Bellarke + “A kiss in exchange for every nice thing you say about me. Deal?” and “No, I’m serious. Stop it right now or I won’t give you the last cookie.”
A/N: This is for the 2nd prompt! :)
There are times when being a parent is great.
Your child’s first word, first steps. When they grab your finger in their tiny hand and smile at you for absolutely no reason. These are just a few of the amazing things that you get to experience as a parent.
But sometimes, it fucking sucks.
Like today, when she’s almost running late for work and her son would rather slam two toy trucks together than get his shoes on.
“Tucker, can you please help me get your shoes on?” she coos at her three year old, who’s currently sitting on the floor of her bedroom surrounded by toys.
Clarke closes her eyes, trying like hell not to lose her cool, but it’s his first day at his new daycare and they should have been there twenty minutes ago.
Instead of attempting to put the kid’s shoes on for the fifth time she starts to tickle him, surprise attack style, and picks him up, tucking his shoes into her purse and carrying him out the door.
“Mama, no!” Tucker squirms, trying to get out of her arms, and she rolls her eyes.
“I’m much bigger than you buddy,” she says with a laugh as she straps him into his car seat. Once he’s all ready to go she’s able to just slip his shoes on.
Why in the hell didn’t I just do this to begin with?
“Because mommy’s a dumb dumb,” she answers to herself out loud and Tucker squeals with laughter.
“Dumb dumb! Mommy’s a dumb dumb!”
“Jesus Chr…Christmas! Jesus was born on Christmas, Tuck. That’s what I was going to say. Let’s go to school!”
Ten minutes later she’s pulling her SUV into the parking lot of Tiny Tots Daycare, rolling her eyes at the cliche name but it comes highly rated from some of the moms from a Facebook group she joined when she moved to town. They all say that Ms. Blake is a great teacher/daycare worker and that it’s more like pre-preschool than a traditional daycare.
“Okay, bud.” Clarke gets him out of his car seat and grabs his little Stormtrooper backpack, throwing it over her shoulder as she makes her way into the brick building.
There’s a receptionist at the front desk who directs her to the “Sunshine Room” also known as the third door on the left so she run-walks down the hallway because she’s so late at this point it’s embarrassing.
She skids to a stop in front of the open door and is about to introduce herself when she sees a tall, very handsome man, kneeling on the floor and going head to head with a five year old.
“Preston, you have to share that toy with Olivia, I have told you this three times now.”
The little boy, Preston, shakes his head and Clarke watches in amusement as his little ginger curls go in every direction. “I don’t want to! I had it first, can’t I just keep it and make Livi get her own toy?”
The man looks at him sternly.
“No, I’m serious. Stop it right now or I won’t give you the last cookie.”
Preston sits up straight. “Cookies? We have cookies?”
The man shrugs. “We might. But you’ll never know if you don’t stop being selfish.”
Clarke snickers at his tactic but hey, kids are assholes and sometimes you have to do what you have to do.
She must laugh a little too loudly because the man looks over at her, his warm brown eyes taking in her frazzled appearance and the child currently dangling off her arm like he’s part Chimpanzee.
“Sorry,” she says as she steps in the room. “I think I must be in the wrong place. I’m looking for Ms. Blake’s class?”
“You’re in the right place, she’s out for the day. I’m Bellamy Blake.” He stands up and walks over to her and Tucker and she swears she’s only slightly disappointed that he’s married. But when she looks down at his hand he’s not wearing a wedding band and there’s no tan line. Maybe he’s one of those guys that just doesn’t like jewelry.
“So your wife is the teacher?”
His eyes narrow a little and then he bursts into laughter. “My wife? No, no she’s my little sister. I’m a teacher over at the high school but we’re on summer break and she’s at a doctor’s appointment.” Clarke’s eyes widen and he holds up his hand. “I’m just full of misdirection, I’m sorry. She’s seven months pregnant.”
“Oh! Okay,” she laughs. “I’m Clarke Griffin, and this is Tucker. He’s a handful.”
Bellamy laughs and takes the backpack from her shoulder. “Hey, Star Wars!” He kneels down to Tucker’s level, which she loves. “You like Stormtroopers, Tuck?”
Oh god, she loves that even more. What is it about good looking guys that are great with kids?
Tucker nods but stays silent, holding onto her hand tighter than before and she really hopes that she can get out of here before she’s a million hours late and her boss fires her.
“He‘s not usually this shy,” she says as she bends down. “Hey, love. I have to go to work. Are you going to be okay with Mr. Blake while I’m gone?” She looks over at Bellamy, noticing for the first time that they are both kneeling and their faces are awfully close to each other.
“It’s just Bellamy,” he says softly, more to her than to Tucker and she smiles. He gives her a little grin back but she can see the moment when he registers where they are because he clears his throat and faces her son. “Want to go find something to play with? We’re doing crafts soon.”
Tucker’s eyes brighten at the word crafts, her son is a wiz with a crayon thank you very much, and he runs to a group of kids playing with a big bin of dinosaurs.
“He’s going to fit right in,” Bellamy chuckles. He goes to stand up so she does too. “Pick up is at five, I’m not sure if they told you everything before.”
“They did,” she says. “And I”ll be here at five sharp to pick him up. Thanks again, Bellamy. See you this afternoon.”
She’s almost out the door when he calls her name. When she turns around he’s giving her this gorgeous little smirk that makes her heart speed up.
“Maybe you should come at 5:05. Give the other parents time to pick their kids up.”
And give us time alone is left unspoken but understood so she nods, even though she’s positive that she’s blushing.
“I can be here at 5:05,” she says. “See you then.”
She spends all day at work (and she didn’t get fired so go her) thinking about Bellamy. By the time four rolls around she’s ready to get the hell out of here and make tracks for Tiny Tots.
An hour later she’s in the parking lot, watching other parents hurry in and out of the building, eager to get home and make dinner or watch sitcoms. Whatever the hell normal families do on a weeknight.
Five minutes later she’s walking through the door of the Sunshine Room and she grins when she sees Bellamy and Tucker sitting at a table shaped like a flower, putting together a Sesame Street puzzle.
Tucker looks up at the sound of her voice and grins his toothy little smile and that right there is a moment that makes parenthood worth it.
It doesn’t hurt that Bellamy gives her a grin to match, a pair of wire rimmed glasses now sitting on his nose, slightly askew.
“So I was going to ask you for coffee,” he says immediately as he gets up and she appreciates the honesty. It’s refreshing that he’s interested in her and doesn’t mind saying it because frankly, the feeling is mutual. “But then I remembered this little guy so what would you say to the McDonald’s play place? Unless you’re one of those vegan, organic moms? Then…I don’t know, somewhere else?”
Clarke laughs out loud, titling her head back and everything. “Definitely not that vegan organic mom. McDonald’s is great. And they have coffee,” she says with a wink and Bellamy nods.
“They do,” he agrees and he grabs Tucker’s backpack off the table and puts it over his shoulder. “After you.”
Tucker claps his hands and chants “Mickey D’s, Mickey D’s!” all the way to the restaurant and Clarke can’t help but smile when she looks in the rear view and sees Bellamy’s Camaro driving behind her.
Today didn’t end up at all how she thought it would but she can’t complain and she doesn’t want to.
“Great just my luck,” Danny mumbled to himself as he fumbled with the brush in his hands. He look soberly into the mirror brushing his thick crow black bed head until it was baby smooth. He was in a foul mood tonight. He had spent all day Friday and Saturday fighting ghost non stop with out a wink of sleep.
AND NOW HE HAD TO GO TO THE NEON NIGHT FOOTBALL PROM!!! He was too exhausted for this crap. Normally Danny would have skipped the stupid “prom,” to sleep in all day, but his buddy Tucker had begged him to go so he would, and I quote ‘Not look like a total looser, dude!’.
Why did Tucker even want to go to the prom? Honestly it wasn’t even a prom it was a football celebration disguised as a prom for Casper High’s 10th win in a row. Also he apparently had to wear all neon. How doe’s neon even fit into football!? Who cares like it would even matter… sigh…
“Just go in, then get out, laugh at how dumb everything is, and go hit some video games at the arcade… then,” He paused looking in the mirror as he adjusting his neon green tie with a smile “ you can get some sweet, sweet beauty sleep.”
Looking himself over he was satisfied with his look, he had a plain white short sleeve button up t-shirt, a pair of ripped genes, orange neon nikes, and to tie it all together… hehehe… a green neon tie.
As soon as he was done he heard the Fenton doorbell ring. Yes,
“Fenton doorbell” His dad though it would be a cool idea if they put I giant button on there front porch with the bold letters “Fenton” on it.
Rushing he opened the door To tucker, Who shined Danny a playful smile.
“ Hey dude, are you ready to mix and mingle!!” Tucker exclaimed bouncily, giving a twirl, “ So, what do you think of my outfit?”
“ It makes you look like a Lady killer,” Danny grinned
“So what serial killer’s dead corps did you get it from?” Danny mocked playfully
“Hey, I have you know I spent good money on this outfit!”
“ Oh yeah, how much?”
“ 50 bucks”
“ 50 BUCKS!!!!” Danny gawked looking over Tuckers outfit. He had on an orange neon Dumpty Humpty t-shirt, green neon genes, purple neon shoes, sunglasses,and instead of his signature red cap like he usually wore he had replaced it with an identical neon yellow cap. He was a sight for sore eyes, no literally Danny’s eyes were getting sore just by looking at him too long. By the end of the night Danny was pretty sure he was gonna hate anything neon.
“ Tucker, why, would you spend 50 bucks on an outfit you will probably only wear once?”
“To attract the ladies, I figured if I’m already so hot with my usual clothes on imagine how hot I’d be decked out!!”
“ Aa-huh, and the sunglasses would be for??” Danny pointed to the top of tuckers head where a pair of shades sat.
“Oh these,” Tucker grabbed the pair of shades from his head and placed them on his face,”These bad boys are for the ladies sake.” He said in his best silky voice while double gun pointing at his best friend
“ The ladies?” “YEP.”
“ So your gonna wear shades, in the middle of the night, In a dark room, for the ladies?” Danny deadpanned as he crossed his arms raising one brow in pure disbelief.
“ YEP, to protect them from the ray of beauty that is me!” he said in an overly exaggerating fashion as he caressed his face.
Danny playfully rolled his eyes as he looked at his buddy, “ Okay,whatever you say, lets just get this over with ladies man.”
“Awww yeah!!!” Tucker jumped in the air, “Dude this is gonna be so killer, just wait till we get there. Hello ladies here I come!”
late at night, Danny swore that he could hear his voice echoing through the
darkness of his room.
plagued his nightmares and kept him wide awake, staring upwards at the same faded,
peeling glow-in-the-dark stars that he had stared at since he was five years
familiarity of it did little to calm his nerves, though. In those stars,
connected like constellations, he saw Dan’s face. He saw the outline of his
jaw, the gleam of his fangs, and the flame in his eyes.
took the stars down, but they left marks of whiter paint against the dirty
couldn’t get rid of him. His laugh pierced his eardrums mercilessly, sending
him to the ground in momentary mind numbing pain on the worst nights. At night,
he dreamed of ruined buildings and the faces of murdered innocents. The dead,
broken bodies of his family and friends were a common occurrence. Dan would
materialize in front of him, he’d become nose to nose with his worst enemy and
greatest fear, and then Dan’s chilling voice would remind him of something that
he didn’t need reminded of. The thought never, ever left his mind.
sleeping with a night light. He tried drowning his dreams in fuzzy blankets and
pillows. He even tried eating healthier, as Jazz so helpfully suggested.
never left. He was always there.
He supposed he
shouldn’t have been surprised when, two weeks later, Tucker pointed out what
had been gnawing at the back of his mind for a while. “Dude, are you okay?”
Danny answered, slamming his locker door shut. He offered Tucker a weak smile,
who frowned in response.
eye bags are big enough to carry my geometry book,” Tucker stated, reaching out
a hand to squeeze Danny’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”
night ghost hunting, that’s all.” Danny tried to sidle past him but was quickly
told me you’re still having issues with that Dan thing.”
tensed. That Dan thing. Like it wasn’t
that big of a deal.
wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t understand.
He’d forgotten everything from that alternate timeline. God, how he wished he
could forget just the same.
just some nightmares. Nothing to worry about.”
Tucker shook his head. “You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping. You hardly ever
talk anymore. ‘Just some nightmares’
doesn’t even cover it. I need you to tell me everything, okay?”
serious, Danny! I’m worried about you!”
couldn’t meet his eyes. He couldn’t let him know just how much pain he was in.
couldn’t let Tucker worry.
sorry, buddy. It’s just stressing me out, is all.”
it’s over.” Tucker said, slapping Danny on the back and steering him in the
direction of the lunchroom. “Sam and I are here for you if you need to talk. When you need to talk. We care about
you, Danny. We don’t like seeing you like this.”
is this, a support group?” Danny mumbled, trying to distract from the
conversation at hand.
know damn well that I’ll throw your ass in a support group if you don’t get
make it sound like I’m sick.”
don’t think you’re sick, Danny.”
Just mentally unsound.”
huffed but didn’t respond. He continued steering Danny towards the lunch room
and into the lunch line, where they got their food in silence and sat down at
their usual circular lunch table. Sam was already there, salad spread before
her. She looked up when Danny and Tucker sat across from her.
Danny,” Sam said through a mouthful of salad. She swallowed quickly. “What’s
you know, same old same old.”
Tucker muttered, fork clenched in his hand.
Sam chastised, but he persisted.
can’t you just talk to us, Danny? You
used to talk to us all the time! What the hell happened?”
grew up,” Danny snapped. Then, reigning in his anger, he looked down at his
tray and spun his fork in the school’s spaghetti distractedly. “I just…you
us understand.” Sam said, but her voice wasn’t angry or demanding. How she was
staying calm when Tucker wasn’t, Danny wasn’t sure.
continued to stare down at his plate. The spaghetti sauce suddenly looked very
much like blood, and he pushed it away from him distastefully. “It’s
in your life is complicated, Danny. It’s been complicated since freshman year.
That’s why we’re here.” Sam looked as though she wanted to reach out and grab
Danny’s hand, but she restrained herself. “To help. We’ll always be here to
knew she was right. He knew that Tucker was right to be angry and the both of
them were right to be concerned and worried. So, with a loud exhale through his
nose that blew his napkin across the table, Danny began to explain in a voice
so low it was almost incoherent. Sam had to lean in to hear him properly. “I
see him, Sam. I see him every night. He’s on my bedroom walls and he’s in my
head. I can’t stop thinking about him.”
gulped and nodded once. “I see dead people in my nightmares. I see destruction.
And I see Dan, over and over again, telling me that I’m going to become him.
That he’s inevitable. That there’s no stopping him.” He huffed out a laugh,
though there was nothing humorous about the situation. “You guys must think I’m
God,” Tucker muttered. “Danny, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
there anything we can do to help?” Sam queried hopefully, eyes wide.
studied his hands. They were shaking. “You can stay away from me.”
Tucker and Sam yelled in unison, causing multiple heads in their vicinity to
turn. Danny didn’t speak once more until every last person grew bored of the
trio and looked away.
Dan is inevitable, if I am going to become him…”
Danny,” said Sam.
won’t. You’re stronger than that,” said Tucker.
don’t want you guys getting in the line of fire. I don’t…I don’t know what I’d
do if you guys got hurt.”
we’re staying by your side. No matter
what,” Sam said, determination lighting her lavender eyes.
at my house tonight. Tucker, bring that giant blue blanket that feels like
heaven. Danny, bring those rocket pajamas you love. We’re gonna marathon Doctor
Who until our eyes fall out.”
really don’t think that’s a good idea—“
so we’ll stop by Tucker’s house together since his house is the closet, and
then we’ll all go and get Danny’s stuff and then head off to my house. We can
stop at the gas station and get a bunch of junk food, too.”
it.” Tucker nodded his head, Sam’s determination and ferocity echoing in his
my opinion matter at all?” Danny
asked, growing rather annoyed.
not really.” Tucker grinned. “Look, whether you want to admit it or not, you
need this. We all do. And don’t you dare think
about ditching, Daniel Fenton. We have Fenton Thermoses and we’re not afraid to
that’s how Danny ended up in Sam’s theatre, sandwiched between his two best
friends in a pair of fuzzy astronaut pajamas and surrounded by popcorn and
Starburst wrappers. He fell asleep before they even got through the second
episode of Doctor Who.
was the first night in weeks that he slept soundly.
Rating: M for swears and sexual innuendo (because…Donut)
Summary: Leonard Church’s friends are tired of him being a miserable bitch, so they drag him out to the bar to drink and play some pool. Leonard Church is tired of being a miserable bitch, so he takes a leap of faith. Entry for @rvbrarepairweek
“Alright, that’s fucking it, Church. Get some pants on, we’re
“Fuck off,” Church grumbled, pulling his pillow further over
his head and clamping it down tight. “Leave me here to die.”
On December 24, 1951, he married classmate Myrlie Beasley. Together they had three children: Darrell Kenyatta, Reena Denise, and James Van Dyke. Darrell died in February 2001 of colon cancer.
The couple moved to Mound Bayou, Mississippi, where Evers became a salesman for T. R. M. Howard’s Magnolia Mutual Life Insurance Company. Howard was also president of the Regional Council of Negro Leadership (RCNL); Evers helped organize the RCNL’s boycott of filling stations which denied blacks use of the stations’ restrooms. Evers and his brother Charles also attended the RCNL’s annual conferences in Mound Bayou between 1952 and 1954, which drew crowds of ten thousand or more.
Evers applied to the then-segregated University of Mississippi Law School in 1954 but his application was rejected. He submitted his application in concert with the NAACP as a test case.
In late 1954 Evers’ was named the NAACP’s first field secretary for Mississippi. In this position, he helped organize boycotts and set up new local chapters of the NAACP. He was involved with James Meredith’s efforts to enroll in the University of Mississippi in the early 1960s. Evers’ also helped Dr. Gilbert Mason Sr. organize the Biloxi Wade-Ins, protests against segregation efforts on the Mississippi Gulf Coast beaches.
Evers’ civil rights leadership and investigative work made him a target of white supremacists. In the weeks leading up to his death, the hostility directed towards him grew. His public investigations into the murder of Emmett Till and his vocal support of Clyde Kennard had made him a prominent black leader. On May 28, 1963, a Molotov cocktail was thrown into the carport of his home. On June 7, 1963, Evers was nearly run down by a car after he emerged from the Jackson NAACP office.
The Assassination of Medgar Evers By His Murderer, Byron De La Beckwith & How Long It Took To Get Justice
In the early morning of June 12, 1963, just hours after President John F. Kennedy‘s speech on national television in support of civil rights, Evers pulled into his driveway after returning from a meeting with NAACP lawyers. Emerging from his car and carrying NAACP T-shirts that read “Jim Crow Must Go,” Evers was struck in the back with a bullet fired from an Enfield 1917 rifle; the bullet ripped through his heart. He staggered 9 meters (30 feet) before collapsing. He was taken to the local hospital in Jackson where he was initially refused entry because of his color, until it was explained who he was; he died in the hospital 50 minutes later.[full citation needed]
The driveway where Medgar Evers was shot at 2332 Margaret Walker Alexander Drive.
District Attorney and future governor Bill Waller prosecuted De La Beckwith. Juries composed solely of white men twice that yeardeadlocked on De La Beckwith’s guilt.
In 1994, 30 years after the two previous trials had failed to reach a verdict, De La Beckwith was brought to trial based on new evidence.Bobby DeLaughter was the prosecutor. During the trial, the body of Evers was exhumed from his grave for an autopsy. De La Beckwith was convicted of murder on February 5, 1994, after having lived as a free man for much of the three decades following the killing (he was imprisoned from 1977 to 1980 for conspiring to murder A. I. Botnick). De La Beckwith appealed unsuccessfully, and died at age 80 in prison in January 2001.
The Murderer of Medgar Evers: Byron De La Beckwith
The White Citizens’ Council was founded in 1954 following the United States Supreme Court’s ruling in Brown v. Board of Education that school segregation was unconstitutional. Begun in Mississippi, chapters arose in towns across the South and used a variety of economic tactics to suppress black activism and sustain segregation. The councils applied pressure through boycotts, denial of loans and credit, employment termination, and other means. In Mississippi they prevented school integration until 1964.
De La Beckwith became a member of the White Citizens’ Council; however, he thought that more direct action was needed. On June 12, 1963, he assassinated NAACPcivil rightsleader Medgar Evers outside Evers’ home in Jackson.
The state twice prosecuted De La Beckwith for murder in 1964, but both trials ended with hung juries. The jurors were all male and all white. Mississippi had effectivelydisfranchised black voters since 1890, and they were thus prevented from serving on juries, whose membership was limited to voters. During the second trial, the former GovernorRoss Barnett (D) interrupted the trial to shake hands with Beckwith while Myrlie Evers, the widow of the activist, was testifying. In the 1980s, the Jackson Clarion Ledgerpublished reports on its investigation of the trial, which found that the Mississippi State Sovereignty Commission, supported by residents’ taxes, had assisted De La Beckwith’s attorneys in his second trial by using state resources to investigate members of the jury pool during voir dire.
According to Delmar Dennis, who acted as a key witness for the prosecution at the 1994 trial, De La Beckwith boasted of his role in the death of Medgar Evers at several KKK rallies and at similar gatherings in the years following his mistrials. In 1967, he unsuccessfully sought the Democratic Party’s nomination for Lieutenant Governor of Mississippi.
“Where Is the Voice Coming From?” (1963), a short story by the notable writer Eudora Welty, is considered one of the most significant works related to De La Beckwith’s crime. Welty was from Jackson, Mississippi, and she said later:
“Whoever the murderer is, I know him: not his identity, but his coming about, in this time and place. That is, I ought to have learned by now, from here, what such a man, intent on such a deed, had going on in his mind. I wrote his story–my fiction–in the first person: about that character’s point of view.”
Welty’s story was published in The New Yorker (July 6, 1963) soon after De La Beckwith’s arrest. So accurate was her portrayal that the magazine changed several details in the story before publication, for legal reasons.
His widow Myrlie Evers became a noted activist in her own right later in life, eventually serving as chair of the NAACP. Medgar’s brother Charles Evers returned to Jackson in July 1963 and served briefly in his slain brother’s place. He remained involved in Mississippi civil rights activities for many years and resides in Jackson.
On the 40-year anniversary of Evers’ assassination, hundreds of civil rights veterans, government officials, and students from across the country gathered around his grave site at Arlington National Cemetery to celebrate his life and legacy. Barry Bradford and three students—Sharmistha Dev, Jajah Wu and Debra Siegel, formerly of Adlai E. Stevenson High School in Lincolnshire, Illinois—planned and hosted the commemoration in his honor. Evers was the subject of the students’ research project.
In June 2013, a statue of Evers was erected at his alma mater, Alcorn State University, to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of his death. Alumni and guests from around the world gathered to recognize his contributions to American society.
Evers was further honored in a tribute at Arlington National Cemetery on the 50th anniversary of his death. Former President Bill Clinton, Attorney General Eric Holder, Navy Secretary Ray Mabus, Senator Roger Wicker and NAACP President Benjamin Todd Jealous all spoke commemorating Evers. Evers’ widow, Myrlie Evers-Williams, who also honored her late husband, spoke on his contributions to the advancement of civil rights:
“Medgar was a man who never wanted aberration, who never wanted to be in the limelight. He was a man who saw a job that needed to be done and he answered the call and the fight for freedom, dignity and justice not just for his people but all people.”
Evers’ story inspired a 1991 episode of the NBC TV series In the Heat of the Night, entitled “Sweet, Sweet Blues”, written by author William James Royce. The story tells of a murder of a young black man and the elderly white man, played by actor James Best, who seems to have gotten away with the 40-year-old murder. (The TV episode preceded by several years the trial that convicted Beckwith.) In the Heat of the Night won its first NAACP Image Award for Best Dramatic Series that season.
Robert DeLaughter wrote a first-person narrative article entitled “Mississippi Justice” published in Reader’s Digest, and a book, Never Too Late: A Prosecutor’s Story of Justice in the Medgar Evers Case (2001), based on his experiences.
I’m posting this five minute video about a street dog in LA or Inglewood. Her name is Spring. She’s considered the neighborhood dog. One day, she decided to settle under the porch of one of the neighbors, and give birth to nine puppies. This video tells the story of the rescue of Spring and her puppies.
Why in the world am I posting this? It really deviates from what I usually post. Because I think Spring is a brittany (used to be called brittany spaniels), and we have two brittanies, Buddy and Tucker. (There are four brittanies total in our extended family.) Spring looks so disheveled and messy before she was rescued, evidenced by the photo above, but she acts like and has the facial expressions of a brittany. Plus that weird tuft of hair on the top of her head is a dead give-away that she’s full or part brittany.
So, the story and video snatched my heart. So I get to bore you with it! If you watch it, hope you enjoy it.
“Maybe not. Slag, I hope not.” Tucker drummed his fingers on the console, looking grim. “It’s only short-term exposure. If we could reverse it and somehow get rid of the ectoranium he might be okay. But that’s the thing, we just don’t have a filtering system that sophisticated—”
Sam yanked off her helmet and shoved it into Tucker’s arms. “I’ve got an idea. Get Cujo and meet me there.”
Summary: Wash thought after all this time he would be okay. That he had finally accepted and moved on from all the horrors that happened to him and his team. He really thought he would be okay; then he saw Tucker in the suit.
According to the RvB Fan Guide, Tucker and Junior reunited and made a trip to Sanghelios following the pelican crash at Valhalla. I was inspired by actually getting to see Sanghelios in Halo 5, and wanted to see where I could go with that.
This fic contains mention of Tucker’s pregnancy and the circumstances surrounding it, which as it stands in canon definitely has some consent issues attached to it. It’s a brief mention, and nothing is detailed, but I felt like that still merited a heads-up.
Disclaimer: While I am in the process of reading the Halo novels, I’m not through all of them yet and there’s only so much that can be gleaned from the wiki, so I’m sure there are canon discrepancies here that I’ll realize eventually, but for now, it is what it is.
Thanks to @drunkendougss for the beta read! All remaining mistakes are mine.
The transport ship rumbles as it pulls out of slipspace, and Tucker’s stomach ties itself in knots. He hasn’t been this nervous since he shipped off to basic training. (“No, listen, there’s a mistake, I’m a noncombatant! Dr. Cloitus. I’m a medic or whatever.”) Even then, he kinda knew what was coming. Basically. Today—walking onto a planet embroiled in civil war, looking for a guy he’s never spoken to—he really doesn’t.
Junior stirs beside him, making sleepy noises. Tucker grips the armrests, a series of clunks and rumbles indicating they’ve reached the docking port over the planet. Automated announcements read over the PA system. Tucker’s able to pick up some of the words, but it’s fast and a little crackly. The message repeats in the higher pitched tones Tucker recognizes as Unggoy, and then, finally, in English: Please remain seated until the ship has come to a complete stop. Thank you for flying Galactic Blue.
“Come on, buddy.” Tucker nudges his son, needlessly, as Junior’s awake now and ready to bounce out of his seat. He doesn’t seem nervous at all. Must be easy to be a kid.