#ADHD Scott Tracy

[astranite]

Love is Stored in the Pasta

Scott, John and pasta.

This started off from a tumblr post 'cause somebody needed to cook that guy some pasta!!

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, really very mild scott is hangrysad, ft john's space issues, Chronic Illness, as thats what im treating it as and its not the focus here he's just living with it, Scott Tracy has ADHD, this is important, Autistic John Tracy, lowkey here but also Important to me, this is fun and fluffy and i love them, i hope this is like a warm comforting bowl of pasta to you too

---

“We need to talk,” John said.

On the other side of the call, Scott’s hologram slumped over his desk, his head landing in his hands. “Oh God.”

“I found your search history…” John began.

Scott peered out sheepishly from behind his fingers. “I can explain!”

“It’s just pages and pages of pasta?” 

John was puzzled, honestly. Five to ten recipe blogs and that was Scott trying to decide what to make for dinner during a meeting or while he was struggling to concentrate on work. During lulls between callouts, he and John would sometimes debate options together. More than forty separate sites visited at 3:12pm on a Tuesday afternoon and Eos had flagged it for John, on suspicion that Scott’s computer had been hacked by a malicious entity or some other AI virus.

Scott went from double facepalm of despair to full on faceplant, his head hitting the desk with an audible thunk.

“Why so much pasta?” John questioned. Now his curiosity was piqued, he couldn’t let it go or he’d be doing EVA work later, still turning over possibilities in his mind, which wasn’t conducive to the constant concentration needed while floating around in the vacuum. Outside, any misstep would be your last.

“I dunno. I just feel like pasta,” Scott mumbled into the wood.

Scott sounded…weird. Like he was about to start laughing, or coming down with a cold.

“Scott? Are you okay?”

It had better not be another flu; corralling Scott to take care of himself was hard enough even if he wasn’t feverish. John wouldn’t be able to come down either, quarantined up in Five unless he already had it. Was the slight tug of a headache at his temples from his sinuses beginning to clog up too?

Scott hadn’t looked up yet; his shoulders were shaking. John wiggled his fingers anxiously.

“Scotty?”

Big brother’s head shot up at the nickname John so rarely used. Had John intended to provoke that reaction? The name had been a slip of the tongue but if he was was honest, he sort of had meant to jar Scott out of his thoughts. He never called Scott, Scotty unless he was scared though. And Scott not answering him did tick tick tick up his system from yellow alert into red.

“I’m fine, it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” Scott’s words ran over each other in an attempt to come first. His voice sounded oddly wet.

Tears, yes those were indeed tears dulled by holographic format, tumbled down Scott’s cheeks.

As soon as he saw John looking, Scott turned away.

Suddenly, John landed on the spark of insight that he had a hunch would crack the code to his big brother’s distress. “Have you eaten anything all day?”

Scott dug around for tissues in a drawer of the desk and gave a half shrug. “I guess not—not really? I tried to before you say anything. Got a mouthful of breakfast in and then there was a call out. Lunch didn’t happen, there was a meeting, I had to make coffee, I ran out of time. I don’t really feel hungry though…”

That did explain a few things. It was well known family lore that Virgil and Alan got hangry, and Gords went all sad and mopey. Scott and John himself though, they got …really, unstably emotional. 

So yeah, hence the unexpected bursting into tears. John got the whole shit interoception and not even noticing if you needed to eat while you were buried in work thing; Scott was way too used to ignoring his body too. 

John took a deep breath. “Scott, and I’m one-hundred percent serious about this, do you want me to come down there and make you some pasta?”

Thunderbird Five systems whirred around John in the quiet as Scott hesitated.

“Maybe,” he whispered. “Or you don’t have to, I’ll wait, Virge’ll be doing dinner in a bit anyway.”

“Virgil won’t be up until past sunset after the hours Thunderbird Two was out yesterday and into this morning,” John said gently. “You need to eat before then.”

Nor would an overwhelmed Scott and the kitchen be a good combination at this point, and John saw the moment Scott realised this, while fidgeting with the rubix cube on his desk. 

“I want to do this for you,” John told him.

Scott dashed at his eyes, sniffled a few times and finally capitulated. “Okay. Thanks, Jay.”

John smiled and signed off, heading for the space elevator. He was usually so far away, he was right now, but it was in his power to close off that distance when he needed to and today he could use that. 

He farewelled Eos; she so often missed him but the opportunities to run the space station on her own that weren’t emergencies where he was incapacitated excited her. They showed how much he had come to trust and rely on her. Plus she got full reign of their virtual chess set.

On Earth, Scott was waiting for him as the elevator docked, his hands stuck casually in his jeans pockets but looking as pale and wobbly as John felt. His face was still tearstained.

“Hey.”

“Hey to you too.” John took a few heavy steps before throwing himself at Scott, wrapping his arms around his brother tightly, all the while careful not to knock him off balance. Scott stiffened then melted into John. 

Usually that interaction went the other way around. 

Scott used the extra height space gave John to rest his head on him without having to duck down like with everyone else. John hugged him close and comfortingly as his fingers tap tap tapped their rhythm at Scott’s shoulder. All of it meant I love you.

“Pasta time?” John said eventually.

Scott nodded silently, following when John started off towards the kitchen. The raw rock wall of the hanger was rough and vividly solid in its three dimensions, as John ran his hand along it for balance as he walked that initial part. He was touching the Earth, he was in the Earth, he was on Earth.

With cold water from the fridge dispenser and the fizzy, brightly coloured tablets shook out of their tube, John made up lidded cups of electrolyte drink for himself and Scott. John needed to be sculling the stuff perpetually to stay upright down here, and he would not be at all surprised if Scott was dehydrated too. It might to something for John’s headache, could go either way for the nausea coming on.

He put a large pot on the heat. One advantage of having a stove so high powered that it could nuke anything it touched was that any volume of water boiled fast. 

An entire packet of fettuccine got tipped into the enthusiastic cacophony of bubbles. John poked at it with a pasta scoop, regretting that he hadn’t snapped the long pieces to actually fit in better. Ah well. 

He shook in an excessive-to-anyone-not-him amount of salt with a shrug ‘cause he needed it, before having another go at separating the pasta. The pasta scoop was quite an effective implement for that, there were reasons after all it was Gordon’s favourite utensil as John remembered from previous discussions. One could also use it to mash potatoes when held vertically, if one so pleased. His second favourite was the tongs as they could be clicked like crab claws and used to pinch unsuspecting siblings. 

Scott watched from his place slumped over the kitchen bench on a stool, chewing on the ragged skin at the edge of his thumbnail. He was trying to work on a couple of screens pulled up as holomonitors, as unsuccessfully as could be expected. John came over and hopped up to sit on the bench, clipping through the projected email inbox and meeting minutes so Scott dismissed them. It was with a sigh of relief.

They smiled tiredly at each other.

The pasta! John tapped at his uniform comms watch. “Eos, set a timer for the pasta, please?” John shaved the minute that had already passed off of the box time and then another couple to ensure it wouldn’t come out mushy.

“So what sort of stuff on pasta do you feel like? There’s a good lot of options you were looking at earlier.”

“We don’t have the ingredients for most of those, I checked. No eggs and no mushrooms so no carbonara. Technically that wouldn’t be authentic carbonara though. No cream cheese. We missed this week’s supply run so we don’t even have any frozen peas!” Scott threw his hands up in the air.

“Hmmm. You feel like something creamy?”

“Yeah. Honestly at this point I’d eat anything.”

John swung his legs and tapped his fingers on the counter while he thought.

“I believe some bacon is hiding in the bottom of the freezer so that’s something. And…” he trailed of as he moved his head too fast and set off a wave of dizziness as he looked around the kitchen.

“Avocado!” Scott exclaimed.

“Avocado?”

“Funny story, we ended up with several cases of them after that rescue on that farm where we saved the whole village and nearly all their trees from catastrophic flooding. They really need eating too and there’s only so much toast you can stand.”

“I have heard theoretically of putting avo on pasta and it does sound good. Mmmm bacon and avocado, John hummed. “Worth a shot?”

Scott reached towards the fruit bowl in answer, grinning at John. “Soon we will have pasta!”

John peeled off the upper half of his uniform and tied the arms around his waist in preparation. In the subtropical summer down here he was already getting too hot and while the temperature regulation built into his suit would do its best to make up for his own body’s lack thereof, it felt weird to have everything covered up from fingertips to neck down here while he was cooking.

Scott began to giggle.

“Huh?” John said, extremely eloquently.

Scott gestured at him. 

“My suit?” Was something up with his suit? The full gloved hands and sleeves flopping about without John in them had been known to amuse the lot of them on occasion, ever since he’d used the empty suit as a phoney decoy of himself to trick Eos. It was pretty funny now no one was in mortal peril and Eos was his friend.

“Your face!” Scott exclaimed.

“What’s wrong with my face?” 

John frowned. Was it his fringe that never could survive true gravity? He hadn’t gotten freckles while he’d been down all of half an hour and inside, had he? Then he looked down.

His t-shirt had a photograph of his face printed on it, and across the chest, emblazoned in neon orange read the words ‘Space Face’, courtesy of one particular fish brother. Ah yes. That.

John sighed, resting his chin on his hand to hide the smile he couldn’t quite control. “Not exactly subtle, is it? In my defence this was the only one in my closet that was clean and you can’t exactly see it beneath my suit. It’s all Gordon’s fault anyway!”

Scott was still laughing, albeit a touch hysterically and at him, but John took it as a win regardless.

Eventually Scott grabbed himself a cutting board and knife to get to work on the avocados as John carefully slipped off the bench, steadying himself on the counter as his ankles went noodley so he could handle the bacon. 

Bacon, bacon, now where had he seen that bacon? He had the image of it in his head, but that was only one piece of the puzzle, a photograph, humanly imperfect, memory woven out of instinct. Digging about in the deep freeze which the evidence pointed to as best John could tell had his fingers feeling like he’d stuck them out in space with out gloves on. They ached sharply as John cursed his crappy circulation. 

He gladly found the bacon though, lurking at the second darkest depths. He would not be willing to venture into the midnight zone of Unidentified Frozen Objects and charred dinner leftovers put away for ‘later’. He chucked the packet into the microwave and thawed out his hands by running them under lukewarm water, wincing all the while. If he’d thought this through, if he’d been smart enough, he would’ve put his suit gloves back on—his space rated, cold proof, most definitely impervious to domestic appliances gloves— and saved himself the pain.

Scott came over to rinse his avocado green hands. He dried them off then wrapped his arms around John’s waist so he could lean on him, giving in for a moment in face of daunting gravity. With Scott, he could because Scott got him; they both could.

“You alright?” And there was big brother smotherhen coming out.

John flexed his defrosted fingers. “I will be.” He turned and smushed his face into Scott’s neck for a little bit, hugging back, Scott rested his head on John’s, and they stayed there for a while.

They were both fading. The pasta would help with that, Scott really needed to eat and so did John at this point, the half a dry bagel for breakfast and another at lunch hadn’t really been enough. The trick now was finishing the task that felt as if it expanding faster by the second than the Universe, as measured by the Hubble Constant was. They could do this though. Together.

Scott chopped up the bacon roughly and John cooked it, hissing back when it spat hot oil at him. 

When Eos notified them the timer had gone off, and John had very scientifically tested the pasta was done by nomming on a bit, he called Scott over carry the large pot to the colander in the sink to strain. 

“Gravity plus boiling water plus my space noodley arms are probably not a good combo,” he laughed. 

He was getting better at knowing his limits. Scott’s smile was small and proud, he saw John.

Scott stared at the bacon with the intensity of a starved wolf with its mouth watering, then stole some pieces hot from the pan and burnt his mouth. Scoff Tracy strikes again. 

They dumped the pasta in a big mixing bowl with the mashed avocado, a little lemon juice, the bacon, and a whole lot of salt, pepper and parmesan cheese, mixing it together with the big pasta scoop.

John swayed on his feet then, grabbing onto Scott to stay upright for long enough to decide actually the best place for him right now was sitting on the kitchen floor just here. John folded himself down to the ground in a slithering pile of too long, too bendy limbs, Scott wordlessly guiding his descent. 

“You want me to grab some sporks to eat with?”

“They’re splayds, technically,” John remarked. He gave Scott the thumbs up anyway, while he rested his spinning head on his knees.

Scott waved about his ‘sporks’ acquired from the cutlery draw with a victorious grin before he sunk to the ground to join John.

John took one, passing the pasta to Scott once he was settled, lanky legs stretched out for miles, bumping into John’s.

“We forgot plates,” Scott said.

John shrugged. “At this point, who cares. We have pasta.”

“We do.” Scott blinked for a moment. “I didn’t before and I wouldn’t’ve but now we do.”

He hugged the warm pasta bowl to his chest, and when John observed more closely he saw the tears collecting on Scott’s eyelashes, sparkling in the kitchen light as he looked up at John.

“Thanks. I love you so much, Jay.”

John gave him a gentle smile, ducking to knock his forehead against his brother’s shoulder like a cat. “Love is stored in the pasta.”

Scott smiled back at him and they both dug in.

It was good pasta.

Really good pasta, because he was here with Scott and through everything they had made it, together.

[astranite]

Yessss!!! And this looks very fun to do. Nyoooooom!!!

Please tell me other people do this please tell me I’m sane

[thunderbird1lover]

Okay I really would love for some ADHD Scott Tracy fics because I've looked everywhere and can hardly find any!

(If u make one tell me please 🙏)

[newwavesylviaplath]

what are your top five favourite movies of all time (and why?) 💘

again this is so hard cuz i don't watch movies but ill try my best to answer.

5. sleep away camp; literally the definition of 80s campy horror it's what ahs 1984 wishes it could be

4. scott pilgrim vs the world; ultimate comfort movie!! ive read all the comics and have a scott pilgrim action figure also besides this fact its a good movie i like how i can recognize a bunch of the places DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE SOUNDTRACK i love all the bands so much and because the majority of them are canadian i have like some weird connection to them (my fave thing to brag abt is how my mom went to highschool with the drummer of broken social scene and they were like CLOSE friends like not just acquaintances)

3. brigsby bear; another comfort movie- i used to be a diehard snl fan but i was like SPECIFICALLY obsessed with kyle mooney (still love him) and also this movie is so like sweet and like perfect example of the offbeat humour + heartwarming ending combo im convinced that kyle's just ahead of his time and that this will totally be a cult classic one day.

2. kill me now; another movie with kyle mooney- im a giant nerd when it comes to improv and sketch comedy (don't get me started on the podcasts omfg) so when i found out that all of good neighbor was in this movie i had to watch. another example of campy horror although it's very 2012 type humour so i think a lot of ppl think it's like stupid but whatever ill defend it till the day i die its free on youtube go watch

1. excision (2008); literally another film from youtube that i've seen too many times to count. this is a short film (which is great considering i have horrible adhd) but it was turned into a full length feature in like 2013 i think. the full length one is also very good; it features traci lords AND john waters as a minister 💀 so again it has kind of a kitschy vibe to it but not as much as the others. the original is a lot more on the serious side. it's totally perfect if u have mommy issues the last scene always makes me cry (you'll also like it if ur mentally ill or maybe just have a blood kink)

sorry idk why i wrote a whole essay. also honourable mention is the movie 'slaxx' that was absolutely wild.

[via-l0ve]

🎃 Supernatural please

(I'm on season 1 and I basically only know of Dean, Sam, Castiel and a little bit of Crowley so... yeah telling you that in advance, hope that doesn't ruin things)

I'm 5'2 - 5'3, I'm a girl, I have long black/dark brown curly hair (it basically goes a bit past my butt), I'm very sarcastic, I'm talkative with the people I know and quiet with the people I don't quite know yet, I've been told I'm the funny friend so... yeah, I love coffee, my top 8 artists rn are probably Elvis, Tracy Chapman, Childish Gambino, Hozier, Elton John, ABBA, Queen and Alanis Morissette but I also really like rock, I adore scooby doo (even tho I may be a bit to old for it), I really like Van Gogh and can talk about him for hours, Halloween is my fav holiday, I have really bad ADHD, my fav movies are 10 things I hate about you, definitely maybe, Mamma mia, Scott pilgrim and Interview with a vampire, I LOVE vampires and all supernatural stuff like that (that's why I like this show so much), I love angst, I cry doing or even thinking about math, I'm a December Sagittarius, I have an older twin brother meaning I'm the youngest and I've always wished to be an older sibling, I like otters, my favorite color is Navy blue, I don't have the attention span to read books so I listen to audio books instead, I've always wanted a pink motorcycle even though my fashion sense consists for dark clothing, band shirts, pajama pants and ripped jeans, I have 2 dogs but I LOVE cats and I have pretty thick thighs which is why I never wear skirts

OMG EW THIS IS WAY TO MUCH I GOTTA GO ON ANON IM SO SO SO SORRY EW THIS IS TO MUCH

ONCE AGAIN SO SORRY, YOU DONT GOTTA READ ALL OF THAT, THIS IS EMBARRASSING I JUST DONT KNOW HOW MUCH YOU NEED- OMG EW SO SORRY AGAIN

LMFAOO STOP I GIGGLED WHEN I READ THE LAST COUPLE LINES PLEASE. DONT BE EMBARRASSED BABES PLEASE THE MORE INFO THE MERRIER DONT APOLOGIZE!!!!

i ship you with Sammy!!

he would watch scooby doo with you for hours. he loves screaming along to music with you and laughing when your voices hit off key. since you don’t have the attention span to actually read he would read out loud to you while you cuddle up to him. on the rare occasion that you do wear a skirt he will be foaming at the mouth omg omg omg he literally thinks you’re gorgeous. pleaseee talk about Van Gogh to sam he will let you go on for hours and ask questions to keep you going. his non adhd ass will balance out your ADHD perfectly bc while you’re having an ADHD thing he’s just sitting all calm lol. he loves you

[astranite]

Lovely fic :) Very glad to reread this one again! All the Scott and adhd Scott feels!!

This one accosted me while I was trying to write something else (which appears to be A Pattern for me and writing… well… anything actually). It is very much inspired by many enjoyable conversations / informal therapy sessions with @astranite who shares my “what’s really going on with Scott” headcanon, and at the same time helped me figure out what might be going on with me too. Thank you for everything and for helping me nudge this into something shareable.

It’s also inspired by @sofasurf’s amazing set of fics about Scott’s struggles in the early days post Jeff disappearing. It’s absolutely right that after an initial crisis his brothers and grandma would have put in measures to stop him needing to work so hard and bear it all alone and I love how she tells that story.

And yet… we have Scott who 6 years later is still up late sat at that thrice-darned desk.. brothers aside, he’s CEO of a company that would employ a lot of competent people to sort out all the nitty gritty paperwork. So why is he still frequently found asleep there 6 years on?

This is my attempt to figure out some of the Reason… and not in any way a side quest distracting me from my own Big Document nemesis. Nope.

It is, however, 99% projection for which I hope you’ll forgive me. Hopefully it’s not too out of character.

Sort of an emotional hurt-comfort thing. The ending is very silly because that is apparently how I roll.

Trochilidae

Scott shook his head irritably as his eyelids drooped and flung out his hand to grab his mug… which promptly took a nose dive off the desk.

Allowing himself to face plant the polished wood for a moment he acknowledged he was, at least, lucky it was empty. Something he really should have remembered as that would have been the 5th time he had raised it to his lips only to be disappointed at the lack of caffeinated wake up juice within.

Not that it was doing any good. He scowled. It never did. The miraculous transformation from ‘Sleep of the Dead’ to ‘Alert and Ready’ that the brown stuff could bring about in Virgil and Brains remained a mystery to him. Drinking it kind of kept him grounded though, maybe that was just habit by now. Nevertheless… he shoved his chair back and stood up, glaring at the chunks of ceramic on the floor: a job for future Scott. He went to get a new mug.

Re-entering the living room, he surveyed the scene. All was quiet. Deep breath… stretch out shoulders… he tilted his head from side to side to shift the tension in his neck with a satisfying series of cracks.

1am. No problem.

He was nearly done and then he could get to bed and get a solid 4 hours oblivion before his morning run.

Back at his desk, he took a fortifying gulp of focus juice, put on his determined face, picked up his tablet and swiped up to open the annual report again. He blitzed through another three paragraphs, noted down 4 questions for the board, one for the accountant and one further point to follow up with Jack, the Tracy family lawyer, before his eye was drawn to the broken mug scattered across the floor.

Probably shouldn’t leave that.

Gordon might wander by in those flimsy deck shoes and mortally wound himself.

He laid the tablet back down, pointed at it and muttered” don’t go anywhere” to the document that had been tormenting him. Blinking rapidly as he realised quite how little sense THAT had made, he crouched down to nudge the scattered fragments into a pile he could scoop up into the waste basket.

From this angle he realised there was a lot more than just decimated mug and coffee splatters down here… there were crumbs galore, odd, sticky patches and… yes he was pretty sure that the mysterious patch of shadow tucked away under the back corner of the desk was the better part of a club sandwich. He shuffled over, crablike, and reached underneath to retrieve it, sniffed it cautiously and was just concluding it was unlikely to be worth the subsequent food poisoning when John’s hologram popped up in front of him. He didn’t even glance up to see the inevitable raised eyebrow.

“Don’t even say it, John.”

Obediently his space-brother remained silent.

“I’m nearly done. I’m just signing off the annual report for the board meeting tomorrow.”

“From… under the desk?”

Blue eyes were cast upwards as Scott strode over to the kitchen to dispose of the rancid but weirdly tempting sandwich. There was no liner in the food waste caddy. He tutted and placed the plate on the counter top to deal with in a minute.

“Obviously not, I just spotted that Gordon had left something gross lying around and we don’t want a repeat of the taco incident.”

“Okay, and what are you doing now?”

Scott looked down at the cleaning bot in his hands.

“I… well it’s clearly not been working, the place is a health hazard so I was just going to see if I could…”

This time he did raise his eyes to meet the eyebrow of judgment.

Holding up the bot for John to examine, he grinned at his little brother and shook it gently.

“Look it has googly eyes! I bet that was Gordon.”

“Unlikely to be causing the malfunction. Get Brains to take a look at it tomorrow. Or Alan, he needs the practice.”

“True. Oh, did you see the note his teacher sent through?” Scott returned the bot to its housing and jogged over to his desk to pull up the email in question. He sat down and started to type a reply.

“Scott.”

“Mmhmm?”

“I saw it. It’s non-urgent.”

“Yes but while I think of it I might as well…”

“It’s 1:27am. Why don’t you just sign off the report and get some rest. It’ll keep.”

A melodramatic huff and the offending document was returned to the screen.

“You’ve been reading this for the last four days, Scott. What’s the issue? Can I help?”

“There are just so many points I need to follow up before I can put my name to it.” Scott highlighted a particular paragraph. “What if the data this is based on is inaccurate? I haven’t seen it!” He stabbed at another “These assertions here… is it ok to say that? I need to check the industry standards for…” he gestured vehemently “six or seven of these baseline metrics. The grammar in the narrative paragraphs feels clumsy. And I haven’t even started proof-reading it for typos yet!”

Scott took a deep shuddering breath and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, weaving his fingers into his hair and gripping slightly harder than was comfortable as if that would ease the headache he knew was starting.

“The accountants have checked it, the divisional heads have checked it, Jack has been all over it at least twice. Virgil and the engineering team went through it with a fine tooth comb last week, they’ll know the baselines. I’ve checked it myself. Even EOS had a look.”

The response was barely audible.

“But what if… it’s not good enough? If someone missed something and… I didn’t spot it…”

“You don’t have to spot everything Scott. We pay smart people very generously to spot things. As CEO you are allowed to rely on them.”

Silence.

“Please… can you trust us?”

Holding his breath to fight a wave of nausea, Scott flipped to the final page of the document and added his digital signature.

With ninja-like speed John had saved the file and forwarded it to the board.

“It’s done, big brother. Go and sleep in your actual bed for a change.”

A swift shake of the head and muttered curse as big brother realised he’d gnawed through his bottom lip again.

“Can’t.” He stood up and paced the room.

“You know, maybe you shouldn’t have caffeine so late. Even Virgil…”

Scott’s snapped explanation that it made no difference whatsoever and that John KNEW that was forestalled by a series of beeps followed by a low hum as the cleaning bot started trawling across the floor.

“EOS?”

“Yeah, I asked her to see whether a firmware update would sort it.”

“Right.”

The brothers watched in silence as the little machine zigzagged around the room, bumping from one obstacle to another in an apparently haphazard fashion.

“It doesn’t seem very efficient does it?”

Scott sank suddenly to the floor in an effort to hide the fact his legs had turned to jelly.

“No, but it’ll get there in the end and everything will be done and it will all be ok.”

He snorted at his brother’s lack of subtlety and rested his forehead on his knees, concentrating on breathing evenly. He was fine. It was all fine. Again.

A few minutes passed before he noticed a faint high pitched giggle and his moment of peace was interrupted by the cleaning bot repeatedly bumping into his hip. He lifted his head to glare at it only for his eyes to make contact with the outsized googly ones jiggling wildly with each collision. His shoulders shook and he pressed his lips together to try to contain the rush of emotion rising up in his chest.

“EOS!”

As John turned to lecture the AI about when it was and wasn’t appropriate to annoy older brothers, the bot froze, all unblinking innocence gazing up at him. Scott let slip the smallest chortle then, after a beat, exploded, throwing back his head with howls of laughter, tears running down his face

It took him a while to compose himself enough to notice he was now lying on his back on the living room floor, John smiling down at him like some benevolent heavenly messenger. Smugness permeated through EOS’s voice as she enquired whether the Commander was much better now. He hiccuped. Then nodded. As he peeled himself off the floor and patted the cleaning bot absently, Scott found himself seized by An Idea.

And so it was that as Gordon awoke with his dawn alarm to find a 6-day old sandwich with giant eyes watching him from his bedside table.

The screech of a horrified squid echoed through the villa and was swiftly followed by the slamming of doors and the thundering of feet as most of its occupants tore to the rescue of a brother in distress.

The eldest brother remained precisely where he was, warm and comfortable, listening to the chaos and bemused voices. He smiled to himself and drifted back off to sleep.

[AO3]

[dinosrawr]

I can't believe I'm actually doing a tag game on Tumblr, but I do be liking @ranger-kellyn so here goes:

3 ships: Benedikt Montagav & Marshall Seo from These Violent Delights (my boys! my sons! let them be happy!). Regina Mills & Robin Hood from Once Upon a Time (Regina's happy ending doesn't have a romance in it, but by the fairy, she's fucking WANTED one!). Holland Vosijk & A Damned Break from Shades of Magic (just let that poor man have a vacation, shit).

First ever ship: There's been couples I've liked together before this, but by season 3/4 I wanted nothing more than for poor FitzSimmons to have a moment of peace. Like. Let them FIND OUT if they want to be a romantic couple or remain platonic. Let them rest! And then the second the characters decided that "yes, I'd like to try," I was 110% on board. Cheering them on amidst disaster. (Wait. I'm sensing a theme. Do I like DOOMED relationships?! These all have someone who looks like they won't make it to the end of the series. Fuck...)

Last song: Looks like I paused in the middle of Stay (Faraway, So Close!) by U2, but the last full song I heard was the Zombie cover by Bad Wolves.

Last movie: It's a Wonderful Life. Yes, it was Christmas Eve.

Currently reading: Bro, I have.... A LIST. I'm on break and the ADHD can only handle like 10 pages at a time, but I want to read!!! So.... *ahem* Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld, Her Majesty's Royal Coven (audio) by Juno Dawson, The Sword of Kaigen by ML Wang, Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, The Grimrose Girls by Laura Pohl, Dragons of Autumn Twilight by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, and four secrets

Currently watching: The Owl House with the besties and Agents of SHIELD with myself. Both of which are to lower my hella high anxiety levels right now.

Currently consuming: water, forced upon me by the aforementioned besties.

Tags for funsies if you wanna: @thedisassociation @ruthsic @sharvil1

[thunderbird3-is-go]

The Tracy Brothers

Headcanons and canons

Ages: (Canon)

Scott is the oldest

Virgil is the second oldest

John is the middle child

Gordon is the second youngest

Alan is the youngest

Mental health: (headcanons/canon)

Scott has Anxiety and is a people pleaser (headcanon)

Virgil has OCD (headcanon)

John has social anxiety (canon)

Gordon has ADHD (headcanon)

Alan has ADHD and anger issues (headcanon)

Hobbies: (Headcanons/canon)

Scott likes to help Brains in the lab or hang with his brothers (headcanon)

Virgil likes to play piano, paint and sculpt with trees and bushes (canon)

John likes to read and learn about the constellations (headcanon)

Gordon likes to swim, prank his brothers and watch conspiracy theory videos (canon/headcanons)

Alan likes video games, learning about space, watching TV and hanging out with his brothers (canon/headcanons)

Dog or cat person: (headcanon)

Scott, Gordon and Alan are dog people

John is a cat person

Virgil likes both

Favourite sibling: (Headcanon)

Scott is the “I love you all equally” but his favourite is Alan

Virgil is the “of course” when anyone asks if they’re his favourite.

John is the “I don’t like any of you” but it’s either Scott or Alan

Gordon is the “in your dreams!” When they ask if they’re his favourite.

Alan is the “I love all of you!” And actually means it/depends who annoys him the least that day.

[astranite]

CH2 Coming Home Loudly

John isn't okay because it sure is lonely up in space. Scott follows through on his promises; he's here for his brothers and nothing, not even the distance between Earth and Thunderbird Five could stop him. Gordon is also Making Sure This Happens. --After suffering in silence, John comes home.

@janetm74 's Suffering In Silence which this follows. Ch1 upon tumblr.

@lying4sport

---

It had been twelve weeks since anyone had last hugged John or touched him at all. Scott would've been the last, leaving him on Thunderbird Five months ago with a quick squeeze of his shoulder to say goodbye. If Scott had known then that it would be for this long or had put together the pieces about the debacle with Alan already, he would have given in to the urge to tackle John into a hug, professional dignity while on duty be damned. He only had now and his brother in his arms.

All things considered, the stifled sob John let out was far from surprising. 

How he tugged away from the contact fully was even less so. Scott let him go, not forcing his brother to put up with his personal space being invaded when he was so unused to having anyone else around. He wouldn't anyway, even if his own heart ached. John needed physical affection to be on his own terms as much as he did need it.

John's arms went back to hugging himself as he rocked on his feet from heel to toe and back again, sniffling. "It's really nice to have you here."

"I'm glad to see you too. I really am," Scott replied. That barely begun to express how badly he wanted only to sit at John’s side and talk about anything or nothing at all, simply to be close.

Pretending to inspect the big ol' International Rescue sign became far more interesting as Scott turned away to let John surreptitiously wipe at his eyes. Spelled out in blaring capital letters, it was underlined red on the front of their space station

Funny how they had built this massive sign into Thunderbird Five up here where only John saw.

Scott ran his hands through his hair. He'd heard his brother's voice, seen his image through their communications array every day and near every mission since John had last rotated out, but it didn’t compare. Never could. It had been so damn long since he'd actually been physically in John's presence. 

He missed him ever so much.

He spun back to John, slowly to give him warning but too fast because right now he needed his brother in his sight. John seemed a bit more with it, the mask of Thunderbird Five, the larger than life promise of salvation overshadowing the very human operator slipping back into place. There were still cracks in it to see his brother through as John fidgeted with his uniform, twisting his fingers around his baldric until it crumpled.

He was more the utterly exhausted, probably covered in mud and hangry level of put together of the others after a mission, than John's usual never less than perfect. Scott would take what he could get though. If John started crying again, Scott couldn't guarantee he wouldn't either. 

"You ready to head home?" Scott said suddenly. 

He craned his neck around to look at the gleaming control panels, their blinking lights shining as brightly as they should. There. Sorted. Given this was John, of course it was: he’d never leave Five anything less than gleaming. They could go home.

John paused, his movements dying down into unnatural stillness. He lifted his chin, looking Scott straight in the eye like he was presenting his case before a committee of the entire world judging him, instead of it only being them. 

"No."

The single word came out blunt anyway.

Scott tensed up. To leave without John… he couldn’t—

Scott forced himself to take a deep breath. John wasn't exactly making sense, but when it came to his oh so clever little brother, it was most often Scott who was missing part of the equation.

"You don't want to? Or is there something else?" he asked, hesitant. 

It was rare for John to be this thrown by anything. But then this wasn’t an everyday situation, or rather it never should’ve become one so ceaselessly.

“Jay, what’s going on?”

Scott didn’t know how not to worry.

"No!” John shook his head frantically. “No, I want to go home."

His hands flailed through the air as if he was trying to sketch out a diagram of the problem for Scott. They rose upwards before John brought them down fast, flicking them, flapping them in rapid, repeating succession.

It struck Scott how long it had been since John had let him see him do that. With came the piercing realisation of long since he’d been physically in front of John to see him. In front of a camera and across comms, John held his hands below the field of view unless one was delicately wrapped around his microphone.

A tiny piece of the tension eased. John took a deep, shuddering breath, placing his words deliberately: "Father told me to pack my bags. I'm not packed. So therefore I'm not ready.”

To leave without John… he couldn’t—

As Scott reached for him, out of an instinct to comfort his brother in any way he could, John flinched back. He flattened himself against the wall, limbs compressed inwards as if he wanted to to sink through the glass and disappear into the star punctured void outside. 

John had always had the talent of making himself small. Scott was the one here on Five who was too loud and out of place.

 “So therefore I can’t go home,” John murmured. Or rather he mumbled, barely audible syllables clinging to each other instead of cutting through the noise clear as day. Scott had nicknamed the latter as his newsreader's voice once upon a time, on a day they’d been messing about over the comms as each brother requested John do different voices and Jeff pretended to not hear. 

It was what the world heard of Thunderbird Five, through and through. But not all there was to him.

Scott's hands found their way into his own hair again, tugging at it. He hadn’t thought. Grabbing him into a hug wouldn’t work with John. Never had. Sometimes that meant Scott wasn’t sure what to do.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

This was unfair, so fundamentally unfair that Scott didn't know what to do with it. He wanted John, down on Earth for however long he needed, happy and safe, but this wasn't the kind of rescue where Scott could throw him over his shoulder and carry him out of the burning building. It wasn't that sort of strength Scott needed. 

What he needed was John’s own quiet strength, to calm and care for and carry people through to hope on only his voice. Yet what he had was himself.

[astranite]

ADHD SCOTT!!!!!

we should utilize procrastination in fic more often!! i love the idea of someone being like "oh i'll get to it later" about some project or another, then reaching the dead end shuffle. they're so stressed that they don't even realize they're sick until it gets pretty bad, but that doesn't matter anymore, because they can't just leave the project undone. they haven't even started it and everyone will know they procrastinated. so they gotta push through!!! maybe they pull it off and crash or collapse right after! maybe the quality suffers and people are mad or worried!! the possibilities!!!!

[your-dietician]

Drug Overdoses on the Rise as Top 10 Diagnoses Unveiled

New Post has been published on https://depression-md.com/drug-overdoses-on-the-rise-as-top-10-diagnoses-unveiled/

Drug Overdoses on the Rise as Top 10 Diagnoses Unveiled

Author – Search by Author –Adele L. Towers, MD, MPH, FACP Ahmed Abuabdou, M.D., MBAAlba Kuqi, MD, RHIA, CDIP, CCS, CSMC, CICA, CRCR, CCDS , CCMAlixis SmithAllen R. Frady, RN, BSN, CCS, CCDS and Rob Kopec, MDAllen R. Frady, RN, BSN, CCS, CCDS, AHIMA Approved ICD-10-CM/PCS TrainerAndrea Clark, RHIA, CCS, CPC-HAndres Jimenez, MDAndrew H. Dombro, MDAndrew N. Cohen, PhDAngela CarmichaelAngela Phillips, PTAnita Archer, CPCAnita Majerowicz, MS, RHIAAnny Pang Yuen, RHIA, CCS, CCDS, CDIPAutumn Reiter, BSN, RN, CCDS, CDIP, AHIMA-Certified ICD-10 TrainerBarbara Hinkle-Azzara, RHIABarry Libman, MS, RHIA, CDIP, CCS, CCS-P, CICBeth Friedman, RHIT, BSHABeth Wolf, MD, CPC, CCDSBetsy NicolettiBetty B. Bibbins, MD, BSN, CHC, C-CDI, CPEHR, CPHIT, CPHIMSBill Rifkin MD, FHM, FACPBilly Richburg, M.S., FHFMABonnie S. Cassidy, MPA, RHIA, FAHIMA, FHIMSSBrad JustusBrigid T. 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Camarano, MD, PhD, CPC, CDIP, CHCQMH. Steven Moffic, MDHeidi Hillstrom, MS, MBA, RN, PHN, CCDS, CCSHolly Louie, RN, BSN, CHBMEHugh KellyJacqueline J Stack, BSHA, CPC, CPC-I, CPB, CEMC, CFPC, CIMC, CPEDCJames JonesJanelle Ali-Dinar, PhD Janis OppeltJeffrey D. Lehrman, DPM, FASPS, MAPWCA, CPCJeffrey Epstein, MDJessica KatzJessica MaierJill FinnJoel Moorhead, MD, PhD, CPCJohn A. Updike MD, MPH, FACP and Debra L. Anoff, MD, FHM, FACPJohn Evensen, MBAJohn Foggle, MD, MBAJohn Pitsikoulis, RHIAJohn R. Irwin, AB, JD, BS, MD John WollmanJohn Zelem, MDJonathan LaFleur, BSN, RN, CCSJoseph C. Nichols, MDJoseph J. Gurrieri, RHIA, CHPJoyce Johnson, RHIA, CCS, AHIMA-Approved ICD-10-CM/PCS TrainerJulia K. Brodt, PhDJulie A. Dooling, MSHI, RHIA, CHDA, FAHIMAJulie A. Dooling, MSHI, RHIA, CHDA, FAHIMA and Melanie Endicott, MBA/HCM, RHIA, CDIP, CHDA, CPHI, CCS, CCS-P, FAHIMAJulie Boomershine, RHIA, CCS, CTR, CHDA, AHIMA-Approved ICD-10 Trainer; and Jessica Coleman, CCSJuliet A. Santos, MSN, CCRN, FNP-BCJuliet B. Ugarte Hopkins, MD, CHCQMJustine KuritzKaren Kinzle ZegelKaren Kinzle ZegelKathy Murchland, RHIA, CDIPKathy Pride, RHIT, CPC, CCS-P, CPMAKim Carr, RHIT, CCS, CDIP, CCDS, AHIMA-Approved ICD-10-CM/PCS TrainerKim Charland, BA, RHIT, CCSKim Reid, CPC, CPMA, CEMC, CPC-IKimberley Templeton, MDKnicole Emanuel Esq.Kris Knight, MBA, RHIAKrista JaroszewskiKristi Pollard, RHIT, CCS, CPC, CIRCC, AHIMA-Approved ICD-10-CM/PCS TrainerLamon Willis, CPCO, CPC-1, COC, CPC, AHIMA-Approved ICD-10-CM/PCS TrainerLaudine A. Markovchick, RHIT, CCSLaura Hayman RN, CDISLaura Legg, RHIT, CCS, CDIPLauri Gray, RHIT, CPCLaurie A. McBrierty, MLT ASCP, CICA Laurie M. Johnson, MS, RHIA, FAHIMA AHIMA Approved ICD-10-CM/PCS TrainerLeanne R. 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Wieczorek RN RHIT CPHQ Mikel HodgsonMira GoldsteinNate DueaNena Scott, MSEd, RHIA, CCS, CCS-P, CCDSNick van Terheyden, MD Odin MaylandPamela Charney, PhD, RDPamela P. Bensen, MD, MS, FACEP, AHIMA approved ICD-10-CM/PCS TrainerParesh K. ShahPatricia Trela, RHIAPatty T. Sheridan, MBA, RHIA, FAHIMA, and Valerie Watzlaf, PhD, MPH, RHIA, FAHIMAPaul Weygandt, MD, JD, MPH, MBA, CPEPiyush Mathur, MD, FCCM; Ahmad Maher Adi, MD; Brett Elo, DO; David Jury MD; Erica E. Remer, MD, FACEP, CCDSRachel Mack, RN, MSN, CCDS, CDIP Ralph Wuebker, MD, MBARebecca DeGrosky, RHITRebecca Gruszkos, LCSW, ACHP-SWReed D. Gelzer, MD, MPHRenee Stamp, CPC, COC, CPC-I, CPMARhonda Buckholtz, CPC, CPMA, CPC-I, CRC, CDEO, CHPSE, COPC, CPEDC, CGSCRhonda Taller, MHARobert S. Gold, MDRonald Hirsch, MDRose T. Dunn, MBA, RHIA, CPA, FACHE, FHFMA, CHPS, AHIMA-approved ICD-10-CM/PCS TrainerRudy Braccili, Jr.Sabrina Yousfi, MBA, RHIA, CDIP, CCSSally Streiber, BS, MBA, CPC, CEMASandra Draper, RHIT, CCSSandra L. 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Howe, RHIT, CCS, CASCC, and an AHIMA-Approved ICD-10-CM/PCS trainerTammy Combs, RN, MSN, CDIP, CCS, CCDSTerrance Govender, MD Terry Fletcher, BS, CPC, CCC, CEMC, CCS, CCS-P, CMC, CMSCS, CMCS, ACS-CA, SCP-CA, QMGC, QMCRCTerry MillerdThomas Ormondroyd, BS, MBATiffany Ferguson, LMSW, ACMTim BavosiTim McMullen, JD, CAETimothy Powell, CPATina Ferguson, RN, CCDSTorrey BarnhouseTracy Boldt, RN, BSN, CCDS, CDIPValerie Fernandez, MBA, CCS, CPC, CIC, CPMA, AHIMA-Approved ICD-10-CM/PCSValerie J. Watzlaf, PhD, MPH, RHIA, FAHIMAVictoria M. Hernandez, RHIA, CDIP, CCS, AHIMA-Approved ICD-10-CM/PCS TrainerVinita Manoraj, MD, CHCQMWilbur Lo, MD, CDIP, CCA, AHIMA-Approved ICD-10-CM/PCS TrainerWilliam L Jonakin, MD, CPC, CRC

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[idontknowreallywhy]

Another instalment of dinky Scott at School - I think there are (as yet unwritten) scenes in between these but I figured I’d get the key ones down then have a look and decide if it’s actually a story to flesh out or just a series of snapshots to leave as is.

Apologies to any actual teachers who may notice I am playing fast and loose with how such things might work in real life.

Disclaimer: Teeny Scooter does not actually appear in this bit, but is much discussed…

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

THE Jeff Tracy.

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t spent most of the night revising the 6 bullet points she wanted to cover in that one 12-minute parent-teacher conference. She’d quietly ensured the slot immediately afterwards was unbookable just in case things… overran.

None of the other teachers had met him, only the mother, who by all accounts was very pleasant. She hadn’t expected him to come, assuming he was probably on the moon or something equally intrepid. But the little box next to the number 2 had been ticked on the form so unless it was a grandparent or something…

The fancier biscuits she’d picked up from the store had just been a whim… sometimes she wanted to bring a bit of luxury into proceedings, that’s all it was…

Oh heck she’d bought fancy biscuits. Just like the hopeless fangirl she was. As if he’d notice anyway?

The first parent had noticed and seemed to enjoy their chocolate dipped Viennese finger biscuit. So it was worth it.

The second set of parents hadn’t turned up at all which left her with an agonising 18 minute wait.

It was fine. Just another PTC with some totally normal parents hoping to hear what a delight their precious offspring was. And she intended to thoroughly emphasise that part right at the outset because he really was.

The other notes she had would also be fine because she had considered every possible way of delivering them and had figured out the most persuasive.

All. Fine.

She needed another word for fine.

A gentle tap-de-tap and the door cracked open to reveal a waterfall of red hair and a very friendly face. Behind, even taller than he looked on tv, towered the man from the all those documentaries she’d binge-watched as a student.

Definitely just a normal PTC.

Felicity Miles, teacher, champion of tiny people, competent human, took a breath and greeted the couple with professional confidence and a welcoming smile.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

In the last five years she’d broken similar news to four other sets of parents, and observed her mentor do similar in her training year. Not a big enough sample to be conclusive but the fact the reaction had been the same each time had lulled her into a complacency about what to expect.

It went something like - shocked faces, initial denial, possibly a little anger, guilt that they hadn’t known, 3 of the mothers and 2 of the fathers had cried. Then, usually, she could see a little relief creeping in…. The hope that it hadn’t been something they’d got Wrong after all.

And then a brief conversation about what could happen next and arrangement of a meeting to discuss further when they’d had time to think. She’d hand them the department of education-approved info leaflets and smile and promise it would all be alright.

This one wasn’t going the way it should.

To start with there was zero surprise. Not even a flicker. In fact they’d looked at each other and smiled, before patiently listening to the rest of her little monologue. Right up until she started outlining the stages in the school’s neurodiversity support pathway at which point Mr Tracy had lifted a hand and cut in:

“There’ll be no need for anything formal. He’ll learn to manage his difficulties and he’ll overcome them.”

Felicity did her best to ignore the calm tone in his voice that simultaneously commanded she agree with him, advised it was a done deal not worth fighting against and reassured her that he was obviously right and it was all for the best. She pictured the desperate little human curled up in the Octopus House and tapped into the protective rage it generated:

“I don’t think you understand, Mr Tracy. A diagnosis would mean he could get that little bit of extra support he needs, perhaps a Teaching Assistant to keep him on track and help with refocussing when he gets distracted. He could have occasional time out on special programs to develop his interests, as I said he really does excel at maths and…”

“Ms Miles, please stop there a moment.”

She did so.

A few seconds later she remembered to close her mouth.

“Are you aware of what Scott wants more than anything in the world?”

She clenched her jaw in an effort not to snark back “a glimmer of self-esteem?” and thought about what seemed to make her zoomy little friend the happiest. The answer left her mouth before she was aware she knew it:

“He wants to fly.”

It was his mother who sighed and spoke next, the slight unevenness of her voice probably undetectable to someone who hadn’t spoken to a LOT of exhausted parents:

“He does. He always has from the moment he realised he couldn’t. Even before he really understood what airplanes were, he’s been fascinated by them and has been determined to reach the sky to join them. He seems to view gravity as a personal insult…” she chuckled then added “Being a parent to Scott Tracy is 90% catching him as he leaps from places he shouldn’t according to all the laws of physics be able to reach.”

Her husband reached over and squeezed her hand with an affectionate smile and added in a much softer tone:

“In his pram he watched the birds, it was the only thing that settled him. You won’t be surprised to learn that all of his bedroom decorations are aircraft-related. He’s not even remotely interested in space travel or what his mother and I do other than that we both flew planes first.”

Felicity could see it all but felt the conversation had gone off on a tangent. She took charge again and tried a different tack:

“But to achieve his goal he is going to need to have decent grades at the end of his education and the foundation of that starts here. He has so much potential and… look, I couldn’t give a damn about the class interruptions, please don’t think that is what this is about. I can handle all that, it’s what’s going on in his head, how he sees himself and I think we need to have something in place so that he and all his future teachers understand that… I hate to say it but for some, a formal diagnosis is the only way to persuade people that a child isn’t deliberately…”

“Ms Miles.”

The sigh escaped this time.

“Yes, Mr Tracy?”

“Do you happen to know the criteria one must fulfil to train as either a commercial airline or a military pilot?”

“Offhand? Not, precisely, no.”

“There is also an exclusionary list. Certain conditions, diagnoses, other events on a medical record that may prove to be a barrier to acceptance. Many people in the field don’t agree with everything on the list, but at the moment it exists. You’re clearly a smart woman, Ms Miles, and I can tell you’ve already worked out one of the conditions noted on that list.”

He wasn’t wrong. She hadn’t released her breath since the word ‘exclusionary’. But it forced its way out now in a quiet groan and then a whisper:

“ADHD.”

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

[bookclub4m]

Episode 112: Business Non-Fiction

This episode we’re discussing Business Non-Fiction! We talk about personality quizzes, questioning capitalism, fighting against productivity/the productivity trap, the rigourousness of professional degrees, (somehow on-topic) tangents, and how books can manage to disappoint us in new and bizarre ways. It’s got both silliness and existential dread in one episode!

You can download the podcast directly, find it on Libsyn, or get it through Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, Google Play, Spotify, or your favourite podcast delivery system.

In this episode

Anna Ferri | Meghan Whyte | Matthew Murray | RJ Edwards

Things We Read This Month

Salt Sugar Fat: How the Food Giants Hooked Us  by Michael Moss

Liar's Poker by Michael Lewis

Uncanny Valley  by Anna Wiener

No Hard Feelings: The Secret Power of Embracing Emotions at Work by Liz Fosslien and Mollie West Duffy

Joy at Work: Organizing Your Professional Life  by Marie Kondō and Scott Sonenshein

Soulbbatical: A Corporate Rebel's Guide to Finding Your Best Life by Shelley Paxton

Think. Do. Say.: How to Seize Attention and Build Trust in a Busy, Busy World  by Ron Tite

The Steal: A Cultural History of Shoplifting by Rachel Shteir

Different . . . Not Less: Inspiring Stories of Achievement and Successful Employment from Adults with Autism, Asperger's, and ADHD by Temple Grandin

The Art of Doing Business Across Cultures: 10 Countries, 50 Mistakes, and 5 Steps to Cultural Competence by Craig Storti

100 Side Hustles: Ideas for Making Extra Money  by Chris Guillebeau

Other  Media We Mentioned

The Art of War by Sun Tzu (Wikipedia)

What Color Is Your Parachute? A Practical Manual for Job-Hunters and Career-Changers by Richard Nelson Bolles

Who Moved My Cheese? by Spencer Johnson

Uncommon Grounds: The History of Coffee and How It Transformed Our World by Mark Pendergrast

The Kelloggs: The Battling Brothers of Battle Creek by Howard Markel

Rich Dad, Poor Dad by Robert T. Kiyosaki and Sharon Lechter

Episode 015 - Self Help

The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: Powerful Lessons in Personal Change by Stephen R. Covey

The Paradox of Choice: Why More Is Less by Barry Schwartz

The Great Beanie Baby Bubble: Mass Delusion and the Dark Side of Cute by Zac Bissonnette

Eat That Frog!: 21 Great Ways to Stop Procrastinating and Get More Done in Less Time by Brian Tracy

Leaders Eat Last by Simon Sinek

The Poison Squad: One Chemist's Single-Minded Crusade for Food Safety at the        Turn of the Twentieth Century by Deborah Blum

The Poison Squads: The Stupid, Risky First Food Safety Tests (SciShow)

Grocery: The Buying and Selling of Food in America by Michael Ruhlman

Do Nothing: How to Break Away from Overworking, Overdoing, and Underliving by Celeste Headlee 

The Good University: What Universities Actually Do and Why It's Time for Radical Change by Raewyn Connell

The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work by Alain de Botton

More Than Enough: Claiming Space for Who You Are (No Matter What They Say) by Elaine Welteroth

The $100 Startup: Reinvent the Way You Make a Living, Do What You Love, and Create a New Future by Chris Guillebeau

Links, Articles, and Things

Ask a Manager

Quantified self (Wikipedia)

Herpetology (Wikipedia)

“the branch of zoology concerned with the study of amphibians (including frogs, toads, salamanders, newts, and caecilians (gymnophiona)) and reptiles (including snakes, lizards, amphisbaenids, turtles, terrapins, tortoises, crocodilians, and the tuataras)”

15 Business Non-Fiction Books by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) Authors

Every month Book Club for Masochists: A Readers’ Advisory Podcasts chooses a genre at random and we read and discuss books from that genre. We also put together book lists for each episode/genre that feature works by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) authors. All of the lists can be found here.

The Color of Money: Black Banks and the Racial Wealth Gap by Mehrsa Baradaran

Eat a Peach by David Chang

Fight or Submit: Standing Tall in Two Worlds by Ronald Derrickson

Drop the Ball: Achieving More by Doing Less by Tiffany Dufu

The Token: Common Sense Ideas for Increasing Diversity in Your Organization by Crystal Byrd Farmer

It's About Damn Time: How to Turn Being Underestimated Into Your Greatest Advantage by Arlan Hamilton

Black Wall Street: From Riot to Renaissance in Tulsa's Historic Greenwood District by Hannibal B. Johnson

Indigenous Relations: Insights, Tips & Suggestions to Make Reconciliation A Reality by Robert Joseph

The Work: My Search for a Life That Matters by Wes Moore

Reset: My Fight for Inclusion and Lasting Change by Ellen Pao

The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters by Priya Parker

Great American Outpost: Dreamers, Mavericks, and the Making of an Oil Frontier by Maya Rao

How to be a Bawse by Lilly Singh

Race for Profit: How Banks and the Real Estate Industry Undermined Black Homeownership by Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor

Making of a Manager: What to Do When Everyone Looks to You by Julie Zhuo 

Suggest new genres or titles!

Fill out the form to suggest a genre or title!

Check out our Tumblr, follow us on Twitter or Instagram, join our Facebook Group, or send us an email!

Join us again on Tuesday, November 17th we’ll be doing Readers’ Advisory and trying to come up with holiday gifts for each other!

Then on Tuesday, December 1st we’ll be discussing the genre that you chose for us: New Weird Fiction!

[idontknowreallywhy]

I did it a little bit in this one…

That's something a Tracy brother would have on a cup or a tee-shirt:

The likeliest Tracy brother is Virgil, but also quite possibly Scott (though they clearly try to curate/cut off his coffee intake after 4 pm).

[princeescaluswords]

Nonsense Roundup - Part 1

In which I dispense with the nonsense clogging my inbox.

1. Stiles may have ADHD, PTSD, and panic attacks, but he still knows the difference between right and wrong.   This does not mean he gets to do what the hell he wants when the hell he wants to.  It doesn’t make him immune to criticism.   It doesn’t excuse his behavior.   I will continue to criticize him when and if I feel like it, and that doesn’t make me ableist.  Scott suffers from depression with suicidal ideation, but you certainly won’t excuse him from anything.

2.  Scott didn’t bite Hayden because she was dying, and he thought she was too weak to survive it, so he called his mother instead.  It is part of the show’s canon that the bite isn’t a magical cure-all.   In canon, werewolves give the bite to teenagers because they’re healthy and strong to survive it and even then it doesn’t always work.  He didn’t “let a girl die because he didn’t want to bite her.”  It’s not a terrible action to pursue the best course of judgment rather than the idea of a besotted teenager who had been manipulated by a villain.

3.  Someone needs to read up on ethics.   The only person responsible for Josh’s and Tracy’s second death is Theo.   Deucalion didn’t stop him, but he didn’t help either.  Deucalion just told Theo how to take their power.  If you kidnap me to teach you how to shoot a gun, and you take that gun and kill people, I’m not responsible.  Scott certainly isn’t responsible, because the chimeras were looking for Deucalion anyway.  He simply warned his ally and worked with him to stop Theo’s plan for absorbing the Beast’s power.  To blame Scott for Tracy’s and Josh’s death gives a new definition to the word “reaching.”   If you’re so vehement on this, tell me what Scott should have done.

[astranite]

Edges of the Universe: Part 2

Scott and John :)

Part 1 // Ao3

The tags in summary: Hurt/Comfort, this is what it is fundamentally but we do dive into the angst and the fluff, Autistic John Tracy, Scott Tracy has ADHD, Scott Tracy Has PTSD, Autistic meltdowns, References to Depression, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Chronic Illness, that's how i'm treating John's space issues, this is all written from a disability and neurodiversity lens and lot of my own experience, there's alot going on but there's also alot of love here, and acceptance, its about hope its always about hope ultimately, things are hard and they wont just fix themselves but it does get better, we just have to keep hanging on. all of us you and me together, its not a straight line there are alot of up and downs and emotions in this fic, as in life and everything because thats whats its like but its not impossible

@idontknowreallywhy thank you for all.

---

“You alright?” Scott asked, “And I’ve brought takeaway if you’re feeling up to it.” 

“‘S only a headache,” John mumbled.

Scott’s hand gripped his shoulder more firmly. “Seems like some headache, Johnny.”

“Don’t.” 

John couldn't handle even the gentle ribbing right now. Or Scott needling him about what the hell was wrong with him to make him admit to it, which was pretty hypocritical coming from Commander ‘I’m actively bleeding out but I’m Fine.’

John sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. That wasn't fair on Scott. He was getting better at letting them in when it was needed. All the smothering came from a good place of looking out for little brothers prone to getting themselves into trouble, and John also had a history of being less than honest about exactly how ‘Fine’ he was.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard of the bed as the blurry dark crowded in at the corners of his vision at the rush of his blood pressure dropping. Because he, Thunderbird Five, head of communications for IR and an astronaut breaking records for space hours and expertise, had really pushed himself today. Went totally wild with it. He had, he checked his mental notes, landed on Tracy Island yesterday evening, sat in the passenger seat of Tracy One as Scott did all the flying to get here and immediately clocked out as soon as they got to the hotel. Then attempted to attend a meeting today. Wild, he bit out in sharp, sarcastic thoughts. Maybe that ignored the busy week he’d already pushed through. Even if he usually had to rest the day after the rough descent down from orbit because that was what his body needed and that was meant to be okay.

John reached over to flick on one of the bedside lamps to make it easier on Scott. He squinted in the brightness but it was better than the main light. In the background was the rustle of biodegradable bags and the distinctive snap of takeaway containers being opened: Chinese, from the place he and Scott had really liked the last time they were here, predictable so he wouldn't have to deal with trying something new.

Objectively, the food smelled good but John’s stomach turned. He spent several amusing minutes poking at his noodles, trying to figure out whether it was merely his usual space issues or he was coming down with something.

Scott bumped his shoulder ever so gently. “I got the not too spicy ones for you in case you weren’t feeling so good.”

“Thanks, Scott.” John’s voice came tiny and squeezed out. 

He picked up a mouthful and they were okay, it was him that was at the point of so hungry he was nauseous, and Scott had realised that he hadn't had lunch or dinner and made sure to bring back food John would like. Because he was thoughtful and he cared, and John had the best big brother so why did that make him want to cry?

They ate in silence. Companionable silence. It was kinda nice actually, just sharing space with Scott.

John did not cry all over his brother and his noodles. He would’ve gotten his tablet to read on and distract himself except he’d need his glasses which were in his bag, though he could turn up the font size, except the headache made staring into a bright screen currently unpalatable, so the entire point was moot.

He tipped his head back, resting it on the wall, then turned to Scott.

Scott had scoffed his entire meal far too quickly, shovelling noodles into his mouth with his set of chopsticks, whilst scrolling on his phone. Hair falling out of its careful gelling, top buttons of his blue business shirt undone, meeting out of the way and laughing at something inane, he seemed far more relaxed than this morning. Share space with Scott was nice because he too rarely got to.

John looked away. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping an arm around them, rocking slightly before it made him too dizzy. He stared off around the room, mostly to keep himself from giving in to the urge to worry at the numb, hollow wound in his thoughts. To map out its shape and form, going over it like the hole left by a pulled tooth. To not drag himself into a John classic overthinking spiral, and attempt to ground himself or whatever. 

The room. Too much beige. Carpet, curtains, walls, really what were they thinking? 

John liked colour. He’d chosen the stripes running throughout Thunderbirds Five and his bright orange baldric with the matching narrower lines through his uniform on purpose. They broke up the monotony of whites and greys space stations were far too prone to and he soaked it up, everything from the stickers and few books in his little room to the colour coded holotabs that displayed each of his siblings’ vitals. Bright and vivid, they reminded him of alive, alive, alive. 

Here, even the abstract painting was nearly monochrome. Virgil would have a lot to say but John could only muster a vague disgust towards it. Or maybe it was mostly his mood turning to harshly critical.The place was nice enough, clean and neat, nearest to TI. They didn't need fancy. 

Hints of the darkened evening view shone through the gaps between the curtains in the form of city lights. John had watched the sunset in hours previous briefly paint the dimness of the room through slitted eyelids. 

There had been the colour he wanted, but he’d ignored it instead of opening the curtains up to the light like he usually would in lieu of visible stars. He had stared at the wall, drifting in his thoughts amongst the achy pain and exhaustion instead of choosing to do literally anything else.

And here he was overthinking, doing exactly what he wasn't supposed to be doing. Fantastic job, John.

Doors to the hallway and bathroom, both shut, John listed. Lamp on Scott’s bedside table, dark grey, not black, switched off.

The blue blanket Scott brought everywhere lay as a bright splash on top of the covers of Scott’s bed, a familiar sight no matter where they were.

They didn't have to share a room, with the large beds on each side where John took the one nearest the window under claim it would be better for the stargazing he wouldn't do because of the light pollution but would make Scott edgy from feeling too exposed and too far from the exits. His brother’s face had crumpled in relief before he’d gleefully bounced on his bed like he was totally still five, as John laughed with him. 

With their money they could easily afford two, could get the frankly a waste of money whole penthouse suite of rooms, but they didn't need to. And it was nice to be close.

He and Scott hadn't regularly shared a room since before Alan had been born, and John was fully aware that as adults it would drive them both mad within a week, but on the occasional business trip or even rarer holiday, it was nice. Waking up disorientated and jet lagged in the middle of last night, he’d fallen back to sleep to big brother’s calm, even breathing. Plus Scott could look over and reassure himself at least John was here and okay, as substitute for checking in on all his little brothers before he turned in.

…it had actually been a bit after Alan had been born that the rooms had been shuffled. When it had been Mum and Dad and baby Allie he had to sneak past to go stargaze outside for a few months until Alan was big enough and got the cot, sharing a room with Gordon. Then it was him and Virgil so Scott as the eldest, encouraged by Dad, could have his own room. 

Virgil was a lot quieter and less prone to dragging him into crazy schemes, and John had loved sharing a room with him, of course he did, but something had still ached as he helped take Scott’s aeroplane posters down from between his glow in the dark stars to put them up on bare blue walls that smelt of new paint. Virgil had never woken up when John went to stargaze, no matter what he tripped over or how much he swore, so he never came with him on those forbidden midnight trips either. Scott had. 

But after Mum, because John was evidently all for following miserable trains of thought tonight, Scott technically had still shared a room with them. Just when no one, especially Dad, would notice. John had woken up to the door opening after everyone else was asleep each night to Scott tiptoeing in to curl up on the floor between his and Virgil’s beds, wrapped in the blue baby blanket that had been Allie’s until it was put away but had originally been knitted by Mum for Scott.

John had always shuffled over to make room for Scott beside him. Scott shouldn’t be alone, he wasn't meant to be alone but everyone had known that evidently except for Dad. He’d always woken up at dawn when Scott left too…

Scott’s hand back on his shoulder startled him, and between the flinch he barely processed the worried, “Earth to John?” 

A wave of dizziness hit and John buried his head in his knees. 

“Sorry,” John mumbled.

“No apologies needed.”

Scott gently took the container of noodles out of his hand which he was holding and had kinda forgotten about, even as the pointed edges dug into his palm. John’d only managed half of his before he had to put it aside. Maybe later, if he got over the nausea. 

Scott held out an arm, giving John the option of being pulled into a hug. He swallowed and shuffled closer, then leant against Scott.