#tiny!john

[lunmiar]

Remember that time I started drawing John stupidly tiny then stopped the next day

yeah, me neither

anyways, John is really smol and in peril

Also canon era because why n o t

[lunmiar]

More tinyjohn please!!!!💝💝💝💝💝🌈🌈🌈🌈🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹👀👀👀👀

ask and you shall receive

Lee: GET BACK HERE WITH MY D O G 

[lunmiar]

ok so this is stupid but i thought it was funny

[starman-john-tracy]

hey tiny john, have you tried to hula hoop with a bagel yet?

[starman-john-tracy]

*picks up John by the scruff and tosses him through an open window*

He’d been left by Scott and Virgil for less than a minute when there are suddenly giant fingers pinching at the back of John’s spacesuit and swinging the tiny man up, off his feet and into the air.

There’s a little, startled shout of “Hey!! Let me go!!” but then there’s a flick of a wrist and the person does let him go. Only not in any way he’d have hoped. G-force takes over quickly, momentum vs air resistance and John realizes abruptly that he’s falling and it’s a long way down because he’s just gone sailing out the window.

It’d be a long drop had he been normal sized, but a fall like this when John is miniaturized is terrifying; like someone has cut the cable for his space elevator and dropped him out of orbit. The ground, a blur of greens and greys, is rushing up to meet him, and John flails, tiny arms struggling for purchase on something anything as he plummets. There’s a branch, a tree, and he thwacks hard into it with a sharp cry and a crunch that might have been his tiny, fragile ribs.

He’s sliding, slipping, and the bark is rough enough to shred skin as he tries to find a crack to get his fingers into as he holds on. John’s breathing is short and shaky and there’s a pained groan and the dizzying drop below swirls as a gust of wind shakes his branch. Pulling himself up, the tiny spaceman does his best to shimmy along, pale with terror, trying to reach the sturdier intersection where the branch meets the trunk of the tree.

It’s still a long way down and John has to close his eyes against the vertigo. Ok. Ok. Come on John. Think. There must be people on the Island who can help him, who aren’t tiny. Kayo, Scott, and Virgil were miniaturized. He’s not seen Gordon all day, and Alan’s too short to climb up here to start with. He remembers @nibenhu-cas is about though, as the GDF had sent her over to help with their intruder problem, so John’s hands are shaky as they lift his wrist comm towards his mouth, and he patches the call through.

“Nibs?” Comes a tiny, squeaky voice from her wrist comm, and John’s little hologram pops up, all rumpled hair and fear, “I think… I may have a situation.”

[starman-john-tracy]

She nods, following his instructions. It felt good to allow him to rest, while she acted as his arms. Perhaps his brain was still going one hundred miles an hour, but that was probably never going to change.

John gently tugs out a strand of Bee’s hair, soft and ticklish and forms a little loop with it to securely rest his feet in as he points and scans the globe.

“I think we’re good for now.” He says after a few minutes of babble and waving. His little posture slumps down; one hand coming out to steady himself against the edge of Bee’s jawline. “Thankyou for your help, Beatrix.”

[starman-john-tracy]

"John? I asked Scott if he wanted me to help while he and you are so... small." She bites her lip. "He's given me the all clear to go up and run Five to help take the load off your brothers shoulders. Are you okay with that?" John... John was the more difficult of the two to convince. It was his 'bird, after all.

“Definitely not.” John says, flat out. “And it’s not Scott’s call.” His shoulders tense, small and rolling. “I can run comms from Dad’s desk if I have to, or Eos is fully capable of double-teaming, hell, Grandma can run comms if she has to. There is no way I am allowing an untrained civilian who knows very little about either astro physics or lazar communications up to my station alone. I have two degrees Bee, and years of astro training. You can’t just go to space.” He frowns, sharp and small. If he wasn’t drowning in his own inadequacy, he surely is now. “It doesn’t work like that.”

[starman-john-tracy]

"Because funnily enough, I thought you would have actually held onto my neck or my shirt or something, John." She doesn't look down at him, instead looking ahead of her as she walks. She's not sure what else she can do to make him feel comfortable.

“Sorry.” He all but whispers, feeling ridiculous. Ridiculous and tiny and John buries his face in his knees and just focuses on letting his little lungs do the inhale and exhale thing they’re supposed to. He wants his glasses, and his books and some quiet and Thunderbird Five only he’s six inches tall and being carried and John cant even remember the last time he cried but he’s seriously considering it. He is not having fun.