#but has no idea she's being investigated because of the dashed papers to mark. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whosscruffylooking · 4 years

Text

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence.

A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy!

The Purest Things Masterlist

(my gif! please credit if you use.)

january 2008

Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”

+++++

Your alarm is often hushed before it even has an opportunity to set off nowadays because you usually wake up before it even has the chance.

4:25 A.M.

You groan and toss your pillow over your face. Maybe, just maybe, you can will yourself to sleep for a little longer. As if someone heard your pleas for slumber, your phone starts buzzing on your bedside table. Of course, it is unnecessary for you even to read the messages. There is a case.

+++++

"Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted," J.J. begins, "She's the third to go missing in the last 6 weeks. All disappeared from public places. No one's seen them since until now. A couple days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park that was once the site of the battle of Chancellorsville."

"Were they able to make an I.D.?" you and Hotch ask simultaneously. Your eyes meet, but he breaks the contact abruptly. Flustered and insecure, you bury your focus deep into the file in front of you. The group discusses the case for a couple of minutes, but you are so concentrated on the papers that you hardly absorb any information they've shared.

There is something familiar about this case to you. Suddenly, realization strikes.

Rejoining the discussions, you say, "I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania county. Similar markings on the bone. It was the winter of 1980, also in Fredericksburg. There were 5 women aged 16 to 24. They were buried in pieces."

"Same markings. Same civil war battlefield," J.J. responds in agreement.

The team agrees that this could be the works of the same killer. There are aspects of the more recent killings that would be impossible to copycat since those details had never been released to the public. But, if this is the same unsub, what's he been doing for the past 27 years?

+++++

Hotch focuses on the road while you watch out the window of the passenger seat. Occasionally, you sneak the odd peek at him. His stoicism is alluring, and you find yourself drawn to this demeanor like a moth to a flame. Piecing together the tiny glimpses you've collected thus far as if working on a mental puzzle, you scrutinize his attributes. His eyes bare the beginnings of crow's feet. Only his sideburns tease the speckling of salt and pepper undertones. His lips turn downwards at the corners, no doubt from years of scowling at unsubs.

Reid speaks up from behind you both and breaks your train of thought. Probably for the better, there's no reason why you should examine your unit chief so intently.

"It's funny--he always dumps the bodies in this battlefield, no matter what the risk."

"It's a respected landmark. He's flaunting," Aaron reckons.

"It makes him feel important," you say in agreement.

Once you have arrived at the crime scene, you follow Agent Hotchner closely. Reid trails ahead, most likely trying to keep up with his own train of thought.

"How does someone not see or hear them?" You ask the sheriff.

He turns to you with a defeated expression, "It was dark. He had the advantage. Molly's boyfriend was the last person to see her. He said she was alone for a minute, maybe less."

Hotch surveys the surroundings, "He's patient and works fast."

"He's perfected his M.O.," Reid states while looking around.

You cross your arms as a wave of unease gets the best of you as you envision the moments leading to Molly's attack.

"If our unsub's pushing 60, he's gotta be strong enough to carry her a long way without her struggling," you bring out.

Hotch looks to you with a concerned squint. You shake your head, signaling to him that it's nothing you can't get under control. He nods in response. The sheriff agrees to point out the various entrances to the park.

"I'll catch up with you," your Unit Chief states. He motions for you to step aside with him, and you comply.

"You know, ever since my wife and I had our son, I dread receiving cases involving children," he discloses to you.

Tears well up in your eyes, "I can't even imagine, but sir, why are you telling me this?"

"This job will inevitably strike close to home on some cases more than others. It's okay for you to feel overwhelmed by it all every once and a while," he assures you.

"You never lose it, though."

He sighs heavily, "Maybe I should have."

Shortly before you joined the BAU, Hotch's wife Haley left with their son Jack. You never ask questions or stick your nose where it doesn't belong. It isn't your place, and you can't blame him for not wanting to bring his family struggles to work. He deals with enough broken families on the job as it is. Mixing his own personal life into the field would only make it more challenging to prioritize. Despite all this, you cannot help but wonder what exactly led to his and his wife's separation. You hope that they can find their way back to each other. The crimes you investigate do not need to claim the Hotchner's as victims as well.

+++++

"I'll let you talk to Chrissy Wilkenson," Hotch directs you towards the kitchen. You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants and make your way into the kitchen, Hotch following closely behind you.

"Mrs. Wilkenson," you say gently, "My name is Y/F/N. I have just a few questions about your husband. Where does Charlie usually go when he's stressed?"

"The barn," she stutters. You can tell she's anxious and afraid for the well-being of her family.

"Anywhere else, Chrissy?"

Hotch is called into the other room, and you continue questioning Chrissy. She's becoming overwhelmed, so you guide her to the dining room.

"I know this is difficult, Chrissy."

"Did the father of my child really do that to those poor women?" She cradles her baby bump.

Your heart breaks for her, and you choose to remain silent. Sometimes saying nothing speaks louder than words.

Footsteps bound throughout the house, and Hotch appears in the doorway, "The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkenson. We need you with us."

Standing up from your chair, you place your hand atop Chrissy's, "History doesn't have to repeat itself." It is almost as if she could tell you were reading her thoughts. The endless whispers that cloud her mind making her feel like she's left with only one choice, but there's always another option. That is all you are trying to remind her of.

+++++

As you and your team trek through the forest, you see a clearing.

"Hotch, this way," you beckon him to pursue your course.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, and you stop in your tracks. You make eye contact with Hotch and mirror each other's actions, dashing towards the opening in the trees. Your heart pounds in rhythm with your footsteps colliding against the ground. It is clear to you from your exchange with Chrissy at the house that the origin of the gunshot will shock everyone but yourself. As you reach the clearing and rush down the hill, your speculation is validated.

Chrissy Wilkenson is standing over the body of her husband, the unsub. A traumatized young man haunted by his father's past and plagued by the idea that children are trapped in the endless cycles created by their parents.

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Jesus. Now is not the time for that.

The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyways. Inside, you feel conflicted while watching her get into the back of the squad car.

Hotch appears by your side but remains silent. Again, sometimes silence speaks louder than words. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the fact that it is trembling.

"What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?"

"I told her that history does not have to repeat itself. I wanted her to know that even when it feels like you are backed into a corner, there is always another way out. Sometimes people don't know where to look for their out thought," you quiver.

He lightly touches your arm and gives you a reassuring tilt of the head, "Just know that you did everything you could. We will never do this job perfectly. Doing the right thing usually costs more than it pays. You did your part. I'm not a saint, and I am far from a hero, but I have integrity and honor, and I do this job to the best of my ability."

"If you can leave a case with a clear conscience," he continues, "you know you did the best you could. Any other thought process will eat away at you slowly but surely, and ultimately, it will result in the demise of your career and destruction of yourself."

+++++

After a seemingly neverending day, you all arrive back at Quantico.

"I could really go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie's buying," you wave your wallet around frivolously.

"I could go for 5 drinks!" Prentiss exclaims.

"Count me in," Morgan winks at you. He never fails to make you blush.

Reid hesitates and you pout your bottom lip, "Please Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?"

Hotch comes down the stairs, "Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?"

You and Derek snicker to each other as Spencer attempts to diffuse his own embarassment.

"9 to 5 is an iconic female anthem that certainly has a rather bewitching affect on a man when mixed with alcohol."

"You only drank Diet Coke that night," you roll your eyes at him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group formed around the desks.

Making your way over to him, you invite him to join, "Want a beer?" You second guess yourself, but it seems as though his rather stern expression softens ever so slightly when he pivots on his heels to look at you.

"I would like that," he answers softly.

He immediately returns to his original path and hovers near the glass doors. You casually make your way over to him, joined by Dave and Emily. A man barges in through the glass doors announcing Aaron's name.

"Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes," the subject in question breaths out almost defeatedly.

The yellow package he holds in his hands is all too familiar and instantly churns your stomach into knots. You gnaw at your bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste that causes you to cringe.

"What is it?" Emily speaks up.

There's no question as to what it is. Oh Hotch. I’m so sorry.

Hotch's eyes trace the package from corner to corner in disbelief, "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

When he eventually takes his eyes off of the lettering, his eyes meet yours. They lock onto you and it is in that moment that you feel as though you have been given the key to unlock his soul. His eyes are so unusual at this moment; they are more vulnerable than you have ever seen. The stoic man is gone, and instead, it is the eyes of one who is in tremendous pain. You had mistaken his bloodshot eyes for physical fatigue on the plane, but now you see that it is emotional exhaustion as well.

If only you knew how badly I want to hug you and tell you that you won't be swallowed up by this darkness. There's a long road ahead, but you have so many people here who love you and are here to support you through this. You aren't alone. Trust me, I know.

In some way, you pray that he can read into your soul and see the pain you feel for him. Once more, your shared silence proves to speak for itself.

At last, he breaks eye contact with you and finally releases the breath that you had been holding in. Dave grabs onto your arm, seeing the clear impact Hotch's news has on you, no doubt having also noticed Hotch's immediate response in looking at you.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can join you tonight," he excuses himself and escapes to the seclusion of his office.

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

Tag List:

@chellybear98 @destiny-tsukino @wanniiieeee @sweetiecake180 @vampiracontessa @weexinling @spaghetti-dad187 @hothskies @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @mac99martin @clairedragonessbaker @cecemariee7302 @halloweenwithreid @megans-txmblr @theoldestguard @purpledragonturtles @chazubagi @frogrrylovebot @agentaaronhotass @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @mcntsee @ssagube @softhetixx @kenzies-mr-j @peachyotps @cat11-2 @prettylittlemoonlight @ravenmoore14 @gubs-boobs @spencerreidsoulmate @joyclubie

172 notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 5 years

Text

☄ ----- MOONRISE RADIO.

summary: you’re hawkins high’s new science teacher, faculty advisor for the newly reinstated hawkins av club, and crazy townie who overhears a russian comminucae on a broken ham radio. chief jim hopper is into it. joyce is a good wing-woman and the kids just want to listen the the buggles. pairing: jim hopper x reader, murphy as a placeholder surname. rating: t, some swears. word count: 3.8k a/n: this is a season three au! here’s the set up for all the drabbles i am going to end up writing for hopper bc he literally owns my whole ass, thanks, enjoy ;)

Hawkins, Indiana is a small town.

For this exact reason, Chief of Police Jim Hopper knows everyone.

... Seriously.

Everyone.

Hawkins is kind of like Saturn: try to leave its orbit and you’ll get caught in the rings -- literally. Y’know, high school sweethearts marry one another, settling down, and boom! Hopper winds up at their end-of-the-cul-de-sacs on domestic dispute calls and reunites with that shithead co-captain of Hawkins basketball team who keyed his car Sophomore year.

Life in Hawkins is a never-ending cycle of existence that renders everyone in the small town a familiar face. Everyone knows everyone’s business. Everyone knows everyone.

And everyone certainly knows Jim Hopper.

So, imagine his surprise when after her first day of high school, over a ravoli dinner, El nudges a crumbled pink piece of paper his way with an excited look on her face. The paper is well-loved paper and home to her new class schedule, a point of interest -- she’s marked what classes she has with the boys and Max.

“I like science,” she says with a full mouth, “Fun.”

El points to her sixth period.

Imagine Chief of Police Jim Hopper’s surprise when he sees an unfamiliar name. Someone he doesn’t know.

And she teaches science.

Summer fades with a wave of heat and full moons.

The last week of August creeps up on you and before you even realize it, you’re moving into the cleared out room of a retired Mrs. Gomez and hanging your own name up on the door along with three planetary mobiles, a periodic table and a big exo terra tank for the freshmen class pet on the back windowsill.

One period turns into six, and a week turns into three.

Your life begins again, Hawkins style.

“Miss Murphy!”

You’re wiping down the chalkboard, smearing drawings of ionic bonds into dust when the stampede begins.

Typical Friday.

You like Mike and Will and Lucas and Dustin and El and Maxine. The little squadron of hellions had managed to win you over easily within the first three weeks of school -- between the abundant D&D references and constant “curiosity voyages”, you’d seemingly become their go-to with questions, gossip, and over-all mentor-ship.

The whole bunch of them sat together in your sixth period class, and the whole bunch of them were really the only ones excited about Dash, that aforementioned freshmen class pet that you’d scooped up behind the school and saved from being roadkill.

El immediately wanders to the tank and makes sure the heat lamp is on.

You can’t help but smile. These are good students. You like them. They like you.

Maybe it’s because when you were younger, you were just like them.

It’s like a sixth sense. They just... know.

“We have a question.”

“Is it about reptiles again?” you chirp, wiping your hands, “I don’t know, like, anything about komodo dragons, Dustin, I told you --”

“No!” Dustin waves his hands, hopping up onto the edge of your desk, “No, this is about the AV Club.”

“AV Club?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “The AV Club!”

You blink. All six of them are looking at you expectantly. You deadpan.

“You lost me.”

“She’s new here, guys,” Will sighs, gently nudging Lucas who makes an O with his mouth, “Remember?”

“Right, right, right,” Dustin sighs, waving his hands with a charismatic no-front-teeth smile, “Sorry, Murph, my excitement precedes me --”

You shoot Dustin a look. No nicknames. He knows the rule.

“Make it quick,” you groan, waving an apologetic Dustin off your desk as you begin to collect papers from the previous period, “I have the open house tonight and I gotta get some grading done before -- you’ve got fifteen to catch me up on this AV Club thing.”

Lucas claps his hands. They all settle into the desks in-front of you.

You narrow your eyes.

Mike begins.

“So, there’s all this old radio station equipment in the top of the gym...”

You wring your hands.

You fiddle with the hem of your dress.

This is nerve-wracking.

For the first time in a while, you curse the fact you’ve got mostly freshmen in your classes -- with every new round of bright blue visitors stickers, parents are eager to pick your bones when you begin talking about your curriculum, expectations and the like. I mean, it’s good, you guess, that there’s parents who are engaged but... as a new teach at Hawkins, you can’t help but feel like you’re missing a part of the bit.

It’s nearing the end of the night now and you’ve noticed the parents don’t greet you like they do the other teachers. Like... like friends.

Maybe it’s because you’re new.

New to the town, too. Not just teaching high school science, you mean.

You wonder if all the news stories pouring out of that Hawkins Lab have anything to do with how cheap rent is in the area. The multi-family unit you’ve settled into is in a nicer suburb in town -- green lawns, a playground, neighborhood BBQs... You’d moved on the pretense of your hiring, excited at the chance to get out of the city for a while and live a quieter life.

You jump six feet in the air when someone knocks on the door-frame of your classroom.

“Oh my god --”

Your hand flies to your chest.

“Uh, sorry -- Sorry, is this... is this Miss Murphy’s room?”

The first thing you notice is the badge. It glints in the florescence.

The next thing you notice is... him. I mean, he’s tall -- tall and broad and intimidating but... soft. His eyes are tired and his voice is quiet and you’re staring, Jesus Christ, you’re staring --

Chief of Police Jim Hopper has never felt smaller.

You’re new -- definitely new. Hopper knows, in that moment, that you must be, He would remember someone like you. I mean, how could he not?

(Everyone knows he’s got a soft spot for beautiful women, but he’s damn near mush right now. Pudding. His knees are pudding. He is an idiot and his knees are pudding.)

He makes the doorway look tiny.

You sputter. “Y-yes! Yes, it is. Hi, I’m, uh, Miss Murphy.”

“I figured,” he chirps, lips quirking under his mustache. He waves the piece of paper in his hands, “Kinda... kinda said so on the schedule, y’know?”

“Jim!”

Immediately, someone shoulders his backside.

Right in the damn kidney.

“Christ, Joyce, ow --”

“Be nice!” she cries with a laugh, stepping around him.

The woman is comically smaller than the police officer before you. Joyce has a kind smile and sweet doe eyes and she excitedly rushes to shake both your hands in her own.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she gushes, “Will has said so many great things about you --”

Your eyes widen. “You’re Will’s mother? Will Byers?”

“Yes!” she nods, “Yes, and, uh, this is Hopper --”

Joyce nearly snorts when Jim just blinks. She elbows him. He jumps.

He was staring.

“Jim Hopper,” he clears his throat, trying to regain any semblance of composure. This really knocked him off his game -- you really knocked him off his game. He was fully expecting some nasty old widow to be teaching, not a young, brightly dressed woman who’s smiling at him, Christ almighty, smiling, “Chief of Police.”

He offers his hand. You shake it and your lips quirk. “Are you... here to investigate me, or...?”

“Oh!” his eyes widen, “No, no, uh -- El is my daughter. Adopted.”

“Ah, right. Miss El. Got it,” you laugh a little, nodding, “Groovy.”

“Groovy.”

(Joyce narrows her eyes, grinning between yourself and Hopper. Groovy indeed.)

“She was nice.”

Jim’s cigarette glows red in the evening September air. Joyce, beside him, has this horrible, conniving look on her face -- the same look she gave him when she convinced him to ask Jenny Gonzalez out Junior year -- and Jim immediately goes on the defense.

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Miss Murphy,” Joyce grins, “I saw you staring.”

“I was not.”

“C’mon, Jim,” she chirps, “She’s pretty --”

“Yeah, a pretty bad idea.”

Joyce rolls her eyes so hard Hopper can feel it.

“Listen,” Jim says, flicking his cigarette into the pavement, “With everything goin’ on, I don’t have time for something like that.”

“Jim, stuff like that doesn’t care if you’ve got time.”

Joyce watches him climb into his truck. He slams the door shut,

“If it’s meant to be, it happens anyways!”

He narrows his eyes.

Then, cranks the window down and raises one finger.

“Not on my watch.”

Famous last words, Jim Hopper. Famous last words.

Happy Monday.

“I’m joining AV Club.”

“...What?”

“AV Club. Science. Fun.”

Hopper just takes a looooooong sip from his morning coffee. Eleven stabs her eggos. She forks a hunk into her mouth and chews.

Hopper takes another sip.

“AV Club.”

“Yes. Radios.”

“Radios.”

“Yes.”

You’re sweating.

The storage space of Hawkins High’s gym is ninety degrees at least -- and here you are, brandishing a flashlight in the dark as the Mighty Hellions dig through the space and pull box after box from the makeshift sauna.

“Think this stuff still works, Murph?” Maxine asks.

You ignore the informal nickname and pull open a box to eye a bundle of cables. They’re in good shape. The mic, at the bottom, is too if not a little grimy.

“I don’t see why not.”

After a grueling hour and a half, they finally set up shop in the closet across the hall from your classroom. It’s usually where they keep glassware and Bunsen burners but... with a little begging and a dejected look from Dustin, you grant them their plea and help them set up the impromptu radio station with relative ease.

The desk in the center of the room -- Mrs. Gomez’s old one -- is a little wobbly, but it works.

“And now,” says Mike, “The moment of truth.”

El flicks the switch.

And nothing happens.

Not so Happy Monday.

"How was AV Club?”

“Sad.”

Hopper’s mouth is full.

“Sad...?”

“Radio is broken.”

“Oh,” Hop hums, “M’ sorry, kid.”

“It’s okay,” El says slowly, looking out the window on the ride home, “Miss Murphy buying us new wires.”

Hopper blinks. “Miss Murphy?”

“Yes. Nice.”

Very.

Joyce rings you out the next evening at Melvald’s.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try Starcourt.”

You laugh a little. “What, that super mall?”

“I heard they’ve got everything,” Joyce chirps, “Will and the kids go there nearly every weekend. Ice cream, movies... you name it. A great place for a date, I bet.”

You laugh and pull out your wallet. “Oh to be young and in love.”

“No kidding,” she grins, taking the cash, “Speaking of... are you...?”

“Young?” you laugh, propping your elbows up on the counter, “Or in love?”

“Either.”

You like Joyce. She’s funny.

“No,” you sigh, “Nope. No, not right now. Neither. I spend my Tuesday nights with wine and a TV dinner.”

“Y’know,” Joyce hums, a knowing look in her eye as she bags the radio supplies, “I know someone who does the same exact thing.”

It’s Miller High Life, actually. And Tostitos.

That’s besides the point, though, because while Joyce is still very much on his case about the new science teacher, Jim is very much focused on the fact none of the stations god damn radios are working.

He could really go for a beer right now.

Something is jamming the signal.

Actually, to clarify -- the same fucking song on repeat is jamming the signal.

For the last two hours, it’s just been Video Killed the Radio Star by The Buggles over and over and over and over again. And then again, just for good measure. On the fourth round of the song, Jim had unceremoniously lobbed his walkie across the station. On the tenth, he’d yanked the chord for the radio out of the wall.

If Hopper hears that fuckin’ oh oh sound one more time, he’s going to lose it.

Callahan just shrugs when, finally, the music stops and the booming voice of Dustin Henderson comes over every walkie in the room.

“GOOOOOOOOOOD EVENING, HAWKINS INDIANA!”

Hopper peels into the high school parking lot.

Long strides carry him through halls that he knows way too damn well -- halls that wind and turn and lead him right to room 305. Your name is scrawled across the door alongside a picture of a constellation and a beaker.

But, the classroom is empty.

And then he hears it.

“-- OH OH! VIDEO KILLED THE RADIO STAR! --”

“I am so sorry, Chief Hopper -- I had no idea that was the PD’s frequency.”

You’re wringing your hands but you’re also two beats from laughing and Hopper is really trying to keep it together because... I mean, it’s funny.

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels bad. He... well, he probably shouldn’t have slapped the broadcasting mic out of Dustin’s hands. He’s got a short wire now-a-days, blame the whole Hawkins Lab incident and the fact he’s essentially harboring a fugitive and allowing aforementioned fugitive to go to high school and jam radio channels with Today’s Top 40 in her free time.

“No, no -- I... It’s fine. It’s fine, really, just...”

Hopper drops his hand. You’re trying your best to hide a smile that’s threatening to sweep across your whole face.

“Do not let Dustin play any more of The Buggles, okay?”

You chew your lip and lean closer, whispering. “... Did it really play for two hours straight?”

Hopper’s nostrils flare. He nods weakly. You note the missing walkie from his belt.

And then you burst into laughter.

You buy more cassettes at Melvald’s the next week.

“Oh,” Joyce grins, holding up a Madonna album before scanning it across check-out with a beep, “Nice stuff -- is this for AV Club?”

You laugh. “Let me guess, Chief Hopper told you about ‘The Incident’?”

Joyce's lips quirk and she tilts her head, eyeing you carefully as you bite back a smile and muscle out your wallet from your bag. “... No, he did not.”

“The kids were on the wrong frequency,” you gesture, a bit sheepish, “And, I mean, I had no idea until Chief Hopper had to come to the high school and let us know that he’d been listening to Video Killed the Radio Star for two hours straight.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah,” you raise your brows, pull a face and mimic the catchy hook, “Oh oh god.”

Joyce snorts.

“It’s not working!”

“Boys,” you sigh heavily, “Just... Just let me look at it.”

There’s a scramble and the sea of bodies part. Max and El are posted by the door, watching with a dejected sort of disappointment. Your knees hit the floor and you ignore the fact your jeans are going to be covered in nasty dust from the underside of Mrs. Gomez desk. Your necklace jingles and you sigh, settling on your back and waving for Dustin to pass you the flashlight.

“Did Hopper break it?” it’s Mike, “If Hopper broke it, I swear to shit --”

“Language.”

“Sorry.”

You squint, pushing apart the mess of wires and sighing loudly when you find the problem.

It’s... weird. Like... Like some of the wires have been chewed clean through.

“Looks like one of the wires is frayed.”

“Frayed?!”

You take the main component home with you.

It’s sitting on your passenger side seat when you pull into Melvald’s.

In the spot in-front of the store sits a Hawkins Police Dept. truck with a CHIEF decal on the side.

“She’s funny and smart and came in here and talked about you --”

“Talked about me?” Jim’s leaned against the counter, coke in his hands, “Hold on, what? You didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah,” Joyce’s voice lilts, “She, uh, was telling me about The Buggles incident.”

Jim groans.

“Oh, yeah, when I nearly drove my fist through the kids’ new hobby?”

“-- Funny, she left that part out --”

“I made an ass of myself, Joyce.”

“Hey,” Joyce coos, throwing her hands, “Maybe she likes that about you... y’know... your uncanny ability to be a... uh, an ass?”

“Nice.”

“I’m kidding.”

The shop door dings and Chief of Police Jim Hopper chokes on his diet coke.

You stop short in the doorway.

The store is mostly empty -- it’s almost closing time, anyways -- and you can’t help but feel like you’re intruding on Hopper and Joyce’s conversation, especially when Hopper is cursing and wiping at the soda spilled down the front of him.

Overhead, Movin’ Out by Billy Joel plays.

“-- Workin’ too hard can give you a heart attack-ack-ack-ack-ack --”

“Miss Murphy!” Joyce grins, “Hi there!”

“Hi Joyce,” you smile, nearing the counter. You can’t help but hide a smirk as Hopper sighs and stands. He drops his hands to his side and you get a full view of the coke down the front of his uniform, “Chief.”

(A little part of him dies inside then.)

(Joyce sees it.)

“Evening, Miss Murphy.”

“Rough night?”

“Little bit,” he heaves, downing the rest of his soda and crushing the can. He lobs it into the trash can beside the register with ease, “Well, duty calls, ladies.”

“Duty calls?” Joyce asks, crossing her arms. Suspicion paints her features.

She’s trying to get him to stay -- trying to goad him into a conversation with you, just like she always does, but the problem is that Joyce is a great wing-woman and honestly?

That kind of terrifies him.

It’s been a minute and a half since he’s considered anything more than a one-night stand with someone. He’s been busy, y’know, saving this dimension and keeping a top-secret government facility secret.

“Yeah,” he deadpans, not feeding into it, “Duty.”

“Duty.”

You blink between them both.

Jim’s out the door with the tinker of the overhead bell.

Ouch. You turn to Joyce.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Famous last words.

“Testing, one, two, three --”

You groan, switch frequencies one more time, and throw your hands.

Maybe the whole Hawkins High Radio Station idea was never meant to come to fruition. It hurts to admit it and you know the kids are going to be so damn upset, but no amount of soldering and wire replacements seems to be getting this hunk of junk to give out any sort of signal.

You take a long drink from your glass of wine and collapse back onto the couch.

Then, you hear it.

"I’ll be sure to let Chief Hopper know, Miss Murphy.”

“Listen, I... Is he here? I’m kinda in a rush and this is sort of important --”

You’re pushing past Florence, the nice secretary, before you even realize it.

You’d known Hawkins was a weird town. That much was pretty clear from the odd disappearances, government labs and toxic leaks. But this... this is more than just weird. This is borderline panic inducing.

Hopper has a cigarette between his lips and his hat on his desk when you barge in.

He jumps six feet in the air and spills his coffee.

“Jesus --”

“Listen, Chief, I know you’re a real busy guy, but --”

“I am so sorry, Jim,” it’s Florence, moving to put herself between you and the Chief, “Miss Murphy, please, if you can take a seat, Chief Hopper would love to hear all about your top secret Russian communicae when he’s done his coffee --”

When Jim’s eyes widen a mile, you realize he knows something you don’t.

Jim feels small in your living room.

It’s a nice place -- furnished with plants and art and your TV has a stack of sci-fi movies atop of it. In the middle of your rug, though, sits the ham radio surrounded by a winding mess of wires. It’s off, and when you near it, you wring your hands. You’re nervous, he can tell. You can hardly stand still.

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

Hopper blinks. He clears his throat. “What?”

“This... Hopper, I swear, I heard Russian --”

“No, I... I believe you,” he says slowly, narrowing his eyes, “Hawkins is a...”

“Weird town?”

“Weird town.”

You nod slowly then, crank the on switch, and the radio hums alive in a language neither of you know.

Hopper just sighs.

“... What do you know about radios?”

“It’s close,” you say finally, blinking up from the manual, “It has to be -- I mean, this specefic model only broadcasts and receives up to fifteen miles. That’s... what? Like, all of Hawkins?”

“Just about,” Jim hums, hands on his chin, “and what about the channels?”

“I mean, it’s messy -- I hijacked your frequency. On accident.”

Hopper smothers a smirk with a drag of his cigarette. You grin. His office back at Hawkins PD falls quiet for a moment and you catch yourself staring again. Across from him, you squirm a bit in your seat and turn your attention back to the Olympia Radio booklet.

“There’s no way of tracking the channels,” you sigh, “I... I dunno. I’m kinda out of my element here.”

“What is your element?”

“Chemistry,” you chirp, “And biology. And some physics.”

“Chemistry, huh?”

“Speaking of which, I know you don’t like me much but,” you rush, blinking up at him, “Thanks for believing me.”

The moment would have been sweet if Hopper hadn’t reeled backwards, like he’s been punched. His face screws up in confusion and he waves, cigarette smoke halo-ing around his head as his mustache twitches.

“Wait... hold on --”

“It’s okay,” you console, “Seriously, I... I’m new around here, I... I get it a lot. Folks don’t really trust the new girl next door. Especially with everything that’s been going on.”

“I... I never said --”

You serve him a look.

“Duty?”

“... I panicked.”

“Panicked?”

Hopper sighs. “You’re just as bad as Joyce.”

Your brows raise. “Are you and her...?”

“No!” he cries, “No, no, I... I am single, I am very single, and I am very busy, but despite that, I still would like to ask you out to dinner, and that is terrifying, okay --”

You blink. “You... what?”

Jim’s about to try and dig himself out of his metaphorical grave when the radio flares up again.

You scramble to grab the recorder and Jim turns the volume up -- quickly, you record the repetitive sentence and when the line finally goes silent again, you spare Hopper a look.

“How about dinner and Russian For Dummies?”

#stranger things imagine #jim hopper x reader #chief hopper x reader #hopper x reader #jim hopper imagine #moonrise radio #stranger things headcanon #stranger things reader insert #jim hopper headcanon

1K notes · View notes

katrandomwrites · 5 years

Text

Wierdly Human

Alternate title was "Jon the Archivist is Kinda Hot"

Little in between snippets from the assistants and their impressions of Jonathan Sims.

I declare this a fluff and humor only zone! Episode 160 can kiss my butt.

You can also find this on AO3 under the same title.

I got the inspiration for this from a tumblr post about Jon being a clean boy despite crawling through hell and back but I think the writer deleted it because I spent forever looking for it and couldn't find it :n: Also 2 Drink Jon is a reference to 2 other fics I've read so his wild ass is not mine.

Supplemental Headcanons at the end.

Pre-Show

There was somebody new at the Institute.

He was short and dark with black hair neatly trimmed and styled. A pair of browline glasses perched in front of wide brown eyes that seemed to absorb everything around him.

“Hey, uh, Tim,” Martin whispered as he leaned over to where his coworker was digging through a drawer, “Who’s that?”

“Hm?” Tim’s eyes widened as he looked up, “Oh shit, he’s cute.”

“Not helpful, Tim.”

“Um, I think he might be Daniel’s replacement. I think his name is Joe or something,” Tim swallowed, “I wonder what modeling agency Bouchard raided for him.”

Martin elbowed him in the ribs hard, his face going as red as his hair, “Shut up!”

“But look at him, Martin! He has to have a skincare routine an hour long and don’t tell me you didn’t notice that those trousers are bloody tailored. I see you looking at his arse!”

“SHUT UP!”

”What are you two fighting about now?”

Both researchers jumped away from each other as Sasha popped up behind them.

“Hot new guy,” Tim said, earning another jab and a hiss.

Sasha looked at Martin and grinned, “Short, scrawny, Persian, and angry?”

“He’s Persian?” Martin stuttered before slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah, I got to talk to him during his follow up interview. Smart guy but kind of grumpy and super awkward. We got talking about foriegn food and he offered to give me his grandma’s recipe for chelow kababs,” Sasha said.

“What’s his name.” Tim asked, looking back at where the new guy was glaring at a row of filing cabinets with several drawers ajar.

“Jonathan Sims.”

Pre Episode 44

Basira watched as Sims limped away with the tape clutched to his chest like a lifeline before sighing and heading out to the car where Daisy was waiting.

“Well?” Daisy asked, “How’s our favorite murderer?”

Basira swatted her feet off the dash, “He looks like he hasn’t slept in 3 weeks and recently got hit by a car.”

“I wasn’t asking about his nasty, worm-eaten face, Basira,” Daisy said, “Does he know we’re watching him?”

“I don’t think so -put your seatbelt on- it seems like he’s more invested in what’s on those tapes for now. I get the feeling he’s more worried about watching the people he works with than us.”

“What a sad little librarian. I’m looking forward to how he managed to kill Robinsen without getting his ass whipped.”

“She was old.”

“Yeah, but Sims looks like he’d get knocked out by a light breeze even before he got munched on by some nasty fucking bugs. Did you see the surveillance from Robinsen’s initial investigation? I went back through to track Sims and watched him struggle move a box that was in front of a filing cabinet for a solid twenty minutes; the big ginger guy had to move it for him.”

“That’s-” Basira snorted, “That’s pathetic.”

Daisy grinned, “He has to be one manipulative bastard to get anything done.”

“Is that your theory?”

“I mean look at you.”

“What about me?”

“He gives you the puppy eyes once and now you’re smuggling him tapes from the evidence locker? I have never known the great Basira Hussain to ever cave to a suspect’s wishes in my life- and don’t say it’s to keep a closer eye on him. We have less illegal tactics for that.”

Basira opened her mouth to argue but found that Daisy had a point. She really only gave into suspects if the circumstances were dire. This was technically classed as a low priority case.

What was going on here?

Post Episode 76

Melanie flopped dramatically onto Georgie's couch and let out a long winded sigh.

"Oh?" Georgie asked from the kitchen door.

Melanie sat up slightly to let her sit down before plopping her head down on Georgie's thigh, "I had to go talk to Sims at the Institute again."

"How's Jon?"

"A fucking bastard is what he is."

"Well I knew that," Georgie laughed, gently beginning to brush through Melanie's hair with her fingers.

"I don't know, he's was wierdly defensive and I think he was trying to gaslight me about one of his new assistants."

Georgie paused her brushing, "I haven't seen Jon in a while but that seems… out of character for him. He's a grump, sure, but I've never known him to be a bully -on purpose that is."

"Yeah, well…"

The pair lapsed into a tense silence.

"Would it make you feel better if I show you a picture of Jon in university that he is very embarrassed about," Georgie ventured after a few minutes, "He's still mad I have it.~"

Melanie twisted her head back and grinned, instantly breaking the tension and sitting up to look at the phone screen presented to her.

On it was a picture of Jon passed out, mouth wide open and drooling, on the ugliest couch she'd ever seen.

"He still owns that couch by the way," Georgie said. Melanie waved a hand in her face to silence her as she took in the details.

Jon was in a pink crop top that Melanie was sure she'd seen in Georgie's closet, union jack boxers, gladiator sandals, and The Admiral was planted square on his chest, though he was about half the size of the fluffball that roamed the flat now. Surrounding them where piles of papers and books on the paranormal.

Melanie began to cackle.

"Our friend group used to call him '2 Drink Jon' and this was after he'd done four shots in the kitchen and decided to lecture us on how ghosts are bullshit and he could beat one in a fist fight," Georgie elaborated, "I'm still not sure when he ended up in that outfit but honestly, if we had recorded his rant he probably could have used it for his Masters thesis."

Melanie wheezed into her shoulder as tears began to stream down her face.

"2 Drink Jon was actually a lot more charismatic than sober Jon. This one time he almost had us convinced that he could talk to plants after two gin and tonics, granted we were also drunk but-,"

"Stop, please," Melanie wheezed, "I'm dying."

"Gosh, one of these days I'll have to tell you about tequila and the alien conspiracy. Randall could almost recite the whole speech from memory."

Melanie fell off the couch.

Post Episode 109

Julia and Trevor exchanged a look as the Archivist powered through the spiciest Thai food they could find without even breaking a sweat.

It was supposed to be a joke, spiking Jon's food, the cashier had even given them a panicked look at the restaurant and Trevor's eyes had been watering the whole way back to the safe house. They'd even waited by the door in case Jon tried to make a break for the case of water bottles in the car but he just unwrapped the plastic fork and dug in without even asking for a drink.

Julia picked at her own food but couldn't quite manage to eat it and glanced back at Jon, "Are you sure you don't need a water or anything?"

Jon looked up for a moment, his eyes were more alive than they had been all day and practically sparkled in the shitty fluorescent light. He shook his head and instead reached for another packet of chili sauce to add to his food.

"What the hell is he," Trevor whispered to Julia in horror.

"I don't know but he's definitely not normal."

During Episode 132

Daisy had misjudged Jon. She'd grossly misjudged him.

She flexed her fingers around his, ignoring the way the sand dug into her skin, and gently pulled him closer. The man she'd called prey gave her a soft smile and compiled, pressing against her side like she'd never held a knife to his throat, like she hadn't just admitted to planning his murder before she was trapped here.

Daisy turned her head awkwardly and dug her face into his shoulder savoring the human contact, her tears soaking into his shirt.

The Hunt in her blood tried to sing, tried to fight the Buried, "Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect", it echoed faintly.

Jon said something and began to move, pulling Daisy forward along with him.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

Hours past as they shimmied through the coffin, the pain of being scraped and crushed was overpowered by the sheer ecstasy of moving more than an inch every few days.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

There was a door, Jon tucked himself under her arm and pulled her up the stairs to the blinding lights of the institute. She ducked her head down to his shoulder again and grimaced as her joints popped and groaned.

"Jon, you stupid idiot! What did you think-"

Daisy looked up to the person she thought she’d never see again and smiled.

"Hi."

Post Episode 132

Martin had horrible timing really. He just needed to pee, was that really too much to ask?

Of course it was. The universe hated him.

So instead of slipping into the private bathroom upstairs which was magically broken, he had to go down a level and walk in on Jon shaking dirt out of his clothes.

Martin was going to die here but at least he'd die happy.

Jon didn't even seem to register that someone else had joined him (thank the Lonely) so Martin took a second to sneak a guilty look before darting back out and hiding for 40 years.

Jon was painfully thin. Martin got the idea that he could count every vertebrae and rib if he was allowed and even at a glance he could spot the sunken area where at least one rib was now missing.

Worm scars and burns were peppered up his back along with a few moles and freckles. Little red marks circled his chest in a way that Martin immediately recognized as being from the black fabric crumpled at Jon's feet.

And to top it all off, much to Martin's delight, were a set of three black gears tattooed down Jon's right shoulder blade. Sasha had mentioned once that she had gone out for drinks with Jon when he first started and they'd managed to get on the topic of tattoos. Tim had spent months trying to get Jon to show it to him before 'giving up'.

Martin stepped out and stood in the hall for a moment, red faced and giddy, before stumbling off in search of another bathroom.

Somewhere between Episode 132-154

"Hey, guys?" Melanie called.

Daisy and Basira glanced up to see Melanie holding a giant plate of the best smelling food they'd seen in weeks. Steam wafted up into her very confused face.

"Did either of you make this? I went to ask Martin and I can't find him."

"I didn't make it," Basira said, "Daisy?"

"I once made spaghetti and lit it on fire.

Basira grimaced and walked up to Melanie, "Kebabs, Tahdig rice, flat bread, and jam cookies. Those are Iranian dishes, or Middle Eastern at least.”

Daisy looked at Basira, "How do you know that?"

"Took a foreign cuisine course focused on middle eastern food a few years ago," Basira said as she made her way to the kitchen area with the group in tow.

Sitting on the table were three more huge plates of food and two empty plates sitting in the sink. Martin was standing next to the table with pure confusion on his face.

"Did you make this?"

Martin jumped and looked at the group, "Uh, no? I really only do pastas… this is a little outside my skill set. I think-"

"It could be a trap," Daisy interrupted, "Maybe it's laced with something?"

"No, I'm pretty sure-"

"Could be, but who would go to this effort, the Web?" Basira said.

"Guys, it was probably-"

"It was the Archivist!" Helen exclaimed from behind them, somehow having opened her door without making a sound and scaring the shit out of them, "He is an excellent cook."

"Bullshit," Melanie wheezed, setting her plate down before she dropped it.

"No, she right," Martin sighed, "Jon actually cooked something similar a few years ago for a company thing. He gave this whole speech about how grandparents immigrated here from Iran, well Persia at the time, and his grandma made him learn to cook what she called 'real food'."

"You mean to tell me that Jonathan Sims, the skinniest guy I have ever met, can cook like this," Basira said in disbelief before cautiously sitting down at the table with the rest following suit.

"He called it his grandmother's curse," Helen provided cheerfully, "He said that no matter what he does, he always makes far more than he needs and never has people around to give it to. So he just never cooks."

"You talked to him?" Melanie asked. Daisy began to pick at a plate and made a sound of confusion and delight at the taste.

"Oh yes, he even let me help by getting things off high shelves!"

"This is amazing," Daisy said in disbelief before grabbing a fork and beginning to eat in earnest.

"It is! Jon and I had a lovely chat and I'm not much for 'real' food these days but he really convinced me!" Helen declared, spinning back around to re enter her door, "And I must say it was delightful."

"Huh," Basira shrugged and began to eat.

Not bad.

Post Episode 159

For the second time since he woke up, Martin pinched himself. He had to be dreaming, the smaller body smooshed up against his chest and the boney limbs clinging to him had to be a figment of his imagination.

Jon huffed in his sleep and burrowed deeper into Martin before settling again. A few stray rays of the morning sun slipped through the blinds highlighting Jon’s gray hairs and the raised edges of scars that trailed along his skin.

Gently, Martin carded his hand through the wild mess of hair, marveling at how soft it was despite everything. Jon sighed, leaning into the touch without stirring.

He could stay like this forever, with Jon safe in his arms and the dangers of the world outside, away from his happiness.

"Wha' time?" Jon mumbled, stretching before re-draping himself over Martin. He looked up and the light caught his eyes in a way that Martin could see all the blue heterochromatic spots in Jon's left eye through dark, heavy lashes.

"Doesn't matter," Martin whispered as he pulled him closer, "We have all the time in the world."

Supplemental Headcanons: - Jon is a 3rd gen Persian/Iranian immigrant. His grandparents on his dad's side moved to England post WWII. (Persia became Iran in 1979) They took the last name Sims during immigration. - His mother was full blooded English. - He can out cook 87% of the local grandma's when he really gets into it - He built an unnaturally high tolerance to salt and spice as a kid to keep people from taking his lunch or trying to mess with his food and now thoroughly enjoys spicy foods. - Jon does care a lot but his grandma never taught him to show it in any other way but tolerance and mute acceptance. It's hard to know where you stand with Jon because of this. - Was a runner while in school. - Was forced to take violin lessons as a kid and Georgie taught him some piano in University. - Jon is and always has been feral little man though he is more bark than bite (unless he's under the influence of something). He learned it from his grandma. - He's one of those drunks that often wanders/ runs away from his drinking group. He has strong drunk college girl tendencies. - He changed his middle name to Ulysses when he got his first name legally changed because he’s a nerd. - Jon has had the same pen pal since he was 10. They are one of the few points of normalcy he has left. - Jon and Daisy are trans mlm and wlw solidarity. Fight me.

Fun Fact: Sims means "the Listener" which seems almost too on the nose.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #martin blackwood #daisy tonner #basira hussain #melanie king #georgie barker #my writing #fanfiction #jonmartin #spoilers #dasira #what the girlfriends

281 notes · View notes

delicatelyherdreams · 6 years

Text

Tongue-Tied

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is smitten with the girl from forensics, but he has no idea how to talk to her. It’s almost like his tongue’s been tied up.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2117

Bucky never did know how to talk around her. Every time he tried, he found his vocabulary suddenly lacking the words he needed. It’d been like that from the beginning.

Bucky had first seen her as she rushed into the compound, a little late for work. He’d boarded the elevator and pressed the button for his floor, getting ready to let the doors slide shut, when he’d heard her desperate cry.

“Hold the door!”

Her voice was melodic to his ears and he shot his arm out to stop the doors from closing automatically.

With the doors opened once more, she dashed in, her hair falling wildly into her face and her chest heaving with her deep breaths. “Thanks,” she muttered as she hung her head to catch her breath.

Bucky had the sudden need to catch his breath too. This woman before him was absolutely gorgeous. With her hair in disarray and her pristine white lab coat askew, he had never seen a more beautiful individual in his entire life. His breath was literally taken away the second he saw her.

Once she had regained her bearings, she looked up and simply said, “Five.”

He blinked dumbly, the sound of her voice catching him so off guard that the only thing he could utter was, “What?”

She chuckled. “The floor. Can you press number five for me?”

“O-Oh. Of course!” He turned to press the button when he saw that it was already illuminated. That’s right... He had to go to the fifth floor too. “It’s pressed,” he murmured.

“Thanks.”

The doors slid shut and the woman straightened up a bit with a breathless laugh. “Heh, sorry about that. It’s just that I’m late for work and I’ve been in a rush all morning. Sorry if I startled you.”

“S’okay,” he murmured. “I know that feeling.”

It was then that she looked up at him and her eyes went wide with recognition. “Wait, I know you!”

The way she said it wasn’t in fear or terror like he would’ve expected; instead it was in awe and admiration as she stared up at him.

“You’re Bucky!” she cried out. “Oh, I’ve heard so much about you! You’re great!” She stuck her hand out for a handshake. “(y/n) (l/n),” she introduced with a smile. “I work in forensics. I was on that HYDRA case a few months ago.”

The HYDRA case... The Avengers had gotten wind of a covert base inside an abandoned warehouse at the edge of Manhattan and had gone to investigate. He vaguely recalled seeing the team of forensic scientists rushing about in their white suits collecting evidence and marking samples. If he really strained his memory, he could probably recall seeing her (e/c) eyes peaking out through the goggles that the scientists were required to wear.

Bucky nodded and shook her hand. “I-It’s nice to officially meet you, (y/n).”

She seemed to turn a little pink as her name rolled off his tongue. “It’s nice to meet you too.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but it was then that the elevator stopped and the door dinged open. “Oh,” she said, almost as if she was disappointed. “Well, this is me.” She started to back out of the elevator, never turning away from him as she smiled. “Don’t be a stranger, Bucky!” she called out before turning around to dash off to work.

Bucky slowly exited the elevator as well, his pupils surely blown and his heart racing in his chest. What had just happened?

A boisterous laughter from beside him snapped him out of his dreamy daze and he turned to the side.

Tony Stark walked over to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “I see you’ve met (y/n). She’s great, isn’t she?”

Bucky could only nod. “Is she usually so...”

“Pleasant? Kind? Charming?”

He nodded again.

“Only when she wants to be and only to people she likes. You must’ve done something to get on her good side, Barnes.” Tony chuckled. “And I can see it in your eyes that you’re absolutely smitten.”

“What? N-No I’m... I mean—”

Tony clicked his tongue. “Don’t lie to yourself, man. It’s alright. She’s single as a pringle which means that you can go for that if you want.” He jerked his head off in the direction that (y/n) had run. “Go get her. Talk to her. Get to know her.” Shooting the super soldier one last smile, Tony disappeared into the lab to get to work.

Bucky had been on that floor to get the results of evidence samples that had been sent for analyzing for the new case the team was working on, but now he had another motive for being there.

It didn’t take him long to find (y/n)’s work station and he found her leaning over the table and peering into the microscope in no time.

Her desk was bright and unique just like her. Candy wrappers littered almost every bit of free space and there were pictures dotted wherever they could fit. Resting in a small jar in the corner was a large pile of rocks with fake plants in it.

Bucky came up behind her as quietly as he could so as not to startle her. When he was right behind her, he called out, “Hey.”

She squeaked and jumped.

So much for trying to not startle her.

She turned around to look at him, on her guard right up until the point when she saw and recognized him. When it dawned on her that it was only Bucky that had spooked her, she laughed. “Bucky! You scared me.” She clutched her chest with a grin on her face. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again so soon?”

“I-I... Uh...” He couldn’t speak. It was as if he’d forgotten how to. Standing there under her curious gaze, he could feel his cheeks redden. How she had rendered him speechless, he had no clue. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the Bucky that was so well spoken and could charm the socks off of any young lady.

She waited for him to work out his words, smiling softly at him as if she understood. “Hey, it’s okay,” she cooed gently before her eyes lit up. “Ooh! Bucky, look at this!”

Bucky would find out quickly that (y/n) was more than willing to make up for his lack of words as she showed him fun tidbits from her work. She was always talking with her new ideas and ever changing thoughts.

Bucky couldn’t help but be amazed by everything that went on in her head. She was incredibly intelligent and very good at her job and he was in awe.

Their friendship blossomed quickly and he found himself walking her up to the forensics floor of the compound when she’d come in for work and perching on her desk to watch her work. They’d also venture out of the floor, going out for lunch or the occasional coffee break. All throughout it, he was very quiet, still unable to squeak out the words to talk to her. He maybe spoke two dozen words in two weeks, but neither of them minded.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened, maybe it had always been there, but one day, as they were sitting in an open air cafe, Bucky watched as her hair caught the light just perfectly and he felt his heart leap at the sight. It was then that he realized that, somehow, somewhere, he had fallen for her and he had fallen hard.

He thought he could handle these feelings quietly.

It was maybe a month after first meeting her that he figured he had to do something, anything, to let her know how he felt. But he kept tripping over his words and getting tongue-tied. How was he going to do that?

The answer? He was going to use a pick-up line.

...Or at least attempt to.

He sat down at his laptop, google open and read to search for some pick-up site or something. He stared at the screen, absolutely clueless on what to look up first.

The cursor blinked at him mockingly, almost as if it was goading him into typing something so it could mock him.

“Look at me, Bucky Barnes,” it seemed to coo. “Look at me and weep. You’ll never know what to search for so you can tell her how you feel. You can try, but you’ll fail.”

Bucky’s stare hardened and he muttered, “Yeah right,” under his breath before he settled his fingers on the keyboard and began typing.

pick up lines for a forensic scientist

He pressed the enter key and waited. Not even a second later, he was met with countless results.

He clicked on the first result and started scrolling through the suggestions. About ninety percent of them didn’t make any sense or seem to relate to forensics at all and the ones that did were oddly sexual. The only one that was remotely okay was “ Do you have a partner? Because you seem duo-able” and even that was a stretch.

Abandoning the website, he clicked on the next result. That led him to Pintrest. It was quickly abandoned as well.

He searched for literal hours or so it felt. Every pick up line was just downright nasty and would make his mother turn in her grave. Finally, he just slammed the laptop shut and sat back in his chair. With a sigh, he rubbed his face in defeat. It was hopeless. He was never going to get a clever pick up line to ask her out.

He dragged himself out of his chair with a groan and shuffled over to his dresser. As he got ready for bed, he could only wonder how he was going to actually talk to her and tell her how he felt.

———

The next day he was at her desk again, sitting on it idly swinging his legs. She was late this time and it made him worry a bit.

Fifteen minutes after her usual arrival time, he finally heard her shoes clacking against the cool tile of the floor and he lifted his head.

She looked as gorgeous as ever in her lab coat with her twinkling eyes shining as she looked at him. In her hands, she held two Starbucks coffee cups. One of them had a small bit of black on the side that he couldn’t quite make out.

She smiled shyly at him as she approached. “I got us coffee,” she said as if to explain her tardiness.

Bucky nodded along. “I can see that. Thank you.”

She held out the one with the black squiggles he could now see to be words on it out to him, taking a sip of hers. “Enjoy.” She bypassed him as she took her seat at her desk and began rifling through papers.

Bucky nodded before turning over his cup to read what it said. There, in black marker, her unique handwriting stared at him. As he read over the words, he could feel his heartbeat speed up in his chest.

You seem a little tongue-tied around me so I thought I’d make the first move. Pick me up at 8? xoxo (y/n)

Turning his head to look at her, he could see the nervous smile on her lips and he chuckled. “That obvious, huh?”

“Yeah...” she said turning to face him. “I find it really cute and endearing how you have no idea how to talk to me, but if I were to wait around for you to finally ask me out, I’d be here for years. So what do you say? Eight o’clock for a late night movie?”

Bucky nodded. “I’ve heard that that new superhero movie’s pretty good. You want to see that?”

“So long as I’m with you, I don’t care what we see.” The smile on her face was bright and incomparable as she beamed at him.

Bucky found himself smiling along with her and immensely grateful for her making the first move. He didn’t want to admit it, but she was probably right when she said she’d be waiting for years for him to get his tongue untied around her. Though, if he was being honest, he figured he’d never get over that.

And he was right because, even years later as they celebrated anniversary after anniversary, he never did quite learn how to speak around her. But she didn’t mind. She always found it endearing and was more than happy to do the talking for them both.

TO BE TAGGED PLEASE SEND AN ASK. IT IS MUCH EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF YOUR REQUESTS IF THEY’RE IN MY INBOX BECAUSE THEN THEY WILL NOT GET LOST IN MY OTHER NOTIFICATIONS. IF FOR WHATEVER REASON I HAVE MISSED YOU, PLEASE DON’T HESITATE TO MESSAGE ME AND WE WILL GET IT CLEARED UP RIGHT AWAY. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME. Bucky Barnes Taglist: @cauraphernelia @thorins-queen-of-erebor @ria132love @moonstruckhargrove @free-as-fishes @jitterbuck @mallorydoesstuff @baneofkoveras05 @trashpanda-barnes @klmpun @karla-silva @imarockstar45 @danyofwesteros @seachelle-the-tideborn @nerdyladydream @bambamwolf87 @some-person-somewhere @fairislesheets @thefridgeismybestie @nerd-without-a-cause @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @katielcollins @until-theend-oftheline

Marvel Taglist: @ifyousayyouloveme @butimthekingofhell @mojitoclauds @annazierden

Sebastian Stan Taglist: @mywinterwolf @libbymouse @crazybutconfidentaf @lynn2503-blog

Permanent Taglist: @dont-speak-just-read @becauseismellgood @impalaimages @breezy1415 @lou-la-lou @aestheticapricity @a-book-pressed-rose @watchoutforfrostbite @dragonborn791924 @everythingisoverrated @hi-my-name-is-riley @wishingforahome @natcad @whyugottabsorude @tutis24 @buckysbeardliness @oh-balls-you-idjits @s3glz33 @tina8009 @picapicapicassobaby @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @carmillatheboss @shieldgirl95 @racheo91 @vvhat-the-hell-is-a-stiles @piensa-bonito @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-wayward-robot @cutie1365 @sinviix @supernatural-girl97 @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @jjk-biased @sedanleystanley @kuro-no-kenshi @bb8-damneron @forthesnakeofdragons

Requested by: Anonymous

2K notes · View notes

frangipanidownunder · 5 years

Text

Skin Trade: Chapter 3

A/N This is a casefile written for an anon who requested a fic about how Mulder and Scully would deal with being paired with other people for an undercover case.

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xfficchallenges for the Fic is Medicine prompt 1.

Rating: mature, a teensy little NSFW, some violence, medical gore.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Room 29 St Marks Plaza Motel Thursday 5 April 2000 2am

He wakes in the early hours, startled, sweating. Scully’s voice, terrified, coming at him. His immediate instinct is to call her, check she’s okay. Instead, he takes a shower, washing away his anxiety with the motel lemon-scented soap. Under the hot jets he lets himself imagine Scully there with him. Hard instantly at the thought of her body pressed to his, at the very presence of her, he braces one hand on the wet tiles, rubs his shaft with precise, urgent movements and lets the dopamine relief take him away for a few minutes.

Drop By Youth Centre, St Marks: Thursday 5 April 2000 4pm

There are two girls, sisters, who sit quietly in the corner of the lounge. Their bags are full of well-thumbed books, texts and novels, and they seem to find peace away from the noisier rooms, away from the other kids. Quist pulls a book out of his backpack, gives it to the older girl. Mulder catches the ring on his thumb, a garish chunky gold thing bearing a square-set turquoise stone. He also sees the shiny skin on his hands, puckered from some kind of skin disease or burns maybe. The girl doesn’t quite smile but she nods a thank you and Quist continues to vacuum.

Mulders sits on a low seat opposite and checks the title of the book. It’s a novel called ‘Second Sight’. On its cover is a woman’s face, beautiful gold-brushed skin and amber glowing eyes without pupils, hair coiling in bronze waves.

“What’s it about?” he asks.

The younger girl looks down, playing with a friendship bracelet on her wrist. She looks to her sister who also wears several of the decorative straps. “A teenage girl who has powers she doesn’t yet understand. She’s blind but she lets the sounds of the world guide her.”

There’s a moment when she’s about to speak, to let the narrative flow, but she pauses, narrows her eyes, regarding him with curiosity. He can see the battle in her mind. Should she ignore this freak or is he worthy enough for her to give him her time? She lets a small smile play on her lips.

“She’s shunned for being different, outcast. But she’s strong. She stronger than all the able-bodied people in her world.” She plays with a slip of paper inside. It’s too thin for a bookmark and there’s brightly coloured swirly writing on the front, but his eye is caught by the square set turquoise stone logo at the top.

“What’s that?” He asks. She shows him the flyer. Make your own candles and soaps. There’s no address, just a cryptic ‘Follow the river’ in elaborate cursive at the bottom. “Who’s Medea?”

“A witch,” the younger one says.

The older one shushes her. “She’s like a white witch. Nobody knows what she looks like because she wears a mask and a cape but she makes spells and healing lotions as well as the soap and stuff.” There’s something in her eyes that tells him she’s intrigued by this woman. “We heard she’s got all the old women round here going to her for her treatments to make them look young again.”

He nods. “Maybe she’s just a woman who’s discovered that old age is a con.”

That elicits a small laugh from the older girl. “Is it?”

“Some days,” he says, “and some days it’s good to have the life experience.” He feels like he’s talking to a young Scully, the way the girl’s eyebrow quirks up and her chin juts out. She’s smart, he thinks. He hopes she has a future. A scientist, a writer, a strong woman. “Are you going to go?”

The girl reads the flyer again. “Maybe. We don’t need healing, but we could sell the candles and the soap. Buy more books.” There’s a flicker of hope in her expression. Like she’s seen an out, an escape from whatever it is that’s keeping her and her sister in this place.

“The cleaner gave you that book. Do you know him well?” He sees the way her expressions switches from open to closed off, a classic Scully if ever there was one. Say one word out of place and you’ll get no further. He leaves it. He’s already reported Quist to Dash. “Selling the candles sounds like a good business idea. Very entrepreneurial.”

She waits a beat before answering. “Will you be our first customer?” She smirks, pleased with her own boldness and he sees more of Scully. Her hidden sense of humour that comes out when you least expect it and hits you right in the heart. Fuck, he misses her. He wants so desperately to call her, to watch her sip from a coffee cup, to see her tuck her hair behind her ears. He wants to feel her warm body against his.

“Do I look like a candle kind of guy?” he asks, smiling broadly.

“Maybe you can buy one for your wife,” the older one says.

“I’m…I’m not…”

She blushes, then gets up to leave, taking her sister by the hand.

Faith walks in. “Joe, can I have a word?”

He holds up his hand and nods. “You girls go straight home, now.”

“In case The Peeler gets us?” There’s a kind of fascination in the older girl’s tone.

“Do you know about him?” Mulder asks.

“He takes body parts to make monsters,” the younger one says. “Like Frankenstein.”

“Frankenstein’s monster,” the older one says and it makes him smile. She’s going to be all right, he thinks. She’s got something in her, something strong.

“Joe,” Faith cuts in. “I need that word now.”

The girls leave and he turns to the Faith. With her arms crossed, she’s wearing an expression that tells him she’s merely tolerating his presence. He follows her to the office. “There’s a message for you to call someone.” As they walk, she looks up at him, mouth smiling but eyes not. “Talking to the youth like that isn’t really how we expected you to operate. This office has been put aside for your use. I’d like to be present when you meet with our young people. I thought I’d made that clear.” She fingers a pendant, a shiny blue-green oval hanging off a chunky silver chain. It dazzles in the certain lights and reminds him of the colours of Scully’s eyes.

He nods and picks up the clunky white handset. It’s Dash. It’s the first time he’s heard his voice and it’s thin and vapid. He rattles off information just like his name, as though he’s got somewhere else to be, and he’s already late.

“What kind of equipment?” Mulder asks.

“Scalpels, antiseptics. It must be this Quist character. You said he has a backpack when he cleans at the centre. His employer also has the contract for the medical clinic. He’s probably been taking the supplies for months.”

“Nobody enjoys a stocktake,” Mulder says drily but Dash remains silent. Faith folds her arms around her, fake smile still plastered to her face. Dash hangs up and Mulder collects his jacket from the back of the chair. “Those girls I was just talking to, do you know where they live?”

He knows the centre is not a government agency so there’s no requirement for records to be held. It’s the first time he’s seen Faith without a smile. Her shoulders stiffen, her chin tilts up a little. It’s an improvement, he thinks. Maybe there’s a bit of fire inside her belly after all. Something that makes her tick.

“Why do you need that information, Agent Mulder?”

“They may be in danger. The FBI has provided you with some of the details of this case. Somebody is sourcing the victims…”

“Not from here,” she says. Her bracelets slip down her wrists as she clenches her fingers. “Our children are safe here. We promise them confidentiality and security. Our staff is vetted.”

“The cleaner gave them a book. Does he make a habit of buying gifts for children?”

Her eyes narrow slightly. A sprig of hair spins out from her scarf. She stuffs it back with irritated fingers. “Eli sees the potential in our young people. I see no reason to take issue with his generosity of spirit.”

“There will be no potential if those girls are going to wind up in a morgue,” he says.

She sighs. “Sofia and Camila live downtown. There are no parents. They’re in foster care. If you…”

“We won’t interfere in their living arrangements. We’re here to investigate a serious case. I need to know where they live.”

She’s as slow as Dash is quick, taking an eternity to locate a file. Her office is bright and busy. Papers, books, magazines, old coffee cups on the surfaces. Cacti and succulents along the window sill. There are small glass jars filled with seeds and pods, dried herbs. Inspirational quotes on the walls. The bookshelf is stacked, with paperbacks piled this way and that, plus hard back reference books.

“Do you know much about this Medea woman? There was a flyer in the book. The girls were going to a candle-making workshop. They told me she’s a white witch.”

As she’s leafing through the filing cabinet, he pulls out a title, a giant tome of Greek mythology. There’s a silver ribbon through the pages and he opens it at the story of Jason and the Argonauts. Faith is back to smiling. “You look sceptical, Agent Mulder.”

He puts the book back. “I want to believe.”

To be continued...

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #xfficchallenges #msr undercover

70 notes · View notes

crusherthedoctor · 5 years

Text

Sonic & Tails: Beyond the Stars - Chapter 4-5 Interlude

The Will to Act

Ambience filled the air of a cold laboratory, filled to the brim with countless deranged experiments still in progress. A dark blue hue encompassed the facility, and only the beeping of computers and the flowing of liquids cancelled out the silence. That is, until the high-tech gate marking the entrance opened suddenly, and in walked Dr. Eggman. The lights immediately switched on, though the inherent darkness of the surroundings was still prevalent. He still had a grin on his face, and his swagger remained confident as he walked. His diminutive lackeys followed right behind their master.

"Sir, aren't you at least a LITTLE concerned that the Wraith failed to defeat them...?" Orbot asked, though he knew the doctor would brush him off before he even got his answer.

"Bah!" Eggman scoffed, as he walked up to a large metallic table with blueprint papers. "If you worry over every little setback, you'd never get anything done. That's something I've learned over the years. You gotta roll with the punches if you want the last laugh."

He then took out a single grey crystal, evidently one of the crystals from Zephyr Mountain he managed to get away with. He examined it closely... He seemed to be able to sense the power within just by holding it, as he let out a heavy exhale through gritted teeth.

"Oh yes..." he paused, before putting the crystal down onto the table. His body crouched slightly, perhaps overwhelmed by what he just experienced. "I can feel it... right through the course of my veins... It feels... amazing... This will be so good when everything's done."

"So uh, what do these pretty crystals do, exactly?" asked Cubot. "They for a Christmas tree or somethin'?"

Eggman wordlessly glared at the robot for his inadequate levels of awareness. "No... they have a much greater purpose." He pointed at one of his papers, which included a sketch of two crystals. One grey, the other fully colored.

"The crystals we have now can already achieve great things. They can power my creations to new heights, and give them amazing strength. But these ones... " He placed his finger on the drawing of the colored crystal. "...are twice as much. No, ten times as much. These crystals are the ones with the most remnants of the Ethereal Zone's power on this planet. With them, one can control the elements, and maybe even more..."

"But if that's true, why are you looking for the Ethereal Zone itself?" Orbot questioned, while Cubot scratched his cuboid cranium. "Surely the crystals would be enough to satisfy your proverbial hunger?"

"It's about climbing the scale, idiot," Eggman sneered arrogantly, complete with a clench of his fist. "With these crystals, we get those crystals, and with THOSE crystals, we get closer to finding the Zone."

"And what about the Chao?" the round robot asked again, as he mildly fidgeted.

"They're still a priority as well. I wouldn't waste time capturing them if they weren't." The doctor snapped his fingers, and pointed at both of his minions. "So I expect the two of you to investigate where Sonic and his annoying friends could have taken them, and where else there could be more Chao."

"You got it, boss!" Cubot gave a hearty salute, and pulled Orbot close to him, much to the latter's chagrin. "When you feel you're gonna sob, Orbot and Cubot are on the job!" With that, he dashed out of the laboratory in seconds, dragging a distressed Orbot by the hand all the while. The scientist stood there for a brief moment, before shrugging to himself in resigned annoyance.

"I'll do it myself later, they'll probably screw it up somehow. But first..."

He picked up the grey crystal again, and this time he walked over to a row of test tubes, all of which were filled with a mysterious green liquid. Silhouettes of different sizes and shapes could be seen in each of them, but one test tube in particular caught his attention. With a growing grin, he pressed one of the buttons on the panel beside the tube, and slowly, the liquid began to clear away. The silhouette from within was still obscured ever so slightly by the shadows, but even those who weren't the mad doctor himself would know straight away what was in that tube. Sonic certainly would.

"Wakey wakey," Eggman called out in a sinister sing-song voice. He showed the crystal, and shook it a little, like a parent interacting with their own baby. "I've got a little present for you, son. Fancy settling your little vendetta with the fake once and for all...?"

Immediately after he asked, a pair of red rings sprung to life where its eyes would be...

---

"So what do you think Eggman wants the crystals for?"

"Dunno. Maybe he wants them to give that monster more power... Or maybe they're for some other weapon, like a laser cannon or something."

"Oh, like the Eclipse Cannon?"

"Well, he's tried some things more than once before, hasn't he?" The hedgehog shrugged. "How many Death Eggs has he had again?"

Tails and Sonic continued to debate the motivations for Eggman's crystal hunt as they made their way back from Zephyr Valley to Lutrudis' castle. Lutrudis herself was walking beside them, with her hands behind her back, listening to her friends' chatter while she looked around at the beautiful scenery presented by the valley. Her mind appeared to be elsewhere...

"You ever think Eggman will give up some day?" Sonic asked half-jokingly.

"I think we already know that'll never happen," Tails answered with a light chuckle.

"But he's done everything to try and win!" Sonic pantomimed dramatically with his hands. "He's sicced Chaos! He's tore the planet apart! He's disrupted the flow of time and space! And he STILL can't beat us!" He grinned knowingly. "And you wanna know why?"

"Why?"

He suddenly brought Tails close to him and gave him a soft noogie. "Because he'll never be as awesome as us!"

"Aww, come on, not in front of Lutrudis!" Tails laughed sheepishly, trying his hardest to cease the noogie. Lutrudis herself let out a small giggle at the sight of Sonic's antics.

None of them noticed the top hat-donning robot hiding away through the trees. The robot's hands continued to move erratically, as it spied on the heroic trio walking through the display of vibrant vegetation.

"You may be certain about that for now," it whispered to itself in a feminine voice. "But in time, you will surely bow... ~hmm hmm hmm~..." It vanished in another puff of fancy smoke, leaving as quickly as it appeared once again.

"Listen, guys," Lutrudis spoke up, having decided to bring up what was on her mind. "I've... had an idea I've been going back and forth on. It's about the crystals."

"Oh?" Sonic let go of Tails, and the fox regained his composure. "What kind of idea are we talking about?" Sonic pondered.

The horse rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, and her eyes glanced over to the ground at her side. "It's probably a silly idea, but... Suppose we were to fight fire with fire..."

"You mean... to use the crystals ourselves?" Tails correctly sussed. His tails swished at the mention of this prospect.

"Heh, close. You guys are probably fine as it is. But I had an idea involving... well, myself." She pointed her thumb at her back, which her trusty bow was currently tied to.

Sonic raised an eyebrow at the implications, though he trusted that his friend knew what she planned on doing.

"Well, lead us the way, Trudy."

---

After having returned to the castle, they immediately went back to the cavern underneath it. While Sonic went down the rocky steps like the previous time, Tails was generous enough to simply fly Lutrudis down to the cave, having remembered her struggle with steep steps. When they went inside the cavern, it looked exactly as it did last time, as rustic yet radiant as ever. The crystals once again gleamed heavenly, in all their multitude of colours to choose from.

"So..." Sonic started, curious as to what the horse had in mind.

Lutrudis motioned with her finger to halt Sonic's words, indicating non-verbally that all will be explained. She walked up to a wall in the cavern, and with her other hand on her hip, she casually tapped it thrice with the back of her fist. Right on cue, a bunch of ropes came down from the roof, each of them holding onto what appeared to be plushies based on Eggman's Egg Pawns. Sonic and Tails looked at each other in surprise at this sight.

Then, Lutrudis looked at a selection of crystals beside her. Each of them were glowing, and pulsating with the mysterious power they still hadn't quite learned the full story of. Slowly, very slowly, after a brief moment of hesitance, she put her hand on a red crystal. She closed her eyes as she took a moment to exhale deeply through her nostrils, having felt its unexplained heat. Once she was ready, she opened her eyes once more, and gently plucked the crystal out of the ground.

Sonic's quills straightened up slightly, and he and Tails looked at their friend in concern, uncertain as to what she was about to do. Nonetheless, they let her continue, knowing she was far from careless.

Without a word, she pulled out one of her arrows, and slowly pulled the tip of it off. After a few seconds of her glancing between the now-incomplete arrow, and the crystal itself, she carefully placed the crystal where the tip of the arrow once was. It was inserted onto the arrow with little issue.

"Woah," Tails muttered in surprise.

Lutrudis grabbed her bow in one hand, with the new, specialised arrow in the other, and she turned her head in the direction of her two friends. She motioned towards the entrance to the cave, to which they understood immediately and backed up so they were further away. They clearly understood she wouldn't want there to be an arrow in someone's eye if something went wrong.

Still perfectly silent, she took her time to put herself into position, as she stared down one of the hanging Egg Pawn targets. She closed one eye, and got her bow and arrow ready. She could still feel the intense heat of the red crystal by being so close to it. A light bit of sweat went down her forehead. But she didn't budge. She was ready... She aimed...

The hedgehog and fox closed their eyes, and crouched in anticipation...

FWOOOOM

Sonic opened his eyes abruptly at the noise he just heard. He couldn't see any arrow through his body, much to his own relief. He nudged Tails with his elbow, to which the younger one opened his own eyes in response. When they looked at Lutrudis, they couldn't believe their eyes. She stared at the Egg Pawn plush... or what remained of it, as it had almost completely burned apart due to the crystal that remained stuck in its chest.

"Holy..." Sonic stopped himself, before Tails could hear. "That's some Blaze business right there..."

Lutrudis still said nothing. There was little emotion on her face as she looked at the burnt Pawn... but something was clicking in her eyes. She went to the closest selection of crystals again, and this time, she picked out a blue one. She repeated what she did last time. Took an arrow, pulled the tip off, replaced it with the crystal. Her body mildly shivered, as the coolness of this crystal was a palpable contrast to the warmth of the previous one. Once again, she prepared herself to aim at another hanging Pawn, and when she felt ready, she fired away.

CCCLLLIIISSSHHH

Another direct hit... but instead of burning up, this one was inexplicably frozen in an appropriately sized ice cube.

"Nice...!" Sonic muttered out loud, with an impressed grin on his face. Tails was similarly amazed by what he was seeing.

She decided to try out one more. She looked at yellow crystals, green crystals, among all colours upon colours... Her eyes stopped upon noticing a purple one. Its glow was significantly darker, more dimmer than the rest... and almost as black as the night itself. Despite showing even more hesitance than the previous two examples, she put her lingering fears aside and carefully plucked out the purple one, and repeated the process once more. This one didn't feel hot or cold. Instead, it felt... strange. She couldn't pinpoint what it made her feel. She aimed, braced herself...

But neither she nor her friends could have predicted what this one would do...

WWWHHHOOOOOOSSSHHH

Everyone's eyes were wide in complete and utter bafflement. Lutrudis in particular looked enormously dumbfounded. Did that Pawn just get... sucked into a void? She looked to her side at another purple crystal, and then looked back at where the Pawn once was. The look on her face remained the same. She was completely puzzled, and possibly aghast.

Sonic and his little bro went closer to the green equine, still full of shock themselves. All three of them had trouble getting a single word out of their mouths. Even for as much as they already knew, they had no idea the crystals were capable of that much power.

"Well..." Lutrudis tugged on her ponytail nervously, and let out an embarrassed chuckle. "This would be quite awkward if my aiming stunk."

"Trudy, this is... this is incredible! And kind of terrifying... We've GOT to show this to Amy and Cream!" Sonic looked again at where the Pawn was before it got whisked away by an actual, literal void. "No wonder Eggman's after these things!"

"But if nothing else, they sure do look as though they could come in helpful," Tails added. "Although, surely you'd run out of crystals eventu-"

Before Tails could even finish his spoken thought, a brand new red crystal popped out of the ground, exactly in the previous red crystal's place. Likewise, a new blue crystal emerged from the ground in its place, and a new purple one came to fill its own. Tails' jaw hanged low. Sonic simply whistled in amazement.

"Oh yeah, that's another thing," Lutrudis smiled coyly, as she tilted her head and swung her leg back and forth while leaning on the other. She clasped her hands. "It's not a finite resource. If you take one, another takes its place."

"Man..." Sonic stroked his left quill, still dazzled at what his friend could do with these abnormal jewels. He was far from a stranger to them. He's seen and used the Chaos Emeralds who knows how many times. He's seen the Sol Emeralds. He's seen the Master Emerald. He's seen the Time Stones. He's seen the Phantom Ruby.

But none of them were so prominently... multi-purpose in their specific capabilities. The rest would boost your power, distort time, create illusions, but these crystals had a whole slew of bells and whistles. And is it possible that they could stack up? If this was what they had to offer, what on earth could the Ethereal Zone itself be capable of...?

It was a scary thought for the Blue Blur. On one hand, he was glad he had a compadre who could use them effectively. On the other hand, Eggman would be able to do so much in so little time if he got his hands on them. And since it's an apparently limitless resource, he'd never run out of that power...

"So... was the sheer level of power why you were hesitant about this?" Tails asked while he rubbed his ear.

"Well, it's one of the reasons," Lutrudis sat down on the nearest rock, and put both of her hands to her sides. She crossed the ankles of her boots. "They say power corrupts and all, and I'd like to believe I'm more responsible than an entitled manchild with the nose to match."

"You already are," Sonic chuckled softly.

"But talking of Eggman... I've been a little morally conflicted about it," the horse admitted.

"How come?" Tails questioned.

Lutrudis glanced at the crystals all around her, before she looked at her friends' faces, visibly unsure of herself. "I want to do everything I can to help, and I really mean that. But... If I used the crystals this way... would that make me no different from the likes of him? You know, using a powerful natural resource for one's own benefit... would that not make me just as contemptible as him, and others like him...?"

"Trudy, pal, it's not the same thing at all, believe me." Sonic sat beside her, and put an arm around her back, much to the horse's surprise. "Eggman only cares about power, and nothing but power. That's all he ever wants... that and maybe my head on a pike. When he uses shiny magical doodads, it's for the purest of selfish reasons, to appeal to his own ego at the expense of others... Trudy, I may have not known you for long, but I already know you're not like that. Not one bit. Heck, unlike half of my other friends, we didn't even fight after an easily avoidable misunderstanding!"

"Your reasons for using these crystals are perfectly benevolent," Tails continued along, with a comforting smile. "You want to help protect our world, to give our fellow people peace and security, instead of taking it away from them... you and Eggman couldn't by any more different with your intentions."

Sonic pointed his thumb at himself, with the characteristic smirk to match. "I've used the Chaos Emeralds to fight big bad monsters and giant scrap piles for years. Don't see me going full Egghead, do you?"

Lutrudis looked at one of the crystals behind Sonic's position, before exchanging eyesight with him once more. Her demeanour relaxed. "No," she smiled tenderly. "I suppose not."

"Uh, sorry to interrupt the scene guys, but..."

The three of them were immediately alert at the sound of a new voice entering the scene. It didn't sound at all like Eggman, thankfully, but it was also too gruff to be Amy or Cream... and masculine.

"We would just like to talk with Sonic," another voice piped up. It sounded younger than the first voice, but it too was gruff, and definitely male. "Your friends told us you were down here."

"Those crystals are so PRETTY!!!!" a third voice shouted enthusiastically. The pitch was notably higher with this one. "Can we take one? Pleeeaaase???"

"Quiet already, sheesh!"

Sonic breathed a sigh of relief, as he soon recognised their identities before he even saw their shadowed figures. "Oh, it's just you guys, the... what are you guys called again?"

"The Chaotix Detective Agency," Vector the Crocodile announced with pride as he entered their field of vision. "At your service, sirs and madam!"

Sonic and Tails exchanged blank looks with each other. Lutrudis merely waved awkwardly at the newest face.

---

Back to Chapter 4...

To Chapter 5...

#Sonic & Tails: Beyond the Stars #Crusher's Fanfiction #Sonic the Hedgehog #Fanfiction

47 notes · View notes

serpents-bulldogs · 6 years

Text

You Asked For It (Sweet Pea x Reader)

Summary: The Bulldogs have asked you to investigate Jughead’s house to find any clue about the Serpents plan of attack on Riverdale High. When you arrive and are midway in finishing your investigation, you’re unexpectedly interrupted by none other than, Sweet Pea. Can you find your way through him?

Warnings: Slight smut, Angst, S W E A R I N G

A/n: HEY Y’ALL!!! This is my first fic on this blog! I’ve recently just started watching Riverdale and man... AM I IN LOVE WITH LIKE EVERY CHARACTER?!!? Anyways, please ignore any mistakes made and send in some imagine ideas you have. Love ya peeps and I hope you enjoy this!!!

(p.s. credits to owners of gifs used)

You had cheerleading practice after school and stayed a little late. You walked to your locker to put your gym bag away and heard multiple footsteps, kind of like running. When you slowly turned your head to your left, you noticed your friends, Archie, Betty and Veronica charging towards you. You panicked and threw your gym bag at Archie.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?” Archie yelled out in pain. You huffed and caught your breath. You flattened your dress while the others also tried to steady their breathing.

“Where the heck were you guys trying to go?” You questioned. They all had a worried look on their face.

“Is someone going to speak? Or should I just assume you guys went mute?” You questioned part curiously and impatient. You waited for about 30 seconds until you lost your patience and decided to leave.

“Alright! Suit yourself, people. I don’t have time for this.” You grabbed your bag and shoved it into your locker and locked it. You tried to walk away from your group of friends, that’s until Betty clotheslined you and you halted to a stop.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU GUYS WANT FROM ME? WHEN I ASK YOU TO TALK, NOBODY TALKS. WHEN I WANT TO LEAVE, YOU GUYS DON’T LET ME.” Veronica and Archie caught up to you and Betty.

“Alright listen. We need you to do a huge favor for us.” Veronica said desperately. You snorted out a sarcastic laugh.

“What could you possibly want me to do?” You crossed your arm over your chest and waited for an answer. As Archie was about to talk, you heard another pair of footsteps that sounded like running. It was the one and only, Reggie Mantle. You immediately snapped your neck at Betty in anger.

“If this ‘help’ of mine is benefitting that scumbag, I’m not going to do it.” You said in a low tone. You hated Reggie with a passion. The way he treated some girls really irked you, but you couldn’t do anything.

“Did you guys tell her? We don’t have enough time!” Reggie retorted as he was trying to catch his breath. They all looked at each other and Reggie put his hands on his hips in frustration.

“Are you kidding me? What is taking so long?” He asked in an annoyed tone, waiting to get a response back.

“Fuck it.” Reggie turned to you and let out a huff.

“I know you hate me... but we really need you to do this. You’re the only girl who’s brave enough to do this task. You like mystery right? The feeling of being a detective?” He asked in hopes of getting you to smile or even getting a response.

“No.” You responded back. He looked irritated, but that just made you want to tease him a bit. The satisfaction you got from him getting annoyed or being desperate can’t even match up to anything.

“Okay listen, we’ll make a deal. Do this for not only us, but the Bulldogs. You could do whatever you want. To me.” You smirked at his idea of a deal and walked towards him. You now stood a few centimeters away from him. You rested both your hands on his shoulder and whispered into his ears, teasingly.

“Anything?” You moved back a little to see his reaction and you couldn't tell if he’s mad or horny. Either way, you didn’t want any of that as a reaction. Your actions may seem like you want Reggie, but the truth is, you don’t. Archie and Betty are probably the only ones who know the real reason behind you hating Reggie, so they knew you had something else in mind. He responded to your question by moving closer to you and slightly bending down.

“I said anything.” As soon as he stood up straight, you swung your right hand towards his right cheek, leaving a bright red mark across it. You dusted your hands and smiled. Reggie knew he wasn't even close to getting laid, so he just nodded his head.

“Alright! I’m down. I agree to your deal Reggie. I got what I wanted, so let me repay you. What’s the task?” Archie cleared his throat and moved in between you and Reggie, trying to cut the tension between you two.

“Jughead and his thugs are going to be on the Southside of Riverdale tonight. We heard that they’re making this master plan to bomb Riverdale High and the blueprint to those bombs might be in Juggie’s House. We need you to try to find anything that could give us a clue about when and how it’s going to happen.” It seemed risky, but you at least had to give it a try. You thought about it for a second and agreed to do it.

“Do you guys know what time Jughead’s going to be leaving. The last thing I want is to walk into the trailer and be cornered by those Southside Serpents.” They all nodded their head and started walking with you towards the exit.

“Yeah! Jughead told us that he has unfinished business near Glendale so they should be gone around 9. I’m going to go with Jughead and make sure to keep a lookout. I’ll text you when we’re leaving and coming back.” Betty said. Even though they all sounded calm and sounded like they had everything figured out, your guts told you something else. Before walking to your car, you turned around to ask a quick question.

“WAIT! Can we have a quick meetup up at Pop’s before I go? Just to make sure everything is on track and I don't get killed.” They all laughed and gave a reassuring smile. You smiled back and felt more calm and collected.

*** @ Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe ***

You walked into Pop’s expecting to see everybody there, but there was no one. You asked Pop’s if he saw Archie or even Veronica and he said no. You sat down at one of the booths, patiently waiting for your friends to come. After what seemed like forever, you saw both Archie and Veronica walking towards where you were seated. Where was Betty? And Reggie?

“Where are the other two dorks?” You questioned. Archie let out a slight chuckle because you looked serious. He put one of his hands on top of yours in a reassuring way.

“Relax Y/n. You seem tense. Betty is with Jughead and Reggie is your lookout for today.” You threw your hands in the air, not excited or surprised at all.

“Obviously you guys are going to make the dumbass sleepyhead be my lookout. I swear to god if he falls asleep, I will slap the living shit out of every, single, one of you.” Archie looked a little scared, but then the sound of your laughter broke the awkward silence between you guys. After drinking about 2 strawberry shakes, you decided it was time to leave.

“Alright losers! Your girl is going to leave now and she shall come back with a blueprint!” Veronica brought you into a tight hug and gave a soft smile. As you were walking to your car, you got a text from Betty and Reggie.

Betsie Bear now

Hey babes! It’s your time to shine!

Desperate Perky Bitch now

The goons just left. It’s time for you to come!

You put your phone in your pocket and started your car. It’s show time!

*** @ Jughead’s Trailer ***

Before you got out of your car, you made sure to look around. You couldn’t see Reggie or his car, but decided to leave anyway. You slowly walked towards the door of the trailer and looked around one last time. The coast was clear so you decided to pick the lock. When you heard the ‘click’ from the door, you immediately pushed it open and entered the trailer. You closed the door behind you and turned around. You were so mesmerized by the way the trailer looked because everything looked new and clean. You probably spent like an hour just digging through the shelves and sofa, under the table, behind the tv, basically the entire kitchen and living room.

“What the fuck man? This is taking forever! The things I have to do for these dipshits I call friends!” You sighed and walked towards Jughead’s room. You decided to check out the closets and bed first. You only found a box, but it had nothing in it, or at least nothing that you needed.

You pulled your phone out and checked if you got any messages. Nothing. You threw your phone on the bed and looked through the bedside drawer. You dug through and found nothing but papers, some even looked like contracts! You didn’t want to mess with those so you walked to the other side of the bed to look through the last drawer.

“This is it! This is the last place to look in.” You sighed and started rummaging through the piles of paper. You didn’t notice it when it happened, but you dropped one of the papers and decided to check it out. Boom! That’s how you find a blueprint. You scurried to the door in an attempt of getting out before someone came. As you unlocked the door, you realized you left your phone on the bed.

“What a great day.” You said sarcastically to yourself before dashing towards the bedroom. You looked around for your phone but couldn't find it.

*buzz* *buzz* *buzz* *buzz* *buzz* *buzz*

You heard your phone vibrate and found where it was. When you saw the display of your phone, you apparently got 11 missed calls from Betty. You decided to call her back and make sure everything is okay. Within seconds of calling, Betty answered her phone to your surprise.

"Betty! Why did you-"

"STOP TALKING! Get out of there! Jughead sent Sweet Pea back to the trailer park!"

"Hey! Relax babes! It's all good! I was just about to leave with the blue-"

“I don’t think that’s yours, sweetheart.” You turned your head towards the familiar voice. Sweet Pea. You immediately put the blueprint behind your back, placing it between your waistband and underwear. You heard Betty yelling from the other side and begging you to just run!

"Hold on Betty! A snake is on the loose. Let me call you back!" You cut the call and slid your phone into your pocket.

“Excuse me?” He asked with a surprised tone. Even though he only stood a few feet away from you, you felt this type of tension forming between you two.

“You heard me. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be making my way out.” You casually said as you walked around Sweet Pea. Obviously, he’s not going to let anyone pass through without a fight, especially you. You were about to step out of the bedroom door when he slammed the door closed in front of you, cornering you between the door and himself. Even though you’re a tough girl, you didn't have enough courage to turn around and face him.

“Did you really think you could leave that fast? Even after giving me that bitchy attitude?” You sighed and knew one of you have to give in. You were about to turn around to face him, but you felt his hand press against your back. When you realized what he was trying to do, you turned around and made sure to keep your back against the wall.

“Do you really think you can get into my pants that fast?” You smirked. You tried to use a different tactic and you really hoped it would work. He leaned a little forward, trying to look intimidating. He placed his hands on either side of your head and stared right at you.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you. So why don't you be a good girl and give it back, huh? I’ll even reward you.” You knew he was a Serpent, but something about him drove you crazy. You craved for his touch or even his presence... just something!

“What would that be?” You asked innocently. You looked at him through your lashes and bit your lips. He looked at you from the bottom to the top, analyzing how you looked.

“You give me the blueprint, I’ll let you leave.” He moved away from you, realizing this was a trap of some sort. You acted like you were taking a moment to think about the offer.

“I’m pretty sure you know I don’t play these types of games. When I do though, I like to add a little twist of my own. I’ll agree to the deal, but you’re gonna have to get the blueprint from me.” You looked up at him and he had a hint of excitement showing on his face. He let out one of his raspy deep laughs, driving you over the edge this time.

“C’mon big guy! Show me what you can do!” Both of you knew this is leading to something else, but you’re still down for it. Since he’s a little further away from you, you decided to give the door a pull, and it opened! He charged at you, but you swung the door open and ran into the living room, trying to make your way out the door. When you reached the door, you didn’t even bother to notice how there are 3 locks on the door. You tried to open all the locks, but he reached you before you can. You felt a pair of hands pull you away from the door and turn you around. His huge form hovered over you as he pushed your back against the door.

“Nice try! It’s time to hand it over now!” He smirked as he leaned down to grab the blueprint from your waistband, but before he can, you slapped him right across his cheek. He didn’t move a muscle and just turned his head towards you and scoffed. He looked you dead in the eye. His dark brown irises have now turned into a much darker shade.

“Didn't I say get it from me?” You questioned in a now scared tone. He grabbed both of your wrists and held it behind your back. He leaned down to your ears and whispered,

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” You smirked and tilted your head upwards, signaling him you wanted more.

“Hmm... don’t know!” He let out a soft chuckle and looked at you. Almost as if asking for consent. You went on your tippy toe and pecked his lips. There was an awkward silence for 5 seconds before his lips attacked yours, hungrily. He let go of your hands and held on to your hips. He pulled you closer to him, deepening the kiss. You both ran out of breath and just stood there. Your head resting against the door while his forehead rested on your shoulder. He moved his lips towards your neck and gave it a lick, slightly kissing it.

“If you kiss my neck, I won't be held responsible for what happens next.” He chuckled once again and started kissing your neck aggressively. He pushed his knee between your thighs and that just made it worse. He licked your sweet spot and you let out a moan, the moan you were trying to hold in this entire time. He took that as an advantage and bit on your soft skin, ending up leaving a hickey. His hands began to roam your body as it once again landed on your ass. One of his hands rested on your butt while the other rested on your back. Before you could stop him, he pulled the blueprint out of your waistband. He gave you one peck on the lips before moving away from you.

“Looks like I win!” He said with a smug look, waving the blueprint in front of your face. You pouted your lips and that caused him to let out a chuckle.

“Alright fine. You can keep it. But you better not build those bombs and bring it to Riverdale High. Or else...” You said trying to sound intimating. He looked at you with a curious look on his face.

“Or else what?” He said moving forward, pulling you into a kiss.

“You’ll find out.”

HEY PEEPS SO THAT IS THE END OF IT! I WAS THINKING Of MAKING A PART 2 OF THIS BUT WASNT SURE. LET ME KNOW IF I SHOULD DO A PART 2 OR NOT. PART 2 WOULD BE A LOT MORE ANGSTY AND MAYBE MAKEUP SEX. DON’T KNOW BUT LET ME KNOW PEEPS! ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN. DON’T BE AFRAID TO GIVE SOME IDEAS!

330 notes · View notes

rawrienstein · 7 years

Photo

Careful Zap. You shouldn’t touch things that you don’t understand.

More after the break! (Sorry Mobile)

( Support: Ko-Fi | Cool Stuff: Blog )

@adgerelli told me to make a next gen and make her fall in love with it.

YOU BETTER LIKE THIS.

So meet Zap Apple (very original name, don’t care though, it’s the most obvious name). The son of Rainbow Dash and Applejack (and Big Mac). He’s the type of kid that has an unfortunate combination of wanderlust and no respect for property boundaries. Applejack’s sure that curiosity’s gonna get’m killed, but Dash can’t help fostering his appetite for adventure (ie: Lots of Daring Doo before bed).

Summary of the AU (Yes, this is Summary)

This is an AU where Equestrian magic continued to leak into the Mirror World and brought a terrible apple blight to AJ’s farm. Big Mac’s a smart guy and planned for years of bad harvests, but no one could have planned for the majority of their orchards to transform into terrible tree monsters. After literally burning their futures away, the Apple family needed to find a new way of life.

Marble Pie (Big Mac’s wife) offered a chance to join the Pie Family Rock Farm in Rockville. Rainbow Dash objected due to not enjoying sleeping on rock trees, which don’t actually exist. But if there were, she wouldn’t sleep on them.

Big Mac and Fluttershy (also Big Mac’s wife, though not under law) adjust quickly enough to life on the rock farm, but Applejack and Rainbow Dash just cannot do it. Rocks are boring and not apples (and rock cider is possibly the worst thing to happen to cider and rocks).

They receive a call from Twilight Sparkle (SciTwi) and Sunset Shimmer about the abrupt appearances of equestrian locations in their world. Twilight and Sunset are unsure of the reason for this, but suspect that their parallel worlds may be merging together. Could it be possible that the over abundance of Equestrian magic is dragging Equestria across the mirror?

Dash, AJ and Fluttershy meetup with the rest of the gang to investigate a temple that replaced their old high-school, Canterlot High. Sunset recognizes it as an ancient lost library of forbidden tomes and cursed relics and possibly filled with knowledge that could help them. Together they navigate dangerous traps, solve ancient riddles and defeat a very, cranky golem to reach the deepest depths in hopes of answers.

They finally reach the Gilded Hall. A long and tall stretch of artifacts and books that hopefully contain answers to reversing their situation. They also find a very bearded horse scrambling and jingling from shelf to shelf.

Sunset recognizes him immediately as Starswirl the Bearded and can’t believe that he’s alive...and a pony? He should be over a thousand years old and at least human shaped! Starswirl ignores Sunset as he finds a solution and begins carving strange sigils and runes into the ground with telekinetic beams from his horn.

Sunset and Twilight attempt to question Starswirl, but he only responds with sparse quips about how he can’t believe how bad it’s gotten and he should have destroyed the mirror years ago. This concerns Sunset and Twi greatly. When he’s finished he throws the tome he was reading from at Sunset. “Unicorn! I have marked the pages you’ll need. You must banish these places back to Equestria. A mere band-aid I know, but you must go now before it becomes any worse! I’ll fix this. I always do!”

Recognizing “Banish back to Equestria”, Sunset urges everyone to leave the library immediately as it’s slowly drawn back from whence it came. Though some sticky fingers of Dash discovers that anything not within the banishing radius seems to stay with them, like the 20 solid gold bits she has.

They all visit Princess Twilight Sparkle to further decode the old book and learn how to optimize the spell into a simple flammable sheet of paper. Simply place it near the center of the building and watch it return to where it belongs...oh and escape. Can’t seem to get a proper time delay spell to work. It’s all just so very complicated.

Dash convinces AJ that this is their chance to have some real deal adventuring fun together! It’ll be awesome! And it’ll pay for itself as long as they don’t mind pilfering some gold and artifacts. The other girls agree that it might be a good idea to split up into smaller teams as reports pile in of other lost Equestrian cities appearing in their world.

3 years of explore new place, try not to die, banish it back, make some cash pass. AJ thought she wanted to finally settle down with the huge score Dash and her got on their last adventure. So they tried to make a family happen. Their lifestyle made it impossible for them to adopt (neither of them were particularly child friendly at the time, but it was something they were working on!). So Fluttershy actually offers the idea of maybe Big Mac could get Dash pregnant and not because she selfishly thinks it would be really hot.

Dash and AJ are both kinda grossed out by the idea, but AJ kinda likes the idea of their child being a biological apple...So a lot of cider and foot rubs later Dash becomes Cool Mom Dash (and Fluttershy watches, because of course she does).

(Warning link is kinda NSFW, not explicit, just baby havin’ stuff and naughty words)

Well, angry mom first, but then she cool moms after.

As much as they try, they were bit by the adventuring bug and just can’t resist getting back into the game. 12 years later this is where we’re at.

They try to leave Zap back home where the school is great and house is cozy, but this boy seems to find trouble one way or another.

FINALLY TALKING ABOUT ZAP APPLE!

He wants to be a hero like her Moms. So he always tries to sneak into their adventures. He’s unusually prepared with all sorts of scenarios dreamed out in his head when he should be paying attention in class and a pretty good improviser like his Moms. Though he’s a bit too young to brute strength any problems like they can. They really don’t like it, but damn it Zap Apple has saved their bacon a couple times.

As he grew he continued looking around everywhere. Wanderlust striking deep as he kept going further and further into the wilderness hopes of finding amazing places like the Daring Doo books Dash read to him before bed.

He’s very impatient like his Cool Mom and very stubborn like his Strong Mom, combined with his need for exploration, he tends to get into a lot trouble. Exploring abandoned/condemned property, touching things when he knows he shouldn’t, occasionally gets into fights because the other kids at school don’t think his moms are the coolest/don’t believe him when he talks about what they’ve done.

Zap Apple is NOT a liar.

Equestrian magic has just made these things worse, as new magical items are being created randomly, and he’s decided to task himself with finding them and sending the magic back to Equestria. Which occasionally leads to breaking and entering and actual theft. Not a liar, but maybe a little bit of a thief.

Okay, I’m gonna stop now. This is too much as is. If you actually made it this far. Damn, I appreciate you. Is this a cool AU worth exploring?

#mlp #equestria girls #appledash #applejack #rainbow dash #au #oc #next gen #Zap Apple #AU:Treasure Hunters

39 notes · View notes

catholiccom-blog · 7 years

Photo

The Ten Most Common Misconceptions About Apparitions

Every day, it seems, the papers are splashed with another report of an angel appearing by a hospital bed, the Blessed Virgin’s image showing up in a window screen, or the face of Christ appearing on yet another tortilla. Many Catholics find these reports embarrassing. But then there are sites like Lourdes or Fatima, places that nobody would have heard of except for the reports that Mary appeared there and conveyed messages of hope and repentance. So, what’s the deal, when it comes to reported apparitions? Arguments break out; accusations and contradictions are slammed back and forth by both sides. There are a lot of misconceptions and misunderstandings, no matter where you look or whom you listen to. Here are the top ten contenders. 1. People who believe that stuff are crazy. Well, now, hang on a minute. "Apparition" just means that a heavenly being—Christ, Mary, another saint, or an angel—makes himself known to human senses. That being the case, pick up your Bible and check Genesis: The first apparitions were to Adam and Eve, when God walked with them in the cool of the garden. Then have a look at Exodus, when God appeared to Moses and spoke to him in the burning bush. Carry it through to the Annunciation, the Nativity, and the Resurrection. Look at the Apocalypse, in which John describes his vision of the whole heavenly Jerusalem. The whole Bible is the transcript of one apparition after another. Every Mass includes Christ’s apparition among us—in the appearance of bread and wine. If it’s crazy to believe in apparitions, then every Jew and every Christian who ever lived would have to be crazy. 2. Real apparitions come only to exceptionally holy people. You’d be surprised. Bernadette was a remarkably sweet-natured child before Mary appeared to her, and she got even better afterwards, but at the time she was totally ignorant of her catechism and not unusually pious. Melanie Matthieu, on the other hand, was practically a feral child before the apparition at La Salette in 1848, and her teachers described her afterwards as a complete savage. She later became a vagrant, running all over Europe denouncing the Church for refusing to pay her saintly honors during her lifetime. To take a middle case, Marie Lataste (1822–1847) started life as a remarkably obnoxious little girl in Dax, France, but then Christ started appearing to her almost routinely after her first Communion. Her vices disappeared, her virtues grew, and those around her felt an abiding sense of joy, just from her presence, although she never went out of her way to impress them. (The surprising thing was that she wasn’t surprised at all of this; evidently she thought that’s the way religion works, and you have to admit she had a point. It just happened faster with her.) Anyway, it just goes to show you that God picks up his tools as he will, and that he doesn’t always pick the sharpest knife in the drawer (Judg. 6:15, Matt. 9:9–13, Acts 9:1–4). 3. People claim to see apparitions just to get in the spotlight. That one happens to be true. Not in all cases, though, but in most. Overwhelmingly, the two greatest causes of reports of apparitions are human fraud and human delusion; then, in terms of frequency, there are the diabolic high jinks that almost always help the frauds along. Least frequent of all is a genuine outreach by God, either directly from Christ or through Mary, another saint, or an angel as an intermediary. The genuine ones come, invariably, to people who didn’t want them before they happened, who later wish that they hadn’t had them, or who don’t want them at all, ever. The modesty of their conduct contrasts sharply with the posturings of the fakes and the deluded. Declining to pose as a divine messenger with more authority than Christ, or even refusing to claim to speak for him, is really about the barest minimum of humility a person can have, yet the overwhelming majority of self-declared mystics trip over that very low threshold. The minute you see self-proclaimed visionaries giving interviews to the press, dashing off reams of prophecies for all and sundry, asserting that they’ve seen Mary and that they have an urgent message that can save the world; the minute you see someone even permitting himself to be interviewed on such a matter; certainly as soon as you see a reported visionary routinely blessing people, "curing" pilgrims, or even receiving pilgrims at all—you can safely assume that the person is a fraud or, if you want to be particularly charitable, that the person is deluded, genuinely believing that what he said he saw was real. Either way, it’s not worthy of your attention. Here, as in so much else, John of the Cross is the best model. When dispatched to investigate a reported apparition, he walked cheerfully up to the woman and said, "Are you the lady to whom the Holy Spirit is appearing?" When she answered "Yes!," he bid her good day and reported to the bishop that the woman was either a fraud or delusional. Credit-worthy visionaries speak of "the Lady" or "the person," but they don’t even claim that it was Mary or Christ. 4. You can tell if a reported apparition is real because miraculous things happen around it. Miracles are distinct kinds of mystic phenomena, entirely separate from apparitions and not necessarily occurring anywhere near them. Incidentally, one thing that’s practically the hallmark of a false apparition is the report that a set of rosary beads has changed color. 5. I’ll see an apparition some day. Not likely, this side of Armageddon. It’s an outreach by God, and you can’t compel God. Thinking that he owes an apparition to you, that you’ve earned it, or even that you deserve it, is pride—a cardinal vice that puts a stop to even the possibility, not to mention to further personal growth. "I consider it certain," Teresa of Avila said, "that spiritual persons who think that they deserve these delights of spirit for the many years that they have practiced prayer will not ascend to the summit of the spiritual life," which is in line with Matthew 12:39 and 23:12 and everything else that the Church teaches. John of the Cross attributed the taste for these experiences to a "spiritual sweet tooth," a matter of unwholesome greed. It makes a person an enemy of Christ, he said. Or, as Bernard put it, a soul striving toward union with God "will be far from content that her Bridegroom should manifest himself to her in the common manner, that is, by . . . dreams and visions." The best advice? Stick to the sacraments and the normal spiritual discipline of the Church. Remember what Thérèse of Lisieux, one of the most influential of the Church’s mystics, said: "To ecstasy, I prefer the monotony of sacrifice." 6. People who don’t bother with modern apparitions just aren’t spiritually gifted enough to understand. No, they’re within their rights, and they’re doing basically what the Church hopes people will do. Belief even in events like Lourdes or Fatima is only enjoined, never required. No such event is necessary for salvation or for the business of the Church; like Christ’s own miracles, they only help bring people’s attention back to the faith (John 3:1–21). No latter-day apparition should be taken as the centerpiece of one’s ideas about what religion is all about. That’s because Christianity—a revealed religion—works with two different kinds of revelation. The revelation that came to us from Christ, through the prophets before him and the apostles after, is an unchanged body of teachings called the "deposit of faith," and it’s publicrevelation, so called because Christ said that it was to be given to all nations (Matt. 24:14, 28:19; Mark 11:17, 13:10; Luke 24:47). It’s the substance of our religion. Since the death of the last apostle, public revelation is closed. Everything that God needed to reveal about Christianity already has been revealed, so nothing needs to be added; Christ himself revealed it, so nothing has to be changed. "The Christian dispensation," Vatican II repeated, "as the new and definitive covenant, will never pass away, and we now await no further new public revelation before the glorious manifestation of our Lord Jesus Christ." But there’s also a phenomenon called private revelation. This is not part of public revelation, but just a reminder of some part of it, given by God, sometimes by way of an angel or a saint, to an individual person. It can be the answer to a simple prayer or a sky-splitting apparition—or anything in between. Whatever the form, it’s not essential to the faith. No genuine apparition is going to be anything other than private revelation; none will convey new or revised public revelation, so none is necessary to the substance of the faith. You’re supposed to take the reminder, if you need it, and then get to work increasing your devotion to public revelation. That’s why even spectacularly gifted saints can take apparitions or leave them. Louis of France looked up calmly when his servant burst into the room yelling about how Christ was appearing in the Eucharist in the palace chapel, and then the king turned back to his work. Margaret Mary Alacoque and Teresa of Avila went so far as to fight off their visions of Christ, begging him to leave them in the normal routine of their orders. If you stay at home when the next visionary claims that Mary is appearing in the back yard, you’ll be in very good company. 7. Bishops encourage crowds to flock to any reported apparition, no matter how nutty it is. Just about the last thing any bishop looks forward to is that late-night call about yet another hometown visionary. His efforts will be directed at keeping things orderly until an investigation can be made—if in fact the report warrants investigation. Usually, the thing is so far outside the spectrum of genuine mystic activity that he’ll respond only with silence, and silence from the local bishop is really a public proclamation that the thing deserves no notice. Even if it does turn out to be real, the most that any post-biblical apparition gets is a negative approval—an official declaration that there’s nothing in the report or in its implications that’s contrary to the faith, so that it’s "worthy of belief." That means that you can believe it or, if you aren’t interested, not. 8. Bishops discourage people from flocking to any reported apparition, no matter how wonderful it is. Wrong again. They know that only a tiny percentage of reports—maybe only one in a thousand, or really even fewer—turn out to have anything wonderful about them. To the average bishop, the overwhelming majority of reports are obviously, even blatantly fraudulent or delusional. There is an immense amount of spiritual treasure in the messages of genuine apparitions, a lot that can deepen and enrich your life in the Church through the sacraments. But it’s also true that fakes and delusional cases distract thousands of people from basic—and fully adequate—participation in those sacraments, and they draw them away from growing in the normal life of prayer. So the good of a real apparition is potentially overwhelmed by the evil from a myriad of fakes. Bishops have to be careful. Those reports that have enough substance to merit official examination are studied by panels of qualified experts—theologians, medical doctors, perhaps chemists and physicists—assembled by the local bishop, the only person authorized by law to investigate. They take their time. Time weeds out empty promises, and it may take a century or more before a final determination is announced. In the meantime, follow the lead of King Louis or of John of the Cross, who just turned back to reading his Bible when his brother friars called him to run into town to see a purported apparition. Maybe he was looking at Matthew 12:38–39. 9. If enough people go to see an apparition, the bishop will give it his blessing eventually. A genuine apparition is an outreach by God. The reality of it is not determined by voting and most particularly not by the voting of people unqualified to evaluate the matter. We tend to forget that mystic theology is a regular academic discipline—you can get a doctorate in it, at accredited Catholic universities. It’s sobering but safe to remember that the layman-on-the-street has no experience of genuine mystic activity, no book-learning about what it really is, and—judging by the numbers who flock after even the most preposterous reports—sadly insufficient knowledge about the basics of the faith. A little learning goes a long way toward winnowing out the nonsense. You’d be surprised how far it goes toward opening up the wonders of the apparitions that have been declared worthy of credit, wonders that are closed to people who rely on their emotions and won’t make the necessary effort to grow in knowledge and discipline. Most experts, undoubtedly, would just like to see a little more common sense in these things. Christianity does not change (Heb. 13:8–9), so certainly an apparition of a saint (Matt. 17:3) or an angel (Luke 1:11) is as possible today as it ever was. But there’s no biblical reference for the appearance of anybody’s face on a food item or flower petals. Lack of biblical precedent should be enough to turn anybody from the silliest reports, but there are also the writings of the great Doctors of the Church such as Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, which ought to settle any doubts the laity is likely to have about the value of a given report, pending official judgment—or official silence. By the way, continuing to fuss with a purported apparition that has been declared false by the local bishop is disobedience: a sin rooted in pride. 10. Apparitions can be photographed. Nope.

#CAMO #Catholic Answers #Kevin Orlin Johnson #Apparitions #Fatima #Lourdes #Medjugorje

13 notes · View notes

whodunnitaceattorney · 7 years

Text

Murder Five

Adrian Andrews reached to her nightstand for her glasses. Each day at the Temple felt worse than the last, both emotionally and physically.

The stiffness in her joints cried out as she forced herself out of bed. She grimaced as she attempted to stretch out the discomfort.

How did I get here? Adrian thought. It was a question she asked often, but was especially considering in this moment. After all the turmoil and heartbreak of her life in show business, she was relieved to be living a simple life at the museum. What did she do wrong to get selected for this?

Adrian was startled out of her thoughts by a loud clatter. The chair underneath her doorknob had toppled over when she opened the door.

But what a minute - why was she able to open the door without moving the chair?

She bent over and examined at the chair’s thin wooden legs. The bottom of each leg - it was severed, like it had broken off. Sure enough, several small wooden pegs lay nearby.

Fearing the worst, Adrian replaced the chair underneath the doorknob, but this time, it wasn’t tall enough to reach. Her one line of defense was now useless.

It took all of her strength to resist the urge to panic, but she did so, and joined the group of guests already in the Main Hall. Will, Jean, Max, and Viola were standing in a small circle, speaking softly. They all appeared similarly upset.

“Adrian… Is it the same for you? With the chair?” Will asked, as the guests turned around to greet her.

“Yes, it appears the killer has had enough of our precaution,” she replied. “Does anyone have any ideas?”

“We should wait for the others to get up. If we all work together, we can probably find something to fix the chairs,” Max asserted.

The others agreed, and several minutes later, they were joined by Phoenix, Ema and Wocky, who reported that their chairs were also broken. A decision was reached that the next hour would be spent scouring the Temple for something useful, and the search began soon after.

Adrian looked in every drawer she could find. Tape, glue, wood - anything that could help the guests lock their bedroom doors, she was ready to grab. But alas, she found almost nothing. Was the killer removing items from the Temple to stall everyone’s efforts to resist? And where were they storing all the items they needed to make this all happen?

The hour passed by quickly, and once again the guests found themselves gathered in the Main Hall, empty-handed.

“Well, I think we’ve wasted enough time on this issue,” Phoenix declared. “We’ve still got an entire day before we have to sleep again. Does anyone have any idea on how we can protect Jean and Max until then?”

“Perhaps... We should remain together, like before...” Viola squeaked.

"Well, I think it's clear that ain��t gonna do nothin’," Wocky asserted. "We saw what happened the last time we tried to keep each other safe. It went to shit! We should just stay separately from each other. Nobody's gonna kill nobody if we're all in our rooms."

Adrian ran through the possibilities that could occur if that plan was enacted. “Are we certain that won’t put us in more danger?” She asked. “What if someone just comes into one of our rooms and tries to kill us? Or what if they take someone by surprise in the bathroom?”

Ema chomped down on a Snackoo and added her opinion. Grogginess showed in the bags under her eyes, but she spoke in her typical monotone manner. “If someone enters your room without your permission, just scream. For the bathroom, go in groups of three. You can’t murder if it’s a group of three.”

Adrian felt her aforementioned concerns melt away, but she couldn’t help but worry when she noticed the uneasy looks on Jean and Max’s faces. She couldn’t imagine what they must have been feeling in that moment.

Phoenix voiced the final decision on the matter. “For now, I don’t think we have any better ideas. Let’s all return to our rooms and relax alone for the time being, and we’ll meet back here for lunch at eleven. Is that fine?”

Reluctant heads bobbed among the seven remaining guests. This was the most trapped they had felt throughout their entire stay.

The soothing scribble on pencil and paper was calming to Adrian’s nerves. She was writing out lists - lists of her favorite historical pieces of art, lists of things she needed to take care of when she returned home, lists of memos that needed a reply. If she could just stay organized, she could keep her head on straight. She could survive, like always...

A knock at the door jolted her from her focus. Frazzled, she asked who was calling for her.

“It’s Max,” the voice said. “I’ve lost my bust.”

Adrian raised her eyebrows and went to the door. Max Galactica stood in front of her, distress steeling the corners of his mouth.

“What is it you’ve lost?” Adrian asked.

“It’s my bust - the one I brought with me, of my face. I seem to have misplaced it, and I wondered if you had any idea...”

Adrian thought back to her last memory of the gaudy object. Shouldn’t it have been... On the desk in the Main Hall where he originally placed it?

“I’m sorry, I can’t say I know a thing about it,” Adrian replied.

Max shook his head. “If I had known our killer was also a thief, I would’ve been more careful. Thanks anyway.” He walked away from the doorway.

Adrian shut the door, hearing soon after the sound of Max knocking on the adjacent one.

What a bizarre thing to happen, Adrian thought, before slipping back into her administrative bliss.

Lunch was uneventful. Adrian joined the others in the Dining Room, where a light meal was served by Phoenix. She studied the faces around the room. Most were expressionless.

Max appeared to still be distraught about the missing bust. Jean only picked at his food in cold silence. He was the first to return to his room after Phoenix informed the guests that he would alert them when dinner was ready.

Adrian returned soon after, leaving her plate and the pitcher of ice water behind. Now even she was feeling the pressure of monotony weighing down on her. To be stuck in the small room, with no ideas as to help further the survival of her friends... It was stifling. She ended up taking a nap, as it was the only thing she could think of to do.

Hours went by as she attempted to rest, though her brain failed to settle on a single level of activity. When she actually did drift off, she found herself easily woken by the slightest of sounds...

Including the sound of a far-off scream.

It took several seconds for it to register on her radar. It was a man’s voice.

“Max,” she said aloud tossing aside the covers on her bed. She ran to the door, hearing the sounds of other doors slamming shut in the background. She wasn’t the only one who heard it.

“Which way to go?” It took several seconds to decide as the adrenaline pumped through to cloud Adrian’s thoughts. The scream - it sounded like it came from the direction of the kitchen.

Half a minute later, she had arrived. A group of people were waiting, and at the center was Max Galactica himself, laying back on the floor.

“Max! Are you okay?” Will said, entering seconds behind her. Wocky, Ema, Viola and Phoenix were already present.

“I’m... Fine...” He mumbled, clutching his head. He was sitting against one of the lower cabinet doors. Adjacent to him was a ladder that stretched up to the ceiling. It had never been present in the room before, but Adrian immediately recognized what it was.

“Apparently Hazakura Temple has an Attic,” she voiced aloud.

“What happened, yo? Did you go up there?” Wocky asked.

Max’s lips were trembling. He could barely answer. “A hand...”

“He seems really shaken up,” Phoenix observed. “We need to bring him back to his room.”

Before they could begin to lift Max up, Viola, who had been quiet the entire time, spoke up. “Someone still isn’t here... That person... Should be here by now...”

A dark cloud fell over Adrian as she understood what Viola meant.

Where was Jean?

Everyone except Phoenix and Max dashed back out into the corridor. They rounded the bend, but were then rendered static by the horrible sight before them.

The door to his room was wide open. He lay outside it, face down, his teeth clenched in a menacing scowl. JEAN ARMSTRONG wasn’t moving.

Minutes later, the group was reunited in the Main Hall. Phoenix was sullen, but once again directed the others as to what was next.

“Jean is dead. One of us killed him. You all need to choose to either investigate the Crime Scene, that being the area in and around his room, the Morgue, where you can examine his body, or a Special Location.”

“Why no Last Known Wherabouts?” asked Ema.

“Because the door to Jean’s room is still open, the killer would like to consider that area to be one entire location. The Special Location is the Attic, where the killer promises some relevant clues will be found.”

Adrian hung her head. All their discipline, their organized behavior. And they still couldn’t save him.

Phoenix noticed the increasingly gloomy faces. “I know this is a terrible loss. But it’s also another opportunity to figure out who could have done this. To Jean - and to us.”

He left the room to allow the group time to discuss. They all retained their stony expressions as they prepared for the brutal investigation to come.

All except Viola, whose face was marked by an uncharacteristic tear.

“I never... Got to apologize... To that man...”

Jean Armstrong @jeanclauricearmstrong, you have been murdered. Thank you so much for being an infinitely wonderful part of our group. Your kindness will not be forgotten.

For everyone else, locations could be opened tomorrow at 8:30 AM Pacific - does that work okay?

#whodunnitaceattorney #murder #sorry yall that this took so long #ive been trying to tweak the case to make it less easy #also these make me sad every time

11 notes · View notes

badthingstrumpdidtoday · 8 years

Text

Bad Things Trump Did Today - March 9 - March 11, 2017

Image Credit: REUTERS/Yuri Gripas

March 9, 2017:

GOP leaders encourage bypassing Senate parliamentarian in order to kill ACA

Source: Politico, The Hill

A growing number of conservative lawmakers on Thursday urged GOP leaders to push the limits of how much of the health law they can reshape under a powerful procedural maneuver known as budget reconciliation — and to overrule the Senate parliamentarian if she doesn't decide in their favor.

Such a gambit would require the unlikely buy-in of Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.), a noted institutionalist who earlier this year avoided talk of changing his chamber's rules to kill the ability to filibuster Supreme Court nominees.

Senator Ted Cruz of Texas has reportedly been pushing for this, including during a recent dinner he had with Trump. Overrulling the parliamentarian would open up the door for additional modifications and additions to the newly introduced healthcare replacement, potentially including cuts to popular ACA features:

Cruz says that repealing the insurance mandate, which bars insurance companies from discriminating against people with pre-existing conditions, and allowing people to buy plans across state lines will reduce the cost of health insurance and have a clear budgetary impact.

Medical malpractice tort reform, another idea popular with conservatives, could then also be included in the healthcare reform bill, Cruz said.

“Every one of these reforms has an enormous budgetary impact. An impact of billions of dollars if not hundreds of billions of dollars,” he said.

Senate Democrats rejected Cruz’s proposal as a direct violation of Senate precedent.

“Then anything could be subject to reconciliation,” said a senior Democratic aide. “You could authorize war with a simple majority and argue that it affects spending.”

The Hill provides additional coverage of this HERE.

Former security adviser Flynn confirms that he was working as a foreign agent while on Trump campaign

Source: The New York Times, MSNBC

Flynn filed papers on Tuesday confirming that he was working as a foreign agent while also campaigning for Trump during the election, specifically for a firm representing Turkish interests:

Mr. Flynn, a retired Army lieutenant general, registered as a lobbyist last year but did not file papers with the Justice Department registering as a foreign agent, providing a fuller understanding of his role, until Tuesday. While he did not work directly for the Turkish government, the firm that hired him, Inovo, is owned by a Turkish-American businessman with links to leaders in Ankara and asked him to work on an issue important to the government.

MSNBC provides addition video coverage of this HERE.

Contradicting claims otherwise from Trump, Mitch McConnell denies that Mexico will be paying for a border wall

Source: The Independent

Senate majority leader McConnell denied that Mexico would reimburse the USA for the construction of a border wall. This supports statements from current Mexican President Enrique Pena Nieto and former Mexican President Vincente Fox, both of whom rejected the idea that Mexico would pay for building the wall along the southern US border. The construction could cost as much as $20 billion:

The Senate Majority Leader's response during a Politico interview dashes the hopes of Republicans and taxpayers as to who will foot the mounting bill which could end up as much as $20 billion, according to various estimates.

Mr McConnell's remark also casts doubt on confident assertions made to the contrary by the President and House Speaker Paul Ryan, who recently said on MSNBC that there were "several ways" Mexico could pay up.

In January, the bipartisan Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget found that $120 per US household would be added to the national debt.

Senate panel approves Trump’s nominee for ambassador to Israel, David Friedman, for full Senate vote

Source: Reuters, The Independent

The U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee voted 12 to 9 to move Friedman’s nomination forward to a full Senate vote. The nomination of Friedman as ambassador to Israel demonstrates a marked disparity between the Obama and Trump administrations stance on Israel and Palestine:

Trump's selection of Friedman reflects his shift in policy toward Israel after years of friction between former President Barack Obama and Israeli leader Benjamin Netanyahu. Unlike Obama, Trump has wavered on the U.S. commitment to a two-state solution, long a bedrock of Washington's Middle East policy, and backed the embassy's relocation.

Friedman is also known for using inflammatory language against those with whom he has political disagreements. Democrats said his approach could risk security.

The Independent provides additional coverage of this HERE, as well as background on Friedman. Friedman has made several inflammatory statements in the past, including that Jewish people who support a dual state solution are worse than Nazi collaborators. That claim joins a list of others for which he drew criticism and anger:

Mr Friedman had been criticised for accusing Barack Obama and the entire State Department of anti-Semitism and for deriding the liberal Jewish group J Street as “kapos” - Jewish prisoners who helped the Nazis kill other Jews in the concentration camps.

Trump's State Department approves Saudi Arabia weapons sales that were previously blocked by Obama

Source: The Independent

The State Department has approved resuming the sale of weapons to Saudia Arabia, a deal that was blocked by former President Obama over concerns regarding human rights violations:

Saudi Arabia is leading a mostly Arab coalition targeting Houthi rebels in Yemen with air strikes.

An annual report by UN experts who monitor the conflict in Yemen, seen by Reuters, said the Saudi-led coalition had carried out attacks that "may amount to war crimes" — accusations Riyadh rejects.

Markedly, Hillary Clinton drew criticism from Trump during the election after the Clinton Foundation accepted Saudi money, which can be read about in Politico HERE. The Hill also reports HERE regarding business ties Trump has to Saudi Arabia.

The House GOP pushes bill that would allow employers to demand workers' genetic test results

Source: Business Insider

This bill would undermine laws designed to protect worker’s rights, as reported by Business Insider:

"What this bill would do is completely take away the protections of existing laws," said Jennifer Mathis, director of policy and legal advocacy at the Bazelon Center for Mental Health Law, a civil rights group. In particular, privacy and other protections for genetic and health information in GINA and the 1990 Americans with Disabilities Act "would be pretty much eviscerated," she said.

Employers say they need the changes because those two landmark laws are "not aligned in a consistent manner" with laws about workplace wellness programs, as an employer group said in congressional testimony last week.

While employers are claiming that genetic test results are needed for workplace wellness programs, the bill would also result in employers being able to shift healthcare costs onto employees:

Rigorous studies by researchers not tied to the $8 billion wellness industry have shown that the programs improve employee health little if at all.

An industry group recently concluded that they save so little on medical costs that, on average, the programs lose money. But employers continue to embrace them, partly as a way to shift more health care costs to workers, including by penalizing them financially.

Trump to conservative leaders: If healthcare plan fails, I'll blame Democrats

Source: CNN

At a recent policy meeting, Trump went over his plan for gaining support for the proposed ACA replacement, including from Republicans who have been opposed:

As for prominent Republican opponents of the health care plan, Trump sounded optimistic.

On Kentucky Sen. Rand Paul, the President was effusive about his one-time primary rival.

"I love him. He's a friend. He's going to end up voting for it," the President told the group.

A source at the meeting was astonished as to how White House staff could have been so blindsided by the initial conservative opposition to the GOP plan.

"We telegraphed it for weeks," one tea party official at the meeting said.

March 10, 2017:

Sean Spicer broke a federal rule by tweeting about jobs report too soon after its release

Source: Los Angeles Times

Image source: Sean Spicer’s Twitter account

Spicer’s recent tweet commenting on a jobs report broke a federal rule originally introduced during Nixon’s administration as a way to protect the objectivity of economic statistics:

It didn't take long for some experienced jobs-report watchers to note that he had jumped the gun and violated a longstanding prohibition against executive branch officials publicly commenting on the report within an hour of its release.

Specifically, Spicer broke the Office of Management and Budget's Statistical Policy Directive No. 3, adopted in 1985.

"Except for members of the staff of the agency issuing the principal economic indicator who have been designated by the agency head to provide technical explanations of the data, employees of the Executive Branch shall not comment publicly on the data until at least one hour after the official release time."

March 11, 2017:

Breaking: Top cop of Wall Street, Preet Bharara, fired after refusing Trump's call to resign

Source: CNBC

Image source: Preet Bharara Twitter account

Bharara had a long history of fighting against corruption on Wall Street as a U.S. attorney, and was appointed by President Barack Obama in 2009:

His removal leaves a void in the fight against corruption and Wall Street crime.

Bharara, 48, was preparing to try former aides and associates of Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo in a bid-rigging case. His office also has been investigating New York Mayor Bill de Blasio's campaign fundraising and the alleged sexting to a 15-year-old girl by disgraced former U.S. Rep. Anthony Weiner.

He also won a record $1.8 billion insider-trading settlement against billionaire Steven A. Cohen's SAC Capital Advisors, and handled major terrorism cases, including the conviction of and life sentence for Times Square bomber Faisal Shahzad.

In a statement praising Bharara for his "integrity, tenacity, and commitment to rooting out wrongdoing," Democratic New York state Attorney General Eric Schneiderman blasted Trump and Attorney General Jeff Sessions.

"President Trump's abrupt and unexplained decision to summarily remove over 40 U.S. Attorneys has once again caused chaos in the federal government and led to questions about whether the Justice Department's vital and non-partisan work will continue under Attorney General Sessions, as it must," Schneiderman said.

Want to learn more about how we can stop more bad sh*t from happening?

Donate to charities dedicated to fighting against the Trump agenda.

Learn from former congressional staffers on best practices for making your representative listen to you.

Learn how to run for office or get involved in your local political party.

Attend peaceful political protests and know your rights as a protestor.

Support organizations dedicated to investigative journalism and protecting our First Amendment rights.

Be sure to follow for tomorrow’s Bad Things Trump Did Today.

#politics #bad things trump did today #bad things congress did today #march 2017 #donald trump #trump #presidential election #president trump #resist

16 notes · View notes

marketingmbacasestudyhelp-blog · 7 years

Text

Dedicated Message Administrators - While IT has total access to SnapComms

Assignment Solutions, Case study Answer sheets

Project Report and Thesis contact

[email protected]

www.mbacasestudyanswers.com

ARAVIND – 09901366442 – 09902787224

Business Communication

Case Studies

CASE STUDY (20 Marks)

Do you believe that communication skills are an important part of your relationships and that good relationships are significant for a happy life? However, you’re not sure where to start to improve your communication? Improvement of communication skill is

necessary for better relationships at home and work It can be so frustrating when you struggle to get what you want to say across to someone important. And equally distressing when you know you battle to be in your best state to listen and be open to hear what they have to say. This series of courses will take you on a journey to put the building blocks in place for a strong foundation for effective communication, and develop your skills that are needed for relating to others to build relationships. For the past ten years I – and my clients – have been applying this communication model and enjoying more freedom to express ourselves, and noticed how our empathy and compassion have grown as we become more understanding, more understood and able to handle the complexities of interpersonal communication. Imagine being able to pick up where the mis-communication is happening, make the necessary adjustments that are within your control, and get your message across more often while also understanding others more easily. Would that be useful? Would that improve your relationships? By unpacking the complexity of communication we can simplify it, and then you’ll know how to develop your communication skills.

Answer the following question.

Q1. Why training on communication skills is necessary? Explain in detail.

Q2. Give your views on the case.

CASE STUDY (20 Marks)

Some experts believe that over 90% of communication is non-verbal. It’s important because very few people can consciously manipulate their non-verbal cues. We’ve all had that feeling that something isn’t all it seems to be when interviewing someone or chatting with colleagues. That’s because non verbal cues either support or contradict spoken messages. Even the pace or style of speech contributes to the non-verbal equation. It’s more than just body language. More than voice or even words, nonverbal communication cues you in to what is on another person’s mind. Nonverbal communication ranges from facial expression to body language. Gestures, signs, use of space and pace or information delivery. Here are several tips for improving your reading of nonverbal information. No matter your position at work, improving your skill in interpreting nonverbal communication will add to your ability to share meaning with another person. Correct interpretation of nonverbal communication will add depth to your ability to communicate. •Recognize that people communicate on many levels. Watch their facial expressions, eye contact, posture, hand and feet movements, body movement and placement, and appearance and passage as they walk toward you. Every gesture is communicating something if you listen with your eyes. Become accustomed to watching nonverbal communication and your ability to read nonverbal communication will grow with practice. •If a person’s words say one thing and their nonverbal communication says another, you should listen to the nonverbal communication – and that is usually the correct decision. •Assess job candidates based on their nonverbal communication. You can read volumes from how the applicant sits in the lobby. The nonverbal communication during an interview should also elucidate the candidate’s skills, strengths, weaknesses, and concerns for you. •Probe nonverbal communication during an investigation or other situation in which you need facts and believable statements. Again, the nonverbal may reveal more than the person’s spoken words. •When leading a meeting or speaking to a group, recognize that nonverbal cues can tell you: –when you’ve talked long enough, –when someone else wants to speak,

Answer the following question.

Q1. “Nonverbal communication is the single most powerful form of communication” Justify your answer.

Q2. Discuss the tips for Understanding Nonverbal Communication

CASE STUDY (20 Marks)

Dedicated Message Administrators - While IT has total access to SnapComms and can communicate with staff in both hospitals and issue emergency or back-up communications, they have also set up different administrators with varying levels of authority that can create and send desktop messages for PCs located in their own department or hospital. Message targeting based on Active Directory settings - The QHN team have created groups in the SnapComms database using Active Directory in order to expedite the communication of emergency events and administrative updates. Technical Services’ approach has been to empower the different administration and clinical areas of the hospital and provide them with training, reports and templates and give them access to use SnapComms as they saw fit. Ghasemi explains, “We provide a tool for them and how they use it and what they use it for is based on their need.” SnapComms messages now preferred over e-mail - SnapComms messages are preferred by Queens Health Network staff over emails. Ghasemi says that, “Especially the administration thinks it is an effective way of communicating with the rest of the population.” No surprises - Ghasemi is pragmatic when considering the benefits of using SnapComms in an Hospital environment. He says, “It hasn’t surprised us in a bad way. I expected this tool to be very effective and it is.” Speed and targeting of hospital communications- The ability to target messages to certain groups of staff or clinical applications has had significant advantages and when a system goes down unexpectedly time is of the essence. “One of the major benefits of this system is real-time.” Ghasemi says that, “You have a lot of control over when, who and how to send these messages to.

Answer the following question.

Q1. What are the Key Features of SnapComms that Benefit QHN? Discuss.

Q2. . Give an overview of the case.

CASE STUDY (20 Marks)

Several years ago, Brittany Brown completed a major undertaking. As a young, ambitious public-affairs professional, she took it upon herself in 2008 to learn how to develop a strategic communications plan for her employer, the Norfolk, Va., district of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. “It was all on-the-job training, ” says Brown, now 29. “I was learning as I was going.” Though happy with the results, Brown knew she needed further instruction to take her business writing skills to the next level. So she enrolled in a strategic communications class in 2010 at Georgetown University’s Center for Continuing and Professional Education (202-687- 7000). “That course really solidified some of the things I had learned and helped to strengthen my skills, ” she says. “And it impacted my career in a positive manner for sure.” She now works on the marketing, branding and communications team at NPR, and she’s back at Georgetown teaching writing for social media. In today’s era of hash tag-heavy tweets, abbreviation-filled texts and quickly dashed-off emails, you might not think it matters if your written communications have lots of typos and no punctuation. But in the business world, good writing still counts. The way you come across on paper or on the computer screen can impact everything from landing a job to securing a promotion. “We all make assumptions, ” says Anna Mauldin, product manager in the leadership and development division at Management Concepts (888-545-8577), which offers courses on business writing, grammar and other topics at its downtown D.C. and Tysons Corner locations. “Poor writing could lead people to believe that you don’t have attention to detail or to question your competence or ability to do a job.” It can also hold you back in your career. “You can make it to a certain level without having great communication skills, ” says David Lipscomb, interim director of Georgetown’s Writing Center and assistant professor of teaching at Georgetown, who taught the course Brown took. “But you certainly cannot make it to top management without being a good communicator.” If you get tripped up by things like using the passive voice or organizing your ideas, there are lots of writing courses out there that can help. They range from daylong sessions to longer certificate programs offered via open enrollment. You can also find custom classes for specific workplaces. (See sidebar for some examples.) In them, students might cover how to use a comma, how to structure a report or how to write concisely.

Answer the following question.

Q1. How the Business communication, report writing skills can be enhanced? Give your comments.

Q2. Give an overview of the case.

Assignment Solutions, Case study Answer sheets

Project Report and Thesis contact

[email protected]

www.mbacasestudyanswers.com

ARAVIND – 09901366442 – 09902787224

.0001pt��n�<

0 notes