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sknnyvanilla · 2 months ago

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The Chic Diet by kit olsen

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Diets

The Baby Food Diet

Ohmigod, tell me more, right? Enter: the Baby Food Diet.

You don't have to chew anything since the blender did that for you. Portion control won't be an issue either since all of the stores carry single-servings with really low calorie counts. And, like, I guess that babies need clean and well-rounded food or something because, like, all of the ingredients are things that you've heard before and are actually good for you. It's like a juice fast, but with a little more substance and a little less lawnmower drippings. But, like, waaay more affordable, so you can use all of the money that you save on some flavored Pedialyte, which is really just like a zero-calorie coconut water.

Plus, thanks to all of the crazy and demanding yoga mommies decked out in Lululemon with their obscenely expensive strollers, Whole Foods has really upped their game in the baby food aisle. There's seriously a flavour for whatever type of mood that you might be in so don't even worry about the lack of variety. It's like chic girl heaven. Make sure you get there early though, so you won't have to fight with the colicky toddler in the Missoni Bugaboo over the last "zucchini banana & amaranth."

Ella's Kitchen and Plum Organics are good for your basic blends of fruits and vegetables, but I swear that the marketing team at Earth's Best was targeting chic/orthorexic adults when naming their product lines. "Antioxidant Blends?" "Super Fruits?" "Gourmet Meals and Seasonal Harvest?" Um, yea, okay. Like 6 month olds care about that kind of shit.

So, apparently, Tracy Anderson (bless her heart) suggests that one should consume 14 jars per day. Um, no. It's not like we're headed into famine or something. A couple of jars or pouches should suffice and, even then, you should be watching your carb intake. That means NO all-fruit blends, you fat fuck. Make sure to pick vegetable-heavy varieties, though those can be sugarific also. I mean, even "spinach + apple + rutabagas" has 8 grams of carbs after adjusting for fibre. Ugh. Who knew that babies were such sugar whores? It's just, like, really unfair for all of the other customers who are trying to watch their figures.

Take a good look at Abbey Lee Kershaw and Hedi Slimane. See their jutting cheekbones and bulging eyeballs? Yours can totally be like that too, so long as you're willing to adhere to the uber cutesy diet that these two effortlessly chic Skeletors have been known to follow.

Now, everyone that knows that digestion isn't very glamorous. The act of mastication is, in itself, so very vulgar, and then that nasty bolus of caloric horror settles into your distended stomach, stirring up a whirlwind of has and discomfort as it waits for hours to be broken down. After that harrowing process, a trillion fat globules get sent directly to your upper arms and inner thighs. And then, well, you know... something really un-chic happens in le toilette.

But what if you could bypass all of that unpleasantry and just follow a really adorable diet that consists of only a few hundred calories a day? And, like, your stomach will stay flat since it's not filled with festering kale and noxious fumes.

The Air Diet

Every wannabe Carrie Bradshaw (or Charlotte York if you're really annoying) yearns to achieve maximal chicness with minimal effort. And nobody can do posh like the French, right? Even their diets ooze superior elegance that we ugly Americans could only aspire to attain.

Like, take the Air Diet, or L'Air Fooding as French Grazia dubbed it. God, even the name is so chic, I DIE. So anyway, you basically pretend to eat whatever the hell you want, without actually allowing it touch your lips. Naysayers and physicians will be like, "Ohmigod, that's called anorexia!", but, um, no. Anorexia is what my roommate, Sydney, has, and she won't even go near food without having a twitching episode. This is, like, a lot healthier psychologically.

I mean, I totally get it. Everyone knows that enjoying food is an experience and this diet allows you to immerse yourself in the whole process until the actual eating part. But you still get to order your meal, pay for it, cut it up, smell the aromas, and Instagram pictures of your drool-worthy plate. You just don't absorb all of the calories and fat associated with ingesting the actual food. It's like you're a chic French diet mime who traded eating for the right to talk. Ooh, maybe you can buy a really cute. A.P.C. striped shirt to go with your performance. So authentic.

It's not like you don't eat at all, either. You still get to binge on all of the la soupe a l'eau (translation: chic soup with an uber pretentious name) that you want. Oh, you want to know what's in it> Um, I had the recipe right here. Hold on. Oh, here it is. Boiled water and sea salt. Hm. But sea salt has, like, a lot of minerals in it, right? How nutritious.

So, yea. It seems like the majority of my friends have been on this diet for a really long time. Like even before that issue came out. What trendsetters. I mean, it's a great way for cutting calories, you know? As a bonus, it's not even restrictive! Like, you can help yourself to all of the fancily named soup and air that you want. And, like, a variety of air at that. Just stroll through the perfume section at Barney's or traipse through Le Labo when you're feeling bored with the plain, bourgeoisie oxygen around you. And if you're feeling especially ravenous (um, binge eating disorder, anyone?) you can practice some yoga breathing. It's like dietary meditation. Kay, now Ocean Breath, everyone.

The Paleo Diet

While cavemen might not have been very fashion-forward, they apparently knew how to be skinny motherfuckers. The Museum of Natural History really needs to slim down the mannequins in the exhibit to reflect this don't you think? So inaccurate. Anyway, this hunter-gatherer-centric diet is very simple in that it has one rule- only eat shit that Betty Flinstone would have prepared.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with history, this means that Kettle Chips and peanut butter are no-goes. Anything processed, such as Lean Cuisines, or foods that require relatively modern technology to produce, such as grains, are not allowed. Neither are dairy products, refined sugars, legumes, potatoes, processed oils or alcohol. Yup, even alcohol. No, they did not have "Stone Age" vodka or sugar-free "Bedrock" Red Bull back then. Yes, I am positive.

Anyway, you're basically allowed to have wild seafood, organic eggs, grass-fed game, vegetables, fruits and some nuts. The idea behind this style of eating is that humans, as a species, have not greatly evolved since the era of our cave dwelling ancestors. That is, our digestive systems are largely genetically similar to those of dinosaurs and are still not fully adapted to the vast changes in diet that have occurred since the dawn of the agricultural age. Simply put, we're not that great at digesting the majority of the shit foods that line supermarket shelves today. Yes, even the shelves at Whole Foods.

By following the palaeolithic diet, however, we would be providing our bodies with ideal foods to which our digestive systems are genetically adapted, When we are better able to process and absorb nutrients from these easily digested foods, we would be more capable of achieving optimal health.

But who really cares about primal strength and surly shit like that? Not me or any of my friends, despite the fact that everyone I know has "gone Paleo." What we love about this diet is the amount of control and restriction that it provides the user. You can basically reject most foods so long as you can come up with some inane reason as to why. "I'm only channeling cavewomen who lived in the Northern Hemisphere, and I don't think those were native to that region," you can say with a dismissive sniff as you swat away a platter of seasonal stone fruit. Um, apricots have a lot of carbs, didn't you know?

Plus, the diet itself is just really trendy. It's like the new Dukan Diet, which was originally the new Atkins, which was basically the new Cabbage Soup Diet. You'll probably be consuming the same meals that you normally are, but can now affix the hip label of "Paleo" to your dietary habits. But don't do that shit where you put goat's milk butter in your coffee or inhale bushels of avocados in one sitting- no=carb calories are still calories, after all.

The Ridiculously Low Carb Diet

In the world of the chic, all of the inhabitants are consumed with keeping their carb intakes as close to zero as humanly possible. Throw any generic food product at a chic girl and she can spit back its estimated carbohydrate content in mere seconds. And, as if she were a neurologist treating childhood epilepsy, she knows the ins and outs of the ketogenic diet like the back of her Rodin Crema slathered hand.

Though she may have no idea what mitosis is, or how photosynthesis works, ant legitimate chic girl could pass a PhD-level Nutrition exam with flying colours. "In order to get into a state of ketosis, you need to deplete the glycogen stores in your liver and muscles before even tapping into your fat energy sources. To do that, you have to keep your net carbohydrate intake below 25 grams a day," she will prattle off expertly, though she may not even have the faintest idea what she is actually talking about.

Basically, she knows that the lower your carbohydrate intake, the more fat you will end up burning. Thus, being the borderline-psychotic overachiever that she is, she will set an upper limit of approximately 5 grams of net carbohydrates per day for herself.

Plus, carbs are totes unnecessary. No one has ever looked cute while gorging on a slice of pizza or inhaling a burrito. But nibbling on a piece of asparagus or noshing on a sliver of pecorino is just adorbs. They're like low glycaemic pieces de resistance that compliment your Zac Posen cocktail dress. Bread used to be the official food of peasants, just so you know.

"I only eat foods that are green or white," were the first words that my soon-to be-future roommate, Lauren, ever muttered to me. No mention of her name, age or hometown- nothing. That's how seriously a true chic girl take her carbohydrate consumption- it defines who she is.

"What do you mean?" I had asked innocently like a clueless martian. Mind you, I still wore leggings and thought Greek Yogurt parfaits were healthy at the time. (I know, I know- don't judge me.)

Lauren, bless her heart, had then taken me under her wing, expertly gu8iding me into my current status of perpetual ketosis. We basically subsist on kale, spinach, avocado, egg whites, cheese, white fish and chicken breasts. And what can I say? I'm obsessed. The far just melted off like butter (which is totally allowed, by the way.) Like, I never want to belong to any other metabolic state of mind. It's just so simple, and everyone's doing it. I mean, just saunter into a Fashion Week after party and it'll reek of Chanel Chance and ketones. So chic.

So you can go the high fat route a la Atkins, or limit your fat consumption in the way of Dukan practitioners. Either way, you'll lose the flab and be super taut. But you can never go wrong with the Green and White Diet, the secret weapon of fashionistas in the know. And, while trends may come and go, there is one combination that will always be in style- ketosis breath and look of death. #Chic

The Strategic Starvation Diet

"You just don't eat for, like 18 hours a day," the chic girl will explain when concerned friends inquire about her new stringent diet du jour. "But you totally get to have balanced meals for the other 6! It was on the news. They tested it on mice and they, like, totally lived longer. Ew."

Intermittent fasting is like a godsend for the chic. Apparently, it's actually really healthy and has a bunch of scientific studies published to back it up. Not that the chic girl will ever read them, of course. But if positive results actually exist, then there's actually something to validate her cray.

I mean, what kind of diet condones extended periods of starvation? It's as if this way of eating was made up specifically with the chic bitches in mind. Not to mention that i's supposedly uber effective! Like, in clinical trials, researchers found that overweight participants how utilized intermittent fasting lost way more fat than those who ate the same meals spread throughout the day. I knew that whole "6 mini meals a day" adage was total bullshit!

Of course, the chic girl is just an extreme case of human, so she'll narrow her eating window to 2 hours or so. Some deranged bitches may even aim for 20 minutes! Talk about efficiency.

There's an even wackier version of this method that's been named the "Bulletproof Diet," whatever that means. Basically, you drink black coffee with butter or coconut oil stirred in so that you don't get hungry while in your fasted state. Um, that sounds like a lot of unnecessary calories. And chic girls don't get plagued with hunger- we like to refer to it as "getting of track.: Lile, seriously? Drinking butter> That's not even real fasting. People have no willpower nowadays.

Supporters of this way of eating suggest that people snack on healthy foods during their feeding periods, like bananas and apples. Um, bananas are super starchy. And apples? Did you know that apples don't actually have much nutritional value> The only real benefit that comes form apples is from pectin, which will help to regulate digestion. but since chic girls already consume astronomical amounts of fibre, they won't be receiving many benefits from munching on apples. They can totally get their Vitamin C from elsewhere. Ohmigod, you're learning, like, so much from me. This might as well be a textbook!

I suggest that you nibble on a piece of cheese or some veggies during your allotted eating time. That way, you can totally maximize ketosis and burn as much fat as fucking possible. I mean, Emily Blunt's character in The Devil Wears Prada totally knew what she was doing. She was just way ahead of her time. Like, don't you want to be one stomach fu away from sample size too?

The Raw Food Diet

This one's for the extremists, of which there are many in the upper echelons of the chic. Basically, you stick to a diet of uncooked veggies all day long, with the occasional piece of fruit thrown in. As expected, these bitches are skinny as fuck and look great in just about anything. They also absorb, like, maximal nutrients and have beautiful skin and hair. Plus, they get to lecture and judge others all day long about the importance of enzymes and whatnot. These skinny twigs can also consume bushels of allowed foods and still keep their daily calorie counts in the hundreds. Totes ideal, if you can stomach it, I mean. But have you ever tried raw broccoli or mushrooms? Ew.

If you've lost all sensory input from your taste buds, as can happen when on frightening amount of amphetamines, this is the perfect lifestyle for you. You can be like a super svelte panda bear and nosh on stalks of celery or fistfuls of curly kale all day. You'll lose heaps of weight and will have a spotless digestive tract, I'm sure. Just be proactive about taking, like, 15 Beano with each meal. Gas isn't cute, even if it's being caused by adorable produce like grape tomatoes and baby carrots.

Some people will get all technical and allow themselves to have sashimi, but staunch raw foodists will shake their heads at this practice. I don't see what's wrong with it, especially since sushi is, like, so yum. Anyway, soaked nuts and sprouted seeds are allowed, but make sure to watch how much you eat. They're still packed with calories and, this, aren't totally conducive to rapid fat obliteration.

People on the raw food diet love to chirp about mental clarity and feelings of euphoria, but I think that they're just really happy because they can slip into Gareth Pugh leather leggings without putting up a struggle. I highly doubt that weeping into bowls of raw radicchio and consuming bland vegetables dressed in the salt of my tears would make me feel vibrant and more alive. I mean, I would be completely ecstatic about sticking to a strict diet of copper pennies and shards of glass if it, too, left me with a 3-inch thigh cap. But to each her own, I suppose.

It's also well known that a lot of working models are technically raw foodies since they basically just consume cauliflower smoothies and piles of wilted spinach. No wonder they always look so sad. But have you seen their hip bones? Um, yea.

So I totally just ordered a raw organic vegan Kale Dulse Salad and a cold-pressed coffee from Seamless. They better fucking hurry before all the nutrients break down. Ooh, do you think calories can break down over time too? Let's hope so. Enzymes, here I come!

The One Food Diet

Basically, anyone who lacks even a smidgen of self-control should consider this dietary tactic. It allows no leeway for excuses or exceptions so long as you follow just one simple rule: consume only one type of food.

When you define vague dietary rules, such as allowing low-carb or liquid items, you'll find that the hungry fatass within will convince herself that certain foods fit the guidelines. I mean, butterscotch pot de creme is technically liquid, right? And an entire stick of butter covered in guacamole is totes low-carb. Inhaling, like, three bowls of blood orange sorbet doesn't constitute cheating on a raw food diet, either...

Stop. Just stop. You obvi have issues with following rules, oh voracious one. Technicalities are just fancy excuses for the dietarily inept, and one shouldn't be allowed to make risky, body composition-altering decisions when starving and delirious. So do as the OCD-inflicted waifs do and pick one food with which to thoroughly familiarize yourself to the point of disgust for the next two weeks.

You won't have to waste time obsessing over meal planning or calculating nutritional contents. It's basically like putting your diet on auto-pilot ass you graze on your one allowed food in a fat-shedding haze. Honestly, yo can pick whatever you want, since you'll likely get sick of it as time goes on. Like, did you know that Uma Thurman once went on an ice cream diet? She lost 25 pounds over a six-week period. On ice cream. ON ICE CREAM.

Now, I don't suggest that you pick the congealed, sweetened mucus of dairy cows as your food of choice, as that' s just, like, not really a good starting point. Pick something like tomatoes, or green apples, or avocados, Bananas and grapes work also, but do keep in mind that they are quite high in sugar. My personal choices are either eggs or grapefruit with Splenda. Whatever you choose, make sure to stick with it. That's all there is to it.

Some proponents believe that partaking in the consumption of only one type of food allows your body to become more efficient at digesting and metabolizing it, but I'm not sure. I mean, I guess it makes sense. But who really gives a fuck about all of that health-boosting mumbo jumbo? The real reason that this diet is so attractive and effective is because it helps to teach you a lesson in discipline and restraint. By sticking to this diet for just a short while, you'll see that you're more than capable of controlling yourself when it comes to impulsive food-related decisions.

It's like dietary therapy, but without having to visit an overpriced psychiatrist who just nods along and asks you obvious questions about how you feel about that time you ate a lobster roll. Um, I feel like shit, okay? You didn't need to remind me. That's why I'm allowing myself zucchini slices for the next month, duh.

The Two Cup Diet

Did you know that your stomach is only the size of your fist? So why are you stuffing it until you can't breathe? Um, I don't care if you're a firm believer in Volumetrics- that method only works if you're feasting on organic iceberg lettuce and sparkling water.

Now, getting a bariatric surgery done costs roughly $30,000. Trust me, I went to go get an estimate. The doctor was actually really rude and scoffed at me during the consultation, which I really took offense to. He was all, "Um, you know that this is for, like, clinically obese people, right?" So I was like, "Er, yea. It's called preventative medicine, natch." And then he, like, totally rolled his eyes at me and said in a condescending tone, "You obvi don't qualify for the procedure, especially since your BMI totes falls into the underweight category. Sorrz." I'm not an expert in medical law or anything, but I think that's called discrimination. Horrible bedside manner, not to mention illegal, no? I really need to call my dad's attorney about this.

Anyway, my friend, Melissa, found a totally cheap alternative to getting your stomach stapled until it's the size of a walnut. She learned it from a group of 14 year old Latvian models that she shared a room with during Milan Fashion Week. You basically take two tiny Dixie cups and fill them with whatever food you might please, though preferably of the low-calorie, low-carb and low-fat variety. Then you can enjoy your mini feast without worrying about portion control. It takes the stomach roughly four hours to empty, so you can set an alarm on your iPhone for four hour intervals to remind you of when you're allowed to have another two cups. Um, genius, right? And who said that teenaged models needed to stay in school to have good heads on their shoulders?

Don't abuse this system by using the red plastic cups of beer pong infamy, though. You're not an obese retired frat boy living it up in Murray Hill. By Dixie cups, I'm referring to the uber cutesy 3 oz. waxed paper ones that are meant for gargling in the bathroom. If you want to take it to the next level, you can also use tiny utensils, like oyster forks, to slow down your consumption and increase satiety. There w as this one girl that I interned with who carried around a tiny Tiffany & Co. silver baby spoon with her everywhere. Totally crazy, yet totally chic. Did I mention that she weighed, like, 85 pounds?

So who cares if you look like an unhinged betch for scarfing down tiny bites of wild mushroom fricassee from a mouthwash-delivery vessel using a toddler's fork? You'll be laughing all the way past the antiseptic-scented waiting room of a really rude weight loss surgeon's shabbily decorated Upper East Side clinic while your critics slowly begin to qualify for Lap-band installation. Um, who said that preventative medicine had to cost a year's worth of college tu8ition? People with no self-control, obvi.

The HCG Diet

Only a batshit cray person would willingly stab herself repeatedly while wincing and bellowing in pain, right? Um, yes, but that mentally unstable waif wielding the 25 gauge needle sure is tiny. Enter the HCG Diet, a regimen in which one is required to inject oneself with a variety of vitamins and hormones while subsisting on a maximum of 500 calories per day. HCG, or Human Chorionic Gonadotrophin, is basically a hormone produced by pregnant women soo after conception for... I don't know. The guy who came up with the idea to implement it in a weight loss regimen said that it suppresses your appetite and helps with fat loss, or whatever. Anyway its use as a weight loss agent is, like, really frowned upon by the FDA, which everyone knows must mean that it totally works. Like, remember ephedra? And phentermine? Uh, yea.

It's really easy. You basically follow an ultra low-calorie, low-carbohydrate, low fat, high-protein diet (uh, don't we regardless?) and give yourself daily injections of Vitamin B-12 and HCG in your hips and thighs, respectively. A physician or medical professional has to hand then over, so expect to pay a pretty penny (or 60 thousand) for a three-week program. If you're feeling super ambitious, you can also drag the whole thing our for six weeks!

Everyone will be like, "Er, of course you're losing weight. You're only eating 500 calories each day!" Ohmigod, really? Thanks for the news flash. I totally didn't know that. Um, of course anyone will lose weight on a 500-calorie diet, you observant twats. But who (other than an anorexic ballerina) actually has the discipline to stick to those numbers? Uh, a really chic girl who just blew one week's pay on dietary heroin, that's who.

So even if HCG isn't actually clinically proven to assist with fat loss or appetite suppression, who really cares? Even if you had spent hundreds of dollars on sterile syringes filled with Flinstones vitamins diluted in Diet Sprite, you would still have an obligation to stick to the accompanying regimen. I';s called financial responsibility, people!

But, oh Chic One, how come we can't just use the homeopathic drops that they sell on Amazon? I don't want to hurt myself, you say. I really don't like needles, you cry out. Um, in case you haven't been paying attention, there's a concept called "No Pain, A Lotta Gain." And it's just, like, totes legit? I mean, just because you rub to botulism toxin all over your skin doesn't mean that you're going to do skit about your crow's feet or laugh lines. You're just going to have a really dirty face. But inject some Botox all up in those crevices? Um, hello Bruce Jenner!

Besides, didn't you know that "homeopathic" is just Latin for "faker than a Canal Street Kurakami Multicolore Monogram Speedy 25?" Ew.

The Cabbage Soup Diet

"I lost, like, 10 pounds in 3 days," the chic girl will announce with widened eyes to all of her entranced comrades. "I didn't even know that I had that much to lose!"

Going on the cabbage soup diet is akin to complaining about having to fly home for the holidays or binge drinking over Memorial Day Weekend- it's just ingrained in American culture. Eating disordered betches of yore have passed this timeless diet on from generation to generation and, as unglamorous as it may be, it still prevails as a magic bullet of sorts to this day. So when you need to get skinny stat, show a little patriotic spirit and boil up a giant vat of cabbage and under-seasoned water. Your tummy won't thank you, but your thigh gap sure will.

You can binge if you'd like, but I'm sure you won't want to. The soup isn't particularly enthralling to the taste buds, but the parboiled vegetables will help to satisfy the vacuous pit that is your empty stomach. And, even if you stuff yourself senseless with the tasteless broth, you'll still probably only consume a couple of hundred calories a day. Just don't try to stand up too quickly, or you might just faint from chic overload!

Some variations of the diet allow other foods, such as bananas and meat, but you really shouldn't stray from tradition. Like, what would your ancestors say? They would likely shake their pin curls in disappointment.

The basic recipe calls for cabbage (duh), celery, mushrooms, tomatoes, peppers, onions, carrots, pre-made bullion cubes and your seasonings of choice. Sounds super yum, right? Um, this is when you're supposed to nod and be like, "Ohmigod, delish."

Anyway, I wouldn't bother adding onions or carrots since they're uber starchy. I just don't want you to get kicked out of ketosis, you know? Come to think of it, throw those tomatoes out too. That bouillon just seems totes unnecessary also. Okay, so our soup will basically consist of mineral water and cabbage, I suppose. But now we're, like, totally doing the One Food Diet, too. And Paleo! And, like, this is uber vegan-friendly. Gawd, talk about multi-tasking.

The "I can't see it!" Diet

If you're a fixture on the fashion industry's party circuit, you are well aware of the au courant set's penchant for microscopic portions of distinguishingly decadent food, I mean, what exactly is the purpose of serving miniature cupcakes? Is this a test? Like, what's with the tiny sandwiches and cheeseburgers? Is the bread just there to keep your fingers clean? And someone please explain to me the obsession with canapes and fried puffs. All I see are fat and carbs sharing real estate on a tray smothered in grease and shame. It's actually really confusing yet insulting yet intriguing yet tempting yet cute yet revolting, all at the same time.

Am I supposed to eat it? I think I am. I mean, these kind caterers have already done all of the hard work and cut everything into tiny, guilt-free smidgens. And how terrible could everything be when the portion sizes are so adorable? That grilled truffle oil-infused gruyere sandwich can't be so bad for me, right? It's only, like, half the size of my Amex card. And that microscopic scone? It's the size of a quarter! Having one doesn't make me irresponsible.

Wait a minute. Ohmigod, are people watching? Do I look poor and desperate? How come no one else is eating? Should I not be eating either? I think I just saw that blogger pop a tiny piece of fried macaroni and cheese into his mouth. Or did he? I repeat, is this a test?

There is a reason that all of the offering at such glamorous parties are bite-sized enigmas of congealed cheese and bacon grease. They're your cheat treats! Enjoying a few tiny morsels of forbidden food is totes acceptable, so long as you don't carry around a plate laden with them. As a reward for all of the other 364 days a year that you deny yourself of such scrumptious evils, you are allowed this one window of glorious opportunity to indulge in two or, daresay, three pieces of wanton abandon.

Oh, but the fashion crowd is a clever one. While each itty-bitty hors d'ouevre might seem relatively innocuous, it is still a miniature recreation of something that you would never be caught dead eating in front of Anna Wintour. Thus, you must wolf it down as surreptitiously as possible while still keeping your composure. And in that is where the genius lies.

After committing such a deplorable act as inhaling a mini brownie in three seconds flat while crouched down behind a crowd of fashion photographers, you are overcome with remorse and shame. What has come of you? Have you no self-control? It wasn't even worth it! That's it- no more food for the rest of the night! Then you will ration out a mini green juice for the rest of the evening in hopes that it will at least help to dilute your transgressions.

Do you see what just happened? You got your junk food fix, yet your calorie count for the day will be kept low by the guilt that overwhelms you. If you're lucky, the remorse will spill over into the next day. Maybe even the rest pf the week! D you know what just happened? It's called psychology.

The I'm-fucking-rich-and-glamourous Diet

For the impossibly chic girl, it's raining oysters, sashimi and tartare every night, with a guarantee of accompanying champagne showers. She loves to order seafood towers for the table and is obsessed with rhubarb mignonette. "I'm basically on a raw food diet, as you know," she will explain to her friends as she persuades them into doing a $300 caviar tasting. "Just a really fancy one."

Or is black & blue filet mignon considered raw? Whatever. The chic girl loves her steak, especially if it's of the Kobe Wagyu variety. She'll do lobster or butterfish or even sea bream, but forgoes salmon because it's "so 2011." "I only do lox when I have Eggs Norwegian at Balthazar," she will say with a sniff as she pursues limited menus with disdain. "And I'm talking about Paris Balthazar, not the one on Spring."

She is like a culinary hipster in the sense that she basically shuns anything that wouldn't be available to the general public at Food Emporium. Um, farro risotto? With fucking kale? You better back away slowly before she scratches your face in frustration. How dare you offer her that. She doesn't do proletarian foods; didn't you know?

Basically, she will turn up her perfectly rhinoplasty job at the foods of mere mortals, rolling her eyes if someone suggests going out for pizza and snarling in disgust at the mention of gourmet burgers. "I tried a cheeseburger for the first time whilst on holiday in London last year," she will say as she lets out a harrowing sigh. "It was the worst experience of my entire life."

"Cava is not champagne!" she will vehemently cry out, snatching the menu away from the basic bitch who had the audacity to suggest it in her presence. "And oysters from New Jersey? Get the fuck out of my face."

This emaciated diva loves herself a good tasting menu, even if it consists of, like, 18 courses. But haven't you noticed how all of the nicer restaurants, like Per Se and Daniel, are basically just never-ending parades of microscopic low-carb morsels? Obvi the people in the kitchen get the picture! And as for dessert, this lavish betch never partakes- she's just so full, you know?

So be it foie grais brulee, organic rabbit rillettes or diver scallop carpaccio, this extravagant girl knows how to execute the zero-carb diet in style. And while other chic ladies around town may have to sacrifice pricey food in favour of fashion, this is never an issue for this rich bitch (or, perhaps, her sugar daddy). For the girl on the FRaG Diet, compromise is never an option.

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lavendarhearts · 1 year ago

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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

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hebuiltfive · 1 year ago

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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.

#thundertober 2023 #thunderbirds fanfiction #five fics #gordon tracy #lady penelope #pen & ink #thunderbirds are go

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watching-pictures-move · 11 months ago

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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.

#film #movie review #shock ‘em dead #mark freed

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theghostpinesmusic · 5 months ago

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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.

#traveling #writing #photos #alaska #skagway #hiking #puppies

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riallasheng · 2 years ago

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Hmmm... I can see where it comes from, although it does end up making Kyrano look WORSE in how he yoloed out of there. His job was to protect them, and he just left and apparently cut all (or near all) communication. :( In a 'iR was a GDF branch until 2 or so years ago' verse, Kyrano wouldn't have needed to be security, as there would have been security / guards from the GDF, they wouldn't have really needed a head of security until they went independent silly aside, but I really wish that Kayo was head of security instead of covert ops... if nothing else a rescue operation having 'covert ops' being a grey area that edges into worrying. (tos got away with it because Penny being a spy predated and basically functioned OUTSIDE of IR, and she made certain that no one had any idea that she was doing covert work at all, let alone doing covert work for IR the few times she did... Where as Kayo openly announces she's with iR while doing borderline illegal stuff / covert work. I don't know, it's just odd to me. Plus most of what Kayo did are things she could have done as head of security with few scripting changes. I have a feeling that Sally is the one who put Kayo as 'Covert Ops' and to a degree head of security (which... that shows up a lot in fanfics, but I don't recall it really being a thing in the show proper (granted I'm only on 2 and a bit watch-throughs). Kayo seems to be at odds with Scott fairly often, and very much tends to answer to Sally or John rather than him, and in a 'iR was GDF and the GDF wants iR back' world... Wow Scott would have gone BALLISTIC about Sally making Kayo 'covert ops'. He wouldn't have the authority to change it, though he likely tried to keep Kayo to more security detail than... to... ... ............ ......!!!!!! ...lord love a duck because that's how you get a platypus... Scott is the one that kept sending Kayo with Alan as a 'baby sitter'.... but in this potential universe, that was him basically using ALAN as a 'baby sitter' for KAYO to keep her on security detail rather than covert ops!!!!!

(I'm so glad you love my evil idea, please run as far as you like with it XD ) I 100% think the Hood would be involved in Scott being a POW, Janus as well and possible others in the GDF. but i don't think Kayo would ahve known at the time or even after... i think the Hood would ahve realized that would be a line too far for her, and given how Kayo seems to be a very new addition that Alan doesn't know how to act around, I think she's only been 'back' for a year at most, most likely less, which means she wouldn't have left the Hood when Scott was a POW as that was a good 3+ years prior to the Pilot. Plus, Kayo doesn't seem to hate the Hood enough for 'you were responsible for my 'big brother' being totured for months on end', it seems more like she knows he's bad, but she doesn't see him as irredemable. (to me at least) (Also, for maximum angst I don't want her to know about how Scott was 'trapped' in the GDF to keep his brothers safe and iR independent or then tortured as a POW becuase oooooo the dramangst of her finding out later is just too fun ... I'm evil, okay? XD )

Eh, him being an unknown son of Kyrano Sr doesn't spark my interest all that much. for me the draw of him having been Kyrano himself is it would explain his disapperance / abandonment, would have had a direct and strong connection with the Tracys and Kayo that could have brought in interesting stories, and would have brought the Kayo - Hood plotline from S1 onwards into s2 and beyond. If that makes sense?

Yeah the more I think on it, the more tagJohn seems like someone that could have served for at least a short period of time, and 100% would have been willing to join up with the intent of only using it to get easier access to information / just until Scott was saved. Virgil ithink was being protected from the realities of it all by the others, but oddly I think it would have been Sally who was sheltering him the most given how she tends to treat him / how she seems to favor him a lot / how he's the one seen in her presence the most. Well intentioned, noble ideals... but not nessisarily a good thing. But Virgil not knowing what it was like in the POW camp for Scott, and not seeing him until after he was on the road to recovery (Alan and gordon were likely also kept in the dark about it, and Scott could ahve been at the Creighton-Ward manor under Sir Hugh's watchful protection until he was up to returning to the Island (with John staying with him possibly... which could easily be where John and Penny became friends too, rather than in college)

@edutainer2022 , the original post was so long it was causing issues on my phone for some reason, so I'm copying your last post and starting a new 'thread' (so long as that is alright with you. If you so wish I'll copy my reply and put it on your thread ^^;; )

Of IR is obviously a cash sinkhole. They also tend to wreck quite a lot of property through the rescues. Zero-XL trial and error construction alone seems to have cost a budget of a sizable country. Also... the way IR policy is about not saving equipment and John merrily suggesting Global One worth billions of hard fought for tooth and nail funding be abandoned - they boys probably never had to file a grant proposal in their life. In their life equipment the caliber and expense of a space station is replaceable on demand. Unless it has sentimental value.

I LOVE the idea Mom's heirloom money was a major contribution. Although, the old residence of the Gran Roca doesn't appear opulent - we don't know the extent of the estate (and horses? Where did the horses go?). Maybe smart investments, patents, not just aeronatic business. Mom is canonically old southern money (but still no name).

Oh, the Bereznik thing WITHOUT Jeff in the picture would have been a glorious mess. Scott is a) respectfully, a fairy nobody at that point (well, Daddy's boy, but no political and little economic leverage); b) all but a liability for GDF if they want to go ahead with IR - Scott is one foot out and vocal about his brothers being no foot in, the IR branching AWAY into Thunderbirds is afoot, and while it's not a problem to train GDF officers into operatives, the hitch is probably in the rights and specs for the tech (and Brains) - the Tracies are out, IR is out of GDF clutch. So yeah... Scotty MIA is more convenient... than not. So quite likely the Old Guard pooled up for an extraction that "never happened" under conditions that Scott's imprisonment "never happened" to anyone who should ask. Yeah, Scott doesn't like or wants anything to do with GDF law inforcement angle. Maybe IR is later greenlit under STRICT conditions they will only identify as civilians. Scott is so worried Kayo was breaking that rule as if their license depended on it. Maybe it did. He's worried as late as Chain Reaction (all the while aiding and abating an escape of a terrorist out of pure unironic goodness of his heart).

I agree, much as the idea of Military bros is appealing - Gordon indicates no exposure to that structure. Scott does, but, like you said, not in the manner that would suggest he thrived or wanted to do it for life. Semi-canonical "interview" with "Scott" has him flounder on a question what he would do, if not IR. The military service doesn't even come up. Something something about charity and philanthropy.

I wonder how much of Zero-X was built with Jeff and Lee in mind. Calypso was a two pilot mission. There wasn't much OUT THERE at the time to warrant T-drive powered rescues. No Marcian colony, nothing. Maybe Jeff and Lee felt stir crazy, "moored" on Earth and kinda expected to space-the-final-frontier it in their autumn days.

Yeah, TaG tends to be as hard on their equipment (and locations) as TOS was, but you have to factor that by the number of rescues... and with TaG being known, that means that people can 'contact' them for reimbursement for damages and harm and the like. Hck, protection from THAT might be part of the reason Jeff could ahve gone with a branch of the GDF initially. (actually, question... where does the Kyrano was a bad-ass ninja warrior come from? It's never said or even implied in the show that I recall. Is it just because Kayo is a kick-ass warrior? I ask because imagine if Kyrano was originally more of the lawyer type, or engineer who was helping Brains or the like). The Tracys, Brains, and Kayo are REALLY lackadaisical about objects and finances. Sometimes I get it, like when the choice is save a person OR save a thing... but they seem to be richer than even the TOS Tracys, and there are times where their lack of care of items is grating. Teh high-rise fire episode in example, where they took delight and went out of their way to damage the building / cut the top off of it - it legit would have been easier and safer to break the glass and lower the seats down, and the smugness to the building owner after bordered on them being asses. And in another example... yeah, Global One. O'Bannon was RIGHT in her call to try and save the station, that is a MASSIVE investment (and would have been a LOT OF DEADLY DEBRIS RAINING DOWN) and I frankly side with her on it. Like TOS tends to place people above the items too, but they do try to limit damage they cause, in the comics actually do their best to salvage /save items when possible (The ocean liner The President in example) and John and Scott even directly discuss how the Ocean Pioneer was a significant investment for the people involved and they should have tried saving it. Scott AGREES with John on that, but points out that they likely couldn't have done so before it blew up / they might not have been able to. In the comics (and novels to a degree) they HAVE made the call to save the objects as well on occasion.

On the Ranch not looking opulent... sometimes people with a lot of money don't spend it on mansions or the like, but instead on other things... and it's possible that the Mom's family prefered simply, homely, comforts and disliked ostentatious shows of wealth. (In an example... Tracy Island in TOS and TaG is like this. The interior is comfortable and not very showy... yes they're on a private island, but the home itself looks like a upper middle class home of the era. There's Virgil's piano, but it's a baby grand rather than a grand, and white pianos actually cost markidly less than black pianos. The game room has a pool table, but (esp in the 60s) Pool tables weren't that expensive unless you went all in, and even people on the lower end of middle class could possibly have one. The same is true for what we see in the TaG house. Upper end of middle class overall. One or two showy things, but not opulent. Not Southern money, Western money / South-Western money. Southern refers to the states in the south east and tends to come from foresty or farms, where-as western and south western are from ranches or oil/natural gas. (The USA is not so much one country as it is 50 countries in a trenchcoat XD The Mom's home is in the western states, which are about as different culturally from the 'southern' states as... hmm... Ukraine is from France. There are many simularities, but there are also many differences). Bad area for horses though, very rocky with little to no grass or open areas. Not good for cattle ranching either. Most likely it was oil or natural gas (despite teh show lambasting it, oil is vital for a HECK of a lot more than just fuel, and would still be required in the 'modern day' of the show)

Yeah, Jeff being gone when Scott was a POW would make for an interesting situation. a) Scott likely was at minimum a Captain, and the Tracy name would have been well known from how big the company was to Jeff's heroic 'death', so Scott would be in the very bad position of being a 'nobody'... related to several 'somebodies' who could be levereged for ransom and Scott himself would likely be tortured for information on Tracy Industries, the (at that point) shut down iR 'branch', the GDF in general... It wouldn't be a good time for him in the slightest b) Scott being a POW would, terrifyingly, be a 'good' situation for the GDF. He wouldn't have any information they would need to worry about, it keeps him out of the way and out of trouble, he doesn't have teh threat of leaving the GDF which means as long as he's a POW they have access to Brains and the funding from Tracy Industries, they might be able to get Virgil or John to join up (Gordon would still be too young to enlist, as he'd only be 16 or 17)... Horrifyingly, they'd have every reason to both make sure that Scott stayed alive... and stayed a POW. And Scott would KNOW THAT. Which would go a VERY LONG way to explaining his apparent SEVERE lack of trust (and at times apparent near hatred) for the GDF. He likes and trusts Casey and Lee, but the GDF as a whole? Odds are Casey was very much bending or even breaking orders to get even slightly involved in the rescue. Heck, just her HIDING the fact that others were planning a rescue might have been all she was able to do, it might have been almost entirely Penny's dad via his connections and possibly sending Parker in, and quite likely Lee finding a way off the Moon (oddly, despite my earlier statement... I do't think Kyrano would be involved in this rescue. There's no indication that he ever left whatever bolthole he fled to, and if he didn't show up to help when the Hood returned or when they started finding evidence that Jeff was alive... he isn't going to show up to save Scott. Which means the rescue party was likely Parker, Lee, and possibly Penny's dad... who I totally imagine to basically be a 1:to:1 for Sir Jeremy Hodge from TOS. Odds are all the POWs were rescued, not just Scott.

Scott leaving the GDF likely the SECOND he was recovered enough to be coherent / lucid likely was a blow to the GDF, as that means Brains and the Tracy income would now be gone. I could totally see them putting a 'if you become a military organization, we will be 'forced' to have iR become part of the GDF again... it explains the total lack of weapons on the Thunderbirds or Tracys (I'm sorry, weapons for self defense or defense of others is a good thing overall) and why Scott is SO INTENSE about Kayo getting into combat situations... but also why he doesn't really get snarly until Kayo WORKS WITH THE GDF. He sacrificed a HELL of a lot to make sure that never happened, and he likely sees it as the GDF getting one MASSIVE foot in the door to them taking over iR 'again'.

TOS Scott and Gordon show a lot of evidence of not only havng been in the military, but having thrived in it. And some people DO do well in the military, quite often very good people. But Gordon is only 18-20 by the tme of the Pilot, so there honestly is no way for him to have served while still having his lines indicating that he's been a full-time member of iR for a few years prior to the pilot apply on top of the fact that he shows NO behaviors or actions that fit with a former member of the military. tagScott DOES show behaviors and actions that match up with a former member of the military... but they match up with the behaviors of those who just did NOT thrive / work / mesh with the military life. He very much seems to be a 'I served and by God do I regret it' type (which hey, fair, some people just aren't right for it)

you know, oddly, I don't think Jeff or Lee (or iR) were in mind at all with the Zero X. The GDF wouldn't really want either to go out exploring the far edges of the solar system, and with iR up and running (and plans to go independent with it) I actually doubt that Jeff or Lee would have wanted to go do so. Lee AFTER Jeff's 'death' might have been interested in that sort of thing as we see with him staying on the Mars Colony... but not before, I don't think. Look at how happy he was to stay on the Moon Base. He had nodesire or drive to go out exploring, he was happy to stay at Alphie and only left when he had no choice.

#long posts? where we're going we only have long posts #long post #(One day I will get better at tagging I promise

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amatchinwater · 3 years ago

Text

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.

#teen wolf #steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #theo x stiles #stiles x theo #josh diaz #donovan donati #Match Writes

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gumnut-logic · 3 years ago

Photo

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-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #nuttyfic reblog #I did write today #a whole page #but distractions rule and yeah still not there #sorry

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voidstilesplease · 3 years ago

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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)

#steo #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #stiles x theo #fics tag #ehhh... you know when you know #this is what happens when i stumble across videos about bandmates who fell in love and fell apart and now make sad music about the other #while in separate heterosexual relationships for PR #im not saying i fully believe the videos i see but there are enough material to make me sad anyway

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

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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.

#tag mini bang 2021 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari write fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #lady penelope creighton-ward #aloysius parker #a little fall of rain #thunderfluff

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whatgaviiformes · 4 years ago

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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.

#thunderbirds fanfiction #Gavii Scribit #John Tracy #Alan Tracy #ask box prompts #Wee!Tracys #Thunderfluff #ficlets and bits

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tracybirds · 3 years ago

Text

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.

#john tracy #alan tracy #all the bros are there but these are our main perspectives today #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #i need to update ao3 again don't i.....

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myhauntedsalem · 3 years ago

Text

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.

#CAN CHILDREN SEE GHOSTS #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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doyelikehaggis · 3 years ago

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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.

#ds-umbrella-manufacturing-co #ask away earthlings!#tdg #the dumping ground #long post #ryan reeves #tyler x ryan #alex walker #charlie morris #lily kettle #my mum tracy beaker #tracy beaker returns #tracy beaker #bailey wharton

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