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writingforstraykids · 1 year ago

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Addicted to you - Chp.3

Pairing: Minchan (mention of ot8)

Word Count: 4126

Summary: Chan and Minho finally decide to talk more in-depth about their experiences and current feelings. Chan slips up once again, and Minho finds himself in his lap sooner than he thought.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, slight angst, mention of alcohol, mention of former abuse (no detailed description), teasing, smut, dom!chan, sub!minho, chan "accidentally" calls minho kitten

Chp. 2 | Chp. 4

You tell me your secrets You keep your life between your lips You know you're my weakness Tell stories with your fingertips eyes don't lie - Isabel LaRosa

Minho wandered towards the kitchen, noticing the others abandoned the plan to watch a movie, with Chan and him missing. He sighed softly, assuming the boys retreated to their rooms by now. “That’s one way to kill the mood,” he whispered to himself, feeling bad for storming off in the middle of the movie. Minho will admit he tended to react before thinking. He opened the fridge, took out some drinks, and found a box of strawberries on the bottom shelf. Minho washed and cut them into pieces, throwing them into a bowl. He washed his hands and thought back to the events of two days ago.

It all started with a simple kiss.

It shouldn’t have meant anything; things should’ve all stayed like before. Nevertheless, those few seconds have now changed everything for them.

Admittingly, letting Chan kiss him hadn’t been the best move, given the massive crush he had developed on his only hyung within the group. In his defense, Chan could be pretty convincing, especially when he’s had a few drinks. Chan couldn’t hold his liquor that well and in turn became adorably shy, but a shameless flirt at the same time. Minho loved spending time with him in the evening when everyone else retreated to bed, leaving the two of them together. So of course, things had already been developing in that direction for quite some time.

Minho shook his head at his thoughts, gathering everything and making his way to Chan’s room. He clumsily opened the door and almost dropped the drinks, chuckling at himself.

Chan grinned and helped him out, closing the door for him. “You just couldn’t open the fridge and leave without a snack, huh?” he giggled at him.

“Given the fact that I gain and lose weight quickly, I decided to not to give a fuck anymore.” he shrugged with a grin.

Chan sat down on the bed with him, pillows resting against the headboard. He opened the drinks for them and chuckled as Minho offered him some strawberries. “You need another pillow?” he asked.

“I’m fine, hyung.” he assured him with a gentle smile. “I have a question for you.”

“Go on.” Chan told him.

Minho sipped on his drink and leaned his head back against the wall. “Have you ever been in a relationship?” he asked curiously.

Chan shook his head and chuckled softly. “No…have you?”

He stared at him, honestly surprised. “You never…wow, okay.” he ignored his question at first. Chan blinked at him, curiosity and confusion on his expression. “I just thought someone as handsome as you must’ve been in a relationship before.”

“Someone as handsome as me?” he asked, and a slight blush settled on his cheeks. “I guess I just didn’t have the time with everything that was going on since our debut.”

“Right, you’ve been stuck in this whole thing longer than the rest of us.” Minho hummed and side-eyed him. “Never?”

“No, I swear.” he laughed. “Have you?”

“Uh, yeah I have. Looking back on it now, I could’ve skipped that” he told him. “He kind of ruined relationships for me.”

“You had a boyfriend?” Chan asked surprisedly, and Minho raised his eyebrows at the question.

“Is that a problem?” he asked and prepared himself for any potential harsh words that could leave Chan’s lips at any moment. For a moment, the familiar fear of being judged kicked in full force, trumping the reason they are having this conversation in the first place. What is Chan thinking right now?

Chan’s brows furrowed briefly, but then he recognized his mistake. “No no, not at all.” he quickly assured him, and it hurt slightly seeing relief wash over Minho’s posture. “I was just surprised. I didn’t think you…okay, that thought sounds stupid after what we did. I just didn’t think you were into guys before this whole thing started. But I guess you don’t have many options left either.” A small blush began creeping up his neck.

“Why?” he laughed softly. “Because you see me interact with girls all the time?” he asked sarcastically, both knowing he didn’t.

He giggled and gently punched his arm. “You haven’t exactly been that open about your sexual preferences, compared to some of the others.”

“Fair point…but like I said, I’m a virgin. There’s not much to share anyways.” he shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of the drink in his hand.

“Still surprises me.” he nodded and couldn’t help but wonder how the hell that had happened. After all, Minho was the most handsome guy he knew. Him having a boyfriend in his past isn’t far off. But Chan’s mind began drifting, thinking about how his flexibility when dancing translates in bed. The thoughts make goosebumps rise on his arms. He quickly lowered his eyes, pushing the images aside and scolding himself for it.

“Mhm, that relationship wasn’t exactly great, so I didn’t feel like wasting it on him. He did try, though. Not just once” his voice trailing off at the last couple words, and his eyes darkened.

“What do you mean he tried?” he asked hesitantly, giving Minho a sympathetic look.

“I got a little too drunk one night. He just wouldn’t stop asking, touching me in places I didn’t want him to and calling me names when I tried to stop him. He kept on finding ways to get me into bed.” he sighed softly and swayed the bottle in his hands from side to side. “It’s part of why I don’t like exposing too much of my skin on stage or when we go swimming.”

“I’m sorry, Min.” Chan said sincerely and gently patted his thigh.

“It’s alright, I have enough time to figure things out until the relationship ban is over. Or all of this, given our crazy schedules and stuff. Whichever comes first.” he giggled before looking at Chan. “What about you? Had your first kiss yet?” he teased while wiggling his eyebrows, knowing damn well he did.

Chan looked at him, amused. “Just because I haven’t been in a relationship doesn’t mean I haven’t done the other things before.”

“Other things?” he asked, quietly swallowing at Chan’s cheeky smirk. “You mean before the whole idol thing?”

He shook his head gently and took another sip of his drink. “I’ve had sex quite often actually. The relationship ban doesn’t really stop you from that, you know.” he said, blushing at Minho’s wide eyes. “So no, I’m not a virgin anymore. I’ve been having casual sex, but nothing serious for the last year.”

“So you just invite some girl over, have sex, and send her off again?” he asked surprised.

“Sometimes, yes. And sometimes I invite some guy over,” he said casually, and the way Minho’s body tensed made the corner of his lips twitch into a smirk, but only for a second. “I just need to let off some steam sometimes, to be honest.”

“Oh, okay.” he nodded dumbly and couldn’t help but shift a little beneath Chan’s intense gaze. So this hadn’t been a one-time thing for Chan after all. “So I suppose you’re normally the one in control?”

Chan hummed softly. “I am.”

“Huh,” Minho nodded and quickly took another sip, feeling his ears burning red at the thoughts clouding his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder how Chan was in bed, what his preferences were. Clearly, he must know what he was doing at this point. Chan’s experience was now another thing peaking Minho’s curiosity.

“And you…?” Chan trailed off, not knowing how to put it without sounding weird.

“Kissing? I mean sure, I had my fair share of kisses. Felix got the most up until now,” he chuckled. “He’s a good kisser…amongst other things.”

Chan giggled softly. “Interesting…but I wasn’t talking about kissing.”

“I’m no stranger to dick just because I haven’t let anyone up my ass yet.” Minho said as a deep blush covered his ears and cheeks.

“How come?” he asked curiously, wondering how far he had gone before.

“When I was a backup dancer, there was a guy I was interested in. One thing led to another, blah blah blah” he waved him off, not interested in retelling the tale.

“Meaning?”

“Hmm, someone’s curious! Wanna add me to your list of people to be jealous of?” he teased, and Chan rolled his eyes playfully.

“I thought we were sharing secrets here.” he smirked.

“Handjobs in the shower, sucking him off backstage…” Minho’s mind flashed back to his rendezvous with the man. “Fuck, he was great with his tongue, ate me out like some-.”

“Okay, I got it.” Chan snorted, and Minho grinned. So, there was some previous experience that explained his confidence. “Don’t you miss that now?”

“You think Felix and I only kissed?” he asked smugly.

“That explains a lot.” he chuckled, thinking back to how close those two had gotten over the past year. Now that he knew, it all made sense. Their sudden disappearances happened more than once as he recalls the memories.

“So Felix was your preferred way to let off steam?” Chan asked, knowing he wouldn’t stand a chance now. Felix was way too pretty and sweet in comparison to him. On the other hand, didn’t he say it was all over now?

Minho shrugged. “It was fun every now and then, but we haven’t fooled around in a while.”

"And you never thought about it getting serious?" he asked curiously, trying to picture those two as a couple, which didn't quite work.

"No." he shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I'm not the kind of person he needs in a relationship." he said gently. "Felix is very soft, loving, and fragile. I'm…not," he said and awkwardly scratched his neck.

"Excuse me?" he asked, confused. "When you’re comfortable around people, you're the most loving person I know. You're quite soft and adorable actually. And even though you don't show it, deep down, you’re fragile too."

Minho smiled softly, heart warming at his kind words. "Even though I don't believe that, I appreciate it. Felix needs someone gentle but strong by his side. Someone less sassy." he smirked.

"Fair point, although I don’t think you're sassy with him." he giggled.

"Anyway, it was a lovely time, but I don't want Felix in that way." he said. “It’s better this way. His heart always belonged to someone else, you know? Don’t get me wrong, he means a lot to me, but it was never what I was looking for in a partner.”

“Makes sense.” Chan nodded gently, looking at him deep in thought.

“Also, I really don’t need him to feel good.” he shrugged. “You’ve seen that for yourself now.”

Chan stared at him, eyes wandering over his face. He could vividly remember Minho pleasuring himself, eyes fluttering close and lips parting. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking what he’d look like if it were him buried inside of him. Would he sound as heavenly as he did then? Would his big brown eyes flutter close, rolling back into his head from the pleasure? Would his body look as beautiful in his sheets as he imagined it?

Minho felt himself blushing a little at his gaze. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked, chuckling softly.

“I suppose you did, kitten.” he admitted and almost dropped his drink, seeing Minho’s lips part with a surprised gasp. He did not mean to say that out loud.

“What?” his voice barely above a whisper, stomach fluttering at the word.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry.” Chan groaned and buried his face in his hands, embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Did you just call me kitten?” Minho asked, finding his voice again and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Maybe?” Chan whined, still not looking up.

“That’s not okay.” Minho said quietly, biting his lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Min. I didn’t mean to make things weird again, and-.” Chan rambled and looked up at his friend. But a slight irritated amusement covered his features as Minho giggled softly.

“You can’t call me that and expect me not to feel something after just telling you about me pleasuring myself.”

“Y-you feel s-something?” Chan stuttered over his words.

“For someone who likes to be in control, you’re quite shy.” Minho teased observingly, tilting his head at him. “What I meant is you can’t call me kitten when I can’t do anything about it.”

“You liked that?” Chan asked, his nervousness vanishing almost instantly.

“Maybe.” Minho mocked him, a sly grin on his lips.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t stop being a tease even when you’re not in bed.” Chan commented.

“I’ve teased you in your bed before, quite a few times actually. Don’t act so surprised,” he gave back, playing dumb with a smirk.

“If you don’t stop teasing me, I just might kiss you again.” Chan warned him, a sudden bold demeanor displaying as the alcohol ran through in his veins. There was a possible chance that Minho might actually like him back.

"And what's keeping you from doing it?" he sassed back, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Consent." he said simply.

"Fucks sake, you didn’t care about that two days ago." Minho groaned, his body heating up with need. "You have my permission." he chuckled and looked at him expectantly, putting his drink aside on the bedside table.

"Wait, you're serious?" Chan asked with a shocked expression on his features.

Minho sighed softly. "I hope to God you're not that slow picking up on things when you have sex with some random person. Take a hint, Chan hyung." he said and moved to straddle his lap.

Chan blinked at him for a moment before sitting up and grabbing his chin. "Last chance to stop me."

"Why would I?" Minho asked. "It's not like I didn't want this to happen again."

"Oh, you have no idea." Chan smirked before connecting their lips in a heated kiss.

Minho closed his eyes and let the feeling of Chan's full lips on his set in. He kissed back with the same intensity, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Chan pulled back after a moment and met his eyes. "Minho," he said softly.

"Chan," Minho breathed out and searched his eyes. "Why did you stop?"

"Do you want me to keep kissing you?" Chan asked, tilting his head softly at him.

Minho let out a soft sigh. "Don't you long for this sometimes?" he asked and started playing with Chan's hair. "Someone to kiss you, hold you close, and make you feel loved? For more than just one night?"

Chan smiled gently. "Who doesn't?" He placed his hands on his hips. "Would you like me to be that one for you?"

"I don't want to be one of your one-night stands." Minho said firmly.

"You won't be. I've had a crush on you for months now." he told him, and the shock on Minho’s face almost made him chuckle. Chan exhaled softly, feeling like a weight lifted off his shoulders. “That’s what I was trying to tell you before.”

"I always thought I was the only one." he said, and Chan giggled.

“I hope you didn’t after I got hard just listening to your voice.” he laughed.

“I had my doubts.” he shrugged, acting as if he didn’t care, which made Chan laugh even more. "So what would that make us, given our circumstances? Friends with benefits?"

"Why don't we try it out and see what happens along the way?" Chan asked, and Minho’s eyes stared through his curiously.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want. Just let me take care of you, kitten."

"How could I resist such an offer?" Minho teased before closing the distance between them and kissing him again.

Chan kissed back passionately and grabbed his neck, pulling him in deeper. As they continued, their kisses grew heavier with each breath.

Minho hummed gently as Chan started kissing down his neck. He tangled his hand in his curls and moaned softly as Chan licked and gently bit the skin just below his ear. Minho didn't hold back his soft whimpers and low moans as Chan worked on his neck, finding all the right spots. Chan grabbed his hips and pulled him closer to reach more of his skin, making him grind against his lap. "Fuck, Channie." Minho breathed out, surprised at the sudden friction.

Chan glanced up at him and repeated the movement, pressing his thigh between his legs. Minho's mouth fell open with a silent moan, eyes fluttering close. "Feels good?"

"Yes," he nodded and shifted a little on his thigh. "Can I?"

"Go on," he said, biting his lip as Minho placed a hand on his shoulder and started grinding against his thigh. Minho sighed, relief starting to sink in from the delicious friction. Chan watched him, his eyes fluttering close, lips parted as beautiful moans left his mouth. "You sound so pretty." he spoke sweetly.

Minho giggled breathlessly, eyes rolling back as Chan grabbed his hips, making him grind down harder. His grip on his shoulder and hair tightened, the satisfied moans leaving his throat making Chan look at the man in absolute wonder.

"Shh kitten, we don't wanna wake up the kids." Chan chuckled darkly, and Minho whimpered before burying his face in his shoulder. "You like that? The risk of getting caught?" he asked him with a smirk. A shiver danced over Minho’s spine as he moaned into the fabric of his shirt. His body’s reactions fuel the dominating fire slowly burning in Chan. "Kitten, have you touched yourself before, anticipating someone will catch you?"

Minho put a hand on the wall behind Chan, a deep blush now settled on his cheeks and ears. A playful smirk tugs on his lips at the thought, amused that he could hide his desire for so long. "Way too often," he admitted and rolled his hips eagerly. "Thought of you catching me when I was fucking myself with my toy."

Chan groaned at that confession, and his grip around his hips tightened. "You thought of me when you fucked yourself?" Minho whimpered at the question, and Chan's hand ran through his hair before pulling him back to meet his eyes, trapping him in his gaze. "Answer me, kitten."

Minho blush painted his features red and he nodded weakly as Chan moved his hips faster, making him grind harder. He had to admit, this dominant side of Chan was making him incredibly hard, the need to submit to him strong. "All the time."

"Tell me about it." Chan demanded, but a pleading undertone could be heard in his words. His cock was painfully hard from Minho's words and the godly sweet moans leaving his lips.

"Thought about your fingers replacing mine," Minho breathed out, his pleasure flowing through his veins and taking over his mind. "How much better they would feel because your hands are bigger than mine."

Chan growled softly and kissed him passionately. "Fuck, you're making it hard to hold back."

Minho gasped softly and chuckled. "Thought about -fuck, Channie hyung- you fucking me senseless," he got out between moans. "Taking me however you want, ahh-especially after concerts when the adrenaline starts wearing off."

"Would you like that? Me fucking you senseless on tour?" he asked, moaning softly as Minho nodded in response. He couldn't keep his composure anymore. He held onto his waist and flipped them over.

Minho moaned, surprised as he was suddenly on his back with Chan pinning down his wrists above his head. "That was hot." he admitted.

Chan chuckled before leaning down to kiss him. "Sorry, I just couldn’t watch you any longer. You're driving me crazy."

"My pleasure." he smirked, and Chan hovered over his body.

"You feel comfortable taking off some of these clothes?" he asked while rubbing small circles on his skin, making sure that he was comfortable with every detail.

"It’s not like we haven’t done that before." Minho nodded and licked his lips in anticipation as Chan removed his shirt. He took in the sight of his godlike body and reached out for him, hand roaming over his skin. He had time to appreciate the sight of him. When Chan reached for his shirt, he stopped him. "I-I have that stupid scar on my stomach. I can leave my shirt on if that bothers you.” he told him and swallowed, how could he forget?

Chan's face softened, and he gently caressed his cheek. "It doesn't bother me at all." he said before helping him to sit up. "Does it bother you?"

"Maybe a little." he admitted softly, averting his eyes. Chan's eyes softened.

"You're beautiful just the way you are, Min." he told him as he caught his shy gaze. Minho swallowed hard before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it off his body. Once Minho laid back again, Chan leaned down and planted soft kisses along his scar, his touch gentle and warm on the younger man’s skin.

Minho's heart warmed at his action. The sheer force of that small act made his heart jump and his face beet red. It felt as if he introduced a level of intimacy he’s never had. This small gesture of care bloomed from true consideration and compassion. In that moment, he realized he was madly in love. His hand sunk back into Chan's curls as his lips trailed up his torso and to his chest. Chan's tongue teased his nipple before he took it between his teeth. Minho arched into the pleasure with an orgasmic moan and gripped his hair tightly. "Oh Chan, just like that."

Chan continued to lick, bite, and pinch his nipples with his mouth and fingers. Minho whined helplessly, his lips slightly parted in a small “o”, hair a mess, and face painted red with a blush. Chan burned the sight into his memory. He moved his leg between Minho's, and the younger man wasted no time rutting up against it. Chan let him, enjoying the view as he pulled his hair slightly, pushing him closer to his release.

Minho panted and his body begged for release as he eagerly rolled his hips against Chan's thigh. Him playing with his nipples drove him crazy, he hadn't known he was that sensitive in this area. "I'm so close," he pressed out.

"You're doing so good, kitten," Chan told him lovingly. "Come for me, baby."

Minho's eyes rolled back, and his back arched as he stumbled over the edge, Chan's name falling from his lips. He spilled into his pants and fell back into the pillow, heavily panting.

Chan gave him a moment before hovering over him and kissing his lips. Minho palmed him through his sweatpants, making him moan.

"Need some help with that?" he asked breathlessly, and Chan gave him a nod. Minho's hand slipped into his pants and wrapped around his dick.

Chan moaned sweetly as Minho started moving, fingertip flicking over the tip of his dick. He stroked him and soon picked up the pace as Chan eagerly started rolling his hips into his fist.

He kissed him passionately, moaning into his mouth and trying to hold himself up on his elbows. "Faster, please," he begged, squeezing his eyes shut as Minho picked up the pace.

"Don't stop," he told him, and it didn't take long until his hips stilled, and he came with a groan.

Minho grunted softly as Chan collapsed onto him and stared up at the ceiling. "Fuck, we really did that, huh?"

"You regret it?" Chan asked, and Minho noticed how timid it sounded. Interesting.

He gently ran his hand through Chan's hair and shook his head. "Not one bit…Actually, I plan on visiting you more often. If you're lucky, I might actually let you fuck me senseless on tour one day."

Chan couldn't help but laugh. "You're a menace…but I'd love that."

“Yeah?” he asked, and Chan hummed gently.

“Next time you feel needy, let me help?” he offered, and Minho glanced down at him curiously as he lifted his head to see his face.

“I get horny in the most inappropriate settings,” he admitted.

He smirked and raised his eyebrows at him. “You think that’s an issue for me?”

“You didn’t seem that bold just a few minutes ago,” he shrugged, earning himself a slap on the chest.

“No word to the kids, not yet, okay?” Chan told him, and Minho rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Sure, they’re not that stupid anyway,” he shrugged, wondering if Chan knew just how innocent the others truly were. Hadn’t he noticed Felix and Changbin being a couple? Hyunjin and Jisung growing closer with every passing day, enjoying their shared freedom of not committing to someone? Jeongin being absolutely smitten with Seungmin?

Chp. 2 | Chp. 4

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/ removed from the taglist)

@soullostinspaceandtime @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies

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pommunist · 9 months ago

Note

I'll take that title in stride. I'll just tag myself from this point on lmao.

But for reals. This Fandom has some heinous behavior.

From sending death threats, to doxxing, to stalking, to hate bombing. This isn't technically new to Fandom spaces but it's a tragedy that people think this kind of behavior is ok. Let alone think that sending these things or acting on thus harassment will somehow make things BETTER. It just makes everything fucking worse.

Hell, yall can't even take critiques on their own let alone have nuanced conversations about ideas or stories.

In the greater scheme of things, none of this is real and none of this even matters. All that time wasted on harming one another mentally has done... what? Made everyone feel worse? Stellar job. Really.

I wish this kind of stuff didn't happen and that we didn't NEED people to denounce others publicly or make a massive show about "I'm a good person. See????"

Thats called virtue signaling. It's not genuine and it's not real. It's a performance. People don't HAVE to be loud about support and or denouncement. People can be good people and have the humility to not wave it around at others to show "hey look I'm so much better!!! Look his good I am!!!"

You shouldn't need someone to tell you how to have an opinion that's not fucked up. You shouldn't assume the worst possible thing about people. You shouldn't need someone to say "hey I don't think you should kill people" in order for you to feel fucking confident about their morality. Most people, on average, prefer peace and for people to be kind to one another. Genuinely. Shocker I know.

The holier than thou mentality is actually toxic in this damned place. You're not better than everyone else. You've also made mistakes or said the wrong thing or forgot shit. Everyone does. We're all fucking human.

Start treating eachother as humans. I BEG.

With love,

-FHA ♤

oh how i wish this was a problem that only the qsmp fandom suffered from :’)

i just don’t understand how people who participate in hate trains and harassment campaigns don’t realise that by doing that they’re burning down their own house (on top of engaging in general shitty behaviour, basic respect between humans ? don’t know her !)

as for the holier than thou thing i think this kind of mentality can be especially bad because it can sometimes make people focus on being performative about stuff and call out those who aren’t, rather than actually wanting and doing things to solve an issue

i feel like our cousins from twt are most guilty of this but honestly this is also due to the format twitter as a website and as a space operates on so not all their fault

also love to see you’ve fully embraced your nickname ahaha, love the spade too !

#fandom neg

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polyhexian · 1 year ago

Text

Okay, but the exciting Willow and jasper murder bonding episode:

They all find out what happened with vee and are properly horrified, and that night Willow goes to sneak out of the house to kill him. She has decided that this man is willing to dissect a child alive and he can't be allowed free but he can't be brought to justice of any kind either without endangering vee or the rest of them. She makes the decision that it has to be done and she won't put this on anyone else's conscience and she also doesn't want anyone to stop her. So she's sneaking out when a voice in the darkness stops her like hm, where are you off to? And shes like ACK totally caught. And she doesn't think to ask why jasper is also lingering about fully dressed at three in the morning, but she is brave and deviant and she stands up straight and tells him the truth. She's going to kill Jacob.

Jasper is like hm. Interesting. Well I suppose murder requires adult supervision, how about I tag along. And she's like ?????? But he is not stopping her so she's like uh. Okay. So they're off on their little adventure. They don't know where he lives so they go to the historical society first to track him down and all that fun stuff, and as they're doing all this theyre chatting away. They talk about hunter and jasper promises not to tell him about her crush and she gets all flustered and embarrassed. He shows her some neat plant magic tricks to like pick a lock with a vine. She misses her dads like hell and he's being A Comforting Paternal Figure and he promises her that he's sure they're fighting with everything they've got to make sure they're still there when she gets back, and that even if they don't know where she is they'll never give up hoping she makes it back. It's all very emotional!

And then of course WHAM! we find our guy. They break in and kick his butt and now he's on the ground and Willow has her staff pointed at him and a hard look in the eyes and she's like okay. Do or die moment. Its time to kill him.

Only for dear jasper to interject, like, are you sure you want to do this? And she's like I have to. And he's like you don't have to do anything. You're choosing to. And she's like but it's the right thing to do! And he says it may be the right thing to be done, but that doesn't mean it's the right thing to do. And she hesitates and he tells her that once you kill someone, you're different. It changes you. From that moment on you have to live with the fact you have taken someone's life away, that you have been the arbiter of life and death for someone else. You decided their future held no value, that whatever they might have been, good or bad, is gone forever, because of you, and you can't ever take that back. And she's like I know. I can handle it. And he says he knows she can, but that doesn't mean she has to. It's just as hard to walk away as it is to pull the trigger. They're both decisions. And she has to decide who she wants to be, who she wants other people to know she is, what change she wants to put in her heart. Eventually he talks her down and she backs up and says she doesn't want to be a killer. She wants to see the best in people. She wants to believe people can be good, that people can change. Jacob is cowering on the floor begging for his life and she doesn't want to be the kind of person that kills someone in cold blood like that, even if he deserves it.

Jasper says she's very smart and very brave. He looks down at terrified Jacob and says he won't be a problem anymore, right? He knows that if he ever hurts anyone again that there won't be any mercy this time, right? So he's going to be good. And Jacob nods rapidly and says yup uh huh I've turned over a new leaf I am going to be soooo good and jasper says and you're also going to pack a bag, get on a train and never come back to graves field, right? And Jacob is like Yup uh huh whatever you say scary man. And Willow is like visibly relieved because The Adult Is Handling It and he tells her to go home and get back to bed before anyone notices she's gone. He will make sure Jacob leaves town. And she's like okay. Thank you. And she leaves.

And Jacob is sitting up like haha okay. Um. Thanks for that, I-- only for jasper to immediately shoves him back down with a boot to the chest like if you really thought that you could put a little girl in a cage and that I would let you live then you are more stupid than you look. Willow is a good person and she hasn't had to live in a world where she has to sacrifice her innocence for her safety or the safety of those around her. Unfortunately for you, that is not the world I have lived in. A little more blood on my hands won't change me a bit. And we just see the terrified realization on Jacobs face before we cut away with a scream. Dun dun dun.

We fade back in to the hustle and bustle of the Noceda household in the morning, Luz getting ready for school, vee making breakfast, Camila getting ready for work, all the kids laughing and yelling. Jasper walks in and yawns talking about what a good morning run that was, and Willow gives him a grateful smile before she notices like. A splatter of blood on his shoes he missed cleaning up. And you just see her frown like... Not quite sure if that means what she thinks it means, before hunter is like hey, Willow, are you okay? And she's just back to her sunny disposition like pfft! Of course! Now hand me the maple syrup dummy stop hogging it all! Jasper just ruffles vee's hair as he steps past her to grab a box of Cheerios and like. Willow knows. But she's not going to say a word. Cut away to the outside of the house and then cut to black. Ba ba BAHHHH

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the-sky-queen · 10 months ago

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JUST FINISHED EPISODE 6!!! Before I unblock the Knuckles Series tags, I wanted to give my closing thoughts.

Overall, I really REALLY enjoyed this! :D I laughed a lot, the tension was good, the animation and choreography was incredible, and everything was just all around amazing. I wish we got to cut back to Green Hills every now and then though. Getting a little side plot with Sonic and Tails would have been cute and very nice. But I really enjoyed Wade and Knuckles' dynamic, though I think Knuckles should have had a bit more development and screen time.

One thing I absolutely ADORED was the theme song, along with the constant theme of older music scattered throughout the series. I gasped out loud when I saw Wade's discman. (My sister still has one!) I grew up listening to CDs. When it was time for a roadtrip, my family would grab one of our big CD cases for the car ride. So looking at that theme song animation made my heart absolutely soar. ❤️ And while I didn't recognize any of the songs they played in the episodes (save for a couple), I can really appreciate the vibe. I also grew up listening to my dad's music. Stuff from when HE was growing up. It just felt right to have Wade into all kinds of music.

I have only a few complaints. First: Wanda was kinda really, really annoying. She got better as time went on, but she was really bad at first. She felt like a kid who never grew up. Like seriously, why is she still picking fights with Wade??? You're both adults! Act like it! The whole dinner scene over all was just painful to watch. It felt waaaay too similar to some dinners I've had with my own family, which yes, points for accuracy I guess, but I just felt like Knuckles the entire time. Awkward, wishing they'd just quit arguing and enjoy dinner, feeling out of place. I'm not sure if that's what they were going for or not. (The fight scene to protect the candles was very nice though :D)

Second: Pachacamac. I dunno, he was really annoying, and not at all like his power hungry, war mongering, cold, game counterpart. I also feel like he was really unnecessary? He probably could've been written out really easily. His 'funny' bits weren't even that funny and there was so many other opportunities for comedy during the episodes. He was really unneeded.

Finally: Almost everything in episode 4. The . . . low quality rock opera thing???? I'll admit, that the way they did all the practical effects and stuff was really cool! But everything else? WHY. Why are we doing this? Why are we singing? Why are we cutting Knuckles out of almost an entire episode? Why?????? I feel like this episode could've been done so many other different ways. HOWEVER! I really enjoyed the bit at the end. Seeing Wade stand up to Sinclair was AMAZING and I was cheering him on the whole time.

I kinda also wish they'd hinted at the third movie a bit. For a bit of set up. But they did clear up that GUN didn't always go by GUN, which I guess fixes our 'how did GUN kill Maria if they were only created after the first movie' problem!

Anyway, save for a few rough patches, this is a really good show! (Probably would've been better with one episode per week though. Can you imagine the suspense factor?? Would've been EPIC!!)

#Sky Queen #Sky reviews #Sonic the Hedgehog #sonic cinematic universe #SCU #Knuckles series #knuckles series spoilers #Knuckles the Echidna #knuckles wachowski #wade whipple #wanda whipple #chief pachacamac

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wizardsaur · 6 months ago

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I've been struggling a lot lately. Which is fine. This is tumblr and I'm allowed to be myself on here.

I'm self diagnosed autistic, please don't come at me about this. The story's kind of funny, but I've been repeatedly peer reviewed by a over a dozen formally diagnosed autistics - in vastly different scenarios - and they all tag me within 20 minutes. Up to this point, I've managed life with whatever brain spicy... and nowadays, I feel like I have my needs met most of the time.

Which is to say, I was okay never getting diagnosis for it I live in the US and Ableism is a massive fucking problem here. I advocated, I stood with my folks. And I was proud to be a support for folks with higher needs than me.

Something is different about me, and I thought for sure I knew what it was. I figured I'd just have to work harder than all the normies for a "Normal" life. I was willing to make that work.

But now... my body doesn't stop hurting. An old friend, the first "pretty sure you're autistic" friend and I had gotten back in touch lately. I truly wanted to be friends again, because our lives kinda fell apart at the same time way back when. We didn't get a chance to really be friends, we were just sad in the same close knit circle.

So I asked her, "You have this disorder, right? This set of disorders that tend to exist together for some fucking reason..... can I give you a list of shit that's been happening lately, and you tell me if I'm crazy?"

My symptoms, as well as a million other little symptoms that put me in the: "I'm pretty sure I have hEDS and POTS, because this has been my entire life.... it's just NEVER been this bad before."

I'm starting to need mobility aids, I'm slowing down. I need to wear braces now, and I can't keep acting like that isn't the case. It's been getting bad since like, late June - and then something clicked when I tried to quit my job.

My boss is a dick and I'm an overworked overachiever. I tried to walk out quit on him, out of the blue. When we were already understaffed, I might add (and had been, for months). I got back from a road trip Sunday, and went back to work - hoping things would be better..... and it was still a shitshow. Wednesday, I decided I was leaving on my day off - Thursday.

The motherfucker got me to stay. I made a 50 year old man cry, and he got me to stay. It was desperate, and it sounded so sincere, and he promised things would change... it's been a month. His supervisor shows up next week, and her higher up too. I stayed. I believed him....

Saturday night, I'm moving slow. Everything hurts like it did on the road trip. But now it's worse, and nothing's going away like it used to. And suddenly, I remember- things aren't supposed to hurt all the time. The usual amount of pain, is no pain.

Monday at lunch... I couldn't hold a fork. I ugly cried in the break room. A customer passed me to get to the bathroom and hugged me - I don't know her name. I'm 27. I was sobbing in a stranger's hug for a minute. (Whoever you are, if you see this, thank you.)

I went to the doctor, and have been taken seriously about my hEDS & POTS concern ever since. It's only been a few weeks, and I hope I'm not jinxing it... but. Doctors and therapists have heard me, and replied: "How did you not face this sooner? That is very likely your issue. Let's direct you to the right resources."

Which is WILDLY FUCKING DIFFERENT from every single other experience I've ever read or heard from anyone else. Maybe for once, things will work the way they need to. The way they should in a perfect society. And either I'll get diagnosed as hEDS with POTS, or I won't and we can find out what the issue really is. Because I'm in chronic pain, and it fits the bill unnervingly well.

The wild thing, is my life tends to completely shift gears every yea or two- over a few weeks. In absolutely bananas story ways. I had an apocalypse vision once, lost everything a month later.

I can't help but wonder if there's some big Universal Life Test built into this experience. But I moved my altar. And I'm finishing a journal. I feel like next month will be the start of my Real Adult Life. It's hard to explain. I'm very lucky to be having a Good Side to this whole situation.

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gdcatboys · 2 years ago

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I've been writing some roleswap snippets! and I'm coming here for advice.

I've left them aside for a looong while, in part due to the sensitive material. I don't feel I'm tackling everything about it properly, and that makes me kind of nervous to post them. i ask myself if i needed to be more careful with the way it's all written, or if i should have had more conversations about the themes with other people. Especially because it's heavy topics that i don't feel i have a good grip on. Though I also haven't really been able to speak about it with anybody else and get insight for....multiple different reasons.

Maybe I'm asking too much of mediocre writing skills, to tackle everything perfectly first try. but I am also quite fond of what i have written so far.

I'm at a loss on what to do here: slap in all the warnings and tags and mandatory dead dove, and call it a day? I feel as though trying to find a different way of going about is just out of my depth at that point.

I also kind of worry i will regret putting it out there at some point. That might just be a problem for future Anon, though.

First off, roleswap snippets! Love roleswap so much, this is exciting. XD

So, without actually reading what you've written, I can only talk about what writing the original is like? There are definitely some heavy themes, and we've had to be pretty careful with them. Sometimes characters will have viewpoints that don't line up with our own (Techno and sex work comes to mind), but I think the most important part is to just treat each character like a person? As long as the reactions and the way each character acts feels relatable, people will forgive a lot.

Also, there's probably a little voice in your head saying you're a bad person for writing about non-con and slavery and that people will hate you for it, etc, etc. Just go ahead and smash that little voice. That's your inner puritan. It's an asshole.

Anyways, I have no idea if this helped at all??? You're welcome to dm us if you want, and I can talk to you about more specific stuff you're struggling with and see if I can't help??

#katy answers #you can also post on anon #but yeah idk man people are pretty forgiving just murder that voice in your head saying i'ts bad #btw i'm dead serious feel free to message us and i can talk to you or read over what you've got #it's friday night i got nothing better to do

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schizononagesimus · 2 months ago

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You know what I'm gonna add to this here instead of in the tags. I'm homeless. It's not my first time; I missed most of 4th grade because my mom is disabled and had just escaped an abusive boyfriend. We were mostly squatting then, because one of our friends owned some real estate and would leave the apartments unlocked for us when they were unoccupied.

I was kind of born into this. Seriously, I see why people think we're a "breed". Most homelessness is chronic, and a lot of people can't fathom why. But here's one scenario that might help explain that:

Your family is poor. Your family isn't exactly mentally well, either, so you mostly don't speak to each other; you have to make your own family and support networks.

You manage to go to a prestigious university on a scholarship once, and then manage to get student loans to get your Master's degree in a city far away from home. You work all throughout school, supporting yourself completely on your own.

You do groundbreaking research that becomes internationally renowned, earning you keynote talks, grants, journal publications.

Naturally, you apply for PhDs. And you get in! Without funding. And it's $40,000 a year without living costs. You can't take anymore student loans out- you've already hit the borrowing limit. Your family can't help you. During all of this, your job experiences a budget freeze, and has to slash their office staff by half. Suddenly, you have no job, no family to help with living expenses, and nothing lined up for... God, rent is due in 30 days.

You apply to jobs, but thirty days is never enough time to find anything, so you set up a GFM. It gets close to the goal, but is $300 off, so you take out an extra credit card to pay the last of your rent for that month.

You can't afford that rent again, it's just too difficult to swing in your situation, so you decide to move back to the city your undergrad was in, since you have friends there who you could stay with and more job opportunities. You reduce everything you own to two suitcases and get the cheapest flight out.

You sleep on your friend's sofa bed for a couple of weeks before a shitty retail job comes through for you. It doesn't matter what the job is, or that the money isn't enough, it's a job to at least keep you afloat for a little while while you look for other employment.

The problem? You have to save up money for an apartment. Housing is already scarce unless you know someone. Subletting a room is really your only option to have a place of your own, since you can't get a cosigner with good credit to back you up since your own credit tanked because you can't pay off the credit card debt you got into to prevent yourself from being suddenly homeless. You also don't have 3x the monthly rent in income, or a crazy savings account, or the money for a deposit. So you still have to sleep on your friend's sofa bed, even though you have a job.

You try to look for another job, but you're working so many hours that it's difficult to find the time. You work on your feet, so when you get home you just crash. The management at your job isn't good. In fact, it's so bad that someone in upper management regularly "takes advantage" of you being a minority. Disgusted, you tell your direct supervisor. The day after, you're fired.

Out of a job (and now in the middle of a pro bono lawsuit), your friends let you sleep on their sofa bed for a little while longer. You had spent most of your paychecks paying off debt so you could get an apartment, so you don't have much savings.

But eventually, your friends just need the space, plain and simple; they have other friends and family to take care of. You have to find somewhere else, and so you sleep on other friends' couches, and stay in hotels people put you up in, and stay with your partner when their roommate is gone, and try to set up a petsitting gig that might get you through one more month. Your friends introduce you to other people who might be able to help, too.

You try to apply to jobs. It's really hard to find the time to apply between changing houses and worrying about money, not to mention that you have to cross your fingers and hope they don't want an in person interview because you don't have the clothes for it. You're lucky you can use your alumni status for a private space to take an interview in at the library.

You want to apply to PhDs again, because if you get funding then that's it--this hell can end. But applying to PhDs was the hardest thing you ever did academically and by itself took every ounce of your time and energy--jobless and houseless, you simply don't have that right now. Hell, the only reason you're eating is because a friend made you leftovers. How are you supposed to apply to PhDs like this?

This is what happened to me.

I still have other unhoused people come up to me on the street and ask for money, and I have to tell them man, me too. And sometimes we get to talking about how the hell we ended up here. In my experience, it's mostly people like me- not a lot of family, a minority, an education of some kind, and one bad day.

Having degrees doesn't guarantee a job, and having a job doesn't guarantee housing. A lot of the reason people stay homeless is because you don't have the resources to get a job (interview clothes, a good internet connection, a place to take a call), the job market is a nightmare, they then need to save up for a house, the housing market is a nightmare, and then there's the problem of being hungry and needing healthcare (and in most states, you can't get government support on that without an address). Not to mention the issue with women's shelters generally being full up, and if they're not, you can only have a small locker of items with you... So say goodbye to most of your clothes and other items and have fun trying to buy those back if/when you get back on your feet. So basically, you're homeless because you don't have a job, and you don't have a job because you're homeless, and the cycle repeats. This is why homelessness is chronic.

This is why shit like tent cities happen, and that's not an option for me because my city has the cops sweep them out nightly. That's somebody's home (and God that tent cost a lot of money). Mostly my friends are just trying to keep me out of the shelter so I don't have to rebuild my entire life again, more so than I already have to.

I will say, I feel lucky that I've gotten the donations and other help I've gotten. The problem with being any minority is that your support system is most likely going to be people who are just at risk as you are. I'm also lucky I'm able to have healthcare, because straight up if I didn't I'd be dead without my medication.

This is just one example, and it's very different than what happened to my mom because of her disability--but that's her story to tell.

PS- in the US, there are four definitions of homeless, so please, if you hear "I'm couchsurfing" or "sleeping in my car," please hear HOMELESS. A lot of people are too ashamed to say it or just don't know that that's what they are because they have clean clothes and technically don't sleep outside.

#gonna put this in my jokey little couchsurfing tag just in case people are curious as to what happened to me lol #the homeless diaries #my kofi is in my bio and my comms are open for anyone reading this :)#lessons of the hand and the mouth

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van-yangyin · 3 years ago

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It’s Van and this is my sims blog

Hi, this is my sims blog. 🧑‍🤝‍🧑👬👭👫 🌕Non-Binary☀️he/they🌕

It's my first time here on Simblr but since 2019 I've been on my sims Twitter sharing edits and renders I've been doing [UPDATE: currently, I've been here since April of last year]. I hope to meet a lot of new people around here and that we can connect through our sims. So far I've mainly posted things I've uploaded on my Twitter with the date and link to my original tweets, but now that I'm up to date on all my social networks, everything I post will be new content. I'm in love with Final Fantasy series, Kingdom Hearts, SK8 the Infinity and DRAMAtical Murder (❤️FF/KH/SK∞/DMMD❤️) so apart from OCs (Mainly ❤️Our Sims JAKK❤️/❤️LukaNoah❤️/❤️IcarRyu❤️/❤️Generación Luna❤️), that's what you'll mainly find here.

~More detailed info below the cut~

This first part is for those who know about one, two or all of those anime/videogames and are interested in knowing in more detail what you can find here and what I'm mainly interested in. If you don't understand meaning of any emoji but know about, don't hesitate to ask me (also as anon if you're too shy) I don't put full names so as not to bother tags unless it's to explain something specific.

Characters that most interest me, enjoy analizing them and/or are comfort (without order of preference):

SK∞: 🐶🌹🌸🐯©️ (Yeah, Carla too, but as Sakurayashiki-sensei's inseparable AI)

DMMD: 🎧🧠🐇💧🧸👓🧁🐶📖

FF15: 🎣📸👞🍴

KH: Destiny Trio, Seasalt Trio, Wayfinder Trio and Twilight Quartet

🧑‍🤝‍🧑👬👭👫 of comfort/I enjoy analyzing their dynamics:

SK∞: ~Mainly (without order of preference)~ 🐶🌹🐶(TRUE EDEN)/🐯🌸🐯(SOLE CILIEGIO)/🌸©️/🌹🌸🐯🐶 (All their ships combination as platonic or romantic)/🐯🌸©️ ~Sometimes~ ❄️🌺❄️/🌷🔧~🌷🌼 (Oka and our female sim OC Haruno Hanami made by me and my dear friend Lea, tho finally Hiromi chose Oka by himself)/🐱(By now he prefers to be surrounded by kittens and puppies)

DMMD: 🎧🐇/🧠🐇/🧠💧/👓🧁

FF15: 🎣📸/👞🍴/🎣📸👞🍴

KH: 💞/ ✍️ 🐚/ ⭐️💰 /🌞🌝

In relation to SK8 The Infinity I want to clarify that in this blog characters are treated as in anime, when they're themselves are called by their real names and surnames and when they're “S” skaters by their “S” names (except for Reki and Miya for obvious reasons). Here you won't find me calling Kaoru, "Cherry/Cherry blossom" when he's not an S skater (unless it's part of the story/writing and it's in context because he's called that by someone else for whatever reason at the time). Also feel free to block me if you don't like or are uncomfortable with Shindo Ainosuke/ADAM for whatever personal reason you have, HERE YOU WON'T FIND HATRED TOWARDS HIM BUT YOU WILL FIND A LOT OF CONTENT OF HIM.

I don't mind other people's likes/loves, but I want you to know that I won't interact with things I don't like or make me feel uncomfortable (things I already have muted), so I have no problem with interacting with the likes we do share. 💞 As long as you don’t try to impose on me what I don’t like (since I never try to impose on anyone what I love/like). Although I also want to make it clear that I have no problem debating politely with people whose opinions are contrary as long as those opinions aren't make in an aggressive way. But I will never start this kind of debates as I mainly come here to have fun and analyze characters and dynamics of everything I love (including my OCs).

There are many more in FF but I would never finish so I summarized it with the ones I currently interact with the most.

From here on, information for everyone who only come for sims theme in particular.

All are Original Characters made by me and @lea-heartscxiv (here mainly shown as Sims version). Our Original Characters are morally gray characters, aren't labeled as either "good" or "bad" characters, they're just humans/supernatural beings that make mistakes, either because of past they've had, how they've been raised, circumstances around them or their personal/mental situations to give a few examples. That is, they will only be "good" or "bad" for other characters around them, who will see them in one way or another depending on their points of view. If that makes you feel uncomfortable you can stop following me, and block me if you wish.

Our OCs JAKK: 🛹 Jack Santos~Aris Angelopoulos~Kyle Ishikawa~Kyla Ishikawa 🛹(Original characters made by me and my dear friend Lea, Jack, Aris and Kyle are in a polyamorous ralationship and Kyla is little sister of Kyle [toddler])

Our OCs IcarRyu: 🌠 Icaro d’Angelo~Ryuuya Kitta 🌠(Original characters made by me and my dear friend Lea, we really love that togheter their ship's name formed the phrase I carry u (I carry you) because they're always supporting each other and trying to move forward in their day to day lives despite helicopter parents they have.)

🦊Our OCs The Great deities of northeast🐺: Story made by me and my dear friend Lea, that we're doing in comic version and soon we will start publishing surely in Webtoon and Tapas.

Our OCs Generación Luna: 🌕 Kibou~Orfeo~Sagar~Badir🌕 (Original Characters made by my dear friend Lea but very dear to me, they’re warlock, vampire, merman and werewolf in order respectively) [We haven't yet presented them here]

(For the moment I will write only those ones)

Thank you so much to all CC creators for some CC and poses I sometimes use in my sims. If you have questions or are curious about something specific, my asks are always open for WCIF questions or any other question). Hope you like my renders and edits!

I convert, recolor and create CC of everything I love, which I use in my sims.

⚠️‼️ If you follow me exclusively for Custom Content I share, I just want you to know that all Custom Content I make is for familiar use unless I decide to share it, thanks for understanding. If isn’t in any of my social networks for free download is because I haven’t shared it. You can ask me, but first read all my F.A.Q. so as not to ask questions that I have already answered there. I don’t want anyone to follow me without knowing what they will and won’t find here, I’m a 3D artist so mainly everything I do is to learn, experiment, use in my renders and enjoy with my friends, thanks for your understanding. If after reading my FAQ it bothers you that I don’t share everything I do, you are always free to unfollow me. ‼️⚠️

If you want to see gameplay of characters I make, you can find them here and at my dear friend @lea-heartscxiv. There are certain stories that some things we make "alive" since we play characters indicating it in each post and we speak and publish as them. I use to put: (This is a post from his point of view) at top of post below title. Some of our publications or some publications can also be found in our Blogger, both in English and Spanish, where are more organized and easy to read all together for everyone.

English is not my native language so it's not very good, I'm sorry if I'm not understood very well sometimes. Apart from English you can write me in 日本語, Español, Italiano, Català, Gallego, Euskara or any other language you want, as long as you keep in mind that in some of them I will use translator to understand you better and it may not translate well.

On the other hand when there are any trigger warnings (tw), even if I post it as sensitive content and the type of content, I'll add hashtag warnings. Although for now the only Trigger warning (tw) I have is [#tw: child abuse allegory]. And I always put at their own post on top the same picture very, very blurred with the trigger warning and the picture without blurry is usually placed below the cut line so you can avoid it at all costs if you don't want to see it.

I want to clarify that I don't make art that shows delicate material in a direct way, because personally I like more to portray that kind of material from the psyche or with subtlety, and in this way practice metaphors in pictures, since metaphors are something I have a hard time interpreting. That doesn't mean that I ever try to do something less subtle, but I will never try to do it in a way that I personally don't like.

I will also be happy to meet new people around here to share sims experiences. Lastly I want to point out that anything I tagged as [#van-yangyin], [#my sims], [#my sk8 sims] (and some other tags that you can see when go to one of them, although if it's a series, try to put the name of the series) and my Custom Content is tagged as [#VanS4CC]. For other users' posts I use [#reblog] tag and [# with the user's name]. And for my self reblogs I use [#self reblog time] I really don't like tzr hashtag because it hasn't my personality. You can find my other social networks here.

Thanks for reading to the end, I will surely edit it and update it when I remember something else I should write.

Have a happy simmer day! 💛 🍀

#van-yangyin #new on simblr #sims 4

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peterrparrkerr · 4 years ago

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Moodboard for the series (don't judge me I usually do gifs, this was something new. Also, I could not get the collar to look right)

So I meant to upload this yesterday but I lost control of it and then got busy, so here's a little over 3k for you!

Also, tagging @snowstark because this is our baby. Ao3 version here!

Idk what to tag this. Dark themes, spanking, forced to choose a punishment, uuuh, not sure what else. Enjoy!

*-*

Bucky knows when Peter is going to have a hard time adjusting to Tony being gone. It had been close to a year since Bucky started working for Tony, and he's gotten familiar with all of Peter's little quirks.

And he knows the slight pout Peter sports as he waits beside Bucky for Tony to come to the door, means Peter's going to be a slight handful.

But Bucky can handle the teenager. He's been in charge of Peter's safety for long enough. Aside from Tony, Bucky knows how to get Peter to do as he's told.

Tony comes down the stairs, suit tailored and travel bag in hand. "What a sight," he grins. "My pets waiting for me."

Bucky clenches his jaw at that, but he doesnt say anything. Peter though, steps up to the Superior nuzzling into Tony's chest.

"Don't go," Peter whined. Bucky watched with a familiar jealous rock in his gut, but he stays still.

"I'll be back in five days," Tony sighed, kissing the top of Peter's curly hair.

Peter's in a pair of soft blue jean shorts and a faded Yankees sweater, the bottom cut off to show off his midriff.

Tony pushes Peter back a little and smiles fondly down at him, fingers fixing the collar around his puppy's neck, little bell tinkling.

"You be good," Tony orders, leaning down to kiss Peter's pouty lips.

Peter sulks as Tony steps away, towards the door and closer to Bucky.

"I'll be back late," Tony hums, patting Bucky on the cheek. "I'll see you both when I get back."

And with that, Tony's gone. Bucky rubs at his cheek with a slight scowl. Its a new thing, Tony touching him. And Bucky doesn't like it.

Peter spins on his heels the moment the door is shut and storms off, making Bucky sigh explosively before making his way after him.

Alpine slows him down by weaving between his legs, meowing needily.

"Damn cat, go away," he snaps, nearly kicking the thing before remembering she's Peter's.

The door to Peter and Tony's bedroom slams and Bucky sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

So it's going to be like this then. Bucky decides to let Peter wallow on his own. Sooner or later his emotions would get the best of him and he'd come out for comfort. Bucky wouldn't force him to before then.

Its the same song and dance. Peter cries when Tony's gone, he doesn't eat much, and just kind of sulks around the house.

If he were a real puppy, Bucky could just imagine him crying at the door with his tail tucked between his legs, looking extra pathetic.

It was during these days when Tony wasn't around that Peter got a little less obedient.

Most incidents Bucky kept to himself. Little scenes of Peter acting out of his emotions. Tony didn't need to be informed of everything.

The bigger incidences though was definitely taken to Tony. They hadn't had an incident in a while -not since Peter ran out and Bucky got shot.

Peter had been terrified after that, refused to leave the tower even with Buck and Tony there with him.

Tony had punished him good and hard for that -it still makes Bucky's stomach roll at the thought of Tony hitting Peter. Bucky still remembers how small he looked when Tony had guided him back into the penthouse.

His eyes all red, tear tracks down blushed cheeks. He had been trembling slightly. It had made Bucky sick to his stomach.

But Peter hadnt done it again. When Tony left, Peter stayed put.

"Peter, time to eat," Bucky called after knocking on the bedroom door. Peter had been locked in there for most of the two days so far Tony's been gone.

He sulks under his covers, and when he does come out, its with a pout. Something Bucky is used to.

"M'not hungry," comes Peter's petulant response through the door.

"Yes you are, pup," Bucky sighed. "Come on, out with you before I come in there."

"Said I wasn't hungry," Peter spoke, voice raising a little. Bucky cocks an eyebrow, then tries the handle of the door. Its locked.

"Peter, open this door."

"No," Peter said.

"You open this door or I'll kick it down," Bucky threatened. Peter's never locked his door before.

"Do it!" Peter snapped. "Then Tony'll be mad at you and send you to the basement!"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Bucky muttered under his breath.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, override the lock for Peter's door," he says, looking up at the ceiling.

"I am sorry, but the lock is manual, it will have to be unlocked by Peter, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky growls, clenching his teeth.

"Open the door, Peter," he tries again.

"No."

"C'mon, pup, open up," Bucky sighed. He really didn't want to break down the door. What has gotten into Peter? He's never like this.

"Nuh-uh," Peter said. "Leave me alone."

"You know I can't do that, Pete," Bucky huffed.

"I don't need a babysitter," Peter called out. "I can take care of myself. Tony doesn't need you anymore."

"You've got five seconds and then I'm breaking the door down," Bucky said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Peter says nothing. Bucky begins to count. He thinks Peter will crack when he reaches two, but the boy doesn't make a sound.

"Alright, last chance."

Nothing.

Bucky tries the handle once more before stepping back. He lowers his shoulder, ready to drive it into the wood before slamming into the door.

The frame splinters and the door slams into the wall with a deafening crack.

Peter jumps from his spot on the bed, eyes wide and mouth gaping in shock.

"What is going on with you, Peter?" Bucky demands, a little fed up with his behavior. "You've never acted like this before."

Peter's shock falls away to anger, eyebrows furrowing and arms crossing.

"Get out."

"No, you need to tell me why you're acting like a brat," Bucky demanded, crossing his own arms.

"M'not a brat," Peter snipped, little bell sounding as Peter turned his head away from Bucky, glaring at the wall.

"No? 'Cause you seem pretty bratty to me," Bucky challenged.

That gets Peter standing from the bed. "I'm not!"

"I'm not going to fight with a fucking child," Bucky muttered to himself. "Go into the dining room and eat your lunch."

Peter sets his jaw. Its cute. Little thing trying to be tough.

"I said I'm not hungry."

"Well, Tony wants you to eat," Bucky tries. Usually talking about what Tony wants would get Peter to do as he's told. But it doesn't work today.

So Bucky grabs Peter by the upper arm and pulls him out of the room. Peter grunts, digging his heels in, but he's small and doesn't have much muscle.

"Eat," Bucky demands, gesturing to the food he sits Peter down in front of.

Peter glares up at him, though its not as effective as he thinks with his pastel blue tshirt and matching collar.

"I hate you," Peter bites out.

"Good for you, now eat your God damn lunch before I force feed you."

To say the next three days is difficult is an understatement. Bucky has no idea why Peter's acting out the way he is, but he's had enough.

On the fourth day, Bucky actually swatted him! Peter looked up at him with wide eyes, mouth clicking shut. Bucky instantly felt sick, but he forced himself to stand his ground even as hurt and anger filtered through Peter's features.

"You hit me," Peter said. It made Bucky feel even worse, but he didnt back down.

"You're being bad," Bucky said. More anger filtered in, and Peter reached forward to try and shove him.

Bucky caught him by the wrists and Peter yelled loudly, beginning to flail.

"Peter, stop it!" Bucky snapped, pulling the pup in close and pinning him against his chest. He doesn't have room to thrash now.

"I hate you! I hate you!" Peter yelled. Bucky can hear the beginnings of tears in his voice. "I don't want you here! I want- I want Tony!"

Bucky holds Peter as he chokes on his tears, forcing Bucky to carry his weight when Peter stops holding himself up.

Bucky let's him cry it out, walking him to his bedroom. The door still wasn't fixed -Bucky didn't have time, what with Peter acting out.

He deposited Peter onto the bed. "You can come out when you're done being a brat," Bucky said shortly. Peter just fell to his side, wrapping his arms around a pillow and drawing up his legs.

Bucky walked out and flopped onto the couch, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling.

Maybe Tony would know what Peter's problem was. Just because he's never acted like this since Bucky moved in doesn't mean its never happened before.

Bucky's never been more glad when Tony arrives the next morning. He's exhausted. Tony -the perceptive bastard- notices right away when Bucky greets him at the elevator.

"What happened," Tony demanded. Bucky let out a sigh, shoulders slumping just a bit. He didnt like feeling like a whiner, and explaining to Tony what the past five days have been like definitely makes him feel it.

"I don't know whats gotten into him," he finishes with. He just wants to sleep for a couple days. He's never felt more like a babysitter than he does now.

"Oh, I do," Tony huffed. Bucky raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "He's jealous."

That throws Bucky for a loop. "Jealous? Of what?" He can't help but demand incredulously.

Tony smiles knowingly and lifts his hand, brushing his fingers over Bucky's jaw, pinching his chin and giving a little shake.

"Of you, pet," Tony hums, looking amused. "He's used to getting my full attention. I think he's feeling a bit misplaced."

Bucky lifts his head, pulling his chin free from Tony's grasp and taking a small step back.

"He's got no reason to be jealous of me," Bucky grunted.

"No?" Tony asked. "Lets go see our puppy then, hmm?"

Bucky frowns as Tony walks past him into the penthouse. Our puppy?

He quickly spins on his heels and follows after Tony. Theres a disapproved hum when Tony notices the door leaning against the door.

"Tony!"

Peter scrambles from the bed, rushing over to Tony and crashing into his chest. Bucky keeps his distance, hands clasped behind his back.

"I missed you."

"I'm sure," Tony hummed. "Bucky told me about your behavior while I was gone."

Bucky winces in sympathy at the tone Tony uses with Peter. The pup steps back from him, brows furrowing.

"I-"

"I don't want any excuses," Tony interrupted. Bucky watched as Peter's demeanor shifted. He knew he was in trouble, he could see it in the way Peter's shoulders slumped.

"Go wait for me in your room," Tony continued. "And when we're gone, we're going to have a talk."

"But, Tony‐" Peter began. Tony grabs him by the arm and yanks him towards the elevator that leads to the basement.

"Go," he snaps, features twisting into a look of anger. Bucky holds his ground, but he wants to rush back out of Tony's line of fire.

Peter shrinks at the tone. He doesn't try again, just makes his way to the elevator, like a dog scurrying out of trouble with his tail between his legs.

"Are you really going to punish him?" Bucky asked, following Tony towards the elevator Peter had just disappeared through. "If he's just acting out of jealousy-"

"His acting out got me a broken door and a puppy with an attitude problem," Tony said. "I brought you here to take care of him while I'm away. His behavior hindered that and that won't do."

Bucky follows Tony into the elevator. He doesn't say anything, just stands beside Tony, watching the floors pass in glowing numbers above the doors.

When they reach the basement floor, the doors open and Tony steps out, already heading for the door that leads to Peter's room.

"Come on, pet," Tony calls over his shoulder. Bucky's legs work without him, taking him out of the elevator and into the main room.

"I'm not a pet," Bucky grunted. Tony glances over his shoulder, smirking. His blue eyes shining with amusement.

"I beg to differ," Tony hummed, before reaching a hand out and clasping Bucky by the back of the neck.

Bucky allows the Superior to pull him closer as they make their way to the door.

Buck decides not to argue the issue. Better to keep on Tony's good side.

Tony opens the door, and Bucky's eyes widen at the sight of Peter on the bed, naked. Hes on his elbows and knees, pert little ass up in the air.

He's hidden his face in his arms, and doesn't realize Bucky is here with Tony.

"He does paint a pretty picture, doesn't he?" Tony murmurs lowly, arm still wrapped around Bucky's shoulders, nosing at Bucky's jaw.

"I can leave," Bucky says lowly, glancing from Peter to Tony.

"No, I want you here," Tony decides, shutting the door. Bucky chews on his inner cheek, staying close to the door as Tony walks over to the wall of -Bucky feels his stomach drop. He doesn't know if he can watch this.

"M'sorry," Peter whines, turning his head to see Tony at the wall.

"I know you are," Tony said, looking over the items hanging on the wall. Bucky's never seen so many switches and floggers before.

"But that doesn't change the fact that you were a bad puppy."

Peter's breath hitches and he hides his face again. Bucky watches Tony pick out a flat leather paddle from the wall. One of the less intimidating items hanging on the wall.

"How many hits do you think he deserves?" Tony says, catching both Peter and Bucky off guard. Peter's head turns, wide eyes locking onto him before he seems to shrink, hiding his face away again, but not leaving the position Tony most likely trained him to be in.

It takes Bucky a moment to realize Tony was talking to him, and he blinks, looking over at the Superior. "What?"

"You had to deal with his poor behavior for five days, so you decide his punishment," Tony said.

Bucky looks wide eyed at Peter, pale and naked except for the baby blue collar around his neck. He shakes his head.

"Come on, pet," Tony goads. "What does he deserve?"

Bucky hears Peter whimper at that and he feels his skin crawl. He shakes his head again, feeling sick. "I can't."

Tony's mouth drops in a frown, looking disappointed. Bucky doesn't care. He can't.

"Fine," he hums. "Then fifty hits."

Peter lifts his head, breath hitching and tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Ten for each day."

Bucky feels his throat closing up.

"N-no," Peter sobbed. "No, please, Tony!"

Tony looks at Bucky, challenging glint in his Extremis blue eyes. "Bucky doesn't want to choose, so I'm chosing for him, puppy."

Peter turns to look at Bucky, pleasing with a trembling breath.

Bucky digs his nails into his palms. He looks from Peter to Tony, then back to Peter.

If Bucky chooses a lower number, Tony may not agree to it. But Bucky doesn't want Peter being hit -especially in front of him.

"Twenty," he manages to say, unsticking his throat. His voice is tense, body rigid and hands clasped behind him. Outwardly, he looks calm and collected, but inside he wants to do nothing but run out of the basement.

Tony doesn't say anything for a moment, and Bucky's sure its just as long for Peter as it is for him.

"Alright, twenty it is," Tony agrees. Bucky feels the muscles in his shoulders unwind a little at that.

"Count them out, pup."

Its the worst few minutes of Bucky's life. He served tours over seas. He's killed people with his bear hands and lost an arm, and he'd go through all of that ten times if it meant he didn't have to be in the same room as Tony and Peter right now.

Each smack has Bucky's pulse spiking, each sobbed out count down like agony. Its a punishment all its own to be forced to stand by while Peter cries, the loud smack of leather on skin filling the room.

The worst thing is Bucky is the reason he's got twenty spanks in the first place. Sure, its less than fifty, but he's still the one who offered a number.

Bucky doesn't even care anymore about Peter's behavior. He just wants Tony to stop.

Peter's ass is just as red as his face, and his breath hitches on cries, but the boy doesn't move. Bucky has no doubt if he had, the punishment would be far worse.

"Twen-twen'y," Peter finally gasps out wetly, dropping onto the bed.

Bucky restrains himself from rushing over there and scooping the boy up. His nails dig painfully into his palms.

He watches Tony do it instead. Watches as Tony's hand turns soft, scooping Peter up and settling him onto his lap, careful of his poor bottom.

Tony smooths Peter's curls from his forehead, muttering lowly against Peter's cheek as the boy cries, arms lifting to wrap around Tony's shoulders.

Tony glances up at Bucky and nods. "Come here, pet."

Bucky's too concerned with Peter to argue the pet name. He makes his way over to the bed in three long strides and sits down beside Tony and Peter.

Peter peeks out from Tony's neck, eye red rimmed. His breath hitches.

"M'sorry, Bucky," he cries, voice reedy and wobbling with tears.

"Thats alright, Pete," Bucky said softly.

Peter tucks himself back into Tony's neck, allowing the Superior to smooth his hands up and down Peter's bare back.

"Go with with Bucky, pup," Tony says a moment later, once Peter's tears have tapered off a little. Bucky's eyes widen at that, but he can't do much else, because Peter's crawling out of Tony's lap and settling into his own.

Bucky doesn't know what to do. He's wearing cargo pants, and he can't help but worry they're too rough for Peter.

And then he's stuck on the fact that he's got a very naked Peter in his lap. The boy leans into Bucky's chest, head resting on his shoulder.

Bucky settles a hand on Peter's lower back -as low as he dares- and rubs circles into his skin.

"I think its time we had a little talk," Tony said, looking first at Peter, then at Bucky.

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #bucky barnes #sim!tony #my writing #ao3 #human puppy #starker #winterironspider

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potatoesandsunshine · 3 years ago

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Hi as a known fan of paladins being captured in upsetting ways my friend has sent me your post and now I’m here. I’d be delighted if you would elaborate on the situation 🥺

hi yes hello i would LOVE to elaborate on the situation. my paladin is named beatrice pyre and i tag things for her / general dnd posts if you're ever curious about it :) but this situation specifically!!! i am Losing My Mind!!! it's extremely good. literally feels like we just had some kind of midseason finale

so BASICALLY her uncle is the viceroy and now regent of her country, they're at war with the very pro-necromancy country next door, the party has been going around looking for evidence to get him out of power bc we think the whole war is a Suspicious Plot. so for the last three sessions we've been breaking into his suuuuper haunted estate (coincidentally the place my paladin grew up! haha! was it always like this? she doesn't know!)

it's been extremely rough!! we're level 8 so things really hit back now in very strong ways!! and my paladin is very... not to steal skyrim's thunder but when they call people doom-driven they are actually talking about bee pyre. she's just like... she doesn't think about stopping. she will throw herself against this problem until something breaks.

this session we managed to get down to the basement of the estate and Oh Yeah It Sucks Down Here. we're talking ghosts we're talking undead we're talking pit traps. the whole nine yards. a series of tunnels full of magical darkness that doesn't like it if you cast in it. i rolled a nat1 and it still ate my spell slot :( rude :( ANYWAY we used a lot of resources fighting our way down there and trying to put our oathbreaker paladin friend back together after an incident with a hallway full of like... i don't know what to call it, chompers?? when the ceiling and floor smash together like THUD THUD THUD. so we were kinda low on spells and healing and stuff.

so we decide, hey, we didn't want to do a long rest down here because it sucks but we gotta do one. this is what historians will call a Bad Idea. also we did it in kinda the hub room that the dark tunnels branched off of which wasn't the BEST strategic thinking we've ever done. so basically, we all got hit with a strong cone of cold and nobody made saves. oof.

and bee pyre :) definitely not feeling self-destructive after losing her friend the party rogue a few days ago, definitely not feeling useless as her lover is off fighting the war, definitely not feeling like a burner that the gods forgot to turn off, says Okay :) I can sense undead in the magically dark tunnel :) I Will Go Down There And Tank :) yeah the cone of cold came from there, what could that mean? who in the world would have TWO cones of cold? (we have previously fought someone who did cast it twice. this was foolishness.) anyway there was a strong necromancer down there who immediately downed her and said "your uncle will be so disappointed that you didn't listen to his advice" and bee said "he gives shit advice" and KO. death saves start.

and then, something bee would NEVER have considered, the party heard her hit the ground (thank you plate armor :/) and started GOING AFTER HER!! in the dark tunnel!!! with the necromancer!!! who did do another cone of cold that, again, nobody saved against. bla bla bla, my friends did cool shit fighting zombies but it was a losing battle, i was feeling p bad as a player like How Could I Do This To Us, there was some epic shit from our fighter before he went down, bee stabilized while everyone else was dying which made me INSANE because she takes protection fighting so seriously, it was like a carousel ride of death saves before our DM gently cut away.

but then we woke up in a dungeon without all our stuff which INCLUDES the in-character letters i've been writing for the last few months and aaaaah

cut to my best friend our DM like, :3c Did You Like It ? and of course i did i was obsessed w everything

#anna plays dnd #sword with a broken crown #i wish i made moodboards i wanna make a bee moodboard so bad #answering asks #thanks for the ask!!! sorry i rambled so long my hands are still SHAKING what a thrill. truly Everything Possible Happened tonight

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wowowwild · 2 years ago

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I go into thinking thoughts mode here, but I want to say I love your post as is and appreciate the comedic tone, I am just unable to stop myself from diving off the deep end, I love Mia Fey and she is a loser. Read more bc it's long bc I keep going off on tangents ADHD go brrrr

Yeah tbh she wasn't good at the family stuff, and I feel really bad for Maya bc you can't have a meaningful 'you messed up' conversation when the other person is dead bc they'll never have the chance to do better or fix it as a whole. You could express little things and maybe get reasons, but Maya is always the one channelling Mia, and idk if she would ask Pearls to do it (strictly in canon. in my head they get to do all sorts of closure things but I don't think that happens in the canon timeline).

And she's not really good at the whole 'sharing' thing. Phoenix not only doesn't know what she has on Redd White, but he doesn't know she was investigating him at all. And then he does the same thing. The literal exact same thing. Are we not learning from our mistakes this season? Mans must be immune to poison bc idk why/how Kristoph didn't kill him. Unfortunately Phoenix is best equated to a nokia brick for a reason (or fortunately if you're anyone who doesn't want him to die in any number of ways he should have died. idk why I took Kristoph POV here.)

And then yeah he does the same thing to Apollo. And:

I think Phoenix knows if he tried to pull everything Mia did he would get beat within an inch of his life. I'm not saying Apollo is naturally horrendously violent (only just a little), I'm just saying a smug Phoenix Wright can draw it out of you. Which brings me back to a previous statement in the tags about Mia punching people, the Fey women are violent my goodness I've said it before, I'll say it again, it is one trait that they share, probably bc of a combination of their being sheltered in a bad family situation and then stepping out into the rest of the world and finding the cruel injustice that awaits them. Um anyway my point was I think Apollo would remind Phoenix of Mia a lot bc he out loud says the kind of things Mia would say, not just thinking them like Phoenix, and he got punched by him for doing something bad and stupid. You could actually draw a lot of parallels with Mia and Apollo tbh but that's a different too long post.

Then the last two on this one I agree. Obviously she left to find her mother, that much is undeniable. I think she also left so she and Maya wouldn't be put in the same position as Misty and Morgan, and so Maya could get a taste of the outside world as well. I don't think she told Maya any of this, Mia is, as we've discussed, not really a sharer. In Kurain village, not only would she have had the normal amount of eldest daughter duties (multiplied bc their mother left them with their aunt Mia knows is 'evil' for lack of a better term), she'd also be preparing to become the next master. And she probably didn't want to! Being the master made her mother disappear and like vivianblue said the family politics were a nightmare. She should have never been put in that situation, none of them should have. It breaks my heart when children grow up with that much responsibility and in bad environments. I think her eldest daughter syndrome probably contributed to how many secrets you kept, bc you're expected to be a sister but also the mother, and you have to take care of everyone and take on their problems without burdening them with your own and she had no one else to go to for support. I don't blame her for getting out of a bad situation. I also don't blame her for not taking Maya with her, she probably didn't make enough to support them both and at least in Kurain Maya could eat and be relatively safe for the time being. And she did talk to her, if only to pass along evidence for safe keeping.

So I can see why she would do everything she did, and she was probably doing her best, but I think if someone has pointed out that she could do better, she would have. I think if she had lived a bit longer, she would have been forced to face her actions head on and she would have grown. But we stop growing the second we die, all that potential is lost.

I keep losing my point. She absolutely messed up literally everything and while I don't think it's her fault necessarily (it is a little bit for some things at least), I do think you also can't afford to not look at it at face value bc that's what the world around her sees. And as many motivations can be given to her, it doesn't change her flaws and quirks, and I wouldn't want it to! I love her bullheadedness and occasional Fey woman violence. I love her ability to somehow be very mysterious but also a cringe fail loser at the same time.

Also I wanted to share these tags:

bc yeah. That' exactly right. We're all making bad decisions here and someone has to learn from this eventually please I am begging. Apollo us also the mysterious type, but I think if he took on someone to mentor he would at least tell them the relevant information and be way more upfront about stuff, that being said I think one day Trucy would pop into his office and his mentee would be like ??? 'I didn't even know you had a sister, let alone a famous magician sister' and Trucy would scold him and Apollo would be like 'and I'll do it again, too!' and then he would do it again bc anything personal would be a surprise. Mentee out here like 'and for the first three years I thought he was a concept that materialized when I stepped into the office existing only to grumble and solve impossible cases. turns out he is actually a real person outside of that but you'd never guess'.

Um I don't think I actually had much of a point to make but thanks for prompting thoughts! I love thinking.

the thing about ace attorney is that if you take mia's actions at face value she kind of sucks a lot but this only makes me love her more. twirling my hair as I watch her utterly fail at improving anything for her family situation ever

#i was also in a youngest shild eldest daughter situation for a while Maya I feel you #ace attorney #mia fey #maya fey #phoenix wright #trucy wright #apollo justice #wild thoughts

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willow-salix · 4 years ago

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TAG MiniBang 2021

Because the combined bad influences of Flyboy and Sonata were at work here we also decided to bend the rules a little and post early...

I was privileged to work with one of my best friends on this project, @misssquidtracy . We went a little rogue (seems to be a theme for us) and shared both parts of the challenge with both of us contributing to the art and the writing. Squiddy provided a beautifully done pallet knife piece as the background for my foreground art and we plotted the story together to ensure that it worked for both of us. We had been looking forward to sharing the writing but unfortunately, due to life constraints on her part she was only able to write a little of the fic but what she did add perfectly compliments the tone and style of my writing.

Big thanks to @tagminibang ) @godsliltippy ) for organising this event.

So, here it is, our offering to the TAG Mini Bang. We hope you enjoy it.

Ting ting ting

“Not again,” Virgil groaned, hauling himself up the stairs from the kitchen to the lounge. He regretted ever giving Gordon that bell, he really did. Yes his brother had gone through a tough time, yes he had scared the hell out of them when the Chaos Crew had left him at the bottom of the ocean in his mangled craft, yes they were incredibly grateful that he was alive and mostly whole, but if they had to hear that dinging one more time they might possibly murder him themselves.

“Yes, Gordy, what do you need?”

“I’m lonely, and I’m hungry, come and sit with me for a bit?”

“Sure-”

“But maybe make me a sandwich first?”

“A sandwich?”

“Yeah, with extra cheese and a pickle on the side, not too large a pickle but not too small that it’s gone in one bite. I want to taste it, you know, but not be overwhelmed.”

“Sure-”

“And can you get me a drink too? One of my special milkyshakes, you know, with the ice cream and frozen banana in it?”

“Coming right up,” Virgil sighed, heading back down to the kitchen again.

“Gordon still demanding everything and anything?” Scott asked as he jogged in from the poolside. His T-shirt was sticking to his chest and his hair was damp with sweat but he still looked like he could do it all again. Not that they would have time, they were lucky if they got to do any planned exercise at all, usually they were forced to skip it and work out on the job when a call came in.

“Of course he is,” Virgil growled, slapping a slice of cheese on a piece of bread with far more force than necessary.

“What did the cheese do to you?”

“It’s guilty by association.”

“Ah,” Scott said, like that explained things perfectly.

A few slices of chicken received the same treatment and Scott wondered if the meat had actually been dead when it arrived on the island or if Virgil had simply smacked it into submission so well that the chicken had flown clear into next week and arrived as sandwich filling.

“Can you fix his drink?” Virgil asked.

“Can’t gotta shower this off before Grandma accuses me of stinking up the place again.”

“Any excuse,” Virgil scowled. “It would only take you a second.”

“A second too long, bro, I’m escaping while I can and you’d be wise to do the same,” Scott said, heading for the stairs and freedom.

“How can I escape when Gordon needs help?”

“You’re forgetting one important thing,” Scott told him wisely.

“I am? And that would be…”

“John’s home.”

Virgil snorted out a laugh. “He’s less likely to do it than you are.”

“No, you're misunderstanding me. If John’s home that means…” Scott let his sentence trail off into silence heavily filled with insinuation.

“Sel’s here,” Virgil finished triumphantly, catching on perfectly.

“Give that Tracy a prize,” Scott grinned, shooting triumphant finger guns his brother’s way as he headed up the stairs.

And they said that John was the genius in the family, they hadn’t seen Scott at his most devious. Virgil wasted no time in yanking out his phone and texting the witch to come and take over.

“Here’s your sammich, Squidward,” Selene cooed, plonking the plate down on Gordon’s lap while smacking a kiss to his forehead. “Virgil started it but I finished it for you, Brains called him down to his lab with some kind of air filter emergency so I took over. I brought you some of those crisps you like from my private stash too.”

“The cheesy curl ones?” Gordon asked hopefully.

“Yep,” she grinned, waggling a family sized bag of Quavers in his general direction.

“Did you bring my drink?” Gordon asked around a mouthful of chickeny goodness. Say what you wanted about Virgil but he made a damn good sandwich, even if Gordon could taste that this was made with a little less love and a little more impatience than usual.

“No, sorry, did you want one? Virgil didn’t say that. I’ll go get you something, just wait right there.”

"Not like I can leave if the mood takes me," Gordon grumbled as he opened the chip bag.

She was already gone, only to race back in a few moments later with a can of coke.

“What? What’s wrong, boo?” Selene asked when she saw the pouting look of disappointment on Gordon’s face.

“It was supposed to be one of my special milkyshakes,” he whined.

“Right, got it, my bad!”

She was gone again, taking off to the kitchen where, upon closer inspections, she did indeed find the beginnings of a milkshake. There were two scoops of ice cream already in the blender, melting in the warmth of the room. A half peeled banana sat abandoned on the counter next to a carton of milk.

“Typical,” she groused as she set about breaking up the banana, pouring the milk and setting it to blend as she tidied the mess away. Once done she poured it into a tall glass, added a straw and a few slices of fresh banana to decorate the edges, just as he liked it, and delivered it to the waiting aquanaut.

“Great, thanks, Sel,” he grinned, handing her his now empty plate and swapping it for the glass. She put the plate on the coffee table and sat on the couch opposite him.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Sit with me and keep me company?” he begged, looking so miserable and pathetic that she couldn’t say no.

“Of course I will.”

Gordon swung his injured leg up and she moved to sit next to him on the couch, placing a cushion on her lap for him to rest his cast covered foot on.

Gordon settled down with a contented sigh, sucking happily on his straw, the milkshake level in the glass steadily dropping.

“I’m bored,” Gordon bitched five minutes later.

“That peace lasted a long time,” Selene laughed, putting her phone down on the side table to give him her full attention. “What can I do to help? Do you want to watch something or play a game?”

Gordon made a face. “You’re crap at games, Sel.”

One eyebrow rose in disbelief. “I wouldn’t exactly say crap…”

“You tried to play with Alan and died three times in two minutes, lost all your lives and were forced to float along behind him as a ghost for the rest of his turn.”

“Anything is crap when you say it like that,” Selene huffed.

“Only when it’s true.”

“Tell me then, oh great games master, what do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then don’t moan you’re bored,” she pointed out.

“I mean there’s nothing to do. No one is around.”

Selene gestured to her chest. “Am I suddenly invisible?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffed. “That would be far too cool, why don’t you have witch powers like that?”

“Because I live in the real world, not a movie?”

“Lame,” he declared, dismissing it.

“Back to the original point that I am, in fact, right here. Therefore your comment that no one is around is redundant.”

“I meant no one I can do anything with.”

“Thin ice, bub, thin ice.”

“I meant like my brothers or someone. Alan is busy revising for his final exams, Virgil’s with Brains and I’ve no idea where Scott is but I think he’s avoiding me, which is just mean if you ask me. I’m a delight.”

“Yeah, you sure are,” she drawled, not sounding too convinced. “You’re also forgetting a brother.”

“Who?”

“John? You know, gorgeous ginger love of my life that’s chilling in his room right this minute? That brother?”

“John? No way.”

“What’s wrong with John?” she squawked indignantly. Her man was the most perfect of people, amazing and fabulous, just all round awesome. Although she might be a tad biased.

Gordon shrugged, scrunching his nose up in a ‘meh’ kinda way that said everything and nothing.

“No, come on, tell me what you meant,” she demanded.

“No offence, Sel, but John’s a bit…”

“A bit what?” she asked, her tone warning him that he was in very dangerous territory.

Gordon, with the grace of an elephant and confidence of a man that knew he was injured and therefore wouldn’t get slapped, plowed on.

“A bit boring.”

“Boring?!” she hollered, her voice travelling to the four corners of the island so effectively that Alan lifted his head, wondering if some distant God was echoing his thoughts as he slogged through his history homework.

“How very dare you!” Selene continued, working up a good glare that Gordon was completely immune to. He simply sipped the last of his milkshake, smacked his lips and raised an eyebrow, daring her to do something about it.

“He is not boring.”

“Matter of opinion,” Gordon shrugged, handing her the glass to put down on the table.

“Right, that’s it, you can besmirch my fun factor but I will not allow you to do so to my man. That’s a step too far.” She gently, for which he was thankful, shoved his leg off her lap and dragged his hover chair over from its spot beside Virgil’s piano.

“Get the hell in, hoppy, we’re going for a ride.”

-x-

"You deal with him, he's driving me nuts and pissing me off at the same time."

"Me? I'm the very picture of perfection, I could never drive anyone nuts."

John declined to comment on that one for fear of never stopping, he had twenty-four years worth of stories after all.

“The pissing you off is subjective too,” Gordon finished triumphantly.

"He's your problem now," Selene announced, shoving Gordon's hover chair further into the room before making her escape, slamming the door shut behind her.

John closed his eyes, praying for patience. His fiancée was well known for her legendary patience when it came to pampering and mothering his family whenever any of them were sick or injured. She'd spent almost every day with Gordon since his run in with the Chaos Crew and had done so with relentless cheer, for her to have given up now was not a good sign.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Gordon protested hotly.

"Are you sure?"

Gordon averted his gaze, suddenly taking great interest in a dust particle dancing across the shaft of sunlight filtering in through the window, "Yes, I'm sure. I wasn't doing anything. That was part of the problem."

"Ah," there it was. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'm so bored," Gordon wailed. "And your girlfriend is being mean to me."

"Fiancée," John corrected him, not looking up from his work.

"It's not my fault I hate sitting around doing nothing all day. I’ve gone from a physically and mentally intensive, fifty plus hour a week job, to sitting on my ass from dawn until dusk. Can you blame a guy for getting twitchy?"

"Unfortunately, you don't have much of a choice at the moment," John reminded him, quite needlessly he thought.

"Gee, thanks for the reminder," Gordon huffed, trying to cross his arms although the cast and sling he was sporting prevented it. That just seemed to annoy him even more.

"I can't do anything right now! How do you do it?"

"Do what?" John asked, squinting through his magnifier at the small window frame he was carving from a piece of polymer clay.

"Just sit around all day."

John raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I don't sit around all day."

"OK, float around then. It's not like you're actively running around like the rest of us are."

"I'll pretend I never heard you say that," John scowled, wishing Selene had dumped his brother into the sea instead of into his quiet, peaceful room.

"You're sitting around right now," Gordon pointed out, gesturing to the desk John was sitting at, which was currently doing double duty as a work table for his latest project.

"One day you'll learn to appreciate the benefits of a quiet, occupied mind and a still body," John told him.

Gordon sighed, propping his good elbow on the desktop, his chin resting in his upturned palm as he watched his brother fiddling with tiny things that seemed utterly useless to him.

"What are you even doing?"

"Working on a series of book nooks for Sel's side of the bookcase," John answered, sounding slightly distracted as he measured the finished window against its place in an intricately carved brick wall.

"Why?"

"Because she likes them."

"I mean why are you making it? Can't you just buy her one? It's not like you can't afford it."

"Where's the challenge in that? Besides, things are always more special when you make them yourself."

Gordon yawned and leant forward to rest his head on the tabletop.

"Do you want to help?" John offered, although honestly Gordon's version of helping was always patchy at best.

Gordon scooted closer to look over John's shoulder, eyes darting over the rectangular box that he was building the nook inside. About the size of two thick books sandwiched together, the nook already had a little cobbled street and two shop fronts in place. The tabletop was scattered with a selection of impossibly tiny screwdrivers, picks, scalpels and other instruments of possible torture that he couldn't hope to name.

"Pass," he announced decisively, flicking the control of his hoverchair so he spun in a wide circle, pointing to the door. "I'm out."

"Peace at last," John sighed, flicking his magnifier back into place over his right eye as he set aside the window to be baked later and reached for a fresh blob of clay.

-x-

"What ya dooooooing?" Gordon yodelled, slamming the bedroom door open so hard that it smacked into the wall and shook several picture frames. He scooted his way into the room without even waiting for an invite.

"Gordon!" John huffed, clutching his heart where it was trying to leap out of his chest from the shock of his brother’s sudden, and very noisy, entrance.

"Hi, I got bored, thought I'd drop in on my favourite big brother," Gordon grinned as he glided his hoverchair closer.

"Are Scott and Virgil busy?" John asked, that would be the only reason Gordon would have promoted him to his favourite.

"Yes," Gordon admitted, "but that's not the reason why I'm here."

John turned his head to shoot him a raised eyebrow of doom, clearly communicating without words that he didn't believe him in the slightest.

"So, what are you doing?"

"Working on this book nook," John replied patiently, holding up the small cauldron he was crafting.

"The same one?"

"Yes."

Gordon’s eyes nearly fell out of his head, "Still? It’s been four days!"

"Yes," John hissed out, starting to get frustrated by the constant questions.

"Why?"

"Because it takes a long time. If you're going to do a project you should do it right."

"At the speed you're going it's gonna take forever," Gordon snorted, casting an assessing eye over the work John had already done.

"That doesn't matter," John assured him. "It's not really about the time it takes or the end result, it's about the process, the journey to get there."

"Sounds lame to me," Gordon yawned.

"Obviously," John drawled, rolling his eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" Gordon demanded to know, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Because it's you."

"Hey! Rude."

"Accurate," John said, placing the little cauldron down and selecting another piece of clay which he placed on a ceramic tile.

"Why?"

"Because it requires a calm mind. It's good to slow down sometimes and just be still."

"Says the console jockey."

Console Jockey? He did not just say that!

"So you don't think my job is stressful? Or as tiring and important as yours?" John snapped, wondering if it was bad form to smack your injured brother around the head with a partially constructed book nook. He glanced at the nook, he had put a lot of work into it… It would be a shame to waste it. That thought alone saved Gordon.

“Well, yeah I get that it might be a bit stressful, but it’s not like you have to do much that puts you in danger, not like us,” Gordon continued, digging his hole even deeper, a hole that John was looking forward to shoving him into.

“We all have our specialities, you couldn’t do your job without me doing mine,” John retorted, trying very hard not to let Gordon’s comments get to him. Gordon would never understand what it was like for him to be stuck so far away from the action, away from his brothers when things were going wrong.

Gordon, thankfully for him, had been unconscious from the moment he had activated his emergency code. He hadn’t heard the frantic calls going out over the comms as the family mobilized to help him. He hadn’t heard the desperate scramble as Thunderbirds took off, racing to the scene. But John had heard it all.

John had been the one to stay on the line with Gordon, talking to him the entire time, knowing that he probably wouldn’t hear it but feeling that he needed to say it all the same. He wanted to know that if his little brother regained consciousness for even a second he would hear a familiar voice, that he would know that they were coming, that they would rescue him. He would know that he wasn’t alone.

He knew what it was like for people that were in danger, knew the comfort they got from someone talking to them, listening to their stories, being there for them verbally if not physically. John was often the one that spent the most amount of time with those they rescued, keeping their spirits up as much as possible until his brothers got there.

His brothers were seen by their rescuees as the real heroes, the ones that leapt in and plucked them out of danger, but John was the one that got them that help, the one that made sure the rescue played out as best it could, liaising and coordinating until the job was done. But Virgil, Scott, Gordon and Alan were the ones that got the thanks , the ones that got the hugs after they dropped their charges off, not John.

Not that he minded too much, he knew that his job was just as important as theirs, maybe even more so because, when someone put out that call for help, when they sent their desperate plea out into the world, they deserved to know that someone would always be listening out for it, that someone would hear and that help would come.

He knew all of this, and he knew that Gordon did too, it was just the frustration of inactivity that was making him say the things that he was. John just wished that that knowledge made it easier to listen to.

“I might not be doing the physical rescuing,” John continued, feeling the need to push his point home. “But I work just as hard, when you’re home you’re off duty until a call comes in, you can relax, swim, watch movies and laze around until you’re needed. When I’m up there I’m on duty 24/7 and even when I do manage to catch some sleep it’s not deep or particularly restful. Any little noise, any call that triggers the system's keyword algorithm gets transferred automatically, I have to go from asleep to awake in seconds to take it.”

Gordon was quiet for once, watching him closely. John didn’t like it, it made him feel like an exhibit in a zoo. And here we have the little seen Tracy, see how he stays inside his hide and hardly ever ventures out… he knew how they saw him, why they likely thought he had the easy job.

“These help, they give me something else to focus on. I need to keep my mind active and challenged while still trying to relax.” John paused, trying to think of a way to explain his thinking that Gordon might understand.

“These are almost like a meditation,” he started. Gordon understood meditation and finding your zone. “Creating something out of almost nothing. It keeps my mind focused, helps with finger dexterity and hand eye coordination with the added bonus of it relaxing me. It’s good to slow down and take some time to do something creative, you should try it some time.”

Gordon listened to his brother and he tried to take in all his words, he tried to understand the meaning behind them, he really did, but it just didn’t make any sense to him. He understood about wanting to be lazy, to sit around and do nothing sometimes. He loved to laze on the couch with his snackies and an Into the Unknown marathon playing out on the holoscreen, but that was watching something exciting, interesting, to him that was relaxing. This...whatever it was that John was actually doing, made no sense whatsoever to him. The idea of trying to relax by actually thinking...that was the most alien concept of all.

Gordon knew, probably better than his family gave him credit for, what it was like to be mislabelled. Within every sibling pool, there were the mandatory roles: the serious one, the caring one, the smart one, the funny one, the calm one, the angry one, the one who sang in the shower, et cetera. He’d proudly embraced the role of ‘the funny one’, and had diligently flown the flag for the humour camp for as long as he could remember. If a brother came home from a rescue in a slump and needed a cheery pick-me-up, it was Gordon who stepped up to the task, irrespective of his own mood. His smile and laugh were infectious, and he had yet to encounter a frown he couldn’t (eventually) turn upside down.

But with every ‘role’ came misconceptions. Scott was serious, therefore people were quick to automatically assume that he was a killjoy. Similarly, John’s intellect and preference for solitude often went hand in hand with him being branded antisocial, since there was apparently no possible way someone could enjoy their own company so much, yet still pursue and maintain meaningful relationships with actual people.

Gordon was no stranger to this treatment. He liked to laugh and be spontaneous, and consequently, was often regarded as the Tracy who didn’t take his work seriously, the Tracy who had the attention span of a gnat (albeit a very handsome one), and the Tracy who couldn’t be trusted with anything that required delicacy, be it physical or emotional. His affinity for making people laugh, though an exceptional quality, frequently acted as a double-edged sword. On the one hand, his relentless optimism made him the most effective of the bunch when it came to emergencies involving children and young adults. On the other hand, it sentenced him to a fate where the bad jokes he cracked would always be two steps ahead of the secret deep thinker that lay within.

“Let me see it again,” Gordon sighed, trying his best to be a supportive and understanding brother, since he did feel a little bad about the things he had just said. He hadn’t meant to say them, they had just come out. That was the trouble with being laid up from an injury, not only were you out of action but you were in pain, and pain made you grumpy and less likely to monitor the things that came out of your mouth the way you should.

He knew that John worked hard, hell he knew that what his brother had said was right, John was never truly off duty. They were all aware that he didn’t get enough sleep, enough down time, enough time to relax and just be. They knew that if John was on Five he would consider himself on duty, at work, and therefore he’d never allow himself to take time out. Things had changed since Selene had blundered her way into his life, now he spent a lot more time on the Island, which meant that he was finally taking some time out for himself. If one of the ways he chose to do that was by crafting ridiculously tiny things out of clay to stick in a hollowed out box that was his business. Gordon wasn’t there to judge, he was there to spend time with his brother.

John moved aside a little so Gordon could get a closer look, trying to resist the urge to smack his hand away every time Gordon reached for a tiny piece that had taken him hours to perfect.

“These are really small,” Gordon mused, poking at a window that John had just finished painting, leaving behind a smudged fingerprint. “Woops, sorry, Bro.”

“Maybe you should try making something of your own,“ John suggested, carefully removing the window from his brother's possession and picking up a brush in order to attempt a fix.

Gordon nodded and John passed him a ceramic tile and a miniature rolling pin.

“How about you try cutting me out a few shop sign bases?” John suggested.

“Do I get one of those scalpel things?” Gordon asked, a little too eagerly for John’s liking.

“Maybe we can work up to that,” John hedged, subtly moving the scalpel out of his brother’s reach and passing him a square cookie cutter. “Use this cutter for now.”

Gordon shrugged and spent a few minutes rolling and squishing the clay trying to get the thickness to the exact measurement that John insisted on. It wasn’t easy or fun.

“Nope!” Gordon announced, giving up and pushing the tile away. “It’s still boring. Pass.”

He swung his hoverchair around and headed in the direction of the door. “Later, Bro.”

“Oh...OK...later, I guess,” John stuttered, wondering just what he had done to deserve such a chaotic family as his.

“Oh, hey, boo, where are you go- WAHH!”

John’s head shot up as Selene’s yelp rang out from the hallway.

“Sorry!”

“So you should be, you little shit,” she grumbled to his retreating back as she thumped into the room.

“What happened, love?”

“Let’s just say that if his chair had wheels I’d have lost a few toes,” she said, wincing in imagined pain.

John scooted his desk chair back and patted his lap in offer, one that she happily accepted.

“So, why was Gordy doing his boy racer bit? What did you say to him?”

“Me? What makes you think I said anything to him?”

“Because I know you two?”

“Fair,” he sighed, sliding his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t know what to do to help him.”

Selene turned her head to look at him, not liking the helpless look on his face.

“Babe, you are helping him, you’re there to keep him company or talk to him if he needs it, that’s more important than anything. What happened to make you think that you weren’t helping?”

“He was asking me about these again,” John nodded towards his work area on the desktop. “But he didn’t seem to understand, that or he just didn’t want to.”

“He’s Gordon,” she sighed. “You know what he’s like, he’s full on, he’s in your face and he’s not at all subtle. Taking his time with things just doesn’t compute with him.”

“It would do him good though, if he doesn’t learn to embrace it he’ll be exactly the same as he was last time.”

“Was he really that bad?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

John nodded. “He doesn’t do inactivity well. When he had his hydrofoil accident his therapist talked him into signing up for a virtual college degree in Environmental Management of Rivers and Wetlands. It was supposed to take him at least a year as a part time course with ANU in Canberra, but he blew through it in the first semester and earned himself a distinction for his insights on the impact of Anthropogenic Noise on Wetland Habitats. His professor was so impressed he offered him a fully funded PhD, citing his time with WASP and the time he spent in the bathyscaphe as practical experience that would make up for his lack of degree. Obviously he turned it down, but he still likes to rub our faces in it now and then.”

“Wow,” Selene breathed. “Forget his professor being impressed, I’m impressed.”

“He has a phenomenal brain,” John said, a small but very proud smile on his face. “When he actually decides to use it to its full potential, that is. There is nothing he can't do when he chooses to focus on something, he’s all in. It really helped him to feel like he was gaining something and moving forward even though he was sitting still.”

Selene nodded, understanding completely. She knew that all of her boys were wicked smart, but Gordon always presented himself as the least academic. He was more of a doer, wanting to be out in the field, learning as he went, diving in head first to every situation.

But as Selene and John both knew, appearances could be deceiving.

“If that’s what helped him last time, then we need to find a way to convince him to try something new,” Selene insisted.

“I tried, he’s not interested.”

“That was with your things, babe. We need to find something that’s a little more him, and I think I know just the thing.”

-x-

“I have arrived!” Gordon yodelled, announcing his entrance in his own unique way. He slid his hover chair in through the open door like the boss that he was, bringing his shining presence in to brighten up his middle brother's obviously dull existence. “Didja miss me?”

“Like a hole in the head,” John grumbled, turning to look at the grinning face of his brother. His eyes immediately began to water as they were assaulted by the far too bright colours of the shirt Gordon was wearing, a tie dyed monstrosity that Selene had made for him for his birthday.

“A little more gratitude, if you please," Gordon huffed.

“Grandma finally released you?”

“Yep,” Gordon stretched out his injured leg and patted the air cast on his now slingless arm. “Got time off for good behaviour.”

“I find that hard to believe,” John teased, then nodded to Gordon’s arm. “How’s it feeling?”

“Not too bad, my grip still isn't great but Grandma promised me that once the bone has finished knitting I’ll just need to exercise it and build the muscle strength up, then it’ll be as good as new.”

“That’s great, it won't be long before you're able to go back out with Virgil and stop, how did Sel put it, 'haunting the house like the ghost of Christmas future'?"

"Can't come soon enough," Gordon sighed, butting his chair right up close to John's, knocking his arm in the process. "What you do- you're still doing that? Still? It's been a week!"

"It's not like I get a huge amount of down time," John pointed out. "I'm only here now because Sel said she'd dump me if I didn't make an effort to come down earlier in the evenings so I could actually eat a meal with you all."

"You actually believed that threat?" Gordon laughed.

"Of course not, she'd never dump me, but I thought I had better humour her and let her feel like she at least had a little sway," John shrugged, pushing aside the little piece of doorstep he had been painting. "Honestly, it's nice to come down for a meal and family time, I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it until it was happening again."

"I guess we all got a bit too caught up in International Rescue after we lost Dad," Gordon admitted.

"Like we had nothing else in our lives," John nodded, completely understanding.

"Yep."

Gordon fell silent and John let him, concentrating on mixing the perfect colour acrylic to add a few highlights to his stones.

"Can I have a go at making something? I bet I could do it quicker than you," Gordon asked, reaching towards what Selene called the sharps tub. John smacked the lid down on it just in time.

"Actually, we got you a present."

"You did?" Instantly distracted, Gordon sat up straighter, excited by the prospect of a gift. "What did you get me?"

This," John answered, opening his desk drawer and extracting an interestingly shaped bottle, upright with a thicker, rounded bottom and a thinner neck, ending a cork stopper.

"Wow, is that an original?" Gordon asked, taking the bottle carefully and turning it to study it from all angles. He knew exactly what this shaped bottle was, there had been a collection of them in Commander Shore’s office that he would stare at every time he got called in for some reprimand or another.

"19th century," John nodded. "Sel found it in a little shop in Mayfair. They assured her it was a genuine, used on a ship, captain's decanter from around the time of the civil war. They hadn’t fully traced it when Sel bought it but they think it came from one of the ships that fought in one of the smaller skirmishes around 1861.”

“This is really cool, thanks,” Gordon smiled, still turning the bottle over and over.

“It’s to hold this,” John continued, drawing Gordon’s attention back to him.

Grinning, John delved back into his desk drawer and pulled out a rather faded and quite dusty box. He brushed the dirt off the top and slid it over to Gordon.

"A ship?" Gordon frowned.

"Yep, Selene and I thought that you needed a little project of your own, so she had the idea to get you a ship in a bottle. You don’t see them a lot these days, but apparently her Grandfather had a couple and they always fascinated her.”

“So you put the ship in the bottle?”

“Yep, instructions are inside, go nuts.”

“Pfft, instructions,” Gordon snorted. “No one needs instructions, they’re a waste of time.”

-x-

“Ouch,” John hissed, hopping in place on one foot as he bent down to pick up what looked to be a tiny piece of mast that had attacked the sole of his foot. “Gordon, why are there bits of ship all over my floor?”

“Because I dropped them,” Gordon replied, his voice muffled due to the tongue of concentration that was peeking out from between his teeth.

Huffing, John gathered all the pieces off the floor, both pieces of ship and bits that they had been cut out of, and deposited them on the desk next to Gordon.

“How’s it coming along?” John asked, settling in his own chair. He’d only been gone a day but Gordon had managed to take over the entire bedroom, spreading his belongings, bottles, snack wrappers, his phone and a discarded hoodie, all over the place, as well as half the contents of the vintage ship box.

“It’s ridiculous. I think it’s missing pieces or something, it’s broken.”

“Well it was an old kit, but we were assured that it was complete,” John frowned, sliding the tray over that Gordon was supposed to be storing all the pieces in. “Have you checked the contents list and matched each piece to make sure they’re all there?”

Gordon looked at him blankly, like he was talking a foreign language.

“Did you check that everything was there before you started?" John elaborated.

“Of course I did,” Gordon promised, crossing his fingers and hoping his brother didn’t see.

“Against the list?” John clarified.

“I eyeballed it, OK?”

“Not good enough,” John insisted. “That’s not how you go about doing things like this, you can’t just slap them together and hope for the best.”

“Why not?” Gordon whined. It worked for him in almost everything else he did in life.

“Because this happens," John gestured to the mess surrounding them.

“Fine, I’ll read the damn instructions.”

Leaving Gordon to it John slid his almost completed book nook over and picked up his paintbrush to start adding some finishing touches before he started on the wiring for the lights. He’d barely done more than five minutes when Gordon started huffing.

John waited a little longer, trying his hardest to ignore the ever increasing sounds of frustration and impatience from his brother. In the end he couldn't stand it a moment longer, he had to ask the most loaded question ever.

“What’s the problem?” John asked, pushing his own work aside.

“These instructions don’t make sense,” Gordon bitched, flapping the paper in John’s face. “Look at the little picture here, you have to stick this little pole into that hole in the deck but the deck doesn’t want to stay together and that piece there keeps sliding and the pictures make no sense.”

“That’s because you missed around eight steps in between,” John told him, praying for patience.

“No I didn't, I followed the pictures exactly,” Gordon insisted.

“The steps aren’t in the pictures,” John explained. “See right there?” he pointed to the words above the pictures. “The pictures are a diagram of each finished stage, not how to get there. They are for reference only, not instructions.”

“Urghhh, this is going to take forever,” Gordon pouted, crossing his arms. “What’s the point?”

“The point is that by the end of it you’ll have something unique that no one else does, something you can be proud of and know that you built with your own two hands.”

“I’m not sure it’s worth the effort,” Gordon muttered.

“It is,” John promised. “I’ll help. How about I read out the instructions and you follow along? We’ll get through it quicker that way.”

Gordon wasn’t convinced, but John looked so hopeful that he didn’t have the heart to refuse him, especially since he and Selene had gone to so much trouble to get the things for him in the first place. He might be a miserable little sod, but he wasn’t that ungrateful. He knew that they had gone out of their way to get something they thought he’d like, the least he could do was make the thing, even if he knew he wouldn’t enjoy it. Maybe John was right, working together they could get through it quicker, and that could only be a good thing.

“Alright,” Gordon agreed, “let’s give it a go.”

Slowly, methodically, John read out each piece that was needed and Gordon located them, storing them neatly in a wooden box that Selene provided when she popped in to bring them drinks an hour or so later. She stayed just long enough to steal a kiss from John and drop one on the top of Gordon’s head before she beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to get roped into helping. She wasn’t the best at following instructions and didn’t want to get grumped at.

By the time they had all the pieces checked and catalogued they had discovered there were indeed two pieces missing, but thankfully they were easy fixes, just a small , round piece of wood to represent a porthole, which they could easily make a replacement for and a piece of mast. One snipped toothpick later and that was sorted too.

John started with the first set of instructions, reading them out patiently as Gordon found and fitted them together.

“So, how’s work been?” Gordon asked, like a chatty hairstylist, as he carefully dipped the end of a thin dowel into a small pot of wood glue.

“Same as ever,” John deadpanned, “a bunch of idiots that got themselves into trouble and needed help, and only half of them related to us.”

Gordon sniggered, glancing at John, seeing the sly smile on his brother’s face. He’d forgotten just how amusing John could be when he delivered something sarcastically witty with such a serious tone. Gordon hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it, wondering just what his more serious brother would come out with next. John was always like that, he seemed so quiet and reserved but, when he was relaxed and in company he was comfortable with he’d take you by surprise by letting loose a zinger that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Let’s not talk about work,” Gordon suggested, “we haven’t hung out properly in ages, you’re either up in Five or there are other people around.”

“Is that your way of saying you’ve missed me?” John teased.

“Maybe,” Gordon allowed, “but if you ever tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it and tell Grandma you want her to make your birthday cake this year.”

John held his hands up in surrender, although he couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up as he reached for the instructions again.

“OK, let’s get this done before we stop enjoying each other’s company.”

They worked slowly but steadily over the next few hours, putting together the structure for the first mast. Once it was done they called it quits and abandoned it for another day, the smell of something tasty coming from the kitchen proving to be too much to ignore.

-x-

“Gordon, that’s my finger.”

“Oh, sorry, can you just like… I don’t know, yank it off?”

“If I wish to leave half my identifying fingerprints behind, yes.”

“Do you really need them?”

John didn’t dignify that with an answer, the look he threw at his brother communicated his thoughts perfectly.

“OK, OK, I’ll get some dissolver from Virgil’s studio, wait right there,” Gordon instructed him, grabbing his crutches and hobbling his way out of the room.

John sighed, keeping his hand perfectly still, the hull of the boat dangling from his fingertip. He was still there five minutes later when Gordon clumped his way back in, Selene hot on his heels. She had the glue dissolver under one arm, a large bag of chips under the other and a plate of sandwiches in each hand.

She dumped the plates on the desk, then the chips, before turning to see the state her fiancé was in.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” Gordon winced, dropping down into his abandoned desk chair and reaching for a plate.

“Can you at least help me before you start stuffing your face?” John asked, waggling his hand, which made the boat sway violently from side to side.

“Can’t, eating,” Gordon mumbled around the massive mouthful he had just taken.

“What did I say?” she demanded to know. “No hurting the hands, you know how I feel about that.”

John wiggled his fingers again, drawing her attention to his plight. He looked so pathetic with the half built little ship swinging from his hand that Selene took pity on him, intervening when he looked like he was about to grab the thing and yank it off himself, fingerprints be damned.

“Oh for the love of the Gods, let me do it!” Taking his hand she used a paintbrush to smear glue dissolver around the area of skin it was stuck to. She took her time, rewetting and using the brush bristles to push the dissolver under the boat, trying to ease it free from his skin with minimal pulling.

“Thank you,” he sighed, sitting patiently while she worked. Thankfully it didn’t take her too long, although it took a lot of cursing under her breath and the odd ouch from him to get there.

“One boat,” she announced, placing it triumphantly on the desk.

“Fanks,” Gordon said, spraying chip crumbs as he did so.

“Welcome,” she said, brushing at her leg which had unfortunately been in splatter range. Still holding John’s hand she bestowed a kiss to each of his abused digits before releasing him.

“Right, I’m out of here. Play nicely, you two, I don’t want to have to send Grandma in to babysit you both.”

“It won’t come to that,” John assured her, reaching for his own sandwich. “We’ve not got much left to do now. We just have to attach the rigging to the masts, check that they fold properly then insert th-”

“I’m out, I don’t need to hear anything about insertion, not after you just glued a boat to your hand,” Selene declared, her exit swift and to the point, the door shutting firmly behind her.

“She has a point,” Gordon admitted, swallowing his last bite. He pushed the chip bag in John’s direction, although there was barely more than a handful and a few crumbs left in it.

“But we’ll never admit it to her face,” John insisted, steadily munching through the large sub she had brought for him.

“Never,” Gordon agreed.

-x-

Gordon sighed dramatically as he crutched his way down the hall from his bedroom. John’s bedroom door was open but his brother wasn’t inside. The ship, now fully rigged, sat beside the bottle on the desk, just waiting to be placed inside once some sand had been poured in as a base. Gordon had chosen all different shades of blue to represent the sea and had even watched a few videos on how to do sand pouring art, something he’d never expected to find even remotely interesting, yet he couldn’t bring himself to go in and make a start on it.

John had barely been home the past week and when he had it had only been for food and enforced sleep. Even then he had been known to sneak out of bed the second Selene was asleep, being discovered on numerous occasions sitting at their father’s desk until the small hours working on this, that or the other.

Emergencies, and therefore the need for their services, had seemed to increase three fold, something Selene was blaming on the moon phase and mercury going retrograde and, for want of a better explanation, they were all inclined to agree. There was no rhyme or reason for the surge in idiots that were calling in at all hours of the day and night with trucks caught under a too low bridge causing a pile up, hands stuck down toilets, drunks climbing to the top of electricity pylons and repair men getting trapped inside ATM machines they had been fixing.

His brothers had been on the go near constantly, whether it was from rescue call outs or working on their plan to find their father, but none more so than John. While Selene had always been good at what she liked to call Tracy Wrangling, none more so that when she was dealing with a stressed out Scott, even she had admitted defeat and left them to their own devices. Self preservation was key after all.

John had been dealing with not only rescue calls and Chaos Crew sightings, but signal tracking, GDF liaising and general hoop jumping, all of which had kept him far too busy.

It had been over a week since they had done anything to their project and Gordon was feeling the loss. Not so much of the project, although that really had helped with his frustrations at his lack of physical ability, not that he would ever admit that to John, but in spending time with his brother.

Much to his surprise he’d found that he was reluctant to work on it alone, it had become their thing to do together. It was a time where they would hang out, shoot the shit, reminisce about childhood memories, times that they had spent together talking about their hope for the future where they would find their father alive and bring him home.

Both of them knew that it wouldn’t be easy, that if they did manage to find him there would be no telling what physical or mental state he would be in. Gordon knew from experience just how tough physical injury, limitations, and recovery could be on the mind and the body, especially in someone who had been as active and viril as Jeff Tracy.

They all knew, although no one seemed to want to talk about it, that as hard as it was going to be to actually locate him and hopefully bring him home, that would only be the beginning of what could potentially be an incredibly long and difficult journey of rehabilitation and reintegration into the family and the world as a whole.

John had been right, taking some time to be quiet, to slow down and think while keeping your mind and hands busy really was a productive way to spend your rest hours and, stupid as it sounded, Gordon didn’t really want that to end.

He was only a week or two away from potential cast removal and a return to physical activities like his beloved swimming and strength training in their home gym and, while he couldn’t wait to get back to it, he knew he’d feel the loss of his enforced quiet time.

He glanced again at the abandoned ship on the desk and turned away, clumping down the hall towards the stairs. So it would take them a little longer to get it finished, Gordon was fine with that because for once he wasn’t feeling the need to rush.

-x-

“Remember to pour it slowly,” Gordon instructed as he held the funnel in place, its long pipe reaching right down into the bottom of the jar. “Start with the darkest one, that’s going to be our base colour.”

“I’ve got it,” John assured him, selecting the tub of midnight blue sand and scooping some out into a smaller pot to make things easier. At Gordon’s nod he began to slowly and steadily pour the sand into the open neck of the funnel. As he watched Gordon expertly directed the tube, allowing the sand to pour out to pool in the bottom of the bottle.

At Gordon’s signal John stopped pouring and waited while Gordon carefully removed the tube and used a long metal skewer to poke and prod the sand into something that looked vaguely like waves.

“The next colour up,” Gordon requested and John did as he was asked. They repeated the process four more times with different shades of blue, John pouring in a little at a time, Gordon directing the tube to deposit more in one place than others, mimicking the movement of sea waves as best they could. In between each layer Gordon used the skewer to poke and mix the colours here and there, blending the layers into a smoother transition.

“That’ll do,” Gordon said confidently, twisting the bottle so John could see the full effect.

John had to admit that he had been pleasantly surprised when Gordon had announced that he had ordered some coloured sand and looked up how to do sand art on the internet. He hadn’t really known what to expect, although he would admit, if only to himself, that he had thought that Gordon would be a little heavy handed and impatient, but once again he had proved him wrong. He really had done his research and the result was a beautiful mix of colours that really did give a perfect impression of a gently moving sea.

“That’s looking great.”

“I know,” Gordon grinned, modest as always. “Where’s that resin gone?”

“Here,” John answered, pushing it across the desk towards his brother. “Make sure you read the instructions and measure the amounts accurately or it won’t set and you’ll ruin the sand and the bottle.”

“Yeah, yeah I got this,” Gordon assured him as he did indeed read the instructions through properly. Once he had familiarised himself with the ratio of resin to hardener, he measured carefully and poured them into a mixing jug. Once it was fully mixed he slowly, gently, poured the mixture a little at a time into the bottle on top of the sand. With each little pour he waited for the resin to trickle down between the grains, slowly adding to it until all the sand was covered.

“And now we wait,” John said, carefully placing the bottle in the patch of bright sunlight coming in through the window.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Gordon offered casually, not really expecting his brother to agree. John hardly ever watched anything with just him, they had vastly different tastes in movies and John usually made some polite excuse to escape.

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Really?” Gordon goggled, his eyes almost falling out of his head. “You don’t have anything more important to do?”

“More important than watching a movie with my little brother? I don’t think so,” John grinned, retrieving Gordon’s crutches from where they were leaning against his bookshelf and tossing them to him one by one. “Come on, last one to the lounge picks the movie.”

“Hey, no fair!” Gordon yelled, scrambling to his feet as he fumbled with his crutches. “You’ve got legs like a giraffe and neither of them are broken!”

“Sucks to be you,” John tossed over his shoulder as he took off down the hall to victory.

-x-

“Careful,” John warned.

“I am being careful,” Gordon snapped. “I got this.”

“Your hand’s shaking.”

“Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.” He steadied his, only slightly shaky, hand by propping his elbow on the desk for stability. “OK, let’s do this.”

They both held their breath as Gordon maneuvered the body of the boat through the opening in the bottle, making sure each sail stayed carefully folded down and the strings remained untangled before he fed it down the neck and into the bottle.

“Phase one, complete,” John intoned in such a serious voice that Gordon couldn’t help the laugh that he snorted out.

“Pass me those long nosed tweezers?” Gordon asked, holding out a hand.

John slapped the requested instrument into his brother's hand like a nurse in an operating theater, provoking another burst of laughter.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

Making sure the strings of the sails were still dangling outside of the bottle, Gordon carefully moved the body of the boat further down into the bottle with the metal skewer until the stern touched the top of the resin and sand layer.

“Now the sails,” Gordon whispered, hardly daring to breathe as John moved in to help, taking over the holding of the strings while Gordon reached in with the tweezers.

Gently, working together, they started the delicate process of tugging gently on each string, unfolding the paper sails and locking them in place.

“String one.”

“Got it. Watch number four sail.”

“Yep, thanks...OK… can you just give string five a little pull? Perfect.”

“Sail three is flopping!”

“Gah, hang on, just got to tighten that...yep that’s got it.”

“Maybe if I gather…”

“Yep, that’s good, do that again.”

“This next bit is going to require a delicate touch, maybe I should-”

“Hey! I can be delicate!”

“It’s not coming up...back sail two is stuck, release it...careful!”

“There, saved it.”

John gently pulled the strings a little more and there it was, their ship, sails proudly upright and everything. He kept hold of the strings, while Gordon held on to the boat with the tweezers as they carefully lifted the bottle from its side to its proper upright position.

Using the skewer John maneuvered around Gordon’s hand and nudged the boat into a better position before he carefully released the strings. They both held their breath, hoping and praying that the sails wouldn't collapse the second the strings fell.

The boat, with its sails, stayed strong.

“Yes!” Gordon cheered, holding up his free hand for a high five, grinning when his brother’s palm smacked against his own.

“Scalpel,” Gordon joked as John handed it to him so they could lop off a little of the trailing strings. Then, using the skewer, they arranged the strings around the edges of the boat.

With the boat finally upright and in place, they added another layer of light blue coloured sand with a sprinkling of white to mimic the tips of the waves. They finished it off by pouring in a little more resin, both to set the sand and hold the boat in place, using the tweezers to make sure it was correctly positioned.

“Phew,” Gordon breathed, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his cast covered leg. “We did it. Go team.”

“We did,” John smiled. “And it looks damn good.”

“It really does,” Gordon agreed, shifting his head to look at the bottle from all angles.

“Nothing left to do but let it dry and put the stopper in,” John said. “How do you feel now it’s done? Was it worth the time?”

“I still think we could have done it a lot faster if you’d just let me skip a few steps in the instructions and do it my way, but it wasn’t that bad,” Gordon admitted. “I’m oddly proud of it.”

“You should be, you did good,” John leant back in his chair, crossing his arms as he relaxed. “Are you going to stop teasing me about my book nooks now?”

“Pssh, no,” Gordon snorted. “Ships are cool, yours will always be boring.”

He didn’t see the bottle of water coming until it was too late.

-x-

Gordon walked straight to John’s room from the infirmary, feeling oddly free without his crutches and casts. Six weeks was a long time, after all.

The bottle with its little ship sat exactly where they had left it in the center of John’s desk next to the abandoned book nook that was still not finished. It took him very little time to insert the cork stopper and pour a little of Selene’s spell bottle sealing wax around the top, a bright, cheery yellow wax that matched his beloved Thunderbird Four.

He smiled as he thought of his little craft, waiting down in her dock for him, ready to be taken out when the next call came in. It had been a long and frustrating time but finally, blessedly, that time was over.

He poked an experimental finger into the wax seal, checking that it had set properly. It had, and he couldn’t help feeling a little sad about it. It had been a project that at first he’d had very little interest in, but slowly it had turned into so much more. Not just something to wile away a few hours but a chance for him to reconnect with the brother he spent the least amount of time with.

Years ago, back when he had been small, John had been his everything. When Alan had been too tiny to be of any use and Scott and Virgil had been too old to be bothered with him hanging around, it had been John that had been there for him. It was John that had patiently listened as he read aloud from his sealife books, who had watched movies with him, played with him, and spent the most amount of time with him. Back then, their three year age difference had seemed like so little but so much at the same time, an older brother that made him feel wanted and included when the other two saw him as an annoyance.

Gordon couldn’t quite put his finger on when things had changed, when they had slowly drifted apart. John had seemed to grow up so much faster than he had, Alan had welded himself to his side, looking up to Gordon as he had to John and things had never been the same again.

It had been too long since they had been able to just hang out, to laugh, to tease each other without things going too far and one of them getting annoyed. It had been nice and Gordon had realised that he didn’t want to go back to nothing but hollocalls to Five when an emergency came in or the odd family dinner and movie night where he had to share with the rest of the family. John was the only brother that Gordon didn’t spend one on one time with as standard and he realised that, no matter how much he might blame it on John being so far away, in reality it was as much his fault as John’s.

Gordon picked up the bottle, leaving a box in its place. The model kit of the Mercury Project space capsule and its launch pad had been hard to find even with his junker contacts. In fact, he had almost given up and admitted defeat before he'd thought to look at the label on his ship box and sent the shop owner an email.

Smiling to himself, knowing that there was no way John would be able to resist that challenge, he took the finished bottle, with its little ship, to his room where it would take pride of place on his bookshelf, a constant reminder that even in the worst of times, positivity could still be found.

“Thanks, Bro.”

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