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#good friends with Deputy Beck!!!
glittervame · 1 month
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We are pleased to inform you....
Guys, it's a WIP but, I came up with it like 30 minutes ago on a whim, how do we feel about a series on this? Good Idea or bad Idea? Also sorry for the spelling this was rushed
Also can someone tell me how to make those pretty little page breakers?
It started when they found her playing with snakes, they had gone to her friend's house for a dinner party and had more left in the garden to play like every other parent when they had 1 two two-man glasses of wine and didn’t want to deal with their child.
“The doctor said she would be fine,” your mom said to your dad all nonchalantly, as she was quickly downing another glass 
“She’s playing with snakes now,” he seethes, “She’s turning out just like him”
“Everything's going to be fine, your grandfathers got no influence over us” She grins, “Drink up, it’s going to be a long 18 years”
He takes a beer and takes a quick sip, “let’s hope you’re right”
Then it was your 5th birthday and all your friends were over, your parents had gone all out, balloons, a giant cake, and a tone of presents.
You had come to notice that if you spoke a certain way you could have anything you wanted, you could shift your voice in a certain way and boom it was in your hand.
When your friends were talking but you wanted something done you simply just said, “The clock is ticking faster my friends we have much to get done”
Weren't you just a little adorable monster?
Your parents had thought it was cute when you had your friends over for the first time, then they noticed they were more like a possie or followers than actual friends. They started to notice that they were at your beck ‘n call, that’s what started to make them wary and start to pay more attention. 
Notice when your skin started becoming paler even though you would spend time playing outside with the other kids, and when your eyes started shifting to a light icy blue every once in a while.
That’s when they decided to ship you off to a fancy boarding school for elementary schoolers.
The teachers grew to like you and would give you more privileges than the other kids. Because naturally, you were a great student, you had straight A’s and since they offered to learn different languages you took up a natural knack for learning German, it just came naturally to you what can I say?
Fun fact I'm taking Latian right now
Once your letters start coming home about life there your parents are splendid, they think they’ve done the best thing for you, you have good friends and excelling in your classes, a parent couldn’t be any prouder. That is until you mention a riddle in one of your letters, Scheiße am Dampfen.
Immediately they pulled you out, you were already 11 by then so it didn’t really matter, it was your last year there and it was time to go to Hogwarts anyway. 
You had received your letter in the garden, it was placed in your usual seat addressed to you.
Ms. Y/n
The garden behind your house
XXXX-XXXX lane
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will find a list of needs and your ticket to platform 9 ¾ included in the envelope. We hope to have you join us.
Yours sincerely
Minerva Migonigal
Deputy Headmistress
Safe to say your parents we not pleased when they found you with that letter smiling up at them.
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deputy-ajay-ghale · 3 years
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Did I decide that I needed an OC to ship and write Wheaty fics with? Absolutely.
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📓
Sorry for my tardy reply, friend (I had... A Day yesterday, which curiously involved climbing a fence...)!
While the last idea I shared was quite serious, this one is more on the humourous side and I think qualifies as an AU, though not of the cozy coffee shop kind. It involves some of the British protagonists of the American Revolutionary War, but in a retail environment.
I don't recall how I arrived at this, but I think it has potential as a silly, 1990s-flavoured movie:
Picture a chain grocery store somewhere in a run-down part of town somewhere on the East Coast, which is inexpilcably staffed predominantly by ex-pats from the British Isles.
Business isn't going well to the point the location is always on the verge of being closed; manager William Howe is doing the bare minimum to keep the show on going, while his deputy John Burgoyne, a former c-list (or rather, z-list) celebrity fallen on hard times after having been embroiled in a scandal that is often alluded to, but never quite explained, spends his days in the backroom shirking his duties, feeling he has been born for greater things than this.
Behind the cash register sits one Henry Clinton, a depressed middle-aged widower who is *this* close to quitting each and every day, but doesn't, since he needs the money to feed his four kids. In the back, Messrs. Gage and Graves lord over the storage area; always at odds, Gage accuses Graves of occasionally misappropriating wares (he does); Graves accuses Gage of the same (he does). Nobody really wants to deal with them though because of Gage's unpleasant personality and the rumours that Graves knows how to use his fork lift as a weapon. There are also rumours he, and a band of younger guys called his 'nephews' who seem to be at his beck and call, have some kind of illegal scheme going on, but nobody is brave enough to ask.
Over the summer, two idealistic, enthusiastic high school students by the names of Simcoe and André join them, stacking shelves to save up for a trip to go see the world after graduation.
It is around the same time that Mr. Washington, in charge of the relevant local health and safety authority, sends one of his most dreaded inspectors, one Benedict Arnold, over, who isn't pleased to find Burgoyne in a state of suspicious undress in the backroom with a lady to keep him company ("that's Sarah! She isn't naked, she's wearing a toga! Nothing illegal about that, right? Right?"), Clinton nervously hiding below the register, and youngsters Simcoe and André involved in a tomato-powered fight in the fresh produce isle, in which one of André's tomatoes hits Arnold square in the face; not to speak of having been almost run over by a sweary Graves on his forklift, the very, very lacklustre book-keeping and broken-down coolers. He gives them a week- and they actually work to improve things for one day, before the enthusiasm fizzes out and everybody returns to quietly disliking one another. The day of the inspection, they pass, but barely. More significantly however, Arnold in an effort to get revenge for the tomato-incident, accuses André of having stolen goods and directly phones the regional manager, who overrides Howe's decision to keep André, who is being let go without even a reasonable inquest.
Everybody is enraged- and since the police have been involved as well and André is now facing charges, everyone for the first time truly bands together to help.
Around the same time, a young woman starts shopping there who catches the cashier's eye. The two get talking and Mary reveals she is taking online classes in order to find a better job to be financially able to get away from her abusive husband.
After a few lessons, Mary turns out to be a natural in all things computer-related to the point she has made her first forays into hacking, which she has tested by erasing all late fees from the local library's system. Impressed, her new friend Clinton asks her to gain access to the security camera footage of the inspection which has been kept under wraps. She succeeds and thus proves André's innocence while also revealing the real thief: Arnold.
The footage, alongside a flimsy explanation regarding its origin, is turned over to the police, and André cleared of any wrongdoing.
Rather than leaving Arnold to the authorities to deal with however, a personal revenge plot reminiscent of Home Alone is plotted and set into motion, which involves luring Arnold back to the store, and eventually netting him in one of these cylindrical manual Christmas tree balers. He is then hauled onto Graves' beat-up pick-up truck and never seen again.
All's well that ends well; Howe returns to the UK, where he gets onto talkshows after writing a book about his harrowing experiences in retail; Simcoe and André make enough money to go on their trip together; Burgoyne, after a clip of him dancing to ABBA's Dancing Queen secretly filmed by Simcoe and André goes viral on TikTok, is being offered to host a morning show on a small local TV channel; Clinton and Mary get together sometime after her husband has been declared missing. Nobody knows where he has gone, but Graves accidentally confesses to having lent the Christmas tree baler to Clinton. Over time, Mary becomes a sought-after professional for internet security, enabling Clinton to follow his true calling and become a stay-at-home dad. Graves, alongside his nephews, vanishes over night. A couple of months later, curious about his whereabouts, Howe googles him and finds a newspaper article from the south of England, with a picture of Graves in a suit and tie next to an elegant woman claimed to be his wife, whom he supports in a local election. She's running against one Mrs. Gage.
The store is forced to close, the crumbling building a mere memory for those who have once worked in it.
The last scene is set in a cold, inclement wasteland; all is cold and snowy, the wind sings as it combs through dry, dead grass; some might say it sounds like the Northwest Passage. Arnold stumbles as he makes his way across the barren landscape. He calls out if someone is there, but of course, there is no response. He trudges on, yet one can tell by his route in relation to the sun that he's heading ever further north...
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shallow-gravy · 4 years
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Reader/Sharky - “You come to my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?”
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Ok so I totally cheated and ended up being able to combine both of these (again) but it was sort of an accident? Though I’ll have you know you’ve created a monster because I am so fucking SOFT for this good good boy 😤😤
Word Count: ~1800
Warnings: drunk reader, naughty language, Sharky talks about his boner a little bit sksksksj
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You stumble up the porch steps, nearly tripping over the last one when the toe of your boot catches the lip.
You’re smooth though, turning it into a lunge for the front door, cursing and giggling and shushing at yourself when your palm slams against it harder than intended. You slide your hand down across the cheap wood, feeling for the knob.
Success.
Thankfully it turns - you don’t know what you would have done if he’d locked it - and you tumble heavily inside when the door swings open under your weight.
You’re pretty much in the middle of the kitchen. Everything’s dark, but you’ve been here a few times before to grab supplies and homemade explosives, so you’re at least pretty sure you know which direction you need to go.
You try to be a little stealthier when you close the door behind you, realizing he could very well come flying out of his bedroom with a shotgun at the racket you’ve made already.
But the sound of his snores reverberating through the trailer immediately quells any thoughts of Sharky exacting incendiary retribution against a trespasser.
You smile and bite your lip, reaching up to swipe some tangled hair out of your face. You wanted him to be there tonight; spent most of those hours getting shitfaced at the Spread Eagle with Mary May, Adelaide and Nick wishing he’d been there with you.
But Sharky and Hurk had been on field-burning duty all afternoon back here in the Henbane, radioed in earlier in the night to say they were both too beat to go all the way to the valley. Not that they don’t enjoy the job, because they definitely do. And you’re proud of him for stepping up to help. God, you’re so fucking proud of him. Especially since you’d been back in the valley dicking around all night.
You make your way over to the sink, turn it on and splash some water on your face, take a few sips from it to clean the stale taste of beer out of your mouth.
After you shut off the tap you turn carefully, lifting your shirt up to pat away the wetness before steadying yourself and following the sound of his snores down the hall.
His bedroom is so dark. You almost trip again over a tangle of something piled on the floor - clothes, probably - and his snores cut off when you curse loudly.
“Hunh!? Whozat?”
“It’s-” you start, grunting as you try to shrug your jacket from your shoulders and toe your boots off at the same time. “S’me. Just me.”
You hear him shifting on the bed, and then a dull light illuminates his face as he reaches to turn the alarm clock on the nightstand away from the wall and check what time it is.
You finally rid yourself of all the clothes you have the patience for, leaning over to steady yourself with your hands on the bed before you flop down unceremoniously beside him.
“What’re you doin’?” he mutters with an amused lilt, voice still thick with sleep as he settles back down and rolls onto his side to face you.
His bed is so warm.
“Missed you.” You squirm for a few moments, huffing impatiently as you struggle to pull the sheets out from underneath yourself so that you can snuggle down in beside him. “Wanted to cuddle.”
You hear a husky laugh as he grabs a fistful of the sheet and pulls it the rest of the way before dutifully draping it over you. “Shorty, you are wasted. Nice. How’d you get here?”
“...Kim,” you mutter a little shamefully after a moment’s pause.
Sharky is silent for a few beats as he processes this information. “You had Nick Rye’s baby-mama drive you all the way out to the middle of bum-fuck nowhere at four a.m…to cuddle?”
You nod, fisting the sheet up close to your chin as you dive into the space just beneath his chin, taking in the sleepy smell of him.
Kim had been a little dumbstruck when you told her where it was you wanted to go after she’d offered you a ride. But she’d said yes all the same, and you are gonna owe her big time for that kindness. And probably have to suffer some serious ribbing from her and Nick, besides.
You quirk your mouth, suddenly feeling wildly embarrassed. It’s not like you and Sharky have made anything ‘official.’ You’ve made out a couple times, slept tangled up with each other a couple more times. Things being as they are, you haven’t exactly had a lot of opportunity to just get to know each other in any normal sense of the term.
What if this is the absolute last thing he wants? Some clingy, pathetic sheriff’s deputy falling into his bed uninvited, reeking of booze and smoke at ungodly hours of the morning, expecting him to be at your beck and call?
You sniffle as you feel tears well up in your eyes unbidden, tucking up even closer to him as if the sheer force of your will is enough to prevent him from being understandably agitated.
“...Are you mad?” you ask, voice small.
Sharky scoffs softly, one big hand coming up to settle against your ribs. “Mad? ‘Course not,” he mutters before a bear-like yawn escapes him. “How the hell could I ever be mad at you? You’re fuckin’ adorable. Just thought you, uh...I dunno. Thought you weren’t super keen on havin’ everybody know about whatever this is—with us, I mean.”
“Fuck them,” you mumble, muffled by the expanse of his chest and collarbone.
Sharky blinks in the darkness, angles his head down in your direction.
“I don’t care what they think,” you mutter, staying resolutely tucked up against him. “I like you, Sharky. Like...like-like you. Ya know? Fuck, that’s too many likes. No it’s not. I mean, you just—you always tell me I’m your best friend ‘n you’re my best friend too ‘n it’s like...it’s like when I’m with you I feel like someone’s actually lookin’ out for me. Like a little fuckin’...dumb little baby bird or something. God, m’sorry, that sounds so fucking cheesy—I have to shut up. Forget I said any of this. Goodnight.”
You somehow manage to burrow further into the space beneath his chin, which makes it difficult when he tries to pry you out from there not a second later.
“Shit, shorty, I—listen,” he mutters with a small chuckle, shifting again, pushing at your shoulder gently. “I’m not gonna lie, you are givin’ me a very emotional boner right now, and—and you’re drunk - and that’s awesome, I kinda wish I was drunk too - but I feel kinda bad, ya know? Like, I don’t wanna take advantage of you or nothin’, or have you wake up in the mornin’ and feel like-”
“I’m giving you an—an emotional boner?” you stutter out, voice cracking with the unshed tears of a helpless drunkard.
You finally uncurl yourself and lift your head. He isn’t pushing you away, necessarily, but it’s obvious he wants to give himself a little space. You can’t help sniffling again, feeling very pathetic and a little dizzy and-
“Y-yeah, dep, I mean seriously, it’s like...this thing could probably cut glass right now. I’d totally show you, but...but, uh…”
Sharky pauses and clears his throat, remembering this isn’t just a friendly conversation with his best friend anymore. He rubs his thumb briefly over your shoulder before giving it a single firm pat with his hand. “But you crawled in here for cuddles, right? Maybe let’s start with that.”
You sniffle once more and find yourself descending into a few giggles. “Yeah. Okay.”
Sharky huffs out a little laugh and shifts forward to plant a kiss on your brow, sneaking that hand back down and tucking it between your arm and your side. It makes your heart lurch in your chest.
You angle your head up, obviously seeking more from the man you’re starting to think might be too damn good for you—all boner-talk aside.
“I trust you like crazy, Shark,” you mutter, shuffling yourself closer to brush your nose against his. “You know that, right?”
Sharky swallows, his hand squeezing a bit where it lays over your ribs. He’s trying so hard to be a gentleman, but when your lips pass across his he simply can’t do anything but give in and kiss you how you’re practically begging to be kissed.
It’s slow and soft and chaste before his hand finds its way up to the side of your neck while yours snakes up to thread fingers into the short but surprisingly thick hair at the back of his head.
That touch spurs him on and he deepens it and you are very glad to let him. Tugging at his hair, you can’t help the little pleasurable sounds that escape as you inevitably try to pull him closer.
But Sharky backs away fast after that, wrangling himself in as he takes a few heavy breaths. He grins as you pout at the loss and before you know it he’s swooping back to pepper your whole face with sloppy, silly kisses, pulling you in and wrapping you up into a tight bear hug.
“Nah uh, I know what you’re tryin’ to do, po-po. And I ain’t gonna say I don’t like it-”
“Sharky-!” You can’t help but let out a small wail, wriggling against the sudden hold he has on you.
“But...how ‘bout we wait and see how you’re feelin’ about all this in the mornin’, huh?”
Your struggling dissipates after a few more moments. You catch your breath and he loosens his grip, but not before planting one more smooch against your temple.
“C’mon, boss—roll over and back it up. You wanted cuddles and that is what I am here to provide.”
Your mouth quirks. You do a bad job of hiding the stupid smile it wants to make. “Okay...”
You can’t help leaning forward to give him one more kiss goodnight. And then you dutifully turn over so that your back is to him, close your eyes and think you could melt when you feel him press against your back. He curls himself up so that he fits right up against you and slips an arm around your waist.
It’s warm and it feels like home.
“...D’you sleep with a grenade in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” you mutter through a sleepy smile.
He snorts and squeezes you gently. “Both?”
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mcheang · 4 years
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2 sperate fics: 1 with after Lila got exposed Alya is bitter and resentful at Mari for cutting ties with her former classmates and Mari's thriving career and Mari and new friends confront her on this angry grudge she's holding. the 2nd is similar but Marinette asking Lila why she did what she did and why she tried so hard to ruin Marinette for just trying to expose her
Part 1: Grow Up
I am so excited. This is my first request! Normally I post one fic per day, but I actually have a (spoiler!) double feature tmr, so what the heck. I hope this satisfies you. I will warn you that I will only answer half of your request in Part 2 because I already wrote a fic for why Lila lies, which I will post tmr. 🙂
It all came to a head at the next class president election.
The previous semester, the majority of the class had decided to vote for Lila to be class president after she expressed interest in it.
Alya ignored Marinette’s warnings and agreed to be that liar’s deputy.
Chloe and Sabrina played dirty of course. But a surprise came when Adrien supported Marinette as her deputy. Alya had been surprised then because she didn’t think he could spare the time. She didn’t know he knew Lila was a liar and that her reign would be intolerable at best.
Lila won, of course. Despite Sabrina providing evidence that Lila was a liar. The class believed it was all fabricated.
It wasn’t until later that Mrs Rossi forced Lila to tell the truth. Apparently Chloe managed to get the last laugh after all.
After that, the class pleaded for Marinette to take up her old post but she declined because she already made commitments to her new commissions on her website.
Apparently with Lila as class president and Alya as her deputy, Marinette had more free time, which she chose to spend with Adrien since he had also avoided Lila like the plague.
Life became worse. Lila would not be graduating at the end of the year and had detention for the rest of it besides. And all her promises about fabulous class trips and easy fundraising was false.
Without Marinette, the class field trips became commonplace museum tours. Fundraising was hard without her families’ free pastries.
To rub salt in the wound, Aurore had started her own blog. She interviewed Ladybug who finally expressed relief that someone questioned Lila’s interview.
After that, Rena Rouge and Carapace were replaced.
As Alya’s blog support dropped, MDC.com flew up the charts. Celebrities kept name dropping Marinette.
Audrey even gave her a raving review.
Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale hires Marinette to design their outfits for their joint tour.
Whenever Alya tried to talk to Marinette or get some time with her, her own deputy duties got in the way, or Marinette was busy with something else.
Alya wasn’t blind. She knew Chloe and Aurore had replaced her as Marinette’s BFF.
While the rest of the class had supported Lila, Marinette had her own clique: Adrien, Chloe, Sabrina, Alix, Nathaniel, Marc, and Aurore.
When the elections came up again, Alya wondered if Marinette would let her be her deputy again. But to her surprise, Chloe was the only candidate.
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That was the last straw. Alya’s bitterness finally overflowed.
All she had wanted was her Best Friend back. To go back to the way things were. She wanted her blog to be popular again, she wanted to be a hero again, and she wanted Marinette to be her bestie again.
She didn’t know who this popular designer girl was.
Alya protested Chloe’s victory. Why should the class bully be nominated. It should be Marinette. They had done such an awesome job last time.
To Alya’s surprise, it wasn’t Chloe who shut her down. It was Ms Bustier.
She gently admonished Alya for not giving Chloe a chance.
Marinette even piped up that she was too busy. Besides, she believes Chloe will make a good class rep.
Alya wanted to scream. Instead, she sat back down next to her embarrassed Boyfriend. Ugh, couldn’t he be more supportive?
At lunch, as Alya sat with Nino, Kim, Ivan and Mylene, Marinette and her posse came over.
“Alya, what’s gotten into you?” Marinette looked so disappointed. Ha. She’s got some nerve. “How could you say those stuff about Chloe?”
Alya snapped back, “How could I? How could you? How can you all stand there and forget all the mean things Chloe has done.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m standing right here, you know.”
Adrien said gently, “people change, Alya. And Chloe has changed for the better.”
“But Marinette has changed for the worse!” Alya finally yelled, causing even her own table to stare at her.
While Marinette looked stunned by the accusation, her friends looked furious.
“Excuse me?” Alix demanded.
Alya finally let loose the tirade Caline had build a dam over. “Last time, Marinette was the kind of girl who made time for everyone, who helped everyone, who stood up to bullies. But you...” she shook her head at Marinette. “I don’t even recognise you anymore, girl.”
Sabrina made the first defense. “Marinette doesn’t have to help everyone. It is her decision. You do not get to pressure her like that.”
Marc added, “Yeah, besides she still helps us when she can. She helped us to come up with costume designs for our comics.”
Nathaniel nodded. “And she does spend time with us. Sabrina’s right, Alya. Marinette is free to choose how to spend her time and with which friends she chooses to hang out with. Just because she doesn’t hang out with you anymore doesn’t mean you aren’t friends.”
Chloe sniffed, “Though with how you’ve been treating her, it’s no wonder Marinette moved on. Honestly Alya, you’re a crow. The moment you see something shiny, you fly away. And that’s what you did. When Lila came along in all her glitter, you had a choice to support 2 candidates and you made your choice.”
Aurore stared Alya down. “We all know why you want Marinette back. You want the security of your first year here. You want your blog back. But have you even thought about Marinette’s own feelings? Did you ever apologize for doubting her once Lila was exposed, without asking for anything in return? Did you ever ask her what she wanted before speaking for her? Did you even congratulate her for her success?”
No. Alya swallowed. No, she had not.
Marinette looked at Alya pityingly. “I had hoped you would adapt Alya, that you could see the good in others and let go of the past. But it’s time to face the facts. We can never go back to what we used to be. It’s time to grow up, Alya.”
And with her final word said, Marinette led her clique away. They were going to eat lunch at her place.
And they left Alya behind to pick up the scraps of what had remained of her life.
Part 2: here we are again
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Lila was in the toilets again. This was her new haunting ground. Not the star of her entourage, sitting as if she were on a throne. Not with a trail of admirers following her to class. Here, in this stinky cubicle, listening to all the gossip.
Ever since Chloe outed Lila, the class had treated her like a pariah. Alya only talked to her when necessary, mostly to discuss their duties as president and deputy.
Honestly, Lila wished that goody 2 shoes would have replaced her. Hell, even Chloe would have been acceptable. At least then she would be left alone to stew in peace.
But no. Marinette was too busy now with her flourishing business. And Chloe refused to accept the position as second choice.
When Lila had snapped at Alya to just manage without her, Alya had growled back, “No way in (swear word) hell. You ruined my blog, and I’d sooner carry bowling balls to school than do your work for you.”
Lila had rolled her eyes then. “Like it’s my fault you’re a tabloid writer.”
“What did you say?!”
Long story short, Alya had called Mrs Rossi who threatened Lila with military school and no allowance unless she did her duties.
Lila did them. Her class was unappreciative of her hard work. She didn’t blame them. She had been on one of Marinette’s organised trips. She knew her own were mediocre.
Class funding had reached an all new low, too. No one wanted to support the lying president’s fundraisers.
Lila bore her class’ hatred with grace. Sure she had her time with an akuma but Hawkmoth can only keep targeting her so much before he moved on to Alya or some other dupe.
Besides, it was only a matter of time before she moved anyway. Lila could hold on until then. She just needed to be patient.
“Lila?” A knock on her cubicle door.
Lila had patience.
“What do you want?” Lila called back bitterly. “Here to finally gloat?”
“No,” Marinette answered calmly. “Just to get answers, and closure.”
Lila barked out a laugh. Why not? She might as well put an end to their feud. Lose with dignity.
“Ask away.”
There was a pause. Then, “Why? Why did you try so hard to bury me? Even when I stopped trying to point out the holes in your story, you still targeted me.”
It was a fair question.
Lila answered. “You were always a target, Marinette. No matter what you did, you would always have been.”
The ensuing silence was a request for more information.
Lila continued, “At every class I’ve been to, there is a leader. Someone with influence over the school. Someone to knock off their throne. Chloe may be the queen, but her only entourage is Sabrina. You’re the president and the class practically sings you praise. You were real competition. I targeted you before I even met you.”
And she had temporarily succeeded. Before, the classmates that would have once listened to Marinette, had hovered around Lila to answer her every beck and call. The power she had felt back then had felt so good.
“And this doesn’t have anything to do with Adrien?” Marinette was skeptical.
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“Oh, I saw how close you were. And yes, you were my main competitor then too. Kagami was the other one. But thanks to Ladybug, he saw through me. You know he was the one to get me to make up that lying disability.”
“Yes, I know. Your story was very moving,” Marinette recalled with annoyance. Even her own Mother had easily forgiven Lila. “Is that all there was to it? Crush me so you could rule my class and win Adrien?”
Lila leaned back. “No, there’s one last thing. I don’t like loose threads. Adrien had something to lose because he let me manipulate the class. But I knew that as long as the class had faith in you, eventually you would come up with some proof that would plant the seed of doubt in my stories. I had no hold over you, so there was no way you would have escaped my plans even if you weren’t class president or into Adrien.”
There was silence once more as Marinette absorbed this.
“Satisifed?” Lila called through the stall door.
“Not exactly,” Marinette admitted. “But i got what I came for.”
Lila nodded, even as she knew Marinette couldn’t see. “Then I’ll see you in class.”
More like Marinette will see her. When Lila became president, Alya suggested they switch seats so they could make plans more efficiently. Adrien had stubbornly followed Marinette to the back. When Lila was exposed, Alya sat in front with Nino, leaving Lila with her own table once again.
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As the main door opened, Marinette paused. “One more thing. Do I have anything more to worry from you?”
Lila laughed, a genuine laugh that actually sounded pleasant to hear. “Even if I said no, would you believe me?”
They both knew the answer to that.
But it was the truth, Lila had no vendetta left for Marinette. It was Chloe who had earned her ire, but she was too powerful. Lila was through with Françoise Dupont College. It was no longer worth her effort.
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myheartrevealedocs · 4 years
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Untouchable Ch 9- The Boogeyman (S2E6)
Warnings: murder of young children, swearing, generally just some people dealing with some painful stuff badly
Ch 8 | Ch 10
~ ~ ~
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Lydia had been right about one thing: after Strauss cleared her to take Hotch’s job offer, she didn’t end up going on a case for months. She went through what was, essentially, the FBI Academy, making sure she was prepared for any sort of field work that fell upon her while she was on a case.
Upon graduation, she made Hotch promise that she’d never have to go through anything like that again. It was brutal. But on the bright side, by her 23rd birthday, if she so chose, she could become an agent. That was quite the accomplishment for her.
The summer was finishing up and Lydia was preparing for her 3rd semester of her graduate program, with Spencer’s help, of course. He’d been an angel for the past three months. And somehow, no one seemed to have caught on to their secret relationship.
It was so nice. What she felt with Spencer was unlike anything she’d been a part of before. He was sweet and made her laugh and kept her engaged. And he understood her. He allowed her to speak openly about her mother and father, though she hardly did. When she explained to him that her and her sister ended up in a foster care system, he didn’t pressure her to talk about why her father had lost custody. Instead, he asked her about Beck, a topic she was far more comfortable with.
He was her support system. And her best friend.
Which was why he was the first to greet her upon her entrance to the BAU.
“Hey, do we have a case?” he asked bluntly, meeting her halfway to her desk and following her there.
“I wouldn’t be here if we didn’t,” she admitted, setting her go bag down, finally having one to keep in the office. “Gideon?”
“Round table room,” he replied, shortly. Then he leaned in, almost secretively. “Welcome back.”
She opened her mouth to tease him, but was cut off by Morgan.
“Lydia! Bring it in, kiddo!” He entered the bullpen, arms extended for a hug, which she graciously accepted.
“Derek! I’ve missed you guys. How have things been without me?”
“Eh…” he squeeked. “Tense?”
She knew what he was referring to. Apparently, on their last case, Elle had shot an unsub outside of his house with no witnesses around. She was claiming it was self defense, but the circumstances were fishy and Hotch didn’t believe her. Or at least, Spencer thought Hotch didn’t believe her.
“Morgan, Reid, Ambers,” JJ called, sternly. “Let’s go.”
The three of them sheepishly made their way to the conference room, where JJ and Gideon were waiting for them.
“Nicholas Faye, of Ozona, Texas, was beaten to death roughly 13 hours ago” JJ began, a picture of a young kid with a bloody head wound appearing on screen. “Blunt force trauma to the head. He’s the second young boy in Ozona to die the same death in the last 2 months. Local hunters found his body in the woods. The first victim’s name, Robbie Davis.”
Lydia picked up one of the case files and sat down with the team, looking over the crime scene photos. She didn’t want to, but couldn’t help herself from glancing at Nicholas’s file. He was eight. Who took out their psychotic desires on such small children?
“Are these boys connected somehow?” Morgan asked.
“Ozona’s population’s roughly 2,500,” JJ explained. “Everyone has some kind of connection.”
“Well, if they weren’t linked before, they most certainly are now,” he murmured.
~ ~ ~
Lydia didn’t fail to notice the lack of Hotch and Elle as they boarded the jet. No wonder Gideon asked her to come along, they were severely understaffed.
Lydia sat down beside JJ on the flight, the two of them looking over the medical report together.
“Did you guys hear Elle was cleared?” Spencer asked, sitting across from them, with Morgan. He had a fresh cup of coffee in his hands.
JJ nodded, looking to Derek, who simply said, “Self-defense.”
“So it was a good shoot,” Spencer continued.
“She hit what she was aimin’ for,” JJ mumbled, harshly.
“That’s not what I meant,” Spencer tried to defend himself, but the can of worms had been opened.
“I know.”
“If they cleared her, how come she’s not here with us?” Morgan demanded. “Or Hotch?”
Gideon was quick to put an end to the speculating. “Focus on the case.”
They had just started to discuss the chances of these kids being surrogates for a past bully when JJ got a call from the sheriff, letting them know a new victim had just been discovered. An 11-year-old girl.
“Why would the victimology just… suddenly change?” Reid asked.
“Maybe the girl wasn’t the target?” Morgan suggested. “Maybe she just got in the way.”
“Or the sex of his victim isn’t significant,” Gideon reasoned. “The pace he’s killing certainly indicates a velocity of change.”
“We can’t surveil every kid in Ozona,” JJ sighed. “How are we supposed to keep them all safe?”
“Enforce a curfew?” Reid offered.
Morgan didn’t seem to disagree with him, but still shook his head as if frustrated. “Children shouldn’t have to worry about something like that.”
“Tell me about it,” JJ mumbled. “The woods were the only thing I was afraid of when I was a kid.”
“Seriously?” he asked, startled. “I thought you grew up in a small town?”
She chuckled. “Yeah. Surrounded by woods.”
“Bummer for you.”
“Yeah.”
“The only I was afraid of was the dark,” he explained.
Reid raised an eyebrow. “Some of us still are.”
The whole group glanced up questioningly and Lydia was sure Morgan was going to tease him about it, but Gideon was already back on topic.
“When we land, Lydia and Reid, go to the new crime scene. The little girl,” he ordered. “Morgan and I will look at the scene where Nicholas Faye was found.”
They nodded, settling into silence.
~ ~ ~
“This is just a quarter mile from where the two boys were killed,” a deputy told them as Lydia and Reid walked onto the scene. “Bludgeoned to death the same way.”
The medic who was wheeling off her body shook his head. “Not entirely true. I found some markings on her scalp that indicated that that psycho beat her postmortem.”
Lydia raised an eyebrow at Reid, before walking around the scene to look for anything the deputies might have missed. “So much for Morgan’s theory on her getting in the way.”
“Suggests the unsub’s getting more brazen,” he agreed.
“He’s getting brazen all right,” the medic grumbled. “I’ve bagged three children in the last month.”
Lydia glanced at a sign nailed into a nearby tree, which designated the surrounding area as hunting grounds. “Deputy, do you get a lot of hunters around here?”
He shrugged. “There are only a few avid hunters in town. The forest goes on for miles and miles, so despite our patrols it’s possible to miss a few.”
Reid stepped around the stretcher and joined her. “What are you thinking?”
“Just trying to get a feel for who would know these woods. If the unsub kept beating her after death, he had to know he was in a spot no one would pass through accidentally.”
“It doesn’t really fit the MO of a hunter to beat someone to death,” he explained.
“Maybe not, but who else is out here regularly? The patrols?”
He contemplated this for a minute. “I’ll bring it up later. Did you look for evidence?”
“Well, I can’t exactly dust the dirt for fingerprints,” she argued. “And I’m sure he took the weapon with him. He’d want to stash it in a separate sight for his next victim. Since I can’t search the whole woods, I’m pretty much useless.”
“You’re not useless,” he assured her. “Looking into the patrols was a good suggestion. Gideon wouldn’t have brought you along if he didn’t think you could help.”
She gave him a halfhearted smile, before continuing around the closed off area and kicking up leaves. She wanted to believe him, but this was a crime scene for a profiler. And she wasn’t a profiler.
~ ~ ~
Lydia was left to twiddling her thumbs in the station as they gave a profile to the deputies. They’d spent the day telling children and parents alike about how to best take care of themselves and make sure no one else got grabbed. But there really wasn’t anything for her to analyze. She was, frankly, quite bored.
“Excuse me.”
Lydia looked up to find a very pregnant woman walking in, a young boy holding her hand.
“Chief,” the deputy they’d met before said. “You’re gonna want to hear this.”
The entire room went quiet as she spoke. “My son, Matthew, never came home today.”
“When was he last seen?” Gideon started and the rest of the team made their way to the evidence board.
The only things on the board were a map of the town and the pictures of the killed kids, which Lydia was sure wasn’t helping ease the mother.
“His teacher saw him in the parking lot after school.”
“Search team,” the sheriff demanded and everyone began to disperse, talking amongst themselves.
“Ok, Reid,” Morgan said, stepping up to the map. “The school is on Willow Rd.”
Reid began to explain the secluded areas nearby and Morgan reasoned out where the deputies should start their search. Across the room, JJ was helping the mother into a chair and Gideon was joining them to ask more questions.
And Lydia was still… doing nothing. No help at all.
“Honey, is that true?” the mother asked, catching the attention of most of the room. She spoke to her youngest son. “Are you hidin’ something?”
“You want to protect him, right?” Gideon prompted The boy glanced nervously at all the adults now fixed on him. “It’s what a brother’s for.”
“Matty said he was just going to ring the doorbell,” he defended. “At the haunted house… on the hill.”
Lydia’s ears pricked up. Haunted house? That was something to keep her busy.
“The Finnegan’s place,” a man named James Charles answered. He was the guidance counselor at the local school, so he knew the kids well and had been involved in the case since day one.
“Who’s Finnegan?” Gideon demanded.
“This old guy who lives in that house,” the kid responded.
The sheriff was the next to explain. “Kind of a local legend. Ghost story.”
“About?” Reid asked.
“Supposedly he watches the kids from his window. Hunts ‘em. Skins ‘em. Eats ‘em.” He shrugged. “Standard.”
“Folks have been tellin’ that story since I was a kid,” Charles explained.
Morgan was clearly pissed. “Why haven’t we heard about this? Fables are often sparked by an ounce of truth. We should exhaust every possibility.”
“Nevermind that, Morgan,” Gideon told him. “Grab your things. Lydia, too. We’re going on a raid.”
~ ~ ~
After Morgan and the sheriff swept the house and found it to be empty, Lydia went in to look for potential evidence. The power had been cut, which would indicate it had been empty for a few weeks, at least, but inside was a copy of the day’s paper.
Gideon and Spencer searched the shed out back and found the boy, Matthew. Poor kid had run off when he thought he heard Finnegan and hid in the shed for most of the day. While the rest of the team was figuring out how to get him home, Lydia and Spencer began their search of the house.
She scanned the shelves in his study while Reid went through his desk. They were looking for any indication that he killed kids in his free time, but it looked pretty normal.
“Hm… I’m gonna search the next room. Will you be alright here?” she asked him, turning away from the books and trinkets.
He nodded, still rumbling through drawers. “I’ll call Garcia to see if she found anything on Finnegan.”
Lydia smiled, stepping out the door. “Holler if you hear anything interesting.”
He agreed, watching her walk off, fondly, before a sense of dread overcame him with the realization he was now all alone in the dark. He dialed Garcia as fast as he could, trying to focus on the files in front of him and forget about the ominous room behind him.
Meanwhile, Lydia walked into an open living space with some scary decorations. A full wall was lined with hunting knives and a cabinet of shotguns. Given the creepy stuffed animal heads around the rest of the house, Lydia wasn’t surprised to find that he was a hunter, but even so, the amount of weapons he owned seemed extensive.
A hunter, especially one who lived basically in the woods himself, would know the trails well. But she remembered what Reid had said about how strange it would be for a hunter to kill someone with blunt force trauma. And clearly Finnegan was proud of his kills. Beating up kids and leaving them in the woods didn’t line up with the guy who organized his knives by size and preserved his kills on frames in his house.
But just in time to throw a wrench in her assumption, she came across a few items hastily stuffed underneath the coffee table in the adjacent room. She knelt down and picked up a blue lunchbox and a pink and white backpack.
“Ah!” Reid’s squeal echoed through the house, followed by laughter from Morgan.
Lydia picked up her findings and started to make her way back towards them.
“You really are afraid of the dark,” Morgan teased.
“I’m working on that.”
“You should work a little harder.”
She stepped into the main hallway and almost walked directly into her boyfriend. “Woah. Hey. You alright?” She couldn’t stop herself from smiling at his flustered demeanor.
“What are you holding?” he deflected, noticing her awkward grip on her flashlight with her full hands.
“My deputy got the boy home safe,” the sheriff announced, entering the house with Gideon. “Turns out the poor kid got spooked by a tree branch.”
Morgan sighed. “This whole town’s on edge.”
“And rightfully so,” Lydia argued, holding up the lunchbox for them to see. “Robbie Davis,” she said, pointing to the name in sharpie on the bottom, then doing the same to the backpack. “Sarah Peterson.”
“I guess Finnegan brought the kids back here first before baiting ‘em into the woods,” Morgan reasoned. “But why wouldn’t he get rid of the evidence?”
Gideon looked somewhat baffled.
“He considers them trophies,” Reid offered.
“When this is all said and done I’d like to hang his head on my wall,” Morgan finished, before walking further into the house.
~ ~ ~
The house was huge. It was going to take hours to search, but it was better than the jackshit she’d been doing earlier. The team had spread out pretty evenly across the house, looking for any indication of where Finnegan had run off to.
“Lydia! Morgan!” Gideon called up the stairs.
The two of them met on the stairwell and found Gideon, Reid, and the sheriff all headed out the door.
“One of the search teams just found Finnegan’s body in the woods,” Gideon continued to explain.
“No shit…” Lydia whispered.
“I need you to keep searching the house. And what did I say about looking fascinated?” he warned her, being the last to walk out the door. “It’ll creep the locals out.”
She nodded, though he was already gone, and looked to Morgan for instruction.
“Do you wanna search down here and I’ll go back upstairs?” he asked, not comfortable with ordering Lydia around despite being the superior agent (in fact, the only agent) in the house.
“Sure,” she responded and lifted up her flashlight to navigate the ground floor once more.
She wasn’t sure what Reid and Gideon had gone through before they left, so she headed towards the back end of the house and started there. The bathroom was fairly standard and she moved through it quickly, then wound up in the kitchen.
Across an island in the middle of the room were many empty food containers. They’d been delivered and eaten within the past few days. Lydia continued, thinking nothing of it and searched through some drawers, when her phone went off.
“Lydia? Finnegan’s been dead for two weeks, at least,” Gideon informed her. “Looks like his heart gave out when he was setting an animal trap.”
“Interesting,” she mumbled, turning back on the plastic containers. “It looks like I’ve got some prints to lift, then.”
“His body had been covered up. Someone’s trying to take advantage of the fact that no one knows he’s dead.”
“I noticed. We’ve got food containers here that were delivered today and they’ve been eaten. Someone hasn’t just been bringing in his papers, Gideon. They’ve been basically living here.”
“And leaving trophies from their kills there. We’re on our way back. Dust those containers and look for any other evidence of our unsub. He clearly didn’t think we’d find Finnegan. He didn’t think to hide anything he left in the house.”
“You got it.”
She hung up and went to grab some print dust from her bag. But she held off on using it, searching for anything else she could dust and dropping it on the counter as well.
“What have you got?” Gideon asked as he stormed into the house and all the way back to the kitchen.
“Provisions. The church delivers them to elders in town,” she explained, not looking up from her search through the cabinets. “Unsub has been eating all the ones dropped off in the past few days.”
“Did he eat everything?” Morgan inquired, walking in behind them.
She shook her head and lifted the trash can in the corner of the room, opening it up for the boys to see inside. “He doesn’t like creamed spinach it seems.” Inside there were cups of spinach, all duct taped shut. She dropped the can roughly and knelt down to grab the cups of uneaten food and set them up with the other things she’d collected.
“Grab those prints quickly,” Gideon instructed, his phone going off in his pocket. “Have Garcia run them for a match.” Looking at his screen, he mumbled, “Hotch,” before stepping out of the room.
Reid watched him go, then began talking to Morgan. “It’s about Elle, isn’t it?”
Lydia raised an eyebrow, but went back to work, finding pristine prints almost immediately.
“I don’t know,” the agent replied.
“You know, I- I talked to her in Ohio,” Spencer admitted.
“Reid, we all talked to her.”
“No, I- I- I talked to her before. I went to her room one night, and she was drinking.”
“She almost died. I’d be drinking, too.” Morgan sounded exhausted, leaving the conversation at that.
Lydia waited until she was certain he was gone to look up at Reid. “Don’t worry about Elle, Spencer. Hotch is working on that. When we’ve finished this case, then you can talk to her, call her, whatever you need to do to make sure she’s okay.”
He nodded, his teeth pulling at his lips in concentration. “Thanks, Lydia.”
She shot him a small smile, the dark finally lifting with the morning light. “If you just want to talk, you know I’ll listen.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but Gideon was already on his way back in, not looking too happy.
Text, she mouthed to Spencer, not wanting him to give up so easily on talking to her.
Later, he mouthed back.
~ ~ ~
They got back to the station late that morning and Gideon instructed the three of them to settle down until Garcia got back to them with the prints Lydia had sent her.
That’s how she ended up sitting around with JJ, Reid, and Morgan, clutching her morning coffee like it was her life and vaguely listening to them talk about the case. She didn’t even realize the topic had changed until she was in the middle of it.
“Why the woods, JJ?” Morgan started to her left. Lydia glanced up, curious where the conversation had ended up.
“Hm?”
“Your fear. You said it was of the woods.”
She glanced down, her brow creased in concentration. “Uh, I used to be a camp counselor when I was a teenager in the woods up in Vermont. I had the night shift-- tuck the girls in, turn off the lights, you know, the typical drill. Everything seemed fine, all the kids were asleep. You know… nothing out of the ordinary… Until I noticed that there was some blood on the hallway floor…”
Both the boys’ eyebrows shot up, glancing at each other curiously. Lydia’s face was one more of confusion. The way she set up the story sounded more like a ghost story than a personal tragedy. And it would turn out she was right, because while the boys were distracted, JJ sent Lydia a wink. Oh… she was totally playing them.
“...so I followed the blood trail out to the camp director’s cabin, walked up to his bed, and he was just lying there underneath his covers… Dead. Someone stabbed him. I ran out of there so fast. Out the door, down the hall. I just remember it being really dark. Once I got to the door, there was another counselor there. I guess she heard me scream.
“They caught the caretaker on his way to town. Guess he had still had the knife on him. Anyway, I guess that’s probably when I decided I didn’t like the woods.”
She took a long sip from her coffee and Lydia could tell almost immediately that she was trying to hide her smile at the dumbstruck faces the boys were making.
“You’re serious?” Morgan asked, glancing at Lydia who was holding a hand over her mouth to also mask her smile, though it wasn’t very convincing.
JJ gave Morgan a long look, before finally saying, “No.”
Lydia snickered at their change in posture. “Come on guys, that was total bullshit.”
“You fell for that?” JJ teased. “Come on. I don’t know why I’m afraid of the woods. I just… I am. Why is he still afraid of the dark?” she demanded, turning on Spencer.
“Yeah, Reid,” Morgan joined. “Why are you still afraid of the dark?”
“Because of the inherent absence of light,” he replied.
“Oh,” JJ said, sarcastically.
“JJ, that was pretty good,” Morgan complimented. “I can’t believe you were in on it, Lydia. Just know that paybacks are a bitch.”
“I’m shaking,” JJ mocked.
Suddenly, Morgan flipped onto Lydia. “So, out with it. What was your childhood fear?”
Lydia stammered for a moment. “Oh! I hadn’t even thought about it. I guess… getting kicked out of school was one of the big ones for me.”
“You getting kicked out?” he laughed. “Come on, kiddo. You can do better.”
“I got into a couple of fights,” she defended and he shook his head.
“No way. You can’t play me like JJ did.”
“I’m not!” She was laughing now, too. “I was an angry child until I went away to college! But I knew how difficult it would be for my family if I got expelled so every time I got sent to the principal I was terrified of getting kicked out.”
“I don’t believe you!” he argued, leaning forward to grab his ringing phone. “You’re a total liar!”
Lydia rolled her eyes dramatically at the other two. She knew Spencer believed her, but she wasn’t sure with JJ. She couldn’t blame Morgan for dismissing it. She had changed a lot since then. Even when they first met, when she was still grieving Jenna, she hadn’t been as physical or offstandish as she’d been in high school, so he really hadn’t seen her in action.
“Yeah… Hey girl, you got something good for me?... Two?... Okay, but which one of the victims? Why don’t you coordinate with the Ozona coroner’s office for a match?...” Morgan’s eyebrows knit together as he listened to Garcia. “Yeah, he’s a local guidance counselor helping us on this case… I know exactly how to find him, Garcia. Thanks.”
“Don’t tell me-,” Lydia began, but Morgan was already hopping up and ready to go.
“James Charles’s fingerprints were on those food containers.”
~ ~ ~
They drove out, leaving Lydia to search his house while they brought him into custody. She did a glancing sweep of all the rooms but nothing stood out to her. The profile claimed the guy was meticulous. And the Charles household did not reflect that.
She found the cleanest room was his son’s bedroom. Jeffrey Charles. His mom had left him and his dad 6 months ago. And now all his classmates were dying horribly. That must be scary.
Oh no… and JJ had to pull him out of school now that his dad was in custody. Even scarier.
She wandered a moment more, building herself up to inevitably tear this house apart. And then, Spencer called her.
“What’s up?”
“Is Jeffrey there? At the house?”
“What?” she exclaimed. “No. I would have called you if I was babysitting a child.”
“He’s not at school either.”
“You guys thinking Charles killed his own kid?”
“It’s suspect. JJ and I are going to meet up with you.”
“Got it.”
And after a few minutes they did. JJ looked around upstairs and Lydia started a more thorough search around the kitchen. Turns out, there was a lot to learn from kitchens on this case. She opened the fridge and was very startled to find many of the products inside sealed with duct tape. Similar to the duct tape on all the creamed spinach at the Finnegan place.
“Weird,” Spencer mumbled behind her.
“What is it?” she asked, not even turning around. “I bet mine’s weirder.”
“Epi pen,” he muttered, walking into the kitchen and looking over her shoulder. He stared at the fridge for a moment, eyebrows scrunching together. “I… guess I’ll call Gideon.”
Lydia shut the refrigerator door, listening to him explain to Gideon what they’d found.
“Do you think the kid could have done this?” she asked, quietly. It was a protective measure. No adult would cover things they were allergic to. The duct tape was to stop a kid from doing something harmful. And if Jeffrey was the one with the allergy, he’s the one who’s been hiding in the Finnegan house.
“Gideon will figure it out,” Spencer assured her, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Let’s just keep searching.”
~ ~ ~
Little Jeffrey Charles was bitter that his dad could help all these kids at school with their problems and couldn’t sit down and talk to him about his mom. So, once the baseball season was up and he was still craving the physical release, he walked into the woods with his friend Robbie Davis and beat him to death.
Maybe Robbie was teasing him or making him angry. Maybe he hadn’t meant to hit him the first time. Maybe there was more to it that they didn’t understand…
But Lydia had to go home knowing that she’d never get more answers for that. Little Jeffrey Charles was going to be sent away for a long time. That was it.
The jet was silent, JJ sleeping across the couch, Gideon looking over one file or another, and Morgan listening to something in earbuds. Lydia and Spencer were sitting beside one another, looking off distantly, lost in their own heads. That was until Lydia’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she saw Spencer glancing at her in her peripheral vision.
Spencer: You said I could text?
It took her a moment to remember what he was talking about. When Gideon had interrupted them earlier, she told him to text her if he wanted to talk about Elle. She smiled slightly and nodded at him, knowing no one would notice the strange interaction between the two.
Spencer: I should have said something.
Spencer: I talked to Elle that night, and I knew she wasn’t right, but I didn’t tell anyone.
He thought he hadn’t been enough of a friend. He was the only person to notice that Elle was unhappy and to talk to her about it and he’s putting her reaction on himself. Because he didn’t tell anyone. Lydia was quick to respond before he could continue to beat himself up about it.
Don’t do that to yourself. You were helping a friend. Elle’s decisions, whether justified or not, are on her.
Spencer: Maybe Hotch could have talked to her.
Maybe she could have talked to Hotch, she fired back. Maybe I’m not the best person to tell you this, but when someone’s standing on a ledge, your ability to talk them down depends on them, not you. Sometimes people make themselves so closed off, that not even holding them up yourself can save them.
Spencer: Elle wasn’t unreachable.
She still isn’t. But perhaps one day she will be. I’m not saying don’t keep reaching. I’m telling you that if she gets to that point, she made the step. You didn’t push her.
Lydia hadn’t expected a response to that. Especially not a real one. Spencer was so careful about their relationship. Months later, and he was still scared of the team being a part of it.
She could respect that, of course. Although this had been their first case together as a couple, she was relieved to find it completely professional. No weird teasing from the team. No worried eyes from Hotch and Gideon. They were perfectly normal.
But a couple beats after sending that message, Spencer’s eyes scanned the room to make sure no one was looking, then reached out and squeezed her hand appreciatively.
And she really wished they could stay like that for the rest of the flight.
~ ~ ~
Tags: @kris-stuff​ @wooya1224
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waveridden · 3 years
Note
Character ask: Margarito Nava and/or SCORES BASERUNNER :0c
oh GOOD questions. i do feel the need to disclaim like... if you’re not familiar with me... i have some particular takes on flowers lore (also hey if you’re following me and you haven’t read tam’s jacob haynes study you should read it and tell them how good it is, because oh my god, it’s so good) anyways my point is i’m gonna do this but it might not be what you expect. throwing under a cut bc it’s long
margarito nava
favorite thing about them
i love a good team captain... also xe seems like a tacky fashion icon and i always love that in a character
least favorite thing about them
i think margo is like... a better coach than a captain. being able to help people is different from being able to lead them
favorite moment
isn’t xe a fire eater. i fucking love that shit. my favorite character on every team is their fire eater
brOTP
beck!! i just really love the idea that they’re like... still in touch and close
OTP
it’s nic i wrote 9k about it obviously it’s nic
nOTP
i am not here to yuck any yums but i did see margo/inez at one point. i am no expert but it is my understanding that inez is bees. i have questions
random headcanon
talked about this on my nagomi post but like nagomi and margarito are twins and the flowers all know this and they’re all like oh cool margo’s sister is here! nagomi is very confused by this because the beams don’t treat margo like this
unpopular opinion
i don’t know the popular opinions uh. i think that margo needs a co-captain i think like... part of the problems that beck had as captain/coach/Everything were that she couldn’t do it all by herself and from an in-fiction perspective i find it hard to believe that whoever is captain next wouldn’t want help in order to prevent a similar kind of burnout. my proposal for co/deputy captain candidates are nic, scores, and hiroto
song i associate with them
margaritaville
also an aside from my personal life, the best thing that another person has ever said to me is “every time i look at you i just hear margaritaville in my head”
favorite picture of them
i am incredibly partial to this fanart purely bc i want that shirt
#
#
scores baserunner
favorite thing about them
i’m going to be straight up i don’t know a lot about scores but i think her lore is ADORABLE... she just loves blaseball so much she named herself after it...
least favorite thing about them
not to be controversial or mean but does she have like... genuine character flaws because i don’t think “too smart” or “too nerdy” count
favorite moment
i do not know enough about scores to comment
brOTP, OTP, nOTP
lumping all these together because the short version is that i don’t have any. the long version is i would have to think about it but my knee-jerk idea is that she is friends with sandie turner (fellow mermaid!) and nandy fantastic (very cool fashionable person!) and honestly i think the ot3 there has potential. also she’s trans and she’s bi but it’s an abcd/anyone but cis dudes kind of bi
random headcanon
autistic. also really really likes spicy food
unpopular opinion
no comment
song i associate with them
i don’t have a specific song but like her spotify wrapped was all just disney channel original movie soundtracks
favorite picture of them
the art on the wiki is cute but also that person who’s been doing undertale sprites on twitter did a cute one of her!
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snowbellewells · 4 years
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Face to Face in the Broad Daylight ~ the end
Here it is at long last -- the conclusion to my @cssns​19 werewolf saga! Never would I have thought it would take me so long to complete, but after two years of work and two complete MCs in this world, I honestly think I was having a hard time saying goodbye to these versions of all of them. (Particularly this Graham and this Belle, who I honestly didn’t expect to steal so much of my affection.) Still, I'm sorry those who have been following this had to wait so long! Thanks you so much for reading and for sticking with me on this venture. Enjoy the happy ending (beginning)! :)
Plus, kudos and thanks once more to @branlovestowrite​ for this gorgeous fic cover, that I STILL can’t stop staring at!!! <3
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This full story from the beginning can be found here or on AO3.  As can its predecessor “Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)” from @cssns​18 - here and on AO3 or ff.net.
Summary: A werewolf au and alternate season two and beyond fic from the @cssns​ event.  Should probably read the first story in the series, "Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)", or it might be a bit confusing in places. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we may also see them get into some new surprises and challenges, and of course we need to see if Rumplestiltskin is still under control or back to his usual scheming and plotting....
~ epilogue: two very happy beginnings
After all the trouble and fear which had preceded their birth, and the risk their mother had endured to deliver them, there was nothimg but bliss surrounding Belle and Graham’s newborns once they arrived. Both were peaceful and content babies, seeming fit and healthy and perfectly adorable in every way - no furry toes, lupine ears, or anything else which one might have wondered about with such unusual origins and accelerated gestation. All of their organs and extremities were fully formed and working well; an immense relief to their mother and father, who were already desperately enamored of them, and the friends and makeshift family who had gathered around them in support.
In fact, the only real hint at their supernatural heritage was that both already had adorable ringlets of a deep russet brown, much the same color as Belle’s, though the curls were all Graham at his most disheveled, when fingers had been carded through it repeatedly. Both had the most adorable, cherubic chubby-cheeked faces that anyone who looked on them would agree they had ever seen, and they had charmed nearly every nurse in the ward where Belle had been moved for observation during her recovery, with barely more than a blink, a gurgle, or the single wave of a pudgey little hand. It seemed - much to the dismay of their numerous new admirers - that Belle would almost certainly be cleared to leave soon, as she seemed to be mending remarkably well.
In the meantime, however, Graham had taken a full paternity leave from the station in order to fuss over her protectively to his own satisfaction, promoting Emma to acting sheriff for the time being, and her dad and her wolf man both as deputies. Belle had tried to reason that it wasn’t necessary, that she was in good hands, and that she already felt much better, but he was having none of it; intent on being right by her side and at her beck and call with an almost desperate physical need. He come so close to losing her - her and the two precious pups he already loved more than life. He could not fathom how he would have survived if Belle had not. Even for someone who had spent much of his life in a solitary, isolated existence, loneliness still threatened to choke and suffocate him at the thought of losing her; the one person who had ever eased his burden and truly felt his pain - because, in many ways, it had been her own as well. The very idea of her presence fading from the world was overwhelming.
On rounding the corner into the hallway for his love’s room, he could hear raised voices and raucous laughter. Brow furrowing immediately, and hand rather damagingly tightening its clutch on the bag of chocolate croissants and takeaway cup of hot tea Belle had wheedled him into fetching for her, Graham’s hackles rose unbidden as he doubled his pace.  Granted, the uproar sounded pleasant enough, but it wasn’t what he had expected to encounter upon his return, and Belle needed her rest, not well-meaning visitors overexciting her and wearing her out. Though he knew he was being ridiculous and bordering on driving Belle crazy with his caution and concern for her health, he couldn’t do much to stop the unbidden reactions that kept rising within him either. 
Wheeling into the room, ready to show her visitors out, Graham stopped short at the collection of people crowded into the small space, and Belle in the center of it all, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and the happiest smile as she looked up to greet him.
“You’re back,” she crooned warmly, holding out her delicate hand for him to take, as well as to pull him closer. “Look! Can you believe this? Everyone wanted to see the twins and bring them gifts.”
Mary Margaret, at the foot of Belle’s bed, beamed at him and then Belle once more in turn. “Well, that is the best part of knowing someone with a little one,” she chipped in mischievously, “getting to spoil them with all the cutest toys and clothes.” 
Her husband beside her chuckled, his hand shaking with his mirth even as he pulled her into his side to affectionately press his lips to the top of her head. “Only you, Sweetheart,” he teased.
Henry practically bounced on the balls of his feets between his grandparents and his mom and Killian, clutching a gift bag he clearly hadn’t yet been able to give to Belle.
Ducking his head, Graham flushed at the thought that he had been about to banish them all from the room. One look at their faces showed they meant nothing but to help them both celebrate the joyous arrivals and Belle’s recovery; not to mention that one needed only to glance at the new mother for a second to see the good their visit had done.
Glancing sheepishly at his former liege, Graham nodded respectfully to Mary Margaret. “Thank you, truly, your Majesties, but… you didn’t have to do this… I mean, my Queen… Um, er, Snow?” Though both she and Charming had repeatedly let him know that bowing and formality were unnecessary, it was an adaptation the former Huntsman was still making, with varied amounts of success.
Snow reached out to press his upper arm with her hand, assuring him that the pleasure had been theirs, which he was grateful for - even as Emma and Killian on one side of the bed, and Ruby and Granny on the other, were set to laughing once more at his expense. Her husband smiled at her genuinely; that wide, magnanimous smile which let a person know that he was understood, that all was well, that he was seen and cared for by those called to rule and wear the crown of royalty - even if, in this world, that mark of leadership took the form of a deputy’s badge rather than a throne and lavish finery.
Taking pity on his awkward tendency in larger groups, Belle beckoned her love closer still, a gentle and knowing smile on her lips. “Maybe you’d like to help me make our announcement, since everyone seems to be here anyway,” she suggested, gazing up at Graham in sweet affection despite the heated blush that stole across his neck and the tips of his ears, though his stubble hid the pink of his cheeks.
Her sheriff nodded eagerly, knowing that their gathered group of friends and loved ones would be excited to hear the news, and he hoped, touched as well by the small gesture of thanks he and Belle were offering in return for their kindness and loyalty. To his mind, it could never come close to being enough, but it was something. Clasping Belle’s hand in his as he reached her side, Graham brought it up to his mouth, laying soft, chaste kisses to her knuckles one by one as they were intertwined by his own.
Looking back up into the faces of the fiercely protective tribe gathered round them, the man who had once faced the world completely alone found it particularly fitting that the twins were in the arms of Ruby and Emma. Since the little declaration they were about to make would touched those two fierce women most, it seemed almost kismet that those two would already be holding the little boy and girl. 
“As Belle already mentioned,” Graham began, a grin making its way across his face in spite of his dislike for the center of attention. This joyous moment was different, and he found himself almost beaming as those gathered before him looked up curiously at his words. “We have a couple of things we’d like to tell you. Seeing that we might not have reached this point so happily without all of you, it seemed only right that you be the first ones to know. These two cuties you’re all busy cuddling and spoiling within an inch of their lives…” At that, he gestured to the two happily gurgling littles ones, and his audience chuckled, knowing he had them with the spoiling. “These two new arrivals have names at last. Belle and I would very much like you to officially meet Rose Red and Hunter Henry.”
Oohs and ahhs over the perfection and adorability of their choices broke out all around, though no one’s enthusiasm was felt more than Henry’s. At hearing that the little boy cradled in his mom’s arms was sharing his first name for a middle one, Henry’s eyes bugged wide in sparkling excitement. Thrilled and bouncing even more than he had been previously, the young prince looked to Belle sweetly, thrilled beyond all reasoning. “You - you named him for me?” he repeated in awe.
Belle nodded, the smile she offered her young friend both kind and affectionately indulgent. Her eyes were more than a bit wide and glazed with a sheen of unshed tears as she wrapped him up in the hug he offered. “Of course we did!” she whispered in his ear emphatically. “You brought all of us back to our real selves with your belief. Who wouldn’t want their little ones to have a heart like yours?”
Graham leaned over to envelop them both in a fierce hug too before Henry and Belle could separate. His own voice was husky and rasped with stark emotion, but he spoke over the lump of feeling to second Belle’s response. “You were a light when so many of us had little else in this place - not even our true selves. You should know what a hero you are by now.”
Henry shook his head in disbelief, having a hard time swallowing such praise, even as it sent a wide, crooked smile across his face and pride stir within him. Yet, as he glanced around at everyone else in the room, they were nodding and affirming their agreement - from Ruby beaming at him widely, to his grandma’s teary joy, to his mom and Killian standing together, with his mom mouthing ‘He’s right, you are’ to him with a look of such parental approval and love that Henry hardly knew how to handle it.
Chuckling good naturedly, Ruby reached out to ruffle his hair, something he had begun to protest his mom doing (he wasn’t a little kid anymore!) but which didn’t seem to bother him when the pretty brunette werewolf did it. Her teasing and bright, toothy smile made the usual gripe die on his tongue and a flush creep up his neck instead. “Well, I’m not sure I’m even half so deserving as Henry,” Ruby jested, “but I’m still touched you’d put ‘Red’ in there for a middle name too.”
“Well…” Graham paused, drawing out his next words dramatically as he flicked yet another look over at Belle who nodded eagerly, biting back a giggle at the glint of mischief in his eye and at how happily surprised they were about to make her vivacious new friend. “It seemed only fair she carry a nod to one of her two godmothers in her name. That is… if you and Emma agree to take on that role.”
Ruby squealed with barely contained glee, stopping herself just in time from jumping up and down in her excitment and jostling the little girl dozing in her arms. “Are you serious?” she asked, dark eyes wide in awe and genuine surprise. “Me?... Truly?!?”
Belle clutched her hand, reaching out with kind approbation. “Truly and absolutely… we’d be honored.”
After a moment weighted with feeling and acceptance, all three turned their faces to Emma, who was blinking rapidly as she glanced up from Hunter’s cherubic countenance to return their gaze, and nodded wordlessly, offering a tremulous smile to her friends before finally managing to croak out, “Me too… absolutely.”
That afternoon took on a golden-tinged glow for all of them in reminiscence. Looking back on it at any time afterwards, that moment just after the twins’ birth was one of those scarce ones that only come along ever so rarely, where everything seems right as it should. A moment meant to be frozen and kept sacred in the mind’s eye, one to treasure.
Even after life began to shift back to normal, they were forever altered - and despite the difficulty and danger they’d weathered - for the better. After recuperating (much longer than she had wished, at Graham’s and her other friends’ insistence) Belle returned to her beloved library, helping anyone who stepped into her sanctuary find the story they sought. Graham eventually stemmed the flow of stifling overprotectiveness and desire to watch over his love at every moment, and returned to his post and duties as sheriff, taking care of the town that had become his home - the people in it more family than he had even been gifted by birth.
And though it might have been a reluctant parting at first, both of them rested in the assurance that either godmother they left their children with had successfully fought both villains and monsters, and would do so again for their young. If Emma had the day off from the station, she often took the twins out on the waves with Killian in his ship, their childish giggles and squeals showing signs of them coming to love the wind and waves almost as much as the trees and shadowed clearings of the forest. If Emma was working, Ruby or Granny were more than happy to entertain and look after Rose and Hunter. Ruby had been known to set them both on the diner counter in their car seats when she was hostess, making faces at them in play and allowing pretty much everyone in the town who entered Granny’s to fall in love with them. Or sometimes Granny would rock them gently, one in each arm, in an old rocker situated in the corner of her upstairs office. Though she had mostly recovered from Morgana’s attack, her older joints didn’t have the healing powers they had once possessed, and she simply couldn’t stay on her feet in the kitchens all day as she once had. She was more than pacified in her occasional relegation to the quiet room to keep the books and check tourists into the inn by the presence of the two little ones where she could have them all to her self and tell them old stories, just as she had once done for Ruby and Graham years ago.
And Emma… well, she and Killian understood quite well what would bring both their sheriff and librarian back to the service of their strange little fairy tale town in whatever way they felt called. The sense of belonging to and affection for a place both of them had once considered themselves “only passing through” or arrived in by mistake was uncannily right, all the way down to their sinew and bones. When Emma’s deputy shifts ended in the afternoon or early evening, she found herself with a wealth of options - more people to see and things to do than she would have ever imagined for herself. On days when she was finished by three, she sometimes strolled over to the school to meet Henry and her mother and walk to her parents’ loft with them for an afternoon snack - or if it was raining, she might pick them up in the Bug. Occasionally, she drove over to the animal shelter where her father was now office manager and spent time with her dad - the novelty of that, which she had wished for so often in her growing up years, never seemed to wear thin. Moreover as well as growing closer and closer to her dad, she was growing more and more tempted with each visit to adopt the large, saucy tomcat that always greeted her with his vocal purring as she arrived and reached her hand into his enclosure to stroke his sleek, beautifully striped fur and scratch behind his ears.
“Who’s a good boy?” she found herself crooning more often than not, to her dad’s chuckling over her shoulder.
“Oh, he is - and he knows it!” Prince Charming offered. “He’s been here nearly six months now. His owner trained him well - loved him and spoiled him rotten truthfully - but she passed away... Antonio, I believe she called him.”
Emma snorted, “Must have been a Shrek fan,” she mumbled under her breath, now offering him gentle scritches under his chin.
“What’s that?” her dad asked, a puzzled tilt to his head.
“Oh, never mind,” Emma waved her hand. “Just another movie woven into this place with a tie to fairy tales, but I doubt you’ve seen it. The Puss in Boots character in it is voiced by an actor named Antonio.”
Her father chuckled, shaking his head at his own oblivious ignorance, long used to such occurences happening by that point. “Gotcha. Well, regardless, he definitely likes you, and he’d be good company. Plus, a good mouser on a pirate ship…?”
Emma cut her eyes to her father with a wry smile, both knowing what he was hinting at, and that he was digging for more info. “Subtle, Dad… real subtle.”
Yet it didn’t stop her from carrying said ‘mouser’ in her arms when she headed out that night as her dad locked up. The adoption paperwork was folded and stuffed into her back pocket, and she knew Killian would be equally as charmed by the handsome feline as she had been. Even as she and her father parted ways and she set off on her path to the docks, shaking her head at her own softheartedness, she knew that her wolf man would welcome her pet with open arms. He had even more of a weakness for lonely creatures in need of a home than she did.
The moonlight glittered off the dark waters of Storybrooke harbor, where the Jolly Roger was now permanently berthed. Pausing on the wooden planks of the dock, Emma gazed up at the ship, seeing her sailor standing on board, bathed in the ethereal glow and staring up at the stars overhead. His magnificent old ship had come to seem like her home too; she practically lived there with him for all intents and purposes. 
Something warm swelled within her chest as Killian turned at the sound of her approach and smiled down at her in welcome. “I’ve brought you a new recruit,” she offered playfully, stepping up to the gangplank where he could see the animal nestled happily in her arms.
“Well now, Lass,” Killian murmured, a pleased smile teasing at his firm, supple mouth as he took in the purring tabby. “It’s been some years since we’ve had a good mouser aboard the Jolly. He’s an admirable find for certain.” His wink along with the words made her blush, even with such a light and playful conversation.
Holding out his hand to help her aboard, Emma thrilled at the gentle pressure of her pirate’s fingers wrapped around her smaller ones. As she reached his side on deck, she leaned into Killian’s sturdy frame while his arms encircled her and his spicy scent enveloped her senses, the rightness of the moment and them together and their place in their world - home at long last - could not be any clearer. Their port was set, wherever they might sail.
Tagging: @cssns​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @spartanguard​ @laschatzi​ @therooksshiningknight​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @gingerchangeling​ @winterbaby89​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @hollyethecurious​ @artistic-writer​ @lfh1226-linda​ @searchingwardrobes​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @thisonesatellite​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @thislassishooked​
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hebled · 5 years
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Coming  to  Hope  County  had  been  a  spur  of  the  moment  thing - he’d  had  NO  idea  that the  things   surrounding  Jericho  were  QUITE  so  bad . Even  when  he’d  be  confronted  by  the  facts - he’d  still  found  himself  DETERMINED  to  be  there  for  her  until  the  end , He  was  a  fighter - he  was  going  to  fight .
It  wasn’t  HARD . The  majority  of  the  project  members  weren’t  TRAINED  in  any  way ,  the  issue  was  simply  the  pure  VOLUME  of  them . It  seemed  as  though  for  as  many  outposts  they  tore  DOWN , two  more  sprung  back  up . Beck  was  watching  the  entire  thing  takes  it’s  toll  on  Jeri ; it  was  AGONY  watching  his  best  friend  suffer  in  the  way  that  she  was .
The  day  was  the  same  as  most  others . The  resistence  worked  as  a  team - Jericho  was  the  LEADER  of  that , &&  she  took  time  to  make  sure  that  she  was  doing  it  properly . Beck  stands  guard  wherever  she  goes - she  can  look  after  HERSELF  for the  majority ,  but  he’s  there  whenever  she  can’t . When  her  attention  is  elsewhere .
He  rolls  his  shoulders , gun  perched  on  relaxed  arms - eyes  scanning  the  surroundings  from  behind  DARK  sunglasses . There’s  a  soft  breeze ruffling  his  hair , cigarette  hanging  from  his  lips  lazily  as  he  only  HALF  listens  to  the  murmuring  in  the  building  behind  him . He’d  attended  enough  of  them  by  now  to  know  what  was  going  on  in  there - &&  if  he  were  honest , he  MUCH  preferred  to  be  out  here - hired  muscle .
He  sees  them  before  they  even  BREACH  the  horizon , figures  shimmering  in  the  heat  that  rises  from  the  baking  tarmac . Beck lifts  his  chin , smoke  TWITCHING  - fingers  doing  the  same  on  the  rifle . “ Who’ve we got . “  He  shoots  a  look  over  his  shoulder  towards  the door  that  Jeri  is  on  the  other  side  of . He  ponders  for a   moment  whether  he  should TELL  her . But  decides  in  a  hot  second  that  he’s  got it .
Steps  are  taken  down  the  steps  from  the  veranda , out  into  the  CENTRE  of  the  road . There  seemed  to  be  only  three  of  them , &&  although  a  tense  frown  comes  over  his  face - he’s pretty  sure  that  the  situation  will  be  over  before  it  even  starts . He  was  right - just  NOT  how  he  wanted  to  be .
A  sharp  WHISTLE  leaves  the  side  of  his  mouth . He  spits  his  cigarette  to  the  ground  in  front  of  him - treading  it  into  the  floor  as  he  moves  onwards ,  barrel lifting  to  point  at  the  newcomers  to  the  party . “  Careful now guys I  have  enough  bullets  for - “ He stops . Eyes  widen  a  little  as  something  clicks  in  his  head .  He  knows  one  of  them - at  least  from  DESCRIPTIONS  &&  photographs . John Seed .
His  hands  grip  TIGHTER  around  his  weapon -  stopping  squarely  a  couple  of  dozen  feet  away  from  the  Herald   &&  his  lackeys . He  should  have  fired  off  a   shot  into  the  man’s  head  -  but   he  has  his  hands  raised , &&  Beck’s  code  gets  the  best  of  him . “ Why  are  you  here? “  He  asks - voice  growling  just  a  little .
He  doesn’t  get  an  answer . His  feet  are  gone  from  beneath  him  in  an Instant - his  FACE  hitting  the  ground  with  a muffled  grunt .  Hands  push  , SHAKING  , into  the  ground - finding  purchase  to  lift  himself  to  his  knees . He’s  reminded  of when  he’d  first  arrived  there -  This  SCENE  replicated  so  similarly . Except  those  had  been  JERI’S  people - he’d  been  unknowingly  safe . Now ?
A  foot  finds  Beck’s  face . He  lands  on  his  back  this  time , blood filling his  mouth  - SPLUTTERING  a  little  as  he  tries  to  surface  from  the  pain . They’d  broken  his  nose . But  he’d  be  fine  if  that  was  all  they  did . One  hand  comes  up - a  surrender .  This  had  been  a  mistake . He  should  have told  her . They  were  a team .  His  splayed  fingers  block  the  sun  from  eyes  now  free  of  his  sunglasses -  until  a  SHADOW  comes  over  him .
Strong  hands  grip  at  the  shoulders  of  his  shirt -  PULLING  him  along  the  gravel  ,  further  &&  FURTHER  away  from  safety . Sharp  stones  cut  into  delicate  skin  over  his  spine - Beck  struggles ,  feet  KICKING  in  some  attempt  to  wriggle  free.  The  attempt  grants  him  ANOTHER  kick . The  world  goes  black -  jumps  back  into life  spinning .  He’s  lifted  from  the  ground ,  thrown  to  his  KNEES .  “ Please . “ The  word  is  twisted  by  the  liquid  in  his  throat .
There’s  a  strong  scent  of  cologne   as  somebody  moves  behind  him . The  Seed  sibling  is  just  a  MAN , But  Beck  can  now  see  that  there’s  a  reason  that  everyone  is  so  fucking  SCARED  by  him . “ I’ve been  watching  you . “ John’s  voice  is  in  his  ear - something  sharp  pressed  into  the  tattoo  on  Beck’s  throat . It  FEELS  like  a  long  blade .
“ Did  you like what you - what you saw ? “ The venom  in  Beck’s  voice  radiates  WAY  above any  struggle  to  speak .  The  knife  presses  harder  into  his  skin - not  YET  breaking  it .
“ You’re  a  means  to  an  end “ John  spits - &&  a  chuckle  leaves  him  that’s  beyond  evil , The  hair  on  Beck’s  arms  stand  on  end  when  he  hears  it . He can  see  the  cabin  that  Jeri  was  inside  of  - taking  a deep  breath  as  if  to  SOB  at  the  idea  of  her  at  risk ,  but  only  managing  to  CHOKE  on  the  blood  that  pours  down  his  throat  at  an  alarming  rate . “ Let’s  SEE what  you  MEAN  to  the  good  ol’  deputy - huh ? “  There’s  a pause . “ Call  to  her . “
Tears  well  in  Beck’s  eyes . He  shakes  his  head - the  blade  cutting  a  little  into  him  as  he  does  so . It  doesn’t  HURT . There’s  an  anger  burning  SO  hot  inside  of  him  that  he’s  SURE  that  he’s  going to  burst  into  flames . There  was  NO  way  he  was  going  to  give  her  up - not  NOW . Not  after  managing  to  keep  her  safe  this  long . Not  after  she’d  become  so  PRECIOUS  to  him . “ CALL to  her . “ He  says  again . Darker - harsher . “ Or  we  blow  up  the  entire  building  right  now . “
Beck  Swallows,  the  blade  moves  so  that  John’s  arm  covered  in  a  blue  shirt  rolled  up  to  the  eblow  is  wrapped  around  his  neck , READY  to  slice  him  open  like  an  animal  if  he  makes  the  wrong  move . Hands  by  his  side  are  shaking , She’s  so  far  away . He  wants  to  scoop  her  up  in  his  arms  &&  tell  him  he’s  been  stupid  for  lying  to  himself  for  so  LONG .
“ JERI ? JERICHO “  The  name  hurts - the  cry  conveys  every  amount  of  emotion  he’s  held  in  for  so  long .  It  RIPS  from  his  throat  like  a  bandaid  from  a  wound . Eyes  close - open  slowly  to  watch  the  door  of  the  cabin . At  least  he’ll  get  to  see  her  face  one  last  time .
F O R   @markeddeputy​
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kingpigeon · 6 years
Link
Fandom: Overwatch
Pairing: Moira/Mercy
Rating: Explicit (for future smut)
Summary:  Five years ago, Moira O'Deorain was dealing with the dissolution of Overwatch and the end of her marriage to Angela Ziegler. In the time since, she’s accomplished more than any of her detractors would have dreamed possible. With the resources of Oasis and Talon at her beck and call, no one can hold her research back anymore. But when Oasis is attacked and Angela unexpectedly reenters Moira’s life, things get complicated.
Tags: Reconciliation, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst, Mutual Pining, Post-Divorce Setting
Excerpt below:
Angela couldn’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief as the seemingly endless desert finally gave way to signs of civilization. The armored van she was riding in, which had been jostling about as it drove over dunes and was battered by wind, ran smoother now that there was proper road to drive on. In the distance she could see Oasis coming better into view—it had been on the edge of the horizon for what felt like the longest time, but only now was she finally able to make out distinct shapes of its skyline. The sun was beating down on the gold and marble of the city’s towers, and from this far away it seemed almost like a shimmering mirage.
She imagined that it would look even more opulent once they got in the city itself. Oasis wasn’t known for its modesty. Angela had seen pictures, but pictures often paled in comparison to the real thing, and she was sure that this would be no exception. She was determined not to come across as a starry-eyed tourist, though, no matter how impressive everything turned out to be. She was here on business, after all.
From the backseat, Peter let out a low whistle. He leaned forward, peering through the windshield to get a better view of the approaching city. The glare of the sun ahead of them reflected off the lenses of his eyeglasses. “Hell of a view, huh Ziegler?”
“It’s beautiful,” Angela said softly. “A bit surreal, seeing so much gold in the middle of the desert.”
Peter barked out a laugh and sat back again. “No kidding. It’s even weirder once you’re inside, I promise. Feels like you’re in a different country.”
“Do you come here often?”
“Not so much, but I’ve been a handful of times. An old friend of mine does R&D in the Ministry of Chemistry, so if I’m in the neighborhood I like to drop in. But it’s such a hassle to get here, you know?”
Angela nodded distractedly. “A ten hour drive through the desert isn’t anyone’s idea of a good time, I’m sure.”
“Although that’s the point, I guess. A city like this wasn’t built to be a tourist trap—those Ministers like their privacy and all. Still, I can’t believe you’ve never been before.”
“I suppose I just never got around to it.”
Somehow, the prospect of crossing the Iraqi desert to visit a city partially run by her ex-wife hadn’t particularly appealed to Angela Ziegler. As a doctor and a scientist she’d always wanted to see Oasis, but never so much that she could justify the risk of running into Moira again.
Peter gave her a sympathetic look. He almost undoubtedly knew about Moira—it would have been in Angela’s dossier. “Well this’ll be a treat. You’ll have plenty of time to sightsee.”
Angela stared straight ahead and tapped at her knee in an uneven rhythm. She’d been able to keep herself distracted well enough in preparation for this trip, but she was quickly becoming overcome with nerves. This afternoon’s meeting on its own would be a non-issue, but Angela and Peter would be in Oasis for a full three days. That was a lot of time to fill, and Angela wasn’t sure that she’d be able to avoid Moira for all of them. She wasn’t even sure that avoiding her was what she really wanted to do. As with all things related to Moira, Angela’s feelings were complicated.
She settled into an uneasy silence for the rest of the ride, lost in thoughts about the past.
*
They were met at the border of the city by staff from the Ministry of Security. Angela smiled at them as they approached, but it wasn’t returned. As some officers went around the back of the van to search their bags and another checked her driver’s documentation, a woman in a crisp navy pantsuit walked up to Angela’s door. She knocked once on the window and held her hand out for Angela’s ID once it was lowered. Peter passed his forward as well.
The woman inspected both before handing them back and finally cracking a smile. “Dr. Ziegler and Deputy Commissioner Halleran, welcome to Oasis.”
“Thank you,” Angela answered. She looked back at an officer who was picking through the contents of her suitcase. “This is quite a welcome party.”
Peter spoke up. “You were expecting us, yes? Our schedules didn’t get crossed or anything?”
“Not at all,” the woman assured him. “This is simply procedure. You can never be too careful these days.”
“You mean after the bombs?” Angela asked.
The corner of the woman’s mouth twitched slightly, and her eyes hardened a bit. She probably found it in poor taste for Angela to explicitly mention the incident. “Exactly. But not to worry, you’ll be safe here.”
Angela knew better than to believe a false promise like that. She’d spent too many years in the thick of war to ever think that anyone was safe anywhere. But it would be condescending to say that, so instead she pocketed her ID card and said, “I’m sure we will be. Thank you again.”
The woman gestured for the two of them to exit the van and helped Angela down. “I radioed the Ministers that you were here as soon as we saw your van driving up. We’ll be taking you right to the meeting from here. We have a car past the checkpoint if you’ll follow me.”
“Ministers, as in plural?” Peter asked as he hopped down onto the sand. “I thought we were just meeting with Amir.”
“There’s been a change in schedule,” the woman explained as she waved their van off to a nearby refueling station. “Security Minister El-Shazli will be attending instead of Minister Amir, and he’ll be joined by Ministers Al-Shahrani and O’Deorain.”
Angela nearly stopped in her tracks. Even under the glaring sun, she still felt something like a shiver run through her body. Moira was going to be in her meeting? She was going to be there, looking at Angela, maybe even speaking to her? The concept made no sense. This was a humanitarian petition; it was a meeting that was going to focus around families and good faith and appealing to the sympathy of her audience. This was exactly the type of meeting that Moira would have gone to great lengths to miss. Did she know that Angela would be there, too? The appointment had only been made for Peter originally—Angela was only brought on to accompany him a few days ago. Orders from on high, she’d been told. That couldn’t possibly mean...
“Why?” she asked, earning a backwards look from Peter and the woman. “I don’t—this is a meeting about refugees. Why does the Minister of Genetics need to be there?”
The woman searched Angela’s face, obviously curious as to what about the news had garnered such a reaction. Maybe she was one of the blessed few who didn’t know about what she and Moira used to be. “That decision’s above my paygrade, ma’am,” she said curtly.
“Of course.” Angela’s voice sounded far-off and small. “I understand.”
Their escort turned on her heel and proceeded to the checkpoint. After being ushered through, they all got into a nondescript black cruiser. It was soundless as it started up, with miniaturized jump jet technology propelling the tires a few inches from the surface of the road.  This invention alone had net Oasis billions in international trade in the past three years since the Ministry of Transportation launched the project.
Peter sensed Angela’s nervousness and helped keep her distracted on the ride over, talking about his chemist friend and listing off recommendations for dinner. Angela appreciated it, but her mind wasn’t truly focused on anything but Moira. They were going to see each other again, after all this time. Under the oddest of circumstances, but that didn’t matter now. Angela didn’t know if she wanted to cry or try to jump out of the car. She was scared, slightly terrified, of seeing Moira. Too much had been said and not said the last time they were together, and Angela had assumed that she’d be going the rest of her life with those regrets at her back. But now? A not entirely small part of her felt something akin to relief.
They were at the Ministry of Security in under ten minutes, having taken access tunnels and side roads that were reserved for Ministry business only. The woman didn’t get out of the car, merely pushed a button that opened the passenger doors and giving Angela and Peter instructions on how to reach their meeting room.
Angela walked through the building in a daze, clutching at her papers like they were her only lifeline. Peter took the lead for her, walking briskly through the Ministry’s long corridors and up the stairs in search of their room. They found it quickly enough.
A tall man with a short military buzz cut and close-cropped dark beard was waiting outside, presumably to greet them. The bright white and gold of his kaftan played off the brown of his skin handsomely, and the Ministry sigil on the arm of it signalled that he was staff. He cocked his head and smiled as Angela and Peter approached. He gave off an easygoing air that most military men lacked, and Angela imagined that he was mistaken for a civilian quite often. But she’d done her research. This was Minister Omar El-Shazli.
“Minister,” she said warmly, trying to push down her nerves and appear normal. She extended her hand for him to shake. “Dr. Angela Ziegler from Médecins Sans Frontières. So good of you to meet us.”
El-Shazli smiled wider and shook. “Of course, I would hardly pass up a chance to meet the famous Mercy herself.”
Angela felt the familiar twinge of annoyance that always cropped up when someone used her old callsign. “I don’t really go by that anymore, I’m afraid.”
“Well, all the same,” he said amiably. “You have some admirers in Oasis. We’re glad to have you here.”
“Admirers?” Angela asked.
“Oh, you’ll meet them in good time, I’m sure.” He gave her hand one more squeeze before turning to Peter. “And Deputy Commissioner Halleran, it’s been too long.”
Peter grinned and clapped El-Shazli on the shoulder. “Omar, good to see you. You look well rested now that you’re out of New York.”
“Well rested now that I don’t have to deal with you on a regular basis, perhaps,” he joked before motioning to the wide double doors behind them. “But come, my colleagues are looking forward to meeting you both.”
Somehow, Angela doubted the truth of that statement.
They were ushered into the conference room from there, and Angela felt oddly light as she crossed the threshold. It was a large room with a polished wood conference table in the center and wide windows that offered a bird’s eye view of the street below. Standing in front of the table was a small woman with a long black braid. Angela had met her before, however briefly, at a World Health Organization symposium years back. Co-founder of Oasis and Minister of Geology, Dr. Anya Al-Shahrani.
And at the edge of the room, eyes locked on Angela, was Moira.
*
Angela’s throat felt dry. She looked out across the conference table at each of the assembled Ministers and felt wholly outmatched. It was silly to feel that way, she knew, but the feeling was there all the same. She was thrown off, too distracted by her proximity to Moira to properly focus on anything else. Moira had managed to not look at Angela once since they had sat down and begun the meeting; Angela hadn’t been so lucky. She was sure that she looked quite ridiculous, staring the way she was. But it was hard not to.
Moira was as alluring as ever. Her hard lines and angles hadn’t softened with time; her cheekbones were still high and defined, mouth still downturned in a natural frown. Her skin didn’t have the unhealthy pallor it used to back when things were getting rough—when Blackwatch was on the brink of falling apart and she and Angela began to lash out at each other for no real reason other than exhaustion and fear. There were freckles, faint but still noticeable, cropping up along her nose and the planes of her cheeks now. Likely due to all the sun in Oasis. Angela thought they were charming, although she knew that Moira found her freckles childish. She still had her trademark red hair, combed back and away from her face. There were strands of gray among the red now, which hadn’t been there before. Angela found it lovely.
Al-Shahrani pulled Angela from her distraction with the question, “And you, Dr. Ziegler? Do you agree with your colleague that Oasis owes residency to these refugees?”
“I do,” Angela said, trying to snap herself back to attention. “Resettlement in Oasis would be in line with the 2064 Iraqi-Jordanian IDP agreement. These refugees are Jordanian nationals; legally, they have a right to come to Iraq.”
“Iraq, yes. Oasis, not necessarily.”
Angela opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Moira.
“Oasis is not subject to the Iraqi government’s laws in any way other than matters that affect our shared border. As such, we’re under no obligation to fulfill any commitments they may have made regarding refugee resettlement.” She raised an eyebrow at Angela expectantly. “But of course you already knew this.”
Angela paused, trying to keep her face expressionless. It had been so long since she’d heard Moira’s voice. “This isn’t a question of legal obligation, Moira. Minister,” Angela corrected quickly, not wanting to seem too informal in front of the rest of them. “Your obligation is a moral one.”
“ Morality is subjective. Oasis isn’t in the business of falling on our swords for charity.”
“Letting a couple dozen people into your city is hardly falling on your sword,” Angela shot back. “These people are doctors. They can help you.”
Moira scoffed. “As if we don’t have doctors here already.”
“I’ve worked with these men and women,” Angela insisted. “They bettered my organization and saved lives and now they want to come to Oasis to keep helping people. Would it be so wrong to let them?”
Peter fidgeted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the way that Angela’s combative tone was goading Moira on. She was getting riled up, she knew, but this was the way that Moira got her. When she was being purposefully difficult, anyway. Peter cleared his throat and pulled some papers from his binder. “I hope you’ll forgive us if we seem overzealous, Minister. Dr. Ziegler and I simply feel quite strongly about these matters.”
Moira cast Peter a withering look and returned to her notes. Peter seemed almost grateful for that, and directed his comments to the other Ministers while Moira scribbled away. Angela couldn’t see what she was writing from so far across the table, but she was almost certain that she was going over lab notes. Moira was notorious for that back when they were still together—going dead to the world and intently writing away at the dinner table, in bed, on vacation. Angela would honestly be surprised if Moira had somehow kicked that habit in the years since.
Angela continued to watch Moira and wondered what, if anything, had changed about her in the past five years. It was a long time, and plenty of things had changed around them since Overwatch had failed. Since their marriage had failed. It would only make sense that Moira was a different person from the one that Angela had known, but she also had a sneaking suspicion that Moira was exactly the same. People like Moira were too stubborn to let the world change them too much. Angela used to think that she was one of those people, too.
Next to Moira, El-Shazli leaned back and appraised the list of headshots and resumes that Peter had brought. “Explain to me, if you will, why these highly qualified persons can’t simply file an application of residency. Why the high level intervention on their behalf?”
“They’ve all applied already,” Angela said, perking up and pulling her attention away from Moira. “Months and months back. They were denied by your Ministry before we agreed to help plead their case.”
“Then that should be the end of the discussion, no?” Minister El-Shazli asked with a lazy smile. “If my people have already determined that these applicants pose a public safety risk…”
Peter shook his head, flipping through his own copies. “None of them were denied on national security grounds, as far as I can tell. Your Ministry keeps your investigation reports rather vague to the public, but denials based on terrorism or public safety concerns also automatically bar them from entering Oasis on a temporary visa. Unless that policy’s changed?”
“It hasn’t.”
“Well all of these applicants applied for short-term research visas, and they were approved. Regardless of why you denied them for permanent residency the first time, it seems that your own Ministry agrees that these people aren’t dangerous.”
El-Shazli rubbed at his beard before speaking again. The rest of the meeting proceeded much the same way—with Angela and Peter making moral appeals only to have their arguments flipped for the sake of ‘pragmatism.’ This was precisely why Angela never came to these types of things. No one’s mind was ever changed, and it only got under her skin. But thankfully Moira kept at her notes for the rest of the discussion, which meant that Angela was more or less able to focus.
When the conversation more or less died down and it was clear that there was nothing new to say, Al-Shahrani clapped her hands and adjourned. Despite the tensions of the meeting, she still shook hands with Angela and Peter warmly, giving Angela a particularly emphatic thank you for coming.
El-Shazli did the same, saying his goodbyes before dashing away to another meeting down the hall. Only Moira remained, still lost in her journal. Angela watched her out of the corner of her eye as she gathered her papers and got ready to go. Would she really let Angela go without saying goodbye? Did she really have nothing she wanted to say?
Peter was holding the door open for Angela when Moira finally spoke up.
“Angela,” she said, and the sound of her name coming out of those lips for the first time in years set Angela’s head spinning. “A moment?”
Angela nodded quickly before she found the words. “Sure. Of course.” She turned to Peter anxiously. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Peter looked between the two of them searchingly, although his tone when he spoke was friendly as always. “Not at all. I’ll see you tomorrow? For that appointment at the Embassy.”
“Eleven o’clock,” Angela agreed. “I’ll be there.”
Peter left, and the sound of the door closing behind him set Angela’s heart beating. It meant that now they were really alone. She watched as Moira closed her journal and stood up to face her. Angela wished she knew what was appropriate for something like this—a hug? Handshake? She felt frozen in place, and she hoped desperately that Moira couldn’t sense her indecision.
Moira came to stand a few inches away from Angela, looming over her as she always did. She didn’t seem unhappy. That was a blessing, at least.
“You look well, Moira,” she said finally. “I’m glad to see you.”
Moira made a soft, disbelieving noise. “Are you really?”
“Of course.”
“And is that why you came all this way? Just to see me?”
Angela frowned, confused by the question. “You know why I’m here. Peter and I are here lobbying for refugee resettlement.”
“You don’t expect that I’d actually believe that, did you?”
“There’s nothing to believe. You were right here in the meeting. I didn’t even know you’d be sitting in until an hour ago—as I said, I’m glad to see you, but this is why I’m here.”
“This,” Moira gestured vaguely at the conference room. “This is trivial. Tell me the real reason.”
“Trivial,” Angela bristled as she tossed the word back and narrowed her eyes. “Since when is protecting displaced war refugees trivial?”
“For someone like you? Always.”
“What do you mean by someone like me?”
Moira’s eyebrows knit together as she fixed Angela with an expression that seemed to ask why she was asking such a stupid question. “Someone brilliant. And important. And far too good to be wasting their time in a boilerplate meeting like this.”
Angela paused, embarrassingly thrown by the compliment she hadn’t been expecting. She realized that she’d been clenching her fist without meaning to and relaxed it as she tried to find a suitable response. This was Moira’s specialty—compliments with a barb behind them that left you flustered by the praise but insulted by the implication. After five years, Angela had almost forgotten.
Moira huffed, having taken Angela’s silence for an insult. “Fine then, don’t tell me.”
Angela could recognize the tone of Moira’s voice and the way she put her hand on her hip as she sighed. She felt like she was getting toyed with, and she was probably about to leave. Angela wanted desperately to keep her in the room. It had been so long since they’d spoken, she didn’t want this to be all they had for a new memory.
“You’re not going to ruin these doctors’ applications just because you’re mad at me, are you?” Angela asked lightly, grinning at the end to show Moira that she wasn’t upset.
“As if I would,” Moira answered. “Besides, it’s not my decision. This has nothing to do with my department.”
“Then why were you here?”
“Anya insisted. And even I have a boss.”
Angela smiled. “She seems friendlier than Gabriel, anyway.”
“Most people are,” Moira said flatly. She ran her fingers through her hair before looking down at Angela. “Well, I asked you to stay back so I could figure out what you’re after here. But if you insist there’s nothing, I’m needed elsewhere.”
She turned to walk away, and Angela moved to follow.
“Moira,” she said firmly. “You would really go, just like that?”
“I would.” Moira’s voice was unbothered, but her back was still turned. “Perhaps you’ll visit Oasis five years from now and we can do this all over again.”
Angela stood with her hand on the table and let out a sigh. Why had she chosen to marry someone so devoted to being dramatic? Why did she miss it? 
“You’re still so...difficult.”
“And you’re still so naïve.” Moira turned back around, the ghost of a smile lighting up her face. “Isn’t that nice? To think that five years have changed us so little.”
“I’ve changed,” Angela insisted.
“Is that right? And just how are you different, angel?”
It was an excellent question, and not one Angela truly felt able to answer. On some days she felt like she was the same woman she was when she joined Overwatch, full of optimism and willing to push her reservations aside in the name of the greater good. But some days she saw herself much more jaded than that, worn down by all the infighting and violence and pain that her association with Overwatch had brought. But regardless of the day, Angela knew that some things had changed. She was bolder now, less afraid to say what she wanted.
Moira was still infuriating, but she affected Angela in ways that no one had been able to since. She was in town for three days. She may as well see where those feelings took her.
She shot Moira with a clear gaze and flashed a small smile. “I’ll tell you if you’d like. Over dinner.”
Moira laughed, and Angela felt a rush of self-satisfaction. Not many people could make Moira O’Deorain laugh, but Angela always could.
“I’m taking you to dinner now?”
Angela squared her shoulders and smirked. “You are. And you’re paying, too.”
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saxgoddess25 · 6 years
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“Wakey Wakey”
Okay, well, this is two months overdue, but I’m still going to tag it Red Queen Week because that’s when I started it, and where I got the prompt from. It was for Day 2 - Seven Deadly Sins - Sloth, and the prompt was:  After a full moon, Ruby is always exhausted and Regina finds her asleep in the strangest of locations. 
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  The first time it happens, Regina almost trips over her on her way down to the kitchen for breakfast. Ruby is curled up in the hallway outside her door, snoring softly, and Regina can only smile in that fondly exasperated way that she reserves for her family. She’s not quite sure if her new lover counts as family yet, but she’s Snow’s best friend, so that probably makes her extended family, at the very least. She gently prods Ruby until she wakes up enough to be helped into Regina’s bed, then goes down to get started on breakfast.
When Ruby wakes, the house is empty, but there is hot coffee and a note that a plate of food is waiting in the fridge for her to warm up.  She smiles and makes plans to stop by the mayor’s office at lunch time to show Regina just how much she appreciates her thoughtfulness.
The second time it happens, Regina is scared half out of her mind when she opens the door to get into her Benz and finds Ruby asleep in the passenger seat. How she got into the locked car, Regina will never quite know, but her beloved werewolf is dead to the world.  
Regina’s late for a meeting, and she doesn’t have time to even poof Ruby up to their bed, so she just tucks her purse behind the seat and starts up the ignition. Halfway to City Hall, she hears a groggy, “Where we going?”
“I’m taking you to the vet.”
“Wha-?”
“Go back to sleep, Dear. I’m on my way to a city council meeting and for some reason, you were asleep in my car.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She shakes her head and chuckles when Ruby’s breathing deepens, a clear sign she’s drifted off once more. The full moon is hard on her, and Regina can’t be too mad over something her girlfriend has no control over. However, that doesn’t keep her from wishing that she would find more predictable places to pass out. Like the couch or their bed. They’ll have to have a discussion about it when Ruby is conscious again.
Until then, Regina finds a shady place to park and leaves the windows down halfway to let fresh air in. Then she hurries off to her meeting, trusting that Ruby will wake up if there’s an issue.
 The third time, she’s walking with Henry near the docks when he stops short and grabs at her sleeve. “Mom, isn’t that Ruby?”
She follows his gaze to the nearby bench, and sure enough, it is. Regina huffs softly and strides over to nudge her awake. “Hey there sleepyhead. Get up, before people start mistaking you for a vagrant.”
“Mmm?”
Shaking her head, Regina prods harder. “Ruby, you’re asleep on a bench. I don’t really want the whole town gossiping about how I’m kicking you out at night to sleep on park benches like the obvious tyrant I am.”
               “Y’r not a tyrant,” Ruby mumbles, but she manages to sit up and rub her eyes. It looks like last night’s transformation was rough, and Regina takes pity on her.
               “Henry, why don’t you go hang out with the pirate? I’m going to take Ruby home.”
               “Sure, Mom. Catch ya later. Take care, Ruby.”
               “Thanks, Henry.”
               After giving her a hand up, she wraps her arm around Ruby’s back and magics them to their bedroom. While Ruby manages to slip under the covers, Regina turns to drape her coat over a chair and kick off her shoes. Then she’s settling in with her and wrapping her in her arms.
               “You don’t have to stay,” Ruby murmurs, even as she burrows into Regina’s embrace.
               “Shh. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” She plants a kiss on her head and rubs her back, smiling when she feels Ruby relax. It’s not long before her beautiful wolf is asleep again, and Regina is lulled into a doze herself.
               When she wakes, it’s because a weight has settled onto her torso, and she opens her eyes to find a certain intention in Ruby’s gaze. “Hmm, someone’s rested.”  The reply is a passionate kiss that takes her breath away. Ruby’s fingers fumble at the buttons of her blouse, and she can’t hold back a chuckle. “Someone’s definitely rested - and frisky.”
               “Hard not to be… when you’re… so gorgeous.” The words are interspersed with nips down her throat, and she hums her appreciation.
               “Well, thank you, Dear.”
               “Mmhmm.”
               “You really need to stop falling asleep in random places though,” she threads her fingers through Ruby’s hair as the nips turned into harder bites, and her mouth moves down into her cleavage.
               “Yes, Regina,” is the muffled response. She sighs, because she knows that her words aren’t going to have an effect, and then she gives a different type of sigh entirely as Ruby’s fingers explore up under the hem of her skirt.
               “What am I going to do with you?”  
               “I have a few ideas.”
               “I do too, and only a few of them involve a collar and leash.”
               Regina’s phone buzzes on the table and both she and Snow glance over at it, disturbed from their lunchtime conversation. She picks it up nonchalantly and glances at the number. It’s Gold.
               “I’m a little busy at the moment, can I call you back?” She isn’t, really, but she doesn’t feel like being at his beck and call either.
               “No, I really think need to come over to my shop.”
               Her eyebrow arches and Snow gives her a curious look, but she barely registers it. “Why?”
               “Let’s just say that I have something here that belongs to you.”
               “Something that belongs to me?”
               “That’s what I said, Madam Mayor. Now hurry along and come collect it.”
               The line goes dead. After staring at her phone in bafflement for a few seconds, she sticks it into her pocket and scrounges around in her purse for money to pay for her lunch. “I guess I’m needed over at Gold’s.”
               “Want me to come along?”
               “No, don’t worry about it. Finish your sandwich. I’m sure this is one of his little games.”
               When she walks into the pawn shop, however, she finds out that it isn’t. Gold’s standing there, impeccable as always in his tailored suit, and when he spots her, he gestures for her to follow him into the back room. There on the couch is Ruby, fast asleep. Regina sighs.
               “Well, at least she made it to a couch this time.”
               “I take it this is an on-going occurrence?”
               “Yeah. The full moon.” She doesn’t think she needs to explain further.
               “Might I suggest…”
               “A stout length of chain?”
              ��He smirks. “Not exactly what I was going to suggest, though that might be effective.”
               “She likes to go running in the woods when she changes, and I don’t want her to be unhappy.” She had only been partially joking when she mentioned the collar and leash, but she won’t keep Ruby cooped up when she wants to go. “What were you going to suggest?”
               “Magic, of course. You always were good with a tracking spell. Modify it to send something to her with a scent that will lure her home before the end of the night.”
               That idea isn’t half bad.
               “I’ll think about it. In the meantime,” she walks over and nudges Ruby awake, as she has so many times in the past few months, “I’ll just get her home. Thanks, Gold.”
               “Don’t mention it. Just see that breaking and entering in my shop doesn’t become a habit for her, or she’ll have to sleep in the city jail.”
               That’s one of the most absurd things he could have said, and she has to laugh. “Like David or Emma would make her sleep in a cell.” The more likely scenario would be them taking her to Snow and David’s, where David would make her pancakes while Emma brewed a strong pot of coffee and Snow twittered in the background. Ruby’s family, and that’s the way the Charmings treat family.
               Regina prefers to take her home and tuck her in. She worries over the fact that her love is so wiped out after her transformations, and wants to make sure she gets enough rest. Besides, Ruby’s so often frisky and playful when she does wake up. It’s a nice perk.
               “I did it again,” Ruby murmurs against her shoulder as they snuggle in bed.
               “You did.”
               “In Mr. Gold’s shop.”
               “Mmhmm,” her fingers trail through tousled dark locks, loving the way the strands curl around her fingers.
               “Was he mad?”
               “No, I don’t think so. Though he did threaten to have you arrested.”
               “I’m technically still a deputy.”
                “There is that.” She presses a soft kiss to Ruby’s temple with a smile. “Though we all know that Emma and David would just laugh at him when he called to have you arrested for falling asleep in his back room.”
               “Yeah, they would.”
               An easy silence falls between them for a bit, until Regina breaks it to ask, “Are you hungry?”
               “I’m starving.” Ruby’s head lifts so that she can look Regina in the eye. “For you.”
               “You’re incorrigible.”
               “And you love it.”
               “That I do, Miss Lucas. That I do.”
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Project Wolf´s Cove
Five – Stumbling towards each other  
With the morning, chaos swept over the town hall. The five clerks reported back to their desks just to find themselves drawn into a gruesome murder investigation and the panicking realization that a killer was on the run in Wolfe´s Cove. Deputy Sullyvan tried to shake his head empathically every time he told a new arrival about it all. Doctor Lancer sat in the Mayor´s office and was on the phone trying to reach the mayor. Becky and the others had gravitated towards Lancer again after growing tired of standing at the front door and watching Sullyvan deal with the situation. Also, there was a couch in the office that was big enough to accommodate all four them. “Okay, so the mayor and the sheriff are both still on their annual fishing trip. Of course, they cannot be reached at the moment says Gladis.”, Lancer summarized as he hung up the phone. “That’s bad news. So will you be the one in charge now?”, Becky asked. “Can we help?” “I think he just said this to us because we happen to be here and he needed an outlet.”, Rose whispered to her. This seemed to wake Lancer up from his thoughts. “Will you be picked up by your parents soon?”, he wondered. “Or by your guardians.”, he added while looking at John. “We can drive.”, said Rose drily. “Most of us anyway.” “So what are you then still doing here?”, Lancer wondered. “I have to try to get some more help from outside. There must be somebody I can call. Get some more police officers.” Lancer picked up the receiver again and started to look around on the desk for something. Then he remembered Gladis and thumbed the button for the internal connection. “Gladis, can you get me the headquarter of the State Police?”, Lancer said into the receiver and then waited. While doing that, he glanced back at the kids with an expression of impatience. “Oh I would like to see how this works out for you.”, said Rose and was making herself more comfortable on the couch. Neil, up until now a bit sleepy, nodded, and settle better in as well. John, seeing the reaction of his friends, leaned back and closed his eyes. He also turned his head away from the others. Becky just shook her head. As his only reaction, Lancer grunted briefly, but was connected before he could say something more. Now the kids watched him and hear how he described the situation, mentioned the word “monster” several times, and finally asked for “all the units available”. He then listened and said “yes” about half a dozen times. In the end, he explained who he was. When the hung up shortly after, laughter was audible on the other end before the receiver touched the hook. Now Neil and Rose nodded. “Sounds about right.”, Rose said. “We are alone.”, Becky remarked. “Separated from the greater world by the madness we saw.”, Rose added. Becky nodded towards her in grim agreement. “This is a very dangerous situation and not the time to be isolated.”, Becky continued. “We could get the tape out somehow – but until then, we here are the ones who believe you. We are in this together.” Doctor Lancer grimaced and drummed on the desk surface with his fingers. He lifted the receiver again, then put it down again. “You are a bunch of kids.”, Lancer finally said. “But we have a car.”, Becky remarked. “We can drive around and warn people.” “Or even get the old sheriff here to show him the video tape and make him believe and help us.”, Neil added. Lancer seemed to think about it. Finally, he nodded. “Ok, fine. If you could also drive by my place and tell Tula I´m stuck here and she should not worry.”, Lancer said. “Yes, will do!”, Becky exclaimed and jumped up from the couch. The others followed her a bit more slowly.
“It would be great if we could stop somewhere on the way where I can brush my teeth.”, John said once they were back in the car as well as back on the road. “I second this motion.”, Neil said. He then looked at his friend sitting next to him and hastily added: “For me. I’d like to brush my teeth as well. And grab a bite, too.” “I second both.”, Rose agreed. Beck considered this while stopping at a red traffic light. She licked her teeth and smiled at the rear mirror. “Ok. Here is what we do: We get the old Sherriff, we drive to the gas station for snacks, we stoop by at home for fresh clothes and contact with a toothbrush, we drive to Mrs. Lancer.”, she suggested and the others agreed. At one intersection, Becky had to wait for the traffic light to turn green. She yawned and drummed on the steering wheel. Restlessly, she glanced to the left and to the right. The two streets intersecting were still empty at this time in the morning. But it was something else that let Becky grow increasingly unfocussed. “People of this car, I need to admit something.”, Becky said finally as the light switched to green. “I‘ve no idea where this old or former or both sheriff lives. Or what he is called. Does anyone of you have an idea?” Silence was the answer she got. John slept in the backseat and Rose and Neil just silently shook their heads. Unsure what to do, Becky decided to at least leave the intersection. She then took the next best opportunity to park the car at the curb. “Maybe we should drive to Pipps’ fist.”, Rose suggested. “He probably knows about this sheriff.” “Good idea.”, Becky replied and Neil nodded and grunted his approval as well. “So we drive first to the gas station for snacks and information. Then we inform the former sheriff, go quickly home, and… oh yeah, and inform Mrs. Lancer.”, Becky summarized and set the car in motion again. This time, Becky decided to park her car directly next to the little shop that was the heart of the gas station. Neil woke up John who was a bit disoriented at first. Together, the four then left the car and went into the shop. On the way, they passed the foldable table and chairs, still set up. The candle in the middle of the table had burned down at some point, which must have happened during the night and two napkins lay there, covering two paper plates. Glasses were missing, although John thought for a moment that he saw them blinking in the morning sun a bit further off towards the cliff and the big bridge that led out of town. Inside, the kids found Pipps as usual immortal at his post behind the counter. He smiled and waved a little when he greeted them, as he normally used to do. Very unusual for him was, on the other hand, was Pipps´ attire. He was still wearing the suite he had guarded so carefully the day before. All in all, the dark blue suite was still in pristine condition, only the shirt had a small lipstick stain on the left side of the collar. “How are you Pipps?”, Becky asked smiling. “Fine.”, he piped back, almost grinning. “How are you guys? You look a bit tired, even for students.” “And yet it were not the trials and follies and joys of the teenage life that kept us up last night, but monster hunting.”, Rose exclaimed. Pipps reacted with a concerned frown. “Hope this has nothing to do with poor Mr. Raimond.”, he said in a silent tone. The others were quiet for a minute. “Unfortunately, it has.”, Becky then said, the first to break the silence. She continued by explaining what had happened the last night. Pipps face started to show more and more concern as he heard all this. Afterwards, he did jump at the opportunity to give information on the on sheriff. “The old Mr. Hooper lives at the end of Salmon drive just across the bridge. He often stops by here for some small snacks or a pack of eggs.”, Pipps explained, indicating some eggs. “Has he been here today yet?”, Becky asked. “No. But he might.”, Pipps answered. Beck and the others decided to take a breakfast break and to wait and see if Hooper would show up. “If not, we can always drive to his address afterwards.”, Neil suggested. So it was decided. The four picked some hot dogs from the shop´s ever turning sausage carousel. “And I will take a bottle of mouth wash beforehand.”, John said while trying to keep his mouth closed as much as possible. He had to repeat himself twice until Pipps understood him and got the mouth wash from the toiletries shelf. John commenced to gurgle with as much of the blue fluid as he could fit into his mouth. While he did so, he wandered out of the little shop, once around the gasoline pumps, to the street, and finally spit the mouth wash into the gutter. He repeated this twice. The others had meanwhile seated themselves around the small round plastic table that made up the café corner of the shop. They looked up both times when John wandered in and back out. “His hot dog is getting cold.”, Neil observed and nodded towards the door opening where John had just disappeared again. “Take it. I´ll get another one ready for John.”, Pipps offered. Rose shot Neil a side-eye. “You want another, too?”, Pipps asked her, smiling. Rose nodded. So when John came finally back with a now only half-full bottle of mouth wash, there were two hot dogs waiting for him. Neil was already attacking his second, and Pipps was about to set one each in front of Rose and Becky. “Thanks.”, Becky smiled. She then turned to John. “How are you? Did washing your mouth with the mouth wash help?” “Dizzy.”, John replied tiredly and then added: “I think I also leave that standing as answer to your second question. Thanks Pipps.” Almost carefully, John bit into his first hot dog. “Weird taste after the magic blue?”, Neil wondered. “Actually, it is quite good. You should set it on the menu.”, John suggested and dug into his food. “What do you think is in the blue slushy?” Pipps chuckled. When the kids reacted with shock, he stopped smiling and added: “What is it with you and the blue slushy?” He shook his head and went back behind the counter. There, he found his usual corner and leaned against the wooden wall, his head right next to a big round wall clock. “But I´m sure glad that you all look better now than when you came in her earlier.”, Pipps said. “Thanks.” Becky repeated. She was then about to say something more, but hesitated as if thinking her words over again. In the end, she settled for: “It was worse for others last night.” Pipps frowned again, looked down and seemed to shift his weight from one foot to the other and back. He sighed and wavered again. Rose got up and asked for a slushy. Pipps nodded once for the question and once towards the stacked paper cups on his counter. “Sure good what you are doing.”, Pipps said after a moment of silence, only interrupted by the slushy machine. “Wish I could help you more, be part of your little team. Can´t really leave, though. I called the boss yesterday to carefully ask about it, but no chance.” He paused again for a second. “Oh, and all this is on me of course.” Rose looked at her small-sized paper cup, hesitated, and then replied: “Thanks Pipps. You are great.” “Yes, thank you so much. You are helping us a lot.”, Becky said as well and Neil and John nodded. Pipps smiled again. Then he looked at the clock. “I´m just not sure if the old sheriff will stop by this morning. Maybe it´s better if you drive to his house.”, Pipps said thoughtfully. “That’s probably a good idea.”, Neil replied with a small sigh. The others signalled their agreement. Neil then walked over the few steps to the counter and fist-bumped with Pipps. John also got up, collected all the hot dog wrappers and empty cups and threw them in the bin next to the sausage carousel. “Oh.”, Neil said and made a move to help but it was too late. John nodded and smiled to Pipps as he left the shop with Neil. Now Rose walked over to the gas station attendant. She pointed at the foldable table with the burned down candle just outside and grinned at Pipps be she said: “Bye Pipps. Take care.” “You too.”, Pipps replied, blushing slightly, not quite reaching the color of intense red on his collar. Becky hugged him across the counter. She also looked at the candle and winked. “Greetings to Gladis.”, she whispered. “Will do. …and if there is something you guys need. Just come back here… or give me a call.”, Pipps said. “Let me write down the number of the payphone outside and the address of the old sheriff again.” He took a napkin and produced a pen from one of his jacket pockets and wrote both down. “Thank you so much. You are truly one of us.”, Becky said as she received the napkin. “See you and take care.” “Same.” Outside, the others were waiting by the car. As Becky approached, they all got inside. “Floor it.”, Rose exclaimed. “Let the old lady fly across the bridge.” “Sure glad you got that blue gold.”, Neil commented. “Let us follow the course of the sun across this straight, to where hope can maybe be had.”, John said and Becky started the engine. The old sheriff lived in a detached house in New Town, the once sprawling suburb of Wolf´s Cove. Although it belonged to the town, this neighbourhood, where the school was located as well, was located on the mainland proper. “Nice.”, commented Neil as they turned into the street where the old sheriff was supposed to live. “Just lacks the thrill of loving on a rock surrounded by stormy water.”, John, who leaned against the window, mumbled. “True.” Neil nodded. He then turned his attention back to the quiet residential street, lined with fast-growing poplars. The houses were simple in that they must have been build based on a limited number of models and were painted in a limited pallet of colors. But there was the New Town Recreation Centre, a gymnasium, at the end of the street. Right before that there was a beige house which was the destination of the students. Becky parked the car parallel to the sidewalk and looked at Pipps´ note again. “Yup, that´s it.”, she said. “Great.”, Rose replied. “I was just wondering if we really need to gang up on the guy…” “You want to hang back for now?”, Becky asked and Rose nodded. “Oh, if this is an option, I would like to wait in the car as well.”, John said. Becky nodded and then she and Neil got out of the car and went to the houses front door. Rose watched them push the little button for the doorbell and then knock. When somebody opened and a conversation started, she directed her attention to John. He was still rolled up in his corner of the back seat. His eyes were open and he stared at the celling. “All good?”, Rose wondered. “Just tired.”, John said. “At the same time I am not really motivated to close my eyes. The images of the thing staring at me from a distance last night and of the poor guy getting partially devoured by it are bleeding into each other and return once I blink.” “Shit.”, Rose commented. “In the past, I did try to describe scenes like this. I thought that would be a great and impactful thing to write. So far, I was never satisfied with what I produced. Now, I am ok with that failure.”, John said in a low voice. “Did anyone of you see the end of the video?” “No, we all had turned around shortly before, I think.” “So it is just me with these pictures in my head.”, John stated. For a short moment, his eyes made contact with Rose´s, before returning to face the ceiling again. “Sorry buddy.”, Rose said with a frown. “It is ok.” John turned around, put his forehead against the window and stared outside. “We can still talk about it.”, Rose suggested and then held her breath. “No thanks. Not yet anyway.”, John replied and Rose started to breathe again. She twisted her face and looked around, without really looking for something. She just took in the street, the gym, the houses, and the trees. “Somethings you can sometimes work with alone.”, she finally stated in a flat voice. When the doorbell did not ring, Becky knocked. She waited a second and then knocked again, louder. She saw an approving and encouraging nod from Neil from the corner of her eye. Finally, there was the sound of footsteps coming from inside the house. Closer and closer the steps came. They stopped right at the other side of the door. A clicking sound and a quick darkening of the door spy indicated that someone was looking outside. Instinctively, Becky and Neil made a step back, position themselves better visible and friendlier looking on the door step. It worked. The door swung open and a tall and slender man with glasses and suspenders stood on the other side. “Yes?”, the older man asked in defensive voice. “Good day to you, sir. Are you sheriff Hooper?”, Becky asked and went on to radiate a broad smile. “Ex-sheriff.”, the man said but he also nodded. “Hello Mr. ex-sheriff Hooper.”, Neil said. “We are local high school students and we need your help.” “This some money collecting?”, Hopper inquired. He also crossed his hands in front of his chest. “No.”, Becky stressed. “This is more an issue for the police.” She then continued to explain that a murder had happened and that doctor Lancer was requesting Hooper´s help. Hopper lowered his arms – just to cross them again in front of his chest. “How and why is this something I should be involved?”, he wondered aloud. Becky opened her mouth to answer something, but Hooper went on: “I´m not part of the police force anymore. That was made very clear. It was made very clear in the past. My days as part of that team are over. I´m merely a private individual these days. So I can only advise you to go the real police chief in town.” Becky blinked and Neil sighed. “It is not possible to contact the current sheriff at this moment.”, Neil explained. “This is part of why doctor Lancer send us here.”, Becky said faster than usual. Neil noticed that and glanced from her to Hooper but the ex-sheriff did not seem to notice. However, Becky´s words seemed to stir his interest a bit. “Yes?”, he asked. Rose returned her attention to John. He remained still, rolled up as far as he could and with his eyes closed. So he did not notice that Rose was looking at him again. “Do you think we are cursed now?”, she wondered aloud. “I indeed still feel a bit cursed. But the hot dogs and the mouth wash helped with that, I think.”, John murmured without moving or opening his eyes. “No, I mean the town.”, Rose clarified. “Maybe this is a way to make sense of this strange situation. There might have been a chance that the crash was just an accident, a chance to meet another being lost. But when that being and the old fellow together started eating people, I think they became cursed. Like it says in the old stories. And with them, we all, the whole town, got cursed. A town with such a name must be prone to such a warped destiny. You just cannot eat people without causing demise for the whole community.” “Interesting.”, John commented, shortly opening his eyelids and looking up to his friend. “Is that why we all are responsible to help lifting the curse?” “This might be what drives Becky.”, Rose nodded. “She realized that that would be the right way.” “Because the man-beast is our man…beast…” “Right. Not by choice maybe. But right now, our existences are interwoven.” “Interesting.”, John repeated. “I would have thought you would not like this way of responsibility for the deeds of others.” “I do not like it at all.” Rose said sternly. “However, we live here and we are not alone.” “So the current sheriff, this Carpenter-individual, is out of town and can´t be reached?”, Hooper more gloated upon than summarized. “Yes, he is fishing with the mayor.”, Becky replied. Hooper nodded slowly as if everything he had just heard was merely another confirmation of things he knew all along. “This is no surprise.”, he said consequently and moved back into his house. He was even about to close the door again. “Wait!”, Neil pleaded. “Please just go to the town hall and look at what the doctor has to show you.” Hooper did not close the door, but he did not come back out either. “Oh come on.”, Becky finally exclaimed. “What else do you want to hear? How much on the nose do we have to be? There are people in danger and maybe you can help. But all you do is standing there as if waiting for some compliments or reaffirmation from us. We are just a bunch of high-schoolers asking you to help the town. If this is not enough, then this has no point.” She turned around on her heels and waked back down to her car. Neil was surprised at first and did not know how to react. In the end, he followed her. Both got back in the car. “So…”, Rose more asked than stated. “He´ll come around.”, Becky said while turning the key in the ignition. “And I´m tired.” “Fair enough.”, Rose replied. “Yeah.”, John seconds as Neil looks back one more time to the old man´s house. “Just one thing.”, John adds shortly before Becky can loosen the hand break. “Is it too late to ask the former sheriff to use his toilet?” “Oh no…”, Rose exclaimed. “I wish you would not have said that.” Neil made an uneasy face. “You, too?”, Becky asked in his direction and Neil nodded. “Like, this is very awkward.”, John admitted. Becky seemed conflicted. “Well then let´s ask him.”, she finally said. The others avoided to make eye contact with her and instead stared out of the windows. “Do I have to be the one…”, Becky started, but was again interrupted by the old sheriff. He came out of his house, wearing an old jacket, locked the front door, and went over to the garage. There, he opened the gate, got in his car and drove off. “God dammed.”, Neil exclaimed. “He has to screw with us every step of the way.” “Should we break in and liberate his washroom?”, Rose suggested. There was a short pause where everyone was silent in a way as if at least three quarter of the people present were considering that suggestion. Then Becky climbed back and stepped on the gas, promising to drive them quickly to a washroom. “The school is close and… oh right. Well, your home is also not far, John. I´ll drive you there as fast as possible.”, Becky promised. “Appreciate that we don´t head for the filthy school.”, Neil said. As soon as Becky slowed down in the vicinity of John´s house, the other three jumped out of the car and sprinted inside. Becky smiled and turned off the engine. She looked around. Every house here was known to her and almost every family and person living in them. She frowned and then smiled again when she let herself drift into memories of herself visiting John´s house and leaving from it. Good memories were set in summer or fall, she decided. One that left still a cold feeling in her stomach and tugged unkindly at her heart, she slotted into early spring, when the winds still blew cold in from the sea. She was alone at this moment or at least so it seemed. There might be people in the simple houses up and down the street. There were at least three of her friends very close by. Yet, all of them were invisible for the time being. Becky wondered about that, not for long, but she did. After a while, Rose returned and the two drove ahead to Becky´s home. To rest and to freshen-up. “Was there something else, we might be missing?”, Becky wondered. Rose could not tell. She stared into the sky thinking. Still, she could not tell. “Hm.”, Becky said and dropped the issue. She parked the car in the drive way of her house. Both of them went inside where they found Becky´s mother sitting on the big couch in the living room. “There you are.”, Becky´s mom said with her voice slightly pitched too high compared to her normal manner of speaking. She held up the short note Becky had written a lifetime ago. “Sorry.”, Becky said. “We had to leave very spontaneously last night. It was necessary, even more so than I thought when I wrote this note. And a lot happened since then.” “Could I get more details, maybe?”, Beck´s mother asked. Becky nodded and she and Rose exchanged a glance. “So who will stay in this moment to tell the story and who will get to take a shower and a nap first?”, Becky wondered. Rose was about to say something. Then she took another look at her friend. Becky was slightly shivering even though it was relatively warm. She blinked often and sometimes closed her eyes for too long. So Rose cleared her throat and volunteered to tell the story. She sat down on the couch besides, crossed her legs, scooted a bit closer to Becky´s mom, and put a hand reassuringly on the mother´s knee. “So let me loop you in into our winding tale. It is a tale darker and more personal than all the stories from when I was a child and an elven mage. Anyway, how much time do we have until your shift starts, Erin?”, Rose inquired. “I ask, just so that I know how to pace my tale.” Neil lay on his back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for sleep to come and claim him, at least for a while. His mind was racing, repeating dreadful pictures of the last days over and over again. Often claws were reaching out and flesh was torn. Some of this was just imagination as Neil knew, for he had not seen how destruction happened, just the results. But he had seen how a normal person turned into something completely alien. This was another sequence of pictures that played before the eye of his mind. Finally, he felt his consciousness slip away rather sweetly. A second later, it seemed, he was woken up by steps racing up the stairs. Panicky steps. Neil blinked and looked around. He was still in his room. But now, his door flew open. His mother stood in the doorframe, short of breath with exhaustion and fear. “Wha?”, Neil was able to say. “They are driving through the streets warning people of the monster!”, his mom exclaimed. Neil sat up in his bed, now wide awake again, his heart pumping like it was already on the run and gaining ground on him.   Becky had slept for a while, she decided. She felt refreshed, so maybe the while had been long enough. The clock showed her that three whole hours had passed. So the must have slept. She turned to the side and tried to plan ahead. There were surely still things to do. They should go back to the town hall and talk to Doctor Lancer… Following that thought, Becky sat up, then jumped out of her bed. She had forgotten to call Mrs. Lancer. She threw on some clothes and stormed downstairs to the living room. There she grabbed the phone and called Mrs. Lancer´s home. Mrs. Lancer did not get to the phone, but Becky left a brief message on the answering machine. All was fine with Doctor Lancer, but he was busy helping the town. Becky hung up and thought a bit. Then she looked at the living room clock and decided to call the school. Surely, Mrs. Lancer would still be there. Becky got through to the administrator´s office. She then learned that Mrs. Lancer was not at the school anymore. As a matter of fact, almost no one was left there. “The school is being evacuated?”, Becky wondered aloud. “Say what?”, came from Rose who had been napping on the couch. Now she peeked over the back rest of it at her friend. “The school is being evacuated.”, Becky repeated. “Because of a monster.” Neil stared through the kitchen window. Out on the street, there was a police cruiser and through its speaker system, Deputy Sullyvan warned people of a dangerous individual, possible a beast or monster, prowling the town. There was a simple rhythm to Sullyvan´s words, which made them penetrated the mind more easily. “Stay on your house for now, a beast is on the prowl. Stay inside, until we give you a green light. Soon it will be ok – but for now stay inside.”, the deputy sang while driving slowly down the street. People stood on their porches and wondered what all that meant. More and more, they also got scared. Neil nodded and muttered to himself: “Shit, shit.” He then jumped up to his room, dressed as fast as he could and ran down again, this time to the back door. “Need to tell John about this. Then we´ll see, maybe go to the town hall to see the doc.”, Neil explained to his mom. “Is this about the thing you saw and last night?”, she asked. Neil stopped for a minute. “Yes. Sorry that I didn´t have more time to explain what is happening. Not sure when I´ll have the opportunity to do so. But now something seems to be done. That´s good news. See you later, love you.”, he rapid-fired over his shoulder and then stopped. “Maybe you and dad should meet up with John´s grandma before sundown. And make sure to lock all windows and doors.” Then he was gone through the back door. With wide strides, he traversed the perfectly kept backyard. He breathed in deeply when he reached the fence. Then he flung his right leg up to the wooden planks, strained, and pulled himself over the fence. He was now in John´s backyard. John was on the phone when he saw his friend letting himself drop from the peak of fence in the backyard. “Seems Neil is on the way already.”, John said into the receiver. “Yah, he just dropped by.” John hung up and then opened the glass back door to let Neil in. “Sullyvan is making rounds dropping bars about a beast, and warning people.”, Neil reported breathlessly. He tried to clean some dry grass from the knees of his pants. “Becky called and said the school is being evacuated.”, John said instead of a reply. “Because of the monster?”, Neil wondered. “Yes.” “Good…” Neil concluded his efforts to clean his pants. He then stood surrounded by a spot of dry grass on the floor of John´s grandma´s living room. So he tried to push the grass outside with his sneakers. John was watching him a bit absentmindedly. “Anyway,” John continued, “Becky suggested we drive back to the town hall and see what happens.” “I´d like to know what happens.”, Neil agreed. “Besides, it is still light outside. Feels save… saver.” “Well, there is just one monster and now a whole town aware of that.”, John remarked. Neil nodded quietly. They went outside to wait for the others. On the way, they hugged John´s grandma with a honesty and urgency that left her speechless for the moment it took the boys to leave. There were around three dozen cars parked around the town hall and even more people were on foot, streaming towards it. All looked worried if not angry. “Maybe they got questions.”, Rose suggested. “They surely look like it.” The friends studied the fearful and angry faces of the people closing in on the town hall. “I can´t image that this is a good idea. Like, assembling here in one spot while a monster is hunting its prey in town. This looks like an all-you-can-eat-buffet.”, Neil commented. Mainly in pairs of two, the people from the street filtered into the town hall. The doors were open and Deputy Smith stood beside them, looking uneasy. Next to her was the old sheriff, surveying the area and now and then talking to Smith. “Also not a good idea to cram people into a confined space in a situation like this.”, John added. “Yes. But to be honest, that kind of endangering and reckless behaviour is what I would have expected from any group of people large enough and afraid enough.”, Rose said. “True.”, John agreed. Becky meanwhile tried to talk to one or two people and to ask them to go back home. Her words were lost on them like they would have been to the cliffs and the surf. She was barely visible for them. The four friends waited next to the entrance until all the angry and confused people had filtered into the building. “Let´s maybe see what they want and if there are any news.”, Neil suggested and Becky agreed. “Not sure if I need that.”, Rose said wryly. “What I need is to make another call, I think.” She proceeded inside and headed for the public phone. “Fair.”, Becky called after her. “And maybe you would like to stay behind here with Rose? If you also would like to skip the masses.” Her last words were directed at John. “Hm.”, John made. “I can absolutely do without all these people.” He paused and studied Becky´s expression.   “Is this one of these situations where you need to give me a clue?”, he wondered. Becky nodded and smiled. “That´s a pretty big cue, not that I want to interfere.”, Neil commented. They left it at that and went inside. John stayed behind close to the phone and to Rose, while the others followed the citizens into the council chamber. John looked out through the open doors at the streets again. These were the same streets as last night and still a world away it seems. Here he had seen the monster stand in the yellow greasy light of the street lamps. Now everything looked like a normal warm summer day. Plus the cars parked more or less wildly outside of the town hall. Warm, almost hurtfully bright light had transformed the whole landscape. Everything from last night just seemed like a nightmare, separated from the now by the waking and knowing that there are dreams but that there is also a reality. John shivered slightly in the shadow of the entrance. He turned his attention to Rose. She had just finished her call and stepped out of the half enclosed phone booth. John set out to say something or rather ask something. The words reached the end of their usability before he could even utter them. So he stood there with a slightly opened mouth. “She is doing okay.”, Rose reported, filling the emptiness John had left in the interaction. “That is good.”, John then said as a reaction. “I am glad for her and you.” “Thank you.” There was another pause. John opened his arms and moved a bit closer, suggesting a hug. Rose looked at him, first puzzled and then understanding. “Yeah, we can hug on that.”, she said and they clumsily embraced each other. When it was over, both nodded. “Did you tell your parents about what is happening here?”, John wondered. “No.” The council camber was full and even over full with people. There was no place left to sit and not much place to stand either. People were bumping against the councillor´s tables and chairs. Again and again, someone was pushed or stumbled into one of the almost life size paintings of whalers and traders of blubber, livestock, and people, and mayors. It was clear that the round room with its dark wood panelling and low ceiling was not build for such a an interest in assemblage. The air was already bad and so was the mood. Becky and Neil had to push and elbow their way inside the doors. “Maybe we should find out why these people are here.”, Becky whispered to Neil. “Grand idea. I leave you the lead. You are clearly more effective in this communication thing.” People were talking over each other in smaller groups. Some seemed to shift between groups, talking to someone on their left and then turning to their right to say the same thing. But relatively closely to the door Becky and Neil discovered the two local librarians Agnes Smith and Angus Lancer. Becky decided to address them. “Hello Ms. Smith and Mr. Lancer. How are you? What brings you here?”, Becky inquired. “We heard the police making announcements that there was a danger. This was not a terribly helpful information. So we went here and now found out that Hendrick of all is in charge.”, Mr. Lancer answered. “As I´ve said time and again, it was a mistake to do away with the good old air raid sirens. They would have helped us in a situation like this.”, Ms. Smith added. “Indeed, they would have warned us.”, Mr. Lancer agreed. “Right? Then we would know to stay inside and not to come by here ourselves.” “We would have stayed inside in the safety of our houses.”, Mr. Lancer went on. “It is not too late to return home.”, Becky suggested. “Without a proper way to warn people, we have no other way to get any information than to come by. If only there were less people and less noise.”, Ms. Smith stated. “However…”, Becky started, but did not manage to get back into the conversation. Neil touched her elbow and shook his head. “They just want to repeat what they already think they know, like the others here.”, Neil whispered, not silently enough as he got angry glances from Smith, Lancer, and others around. “Let´s move on.”, Neil suggested. Becky agreed and they tried to push on towards the head side of the room where they assumed Doctor Lancer would be. After successfully moving a few steps, they found Mr. MacShane lecturing a small group very concerned citizens on staying away from the water. “Hi Mr. MacShane.”, Becky greeted. “Have you changed your mind and are here to help us now?” MacShane sized her up as if she had just completed an athletic feat but not with the form necessary. “There is no changing the truth. I am here because the town seems to wake up to the facts I have had all the time already. So I am here to offer my professional knowledge. If the powers that be are willing to listen to me. And do what I suggest.” “Oh… great.”, Becky said with an unsteady smile. Neil nudged her on. They passed further people who moved closer to the speaker´s podium, demanding details on the nature of the danger that had befallen the town. At some point, Becky and Neil could not go any further. A group ahead was impervious to elbow bumps. Even worse, there was a rush backwards and Becky and Neil were pushed against one of the councillor´s desks. To render the push without effect, Becky climbed on the desk. Neil followed her. Now they stood there half crouching under the ceiling. But they could see a bit more and noticed that Doctor Lancer was standing almost with his back against the wall. All that was separating him from the far end of the room were the Stars and Stripes, the bright state flag, and the dark flag of Wolf´s Cove hanging from their gilded masts. A subgroup of the crowd had the doctor cornered there, obviously pelting him with questions. “Poor guy, he seems trapped over there.”, Becky commented with a nod to Lancer. “Yeah, a bit like we are on this table.”, Neil observed, looking around. “What are they even talking about with the doctor?”, Becky wondered. Neil re-directed his attention. “I think some are wondering if the water from the tabs is still safe to drink. Others seem to ask if they can still go to the beach before the sirens call out.”, Neil then said. “No wonder that that Doctor Lancer seems to be completely lost.”, Becky commented. “We should do something.” “Like, fire a gun into the ceiling to get everyone’s attention?”, Neil asked while stemming his both hands against the wooden panelling above him. “Hm.”, Becky made. “Interesting. Deputy Smith and the old sheriff just tried to enter the room.” Outside, it had become quiet. “Seems the stream of fearful angriness has dried up for the moment.”, John observed. “Stream of angriness?”, Rose wondered. “The wave of the ones confused to the point of anger.” “Still shaky.”, Rose decided. “Also what is with all the water metaphors?” “You mean, my metaphors have no sea-legs?”, John asked and smirked. Rose just rolled her eyes. “We are close to the ocean.”, John then defended himself. Rose crooked her head, blinked, and nodded in the end. “Okay. I get it.”, she said. “But back to the point. Maybe Sullyvan did not reach everyone yet with his warnings.” They interrupted their conversation while Deputy Smith walked by. She probably had decided that her presence was not needed anymore outside. The street was empty except for the wildly parked cars, abandoned for the moment like rocks beached by a surge that was long gone. So the deputy passed Rose and John and went on to the council chamber. John looked out at the street again, his eyes wandering aimlessly at first, then searching. “Do you think it could come back even now in the daylight?”, Rose asked after observing her friend for a minute. “I hope not.”, John answered. “Do you think this will end… well, it cannot end well anymore. But do you think it can at least without more tragedy?” Now Rose also looked out on the small houses flanking the street running away from the town hall. She observed the shadows the cedars and street lights created on the pavement and the asphalt. There were all these little secretive spots hiding from the sun light. “I do not know.”, Rose finally said. “Right now it is bright and nice outside, but there is a darkness overlaying everything now. It is like something familiar got a facet previously unseen. And this new facet is scary for you do not know where it will lead but you are well aware to where it can lead. There are shadows in this world, you realize. Shadows with claws and fangs that are too eager to grab and gnaw on the ones you like.” “Yeah.”, John agreed. “All is the same and not the same. It makes me wonder how this situation would play out if someone else had spotted the asteroid. If we were different and if the town was different. It also makes me wonder how we would see this situation if it we were like the monster. If we were the monster. After all, we saw that it looks like one of us.” On their desk, Becky and Neil tried to get the attention of Deputy Smith and of Hooper. They waved as good as they could with the limited space at hand. When this did not work, Neil tried to whistle. When he failed, he looked a bit haplessly at Becky. She yelled: “Hey!” But even this did not yield the hoped for results. “Ok, I´ve got an idea. Let´s get back down into the mosh pit to get to Smith.”, Becky suggested and started to push somebody a bit away to make enough room to jump down from the desk. Neil had to follow her swiftly before the opening she created did close. He felt like jumping right into a moment when the tides where about to change. With elbows and some polite words from Becky, they made a way to the deputy. Unfortunately, somebody was faster and Smith and Hooper were already caught up in a conversation. Even closer than the crowded room demanded, Mr. W. stood next to Smith and Hooper. W. was, as usual dressed in his blue and green plastic track suite. This time, he had combined this with a camouflage vest. “Finally some authority!”, Mr. W. said in his raspy voice. Smith was staring at him puzzled. “We should take back the control of this situation and firstly make sure no more of these strange elements can filter into our bellowed city.”, Mr. W. continued. “What are you talking about?”, Smith wondered. “We told everybody already that the monster looks like one of us. There is no filtering.” Hooper nodded like somebody nods who got to see the reality second hand and was still impacted by it. Becky and Neil used meanwhile the resulting pause to reach the two police officers and to interject themselves into the conversation. “Deputy Smith, Mr. Hooper, this here is a very weird situation. But I´ve got an idea.”, Becky said. “What are you still doing here?”, Smith asked. “We got you, Mr. Hooper, to come by.”, Neil explained. “And now she has an idea.” He nodded towards his friend. “However…”, Mr. W. pushed himself back into focus, physically as well. “I would like to report suspicious strangers and demand that you take this seriously and the whole issue into your own hands. No more of these civilian town government. In a crisis, it is our time to make the decisions. I volunteer to help, of course.” “We are not looking for strangers. For me, the person on the tape looks like the old Mr. Miller to me.”, Hooper said. “We should still close the bridge. Shady individuals cross it every day.”, W. insisted. “I crossed it just hours ago!”, Hooper exclaimed. “Don´t engage him.”, Neil pleaded. “Becky, what is your idea?” Becky remarked that there were around 50, maybe 60 people in the council chamber at the moment. Way too many for such a small room. The bar where her mother worked, on the other hand, had a dancing salon attached to it that could fit around 80 people. So Becky´s suggestion was to move this meeting to the bar. And to give it more structure while doing so. This would also help to reduce the chaos and the fear and to improve the safety of everybody. Smith and Hopper looked at each other and exchanged a quick nod. “Sounds like a red idea.”, Smith said, then corrected herself. “This sounds like a promising idea.” She proceeded to call Deputy Sullyvan via radio and to tell him to go to the bar. “Nice.”, Sullyvan´s crackling voice said over radio. “I hope he gets what we are aiming to do.” Hooper commented. Rose and John saw the people leaving the council chamber and filing out through the entrance door. “This went either really well or really bad.”, John commented. Rose stared straight at him. “You think this could not have gone well?”, John wondered. “She´s right.”, Neil said as he detached himself from the crowd and came over to the public phone where the others were standing. Rose nodded. A second later, Becky joined the others. “We are heading to my mom´s bar. I´ll better call her.”, Becky said but did not see her friends nodding in agreement as she was already disappearing in the half enclosed telephone booth. “Hope there will be snacks.”, Rose stated while watching people still filing out of the town hall. From outside, angry words could be heard, exchanged between town’s people who had parked in each other´s way previously and now struggled to leave in their cars. “Snacks sound reasonable.”, Neil agreed. Now there was a honking coming from several cars clearly audible. This was then soon accompanied by the noise of engines revving. “It is getting relatively late already again.”, John remarked. There was the sound of a slight crash and metal pushing against and denting in metal. More honking followed. “I mean, it will be dark relatively soon again.”, John. Like the others, he watched the last people leave the town hall. Now only the friends were left as well as Doctor Lancer, Deputy Smith, and Hooper. Those three were just coming out of the council chamber. “You think it will return with the sundown?”, Rose inquired. Again, there were honking, screeching tires, and a bumping crash audible. Then somebody yelled. “I fear it will return soon, too soon.”, John said. “Can we do something so that these people are not killing themselves while leaving their illegal parking spots?”, Hooper wondered while walking by, clearly talking to Smith. She shrugged. “Hopefully we can get a bit more order.”, she added and then turned to Becky, Neil, and the others. “Good idea to move all of this.” Becky gave her a thumbs-up, Neil bowed slightly. “Did someone see the reverent?”, wondered Lancer who walked a bit shaky. Bu the three adults left without answering this question. Slowly the noises outside subsided afterwards. Becky finished up her call and walked up to the others. “Let´s drive to the bar.” There were already a few cars parked in front of the bar which had the simple name “Drink”. One of these cars was Sullyvan´s police cruiser. The lights were flashing but the siren and the deputy was silent for the moment. From behind the steering wheel, he watched worried citizens arriving and then directly entering the bar. Sullyvan also waved to Becky and the others when they slowly drove by to find a parking spot. As there was much interest in the bar that night – lots of the usual guest seemed to be inside already in addition to the angry citizens – Becky could only find some available space to a block away. She parked with an excusing impression on her face and afterwards, the four friends walked from there to the bar. “Not sure I know why we are even here.”, Neil said. “Because these scared people needed a place to assemble that was not a squishing hazard.”, Becky replied. “I get that. But why were they there in the first place and are now here in the… second place?”, Neil clarified. “Did you really expect something different when the police goes out to warn everybody to stay inside?”, Rose wondered. Neil considered it. “I get your point here as well,… but how does this help them in their endgame?” “There is no endgame for them.”, John suggested. “And you said that you get that several times now. Please do not say it again.” Neil grumbled but nodded. “I´m just on the edge. Soon it will be night again and I can´t see how this all helps us to keep the town save.”, he mumbled. Becky nodded and put an arm around him. “You are right in your concerns.”, she said. “However, maybe we can do some good here.” “Better than driving until dusk to search for a monster with giant claws.”, Rose added. So they went on and entered “Drink”. The four friends immediately found Becky´s mom behind the slightly worn, but still oak bar counter. Erin looked tense and was watching the entrance door as well as the door leading to the dance salon. Becky ran to her mother and gave her a hug. The other three high schoolers remained on the customer side of the bar, but smiled and waved at Erin. “Hey guys.”, Erin smiled back and her posture became already less tensed, possibly because Beck was clinging to her. “Do you want something to eat before the whole great whatever it is starts in the ball room?” “Yes please.”, Neil answered and the others nodded. “Do we also get beer?”, Neil then wondered with a smirk. “We have the police here.”, Erin replied flatly while still being hugged. Then Becky let her mother go. “Thanks for the food.”, Becky said and left the area behind the bar. Her mother smiled. “Wait with that until you see what you get. There are some sausages left over.”, Erin explained. “Can´t chug them to the assembled citizens?”, Neil wondered. “Oh, we did.”, Erin reported with a played up enthusiasm. “But there are still some left.” “If you need help with meal-related planning of stocking and selling, I can offer my help.”, Neil said. “Meanwhile we are thankful for what we get.”, Rose interjected and John nodded with effort. Erin requited that with a nod from her side. Then she wrote something on a small piece of paper, turned around, and handed the paper through a small window behind the bar into the kitchen. “Machine will take care of your snacks.”, Erin declared. “How is your family, Rose? Do you need to make a call?” “I called them already today. They are fine. My sister is still doing ok. We will know more after the operation they say. But maybe I already mentioned it as they mention it a lot.”, Rose answered. “It´s ok to mention it again.”, Becky reassured her friend and gave her a brief hug. “Sorry I missed the call today.” “Oh, John was there. So when he hugged me it was like hugging you second-hand.”, Rose remarked and smirked. John blushed. “That´s how it works – at least according to what they teach in school.”, Neil chimed in and padded John on the back. Then he returned his attention to the kitchen window. “I talked to Tula about this already.”, Erin said while preparing a drink for a customer sitting further down at the bar. “She teaches music, not dancing.”, Neil joked and chuckled a bit too long. Meanwhile Becky froze for a moment. “We were supposed to visit her or at least call her. But I forgot and then could not reach her.”, Becky said nervously. “Oh, she is here, dear.”, Erin remarked. “I saw her entering the dance salon.” “Should check on her.”, Becky insisted and went away. The other three watched her leave, but hesitated to follow for now. But then Doctor Lancer walked into the bar and with him Deputy Smith and the ex-sheriff. Erin sent them with a nod towards the dance salon. “I guess with Becky and Lancer here, we are not needed to reassure Mrs. Lancer that things are relatively ok.”, Neil suggested. “Also, they did not even bow their head in a simple gesture to greet us.” “That was rude.”, John agreed. “Barbarians.”, Rose added. “No sausages for them.”, Neil suggested. Rose put a hand on his elbow. “Wait until we have tasted them.”, she whispered. The bright sound of a bell mounted to the counter in the kitchen window sounded. “You will have the opportunity to do the tasting now indeed.”, Erin said and turned around to the window behind her. Quickly, she produced four plates with pale sausages, fries and some salad. “Not bad. Thanks.”, Neil said. “Even some leaves to keep the scurvy at bay.” “We are a seafarer town, after all.”, Erin gave back. “Could you bring Becky her plate?” Neil nodded and picked up two of the portions before heading to the dance salon. Rose picked up her plate as well and followed Neil. Then it was John´s turn. “How are you doing?”, Erin asked while handing him his food. “How is your grandma?” John pondered that for a while and tried his best to avoid looking Erin in the eyes. “Good… and good. Like, as good as it can be right now. My sister is also fine, I think. But she is at least away. That is a relief. One cannot be at two places at the same time. So she is out of the danger zone I guess. Grandma and I have to see what the night brings, though. There is stuff to do here that hopefully helps. So I cannot be at two places. Hope I chose well.”, John answered before he could make himself stop. Erin nodded and patted slightly his hand. “You four are doing great.”, Erin reassured John. She did so without proof, but with one of her friendly smiles. John looked her in the eyes again. “It´s good to see you. Always.”, Erin said finally. “Same.”, John replied and nodded three times. He even smiled. Then he took his plate and followed the others. The dance salon was not so much decorated as littered with abandoned and forgotten decoration from previous balls. These were namely some high school dances which had been maritime themed. There were paper sea horses and sea stars and some whales lining the walls and at dolphin was hanging above the small stage. There were also pumpkins and witches and spider webs. The first two were in anticipation of the fall already or hold overs from last Halloween. The latter might have been real. There were still a lot of people in the room, but John had the feeling that there were less people here than in the town hall. Still, John was glad when he discovered that Rose and Neil had found a standing table in one corner and a bit removed from the crowd to settle down and eat their food. So John kept close to the wall while he went to his friends. “How is the food?”, John asked Rose and Neil. “I like the show more.”, Neil answered, while holding a hand in front of his mouth, and nodded towards the stage. There, Fred, the owner of “Drink”, stood and tried to instil some order into his surprise guests. “So I see some people here tonight who I might or might not, but certainly have, banned for life from this establishment. As this is an extreme situation and we are all scared. So I´ll make an exception. As long as you can behave yourself tonight. Looking at you Eb in particular. Yes, you. If there is a problem, I will not wait for the cops, I and Bruce will take the matter into our own hands and rain down expulsions and additionally lifelong bans at you.”, Fred thundered from his elevated position. He did not use the sound system in the room, as the microphone was set too high for him, as if it was already set up for Doctor Lancer. “So, having said this, the bar is open and food is still served. Also, please listen what the doctor has to say. He told me he has important things to see.” Fred climbed down from the stage and mingled with the assembled crowd. After a moment of emptiness that frustrated everyone, Doctor Lancer, together with Smith and Hooper took to the stage. Lancer stressed that there was danger, but not the need for headless actions. That make John push his plate away from himself. “He should not have mentioned the head.”, Rose said and Neil also studied the reaction of his friend. “He should not have mentioned the head.”, John agreed dryly while still becoming paler. Neil´s expression, meanwhile, became more worried. He also let his food be. “Do you need to get outside for a moment? Ok, there are monsters. Do you need to visits the men´s room for a moment?”, Neil asked. “I think I am ok. Just done with my meal.”, John answered. Then he chuckled slightly at first, then a bit more and a bit more until he almost laughed. Neil looked at his friend puzzled, while Rose smiled and also started to giggle and then laugh. Neil could not help it but also smiled. “What?”, Neil wondered. “Men´s room?”, Rose said. “Men´s room.”, John nodded. “Let´s go to the men´s room and do manly things, like throwing up.” “Now I get it.”, Neil now laughed as well. At the same moment, Becky showed up. “What´s up?”, Becky asked her friends, trying to shift between a concerned and an amused look on her face. Behind her, Mrs. Lancer was leaving the hall. “The boys were just joking about manly things.”, Rose explained. “Spot on.”, Neil added, while all three were looking after Mrs. Lancer. “How is Mrs. Tula?”, John wondered and nodded towards the spot where their teacher had just been. Becky explained that she had only talked briefly to Tula. Her husband had had even less time, but told Tula to go home and lock the doors. “Now she is on her way to wait this out alone at home.”, Becky concluded. “Like a lot of people.”, Neil observed which let Becky look even more worried. “There seems to be quite a number of people that did not followed here from the town hall.”, John jumped in. “A hand full of them seem to have decided it was better to go home or somewhere else.” “Not surprising. You lose always someone when you change the location. I thought that was part of the plan.”, Neil said. “No. It is better to have people here if they did not want to stay home.”, Becky defended herself. “Well, if I may something.”, Rose set on. “The cops told people to stay home and wait out the night. Some people had question or were angry about this and they showed up at the town hall. However, as we see now, only 40 or so are really interested beyond that. That is a small number even in our small town. Most people actually are following what Lancer and the police have told them.” “True.”, Becky nodded. “And yet here we are with the louder ones. Oh, and with him.”, Rose concluded and pointed towards Mr. W., standing in the middle of the dance salon, still in his camouflage vest and tracking suit. He remained there while Doctor Lancer finally climbed on to the stage and got to the microphone. He was flanked by Smith and Hooper who studied the crowd beneath them. Lancer lifted his hands and let them hover above the people in a reassuring gesture. He then tried to find calming words. His still shaky voice did not help selling that point. The doctor reiterated that there was a danger to the people of the town and that everybody needed to follow the official advice and take responsibility to get through this. There was, in fact, a monster on the prowl that had already claimed one victim. Lancer was visibly searching for the name of the unfortunate soul taken by the monster. In the end, he repeated his warning. Some people wondered where the mayor was and Lancer answered that the mayor was unavailable. People gasped. So Hooper leaned over to the microphone and said that the mayor was on a fishing trip, together with the sheriff. People gasped again. But Lancer, taking back the microphone, told everybody not to worry. There were protocols for that in place. So it was his task to lead a task force to deal with the situation. “Now, what gives you the authority to draft measures against monsters?”, a voice in the audience asked loudly. “What gives you the authority, when there is someone here that has excellent expertise on monsters?” “Is this?”, John wondered and Neil nodded. “Who are you?”, asked Hopper, again leaning in to get to the microphone. So MacShane introduced himself and took the opportunity to warn about the water. Any water. “This is not water related.”, Doctor Lancer replied and waved his hand. Some people gasped and were not satisfied with this and demanded that MacShane be heard. He did, meanwhile repeat his issues with water as source of ancient evil. “It is true you know. This town is cursed. There is an ancient sin that has been committed here by the people of this town. Such a sin cannot go without repercussions. One day, someone has to pay. And this day seems to have come now.”, Rose said in a loud pretend whisper that was clearly aimed at some people standing close by. Becky shook her head disapprovingly. “It is the nights when we pay the price.”, John added in a low voice. “True.”, Rose conceded with a nod. Then another voice was raised and it originated relatively closely to the group of friends. “This is the moment I and others have warned you before. We should not have let anybody into our town! And now we have this crime at our hands.”, Mr. W. exclaimed. “I say, close and guard the bridge. Where there is one monster, there might come more. There are some hones men I could call to help us hold the bridge.” “Who are you? Who said that?”, Hopper asked again and shielded his eyes to peer down from the stage into the ball room. Then he recognized Mr. W. “Oh you. We don´t need your so-called friends here. Was it not part of your sentence that you break ties with these individuals? Besides, the… monster looks like one of us, a local resident. The danger is already in our midst.” “He should not even address this guy.”, Rose grumbled. Becky and the others nodded. “This is not relevant.”, Becky yelled. On stage, Hooper blinked and then nodded as well. “If we are done with real questions, let´s rather go back to the water-guy instead of listening to Mr. W.”, Hooper said and then leaned back again. Mr. W. became furious and started to walk to the stage, pushing people aside. The stopped dead in his track when Fred showed up right in W.´s way. “I warned you, Eb. If you still can´t behave yourself, we need to throw you out. You and your ever ugly soccer world cup shirt and your vest and your hideous track suit. As I said, I made an exception by letting you stay. Even though you were banned before. Even though you have dressed like this. But now you crossed a line.”, Fred warned and stared W. dead in the eye. W. tried to stare back and even lifted himself up on his toes to tower even more above the smaller Fred. But Fred did not move. “There´s two options: You leave of your own terms. Or you leave with even more embarrassment than you already caused for yourself.”, Fred stated coldly. Another moment passed. But as W. saw that no one was taking his side, he grumbled and mumbled curses, and then turned around and left. There was an eight-handed applause, but it did not catch on. There was a moon above the water. He remembered seeing the moon above the ocean. Then he found himself close to a bridge. It had steered him here. He could jump the distance, he felt. Why would he jump the distance? Here had his home been. Here he had been trapped since the night of the fall. Why would he not leave this place, maybe try another? There must be a world out there. He had seen it. It pushed him. Then he noticed a movement and the hunger returned. A shape was standing in a metal box, making sounds. Noisy noisy sounds. Was this a warning? Memories found told of the danger that these shapes posed. Memories recently made told that the shapes could be dismantled, sliced up into delicious bits. There was fear and there was hunger. There would be a meal, a small sliver of warmth to quell the previously unknown hunger. And there was the fear. What was the shape doing? What was is yelling it. It pushed him to make the other stop.
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solomonherald · 4 years
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Foreign Affairs PS condemns irresponsible media reporting
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The article in the island sun further suggested that the ministry has downgraded its presence in Australia. However, Mr Beck clarified that contrary to that, Solomon Islands Acting Prime Minister wrote to his Australian counterpart, offering the service of the country’s fire brigade. The letter of condolence and support from Solomon Islands Government was sent through diplomatic channels this week. Mr Beck clarified that the country has increased its presence in Australia and investing more personnel to manage Solomon Islands –Australia relations. Solomon Islands now have a consulate general in Brisbane and a high commission in Canberra. Designate High Commissioner, Sisilo is due to travel out to Canberra this month. The article further misinformed the public reading stating that Counsellor Helen Beck will be crossed posted to Brisbane. Counsellor Beck is due back in the country this year. She will return from Canberra as soon after the new high commissioner settles in Canberra.  Presence in Australia will be further beefed up with an additional staff in Brisbane. Acting high Commissioner Walter Diamana will be supporting the new High Commissioner as the High Commissioner’s Deputy. Australia is Solomon Islands permanent neighbour, connected by geography. Australia is a good friend and neighbour to Solomon Islands. Misrepresenting and misreporting Solomon Islands –Australia relations at a time when our neighbour Australia is hurting by fire storm is irresponsible. The Solomon Islands Government will be making a contribution to support Australia, a gesture to a friend, wantok and neighbour. Thoughts and prayers are with the government and people of Australia during this difficult period. Meanwhile, an Interim Committee was formed to conduct arrangements with non-government organisations, NGO’s and other stakeholders to raise funds to support Australia. ori Read the full article
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realestate63141 · 7 years
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The Guide To Becoming Jared Kushner
NEW YORK ― When Charles Kushner was heading to federal prison in 2005 for illegal campaign contributions, tax evasion and witness tampering, his son Jared got some advice from Howard Rubenstein ― the dean of New York damage control ― on how to rehabilitate the Kushner name, Charles would later tell a family friend.
Step one: Buy a New York newspaper. Don’t be too particular, Rubenstein told Jared, according to the family friend’s recounting of their conversation with Charles. Any newspaper will do. Step two: Buy a big Manhattan building. Any building will do. Step three: Marry the daughter of a rich New York family. Anyone will do.
The younger Kushner went on to do just that. He bought the New York Observer in 2006, made a debt-laden $1.8 billion purchase of 666 Fifth Ave. in 2007 and married Ivanka Trump in 2009. (A Kushner Companies spokesman denied the family friend’s account. Rubenstein said: “That’s preposterous. I never said that or anything like that.”)
Whether or not Kushner was indeed working through a checklist, his actions during those years have served him well. They also laid the groundwork for the meticulous public relations strategy that has made possible Kushner’s current paradoxical role in the press, as a blameless yet uniquely powerful member of the Trump administration.
Long before he could afford the counsel of someone like Rubenstein, Jared’s father had a sense for how to shape perception to his advantage. In the 1990s, Charles Kushner bought a corporate box at New Jersey’s Giants Stadium on the 50-yard line ― right next to the box reserved for the team’s owners, the Tisch family, according to the Kushner family friend. At the time, the Kushner real estate business was still small, and Charles could barely afford the expense. (A Kushner Companies spokesman confirmed that the family had box seats but denies this characterization.) But he found a way, because he recognized that if you can get close enough to powerful and wealthy people, they’ll assume you are one of them. It’s exactly the sort of maneuver Howard Rubenstein would respect.
The New Yorker’s Ken Auletta condensed the highlights of Rubenstein’s client list in a 2007 profile: “George Steinbrenner, Rupert Murdoch, Donald Trump, and Leona Helmsley; the Museum of Modern Art, the Guggenheim, the Metropolitan Opera, the New York Philharmonic, and the Whitney Museum; BMW North America, Mount Sinai Hospital, Time Inc., Bloomberg L.P., and the notorious Lizzie Grubman. He has advised the last six mayors and the last four governors.” It’s a remarkable lineup, a who’s who of rich, powerful, nefarious, or just intermittently infamous New Yorkers. Martin Dunn, the former editor-in-chief of the New York Daily News, told Auletta that Rubenstein is “much more of a power broker than a public-relations man.”
The Kushners have always had a fleet of PR people working behind the scenes to fluff their image. Rubenstein and his son and protege Steven, who now runs the family business, worked for the Kushners until around late 2011. The Kushners then took their PR business to Matthew Hiltzik, a former aide to Hillary Clinton during her first Senate campaign who went on to work for Bob and Harvey Weinstein at Miramax Films, as well as Glenn Beck, Justin Bieber and Alec Baldwin. It was during his time at a Hiltzik client that Jared Kushner met Josh Raffel, one of the firm’s employees and the man Kushner recently tapped to lead communications for his government-wide innovation project. The White House declined to comment for this story.
In late 2014, Kushner stopped working with Hiltzik and began working with Roxanne Donovan, a PR maven the Observer once described as a “younger, sexier Howard Rubenstein.” Kushner also hired Harriet Weintraub, who has a specialty PR company for real estate and luxury brands, before hiring Risa Heller, a former press aide to notoriously media-savvy Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.), in November 2015.
Heller represented Kushner personally until this January, when he took an official role in the White House. She still represents his family company, where Jared has resigned his role in the family business and divested his ownership in some of the company’s businesses. Donovan, Hiltzik and Weintraub declined to comment for this story; Heller declined to comment beyond statements offered as a spokesperson for Kushner Companies.
Kushner now faces his greatest PR struggle yet, as the son-in-law and a senior adviser to a historically unpopular president whose flagship issues so far have included attempting to strip health care from millions of Americans and impose a constitutionally dubious immigration ban. Donald Trump has given Kushner a comically large set of responsibilities ― from setting American foreign policy in the Middle East to ending the opioid epidemic to revolutionizing the operations of the entire U.S. government.
While Trump dictates policy by Twitter and spends most of his time making impossible promises, Kushner is rarely quoted on the record. His few public statements consist of bland generalities and unwavering support for his father-in-law. Kushner rarely speaks on camera, a point “Saturday Night Live” recently mocked by having Jimmy Fallon play him for an entire sketch with no lines. A source close to Kushner said it’s simply part of his personality to let his actions speak for him.
The few existing videos of Kushner speaking on camera suggest a possible reason he doesn’t do it more: He’s not very good at it. Two brief videos from 2014 ― one from a real estate conference and one for the Jehovah’s Witnesses talking about his $700 million purchase of the group’s former Brooklyn headquarters ― show Kushner in his familiar uniform of a gray suit and dark tie, speaking blandly and without much conviction. With his soft voice and Tri-State Area accent, he sounds remarkably like his brother-in-law Eric Trump.
“I don’t talk to the press,” he told Forbes in December. But someone is clearly shaping his image in the media as a beacon of moderation, the man working to pull Trump toward consensus-minded policies and socially liberal politics.
Kushner and Ivanka “helped kill a proposed executive order that would have scrapped Obama-era L.G.B.T. protections,” The New York Times reported in February, based on “people familiar with the issue.” They also “intervened to strike language about the climate deal from an earlier draft of the executive order,” The Wall Street Journal reported a few weeks later, “according to multiple people familiar with the move.” Ivanka was in favor of bombing Syria, her brother Eric said, and Kushner supported the strike as well, according to unnamed sources.
The exact same nuggets that seem engineered to elicit sympathy for Kushner and his wife from one group ― the public writ large ― are why other White House insiders reportedly mock them as “globalists” who are Democrats in all but name. (That moniker is also supposedly bestowed on Goldman Sachs alums Gary Cohn, Trump’s National Economic Council director, and Dina Powell, who ran Goldman’s charitable activity and now serves as a deputy adviser on the National Security Council. The term “globalist” is widely understood to have anti-Semitic connotations, and Kushner, Ivanka and Cohn are Jewish.)
What the press anecdotes from unnamed sources don’t do ― the ones in this story included ― is explain Jared’s political beliefs. He keeps his views so hidden that it’s not clear whether he actually has any at all.
The White House’s on-the-record statements aren’t much help in figuring out what Kushner thinks. For instance, when The Associated Press ran a story on March 29 noting that Kushner’s ability to escape close scrutiny might be coming to an end, White House director of strategic communications Hope Hicks offered this: “Jared is a visionary with an endless appetite for strategic, inventive solutions that will improve quality of life for all Americans.”
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Project Wolf´s Cove
Seven – The Fear
When Neil walked out of the practice, he was composed: His eyes were dry, his mouth a contempt line, and despite being visibly tired, he took his steps controlled and found his footing every time. He was, however, thrown startled by finding a sizable group of people outside the doctor´s office. Sullyvan, Becky, and John stood on the curb, facing a growing crowd. “What is going on?”, Neil asked John in a whisper. “They found out that the bridge is gone and Sullyvan told librarian Smith about what happened to her sister.”, John explained. “How much panic is there going ´round yet?” “A lot I would say. And a lot pf pain as well.”, John answered. Neil then stepped to Becky and told her that there was a plan now. “What is the plan?”, Becky wondered. “Everybody stays at home. The collapsing bridge will get some attention and bring outside help. So we wait for that from the safety of our homes.”, Neil explained. “There are people here outside already and the bad news are spreading.”, Becky observed and Neil nodded. He spread his arms and asked for attention. After three repeats, he got some attention and could layout the plan. “Who are you?”, was the only reply. People were still scared and angry and talking over each other. “I´ll get the doctor.”, Neil stated and nodded and was gone.
“Can we discuss this at another time?”, Doctor Lancer said to Rose and his voice creaked, almost growled slightly. He then proceeded to take off his rubber gloves and to wash his hands in the small basin in his examination room. “I´d also prefer if we can put a pin into that for the moment.”, Hooper agreed and poked at his bandages. “It hurts.” “Yeah? Tell me if it gets worse. Then we can think about another dose. Also, leave the bandages alone, would you?”, Lancer replied and collapsed more than that he sat down on his chair behind the small desk. “Ok.”, Rose conceded, put away her sketch book, and the conversation ended, when Neil returned. Neil told the others about what and who he had found just outside the door. “I think, it requires someone with more authority to solve this situation, doc. Doctor.”, Neil said. Lancer sighed and seemed to remember that he had had a cigarette between his lips just hours earlier. He fumbled for it with his hands and looked around as if he just dropped it, of course in vain. He did not make any attempts to get up. “Doctor?”, Neil asked and Hopper gave Lancer a side glance. “I´d get up and to it – but I already almost died last night. Would like to avoid that.”, Hooper murmured. Lancer nodded and then let his head sink. “Give me a minute, please.” Deputy Sullyvan made some efforts to keep the crowd at bay. But he was unfocused and stuck his arms only halfway out instead of holding them up and his body tense. While he asked the people to wait for Doctor Lancer, he also tried to console librarian Smith and himself. Becky and John hung back a bit, standing closer to the entrance of the practice. They were largely ignored by the people. Becky made attempts to get them to listen, but did not have any success. She also tried to talk to Smith and Sullyvan, but they were absorbed in their hurt. “I wish I could reach them.”, Becky whispered. “There must be words that work.” “Do you want to reach all of them?”, John wondered, but immediately recognized the emptiness of his question. Becky nodded despite that. “This can´t be good.”, Becky commented. “I can´t reach these people. I even struggle with Sullyvan and he was along for most of it.” “We are what they see in us.”, John remarked. “That is why Neil is bringing the doctor back outside.” “Oh, poor guy, he looks spent.” Neil stood a few steps behind Lancer and next to his friends. The doctor explained the situation to the people who had assembled. He said the same as Neil before, but used a few different words. But the reaction was slightly more positive. “At least they listen to him still.”, Neil whispered to his friends. “Many are still unnerved and scared, though.”, Becky replied. “Yeah. So they should stay home. The monster might still be on the loose.”, Neil stated without emotion. “How do we get that message across to all who are not here right at this moment?”, she wondered. Neil smirked. “Telephone tree.” “So… they just call somebody who calls somebody who also calls somebody?”, John wondered. “…yes?”, Neil gave back. “How much information will survive between here and the moment it reaches the last one?”, John asked and Becky gasped a bit. Neil´s expression froze. “And what was that about turning the tables and turning the hunter into the hunted?”, John wondered. “Once we get help from the outside. Like the Army or something. Then they can hunt the monster.”, Neil said. “Do you think the people there got that?”, John asked. Neil´s expression was still blank. “Pretty good.”, Hooper said, looking at the ceiling. “Hm?”, Rose wondered. She had taken over Doctor Lancer´s chair and was leaning back. “Couple of hours ago, I thought I´d die by falling apart along fine cut lines at a very compromising location. I´m still alive. So far, I´m still alive. And I think the drugs are kicking in, finally.”, Hooper explained. Rose nodded and was about to close her eyes for a bit and settled down a bit more on the chair. Then her eyelids sprung open again. “You said the monster had a specific target and even hesitated?”, Rose asked the former sheriff. “Yeah.”, he replied. “For one moment, all I saw an older man ready to chase me away. He was maybe a bit too afraid. But who is not afraid?” “So there was a person?” “Never seen a person whose hands noodle off into tentacles with bone knives. Never knew how sharp these can pee.”, Hooper murmured. “Still, it hesitated. As if it was a person with very sickening powers.”, Rose insisted. “Sickening it was indeed last night. But was afraid to throw up while my tummy was cut open. Also, what would Stef say when I came home again covered in barf.” “Did the person say something?”, Rose inquired, eager to steer the conversation back to the realm of relevancy. “Growl, growl. Maybe. …No. Some people don´t talk much. When you are our age, you don´t have that much opportunity to have a chat anymore. That can have an effect, I guess. Not on me, of course. I can talk. And I always have been a talker. Stef said I was a good talker. Like…” Hooper giggled quickly and then did not say anything more. “Did you say something?”, Rose asked. “I talked a lot in my time.”, Hooper stressed. “To the monster, I mean.” “You don´t talk to monsters, mommy said.” Doctor Lancer had just spent a lot of time on questions from the people outside. By and by, they seemed to be satisfied for the moment. Some left and some hung around unsure as to what to make of the situation. So Lancer had some time to talk to librarian Smith and Deputy Sullyvan. Becky, Neil, and John sat on the steps of the doctor´s office. “At least it is day now. We are good during days, right?”, Neil said. “So far.”, Becky replied. “But this is not a vampire or something. We don´t know.” “Let´s not find out.”, Neil exclaimed. “Like, if we have the choice.” Beck stuck her arms out behind her, and leaned back. She was blinking while looking towards the perfectly blue summer morning sky. It promised to become another bright and warm early summer day. She closed her eyes and bathed in the warm and friendly sunlight for the moment. “When you look up, everything does not seem so bad at all. All our horror seems so far away just sitting here in the sun.”, Becky said in a soft voice. “Still, I´m shivering.” “We`re all tired.”, Neil observed. “We should get some rest and food and life, just to be on the safe side.” Becky smiled a thin and tired smile. “Good idea, Neil. Thank you.” She paused, before adding: “How are you, John?” “As you said, this situation feels as if it is flipping constantly on us. I would like this all to have been a nightmare. I would like to have Pipps back. It feels easy for me to go that way and to dream. But I am not sure what good such a dream would do.”, John said. “Maybe it would be worth to jump on the flip.”, Becky mused. “We know what is real, sadly. But that doesn´t mean that we can´t dream, can´t remember the ones we lost, and can´t hope for the moment we flip this for real and escape this horrible situation.” “How?”, John wondered. “Like this. Talk about it. This is one thing we can do: talk about it. Because we aren´t alone.”, Becky replied. “We aren´t alone.” “True. But what about the others?”, John wondered. “We can talk to them, but there is no way of knowing if they really listen.” “Yeah.”, Becky conceded. “On the other hand, this doesn´t change anything about the fact that we have each other. We can talk with each other.” “Hm. In the multiverse of social networks, we have our little corner to talk and to dream.” “Yes. And this is how we will get through this.”, Becky stated, now looking at her friends again. Neil chuckled and winked. “I´ve missed this.”, Neil exclaimed and opened his arms, just to then diffusely gesticulating at Becky and John. “This: You two just talking. Maybe this is wise or just as wise as every other teenager in the movies, I don´t care. I just love this.” “Maybe we should get Rose before this develops into a group hug.”, John answered somewhat muted. “I can check on her.” John stood up and went inside. Becky and Neil exchanged a glance, but opted for silence. John walked in on a disparate conversation between Rose and the former sheriff Hooper. At least Hooper was still alive. He still lay there, looking at the ceiling but talking like a waterfall, almost bubbling about everything and nothing. Rose was sitting at his side. She must have drawn the doctor´s chair towards the bed. Now, she was making brave attempts to construct or reconstruct a conversation. “A million butterflies, I told Stev. And no, I never called Stev “mother”, not even as a slip-up. Or “dad” for that matter.”, Hooper explained with an earnest expression that slipped over into a smile. “Yes, I got that.”, Rose answered. “How, though, would you describe last night to Stev?” “I´d not bother Stev with that. Not already. I always used to wait with some issues. ´Cause later is not too late. Unless it is. Which happens, right? My old man used to tell me he had stuff to tell me and then we… forgot to get to it. Just forgot it – or did not have time to talk about that before the end. Can I have a snack?” “Well… I can look around. While I do, could you try to remember if you talked to the man and the monster – or just the man?”, Rose asked. She got up and noticed John. “Do you know if there are snacks here?”, she asked John. John suggested there might be lollypops but he could help search for more. “Oh, and I heard some of the stuff you were talking about when I came in.”, John confessed while he and Rose rummaged in drawers and cupboards. “Good, then I do not need to waste some time to catch you up.”, Rose remarked. They opened a door and just found a bathroom. “Matter of fact, I just lied.”, John confessed again. “You do know where the snacks are?”, Rose wondered but John shook his head. “Oh, so you do not know what I was talking about when talking about talking to Hooper.” “I am way too tired to have followed whatever he has said.” The two opened another door and it led to a small coffee kitchen. In there, they discovered fruit and cookies, even five granola bars. “How many bars do you see?”, Rose asked while looking up from the food and at John. “Five.”, he answered. “True. We are not hungry enough yet to turn that into two and pocket the difference.”, Rose conceded. “Anyway, Hooper´s description of last night indicates that we are not facing a monster with a human face, but a… being that is partially alien and partially a person. There might be some part to talk to left in there.” “I do not see the difference. Oh, you mean that we can maybe more easily talk to one side, because it is closer to the people here.”, John thought aloud. They returned to the examination room and gave Hooper one granola bar. They also put some fruit on the side of his bed, close to his upper body. Then they both had a bar each, while leaving two. “There might be common ground and the possibility of communication. The monster might at least partially be more one of us than we thought.”, Rose commented. “People who eat people are not our kind of people.”, Neil protested and removed the wrapper from his granola bar. He and Becky had come in when they grew tired of waiting for the others to come back out. “Obviously, but it is kind of hard to ask someone to stop eating people if you do not talk to them.”, Rose gave back. “It might be an option, a possibility.”, John agreed. “There might be somebody left in there that we can made stop all this.”, Rose reiterated. “Even if this works, there would still be the issue of the crimes already committed.”, Becky weighed in. “These can´t be undone. Can we really let the beast re-join us?” All four were silent for a minute, just chewing on their granola bars. They all were dispersed over the examination room, leaning and half sitting on desk edges, or against shelves. For the moment, all four looked down at their feet. “When we held hands in the garden after dinner, that was nice.”, Hooper chimed in, his hands behind his back and his eyes closed. “Almost better than all that came after, even when the pants were down.” Neil cleared his throat and threw away the wrapper of his bar. He then proceeded to inspect some of the fruit Rose and John had found. “To talk to the beast does not mean to accept what it has done.”, John said. “But what about the person that might still in there with the monster? Should we not try to save that one?” Becky nodded and also Neil agreed. “I like the end scenario you´ve drafted, Rose.”, Neil finally said. “I do. The issue I have is that I don´t know how to get there. How do we establish communication with the… thing? How do we make it stop killing for long enough for us to ask it to stop altogether?” “Hooper said that the beast hesitated before and acted as if it was considering human lives last time.”, Rose said. Neil raised an eyebrow. “It still killed Pipps.”, he stated coldly. “And Smith. Consideration or not, the result was the same.” There was nothing any of the four could or wanted to say to that. So they left this moment blank, empty, emptied out by a loss. “I would like to hear more about what happened.”, was Johns try to restart the conversation. “The possibility sounds too good.” “Oh, what a sweet heartbreak.”, Hopper interjected. “And everything was worth it, even if it was just for the memory.” This time, Becky and John cleared their throats almost simultaneously. Then a quick glance flickered between them. All of a sudden, Hooper opened his eyes and looked around as if this was the first time he had ever seen the room. “Is there a phone here? I´d like to call someone, if I remember the number and if the number is still the same.”, Hooper said and then noticed the phone on Lancer´s desk. He gesticulated vaguely in the direction of the phone. Becky walked over to it, checked how long the line was, and then carried it over to Hooper´s bed. The former sheriff took it up with both hands and very eagerly started to dial while already humming into the receiver. The four kids decided to move their conversation to the tea kitchen. Hooper´s voice was audible through the closed door. His words could almost be guessed. He sounded happy and relaxed in any case. There were some pauses in the stream of his words, indicating that there was indeed a conversation going on and that he had reached someone with his call. “Maybe we should also make some calls when he is done.”, Becky suggested. “Can you call my folk? Or you, John? They might be at your grandma´s place.”, Neil asked. Instead of an answer, he got some disapproving glances from Rose and John. “Anyway… What happened that makes you think we could talk to this bone-blade wielding beast?”,  Neil then asked. Rose then repeated what Hooper had told her. “How… how would we even make a contact in the first place?”, Becky asked. Rose frowned and leaned against the mini fridge. “I do not know.”, she said instead of a real answer. “We were not so successful with getting ourselves heard in the first place. So I have no idea how to connect the town with the monster.” “We would need to create a situation; to create and control a situation, where we can have a nice chat with the person inside the monster or with both.”, John interjected. “Oh, that should be easy then.”, Neil gave back and scoffed. When he saw the reactions of his friends, he added: “Sorry. I wish it was easy. And I wish we would not run into walls in this town all the time.” “Yeah.”, Becky agreed and padded Rose and John on their shoulders. They were quiet for a moment and noticed that Hooper was not talking in the room next door anymore. “May I use the phone for a sec?”, Becky asked Hooper. The former sheriff nodded and leaned back on the bed again. He smiled a little smile, but his eyes were also watery. Unsure what to do with his hands, he had them at his sides and then moved them up and folded them behind his head, just to scratch his chin a second later. Becky took the phone and carried it back to the desk. She then tried to call her mom at home, but could only reach her still at the bar. They talked briefly, while Becky looked over to Hooper. After a few sentences were exchanged, Becky hung up. She then asked her friends: “Who´s next?” The others were a bit hesitant to jump the line to get on the line. Becky frowned at that. ���It´s important to keep communicating with each other. And it´s especially important now.”, Becky insisted. To that, Neil mumbled something, but in the end nodded and walked over to the desk. Becky left it to him and turned her attention back to Hooper. “How are you Mr. Hooper? How was your call?”, she asked. The older man smiled first a blessed smile, before his lips formed a tight line. He clicked his tongue and wiggled his feet. The last made him wince a little. “Good, good.”, he finally said. “Nice conversation, everybody is fine. It just has been a long time, and me talking about how the sunshine feels on my soul in the morning after having just survived a monstrous encounter, did possibly not help. But it is fine.” “Well, at least the number was still correct.”, Becky said and smiled at him. Hooper nodded. “Who knew that I´d remember it after these years. And could make myself remembered.”, the old sheriff added. “That is something, I guess.” “Yes, it is.”, Becky agreed and nodded even though Hooper was not looking at her, but stare straight ahead. Meanwhile, Neil handed off the phone to John, also with a reassuring and way to serious nod, as if this was the line to the president. Then most of the friends and Hooper were silent, so silent that now, everybody in the room could clearly hear what John was talking to his grandma about. He seemed to be affected, cutting his answers shorter and shorter. When he was in danger to become monosyllabic, Becky cleared her throat and made an effort to avert her gaze and instead focus on the others. “How is everyone doing?”, she inquired and looked around. “Tired.”, Neil answered. “Tired and still a bit hungry. Also super giddy.”, Rose agreed. “Giddy, without knowing what to do with that perceived energy supply, right?”, Neil asked. “Yes!”, Rose exclaimed and she and Neil smiled in mutual recognition. “I´m alive.”, Hooper then said. “But the colors start to melt away from the world. It also used to warmer I think. Maybe I should go outside. Or crawl. I´d like to take in some sunlight in any case. Before the night falls again and we are no longer save.” “Taking in some sunlight is a great idea.”, Becky decided and supressed a yawning. “I like the sunlight, like how it brightens up the whole season, how it even reaches you through closed eyelids, and how it feels like a warm embrace on your skin.” She extended a hand to Hooper to help him up. She also looked at Rose and Neil, suggesting them to join with a smile and a nod to the side, towards the door. “I do not like the sun so much. And I have no sun lotion on me at the moment.”, Rose said. “Oh, and I am still in line.” Becky and Neil accepted that and now both got to help Hooper up from the bed. Before they could complete this task, before they could leave the room and the building and bath in sunlight, Doctor Lancer stormed in. He was carrying a mobile radio transmitter. The device looked dated, but it could be connected to a power outlet. Once this was done, Lancer switched it on, filling the room with crackling static and then the crackling voice of Deputy Sullyvan. “I have to hang up now. Hear you later.”, John said, his voice almost trailing of, and put down the receiver. “Now we can at least communicate constantly. The deputy is out in the town to see how well the people are understanding the curfew order.”, Lancer explained. “You have to push the button to talk and leave it be to hear. You just did it the wrong way around.”, Hooper remarked. Lancer did not answer but he did adapt. Then he did not find something to say immediately and so was silent for a while. The others in the room did the same. They all listened intently and stared at the radio as if this would make it emanate more than cackling noises. “So… Main Street is empty.”, Deputy Sullyvan reported after a while. His words were quitted with nods all around the doctor´s examination room. “Good.”, Lancer replied. What followed was more waiting. John took his eyes off the radio and looked through the windows and at the summer day outside. It would be noon soon. Becky noticed John´s shift in attention. She sought his gaze and nodded. It was still safe in the light. Both, Becky and John lost some of their tension. They sat down on the foot end of the bed, having literally Hooper´s feet between them. There they continued to wait and hope that nothing would happen. In time, Rose and Neil noticed the change in their friends and grew tired of staring at the radio themselves. Rose went over to the desk and Neil sat down on the office chair behind it. He led his hands glide over the desktop until his arms were extended as far as he could extend them and he took in most of the surface. “Are you taking in how it is to sit behind a desk?”, Rose whispered. “Yes, just to see how it might feel to have one of my own.”, Neil whispered back. “So?” “So… so.”, Neil decided and frowned. The two fell silent when the radio started to transmit Sullyvan´s words again. “I think there are people here. Several. I´m now close to the bridge… to where the bridge used to be.”, the deputy reported. “I´ll better stop and check this out.” “Remind them please of the curfew.”, Lancer said. “Button.” “Remind them of the curfew… please.”, Lancer repeated. He button clicked when he let go if it again. There was silence until Sullyvan radioed back in: “Yeah, the folks here are not so easily convinced to go home. They said they want to hunt the beast themselves.” “Please try again. And can you leave this channel open? I would like to hear what they say.”, Lancer said. “Ok. But they wandered off already. I´ll try my best.”, Sullyvan replied and this time his words were followed by the noise of his footsteps. “Now we can´t really talk to him anymore.”, Hooper observed. “We can´t reach him.” Through the radio´s speaker came still just steps and a few breaths of Sullyvan. In the distance, there were even some voices to be heard, but not understood. “They are not really waiting for me.”, Sullyvan complained. “Wait, there is another one. Hey mister! Good day sir, but please go home now.” “No way out of here anymore. Nowhere to go. I want to go.”, an unknown voice said. “Sorry? Yes, the bridge is gone. Please go home until we fixed this. Is everything ok?”, Sullyvan asked. “Help.” “Are you hurt, your face looks burned… Wait… is this you?” “Help… way out.” Lancer, still hunched over by the radio, clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. All others returned their attention to the radio as if them looking at it could change something. A strange sound emerged meanwhile from the radio. Like a human voice trying to find its way out of throat that was transforming, twisting, splitting apart. There were also screams. Not Sullyvan´s or of the one he was talking to. The voices of others came closer again. They yelled and some threatened, all were terrified. “Stand back folks.”, Sullyvan said in a breaking voice. A gun was drawn and cocked. Then there was a shot, coming not from close by, not from Sullyvan, but from farther away. It must have just missed the deputy. Becky and John jumped off the bed, and then stood lost in the room far away from the shot. Hooper also jerked up, then clenched his wounds and sunk back to the bed. Rose and Neil were also standing again. All eyes were glued to the radio, no one dared to speak. “Stop, get back! You as well!”, Sullyvan cried out. Something rattled, maybe the handcuffs at his belt. He must have turned around very quickly. Another shot could be heard, coming from far away again, passing by the deputy and hitting the sidewalk as it sounded. Concrete splintered, while there was also another stretching noise and the whoosh of a sharp edge cutting through the air. Then this noise was repeated again and again. People started to scream even more and to run. Sullyvan also screamed. His scream then became more high-pitched suddenly, as fabric was torn and flesh ripped. Wet noises spilled out of the radio, while Sullyvan abruptly stopped screaming. He also must have taken his fingers off the button. His line went dead and there was only static on the radio. Lancer pushed his button and opened his mouth. No words came out and so he let go of the button and the receiver and let himself glide to the floor. He stumbled through the streets not wanting to remember the last moments of his life. Fear had won again, it had clawed back again. Again, someone was lying dead on the floor. He ran away as soon as he could. Screams echoed in his mind. He remembered that these moments had been sweet before he knew them. Now he was running from it and himself as much as from the shots. If there was a place to run to. If there were places left on this strange world. All this was not what he had dreamed of when he had come here. He had not dreamed much, but had wanted to save his life. Now it made him vade in blood and, even worse, now it was the blood of people he knew.
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solomonherald · 4 years
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Foreign Affairs PS condemns irresponsible media reporting
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Permanent Secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and External Trade, MFAET, Collin Beck has condemned media reports suggesting that the Permanent Secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and External trade shot down a suggestion to send fire fighters to Australia. The article in the island sun further suggested that the ministry has downgraded its presence in Australia. However, Mr Beck clarified that contrary to that, Solomon Islands Acting Prime Minister wrote to his Australian counterpart, offering the service of the country’s fire brigade. The letter of condolence and support from Solomon Islands Government was sent through diplomatic channels this week. Mr Beck clarified that the country has increased its presence in Australia and investing more personnel to manage Solomon Islands –Australia relations. Solomon Islands now have a consulate general in Brisbane and a high commission in Canberra. Designate High Commissioner, Sisilo is due to travel out to Canberra this month. The article further misinformed the public reading stating that Counsellor Helen Beck will be crossed posted to Brisbane. Counsellor Beck is due back in the country this year. She will return from Canberra as soon after the new high commissioner settles in Canberra.  Presence in Australia will be further beefed up with an additional staff in Brisbane. Acting high Commissioner Walter Diamana will be supporting the new High Commissioner as the High Commissioner’s Deputy. Australia is Solomon Islands permanent neighbour, connected by geography. Australia is a good friend and neighbour to Solomon Islands. Misrepresenting and misreporting Solomon Islands –Australia relations at a time when our neighbour Australia is hurting by fire storm is irresponsible. The Solomon Islands Government will be making a contribution to support Australia, a gesture to a friend, wantok and neighbour. Thoughts and prayers are with the government and people of Australia during this difficult period. Meanwhile, an Interim Committee was formed to conduct arrangements with non-government organisations, NGO’s and other stakeholders to raise funds to support Australia. ori Read the full article
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