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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 4 years

Note

The gang on their wedding days

[Been meaning to post this one for a while — since I’m applying to get married today, now seems like the time.]

Jake steps into the room like a child wandering into his parents’ dinner party. His bow tie is askew, seams of his jacket misaligned for all that it’s a custom-tailored tuxedo. If the buttons of his shirt aren’t one hole off from their intended placement, they still manage to convey that impression from across the room.

Rachel feels a rush of affection for him, her first best friend. The boy who’d run and fought and splashed through mud with her, back before adults started telling her to be careful of her dress and him to be careful of her. Only he could show up to his own wedding looking like he’s ready to be expelled at any moment. Only Jake.

And yes, she gets mushy at weddings. Sue her.

Tom steps up next to Jake, far more elegant in an off-the-rack suit. Some people actually got the fashionable genes in this family.

Rachel surges across the room. Tom gets a quick hug, and then she turns all her attention on Jake.

“You only have to look nice for the next three hours,” she tells him briskly.

“Three. Hours,” Jake repeats.

With expert motions she realigns his… everything, until at the very least the clothes are sitting the way the tailor intended. She tries to finger-comb his hair, thankful for the heels that put her at an inch above his height, but it’s obvious that he has also been running his hands through it and the style is hopelessly deformed.

“You can survive anything for three hours,” Rachel says as she does all this. “I’ve seen you do it.”

“But if I mess it up—”

“Then stop, go back, and do whatever it is over. We’re not exactly on a time pressure, here. Nobody’s gonna die if you trip at the altar or forget your lines.”

“Okay.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, deforming his jacket again. “Okay.”

She can see him starting to relax as he glances around, shoulders coming down. Cassie’s place isn’t quite like they remember — it’s been repaired since the war, the Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic expanded to nearly five times its original size — but it still feels as close to home as any place does.

“Have a glass of water,” Rachel says.

“But what if I have to pee during the ceremony?”

She rolls her eyes. “Babysit him,” she mouths at Tom.

Tom gives her a gesture in response that approximates What do you think I’ve BEEN doing? Whether he means the last four hours or the last twenty-six years is, really, a moot point.

Rachel leaves him to it, and charges off to go check on the others.

************

Marco leans against a tent pole, trying to roll one of the rings across his fingers the way Vegas poker players do with chips. So far it’s not going well.

“Canapé,” Ax is saying carefully. He attempts to lean next to Marco, nearly going all the way over. “Can-nap-peee?”

“Uh, no.” Marco catches the ring as it makes its third or fourth bid for freedom, stuffing it back into his pocket. “That…” He tilts his champagne flute to point. “…is a canopy. Or a chuppah, I guess. Canopee. Canapay is the little pastry thing you’ve already filched in bulk, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Ah,” Ax says. And then, “This temperature and rate of precipitation is within optimal survival parameters for humans, is it not?”

“Nuh-uh, Ax-Man, I will not be pulled in by your smooth small-talk skills.”

“Did you not wish to make conversation?” Ax frowns. And then he stuffs another canapé in his mouth. “This is making conversation,” he adds through the mouthful.

Marco squints. “Is it, though?”

“It is indeed. Did you know that the rotating-wheel can opener was patented in 1870?”

Marco’s response to that one gets cut off when Rachel comes charging across the open tent space like a small freight train. Tobias is balanced on her shoulder, flaring slightly as she runs. She yanks the champagne flute out of his hand. Marco makes a squeak of protest, but Rachel just sets it firmly on a bussing tray and turns back to glare at him.

“What did we agree?” she asks sternly.

Marco rolls his eyes. “That I’d stay sober-ish for the toast, and not do anything too embarrassing.”

“You’re the best man. You have one job, Marco.”

“Excuse you, the best man’s one job was that banger of a bachelor-slash-ette party we did Wednesday night. Did you like the part where we all dived out of a helicopter and flew clear through the lower atmosphere to that rooftop bar? Because—”

“So you got the drinking out of your system. You promised.”

“Sober-ish, come on, it’s just one wine-spritzer-thing!”

Rachel turns away from him, looking Ax over. “You realize you’re going to have to demorph and remorph at some point before the ceremony, right?” she asks. “And that when you do, someone’s going to have to go through the whole kit and caboodle of getting you into that tux all over again?”

“Yes,” Ax says. “Yes, I do.”

She stares at him. He stares back, looking as innocent as it is possible to look while also chewing three jalapeño pastries at the same time.

«You should probably just listen to her,» Tobias suggests. «By the way, where’s your date? Not that I quake in fear for the wedding cake or anything, but, uh…»

“Menderash has been instructed not to eat anything on a human plate without seeking my opinion first,” Ax says, somewhat stiffly.

“Yeah,” Marco says. “So far he’s only eaten two earthworms, a candle, some decorative sand, and part of Collette’s bouquet. You two have nothing to worry about.”

“Part of Collette’s bouquet?” Rachel demands. “We can’t send a bridesmaid up the aisle without—”

“Already replaced it, I am on top of this.” Marco flips his hair back from his face. “I am a flower master.”

«So where is Menderash now?» Tobias asks.

“Helping Cassie’s mom,” Marco explains.

«And Cassie’s mom is…?»

“Delivering a baby cow.”

Rachel makes a noise like she’s choking on air. “Doesn’t Michelle have vet techs for that kind of thing? She’s supposed to be getting ready, not, not…”

“It’s cool,” Marco says. “She’s got her makeup on, her hair is done perfectly, she’s got an apron-thing to keep her dress nice and gloves over her nails, it was a breech birth so they needed a real doctor and Walter was busy supervising the caterers, she’s got Menderash and Steve helping her out—”

“She kidnapped Jake’s dad?” Rachel demands overtop the continuing babble.

“He said he had never delivered an offspring outside of his own species before, and expressed deep curiosity on the subject,” Ax offers. “Menderash is a certified medic with andalite training, so they should be well-equipped to assist.”

Marco makes jazz hands in the air. “It’s a free pre-dinner show! Cow birth. Better than icebreakers.”

There’s a very long pause. Rather than dignify that with a response, Rachel turns and stalks away.

Marco watches her go, halfway awed at her ability to navigate an open yard so well while not only wearing six-inch heels and a multi-layer floor-length dress, but also balancing an enormous updo on top of her head and a red-tailed hawk on her left shoulder.

“Is it just me, or did Jake and Cassie make a monster when they asked her to be maid of honor?” Marco says.

«You wanna take over her responsibilities, then?»

Of course Tobias heard that. Stupid hawk hearing.

“No thank you!” Marco yells after them.

Cassie, meanwhile, is currently picking her way across the open space under the tent, bunches of dress hiked up to above her knees. This last is, of course, the source of Rachel’s consternation.

“Here.” Rachel attempts to pull the wads of skirt out of Cassie’s hands and drop them back to the ground. “You’re going to wrinkle it.”

Cassie stubbornly refuses to let go. “You told me not to let it drag on the ground. If I let it down, it’ll drag.”

“Cassie, Cassie. That is a hand-tailored Christian Dior gown that I commissioned to be custom-fitted to your measurements. There is no way that it is too long if you let it…”

Cassie drops the bunches of tulle. The end of the skirt falls all the way down, where the bottom two inches rest, unmistakably, on the muddy ground.

Rachel somehow manages to wince with her entire body while also not moving at all.

«It’s a look,» Tobias suggests, by way of consolation. «Kind of.»

“How…?” Rachel peers closer at Cassie. “Wait, where are your shoes?”

Cassie shrugs, embarrassed. “Uh, inside somewhere. I was having trouble balancing in them.”

“Well that’s why!” Rachel’s emphatic gesture almost dislodges Tobias. With years’ experience, he dodges her waving arm and retains his perch. “The dress was tailored to fit you with shoes on.”

“They were getting stuck in the grass—”

“They’re kitten heels!”

“Yeah, and they’re still heels.” Cassie looks stuck somewhere between amusement and embarrassment. “I don’t really do heels. Sorry.”

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says, as if to thin air.

«Nuh-uh, leave me out, I want no part in—»

“Remember me telling Cassie that we should really try the whole outfit on before the wedding?”

«Uh. Yes?»

“Do you also remember Cassie agreeing to it, and then the day of, haring off to go try and save a bunch of vultures instead? Remember how we tried to reschedule, and there was that ALF mission on the same day so she never showed? Remember that?”

Cassie clears her throat loudly. “I think it’s a very nice dress. It’s fluffy and also comfortable, and look!” She tucks her hands away. “It has pockets.”

«Vultures are actually fundamental for waste disposal in ecosystems all over the world, and the poisons used on livestock—»

“Do you think you could at least wear the shoes long enough to go up the aisle?” Rachel asks. “And maybe even for a few photos as well?”

“Uh. I’ll try.” Cassie hikes her skirt back up (Rachel full-body winces again) and starts picking her way across the lawn back toward the house.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to un-wrinkle it in time,” Rachel mutters.

«Yep. So you’re just going to have to live with it.»

“I hate living with it.”

«Wanna go check on whatever monstrosity of a replacement bouquet Marco probably inflicted on Collette?»

“Fine, fine.”

**************

Cassie walks up the aisle in a custom-tailored gown, an edelweiss and valerian flower crown, and slightly muddy Timberland work boots. The sole on the boots is apparently tall enough that the skirt does, not, in fact, drag on the ground or get tangled in her feet.

«Somewhere out there,» Tobias comments, «Christian Dior is crying into an overpriced silk handkerchief and doesn’t even know why.»

Marco has never more deeply felt the utter unfairness of Tobias being able to use thought-speak while human, because they’re currently standing at the front of the aisle and he can’t even respond.

But Rachel should still count this one as a win. The gown looks stunning on Cassie, lacy and princess-ruffled while also having the kind of practical cut that allows her freedom of movement. And, Marco notes with a smirk, freedom to wear her morphing leotard underneath; the purple spandex is just visible peeking out from underneath the white silk neckline. He’s got morphing clothes under his own tux — never leaves home without ‘em — so really, he can’t judge.

Plus, Michelle’s got her dress and just her dress on by now, and her locs are still tucked into their silver-beaded updo. Really, the cow birth was just a momentary inconvenience.

“Hi,” Jake whispers, when Cassie reaches him.

She grabs his hand. Then she stuffs her bouquet into one of his jacket pockets, and grabs his other hand. “Hi,” she whispers back.

“This is pretty exciting, huh?”

“Yep.”

Ax clears his throat delicately, and they stop talking.

“There is an Earth tradition,” Ax says to the entire assembly, “that the captain of any ship may perform a wedding ceremony at will.”

In the front row of seats, Michelle laces her fingers through Walter’s.

“Although there is no legal precedent for this custom,” Ax continues, “it is nevertheless possible to become ordained as a wedding officiant if one just completes the proper applications.”

One of Jake’s great-aunts mutters something loudly about the lack of rabbi. Sarah leans over and kicks her in the ankle. Rachel beams her approval.

“Therefore, I am here to make official through human custom that which has already been forged through affection and respect.” Ax looks from Jake to Cassie and back. “The bond between warriors who have fought and faced death together can be neither lessened nor improved upon by mere ceremony. The honor shared between two such beings who have chosen to risk loving each other in spite of knowing the reality of loss is one that we recognize today. We can recognize it, but not sanctify it beyond the sanctity of what these two humans have already shared.”

Rachel lets out an audible sniffle. Marco does his best not to smirk at her. It’s not that sappy a speech.

“I have been assured that the bond between two humans who like each other far exceeds the bond between those who merely enjoy each other’s company,” Ax says.

And now Marco has to fight the urge to bang his head against the nearest support pole.

“I have witnessed this myself.” Ax stares around the room. “I have witnessed compromise and forgiveness, compassion and challenge between these two. I therefore believe it is correct and proper that this bond be formally recognized by the State of California. Is there anything you would wish to add?” he says to Jake and Cassie.

Cassie leans up on tip-toe. Jake bends to meet her.

She whispers her vows into his ear, not bothering to share with the rest of the gathering. After a moment, tears on his face, he leans in and whispers back.

Recognizing his cue, Marco grabs the rings and passes them over. They’re boring-looking, in his opinion, plain silicon bands without anything shiny. But they’re also easy to morph, easy to shovel manure while wearing, easy to wear without catching on anything. Very Cassie. Very Jake.

Speaking of which, the Timberlands prove to be a good call. When the time comes, Cassie stomps the shit out of that ceremonial glass.

**********

In a slight break with tradition, Rachel and Tobias are actually the first ones to go back down the aisle. Then Marco wheels Collette out, followed by Tom and Melissa, then Jake and Cassie go. That way, Rachel’s got time to sprint back over to the main tent and check on the banquet.

Most of the tables are arranged correctly, the centerpieces in place and the cards arrayed. Rachel does a mad sprint of the room, straightening decorations and confirming with the caterers that they got all the instructions about who needs what in their diet. Between the number of kosher eaters on Jake’s side and the number of vegetarians on Cassie’s, Rachel made the call to go all the way to a fully vegan buffet. That’s probably going to get some of the relatives complaining about kids these days and rabbit food, but there’s no pleasing everyone.

Rachel deftly switches a few of the placecards, thereby putting Jordan on point to deal with their great-aunt and grandmother who have both already overindulged at the open bar, muttering an apology as she does. She puts Tobias to work making sure the bows on the backs of chairs are straight, and rushes up to the long table at the front to confirm that the armless chair meant to accommodate Cassie’s bulky skirt is in the correct place.

D.J. is here, playlist at the ready. Dance floor is clear of grass. Weather’s holding, but tent covers are on standby.

Slightly sweaty, she rushes back out with a chair under each arm just in time to catch the guests coming across the lawn.

“Everyone except the parents, head off to the cocktail hour!” she calls. “Jake, Cassie, moms and dads, with me.”

While Marco’s date (a photographer named Dakota) sets up the camera, Rachel goes into a flurry of motion straightening bowties, adjusting hairdos, and touching up makeup. Steve’s got a spot of cow blood on his forehead, she discovers to her horror, and by the time she’s done scrubbing that off Jake’s managed to get his tuxedo jacket misaligned again. Finally she steps back, breathing hard, and nods to Dakota.

Everyone smiles. The camera goes off.

“Okay.” Rachel claps her hands loudly, because Jake and Cassie are looking ready to stand up and go join the reception. “That’s one down, just twenty-three to go.”

********

Rather than tossing her whole bouquet all at once, Cassie picks it apart and gives a single flower to every single guest she can find. When the bouquet itself runs out, she disassembles her flower crown and hands that out piece by piece until everyone’s got at least one blossom. It just seems fairer that way, she says when Rachel asks.

Several of the traditions, Rachel reflects, seem to be lost on Jake and Cassie. They cut the first piece of cake… and immediately hand it to Ax. And then they cut the second piece, and the third piece, and keep right on cutting slices of cake and handing them out to people until Rachel has to step in and wrest the knife away. She’s grateful that they refrain from any of the food-fighting nonsense, since both their wedding outfits are headed to a charity auction first thing tomorrow morning, but honestly. They’re supposed to eat the first two slices, not drop half a tier of cake into the black hole of hungry andalite.

Cake served, Marco clinks a fork against a glass. “Ladies, gentlemen, and proletariats!”

There’s a general murmur as people look around, trying to spot who’s speaking.

With a hand from Jake, Marco climbs bodily onto the banquet table. “Everyone!” he shouts, and now they’re all looking at him. At him, and at the champagne flute in his hand. “Jake and Cassie!”

It gets a polite round of applause.

“Gotta start at the beginning, right?” Marco looks around the room, grinning. “So there I am, some snot-nosed three-year-old, minding my own business. And this chubby, dorky-looking little white kid comes running up to me and is like…” He leans in. “‘You wanna be my best friend?’”

He grins at Jake, who is flushing bright red.

“I shit you not, that was his opening line. ‘You wanna be my best friend?’ So I’m like…” Marco pantomimes reeling back in shock. “I dunno man, seems like a lot of commitment to make to a total stranger. You want explore our options first, maybe get a prenup, see if we’re compatible? I mean, for all I know five years from now you’re gonna find some younger, hotter best friend and then there I’ll be out on my ear with nothing to show for it.”

There’s a smattering of laughter throughout the room. Marco visibly draws strength from it.

“But you know what?” Marco leans down to look around, smiling like he’s got a secret. “Little dork kept right on showing up to my house and letting me use his television and getting his mom to give me fluffer nutters, and next thing I know it turns out he really is my best friend. I think he was onto something.

“Anyway, you think that one was bad…” He raises his eyebrows. “Couple years later, there we are in first grade, and this girl in teeny-tiny first-grader overalls comes into the room like…”

Marco claps one hand over the top of his champagne flute and clamps the other under the base, and actually walks a few steps down the table with the determined air of a very small and klutzy version of Cassie.

“And her opening line is…” Marco raises the flute to his mouth like it’s a microphone, dropping his voice. “‘You wanna see my moth?’”

Again, there’s a smattering of laughter. Cassie has a hand over her mouth, halfway doubled over in giggles at the memory.

“Now, us being minuscule and all, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that there was no double entendre going on here,” Marco says. “And I have to admit, no one has used that line on me since. So I say ‘sure,’ because I’m like six years old and this seems like a reasonable question. She lifts her hand up…”

Marco accompanies this with a pantomime of peering through his own fingers into his champagne.

He looks up. “And it’s not even a freaking moth!” he cries out. “Turns out, it’s just some little worm thing. So I tell her.” He puts on a snotty voice, mocking his younger self. “‘That’s not a moth, that’s just some little worm thing.’”

There’s a pause. Marco glances around the room. “See if you can tell where this story’s going.”

Marco and Cassie glance at each other. Cassie’s grinning smugly.

“She puts it in the classroom’s terrarium,” Marco drawls. “It turns into a rock. Two weeks later, rock cracks open and out pops a moth.”

The room cracks up again.

“So fast forward another few years, and she’s standing there holding this eight-eyed, venom-fanged thing. And she’s all like ‘just touch the spider, Marco. Don’t you want to be a spider, Marco? Isn’t it cute and fuzzy?’ As if she is completely unaware that she’s holding a giant-ass eight-legged freak.” Marco takes a sip for strength. “And right then, I look at Jake. And I’m thinking Jake, don’t ever let this girl go. Because if she doesn’t even think wolf spiders are ugly, then she’s got no idea about you. So here’s to Jake and Cassie. Made for each other, because no one else will have ‘em.”

Jake pokes Marco in the ankle, but he’s laughing as he does it.

“All right,” Marco says, “brace yourselves, and someone get some more tissues for my second mama, because I’m about to get sappy. I love you, Jean!” he calls. “I know we all gotta cry it out sometimes.”

She laughs and flaps a dismissive hand at him, but she’s also misty-eyed already.

“Dudes, I gotta be honest.” Marco is looking at Jake and Cassie. “I didn’t think we’d get here. I honestly did not believe, for a good long while there, that there were gonna be any weddings or graduations or driver’s licenses in any of our futures. Just seemed like a good idea not to bet on any of us having any futures, you know? Seemed like it might be the surest option.”

Cassie laces her fingers through Jake’s. Silently, her mouth pressed into a line, she nods.

“So, uh.” Marco sniffs, spinning back around and thrusting his champagne flute into the air. “Here’s to me being wrong, yeah?”

“To Marco being wrong!” Jake echoes, and tosses back his glass.

“To Marco being wrong!” the entire room calls back.

Marco jumps back down, Cassie and Jake catching him as he lands.

**********

After everyone but Menderash and Ax has finished eating, it’s Tom who becomes the next one to tink a fork against a glass for attention.

“In the spirit of full disclosure,” he tells the room, strolling slowly toward the head table. “I promised my brother there wouldn’t be a horah.” Tom stops, directly next to Cassie. “But what he didn’t know is that I’d already made a promise to my new sister-in-law that there would be. So what’s a guy to do?”

He snaps his fingers.

At this cue, several things happen at once. The DJ switches to “Hava Nagila.” Several people mob Jake at once. Tom grabs Cassie and lifts her bodily over his head, carrying her chair and all to the middle of the dance floor.

With a squeak of laughter, Cassie grabs the top of Tom’s head for balance. Jake is being hauled out next to her on a chair of his own, supported by Tobias and Menderash and Rachel and James. Marco and Ax are herding the rest of the gathering, shoving people into a circle and linking arms together as they go.

“I hate you!” Jake calls over the sound of the music and his own fit of giggles.

“Gotta keep the in-laws happy!” Tom yells back, unrepentant.

*********

“You sure you’ve got everything you need?” Rachel asks.

Cheyenne, the head caterer, gives her a double thumbs-up. The staff are tipped and most are ready to go, having divvied up the several extra schaeffers’ worth of falafel and butternut squash puree and other entrees that Rachel’d set aside for them. Melissa is set to take over tending bar from here, as planned, and she’s going to keep the groomsmen after for a few minutes for cleanup duty.

“Okay.” Rachel glances around at where the last of the countertops are getting a quick once-over with disinfectant. “Okay. If anything comes up…”

“I have your number.” Cheyenne smiles and nods.

Pushing back out of the room, Rachel heads for the gift table. Everything looks like it’s in good order, but she wants to make sure it all gets packed up properly and that none of the cards get lost in the kerfuffle. It’s mostly donation receipts, at Jake and Cassie’s request, but some of the traditionalists on both sides came with soup tureens or the like —

“Hey.” Jake catches her by the arm.

Rachel turns to look at him. “What’s wrong? Is it the great-aunts?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s all perfect.” He’s smiling shyly. “Thanks.”

“I need to check on the gifts,” Rachel says, because she’s a coward who doesn’t know how to do mushy conversations, especially not with Jake.

“The gifts are fine,” he says. “It’s all fine. Because you made it that way. So… thanks.”

When he pulls her into a hug, Rachel can’t resist straightening his hair one last time even as she returns the embrace. “You realize I do this for fun, right?” she asks, holding him at arm’s length and looking him in the eye. “Like, I could’ve hired a wedding planner, but honestly why bother?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything. All of it. Without you, Cassie and I wouldn’t even…”

Then, because this is all getting too honest, Rachel links her arm through his and drags him onto the dance floor for, he’s about to realize, their middle school gym class’s favorite godawful square dance.

*********

When she has do-si-doed Jake within an inch of his life, Rachel tosses him at Cassie. She pivots around and gives Tobias a flourishing courtesy; he returns it with an equally ridiculous bow.

“It is marvelous, how well they have adapted their balance to compensate for their lack of legs,” Menderash comments to Ax.

“Very true.” Ax leans next to him against the bar. They are currently sharing a delicious beverage Melissa has made for them, simply by unscrewing the lid from a nearly-empty jar of olives and handing over the remaining liquid.

It is true, some of the dancers are more talented than others. Michelle and Walter are synchronized with each other and the beat of the music, even if their choice of moves is not nearly as audacious as the spinning thing Marco and Dakota are doing. The bride and groom, meanwhile, are looking at their own feet and keep bumping into each other as they move. Between their relative unconcern with anyone but each other and the broad hem of Cassie’s dress, the other couples are giving them a wide berth.

“Do you wish to attempt such feats?” Ax asks, glancing at Menderash.

Menderash gives a full-body shudder. He flaps one hand in an andalite gesture that, if translated to English, would approximate fuck that.

Ax grins, drinking more olive juice.

“Have you done such a thing?” Menderash asks.

“Never for very long,” Ax says.

Jake and Cassie have given up on dancing entirely, descending into a giggle fit in the middle of the dance floor as they both attempt to disentangle Jake’s cuff link from the lace of Cassie’s hem. Rachel swirls by, briefly blocking their view. She’s switched partners. Dakota is doing their best to teach Tobias how to waltz while Marco and Rachel are now swing-dancing their way across the dance floor.

As both andalites watch in awe, Rachel spins Marco in a circle, swinging him out and then drawing him back close to her body. Marco pirouettes, throwing his head back so that his hair flares around his face, and then throws himself backwards. Rachel catches him neatly around the waist, dipping him nearly to the floor. Marco braces on her shoulders and she flings him upward with her whole body so that she actually lifts him off the floor for a second before gracefully sweeping him back down. They separate until just the tips of their fingers are touching, and then spin back together until Marco suddenly swoops under Rachel’s arm, coming up on the far side as she pivots around in time fro him to fall back against her.

Ax is reminded of the way they fight. There’s something almost joyful in their ferocity on the battlefield. There’s something almost frightening in their enthusiasm on the dancefloor. Neither of them seems to know how to do anything by half measure.

One by one the other clusters of dancers have stopped to watch as well. Jake and Cassie, now sitting hopelessly tangled up in each other, seem quite happy to have the spotlight stolen.

Rachel swoops an arm around Marco’s waist and slides into a back-and-forth tango step. Within two beats he’s caught on, falling into the same rhythm as her. When the tempo of the song changes he grabs her shoulder and nudges her into a circular waltz. They’re unrehearsed, and inexpert, but moving with such force and communicating so rapidly that it doesn’t really matter.

“Yes,” Menderash says softly, “I very much do not wish to attempt to dance.”

Ax smiles at him over the rim of the olive jar. It’s empty, and in the time it takes him to set it back on the bar and catch her eye, Melissa has replaced it with maraschino cherry liquid.

The song crescendos; Marco leans his full weight back as Rachel flings him into a long spiraling turn that ends with him sliding on his knees clear between her legs, popping up behind her just in time to brace as she tips backward into him. She spins once, twice, four times, then swings him into a dip so low that his hair brushes the floor.

As the song ends they freeze like that, chests heaving, hair damp with sweat.

They both seem to become aware at once that the whole room’s watching them. Marco opens his mouth to say something, when Rachel’s smile turns wicked. That’s the only warning he gets before she opens her arms and lets him drop. Marco squawks indignantly, throwing out both elbows to catch himself. He gets ahold of Rachel’s arm and tries to yank her down as well, but ends up pulling himself to his feet as well.

The whole room breaks out into clapping. Marco sweeps into a low bow. Rachel visibly considers pushing him over again before deciding against it. Instead she runs to try and rescue Cassie’s hand-sewn lace hem and Jake’s antique silver cufflinks from their respective owners’ incompetence.

*********

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says around a yawn.

«Uh-huh?»

Idly they watch as Tom waltzes Cassie’s grandmother around the dance floor. She’s 4’11” to his 6’4”, so it’s pretty hilarious to witness. But at least they’re not totally mismatched: each has a single sprig of valerian from Cassie’s bouquet tucked behind one ear.

She and Tobias are sitting on the ground at one corner of the dance floor. Rachel’s got her shoes off to massage her aching ankles, and Tobias is perched back on her shoulder. With clever motions of his beak he’s fishing the pins out of her hair one by one, dropping them into her hand as he slowly disassembles her updo.

“How do you feel about never, ever getting married?” Rachel asks.

Tobias drops another bobby pin into her hand. «Best idea you’ve had all year.»

#animorphs #animorphs ficlet #animorphs au #(sadly)#long post #weddings #jake/cassie #cake #alcohol mention #rachel berenson #is the canonically biggest cassie/jake shipper on the planet #do it for her #anonymous #asks

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lukecastellandeservedbetter · 4 years

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12. The Mom Interlude

a/n: this is a different pace, a different sort of fic. But I think it’s important, y’know? The action will pick up next fic.

Read the others!: Masterlist

Sally was baking.

Again.

She had given all the cookies from before to Leo and Luke. Not that she minded. Paul was off at a teachers convention this weekend, which left her alone in the apartment.

The apartment itself was not very big. It had limited square footage, and had to be kept in a particular order. It didn’t take very long for the place to seem cluttered and messy. The couch made it a little difficult to navigate through the living room with the new coffee table, and she had to be careful when she was taking the laundry to the rooms because the hallway was narrow, and if she moved the wrong way with the basket in her arms, the pictures could be knocked off the wall. In the kitchen, she had mastered the art of cleaning as she went when she cooked or baked anything, as well as the skill of stacking dishes. The table usually doubled as a desk for various degrees of homework, so they had a little shelf area that was always strewn with papers. It had been a stretch when Paul moved in with Sally and Percy, and Sally had to do some real rearranging in order to accommodate Luke. Sometimes, she felt like she was going to go crazy, living with so many people in such close quarters.

With Percy and Luke gone, the apartment felt too big now.

Sally was washing dishes, a little lost in thought while she waited for the timer on the last batch of chocolate chip cookies.

She may have been wary about allowing the young man who spent nearly four years trying to kill her son to move in with them, but when she actually met Luke, she saw what Percy had meant when he had Iris-Messaged to ask her if it would be okay.

Luke just needs someone who cares about him.

Percy had given Sally the basic rundown about Luke, and his behaviour. What happened to Thalia, what happened with his mom, how long he had been at camp, his quest. From what Sally could tell, Luke had just been a kid who was angry and upset and manipulated by someone who had thousands of years to figure out how to get people to do what he wants.

It hadn’t taken very long for Luke to feel like a second son. He was respectful, quiet, and a hard worker. He insisted on paying Sally back for the clothes and monthly transit pass she had purchased for him. Sometimes, she found Percy at the table with Luke, quietly explaining something to the older demigod. On those nights, she would be brutally reminded that Luke had run away at such a young age, he didn’t understand a lot of school concepts. And Percy might not be the most diligent student, but he was patient when he explained them.

She smiled at the memory of Luke and Percy realizing that geometry could be used for swordplay and battle strategies. They must’ve sat there for an hour, a real feat for two demigods with ADHD and Dyslexia, mapping out ten different strategies together.

The timer went and Sally shut off the water, drying her hands and put on her oven mitts, pulling the cookies out of the oven when the buzzer sounded.

She shut the oven door and rushed over, just in case it was Percy, or Luke, or even Annabeth or Rachel, just, anyone with more information. Luke hadn’t given her a time frame, he merely told her soon.

She pressed the speak button. “Hello?” She said quickly, trying not to sound excited.

“Uh, hi, sorry, is this the Jackson residence?” An unfamiliar woman’s voice came through the speaker.

Sally furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s Blofis actually, may I ask who is speaking?” She said slowly, glancing over at the celestial bronze sword Luke and Percy had insisted they leave with her and Paul in case of emergencies.

“Oh, sorry, I must’ve got the wrong address from Chiron, I’m so sorry,” The woman apologized profusely.

“Chiron?” Sally repeated, an image of the kind centaur flashed through her mind. “From Long Island?” She asked, still a little uneasy.

“From Camp, yes,” The woman answered, a little more quiet. “He told me I could find my son here.”

“Son?” Sally was bewildered at the statement.

“Yes, my son, Luke. My name is May Castellan.” The woman told her.

Sally stared at the receiver for a moment. May Castellan? How had she managed to get all the way here? From what Percy had told her, Luke’s mom was nearly incoherent in Connecticut, having been driven out of her mind by the curse on the Oracle of Delphi.

“Hello, are you still there?” The woman claiming to be May Castellan spoke up again.

“Yes, yes, sorry. Let me buzz you in.” Sally was pulled out of her reeling mind and buzzed her in, putting on a pot of coffee.

It was quiet. And awkward. The two women sat at the table, coffees in hand and cookies on the table as the seconds ticked by.

“So… you’re Luke’s mom then,” Sally said, looking down at the picture May had brought as proof of a young Luke and her.

She almost didn’t recognize it as Luke, without the scar, but his eyes were the same, and his blonde hair.

It was enough proof for her.

“Yes, is he here?” She asked curiously.

“I, uh, no, he isn’t.” Sally told her. “He’s off on a quest.”

“A quest?” May repeated, leaning back in her chair.

Sally nodded. “He’s going to save my son, Percy, and bring him home.” She explained.

May was quiet for a moment. “And how long is that going to take?” She asked.

Sally sighed. “I don’t know,” She admitted. “Luke told me they would be back soon. That’s all I know.”

“When were you talking to Luke?” May asked, perking up a little bit.

“Last night,” She told her honestly. “He stopped in with another camper and-”

“He was here?” May demanded, standing up. “Then he shouldn’t be far away, right? Is there a way to contact him? Can you bring him back, just for a minute?” She asked frantically.

“May,” Sally stood up, gently taking her hand and sitting her down again. “Demigods can’t use phones, it attracts monsters. And we can’t Iris-message them, we can only accept.”

“Maybe you can’t, but I-”

“Have the sight?” Sally guessed. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

May got quiet and sipped her coffee, eyeing the cookies. “Luke likes chocolate chip cookies.” She mumbled. “I always burnt them.”

Sally watched the woman worriedly. “May, I don’t mean to be rude, but the last I heard, you were under a curse from the Oracle. How did you get here?”

May sighed, like she had been expecting this question. “One day I woke up. There were sandwiches and cookies and juice boxes all over the kitchen. I… it’s murky. Time kind of just, blended together. I have a couple memories, one of Luke coming home, except he was older. He looked like his dad.” She paused. “And then his dad did show up, and he caught me up on a lot of it. He said Luke was safe. And put me in contact with Chiron.” She sighed, swirling the coffee in her mug. “Luke hates me, doesn’t he?”

“We’ll be safe, don’t worry mom.”

It echoed in Sally’s mind. She sighed and took one of the cookies off the plate. “I don’t think he does,” She told her softly. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but if you were under the curse, I’m not sure Luke knows the real you enough to hate you.”

May took a shaky breath and looked back down at her coffee. “I thought if I took on the Oracle, it would be easier on him. I could be in his world more.”

Sally’s heart ached for the woman in front of her. “I know.” She whispered. “Why don’t you leave your number with me? When Luke comes home, I’ll have him give you a call. Or maybe we could drive out to Connecticut?” Sally offered. “He was studying for his learners permit before all of this, it might be good practice for him.”

May nodded slowly and stood, collecting her jacket. “Thank you Sally, for… everything. For this. For looking after my boy. For accepting him into your home. For giving him a chance.” She said as she wrote her number on the paper Sally had placed in front of her. “If you talk to him… can you tell him I’m sorry. And I miss him. And I love him.” She begged.

Sally nodded with a kind smile, walking May to the door. “Have a safe drive home May,” Sally told her.

May nodded and shook her hand before heading out of the apartment and down the hall.

Sally closed the door and took a seat in the chair Percy had occupied when he and Luke were reviewing the battle plans and sipped her coffee, staring at the chair across from her, eating another cookie thoughtlessly before her shoulders slumped forward.

And Sally cried for the boys whom she missed very much, and wished she could hug them one more time.

#Luke Castellan's Second Chance #luke castellan #percy jackson #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #pjo #hoo #Heroes of Olympus #May Castellan #Sally Jackson

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starmxras · 3 years

Text

The Ghost Of You | Ch 4

not me forgetting to post this for like 3 weeks smh 😗✌

Summary: Once a proud queen and later senator, all that's left is an empty shell of whom Padmé Amidala used to be. Navigating lies, deception, and newfound motherhood, can Padmé escape the clutches of Darth Vader, or will she die trying?

Story under the cut!

Several younglings hid behind chairs in the Jedi Council chambers.

The clone troopers had turned against the Jedi Order. Master Ti had told them to remain quiet and wait for her, so that's what they did.

It had been nearly an hour since she had left, and they had promised her they wouldn't leave the council chambers.

So they would continue to wait for her.

Some of the younger ones cried quietly, others had their own training 'sabers at the ready.

Suddenly, the Council doors opened, revealing Anakin Skywalker - he would know just what to do! If anyone could fix this, Master Skywalker could.

After all, he was the Chosen One - he was the one who was prophesized to bring balance to the force. He would know how to make this all better.

"Master Skywalker, there are too many of them! What are we going to do?" a youngling boy asked Anakin.

Anakin did not respond, igniting his lightsaber with little hesitation.

The boy takes a surprised step back, and some of the other children do the same.

"...Master Skywalker?"

Padmé relaxes on the couch, leafing through a novel.

"It's getting a bit late, Miss Padmé. Would you like me to put on your evening tea?" See-Threepio asks.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks," Padmé murmurs.

Mere seconds later, she hears the door buzzer.

See-Threepio pauses. "Are you expecting anyone at this hour?"

"No, I can't say I am," Padmé replies, setting her book down and making her way to the door. She presses the button to answer it.

"M'lady, Lord Vader has sent your sister to visit you. She's passed all of the clearance checks and she's clear for entry if you'll allow her." The clone she had come to know as Clone Commando Dice says.

Padmé gasps. Anakin had invited Sola over? Was this his way of apologizing?

She clears her throat. "Thank you, Dice. Let her in, please."

The doors part, allowing Sola inside.

"Padmé! Sola exclaims, arms outstretched.

"Sola! Oh, how are you? It's so good to see you!" Padmé returns the hug.

"Oh!... You're a bit...um, you definitely..." Sola trails off awkwardly, gesturing in the vague direction of Padmé's stomach.

"I'm sorry I haven't been in contact. Life has been...complicated, lately. Here, let me help you with your bags."

"That's okay, Padmé. You're pregnant, so you're not supposed to be lifting heavy objects."

"Right." Padmé blushes. "Well Threepio is making tea right now, would you like some?"

"That sounds blissful," Sola replies. "I was on that starship for almost a day. Cheap space travel makes me nauseous. Is there anywhere to put my bags?"

"Yeah, follow me to the closet."

The two sisters are sitting at the kitchen table with tea in silence when finally Sola asks: "So...one, how far along are you? Two, is Anakin the father?"

Padmé chuckles. "One, I just went into my eighth month about...a week ago, though I haven't been paying too much attention to the days, secondly, yes."

Sola tilts her head. "So it's been eight months and you didn't comm your big sister?" she half-jokes.

Padmé throws her hands up in defense. "I wasn't planning on sharing it yet. I had planned on telling you and Mom and Dad in person, but then I kept delaying my trip to Naboo and then the...Galactic-Republic-Getting-Reformed was really the icing on the Corellian cake."

"...That's fair." Sola shrugs. "So hey, where can I sleep?"

Padmé pauses. "...Um...I don't think I have a guest bedroom. You could...sleep on the couch?"

Sola snorts. "You're really rolling out the red carpet for me."

"It's not my fault there's no guest room, I just-" Padmé pauses. Perhaps it was better to not tell Sola the circumstances for being in her new home. "We didn't think we'd be having guests over. This place is just temporary."

"Speaking of 'we', where's Anakin, anyway?"

Kuat

" We are approaching the drop-off point for the Separatist Remnant's camp now. Expect heavy fire when you reach the camp, " a clone pilot says over the LAAT's intercom.

"This is gonna be a bloodbath," Anakin hears one of the clones mutter. There's a ripple of quiet agreement.

Anakin wordlessly agrees.

The clones, equipped with jetpacks, prepare to drop. There's an unspoken thought that most of them are thinking, and that collective thought is most of us are not going to survive this .

The Separatists, to their credit, had managed to scrape together the last of their military, a formidable amount, and no doubt they were going to keep their position on Kuat in a stranglehold.

Kuat was extremely important to the Republic (and now, the Empire); without Kuat, the military would be unable to get new starships.

And then, before Anakin knows it, they're dropping onto the cold, snowy ground in the dead of night.

Anakin ignites his newly constructed red bladed lightsaber, and from then, it's all a blur.

"We should be getting to sleep," Sola yawns. The two women are now relaxing on the couch, enjoying the warmth from the fireplace. "You need all your sleep before the babies come. I should know, when I had Ryoo, I don't think I slept for more than two hours a day."

Padmé snorts. "Ryoo was also a fussy baby."

"And you're having twins! I don't think you'll be sleeping at all."

"...Maybe," Padmé admits. "But, I'd like to think they'll be good babies."

"For your sake, I hope that's true." Sola laughs. "But seriously, I'm tired and you need your sleep. It's..." Sola pauses, glancing at the chronometer. "...Nearly two in the morning. Plus, you're on my bed."

"Fair enough. But...one question. How did you...come up with baby names? I've known for nearly seven months and I still can't decide."

"Ryoo was Darred's great aunt's name. I found Pooja's on a holodrama." Sola admits with a smile.

"...Really, Sola, a holodrama?" Padmé teases. It was truly nice to have a pleasant conversation with another human being.

"Don't judge me! My doctor had me on bedrest. Nothing else is on the holo during the daytime. Anyway, are you considering any names?"

Padmé picks at a loose thread on her nightgown. "No...I was thinking maybe Luke for a boy. But I might not even be having a boy...which, in that case, I don't have any names."

"I'm sure you'll think of some," Sola encourages. "Okay, I really am tired now. You do know we can talk in the morning, right?"

"Fine, fine," Padmé says in mock-protest. "...Um, Sola, I can't get up."

Sola snickers. "I told you that you'd get stuck if you sat like that."

"Just help me into my bed," Padmé grumbles.

They stumble their way into Padmé's room, gentle laughter along the way.

"Thanks, Sola," Padmé says, settling into bed. "It's hard to move around these days, I feel humongous." Padmé chuckles lightly.

Sola smiles wistfully. "Yes, well y-" She falters, noticing a bruise spanning from Padmé's lower side to mid-thigh.

"What happened here?" she urges, concern evident in her voice. She lightly touches the bruise and Padmé winces.

"I didn't notice that before...I guess I must've bumped something too hard. As I said, it's hard to move around." Padmé shrugs.

Sola eyes Padmé skeptically. She grabs Padmé's left arm. "And here? Don't tell me you got a bruise on the opposite side of your body from 'bumping into something'."She sighs. "You can tell me anything, Padmé... please, what really happened?"

"...I don't know what you mean," Padmé says evenly. "I'm fine, Sola."

"I'm worried about you, Padmé...please, don't shut me out."

"It's none of your business!" Padmé yells. She softens, seeing the hurt look on her sister's face. "Sola...I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I really, really am fine, I promise."

Sola is about to reply when her watch beeps, indicating that it's a new hour.

Sola shifts, biting her lip. "...I better get to sleep. I'll let you off the hook for now, but please, I really want to talk about this again."

She leaves the room, leaving Padmé alone in bed, shutting the lights off on her way out.

Padmé sniffles, sitting up. Sola would never understand.

Padmé knew she meant well. She just wished she hadn't noticed the bruise. Everything had been going so well, and it was fun to embrace some normalcy in her otherwise completely disrupted world.

"I can't leave him," Padmé whispers to her baby once her sister is out of earshot. "I can't risk it right now...for both of our sakes."

#star wars fanfiction #star wars #anidala fanfic #padme amidala #revenge of the sith AU #fanfic #my writing

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kk095 · 4 years

Text

Crash Landing

This story is a little different, but I hope everyone enjoys it! There may be some typos, so I may have to correct them at some point. Anyway, I hope you guys like it!

*****

Matt and Suzie were a happy couple who tied the knot 2 years ago, and have been together for 5 years. Matt was a 30 year old white man with longish brown hair that was neat and well maintained. He stood at 5’10 with a slim build, had blue eyes that were behind a pair of glasses since he didn’t like contact lenses, but it gave him a nerdy look, which Suzie was into. Matt had a decent paying job, but it was the stereotypical bland, corporate type job that was totally unfulfilling. But outside of his monotonous work life, Matt was a pilot and even had his own small plane that he recently fixed up.

Suzie was a 28 year old white woman with wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skinned since she was of Italian descent on her mom’s side of the family. Suzie stood at 5’7 with a slender build, had bright white teeth that always made her smile stand out, didn’t have any tattoos but had piercings in her ears and belly button, and looked a bit young for her age. Suzie worked as a CNA in a nursing home in the next town over and hoped to go back to school to be an RN someday. Suzie was a conventionally attractive woman who many thought was out of Matt's league, but she was surprisingly down to earth and a generally pleasant person to be around.

The couple’s 2nd wedding anniversary came up, and Matt decided to take Suzie out for a ride on the plane, and then go out to a nice dinner afterwards. Suzie always thought Matt’s passion for flying to be interesting, and genuinely enjoyed going on plane rides with him. It’s a great opportunity to have quality 1 on 1 time and see the world from a different angle. Suzie has even tried to convince Matt to apply to be a commercial airline pilot, but Matt was never interested. He always felt that he’d lose his passion for flying if he did it for a living.

It was around 3:45pm when they took off that day. It was a cool, overcast day with a slight breeze, but no rain or fog, which is detrimental to flying- especially in a small plane like Matt’s. It took about 15 to 20 minutes to reach the air traffic controller’s suggested cruising altitude. There were beautiful, unobstructed views from that height, and the only noise was from the small plane’s propellers and the occasional check in from air traffic control. Out the left window, you could see miles and miles of ocean and out the right and front windows, you could see the beach and the town below.

The couple had a nice time together, but things began to change just as Matt headed back towards the airport. “This is tower 1. Check your altimeter reading. Our radar is saying you’re well above your aircraft’s ceiling.” A male voice said over the radio. Matt looked at the altimeter- which was many of the confusing looking meters in the cockpit. This particular device measures the aircraft’s altitude and the angle it’s traveling at, and has to be reset before every takeoff to ensure it’s working properly; it’s arguably one of the most important instruments that a pilot needs. Matt takes a look at the device and says “everything looks good on my end.” There’s a slight pause before the air traffic controller says “could be a radar miscue, but keep us posted the rest of the way.” Matt agrees and continues flying back towards the airport.

About 5 minutes later, the nose of the plane began pointing down slightly. Matt pulls back on the wheel, trying to point the plane back up but instead, the exact opposite starts to happen. The plane continues heading downwards, dropping several hundred feet in a short period. “is everything ok babe? Just a little drop?” Suzie asks, sensing something isn’t quite right. “I dunno. It’s like the plane doesn’t have any lift, but that shouldn’t happen at this altitude.” Matt says, trying to figure out which correction procedure to start. Matt struggled over the ensuing minutes to stabilize the aircraft’s angle, and a nosedive began. “fuck… we’re stalling!” Matt shouts urgently, realizing the problem too late. Suzie buckles up her seatbelt and white knuckles her armrests. She begins breathing heavily as she watches her husband struggle to fix the problem. “Matt…are we gonna be ok?” she asks, scared. Matt says something inaudible under his breath as he continues to frantically ameliorate their nose dive.

When their altitude decreased a bit and lift wasn’t re-established, the aircraft began to spin while continuing its plummet to the earth. Suzie closed her eyes tightly, squeezing the arm rests with all her might. “please don’t crash. Please don’t crash…” she thought to herself. While the aircraft was spinning, Matt’s glasses flew off his head and were tossed elsewhere in the aircraft. Matt began navigating the aircraft towards a vacant lot off in the distance for an emergency landing. “ok hun, this is gonna be a rough landing, but I need you to keep your eyes shut and be strong for me.” Matt says, nervous himself. Suzie nods and tells Matt she loves him, but begins to feel queasy from the aircraft’s erratic spinning.

Matt began to make preparation for a crash landing. This is something he’s trained for, but never in a million years expected to have to perform. During the aircraft’s descent, Matt was able to point the nose of the aircraft up so the bottom side of the plane would make contact with the ground. While Matt achieved the correct angle for an emergency landing and opened landing gear, he had trouble reducing speed.

What felt like seconds later, the bottom of the plane made contact with the ground in the vacant lot mentioned earlier. The plane bounced violently several times while still going forward. Suzie screamed as she was bounced around a little. The plane bounced several times, eventually ending up in a rocky area of the lot. The already violent landing because even more turbulent. Matt was shaken around quite extensively, hitting his head and neck multiple times against his seat and other surfaces. A rock flew up through the front window after being kicked up by the propeller. The rock was hurled right at Matt’s forehead and a tremendous speed, killing him instantly.

Finally, the aircraft came to an abrupt stop about a quarter mile or so after touching down. Suzie awoke minutes later after being knocked out herself. Her eyes opened slowly, and was a but groggy at first, but quickly regained her mental faculties. Her brown eyes scanned the scene out her window. She could see smoldering pieces of metal and fragments of the plane scattered across the dirt and rock covered area. “matt?” she asks before looking over at him. His face was battered and bloody from glass, the rock, and also had bruises from being thrown around. He was hard to recognize at that point, which visibly upset Suzie. “matt? MATT?!” she said, shaking him, to which she received no response. “MATT!” she screamed, realizing he wasn’t breathing- or alive for that matter. “oh my god… oh no… this isn’t happening…” she said to herself out loud, beginning to cry.

Sirens could already be heard off in the distance, with multiple reports of a plane crash being called into 911. Suzie began sobbing, holding her newly deceased husband’s hand, waiting for emergency personnel to arrive. Suzie felt a pain in her lower abdomen from the seatbelt locking up and pressing her abdomen. She also had a slight headache and felt a little nauseous, but had enough adrenaline and endorphins pumping through her to make her injuries feel tolerable.

The police department were first to arrive on scene. A female officer scurries over to the plane. “we have 2 victims- 1 male 1 female. Male is deceased and female is awake and alert.” She’s heard saying into her radio. “HE’S NOT DEAD. HE CAN’T BE! YOU GOTTA HELP HIM!” Suzie cries to the female officer. The cop tries to change the subject and talk about her injuries. “can you tell me where it hurts miss? The ambulance is almost here.” The cop says. “Matt’s dead…” Suzie cries out, not answering the officer’s question.

The fire department and ambulance arrives to the crash site about 2 minutes later. The fire department hooks up their hose to a fire extinguisher nearby and put out the small handful of fires nearby. 2 medics head over towards the plane and manage to open up the side door. “hi ma’am, we’re with Bristol County EMS. Can you tell me your name?” a female medic asks softly. “um…suzie. Suzie Carter. My husband’s Matt. Is he ok?!”suzie replied. The Male medic went to the opposite side and checked on matt. He felt for a carotid pulse, checked for respirations, and checked his pupils with a pen light. Matt was pulseless, not breathing, and had fixed and dilated pupils. The male medic discreetly shook his head at the female one, indicating Matt was a goner. “Matt? Is he ok? Is he dead?!” suzie cried out, panicked. “he’s in rough shape, but we have to focus on you for now, ok?” the male medic said, trying to reason with Suzie. The female medic placed a c-collar on Suzie and snipped the seatbelt with scissors. The medic then cut off Susie’s top, only sparing her black bra. “that’s a nasty looking bruise on your belly. Does it hurt?” the female medic asked. “um… kinda" suzie replied. The medic began palpating Suzie’s abdomen. “AHH!” Suzie yelped, wincing in pain. “abdomen’s stiff and rigid with point tenderness.” The female medic relays to the other. “what does that mean?” suzie asks. “it means you hurt your belly and we need to get you checked out at the hospital, alright?” the male medic said calmly.

Suzie is removed from the destroyed aircraft and placed onto a backboard and stretcher. The medics set up a portable heart monitor, which read unstable vitals: BP 90/55, heart rate 131 BPM, and a pulse ox of 95%. 2 large bore IVs were set up, and fluid resuscitation began. A dose of pain meds and a dose of valium were pushed do calm Suzie down in the ambulance.

In the ambulance, further examination began. Suzie's right forearm was broken, and she had a bump on her head. The female medic shined a pen light into Suzie's eyes to see if there was a head injury, but her pupils were equal and reactive. Suzie’s jeans were snipped off and her shoes were taken off, leaving her barefoot and half naked on the backboard with her bra and matching underwear only being spared. “ok Suzie, can you wiggle your toes for me?” the medic asked. “uh huh.” Suzie responded. Suzie's slender toes which were painted with black nail polish, remained perfectly still. “ok Suzie, let’s do it again.” The medic said. Once again, her toes remained still. “ok, good job.” The medic said, realizing a spinal cord injury was within the realm of possibilities. The medic then placed and o2 mask onto Suzie's face and just monitored her vitals the rest of the way.

Upon arrival to the ER, Suzie was lifted onto the trauma room table under the big overhead light while the medics rattled off information to the trauma team. “Hi Suzie, can you tell me if you passed out during the accident?” a veteran nurse asked softly. “I don’t remember.” Suzie said. “I’ll take that as a yes.” The nurse replied. Trauma labs were drawn and blood transfusions began while the attending called out orders. Chest x-rays and a FAST scan were performed. The x-ray showed a complex fracture of the right ulna, requiring surgical intervention to repair, a vertebra fracture at the L3 level, and a partially collapsed right lung. The FAST scan came back clean for the chest and pelvis, but there was a serious non-specific bleeding in the abdomen. “page ortho and surgery. I want a head, chest, abdomen CT. And let’s do a right chest tube while we’re at it.” The attending barked to his subordinates.

Suzie screamed and yelped in pain during the chest tube insertion since she was wide awake, but her o2 stats went up markedly once the tube’s placement was confirmed. A blanket was placed over her torso and she was wheeled over to radiology for a CT scan. The scan showed a small brain bleed that was thought to dissipate on its own. The spinal cord injury was confirmed, and it didn’t seem very promising since there was damage to the spine itself. In all likelihood, Suzie would be paralyzed from the waist down. The abdominal bleeding source wasn’t able to be located on the CT scan, so it was decided that she would be taken to the operating room for an exploratory laparotomy.

After being whisked upstairs into the OR, Suzie was quickly prepped for surgery. She was sedated and intubated with a 7.5 ET tube, with the tube being secured with a blue tube holder. Her belly was sterilized with betadine, staining it a brownish orange color. A midline incision was made in the attractive brunette's belly. The skin separated with ease from the sharp scalpel blade. The underlying fat, connective tissue, and muscle was cut through to expose the abdomen. A rush of blood came out of the incision upon entrance to the abdominal cavity, but before retractors could be placed. Suction was applied to the area, but it didn’t help. The retractors were placed and the opening was created. The area had to be suctioned, but it became apparent that there was extensive bleeding. The liver, spleen, IVC, and aorta were all intact, so the originally suspected culprits were ruled out. The surgical team then began the tedious task of searching through the bowel loops and mesenchymal area for injuries.

During the tedious search, Suzie's blood pressure began dropping. More blood products were hung and vasopressors were pushed, but that was simply a band aid meant to buy some time. After 2 more minutes of unsuccessful probing and prodding, Suzie’s vitals began to plummet rapidly. Meds were pushed, but she became pulseless. The abdominal surgery was paused temporarily and chest compressions were started. Suzie’s chest caved in repeatedly as it was pounded away by one of the nurses. Her perky, B cup breasts bounced and jiggled in sync with each of the compressions. On the heart monitors, PEA was displayed. Epi and atropine were injected intravenously in an attempt to obtain a shockable rhythm.

After a few cycles of unsuccessful chest compressions, the lead surgeon decided to look for the bleed once again. Suction had to he applied once more, but the doctor found a bleed in one of the mesenteric veins. A vascular clamp was placed in the meantime until the vessel could be ligated. Blood still accumulated in the abdomen, so it appeared another vessel was severed in the vicinity. While going through more bowel loops, there was significant bruising and swelling in the jejunum. Another bleed was located in a deeper mesenteric vein, and that vessel was subsequently clamped off. No additional blood accumulated in the abdomen, so it appeared all bleeding sources have been located. In the meantime, the code ensued. A 2nd round of drugs were pushed and more blood products were hung from the rapid infuser.

Finally, the monitors showed v-fib. The defibrillator paddles were gelled and charged to 200j. The defibs were then pressed up against Suzie's bare chest as everyone stepped away from the table in anticipation of the shock. Suzie’s body jolted abruptly in response to the shock, but she remained in v-fib. Chest compressions were resumed while the paddles were being readied. A moment later, a 300j shock was delivered. Suzie’s lifeless body reacted more noticeably from the stronger shock. Her back arched slightly and thrust her chest upwards, jiggling her b cup breasts. Suzie wasn’t shocked out of v-fib, so life saving efforts resumed. A nurse took over chest compressions, pumping away at the 28 year old's chest while the defibs were being recharged to 360j. The next shock was delivered about 30 seconds later, causing Suzie’s feet to leap up above the table and slam back down a second later, showing off the thick, prominent handful of wrinkles in her size 8.5 soles. Luckily, this shock converted the attractive brunette to sinus bradycardia, and surgery could continue.

The rest of the surgery was touch and go, but the OR team managed to maintain a pulse. The 2 severed mesenteric veins were successfully ligated and proper blood drainage was restored to the intestines, but post operative monitoring for blood clots was important. Next, orthopedics began their end of the surgery. Suzie’s fractured ulna was surgically reduced with a small rod and pins that were inserted directly into the bone. Lumbar fusion surgery of the L3-L4 space was performed to reduce motion in the area and prevent additional damage to the spinal cord itself.

After the surgery, Suzie was transferred to the ICU for careful monitoring. She remained sedated and intubated, but switched over to a ventilator. A catheter and central line were placed, and antibiotics were added to her cocktail of medicines since her abdomen was open for almost 5 hours. Suzie's parents and older sister arrived at the hospital about an hour and a half earlier, and were waiting in a private waiting room together.

“How is she?!” Suzie’s mom asked the trauma surgeon, teary eyed as soon as he entered the room. “she’s in the ICU and in pretty rough shape. She sustained some major internal bleeding during surgery and her heart stopped beating for 6 minutes- we were lucky to get her back. She also sustained a spinal cord injury, and it’s very possible she’ll be paralyzed from the waist down. She has a moderate head injury we're monitoring, and she also suffered a badly broken arm in the crash. I’m very sorry ma’am” the trauma surgeon said. “paralyzed?!” her mom asked, beginning to cry again. The doctor paused, then sighed before continuing. “yes ma’am. The spinal cord injury she sustained is quite serious, so it’s very possible she’ll be paralyzed. Best case scenario, she’ll have major issues with mobility.” The family paused, taking all of the bad news in. “I wanna see her.” The mom demanded. “I can take you up to see her, but I warn you- she’s sedated and hooked up to a breathing ventilator. She’s gonna look pretty beat up, so please keep that in mind, ok?” The surgeon said.

The surgeon escorts the 3 family members up to the ICU. “oh god…my poor baby…” the mom cries out, almost falling to her knees after seeing Suzie hooked up to a ventilator and connected to other equipment. Suzie was covered in abrasions, her chest was bruised from CPR, there was a large bandage on her belly covering up the closed incision, the bump on her head appeared to have gotten a little bigger, her complexion was a ghastly pale, and she was cool to the touch. Suzie’s BP and heart rate were stabilizing, but her chest tube had to be fixed a bit after surgery since it was knocked loose from the resuscitation efforts.

She remained relatively stable for the next handful of hours, but there were some changes that occurred around 3am. Her blood pressure dropped again, and her medication dosage was upped. But at 3:30, Suzie began having a seizure. Her body twitched and thrashed involuntarily on the bed as her family watched in horror. “help! SOMEONE HELP!” Suzie’s sister shouted, attracting a nurse’s attention. A few nurses and the doctor entered the room. Lorazepam was pushed intravenously to control the seizure, but it was discovered that her right pupil was blown and the left pupil was constricted. 2 minutes later, the seizure was controlled and Suzie was taken back down to radiology for a repeat head CT.

The scan showed that her brain was swelling, and that raised a major red flag with the doctors. Since her head injury had a delayed reaction that required additional care, she was taken back up to the OR to have an intracranial pressure monitor placed.

A portion of her head was shaved and the small, hairless patch was sterilized with betadine. Once the area was cleaned, an electric drill was used to create a small opening in the skull. After the opening was made, a small pressure sensitive monitor was calibrated and fed into the hole, and constant intracranial pressure monitoring began. Initially, Suzie’s ICP reading was 12mm/Hg, which is abnormal, but still below the threshold for further intervention. Anything above 0 is abnormal, but 15-20 is considered dangerous, and anything above 20 is typically fatal since the brain herniates at that point. Suzie was taken back to the ICU after the procedure was completed.

Over the next few hours, Suzie’s ICP readings increased 16 mm/Hg. At that point, the ICU team decided to put Suzie into a medically induced coma in an attempt to prevent further brain swelling and give her body a chance to recover.

Throughout the day, Suzie only showed signs of getting worse despite the doctor’s best interventions. Her ICP monitor was displaying 17 mm/Hg, but her pupils were fixed and dilated. After a neurology consult and an eeg, it was determined that Suzie was brain dead. The attending physician delivered the bad news to Suzie’s family, and they decided to remove her from the ventilator. Suzie was surrounded by her family and was pronounced dead at 8:21am.

After the ICU team gave her family a chance to grieve and say goodbye, they went into the room and began removing equipment from her battered, lifeless body. The EKG electrodes were disconnected, the IVs were removed, all monitors were shut off, and her body was covered up, only leaving her feet exposed. A toe tag was filled out and placed. The tag dangled in front of Suzie’s wrinkly soles as she was taken to the hospital morgue.

Suzie’s cause of death was determined to be brain herniation from the head injury she sustained. The brain injury was moderate at first, but had a delayed onset and grew progressively worse. The cause of the plane crash was investigated over the following weeks, and the cause was determined to be calibrating the altimeter wrong, and ended up at a higher altitude than the plane was made to fly in, so the plane stalled. Overall, this was a preventable accident that led to the deaths of 2 young people.

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spiderman-homecomeme · 5 years

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Day Two - Remember Me

AN: Y’all we made it!! I’m so excited to share this one with you guys and to see what our talented fandom has done! Here is my contribution to day two! It’s all kinds of sappy, soft, sweet, sad (peep the title) and just emotional in general, and I hope you guys enjoy it. <3

Again, thank you @spideychelleweek for making this all possible!

Prompt: Meet the Family

Here is some 2.9k odd of fluff and hurt/comfort!

“Listen, I know you’re a huge nerd and everything, but..." Michelle’s voice holds a teasing, slightly judgmental edge as she struggles to hold three DVDs in one hand, hastily catching one as it falls out of her grasp. “Do you really need more than one copy of The Force Awakens?”

“Okay, first of all,” Peter starts, defensively holding one finger up, “One of those is Ned’s.”

MJ blinks slowly.

“Second of all, May bought me one as a random gift after I’d already pre-ordered it, and I couldn’t just… you know, give it back,” He reasons. “So, yeah. To answer your question: I do need three different copies.” Peter turns his attention back to organizing the box of various electronics hastily thrown together by past-Peter.

MJ still seems less than impressed with that explanation. “Okay. Why?”

“Well,” Peter shrugs, mouth pulling into a slight frown. “What if I lose one?”

When she doesn’t respond, Peter glances up, not surprised to find her staring blankly at him, her expression as impassive as it’s ever been.

He relents, letting her toss one of the three into the “give away” bin before promising to give the second back to Ned.

MJ, out of the kindness of her own heart— or out of boredom, either one— has been helping Peter, in her own words, “get his shit together,” for most of the afternoon. Too many times has she tripped over a stray book, his backpack, a hoodie or even a lone pair of boxers on the floor of his bedroom; times where she��s been unable to find the spare iPhone charger through all the spare papers, pens, and God knows what else in that mess he calls a “stuff drawer.”

Now, none of this is to say that Peter is the messiest person in the world, per se. He can be a relatively tidy person when he needs to be; his room is never littered with trash or the general grossness that comes with some teenage bedrooms.

But...

The cluttered state of Peter’s room is often a reflection of his own mind.

Which is why Michelle is there.

Plus, she’d seen one episode of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo one day when she was home sick from school, and with her room already pretty damn organized-- if she could say so herself-- she has to have some kind of outlet.

So, in a way, they’re really helping each other.

“Oh, hey,” Peter’s voice cuts through her internal monologue, his attention drawn to an ancient— by today’s standards, at least— video camera at the bottom of his second ‘random tech’ box. “Uncle Ben’s camera!”

For a moment, MJ’s ready to go into full-on Comfort Peter in the Best Way She Can Mode at the mere mention of his late Uncle, and she’s trying to decide whether she should do a full or half-hug when his fond, distant smile stops her.

“Wow, really?” She inquires cautiously, craning her neck slightly to get a better look at the artifact. “What’s on it?”

Again, Peter shrugs, flipping the screen open as he examines the device. “I dunno. Old home movies. Probably embarrassing videos of me.”

And he immediately regrets that last part, not having to see the cheshire grin that stretches across her features and the playful quirk of her brow to know that they’re there.

His shoulders sag as he rolls his eyes, fighting back a smile. “You don’t wanna watch any, do you?”

“Um, of course I do.” Her brows furrow as she glances side-to-side. “Are you kidding?”

“It’s not even charged, though.”

“So charge it.”

A beat of silence passes between them.

“Okay, fine,” Peter gives in, though he seems to be far from annoyed, searching for the charging cable near the bottom of the tangle of wires.

MJ cracks another smile at him before continuing to sort through his DVD collection.

The old camera feels strange in Peter’s hand, heavier than today’s technology, screen casting a faint blue light as it turns on for what may be the first time in a decade. He’s surprised they’ve even been able to charge it, judging by how old this thing is.

MJ sits on the bed beside him, head resting against his, watching as he navigates the almost laughably ancient menu, an audible, very dated beep-click sounding at every push of a button.

Neither of them know what to expect as Peter clicks “play” on the first video.

The screen flickers slightly, the lens focusing on what they assume to be the old dining room. A man and a woman are setting the table, chuckling quietly to themselves as they joke with one another. They continue to chat idly as they place the plates and cups down, the context of the conversation lost.

They’re at first only vaguely recognizable to MJ, but the feeling is fleeting, the realization almost instantly dawning on her when she sees the mop of curly brown hair and dark eyes on the man, the cheery smile on the woman’s face.

Richard and Mary Parker.

The date at the bottom of the screen reads: August 4th, 2005, 6:07 PM

Her eyes pass a quick glance to the boy next to her, gauging his reaction. There’s a faint, barely-there grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as he watches his parents interact, neither of them paying any attention to the person filming.

“I wanna help!” A tiny voice sounds from behind the camera, and the view shifts quickly, showing a much younger Peter bounding into the room, napkins in his tiny hands.

Mary turns, beaming as she talks to her son, crouching down to show him how to fold the napkins.

MJ feels herself mirroring the expression on his mother’s face.

Peter is still silent beside her, and she can only wonder how he’s truly feeling as they both watch. While she has certainly experienced loss in her near seventeen years of being on this earth, she’s never gone through the pain of losing a parent, much less two biological and one emotional.

“My mom and dad,” Peter finally speaks, as if introducing them to her, his voice quiet.

Under normal circumstances, she might tease him for pulling a Captain Obvious, but she refrains.

She hums in acknowledgement.

“It’s crazy…” He starts, eyes never straying from the screen. “I— I don’t really remember much of them, you know? They… Well, they died when I was really little, so I didn’t really get a chance to make very many memories with them, and everything I did remember I kinda forgot. But—” He pauses, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Hearing their voices… Even though it’s not really something I actually remember… It’s almost like… like it all comes back. Like, it’s so clear, you know?”

It’s said that the the voice is usually the first to go, the first thing one forgets about someone else after they’ve gone. And the more she thinks about it, the more MJ realizes just how true it is. She remembers, very specifically, the last time she heard her grandfather’s voice, but it had been so long since then. In that moment, right then and there, she can just barely recall it in her memory.

She knows, however, that if she were to hear it in a recording— or in this case, a home video— she’d remember once again.

Memories are funny like that, she guesses.

“Yeah,” she nods, gently knocking his shoulder with hers. “I get it.”

The video goes on, with the cameraman— who Michelle can only assume at this point to be Uncle Ben— having moved to the kitchen.

A younger Aunt May stands in the room, poring over a recipe on the counter. “Damn, May,” MJ jokes appreciatively, laughing as Peter gives her a playful shove.

“Don’t even!”

The lens zooms in on May’s face, and she turns, an exasperated grin breaking across her features as she rolls her eyes. She swats at the man behind the camera with a dish towel.

“Hey, how ‘bout you put that dang thing away and make yourself useful around here!” May teases, her eyes sparkling as an immature-for-his-age giggle is heard from the cameraman.

The video ends as the screen pans down, the next playing with only a second in between.

The date reads: August 7th, 2005, 3:36 PM

“Whatcha got there, Pete?”

This time, Aunt May’s voice can be heard from behind the camera, the smile in her tone infectious as the little boy beams up at her through a mop of curly brown hair. A slightly-too-big cowboy hat sits on top of his head. He proudly holds up the pinto hobby horse, jumping with excitement.

“It’s a horsey!”

Aunt May oo’s and aw’s. “What’s the horsey’s name?”

Little Peter pats the neck of the toy with semi-gentle, reverent hands. “Shunshine!”

“Shunshine?” MJ asks incredulously, doing absolutely nothing to hide the snort that had escaped.

MJ can hardly blame the kid though; she’s pushing seventeen and she still has trouble with consonant digraphs every once in a while.

“Hey!” Peter laughs along with her, though there was no stopping the red tint that settled over his features. “It’s a great name!”

“Very creative.”

“Shut up.”

Their joined laughter fades as the next few videos play, falling into a comfortable silence as the old Parker living room shows up on the screen. Red and blue streamers adorn the walls, dozens of balloons in the same shades touch the ceiling, a comically large Happy Birthday! is strewn across the banister.

The date reads: August 10th, 2005, 4:14 PM

The camera circles the room, showing off the decorations, before finally landing on the birthday boy himself.

“What’s your name, sir?”

A new voice full of mirth and humor asks from behind the lens; his father.

Young Peter looks up, a toothy grin stretched across his chubby face. “Peter Benjamin Parker,” he answers, emphasizing each word with a firm nod.

“And how old are you today?” His mother asks, tone laced with hushed excitement.

The boy smiles again, eyes wide, holding up four fingers.

“Four years old!” Both of his parents gasp-cheer.

August 10th, 2005, 5:23 PM

The birthday cake is simple; funfetti with chocolate frosting and red and blue sprinkles, a giant “four” candle placed in the center. Peter wiggles in his chair, eyes wide with wonder as he watches his mother light the wick.

“Are you ready, Peter?” She asks him, and he nods happily.

Happy Birthday is sung as it should be; full of enthusiasm, each singer being in a different key by the end of the song, cheers filling the room as the candle is blown out.

His mother plants a loving kiss on top of his head before smoothing down his unruly curls.

August 10th, 2005, 6:16 PM

The lens briefly goes in and out of focus, showing young Peter as he sits among torn wrapping paper and discarded boxes, his mouth stretched into a toothy smile as he looks at his presents. He jumps up, running around the room to give everyone an enthusiastic hug, thanking them over and over again for the toys.

August 10th, 2005, 7:02 PM

“Happy Birthday, Pete!” His family cheers in a happy chorus.

Peter responds with an excited, “Thank you!”

Aunt May briefly glances up, flashing a smile at her husband behind the camera, before looking back at the young boy in her lap. Her arms surround him in a loose, but loving embrace.

“Did you have a good day?” May asks.

Peter’s answer is an excited nod, followed by an appreciative hum.

Though the snippets of this past life are brief, they’re still able to elicit a familiar warmth from within present day Peter, and he huffs out a quiet chuckle at the way his younger self babbles on and on about how cool his brand new cowboy boots are.

And it’s infectious, as MJ feels the stirrings of the same, incandescent feeling.

The next clip starts from a whole new perspective, it seems.

Seeing as now they’re much closer to the ground, and the excited giggling coming from behind the lens, it seems as if young Peter, at some point, had gotten a hold of Ben’s camera.

August 12th, 2005, 5:50 PM

The view is shaky as the little boy darts throughout the apartment, pausing every few feet to film one of his relatives— though he only gets their legs in the shot; he’s only just pushing 3’1”, after all.

“Whatcha doin’, Pete?”

A new voice can be heard as a pair of work boots come to a stop in front of the boy, one they hadn’t heard yet.

Michelle can feel Peter freeze at the sound, and she glances at him through the corner of her eye; his gaze is still trained on the small screen, his smile tightening.

Uncle Ben himself crouches down, his tall body barely fitting into the frame, the top of his head partially cut off. A broad smile is stretched across his kind face, green eyes looking over the lens and at the boy holding the recorder.

“Filming,” young Peter says simply.

“I can see that! Got anything good yet?”

The camera moves as the boy nods proudly. “Uh-huh. Just like you!”

“Just like me?”

“Yeah! Are you proud?” Though the word comes out more, “poud.”

“Of course,” Ben chuckles gently, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair, eyes crinkling as his smile widens. “I’ll always be proud of you, bud.”

The video pauses, the screen frozen on the happy scene.

Present-day Peter hasn’t relaxed, his lips pressing together into a thin line, releasing a weighted breath as his thumb hovers over the play button.

MJ’s stomach churns with a new sense of guilt. “We don’t have to watch anymore… if you don’t want to.”

He nods quietly, slowly closing the screen, gripping the camera in his hands, knuckles nearly turning white at the pressure. Michelle sits, arms folding across her chest as she faces the internal struggle of what to say next, still unable to shake the unease festering in her gut.

“It’s just—” Peter starts, his voice cutting off. He sniffs again, glancing away as he preemptively wipes at the corner of his eye. “Hearing him again… his voice… seeing him actually talk...” He shakes his head. “It just— It got to me, I guess…” He trails off, his gaze still trained on the wall in front of them.

MJ places a hand on top of his, watching his face as he continues to speak.

“And I thought I was… good now? I don’t know. I mean,” he swallows, trying his best to keep his voice even. “I know that you never really forget them, that you never really move on… And everyone always tells you that it’ll get easier but it doesn’t... But, I guess I just thought that I was actually doing better. That it really had gotten easier. Maybe I was the exception... I stopped thinking about him every second… I had some voicemails— that he’d left me, before he… you know… but I’d never listened to them, I guess… because I was too afraid. Of what? I don’t know...”

She gives his hand a comforting squeeze, her own heart pounding in her ears.

“Like, I know that it makes sense that I don’t really remember what my parents sound like, their voices. ‘Cause, you know, I didn’t get the chance to. But I never—” His voice is caught in his throat, the shakiness making it harder and harder to speak. He finally turns to look at her, bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes clouded with tears.

“I never thought I’d forget his.”

At that, without a second thought, she opens her arms, and he falls into them easily. She wraps him in a warm embrace, his face burrowing under her chin. He doesn’t weep, tears falling silently instead as she rubs soothing circles on his back.

And she doesn’t know how long she holds him like that, how long they sit there. No words are exchanged between them, though none are really needed.

“Sorry… For making you watch that,” MJ’s voice is nearly inaudible as she mumbles into his hair. “I shouldn’t have pressured you.”

“No, uh—” This time, he shakes his head, the quiet sniffle between words not going unnoticed. “No. No, it’s okay,” he reassures her, finally pulling back, though he still stays in her arms. “It’s actually really nice… seeing my parents. Seeing Ben. I’m not gonna say that it’s like they never left... But it’s like they’re still with me, he’s still with me, in a way.” His lips quirk into a sad smile, his hand reaching up to wipe at his eyes again. “And… I’m glad you got to see them.”

Michelle finds herself easily returning his bittersweet expression.

While she’d never had the chance to meet his parents, from the short clips she saw, she could tell that they loved each other and that they truly loved their son. She’d also never properly met Uncle Ben, only seeing him in passing as he’d pick up Peter from middle school, or come to decathlon meets in their Freshman year. It wasn’t much, only snippets of their actual lives, but even the smallest glimpse made her feel closer to Peter, to his family.

It was a feeling she’d treasure for years to come.

Perhaps in a more emotionally stable state, she’d make fun of herself for being so cliche, so dramatic. But at this point, right in this moment, she didn’t care.

Her lips press together into a small, faint smile as she takes his hand in hers again.

“I’m glad I got to see them, too.”

#spideychelleweek2k19 #spideychelle #spideychelle week #petermj #peter parker x michelle jones #peter parker #michelle jones #fic

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nickgerlich · 4 years

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Never Going Back

We’re only two months into the US version of the coronavirus era, but it is only in the last week that things started to get serious. For those who understand simple math and exponents, it was obvious long ago that the growth rate for new cases would stumble along for weeks, until one day the exponents kicked in and growth took off. With that growth and the passage of time came deaths.

As of Tuesday morning 24th March, there have been 46,158 cases and 583 deaths in the US alone, a drop in the bucket compared to 395,744 cases and 17,234 deaths worldwide. But since the graph of US cases is still pointed straight up, it’s only going to get worse before it gets better. Our mortality rate is 1.26%, which is still 12.6X the mortality rate for the common flu. Globally, the mortality rate is 4.35%, no doubt bolstered by nations like Italy and Spain, where death has become a disproportionate reality.

Those who believed the dire predictions are saying “I told you so.” The disbelievers have become noticeably silent, aside from a few who still cling to their conspiracy theories and wishful religious thinking. Thankfully, those people are shrinking in number.

And just one week into what I will call peak pandemic, it is already safe to make this one general assessment: We are never going back. So much has changed in so little time, and all because of an enemy we cannot see, much less even begin to understand. We are isolated in place, frozen aside from the need to go to market or druggist. Travel is restricted in a growing number of states. Sixteen have complete statewide shelter-in-place mandates, while four others have similar such rules but only at the level of specific cities and counties.

Panic buying and shortages are so last week. Now we are stuck at home. Were it not for the internet and Netflix, we might just go crazy. Even my dogs are wondering why the humans are hanging out at home so much. We had all grown a little lax, a little too casual, a little too let’s-take-everything-for-granted. After all, it felt good, and we are social animals. Damn the bacteria and viruses, full steam ahead. Except now it is all painfully apparent that maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all. So now we sit in quiet repose, watching the clock tick and the sun arc across the sky in slow motion.

It’s the end of the world as we knew it.

Presently Rethinking The Future

Once this is all over, whenever that is, I’m sure that many people will be more than happy to hop back on the Same Old, Same Old train. But then again, my hope is that everyone will at least give pause to consider that our response to the current crisis may in fact be the new world order—not that insidious plot some people think of, but a better, safer way of doing old things.

And I know that we cannot all become germophobes, trying to live inside bubbles of our own manufacture, because that would only decrease our immune systems’ abilities in the future to ward off infections. We still need to get out and soak up some bacteria and viruses, if only to increase our chances of living a bit longer. We don’t want our civilization to be wiped out like when Europeans came to the new world.

But there’s no reason we can’t add some order at the same time.

I find myself doing things very differently, starting first about two weeks ago, but ramping up in the last few days. It’s not that I am paranoid. It’s just that I have realized how careless I had become. For example, I now keep gloves in my vehicle so that I can pump my gas and make my payment without any viral or bacterial contact. Of course, I am hoping that the very air I breathe while doing so is not infested with nasty little buggers waiting to take up residence in my airways. I’m doing the best I can, and I cannot find any N95 respirators these days.

The gas pump nozzle is one of the dirtiest things we touch, and we do it at least once a week without thinking. Adding germs to injury is the fact we push all the buttons on the little keyboard as if an attendant had just been by with disinfectant, when we know in fact those things haven’t seen moisture since the last time it rained.

No more! I’m keeping my gloves handy from now on.

Now let’s carry this a little farther. Most of us pay with debit or credit at the store. Once again, buttons to push. Or the ATM. Or the Ziosk tabletop payment system at Chili’s or Red Robin. Heck, what about the menus at those place? All teeming with germs. If…and I mean if…I return to restaurants, I’m using their online menu. At least I keep my phone clean. As for the rest, I can see a lot of gloves in my future.

Which brings me to another thing: self-check at the grocery, DIY store, or wherever. Sure, I know a lot of people have complained in recent months about these things taking jobs away from people, but all of a sudden they are looking pretty good. If you wear gloves, you can do your entire shopping trip without human interaction, assuming you can safely navigate between other shoppers and hold your breath for 30 minutes.

Sure, it’s still quaint to engage in a little chit chat with the cashier from time to time, and self-check does require a human to push a button if you are buying alcohol, but I’m thinking there’s a lot more self-check in my future.

And what about cash? For many years I have hardly used any cash at all, but I can honestly say I have not touched a dollar bill now in at least 10 days. I don’t want the germs that come along for the ride on a fiver or sawbuck, and the same goes for coins, all token carriers of the deadly things hanging out inside of us. I will use plastic wherever I can, and even if I act like a teen, I will use it to pay for a measly $2 cup of coffee. Take that, you creepy little killers! Stay in your cash drawer.

I have started toting a spray container of Spic-and-Span with me, along with those durable blue shop paper towels. I’m spraying and scrubbing everything along my way. I am the father in next year’s My Big Fat Chinese-American Wedding when daughter Becca and Corey get married, making sure everything is safe. When it’s OK to travel again, you can bet I will be disinfecting my hotel room before I ever sit down.

Remember when family vacations included picnics at roadside rest areas? If you are old like me, you have faint memories, but if you are young, you probably have no idea what a picnic is or the ants who came running as soon as you set out everything. Recently on a day in which I had occasion to be behind the wheel, I had to come to grips with the new reality. I did what is now practically unheard of: I packed a cooler with beverages, snacks, and sandwich makings. Not only does this save me money, it’s also a lot healthier. I can control portion sizes, and once again, make no human contact.

This thinking translates into our broader lives. I for one have long loved going out to eat. It’s something my parents instilled in me when I was a child. While we were not rich by any means, Mom set down her foot and declared the kitchen closed on weekends. So we ate out. Many times we would drive up to 80 miles just to go to a favorite of my Mom and Dad’s. Skip forward to the present, and I was easily spending $125 per week on dining, usually at Asian and Progressive American restaurants with spendy and trendy items on their menus. Do the math. If I do not resume those ways, I have effectively given myself a $6000 a year raise.

By buying groceries and eating at home, I have given myself the opportunity to add to my modest cooking repertoire, eat exactly what I want and in which amounts, and save money.   I call that a win. The economy might not think so, as would restaurant owners and waitstaff. But this is a new world, and we have to find a new way to order things. Meanwhile, I have enough non-perishables to get us through a month, if necessary, and as per guidelines for someone in the—ahem—over-60 category.

Speaking of ordering, now that most non-essential shops are closed, how else are we to buy things? Easy. E-commerce is the solution. I am ready to buy an indoor bicycle trainer so I can maintain fitness at home; it will be delivered to my door. I’ve been shopping online for more than 20 years, and I am pretty sure that coronavirus is only going to reinforce those habits. I’m betting you’re in the same boat as me.

Just don’t get too close, you know.

To know me is to know I am a concert junkie. I love music regardless, but live performances are sonic ecstasy to me. I quit counting at 100 how many concerts I have been to. Of course, today there are no concerts to look forward to, at least not on the horizon. I had hoped to go see Bob Dylan in Amarillo this summer, along with Styx in September, but I have my doubts the former will happen, and who knows if we’ll be out of this mess come autumn.

Think about all the humanity at concerts. Even if we are all seated, like so many concerts aimed squarely at Baby Boomers like me, we’re still in proximal relation to dozens of people, if not hundreds and thousands if the air is circulating. Now factor in concerts with no seating, like some Blackberry Smoke shows I have seen in honky tonks, or the Stryper show I took in at the now-defunct Midnight Rodeo in Amarillo. Good grief, I was three feet from the stage, packed in like so many human sardines wasting away the last vestiges of our hearing. Yeah, those were good times, but I wonder how many hitchhiking germs I brought home, and how many I shared.

The same goes for movie theaters and sports arenas. I may never go to a theatre again, although I absolutely love visiting restored vintage venues like the Mulkey in Clarendon Texas. I am certain that no theatre in America takes the time to do more than just sweep up the popcorn and trash. Disinfect the seats? Are you kidding me? Just shut up, sit down, and try to enjoy the show while knowing you are living dangerously. Suddenly everything from concerts to films and sports are sounding a lot better on my 65” TV.

Let’s go a bit farther. While the lure of Las Vegas long ago wore off for me, I still have occasion now and then to be in Sin City only to find myself racing through the casino to reach clean outside air. I don’t gamble, so that’s not a problem, but what about the people who—gasp—touch those machines, deal those cards, and roll those dice? Knock yourselves out, folks. If I find myself in a casino again, I will also be doing my best sprint to get to the other side.

There’s one other thing that won’t change for me, and that’s the likelihood of my going on a cruise. More than 30 years ago, the ex and I had occasion to do a one-day mini cruise in the Gulf of Mexico with my parents, my brother, and his wife. I hate not being in control of my destiny, and knowing that someone else was steering that thing bothered me. Even more, I could see that the purpose of a cruise was really just to stand in line at decadent feeding troughs, then recline on the deck like beached whales. No thanks. Ain’t got time for that.

But in the coronavirus era, we now must consider the plight of a couple of cruise ships recently stuck at sea because suddenly people have realized them for what they really are: giant floating Petri dishes on which thousands of people mingle in tight quarters. Hey, what a great idea. Concerts and sporting events are one thing since they last only a few hours; now imagine spending a week or more with the same sneezing, coughing, dirty-handed fools.

Nope, nope, nope. You can keep your big boats.

And what about the religious and civil ceremonies we all attend at one time or another? Although there are still a small number of churches defying the Rule of 10 for public gatherings, a growing number has decided to perform their masses and services to empty pews, instead relying on technology to make them available to everyone. What an excellent idea! I realize this goes against the grain of many world religions. “Communion” is something to be celebrated together, hence the prefix. But the dirty chalice and shared loaves of bread are throwing caution to the wind. We can commune even if we are not commingling.

A friend I know who is a pastor recently conducted a wedding in the Phoenix area, and the only people in the church were the bride, groom, him, and a couple of witnesses. I even heard of a live-streamed funeral. Yeah. We can do this, and maybe going forward, churches and other places of worship should consider just doing everything online for those who no longer wish to take their chances in public, yet still allow people to congregate as per their choice when the pandemic is over.

I could certainly go on, especially with regard to online courses, but I would be beating the same drum I have for the last 23 years. Suffice it to say that today I feel very justified in all that I have done and promoted in this area, and will double down on my efforts going forward. While there is still a future for courses held in classrooms, we all need to prepare each and every class so that it could be online if we had to. It’s a lot like the emergency preparedness those in hurricane-affected areas already know: police can reverse the flow of traffic on freeways at a moment’s notice to handle people trying to evacuate. We educators need to be able to turn on a dime as well.

There’s more to rethink, of course, and for the vast majority of us who have turned on a dime in the last week, we may very well never return to other things we once did. Think about how suddenly major companies have turned into thousands of people who are working remotely, who connect via Zoom Video and Microsoft Teams when meetings are needed. Do we really need elaborate corporate campuses anymore, paeans to the profits they have enjoyed through the years? And do we really need more meetings, and meetings to schedule more meetings? I think not.

Other professions are finally figuring out that we can leverage technology not just for convenience, but for public safety. Telemedicine is suddenly OK and in fact desirable, but it hasn’t always been this way. Counseling can and should be done electronically as needed or desired, and not face-to-face because that’s how we’ve always done it.

To The Future And Beyond

Where it all goes from here is anybody’s guess. There are many voices in the woods, from Texas Lt. Governor Dan Patrick suggesting that grandparents should take one for the team and be willing to die for the sake of the economy, to Governor Cuomo of New York saying this could go on for another nine months. President Trump is hinting he would like to see us get back up on our feet and be rarin’ to go by Easter, while medical experts say not so fast.

As for me, I know I am never going back. I’m never going back to the way things were. Too much water has gone under this bridge, and even though it has only been a week or so since we all got serious, I have had a lot of time to think.

Maybe Michael Jackson was right all along. Being the gloved one was rather prescient, don’t you think?

Dr “But No Sequins For Me“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #COVID-19 #coronavirus

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hale-of-stiles-heart · 7 years

Text

then somebody bends

This is what happens when I listen to the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack at 3 a.m. while thinking about Sterek (also on ao3!)

When Stiles invited himself over to Derek's loft for quote 'Netflix and chill', Derek had a very clear idea of how the evening was going to play out. But even in his wildest dreams, Derek never would have expected this.

He had expected Stiles to arrive in his usual whirlwind of flannel and sarcasm and blinding grins, greeting him with a smirk and a wink if he was feeling particularly bold. Expected a deep, dirty hello kiss and an appreciative once over as Stiles plopped down on the couch.

Admittedly, Stiles had arrived in his usual fashion, letting himself in without bothering to knock like he owned the place. But there was no flannel or ironic graphic shirt in sight, Stiles instead wearing his red hoodie over a plain gray t-shirt.

He had still greeted Derek with a wide smile but there was no hint of suggestion in it, nothing indicating that he was thinking about doing anything other than simply watching a movie. Even the kiss Stiles gave him as he took a seat on the couch was just a quick peck on the cheek.

But there was no trace of anything disconcerting in Stiles' scent, nothing that would set off any alarm bells. Only excitement and contentedness radiated from Stiles as he efficiently set up his Xbox and pulled up Netflix.

Derek expected Stiles to pick a movie from his preferred genre, an action packed thriller featuring a gratuitous amount of violence and explosions and unnecessary female nudity. Or, if not that, some sort of sci-fi flick with terrible CGI and too bright fake blood and just as much unnecessary nudity.

But with a few taps of the buttons on his Xbox controller and a brief use of the joystick, Stiles navigated to the Disney movie section. With another flick of the joystick and a few more clicks, Stiles queued up the new Beauty and the Beast movie.

He had glanced up at Derek out of the corner of his eye, chewing his bottom lip almost nervously. Setting down the controller on the coffee table, Stiles leaned back on the couch and softly murmured, "You don't mind, do you?"

Derek had just shrugged and shook his head before reaching over to the side table to grab the bowl of buttery popcorn he had made in preparation for Stiles' arrival. While he was at it, he switched off the lamp that rested on the side table, setting the bowl of popcorn in his lap as he turned back to face the TV screen.

For the next two hours and twenty minutes, Stiles watched the movie so intently that he barely spoke, save for a few snarky comments about Gaston overcompensating for something. Other than that, he remained uncharacteristically silent, his legs curled up under him with his arms wrapped around Derek's, which came as yet another surprise.

He was used to a lot more sex on nights like this. He was used to watching the opening fifteen minutes or so of whatever movie they picked before Stiles was climbing into his lap and yanking off his clothes. He was used to having hot and heavy sex right there on the couch or on the floor somewhere between the couch and his downstairs bed because they were too impatient to get much further.

He was used to scorchingly hot kisses with Stiles' burying his fingers in his hair to tug and tease at the black strands. He was used to undressing as fast as possible, fumbling for the bottle of lube he had started keeping in the side table drawer specifically for nights like this.

He expected sweat and panting and air that smelled like sex and popcorn as they held each other after they had both come and were catching their breaths. He expected Stiles to adhere to their usual routine when it came to their nights alone with Netflix, but what he got was Stiles humming along to every song and occasionally munching on some popcorn.

Derek wasn't disappointed exactly, appreciating the changeup in their routine. And it was nice, just sitting watching a movie with his boyfriend.

In fact, he was almost relieved that they weren't having sex, not that he would ever tell Stiles that. Stiles still had some pretty bad problems with insecurity and self-consciousness and while he had certainly come a long way since they had started dating, Derek had no doubt that hearing his boyfriend was relieved that they weren't having sex might be disastrous for Stiles' self-esteem.

Regardless, Derek was perfectly content with just watching the movie, not having to worry about the expectation of sex. It was wonderful. Especially when Stiles started to sing.

For the most part, Stiles just hummed under his breath, so softly that Derek could barely hear him, even with his sensitive hearing. Eventually, by the time Gaston's song rolled around, Stiles was so engrossed in the movie that he seemed to lose any inhibitions concerning his humming, beginning to sing quietly.

He must have seen the movie before, Derek noted, as he already knew the words to additional verses that Derek did not remember being in the original animated movie. That simple fact made Derek raise a brow, wondering just why exactly Stiles picked a movie that he had already watched.

But he was distracted by the sound of Stiles' voice fading as the song ended and the scene changed to show Belle at the castle. Then, he was distracted again when Stiles started singing again, his voice perfectly harmonizing with those of the characters on screen.

Derek tuned out the movie for a moment, just to tilt his head and admire Stiles. He was smiling softly as he bobbed his head side to side and sang along, his face illuminated by the glow of the TV, his moles standing out more than usual.

Derek wanted to kiss him so much that it was a physical ache, his fingertips itching to bury themselves into his short brown hair and guide him into a kiss. He wanted to turn off the movie, or at the very least pause it, so he could pull Stiles into his lap and kiss the living daylights out of him.

He didn't want sex, didn't want anything even remotely close. He just wanted to hold Stiles in his arms and kiss him for the rest of the night.

But considering how fixated Stiles was on the movie, Derek doubted that he would be very happy if he was interrupted for some making out. Compromising, Derek only pressed a quick kiss to Stiles' temple before contenting himself with relaxing back and watching the movie. He had waited years to kiss Stiles for the first time, he was sure that he could wait another hour or so to kiss him for the millionth time.

Content with the fact that he would be able to kiss Stiles as much as he wanted in due time, Derek finally gave the movie his full attention. He found that the movie was actually pretty good, appreciating the set design and the elaborate costumes, though he winced at the sight of Belle's signature dress.

Nonetheless, he continued watching, listening to Stiles as he alternated between humming and singing, occasionally licking his lips. Derek briefly considered running to the kitchen to grab Stiles something to drink but ultimately decided against it, too comfy on the couch with Stiles tucked against his side.

He watched intently as the angry mob stormed the castle, the barrage of action as villagers faced off against candelabras and feather dusters. He hummed in confirmation when Stiles made a comment about Le Fou not being as horrible a person as he was in the original.

By that point, Stiles had laid his head on Derek's shoulder, reminding him of the night so many months ago when they had gone on their first date. Derek had wanted to hold Stiles' hand so much it had killed him not to but it was too soon, too much, too junior high. Fortunately, Stiles had put him out of his misery and slipped his hand into Derek's, resting his cheek on his shoulder and sighing happily. They had spent the rest of the movie like that, barely paying any attention to the movie, too wrapped up in the reassuring act of holding each other's hands.

If Derek remembered correctly, after the movie they had returned to the parking lot where they spent half an hour making out in the Camaro. They probably would have spent the whole night awkwardly leaning over the center console to keep kissing, at the risk of incurring the wrath of the Sheriff who had asked that Stiles be home by eleven thirty. The only reason they hadn't was because a parking lot attendant knocked on the window and explained that they would have to leave.

Now, though, Derek was resolved to spend the entire night kissing Stiles on the couch, maybe carry him over to the bed so they would be more comfortable. But before that, he would be a perfect gentleman and wait until the movie ended.

He watched as Gaston confronted the Beast on the roof, hearing the hitch in Stiles' breath and the soft gasp he let out when Gaston shot the Beast. He watched as Belle cried over her lost love, then the joy that washed over her when he survived, his beastly appearance melting away to reveal a handsome prince. And finally he watched as the servants returned to their own human forms and Belle and Adam danced together.

"So...what'd you think?" Stiles asked as the credits began to roll, turning to look up at Derek through his lashes. He looked a little shy, even nervous, as though he was worried that Derek hadn't liked the movie.

Derek twisted his neck so he could kiss the tip of Stiles' upturned nose before answering, smiling to himself at the way Stiles scrunched up his nose. Pulling his arm out of Stiles' grip, he wrapped it around Stiles' shoulders, squeezing tightly as he answered, "It was pretty good. You've seen it before, haven't you?"

Stiles dipped his chin, looking back at the TV screen that was covered in the names of the cast and crew. Eyes unwavering from the barrage of names, he softly admitted, "When I was little it was my favorite Disney movie. My mom used to watch it with me all the time."

He paused, a warm smile stretching across his face. "She used to joke that she and dad were like Belle and Adam. Y'know, free-spirited artist and by-the-book sheriff."

Tilting his head back up, he met Derek's eyes again. Still smiling, he explained, "I dragged my dad to see the new one opening day. I would've invited you too, but they only had two seats left... Not that I, like, picked my dad over you! I just—"

Derek held up his free hand to stop Stiles before he ended up going on some sort of self-flagellating rant punctuated by needless apologies and puppy dog eyes. Tightening his arm around Stiles, Derek grinned down at him reassuringly, murmuring, "I get it, babe."

Stiles let out a relieved sigh, sagging against Derek as though all the tension in his body had been leeched out by Derek's words. He rubbed his cheek against Derek's chest through his Henley, throwing an arm around his waist.

"Did you always want a love story like Belle and Adam's?" Derek inquired, shifting his hand to run his fingers through Stiles' messy hair. He felt Stiles nod against his chest, smiling as he teased, "And who'd you want to be your Belle?"

"Umm... Actually... I always wanted to be Belle," Stiles confessed, the way he stammered over his words, clearly embarrassed, tugging at Derek's heartstrings. He could just imagine the bright red blush that was most definitely coloring Stiles' cheeks in blotchy spots.

"Yeah?" Derek asked quietly, moving his free hand to cup Stiles' face in his palm, lifting his chin so he could look into his big brown eyes. He lost his train of thought for a moment, captivated by the whiskey and amber shadows in Stiles' eyes as they simply stared at each other.

Brushing his thumb over a line of moles on Stiles' flushed cheek, he remembered what he was going to say. He leaned in close, their lips brushing as he announced, "I think you make an amazing Belle."

With that, he pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss, ignoring the uncomfortable way he had to bend in order to kiss Stiles. It was remedied soon enough, Stiles scrambling into a more comfortable position, lying back on the couch and tugging Derek on top of him.

Derek was more than willing, bracing himself over Stiles as he deepened the kiss, teasing at Stiles' tongue with his own. Feeling a bit more adventurous, he nipped at Stiles' bottom lip, thinking that if Stiles was Belle, he had certainly found his Beast.

#sterek #i don't know why i wrote this #established relationship #cuddling #kissing #disney movies #beauty and the beast #fluff #so much fluff #i tried

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pyropsychiccollector · 7 years

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Drabble Request: Irene invites Anna and Ur over who in turn bring their kids Natsu & Lucy, and Gray, respectively. While watching the kids play with the girls "getting along" with the boys, they lament the difficulties in finding a good man. Soon after the doorbell rings with delivery for the kids...It's Ichiya from Blue Pegasus Pizza...✧･ﾟ: *✧･ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“NATSU!”Erza barked, stomping over to the kitchen. “It’s been well over 5 minutes!Where’s my ca…ke.”

Erza’s eyesmomentarily widened before they narrowed dangerously at the two sittingcasually at the kitchen table.

“I see…This Siren captured you unawares.” The redhead growled out.

Ultearrolled her eyes as she continued to enjoy her ice cream. Natsu had frozen witha spoonful of ice cream raised to his mouth.

“I-It’s notwhat it looks like…!” Natsu wailed.

“Yes it is.”Ultear easily countered him. “Red’s been running you ragged all morning withher bratty demands, and I gave you a break~.”

Natsutwitched as his eyes shifted between Erza and Ultear, not really sure whetherto feel scared or ‘safe’, since Ultear was here with him.

… So hedecided to feel Scafe. ‘Cause these two were about the same age, and equally astough.

“Who saidyou could give my Butler time to slack off?” Erza gave Ultear the evil eye. Ultearcontinued to be unimpressed.

“Last timeI checked, wasn’t he your ‘Dragon’?”

“Yes, he’smy Dragon Butler! Because I conquered him last time, so his life is mine to own.”Erza huffed, crossing her arms. “And good Dragon Butlers get me strawberry cheesecakein a timely manner!”

“DragonButler? More like Dragon Slave.” Natsu groused. Seeing the tick mark appear onErza’s forehead, he held up his hands placatingly. “I mean…!”

“No, no,you’re absolutely right, Natsu-kun~. No decent ‘Master’ would use a Dragon as afootrest. Certainly not for an hour straight while she read a book. Tell Redwhat you really feel~.” Ultear cooed. Natsu opened and closed his mouth torefute what she said, if only to placate Erza… But… the words just wouldn’tcome out.

“Stopdeceiving him, you Witch…!” Erza ground out. Ultear smirked at that one.

“Hmhm. Idon’t really care for your games of Pretend, but I’m fine with that one~. Icould turn you into a toad before you even got close to me with your toysword~.” The dark-haired girl taunted. “Besides, I’m not really deceiving him –I really do enjoy Natsu-kun’s company.”

With astormy expression, Erza got up into her face.

“ThisKnight can kick your butt before you can even cast a spell…!” Ultear got intoher face just as much with a dark smirk twitching her lips.

“Oh, likeall Witches are miserable at hand-to-hand. But I’m more than happy to show youup yet again, if you’re that eager~.”

“Witch…!”

“Flat-chesteddullard~.”

“WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!”

“Did Istutter?”

Yes, evenas they were mere preteens, Ultear and Erza were already paying attention to… those assets. But could you blame them,given who their mothers were? Didn’t help that said mothers were encouraging such behavior in their kids.

Natsusweatdropped as a dust cloud was kicked up from the two brawling in Erza’s mom’skitchen. There was no way in hell he was going to try breaking them up – that wassuicide. The safest thing to do was find a way to navigate out of the kitchenwithout them noticing… Always a tricky thing, because their brawls werespontaneous, and never stayed in onearea for too long.

While Natsuwas in this harrowing predicament, there were four other kids sitting and lyingdown in the living room, playing a nice game of Smash Bros.

“Mou… Thosetwo, must they always be so troublesome?” A green-haired girl blew a strand outof her face as she lazily punched the buttons on the controllers. Just becauseBlondie forced her into this didn’t mean she had to put actual effort in.

“Um,because they’re Erza and Ultear, and that’s how they’ve always been?” Lucysweatdropped as the house itself shook briefly from the roughhousing. Allthings considered, she wasn’t doing so bad for herself in the game; Gray andLyon were competing for First, while she was in a semi-distant Second.

“… But dothey have to be troublesome?”Brandish deadpanned.

Lucy wasabout to answer, but was cut off by Lyon.

“Y-You fool…!If you keep this up, we shall both fall to our doom…!” The white-haired boyhissed as Gray’s avatar came swinging at his, pushing them both closer andcloser to the edge.

“You’rejust scared that I’m gonna…!” Gray cut himself off as another avatar swung abat, KOing both him and Lyon, and then quickly doing the same to Lucy’s, whohad the misfortune of jumping down at the wrong time.

“… Oops. Iguess that’s the Home Run Bat. Or whatever you call it.” Brandish deadpanned. Theother three players groaned as Brandish continued to hand them their asses forthe duration she had that bat, and subsequently stole First Place in theeleventh hour of the match. “I win~.”

The otherplayers hung their heads in shame.

“You weren’teven trying…!” Lucy whined as shecame in Last. Seriously. Half the time they played, Brandish had this absurdluck with the items, it wasn’t even funny.

Not toosurprisingly, Gray hammered the ‘Yes’ for a Rematch, but they paused as a groupas a random rubber chicken came flying out of the kitchen from thestill-squabbling older girls. Random items were par for the course for thosebrawls, so the kids’ eyes eventually panned back to the screen.

“Don’t youthink we should help Natsu get out of there?” Lucy sweatdropped. Gray scoffed.

“If youwanna stick your neck in there, be my guest.”

“We’llprepare the ice packs and first-aid kits when you do.” Lyon solemnly added.Lucy moaned.

“So you’dhelp patch me up, but you wouldn’t help break them up?” Tears cascaded down hereyes at the mere thought of trying to get between the older girls. “You’d helpme, right, Brandish?”

“… I’d pokeyou to make sure you’re still alive.” Brandish dryly quipped.

“That does not help!” Lucy grumbled.

“I know,but it would be fun~.”

Outside onthe patio, three women were casually sipping tea, listening to their children ‘play’.It was really quite delightful how they got along so well~.

“Grammihafta leave town on a business trip for the weekend?” Ur grinned wryly. Laylareturned that expression easily enough.

“Ultear andLyon get banned from another soccer practice?”

The blondeand the dark-haired woman chuckled.

“… Kids.”

Irenecoughed to grab their attention.

“Yes, well,at least these kids of ours have boys they can eventually fawn over~. Our morepressing concern is finding men of our own.”

At thatmoment, the doorbell rang, signaling that the pizzas for lunch were now here.Irene almost cowed the other two into a game of Jan-ken-pon to see who wouldget the door and pay the man, but it was pointed out that it was Irene’s house,and Irene’s idea for a playdate, so she would have to do the ‘labor’.

She verymuch wished she had ordered takeout from anywhere else.

“Yourpizzas have arrived, my honey~! Meeen~”The delivery man, with his short chubby body, struck a dramatic pose, somehowkeeping the pizza boxes balanced on one hand.

It took allof Irene’s willpower not to slam the door in his face. Not this bastard again…!

“I’m gonnabe sick…” Ur groaned, the longer she looked at the delivery man, whose nametagdeclared him to be ‘Ichiya’.

“Hmm… Hedoesn’t look so bad…” Anna tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Dare I say he looks handsome.”

Irene andUr stared back at her like she’d sprouted a second head. In the interest ofpreserving their sanity, Irene paid the man, took the pizzas, and Ur slammedthe door to prevent any more interaction with the delivery man.

They wouldspend the next several weeks suppressing the memory… Well, Irene and Ur would.They valiantly ignored their blonde friend’s *cough* interest in a certain pizza company that they had no knowledge of, whatsoever. Nope.

~*~

Note: ... It was a bit weird to have Anna be Lucy's 'caretaker', too. Buuut, this whole AU is fairly weird, so I ran with it...... Threw Ultear, Lyon, and Brandish in there as well~. ^___^

.... For my own sanity, I didn't involve Ichiya too much... because of certain envelope-pushing with Ichlu in our threads. ***Repressing those memories now... Repreeess...***

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riteandwread · 7 years

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Foxes On A Boat (Alternatively: I Hate This Title But Can’t Think Of Anything Else To Name It)

Something dumb I started writing when I was bored the other day, not entirely sure how often I’ll update it aside from when the inspiration strikes but it boils down to Neil, Andrew, and the rest of the Foxes going on a cruise simply because I thought the idea of Andrew stuck on a boat with everyone was fucking hilarious and also Andrew has a private Instagram account that only Neil is allowed to follow because reasons (that’s the entire plot so far and chapter 2 is basically just porn oops) ao3

One

Chasing The Sun

“Somebody get these mother fucking Foxes on a mother fucking boat!” Allison cheered from her seat across from Neil as she gleefully hit the confirm button on the cruise line's website.

“How much do I owe you?” Neil asked, letting out a soft whimper as the reality of the moment set in. There was no doubt in his mind that one Allison Reynolds chose to spare no expense for this trip being that it was hers and the other upperclassmen's final spring break together.

“You're paying for you, the monster, Nicky, and Erik?” Allison confirmed.

“Me, Andrew, Nicky, and Erik.” Neil stressed the second name.

Allison only let out a small huff of air, blowing it upwards so it jostled her bangs, “Alright, so for four people leaving from Tampa and sailing to Cozumel for five nights wth ocean view rooms comes out to $404 per person, before tax and fees, which brings your grand total after those are added to...$1,956”

Neil felt all the air leave his body as he tumbled off the couch and to the floor, “Jesus fucking Christ, Allison.”

“Get off the floor, sweetie, you're being over dramatic.” Allison shook her head, “I told you this was going to be expensive when we came up with the idea!”

“I didn't know it was going to be this expensive though!” Neil protested.

“You could have done the research!” Allison laughed, “Or better yet, used your previous knowledge of me and my spending habits to make an informed decision.”

“Whatever, just take it,” Neil huffed, thrusting his credit card in Allison's face.

“I already put it all on mine, you can shower me in cash later.” Allison smiled as she snapped her laptop closed.

Neil pushed aside the looming loss of money and tried to focus on the more positive aspects of the trip and being able to spend a week in the middle of the Caribbean with his Foxes and Andrew was almost enough to quiet the screaming voice of his mother in the back of his brain. Almost.

“Anyway,” Allison sang, snapping him back to reality, “I just put everyone's ticket on my card so they can pay me back whenever. I'm covering Renee, Dan and Matt are splitting it, Kevin already gave me his share, and Aaron refused to let me pay for his and Katelyn's so he's dealing with both of theirs on his own.”

“Sounds like we're good to go then.” Neil smiled.

“Yep!” Allison chirped, “By the way, I also spent $500 to upgrade you and Andrew to a suite, my treat.”

“What?” Neil coughed, “Why would you do that?”

“Cruise ship rooms are small, I was afraid you and Andrew would kill each other in such close proximity.” Allison joked.

“Not funny.” Neil sighed, flicking her on the knee.

Allison rolled her eyes and stood from the couch, returning Neil's flick with one of her own on his forehead, “I wanted to do something nice for you, dumb fuck.”

“I can tell.” Neil laughed.

“You're supposed to say 'Thank you, Allison, I love you.'”

“Thank you, Allison, I love you.”

"You're welcome!" Allison grinned, "This trip is going to do wonders for your Instagram too. I'm fucking tired of seeing Exy memes every time I scroll down my feed."

Neil rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone which Allison promptly snatched from his hand. She pulled him over to her side and held his phone out in front of them, "Smile."

Neil didn't have time to react before he heard the clicking of the camera on his phone and Allison held him at arms length as she opened up his Instagram and posted their picture to his profile. Neil snatched the phone back from her and turned it around to find a picture of him and Allison, his face mid blink and her face looking professionally airbrushed as always, with the caption I love @allisonreynolds more than Exy.

"Not true." Neil mumbled as he looked down at his phone and saw it ping with a notification.

"Jesus, Andrew liked the picture already?" Allison laughed, "Is that his version of peeing on you like a fire hydrant or something?"

Neil only smiled as the notifications rolled in from various other foxes and dozens of strangers that he still couldn't really understand why they followed him.

"This is so annoying!" Allison huffed and glared at Neil.

"What now?" Neil asked

"Andrew's profile!" Allison gritted out, "Why does he even have one if it's locked and he only follows and is followed by one person. It says he has 150 fucking posts, what the fuck does he actually post pictures of?"

Neil bit back another laugh as he navigated to Andrew's page. Allison was right, he only did follow one person, Neil. And he only allowed one person to follow him, Neil. "I'm looking at it right now, there's plenty of stuff here."

Allison jumped up from the couch to circle behind him but he was too quick for her, he locked the phone and stuffed it deep into his pocket before she could get a glimpse of Andrew's private profile. The contents of the profile were a secret he wanted to keep for as long as he possibly could and he was in no rush to help Allison settle the long standing bet about what Andrew actually posted pictures of.

"I will find out before this trip is over!" Allison warned.

"Whatever you say." Neil laughed.

Allison pranced to the door, confident in her looming victory, and swung it open with a resounding thump and Neil resigned himself to following her down the hallway as she banged on every single door. He bit back a smile as Fox after Fox ambled out from their rooms and stood in a line along the hallway. Neil counted them off one by one. Renee, Dan, Matt, Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin. The door to the elevator opened just in time to reveal Andrew who's face morphed into a scowl as Allison pointed a finger at him to get into line.

“Listen up, Foxes!” Allison yelled, pacing back and forth down the line with her hands behind her back like a boot camp sergeant, “The tickets are locked in, on Monday morning we fly out to Florida to board the Royalty of the Seas for five days of debauchery and foolishness with a final destination of Cozumel. Pack your shit accordingly. Condoms, passports, et cetera. I am not going to be standing around the port with my dick in my hand because you forgot to bring anything you need.”

Neil shook his head as he fell into place in line next to Andrew. He turned and gave him a small smile out of the corner of his mouth and was met with a low grunt and an elbow to his ribs. He liked it.

“No one, and I repeat no one,” Allison paused and let her eyes scan the line of Foxes, “is going to mess up my last spring break as a college student.”

“Why don't we get to come?” A junior Fox stuck his head out of the bedroom to ask.

Allison spun on her heal and hissed, “Because you're not invited!”

Neil cringed at the boys reaction as he retreated into his room with the slam of a door. He figured he should probably care, being vice-captain and all, but it was becoming harder and harder every day to give a fuck about anyone on the team who wasn't a part of his family.

“Nicky, Thing Two, you're responsible for getting your significant others to the designated place on time. I will leave you behind.” Allison smiled.

“Fuck this.” Aaron spat, shouldering his way past Allison and stomping down to the hallway towards the door to his room, pushing it open and slamming it behind him with a loud bang.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Allison scoffed.

Renee broke from the line and walked to Allison, resting a hand on the shoulder that Aaron had pushed, and whispered something in her ear.

No one seemed to know what Aaron's problem was and Neil really didn't care. It was hard to drum up any kind of sympathy for Aaron, even on a good day. Though he had a feeling that whatever was going on was coming dangerously close to ruining the trip.

Eventually Nicky spoke, “Aaron told me not to say anything...”

“When has that ever stopped you?” Kevin rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Nicky chewed on his bottom lip, “Aaron just got off the phone with Katelyn and she had to refund her ticket. Her mom got into an accident and had been out of work for a few weeks and she said she would rather send the money from her ticket back home to help them out rather than go on a cruise. They got into a fight because Aaron was going to refund his ticket and stay with her but she wanted him to go, she said it would be good for him to spend time with his friends for one last spring break.”

“Friends?” Neil muttered under his breath.

Neil heard an odd sound come from Andrew's direction that he would almost call a laugh if he didn't know better.

“Great.” Allison groaned, “Now we have to spend a week on a floating prison with a moody midget who hates the world.”

Neil cringed at the thought. He could already see Aaron following everyone around on the boat, drinking and making their lives hell because he was pissed off that his girlfriend wasn't there. More specifically, he could see Aaron making his trip a living hell, taking any chance available to antagonize Neil about his relationship with Andrew. He wasn't going to let the trip be ruined like that, he was fucking determined to make this a week of good memories and minimal bloodshed, and there was only one way to do it.

“Allison,” Neil sighed, “can you add another ticket to our package?”

“What?” The entire line of Foxes, Andrew included, said in unison.

“Can you or can't you?” Neil asked, looking directly at Allison.

“I'd have to call and probably yell at the poor son of a bitch who gets stuck with my call, but yeah. Why?” Allison raised an eyebrow.

“Add another one then, I'll pay for it.” Neil shrugged.

Again, a Fox wide gasp rolled through the hallway.

“Neil...” Matt trailed off, “are you doing something nice for Aaron?”

No.” Neil clarified, “I'm doing something nice for us all. I'm not going to let a week of Aaron sulking around ruin our trip. Add the ticket, I don't care how much it costs.”

“Idiot.” Andrew mumbled net to him.

Neil ignored him and made his way down the hallway to Aaron and Matt's suite, letting himself in and walking across the small living room towards the bedroom, he rapped on the door with his fist a few times and the door swung up to reveal a furious Aaron.

“What the fuck do you want?” Aaron spat.

“Call Katelyn and tell her that she better be at the airport first thing Monday morning.” Neil said, his face flat and devoid of any emotion.

“Excuse me?” Aaron took a step forward, pushing Neil backwards towards the couch.

“Nicky can't keep his big mouth shut. Allison is adding another ticket and I'm paying for it. Your girlfriend is coming with us and that's the end of the discussion.” Neil stepped to the side of Aaron and turned to make his way to the door but was held into place by Aaron's hand on the back of his shirt.

“I don't want your fucking charity.” Aaron said under his breath.

Neil looked up to the door of the suite and saw the eyes of nearly ever single Fox on them. He turned on his heel and batted Aaron's hand off his shoulder, grabbing the other twin by the wrist and pulling him further away from the ears of the Foxes.

“It's not charity, you asshole.” Neil said in a hushed whisper, “This is my last spring break with everyone in the same place and I'm not going to let you and your fucking attitude ruin it. Either call her and tell her that she's coming or don't you dare think about showing up because I won't stop your brother when he inevitably tries to throw you overboard.”

“This changes nothing.” Aaron growled, ripping his arm from Neil's hold and shoving his hand into his pocket to fish out his cell phone.

Neil only heard the begging of Aaron's conversation with his girlfriend before the door to his room slammed shut but the lighter tone of his voice and the small smile that betrayed furious eyes was not lost on him.

Neil ignored the rest of the team as he moved past them and back into the hallway, only concentrating on Andrew who had latched onto his wrist and was pulling him towards the stairs to the roof. They made their way to the top of the tower and sat side by side on the edge of the building and watched as the sun slowly sank into the earth. Neither of them spoke but the lingering touch of Andrew's hand on his when he handed over a lit cigarette spoke volumes.

Neil was content in the quiet air for as long as it lasted, which was until his phone buzzed at his side with a text from Allison.

Additional late fee. Extra ticket was $100 more. Heart emoji. Knife emoji.

Neil let out another pained groan and let his head fall to Andrew's shoulder. He waited a moment to see if he would be pushed off, either to the side or over the edge, and smiled a little when he was allowed to stay.

“Idiot.” Andrew mumbled as he ground out the end of his cigarette and tossed it over the side of the building.

Neil closed his eyes and imagined walking down a white sandy beach with his fingers interlaced in Andrews. He imagined Andrew in a pair of board shorts, the sun filtering down from the sky and shining around his fair hair like a halo. He imagined sitting on the balcony of their room together in silence, smoking and listening to the sound of waves crashing against the side of the enormous boat.

“Worth it.”

#All For The Game #Andrew Minyard #Neil Josten #andreil #andreil fanfic #The Foxhole Court #TFC #Allison Reynolds #I love Allison so I always write her into everything lol #Aaron Minyard #Nicky Hemmick #All For The Game Series

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si1ent0ne · 6 years

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The first car that I can think of that ran on something other than JUST gas was the Toyota Prius. The introduction of the Prius was pretty major for the simple fact that it was the first mass produced Hybrid vehicle produced worldwide in 2000. It had a funky shape and at that time, it didn’t really catch my eye because I was fine with my Hyundai Elantra. Also, I didn’t really dig the design.

Fast forward almost 20 years since the Prius’ first introduction in Japan, in 1997, there are a lot more options for not only hybrid vehicles, but also electric vehicles. Almost every car manufacturer out there has at least 1 electric vehicle on their production belt. From BMW to Hyundai, the industry understands that this is the future of mobility.

After attending a few sessions on e-mobility, I got my hands on the all electric Hyundai Ioniq for a whole week. About the size of a Hyundai Elantra, this sporty blue car came fully loaded and fully charged!

My husband took a look at the car and shook his head. He was trying to figure out how I was going to fit all 5 feet 9 inches of me in this compact car. Since it only seats 5, our entire family couldn’t ride around. So, the kids and I took it out and about all 7 days. I drove to work and to run errands. I ran to get the kids from practice and took it to church. I did as much as I could……..when I had a charge.

See, you have to remember that this car requires it’s battery to be charged in order to do these things. And that gave me a bit of pause. The first day, I made sure to only go to work and back. I wanted to see how the battery life not only handled the distance to my office, but also how my speedy tendencies affected the battery life. On a full charge, the battery can last between 118 and 125 miles. This may seem like a lot on the surface, but as a mom with 4 kids and tons to do, those 125 miles get drained pretty fast. So I made sure to always start off with a full charge, and make sure I didn’t go too far from the house.

There are public charging stations in the area around me, which was reassuring, BUT they are not all fast charging stations and they aren’t as plentiful as you’d think. I decided to take the car about 30 miles from my house for the Wrinkle In Time movie premiere. I checked the route and saw that the parking garage where the movie theater was had a charging station. This parking garage had over 700 parking spots, but only 2 EV charging stations. And they weren’t fast charging stations. At home it would take about 16 hours to go from empty to a full charge using a 120V outlet. That was using my standard plug in the garage. (To be fair, my electricity is a little funky and the wattage needed may have been a little lower). The public stations like the one in the parking garage take about 4 hours using a standard 240V outlet. I was OK with that because I was going to see a movie. I drove up to the stations and there was a Chevy Volt in one spot charging and a Tesla Model 3 just sitting there. The Tesla was not charging. My eyes bugged out of my head. So I quickly left the garage and used the navigation in the Hyundai to find alternate charging stations. The closest one was actually in an apartment garage, so that was out and the other one was almost a mile away. Neither were fast charging (which charge to 80% full battery use in only 23 minutes) and I wasn’t going to leave my car at a gas station and walk at night to the theater. So I parked in a regular spot back at the garage, and prayed the spot would open up when I left the theater….at 9:30pm.

To my luck, both spots were vacant and I was able to park and charge my car. I used the key tag that comes with the Ioniq to pay for the charging and sat in my car…in the cold. I was miserable. I sat for around 30 minutes and still barely had enough charge to go home. All of the fast charging stations were out of the way and I was scared they wouldn’t be available. And to top it off, it began to snow….hard!

So, nervously, I unplugged the car and drove very slowly down the highway. I talked to my husband the whole way home. I needed him to know where to get me in case I didn’t make it all the way home. Oh and did I mention that using the heat reduces the miles per charge? So I fluctuated between warm and cold as I coasted home.

Maker:S,Date:2017-10-16,Ver:6,Lens:Kan03,Act:Lar02,E-Y

But I made it! With 9 miles to spare and the car actually performed beautifully in the snow.

Highlights of my time with the Ioniq:

I heard the joke “Uh Oh, it’s raining….are you going to get electrocuted in the car?” about 500 times. It was only funny the first time.

Because there isn’t an engine, it’s hard to tell when the car is on or off. I let my mother in law sit inside one day and she wanted to turn it on. She proceeded to press the button repeatedly because she thought there would be a more prominent engine noise. And once I yelled that it was already on, she went for what she thought was the shift gear to put it in reverse. It was the window washer lever, and soaked me with window washing fluid. I yelled again for her to stop. It’s something I wish I had on camera.

The car has a LOT of get up. So much so, that a lot of other cars were shocked at how fast I zipped past them once I merged on to the interstate. It was satisfying!

I’m pretty standard when it comes to vehicle color. The Ioniq was a bright electric blue! I absolutely loved it.

While I didn’t mind driving the car in the snow, I noticed that since there wasn’t an engine to warm the hood and nose of the car while driving, snow and ice accumulated on the Ioniq. It got so bad that the front crash sensors were blocked and a message appeared on the dash that they were not functioning.

I really enjoyed my time with the vehicle. The kids complained about leg room in the back, but I was quite comfortable in the front. While the electric version is currently only available for sale in California, the hybrid is available nationwide. It’s a great car, and I now have a new found appreciation for EVs.

If I were to ever take the plunge and buy one, I’d definitely need to find one that could fit a family of 5 to 6 and has a longer range on a charge. I have too many variables in my life to be unsure if my car is going to make it.

Check out the Hyundai website for more info on the Ioniq.

Maker:S,Date:2017-10-16,Ver:6,Lens:Kan03,Act:Lar02,E-Y

If you turn an electric car on, does it make a sound? The first car that I can think of that ran on something other than JUST gas was the Toyota Prius.

#cars #electric #family #hyundai #ioniq

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