Gordon followed him, but he was a bit slower, perhaps out of fear of the scene he would find himself in front of, perhaps out of fear of not being able to do anything for his older brother. They both gasped in seeing his brother in a pool of blood, of his own blood, while the Colonel stubbornly tried to stop the blood with a now-soaked shirt.

Scott, however, said nothing; he only knelt, inspecting first his wrist for the heartbeat. It was weak. "He lost too much..." he murmured to himself. He lightly touched Virgil’s cheek; his eyes opened slowly, black and abysmal. "Hey, Virgil. You in there, little brother?"

Virgil didn’t answer, but he blinked a couple of times. Lifeless. He wasn’t even looking at him.

Another day, another rescue.