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merrock · 22 days

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CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Chloe Bennet

full name: Monique O'Connor

nickname(s) / goes by: Mon, Moni

pronouns & gender: cis woman, she/her

sexuality: bi-curious

birth date: February 28th 1991

birth place: San Francisco, CA

arrival to merrock: August 2024

housing: Lupine Lane

occupation: Freelance musician

work place: n/a

family: Freya O'Connor (daughter), In-laws (tbc).

relationship status: Widowed

PERSONALITY

Monique thrives on spontaneity and loves to go with the flow. While she doesn’t particularly like being pushed to do things before she’s ready, when she eventually is Moni is prepared to give it her all. A highly creative individual, she tends to spend any spare time playing around with music; being particularly fond of singing, acoustic guitar and the keys. Compassionate and loving, Monique is emotionally intelligent and uses this to her advantage, though it often leaves her susceptible to putting her own needs on the back burner. Losing her husband was an earth shattering experience for Moni, but she’s trying to move forward. That being said, she’s not looking for love. Lucas had been the love of her life; her epic love. She doesn’t believe that she’s capable of moving on from him, and she doesn’t want to. She’s just looking for a place to call their new home, to escape city life.

WRITTEN BY: Tash (she/her), GMT+10.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive topic warning: death, police mention

Born San Franciscan, Monique O’Connor (maiden name Walker) has always been a free spirit. Even before she was born, she was enamoured by music. It was revealed exactly how much as she grew, always leaning towards noisy and musical toys, performing and singing along to her favourite tunes. While she wasn’t particularly popular growing up, she was well versed with a variety of cliques, finding a way to communicate on different levels as required. School just didn’t seem like it was her forte. She was average, at best. After graduating Monique was her strongest advocate, doing open mic nights and trying to get gigs at venues throughout the city. She'd handed out CD’s with her music burned onto them, and even willed herself to do some mini performances to prove that, yes, it was actually her singing. Successfully managing to get a regular spot after a few uncertainties, Moni began to flourish. It had been her third gig at the time when she met Lucas. He had approached her after she'd completed her set rather boldly, talked with her, bought her a drink. He was kind, charming, a little dorky -- maybe a bit too polite -- though when he told her he was fresh out of the academy and was out celebrating his first official assignment, it all started to make sense.

Over the next several months, Monique was increasingly taken by him, falling slowly but surely. While it wasn't easy in the beginning, they managed to make it work thanks to open communication and trust. Where she was willing to bend the rules, he lived by them. While she flowed with the current, he fought against it. While some may have struggled with the dynamic, they evened each other out. Falling pregnant shortly after their first year together, Lucas promised his love and devotion to her and their pending child. This led to his proposal, her acceptance, and them marrying intimately with their closest family and friends. It had been a smooth pregnancy, luckily not having to deal with any complications throughout, and they eventually welcomed a beautiful baby girl into the world — Freya O’Connor was born directly into her fathers arms on May 8th, 2015. They became the picture perfect family. Respected, sociable, involved in the community. While her husband advanced in his career, Monique remained the charismatic housewife, mother, and self-titled musician she'd grew to be over the years. Though every wife’s nightmare came true November 16th, 2022 when she had officers knock on her door and offering their condolences. Lucas had been killed on duty in the midst of raiding a drug den. Her world crumbled around her, but Monique knew that she had to keep going for their daughters sake. She had to be strong, and ride the wave.

Navigating single parenthood wasn’t easy, but she managed with the help of her in-laws, much to her discontent. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate and love them, it was just their presence without Lucas didn't feel right. As much as she loved him and would continue to do so, she found it hard living in the same space, the same town, without him. Deciding to up and leave, she sold their family home, tied off a few loose ends, packed and hit the road. After a week of travelling and making multiple pit stops for Freya's sake, they rolled into Merrock and were both admittedly taken by the town. The fact that it was far away from the place where they were constantly reminded of their loss was just an added bonus. Renting a mobile home in Lupine Lane in the mean time, the mother-daughter duo are hoping for a fresh start.

#merrockbio #death tw #moniqueoconnor

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little-drop-of-water · 6 years

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Will & Lady Tree Chapter 1

So, this is a story I’ve been attempting to to write since...forever and I finally managed to wirte something decent. I wrote it first in spanish, then translated it to english and I’m glad with how it turned out. So I’m posting it here in the hopes someone will read it, maybe even like it, I don’t know, here goes nothing.

Will ran towards the low wall in front of him, his next move was all he had in mind. He leaped forward, reached the wall with both hands and then pushed himself even further only with his arms.

He stretched his body in the air; then kept his arms fully extended in front of him while bending his legs up. He reached another low wall and placed both hands on top. Using the leap’s momentum, he moved his legs down, between his arms, without touching the wall and landed on grass. He kept running until he was able to stop a few feet away from the second wall.

As soon as he stopped, his friends greeted him with cheers and applause.

“That’s how you do a Double Kong!” exclaimed Andrew “Awesome!” He said as he pat Will’s back.

“Thanks, man.” Replied Will returning the pat on his friend’s back.

“How long did you take to master that?” asked Paul.

“Three to four days” answered Will “For the basic move, of course” added immediately. Then he spent a few moments humming and looking at the distance in thought. “I think it took me about a month in total,” he finally replied, “I started at the gym with mats and gradually increased the distance between obstacles until I reached ten feet. This is the first time I do it on grass and I still don’t dare to do it on concrete or asphalt.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to do it soon?” asked Paul.

“Bad idea,” said Andrew “you’ve been doing this parkour thing for barely two months.”

“You could break a bone” added Will “And how would you practice then?”

“Well, I could brag about getting a broken bone while attempting a Double Kong.” said Paul, and everyone laughed.

“That’s not how it works” answered Andrew, shaking his head while grinning.

“I would rather brag about the Double Kong instead of a failed attempt.” said Will, still giggling.

His phone rang then. There was an unknown number with Egeoworl’s area code on the screen. The only ones from that town that used to call him were his parents. The few friends he had there preferred to use more discrete methods to get in touch with him.

So it was probably mom or dad calling to let him know they changed their number. Will answered the phone, still smiling over what Paul said.

“Hello”

“William?” asked an old man’s voice at the other side of the line.

He wasn’t expecting that.

“Hugh? Hi. How are you?”

“Will I – have to talk to you.”

There was something different about Hugh’s voice, a kind of tiredness Will didn’t remember. The family’s former gardener was an old man, true, but his voice had always been strong and clear. This was the first time he sounded according to his age.

“It’s about your parents” he continued. His voice was not only tired, there was also sadness in it; suddenly, Will felt as if he had a hole in his stomach. When he was finally able to speak, his voice came out as nothing but a whisper.

“What is it?” he asked.

“They were coming back from visiting some friends” the old man answered “Their plane crashed against a cliff – I’m sorry” his voice was also a whisper at the end.

The call must have ended at some point, because he could no longer hear Hugh’s voice on the other side. He must look awful, since his friends approached him with concern and he should have told them something, because both of them hugged him tight. But he couldn’t quite tell what was going on. If human beings had an auto pilot, Will’s had turned on that very moment.

Paul and Andrew walked him to his apartment; they helped him contact the rest of his family to inform them what happened and made tea while Will booked the soonest flight available to Egeoworl. When they left, they told him he could count on them for anything.

Will could barely look at them in the face while muttering a husky “Thank you”. He tried to smile, but suddenly his face was too heavy to move, or so he felt.

He packed, had some dinner, tried to sleep and next morning took a taxi to the airport. He never cried, he never even sobbed. As far as Will knew, he was also dead.

Sounds came to him muffled, distant. And even if he couldn’t say he saw everything in shades of gray, colors did seem duller and shadows were darker and deeper. It was as if a veil covered him, separating him from the rest of the world.

Maybe that’s what mourning was. When a loved one dies, you die with them too and sooner or later you are reborn. While you remain “dead”, you are so numb you can’t feel anything; the pain actually comes when the rebirth begins, for now you understand you must continue your life without a loved one.

Will was still “dead” and didn’t know when he will be reborn. He wasn’t eagerly expecting it either. In that state he did things automatically and not being fully present, right. But that was better than being invaded by feelings, at least for the moment. Plus, it was convenient.

He had over thirty hours of journey ahead and three connection flights in two different continents. He would leave London on an autumn Thursday and arrive at Egeoworl on a spring Saturday. Being “dead” would at least allow him to think and not make stupid mistakes. It would also give him the chance to go unnoticed.

Inside Heathrow Airport his looks could easily mix with those of the thousands of sleep deprived and tired travelers wandering through the corridors and stores or sitting in waiting rooms until their flights took off. He would have more time than enough to cry in Egeoworl.

He took his first flight, listened some music, dozed, ate; he fell fully asleep at some point and when he woke up they were about to land. He waited a few hours in the second airport doing pretty much the same he did during the flight.

Every time he had to move he felt heavy, as if he was asleep or paralyzed and someone else was moving him like a string puppet. It was amidst the Indic Ocean, on his way to Australia that the rebirth began.

Will woke up from one of many naps and felt something forming deep inside him. It started in his mind, stomach and heart at the same time. He suddenly needed to scream. But things wouldn’t end up well if he did it in the middle of a flight, so he went back to sleep. The scream, or whatever that was, wouldn’t come out if he was unconscious… right?

That worked the first two or three times but the scream became more powerful as hours went by. It soon invaded him completely; it was all he could think of and all he could feel. He spent the rest of the flight writhing desperately on his seat.

As soon as he came out of the plane, he ran to the nearest bathroom and threw up. Than seemed to stop the rebirth process for a while. Back to his living dead state, Will carried on with the journey. He would remain that way until the end.

He waited God knows how many hours on that Australian airport and finally took his last international flight. After some more hours of flight and a couple of hours in yet another waiting room, Will was boarding the small aircraft that would take him to St. Nicholas Island, where Egeoworl was located. It was the same type of aircraft in which his parents died.

The aircraft started shaking as they flew over the ocean. Turbulence was common on that region, as well as storms and fog banks. Technology made flights and ferry trips safer but traveling to St. Nicholas Island had always been dangerous.

They were about to land when Will saw the island’s cliffs and the accident site: It was surrounded by police tape and the area’s vegetation was nothing but pieces of coal. The crash was so intense that chunks of cliff fell onto the ocean.

Will stared that cliff area from his window; he couldn’t take his eyes off it no matter how hard he tried. His parents died there and, by what he saw, it had been awful.

When the aircraft came to a full stop all passengers went down to the landing track. Will noticed immediately the typical salty scent in the island’s air and took a deep breath; he would get used to in within a few days and no longer perceive it.

Once inside the building, the passengers gathered around the only conveyor belt and waited for their luggage. It was then that Will was able to look at them in detail. They all looked just like him or worse: numb, exhausted and devastated. All of them wore black and none seemed to be fully present. They were all living dead, exactly like Will.

There was a woman in front of him at the other side of the belt; her eyes were teary and reddened. She looked almost like his high school History teacher, who, if he remembered correctly, had an identic twin living in Auckland – oh shit.

The woman looked at him and burst into tears. Will remained in silence and lowered his head; his eyes now stung as they filled with tears. They didn’t know each other but there was no need. The conveyor belt started working at that moment. The sound shook Will, making him blink, scaring the tears away, only if for a while.

Luckily, his luggage was the first to come out. As soon as he grabbed it, he left that room as fast as he could. Will noticed the board next to the main entrance door on his way out; it was normally used for unimportant notices but this was not the case. This time there was a text on the board which read:

The people of Egeoworl are deeply saddened by the event that took place on November 19th. Our condolences go to the families of the victims.

O’Connor

Jones

Turner

Wood

Arbor

Smith

Brown

Krueger

Ríos

He froze right there and then; his last name was not on the list. What was he expecting? He was in Egeoworl after all. Will started shaking from head to toe; he clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt; gripped his luggage tightly until his knuckles went white and began sobbing without shedding a tear until his face turned red.

“They are so inconsiderate” Said a woman behind him.

“I can think of a word worse than that” Answered Will; choking on anger.

“I’m sure you can think of several, in fact”

Will turned around and met a woman about seventy years old. The lady was tall and stood straight; she wore all black, her clothes were covered in cat’s hair and from her came a scent of fresh herbs that Will could smell from where he was standing.

“Hi Mrs. Smith” said Will “Who in your family –

“My grandson, Edward” the woman interrupted “He started college at Wellington and forgot some things while moving out. He was coming to pick them up” she finished with a trembling whisper.

“I’m sorry” was all Will could say.

“Thank you” answered Mrs. Smith with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes “Are you the only member of your family who’s coming?”

Will nodded in silence. Then Mrs. Smith rummaged in her purse and took some white plastic pieces from it, they were board letters.

“I have one just like this at home” she said, nodding towards the board “A smaller one, of course, but it comes with different sized letters.”

Will’s heart shattered like glass. Mrs. Smith handed him the letters and pointed her gaze to the board once more.

“Go ahead” she said “They won’t dare to take it off. I wanted to add your last name since I saw the notice yesterday, but it’s way better if you do it.”

Will clutched the letters in his hands and headed towards the board; there was an empty space right at the bottom. He began placing the letters one by one: C, I, L, T, H. There were tears in his eyes by the time he finished writing his last name. He stepped back to take a look at the notice; it seemed as if it had been written that way since the beginning.

He read the text once more. Then tears streamed down his face and there was nothing he could do to stop them; he began to sob again, so hard this time he stopped breathing at all and his heart pounded against his chest so violently it hurt. William Cilth was finally reborn and it didn’t feel as bad as he’d imagine. It was infinitely worse.

#My Stories #Will & Lady Tree

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idornaseminary · 7 years

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Chapter Thirty-Six: Enzo and Beatrice

“I can do it on my own, thank you.”

“Oh, dear,” Dr. Evans said, shaking her head. “I think you ought to rest more before walking.”

“With all due respect, madame,” Enzo said, pressing his feet against the cold tile of the infirmary. “If I hear any more crying today, I may just go insane. I doubt you want a mental patient on your shoulders, as well. All I ask for is an hour. Please.”

Dr. Evans placed her hands on her hips, snorting. “Very well, Mr. Bellerose. But if you are not here, laying down, in an hour, I am sending Professor O’Connor to bring you back. And not-a one person wants that crone after them. Capice?”

“... Kap-eesh,” Enzo tried to say, the word foreign to him.

Dr. Evans pursed her lips before tapping the pocket watch on her hip. “One hour, boy,” was all she left him with before heading off to attend to one of the wounded.

Enzo slipped his feet into a pair of slippers he was given by some of the mediwizards yesterday, groaning as he stood, but keeping it to a minimum; he was just about free and did not want to be forced back down already.

It had been two days since the match. Two days since six people perished. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was futile. All he could see when he closed his eyes were the bodies of the dead. Now, they would be shipped back to their homes, their family and friends never being able to know what took their lives. Just a small note on their coffin reading ‘our condolences’.

Beatrice took in a deep breath as she stood outside the infirmary, her hands clasped tightly together to stop the tremor that seemed to resurface over the past few days every time she came back here. In the two days since the Quidditch match, she spent most of her available time hopping back and forth between Enzo and Halina’s bedside, usually keeping watch over her roommate who was still unconscious. They’re alive. It’s okay. Chewing on her bottom lip, she slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside the room, eyes darting first to the stationary woman who lay unmoved since the day before, chest rising and falling slowly, before looking over to Enzo’s bed, heart skipping a beat when she noticed it was empty. He was standing up, dark bags under his eyes, wild black ringlets matted in the back after spending the past forty eight hours lying in a hospital bed. Beatrice took a tentative step forward towards him, unsure if she had seen him or not. “Enzo?” she asked, voice a few decibels above a whisper as her heart started thundering within her chest.

Enzo, standing up now, looked over to the voice. It was soft, but curious. He blinked a few times, his vision still a bit fuzzy, and saw a girl standing a few feet from him. He recognized her. This time, the ends of her hair were not dyed blonde, but blue, and she looked tired. This hardly looked like the same, excited girl he met on the carriage to Old Aroon.

“Hello,” he simply said, not being able to think of much to say. “Beatrice, yes?”

She nodded and offered a small smile, her warm, brown eyes starting to well up with tears. “How’re you feeling?” she asked, struggling not to cry as she hesitantly crossed the chilly room.

He cringed internally as she made her way to him, hoping that she wouldn’t go in for a hug. He had enough of people prodding and poking at him since he woke up after the match.

Offering what he could of a lighter tone, he spoke. “I have been better…” his view shifted towards Halina’s general direction, but she was still blocked off from view. Why aren’t they awake yet? None of them… “I was just about to go for a walk… I would not mind company.”

Beatrice nodded slowly and walked over to him, offering her slender arm to him, thinking that he might need some extra stability. “Where would you like to go?” she asked, gesturing to the double doors of the infirmary, the world beyond lying patiently in wait.

He didn’t understand people’s obsession with touching, especially when it came time to ease pain. Nevertheless, Enzo reached his hand out, gripping her arm as they made their way out of the infirmary. It was nice, he figured, to feel the warmth of another. He was so often told that his skin was like ice.

“Anywhere but here,” he muttered as they entered the corridor.

Luckily, most of the castle was vacant. He knew classes had been put on hold for the rest of the week, at least, so he assumed most students were in their dorms, mourning.

He looked over to Beatrice, noticing the redness under her eyes. “From what I am told, she is stable. Just unconscious. She should be alright.”

She nodded and looked up at him, eyes shining in the sunlight as she steered them outside into the sheltered courtyard. “Thanks to you,” she said, tenderly placing her hand on top of his, pleasantly surprised by how cool his touch was under her soft finger tips. “You risked your life to save hers. It was beyond brave what you did.” A light breeze swept through the limestone columns, carrying a few amber and saffron colored leaves through the pine scented air, tugging a few tendrils of Beatrice’s sapphire tinted hair away on the current.

The air was cool, and Enzo was glad that Beatrice guided him in the opposite direction of the Quidditch pitch. The… remains had been cleaned, of course, but it still very much felt like a graveyard. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to play again.

“I doubt people would think much of me if I just stood around,” he murmured. He thought for a moment, realizing that Beatrice was in the stands during the game; she wouldn’t have been as distracted as the players were.. “There was a voice, correct? I didn’t just imagine it, did I? Just as the storm halted… You must have heard it, too.”

Her blood ran cold at his question, causing her heart to skip a beat. “Yes,” she said slowly, focusing on the limestone slabs beneath their feet, trying to ground herself in the present moment as she felt her memory start to lead her back to that horrific day.

“I couldn’t tell you what was said even if I wanted to. It sounded ancient and archaic, like a spell from the dark days,” she explained, her grip on his hand tightening slightly as she spoke, the uneasy feeling that somebody somewhere was listening in on their conversation even though they were the only two people in the courtyard.

Enzo knew it was a touchy subject, especially since her best friend was involved, but he could no longer keep his thoughts and questions to himself. He stopped walking, his side beginning to ache. He found a bench at the edge of the courtyard and sat, leaning back slightly and swelling up a long intake of oxygen.

“And before they jum - erm - fell,” he said, trying his best not to offend. “They also spoke… Icelandic, if I am not mistaken. I assume you don’t speak it?”

Beatrice shook her head and sat down beside him, tucking her legs beneath her. “Unfortunately not,” she said with a sad smile, tugging the sleeves of her white knit sweater dress down over her hands. The sound haunted her dreams, leaving emotionally raw when she woke up in the middle of the night all alone screaming bloody murder. It was bad enough that the past two nights she had gone to the infirmary to get a vial of dreamless sleep draught to be able to fall back asleep. Maybe figuring out what it meant would help her find some closure on the matter so she could start moving forward.

“Perhaps we could ask the Headmistress about it?” she offered, eyes full of hope as she played with the fringe on her knee high suede boots.

“Perhaps,” Enzo replied, sighing. “Although, it seems that she has secluded herself for a while.”

Headmistress Liara always took tragedy to heart. With the missing students of the previous years, she blamed herself. Even if a student were to be expelled on their own accord, she would disappear for days on end. This, however, was a beast of an entirely different nature. He didn’t want to think about how she was handling six students quite literally dropping dead with her watching.

Beatrice huffed and ran her fingers through her hair, wincing slightly when her fingers got stuck in a tangle of curls, gently tugging at the knot to release them. “Well, I’m not entirely sure how one would spell it, so it’s a little difficult to go to the library and search for a translation,” she said with a shrug, perking up a minute later when a thought came to her head. “I might know of a spell though.”

“I’d be very interested in such a spell,” Enzo said, offering a light smile as Beatrice toyed with her hair. He didn’t want to say it, but the two had similar styles. He almost laughed at the thought, but he knew his ribs very well may break through his skin if he did so.

“It’s in an old Charms book I found in the library when I was bored one night,” she explained, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb. “You feel up to a little adventure?” Beatrice asked with an excited grin. She stood up and extended her hand to Enzo again, suddenly filled with excitement at the prospect of discovering what might have caused the tragic accident. Maybe if we can find what caused it, we can find out how to fight it.

Enzo chuckled, pain shooting through his torso. He winced a bit, shaking his head. “No adventures for me. Not for a little while, at least. Give me time to heal. If you find anything, let me know.”

#Script #Enzo #Beatrice

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realestate63141 · 7 years

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Oh No, Mr. Bill!

Like what you read below? Sign up for HUFFPOST HILL and get a cheeky dose of political news every evening!

Financial entanglements forced Todd Ricketts to withdraw his nomination to be deputy commerce secretary — proving your bookkeeping can be too murky even for the Trump administration. Evan McMullin is vying to raise his national profile — oh, he’s also mulling a run for Congress. And Bill O’Reilly was fired from Fox News. Somewhere, Jeff Zucker just asked someone to hold his beer. This is HUFFPOST HILL for Wednesday, April 19th, 2017:

NIL O’REILLY - Thank goodness for Ivanka and Jared’s moderating influence over Rupert Murdoch. Lydia O’Connor and Michael Calderone: “Bill O’Reilly will no longer be employed at Fox News, the network’s parent company 21st Century Fox said in a statement Wednesday. The decision comes after allegations of him sexually harassing female colleagues prompted protests outside network headquarters and a mass exodus from advertisers…. Fox News host Tucker Carlson will take over O’Reilly’s 8 p.m. time slot next Monday, Fox confirmed…. Following a bombshell New York Times report earlier this month indicating O’Reilly and Fox News have paid around $13 million in settlements to address complaints brought by five of his former female colleagues, advertisers began fleeing the show. Within days, more than 50 companies announced they would no longer air spots during the show.” [HuffPost]

How did O’Reilly stay on board for so long? “Even beyond these incidents, O’Reilly often made clear his contempt for women. On his radio show in August 2006, he commented on the rape and murder of a young woman, suggesting that she shared some of the blame because of her intoxicated state and what she was wearing…. I wrote about O’Reilly’s comments in 2009 when I worked for the site ThinkProgress, tied to the news that he was slated to speak at a fundraiser to benefit rape survivors. In return, O’Reilly sent his producer, Jesse Watters, to track me down and ambush me while I was on vacation in another state a few weeks later.” [HuffPost’s Amanda Terkel]

In the middle of all this, O’Reilly met the pope on Thursday.

CHAFFETZ RETIRING FROM CONGRESS - The Utah congressman is looking forward to spending more time with his wife a corkboard in his basement covered with magazine cutouts of Hillary Clinton connected by thumbtacks and red string. Paige Lavender and Matt Fuller: “Rep. Jason Chaffetz (R-Utah), the controversial chairman of the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee, said on Wednesday he will not run for re-election, after BuzzFeed reported that he would retire at the end of this term…. Chaffetz noted he would ‘not be a candidate for any office in 2018,’ leaving open the possibility he may run for governor in 2020…. His decision sets off an immediate gavel fight to take over the top spot on the oversight committee…. Among some of the leading contenders for the spot are former Freedom Caucus Chairman Jim Jordan (R-Ohio), Rep. Jimmy Duncan (R-Tenn.), and the man Chaffetz beat out for the gavel in late 2014: Rep. Michael Turner (R-Ohio).” [HuffPost]

But will David French get into the race? “[F]ormer independent presidential candidate Evan McMullin spoke with advisers to evaluate his options in the state with a victory suddenly seeming more likely than before…. [A] source close to McMullin told Independent Journal Review that McMullin is ‘considering running in 2018’ but still hasn’t made a decision on how he will proceed.” [IJR]

Like HuffPost Hill? Then order Eliot’s book, The Beltway Bible: A Totally Serious A-Z Guide To Our No-Good, Corrupt, Incompetent, Terrible, Depressing, and Sometimes Hilarious Government

Does somebody keep forwarding you this newsletter? Get your own copy. It’s free! Sign up here. Send tips/stories/photos/events/fundraisers/job movement/juicy miscellanea to [email protected]. Follow us on Twitter - @HuffPostHill

RICKETTS WITHDRAWS NOMINATION - Lynn Sweet: “Unable to untangle his complex financial holdings to the satisfaction of the Office of Government Ethics, Cubs board member Todd Ricketts, tapped by President Donald Trump to be the Deputy Commerce Secretary, on Wednesday withdrew his nomination, the Chicago Sun-Times has learned. Ricketts, a Wilmette resident who is a member of the billionaire Ricketts clan, was willing to divest his considerable personal portfolio of holdings, but that was apparently not enough. Some of the Ricketts investments are in family enterprises, including the Cubs…. Ricketts has varied business interests, from his ‘Higher Gear’ bike store in Wilmette to his position on the TD Ameritrade board. The Ricketts family are large shareholders of the company Joe Ricketts founded in 1975. Ricketts and his three siblings are on the Cubs board, legally known as Chicago Baseball Holdings LLC.” [Chicago Sun-Times]

TRUMP-CURIEL SHOWDOWN, PT. 2 - Alan Gomez: “President Trump will confront a familiar figure in the lawsuit over a DREAMer who was deported by federal immigration agents: U.S. District Judge Gonzalo Curiel. He’s the judge who oversaw a lawsuit involving Trump University who Trump accused of being biased because of his ‘Mexican heritage.’ Curiel, who was born in Indiana, approved a $25 million settlement between Trump and students who claimed they overpaid for real estate seminars…. Now, Curiel has been assigned to handle a lawsuit brought on behalf of Juan Manuel Montes, 23, a California resident who was deported in February despite being approved for the Deferred Actions for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, which provides protective status for undocumented immigrants brought to the country as children.” [USA Today]

ADELSON DUMPED A LOT OF MONEY ON TRUMP’S INAUGURATION - Condolences to the online gambling industry. Rosalind S. Helderman and John Wagner: “Casino magnate and Republican mega-donor Sheldon Adelson donated $5 million to President Trump’s inaugural festivities, as corporate interests and lobbyists lifted the inaugural committee’s fundraising to record levels. In all, more than 45 individuals and companies donated at least $1 million each to the effort as Trump broke with the practice of most recent inaugural committees and placed no limits on corporate or individual donors. Major donors included Robert Mercer, the hedge fund manager who has been one of Trump’s biggest donors, Dow Chemical, and Phillip Ruffin, a longtime Trump friend and business partner. Several owners of National Football League teams gave $1 million, including Washington Redskins owner Daniel Snyder, Los Angeles Rams owner Stanley Kroenke, Houston Texans owner Robert McNair and a Trump friend who owns the New England Patriots, Robert K. Kraft, whose team is visiting the White House on Wednesday.” [WaPo]

FUTURE FAILED PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE ANDREW CUOMO MADE A LOT OF MONEY OFF OF A BAD BOOK - Tom Precious: “Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo...has made $783,000 from HarperCollins for his book. The book sold 3,200 copies since it was published in the fall of 2014, according to tracking company NPD BookScan. That works out to royalty payments to Cuomo of $245 per book…. In his 2016 tax filings made public Monday, the book royalty income was listed at $218,100…. Cuomo’s government spokesman declined to say how many copies of the book have been sold. ‘This payment was contractual and per the agreement with the publisher,’’ Richard Azzopardi, a Cuomo spokesman, said of the book income in 2015.” [Buffalo News]

WONDER HOW THIS WILL GO - Congratulations to Exxon Mobil on its resumed joint venture. Jay Solomon and Bradley Olson: “Exxon Mobil Corp has applied to the Treasury Department for a waiver from U.S. sanctions on Russia in a bid to resume its joint venture with state oil giant PAO Rosneft, according to people familiar with the matter. Exxon has been seeking U.S. permission to drill with Rosneft in several areas banned by sanctions and applied in recent months for a waiver to proceed in the Black Sea, according to these people…. Congress has also launched an investigation into whether there were ties between aides to Donald Trump and Russia’s government during the presidential campaign and the political transition.Secretary of State Rex Tillerson is Exxon’s former chief executive officer and in that role forged a close working relationship with Russian President Vladimir Putin and with Rosneft, a company that is critical to Russia’s oil-reliant economy.” [WSJ]

ANOTHER BUSH VYING TO SCREW UP ANOTHER MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL TEAM - Guess they’ll be able to bond over the fact that they both dated Mariah Carey. Douglas Hanks: “Jeb Bush and Derek Jeter have joined forces in their bid to buy the Miami Marlins, according to sources familiar with the talks. The former Florida governor and retired New York Yankees star once were rivals for the Major League Baseball franchise but now have teamed up to try and buy the team, the sources said. They are competing against a New York financier named Wayne Rothbaum, manager of Quogue Capital, a source close to the situation said. It is not known if other would-be suitors of the Marlins remain in the hunt.” [Miami Herald]

OH MY! Patricia Mazzei: “Miami Republican Sen. Frank Artiles dropped the n-word to a pair of African-American colleagues in private conversation Monday night — after calling one of them a ‘fucking asshole,’ a ‘bitch’ and a ‘girl,’ the two senators said. Over drinks after 10 p.m. at the members-only Governors Club just steps from the state Capitol, Artiles told Sens. Audrey Gibson of Jacksonville and Perry Thurston of Fort Lauderdale that Senate President Joe Negron of Stuart had risen to his powerful GOP leadership role because ‘six niggers’ in the Republican caucus had elected him…. It’s unclear whom Artiles was referring to, since the only black senators in the state Senate are all Democrats.” [Miami Herald]

BECAUSE YOU’VE READ THIS FAR - Here’s a beagle playing the piano.

FLORIDA TO BE SLIGHTLY LESS TERRIBLE FOR A BIT - New Jersey, however… well, you can’t make zero any more devoid of value than it already is. Darren Samuelsohn and Ken Vogel: “[O]nce his exclusive seaside retreat at Mar-a-Lago closes for the season, Trump is expected to shift his weekend plans north, to his Trump National Golf Club in Bedminster, New Jersey — and bring with him all the chaos that comes with being a preferred presidential destination. ‘We’re kind of apprehensive, I guess you could say,’ said Nick Strakhov, a retired telecommunications professional and longtime resident who serves on the Bedminster land use board. ‘It’s nice to be recognized. But on the other hand, if it gets to be tedious, we might start to complain.’ Street closures and traffic jams were a big problem last fall across the region when the then-president-elect traveled to Bedminster by motorcade from Trump Tower in midtown Manhattan for a weekend’s worth of interviews with potential Cabinet nominees.” [Politico]

COMFORT FOOD

- “The Simpsons” turns 30 years old. Here are the first “Simpsons” shorts from the “Tracey Ullman Show.”

- Gibbons aren’t happy about a rat in their enclosure.

- Recounting a date with the former general manager of the Times Square Olive Garden.

TWITTERAMA

Bill O'Reilly Alex Jones Rudy Giuliani Tomi Lahren Chris Christie People who are having a waaaaaay different 2017 than they expected.

— W. Kamau Bell (@wkamaubell) April 19, 2017

I Was Ambushed By Bill O’Reilly. But I Still Have A Job And He Doesn’t. AMA.

— Amanda Terkel (@aterkel) April 19, 2017

Updated Fox News lineup 8 PM Pepe Frog and Friends 9 PM The Comments Section 10 PM Email From My Dad With the Subject "RE: Re: re: FWD:"

— Dave Itzkoff (@ditzkoff) April 19, 2017

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