#move over pepper spray there’s a new sheriff in town

[twc-thoughts-you-didnt-ask-for]

What if the detective wasn’t a detective at all but a barista and accidentally spilled hot coffee/tea all over A instead

[thatgoblin]

Small Town Affairs

Summary: Hazel is an Omega in the small town of Tin Springs, Midwest America. She's trying to live her life after breaking up with the local sheriff, John Walker, and his mate, Brock Rumlow. New people aren't something that happens often, but when a new pack comes to town her whole life goes from a small mess to a complete disaster in the best way.

Warnings: Domestic Violence, Assault, Sexual abuse, Himbo Bucky, Misogyny, will update as story goes.

Chapter 1

It wasn’t often that people moved to Tin Springs, population 803. We barely had enough people to need a high school and a junior high school let alone more than a general store and gas station. There wasn’t even a Walmart for nearly 20 miles. You had to make a special trip to the larger town of Conway that had fast food restaurants and strip malls while the closest we had was a Dollar General and a ‘home style’ restaurant that was closed after 9. We did have a few bars and a strip joint, but those were just outside of town. Far enough that most people didn’t count them as being a part of town. It was very much a dying breed of Mayberry towns that used to thrive till people moved for better jobs and schools or to just get out of that small town headspace.

So when what looked like a whole fleet of moving trucks drove down the main road, everyone was talking. Turns out there was some guy with the last name Rogers that owned land that belonged to his pack that he was moving his new pack onto. The family had basically moved away or died off by the time I was 18. Most of the townspeople thought the houses on the land would stay empty till someone bought the land up for farming or to build new houses on. No one ever did and the moving trucks were telling us why it wouldn’t happen. Everyone and their dog would be gossiping and talking about who the new people were, where they came from, why they came back now, but I just ignored the whispers and gossip as I checked out folks at the general store.

“Hazel, would you be a dear and stock the shelves before you leave tonight?” The store owner, Peggy Carter, asked from her office. It sat just to the side of the register, making it easy to keep an eye on things. Her prim English accent was very much out of place in the small midwest town, but it wasn’t as crisp as it used to be when she first moved to Tin Springs.

“Sure. I’ve got my keys so I’ll lock up for you too,” I said, glancing back at her before the bell above the door rang. “Howdy,” I greeted the customers before going back to tidying my area. They were just a couple of women that were grabbing last minute items for dinner, which was the usual crowd so close to our closing time. I knew their faces, but couldn’t recall their names. I’d seen them around town, but I didn’t exactly interact with people outside of my job.

“Did you see the paper today? John Walker’s up for re-election again,” one woman said as they meandered towards the dairy section. While they sort of tried to stay quiet, the store was empty at that time of day and with it being so small that the voices carried easily.

“I saw that. He’s got my vote for sure,” the other woman said. “You know, he’s been such a good sheriff and I don’t think anyone’s running against him. It should be an easy win for him.”

“Hopefully. Things are just fine as they are now, why change them?” The first woman said. “Though, it is a bit odd that he’s with another Alpha and not an Omega.”

“I know, but Brock’s a good man. Both of them are. It’s just too bad things didn’t work out with them and that Omega girl.”

I should be used to it by now, hearing people talking about me and my exs. When you date the county sheriff and the only garage owner in town, things aren’t exactly secret. Even if they didn’t know your name or face, they knew your business.

“You know, John always said she was a good gal, but just had some problems. His mother and I play bridge at the church on Wednesday evenings and she told me that he was heartbroken over their split up. Him and Brock adored her, said they wanted to have kids too. I do hope she’s getting herself straightened out,” the second woman said.

I could handle the whispers and looks I’d get from the older Omegas in town, but this was a new low. They weren’t even trying to keep it quiet anymore.

“Just so ya’ll know, we’re closing soon, so if you’ve got some trash talking to do, do it outside where I don’t have to listen to it,” I called, earning small gasps from the women. They hurried to the front to check out, keeping their eyes down as I glared at them. If they were dumb enough to talk about me in front of me, I was not going to go easy on them. They didn’t say another word as they left, leaving me behind to glare at their backs.

“You should learn to ignore them. People will always talk,” Peggy said from the office.

“The least they could do was be discreet about it,” I mumbled. “Besides, it’s already been over a year and you’d think people would let it go and move on.”

“Well, with the new people moving in, you might get your wish,” she said. I could only hope.

The rest of the evening went by pleasantly fast. Peggy left me in charge to stock the shelves after closing. We closed usually at about 8:00 PM, no one showed up after 7:45 PM on a regular day. So to hear the door jostle as someone tried to open at 8:10 PM was odd. Frowning, I put down the pasta to look over the aisle to see a man trying to peer in. He had dirty blond hair styled back into a faux hawk of sorts, and dressed in ripped skinny jeans and a tight black tee. There were a few cuts on his face, a bandaid over his nose, and what looked like hearing aids hooks around his ears, the man stood out like a sore thumb compared to the locals. Seeing me, he put on a big smile and waved.

My first instinct was to ignore him, but since he didn’t look familiar I figured he was one of the new people in town. They wouldn’t know the hours of any of the stores in town. I decided to at least let him know the store was closed. If anything happened I had a bat under my register and pepper spray on my keys in my pocket. Going to the front, I unlocked the door before opening it.

“Hey, sorry, we’re closed,” I said as the muggy summer air came rushing in. “We close at 8.”

“Damn it,” the man hissed as he pulled out a cell phone. “Is there any other place to get groceries around here? My pack and I just moved to town and we don’t have any groceries. We’ve been working all day to get stuff into the house and didn’t realize the time.”

“Oh, uh not really, sorry,” I said. “Dollar General closes at the same time and you’d have to go to the next town over for Walmart and that’s 20 miles away.”

“What time do you guys open in the morning?” He asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“We open at 6:00 AM.” The way he looked when I told him was like witnessing a puppy being kicked. I could smell him, he was just an Omega. What harm could it do to let him in this once? Peggy had let a few people in here and there after hours, so what was one more? “Okay, so you can’t tell anyone or you’ll get me in trouble, but I can go ahead and let you in to shop. I’m just restocking shelves, so go ahead and get what you need.” Stepping aside, I let him in before locking the door behind him to keep anyone else out.

“Thank you so, so much. You’re a lifesaver, really,” he said as he grabbed a cart and proceeded to grab things off the shelf. I didn’t mind staying late, rent was going up and it was getting harder to pay, so a bit of extra time wouldn’t hurt. “I’m Clint by the way.”

“Hazel,” I replied as I went back to the shelves. Letting him fill his cart, I finished up my work before meeting him at the register. It was a lot of food, but then again how many moving trucks had showed up? “I really hope this isn’t just for you.”

“Naw, there’s 8 people in my pack. I’m hoping this will be good enough for at least dinner and breakfast, but there’s a few of us who can eat out a whole house,” Clint said with a chuckle as I scanned the items.

“Wow, that’s a lot. We don’t really have any packs at all around here. Maybe a handful, but it’s just three people at most,” I said.

“Oh yeah? We just moved here from New York. One of our Beta’s, Steve, used to live here. You might know him,” Clint said.

“Last name Rogers?” I asked, getting a nod. “Not personally. I know of the family and the land, but that’s about it,” I said with a shrug. “Alright, and total for today is $234.89.”

“Yup, sounds about right,” Clint said with a chuckle as he swiped a credit card. What did they do in New York that allowed them to buy that many groceries? Not to mention that was just for one night, I couldn’t imagine a full week’s worth. Maybe they should go to Walmart for groceries next time. “So is there anything fun to do around here?” He asked as I handed him the longest receipt I’d printed before.

“Eh. Depends on what you want to do. We have a restaurant that closes at 9:00 PM, a few bars around here, and a strip joint, but other than that there’s not much to be done unless you’re a fan of high school sports,” I said with a shrug.

“I’m going to have to give Steve a slap upside the head for bringing us to the most boring place in the world,” he sighed before looking at me wide eyed. “I mean, it’s just that it’s kinda slow compared to New York.”

“Don’t worry. I think it’s boring too, but like most of the folks that live here, it’s cheaper to stay than to move if you don’t have another job or family else where,” I said. “Sometimes the rodeo comes to the next town over and a lot of people go there.”

“Yeah, when he said this was a completely different place, I didn’t think he understood how all of us would find it so different,” Clint said as he started to load up the grocery cart.

“Here, let me help you take those out to your car. I’ll get the cart from you and you can head out,” I said, grabbing the keys to unlock the front door to let us out then relocked it.

“Thanks. You know, I guess small towns do have a lot of nice people willing to help out,” Clint said as he led the way to a black sports car.

“Sheesh, fancy,” I snorted as he popped the trunk.

“Yeah, it was a pain to drive it down the dirt driveway I have with my mate. I don’t want to part with her, but I also don’t want to ruin the undercarriage,” he said with a wince.

“That’s a bummer. There’s a car lot in town here, but I don’t know if they’d have anything your style,” I said, handing him a paper bag full of cereal.

“Howard, my mate, would shit his pants if I tried to go there,” Clint said with a chuckle. “He’s too posh to even think of buying anything pre-used. I’m pretty sure he’d have a heart attack.”

“Sounds like he’ll get comfortable real quick,” I said with a snort.

As we were finishing up putting the groceries in the car, there was a short honk and siren bwep before a sheriff’s car pulled into the spot next to Clint’s.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Clint frowned, unsure of what was happening, but I knew.

“Howdy friend!” A familiar voice called as a blond man with bright blue eyes and an irritating smile stepped from the patrol car. Dressed in his brown and khaki uniform, Sheriff John Walker approached us. “You must be part of the pack that just moved to town.”

“Uh, yeah. Just got in today,” Clint said, shifting his body again. “I’m Clint.”

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Sheriff Walker. Figured that since I saw you in town, I’d catch you real quick for an introduction,” the man said, holding out his hand for Clint to shake. Raising a brow, Clint shook the officer’s hand.

“Nice to meet you. You’ll probably be seeing the rest of my pack throughout the week,” Clint said before closing the trunk of his car.

“You’re on the Rogers property, yeah?” John asked, resting his hands on his hips.

“That’s the one,” Clint said with a nod.

“I think I went to school with one of the Rogers’ pack. Steve, I believe his name was. He was a grade above me. His family stayed in town a while before leaving. Didn’t think we’d see anyone come back to live on the property,” John said. I wanted to get away from this conversation as fast as possible. John hadn’t even addressed me, let alone acknowledge my existence. The last thing I wanted was for him to start shit with me in front of someone.

“Probably, I mean, he’ll be in town tomorrow to get all the paperwork fixed up with his mate,” Clint said. “But I should be going. We’ve been driving all day and everyone’s tired and hungry.”

“Alright, I’ll let you go,” John said with a nod, backing up to let Clint move. I kept quiet, trying to not look John in the eye as I moved the cart back to the sidewalk. “Have a nice evening, now,” he said, typing his broad brimmed hat to Clint.

“Thanks. See you around, Hazel,” Clint said to me with a tight smile and wave. I gave a short wave back before booking it back to the store.

Don’t follow me, don’t follow me, don’t follow me.

“Hazel, wait up,” John called as he jogged to catch up with me. I wanted to scream as I stopped at the front door to unlock it. “So, you’re talking to the new people now, huh?” He said as Clint pulled out and drove away.

“John, go away. It’s none of your business and this is not part of the agreement,” I hissed, getting the door open. Shoving the cart in front of me, I tried to shut the door in his face, but he’d stuck his boot in the way.

“Look, I’m just trying to keep an eye out for you, okay? Don’t get cozy with the new people. They might be interesting, but you never know what people are really like,” he said, pushing his way into the store.

“Ironic coming from you,” I snapped, glaring at him as I moved to the register. “I’m trying to close, leave.”

“Remember what I said,” John sighed. “Don’t trust those new people.”

“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you and we both know it’s not far,” I snarled. “Now go away or I’ll short Brock this week.”

“Fine,” he said. “But just remember, I was the one that always looked after you. Even after everyone started those rumors about you, I stuck by you.”

“A lot of good it did me. Now go.”

John looked like he might say something else, but stopped himself. Instead, he shook his head before leaving the store. Quickly, I locked the door after him. Standing there, my hands shook as tears pricked my eyes. The asshole could always get under my skin. Just a damn look and I’d be nearly in tears. As much as I wanted to believe I was stronger now and could handle myself, that small interaction showed me that he still had a grip on my life.

Finished for the night, I headed home. There were no more encounters with anyone else thankfully, allowing me to relax for the night with a beer on my porch. My house wasn’t much, a one story two bedroom house that had a less than stellar paint job, but it was home. It was old, from the 20’s, but it was sturdy. I wasn’t there much but to eat, sleep, and shower anyways.

Sitting on the porch, one beer turned into two which turned into three. It was the fourth one that I finally felt like I could stop shaking completely. The last time I had seen John and talked to him was nearly a month ago. We’d been separated for almost a year and he was being his usual passive aggressive self just to push my boundaries. He’d come into the store and made a show of talking to me like I was a kid, letting everyone see he was the calm, collected Alpha that was trying to reach out with an olive branch to fix things between the unstable Omega who just needed some gentle handling to become a decent person.

I had nearly come unglued on him, but managed to keep my voice low and my eyes down. Peggy found me right after, sobbing out behind the store. No one, not even Peggy, knew what really happened between all three of us, but I wasn’t about to tell them and neither were John and Brock. We’d come to an agreement that they would leave me alone and not talk to me unless absolutely necessary and I’d stay quiet. As well as paying them off. It was nearly half of both my paychecks, but it was worth it if it meant they didn’t come into the store when I was there or tried to talk to me at all.

But John was starting to toe the line and push back. Brock kept his part of the deal, I was pretty sure he never really cared for me, but John was always obsessive. The deal was going to have to be revisited if John didn’t back off.

Done for the night, I tossed the bottles before heading to bed.

The last few days of the work week were about the same. Go to work, come home, go to work, come home. I saw Clint now and then who came in to grab a few things here and there, but that was it. He was nice and despite John wanting to tell me who I could and couldn’t see, it felt better to know that there was someone in town who didn’t know things about me without my permission.

While we weren’t best friends, we did send memes to each other when I was on break and he wasn’t busy. At one point he messaged me a picture of his shed full of cobwebs and wasp nests and asked if it was appropriate to burn it to the ground. I told him to be careful because there could be copperheads underneath or groundhogs. That led into me explaining what those were and learning that the man had lived 37 years thinking a groundhog was something made up by a city for a holiday and it was really just a beaver they were using.

It seemed that I would be teaching him, and probably his pack vicariously, what to look out for in their new homes. I still hadn’t met the rest of the pack, though I had seen one or two here and there around town.

Soon Friday rolled around. I woke up at about 4:30 AM. Friday would be busier than usual as it was a payday. I showered then dressed, sliding on jeans and a long sleeved shirt, I then made a pot of coffee before doing my makeup. Just enough to hide the bags under my eyes and a few marks on my neck that were visible above my shirt collar.

It was my regular dress for my job at the store, Peggy didn’t care too much so long as it wasn’t offensive. Which meant anything but plain clothing and no writing. After coffee, I fixed my hair so it didn’t frizz then grabbed my thermos of coffee. I locked up then headed to work.

The sun was peeking above the trees and clouds as I pulled into work around 5:15 AM. Peggy was already there when I walked in the back.

“Did you have any problems closing the other night? I forgot to ask,” She said as I stepped into the office to get my cash drawer for the day.

“It was fine. Had one of the new people stop in, Clint. The blond that comes by for snacks. He’d made it in just after we closed, but I went ahead and let him shop since they didn’t have anything at their houses,” I said, taking the drawer from the open safe.

“Houses? You mean they’re not all in one?” She asked, looking up from her book keeping.

“There’s not a big enough house for more than four people on their property. There’s like ten of them,” I said with a snort.

“Well I’m sure we’ll meet all of them at some point. We’re the only grocery store in town,” she said.

“Unless they need to buy in bulk. Clint nearly bought everything in the store,” I said, counting my drawer at the register.

“We can only hope. Next time you see them, let them know if they need more than a few things to get us a list and we’ll get them large amounts. We used to do that a lot when there were bigger packs in my hometown,” Peggy said. The woman was nearly 60 and had lived in England up until about 30 years ago, getting the general store from her uncle who had passed away. I was used to hearing the facts of ‘We used to do this in my hometown’ a lot.

“Will do.”

Finished with setting up, I unlocked the front door and turned on the rest of the lights at 6:00 AM. The usual rush of moms right after school starts as well as early rising elderly came in, making for the usual busy rush that Peggy would step in and help with at the second register. By the time 10:00 AM rolled around, things were tapering off. We’d have a lunch rush for those grabbing a quick something, then back to a nice slowness.

“I’m gonna take my break after this last person checks out,” I said to Peggy who nodded. I was starting to get hungry and I saw a bearclaw in the donut rack that had my name on it. A few cups of coffee could only hold me over for so long before I needed actual food.

Before I could clock out for a break though, two people walked into the otherwise empty store. They were part of the new pack, just the scent alone said that, and they were Alphas. Great.

“I got this if you want,” Peggy said softly as she caught the scent too. Peggy was a sweet Beta and she acted as a stand-in grandma for me, but I couldn’t just run at every Alpha that came in.

“I’m good,” I said, giving her a small wave and smile. It wasn’t long before the Alphas came to the register. One was taller, probably over 6’, with steely blue eyes and dark, earthy brown hair with a scruff on his face. He smelt of fresh rain and peaches with that Alpha musk. Dressed in an almost too tight tee with an extra sleeve and glove covering his left arm and hand, he looked out of place in the button up work shirts and plaid that was usually worn by the adult men around town.

The other was shorter, more tailored. His light brown hair had a bit of copper to it as it was swept back from his face as that held a neatly trimmed beard. His dark eyes stayed on the phone in his hand. He too was in a tee and jeans that were fitted tighter, making them look. . . Well almost foreign. A whiff of cedar and maybe smoke or tobacco swirled into the first Alpha’s scent. Both of them mingling and making something settle deep inside my belly.

Fuck.

“Is that all for you two?” I asked, holding back with every fiber of my being any scent or sign of them making me feel like a simple, needy Omega.

“That’ll be it,” the first Alpha said. It was standard groceries of meat, cheese, dried goods, condiments, basically anything to stock up a house after moving.

“Is your pack settling in okay? Clint comes by now and then,” I said, trying to make small talk. Usually I didn’t, but something about those two had me anxious. Not a bad anxious, but. . . I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Oh, uh yeah. We’re getting there,” he said with a nod. “It’s different than what we’re used to.”

“What are ya’ll used to?” I asked, looking from one to the other.

“A lot more people and a lot less trees,” the second Alpha spoke up, his voice lilting into an accent I couldn’t place. “But it is lovely here. I quite like how peaceful it is without masses of people a hair’s breadth away.”

“Glad you like it,” I said, giving him a soft smile. “So are all of you from New York too?”

“A few of us, but not all,” the first Alpha said as he pulled out his wallet.

“Well, hopefully it doesn’t take you long to settle in. Today’s total is $87.56,” I said, tapping a few buttons on my keypad.

“Tell me, is there a nursery around? For plants that is,” the second Alpha asked, leaning onto the counter when I started to help pack up the groceries into the cart. “I am wanting to start a flower garden, but would like to see where the supplies are first.”

“A plant nursery? Um, there is one just west of the town. Just take the main road and it’s about ten minutes from town. It’s run by the Mennonites and they have a bunch of different plants to pick from. They’ve even got starter trees for fruits and some bushes for blackberries and the like,” I said.

“Thank you. I appreciate the information,” he said with a soft smile and a nod. I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“You’re welcome, if any of your pack needs anything just ask around. We’re all pretty friendly here,” I said as I finished putting the bags in the cart.

“I will keep that in mind,” he said, moving over to the cart to hold out his hand to me. “I am Helmut. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Hazel. It’s nice to meet you both,” I said, taking his hand. It was warm and soft, different than the work roughened hands I was used to. Helmut rolled his eyes at the other, elbowing him.

“Hey,” he grumbled, shooting him a glare. “Oh, uh, I’m Bucky.” A quick wave and awkward smile was all I was given as he quickly moved to push the cart away.

“He’s house broken, I swear,” Helmut said with a wink. I couldn’t help the honest to God giggle that came out of me. “Have a good day, Hazel,” Helmut said, smiling as he shook his head at Bucky.

“You too,” I called after as they left. It didn’t even occur to me that I was staring after them till Peggy came up next to me.

“You could always ask for a photograph. It would last longer,” she said with hum.

“Oh shush,” I said, waving her off. “They were just, ya know, nice. Most Alphas around here are curt and so loud and demanding. It’s a nice change to see is all.”

“Uh huh. Even if you weren’t letting them get a scent of you, you were definitely giving them eyes. I’ve never seen you do that for anyone. Not even when you were with ‘Those-Who-Shan’t-Be-Named.’ I think it’s cute and wonderful that you had that reaction,” Peggy said as she went to the other register so I could take a break. “Besides, when’s the last time you actually touched someone on purpose?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just being nice to new people is all,” I said, locking my register computer after clocking out for a break. Quickly, I grabbed the bearclaw before leaving the dollar and change for Peggy. “It was just a handshake. Besides, you always tell me to work on my customer service skills,” I said as I walked to the back door.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” She called after me.

[aewriting]

Sometimes Wish I'd Never Been Born at All

I posted this on AO3 for Michael Guerin week back in September of 2019 (here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20709674 ).  I thought I'd repost it here, though, because it is basically a reworking of the Christmas classic "It's a Wonderful Life."  But with aliens!

Warnings for violence, illness, racism, and homophobia. Something Very Bad happens to Alex in this story, though it is not graphically detailed.

***

Max has been dead for months.

Maria broke things off a week ago.

Isobel looks at him like he’s broken.

Alex… shit.

Michael takes another swig of acetone. Alex has moved the fuck on.

More acetone.  Then some more.  It’s not enough.

He looks at the alien glass in his hand, runs his new, perfect hand along it.  It’s the nicest part of him now, miles better than his heart.

“I wish I’d never come here.  I wish I’d never set foot on this fucking planet…”

***

He wakes up to the sound of knocking at the door of the Airstream.  His head aches.  “Coming!” he calls out.  He must have passed out fully dressed.  He goes to move the paper he uses to cover the windows of the Airstream, only to discover that the windows are bare.  Huh. Moving stiffly, he makes his way to the door and flings it open.

“What is it, Sanders?”

Old Man Sanders just squints up at him.  “How the hell do you know my name, boy?”

Michael scrapes a hand over his face.  “Christ, Sanders, it’s me, Michael.”

“I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

Michael laughs a bit at that.  “I know your eyes are going, but come on…”

Sanders glares at him. “You’re trespassing on private property.”  He sniffs the air.  “And you’re a drunkard, to boot.  Sheriff should be here any minute.”

“You called Valenti on me?” Michael says, incensed.

Sanders gives him a confused look.  “Valenti?  Sheriff Valenti’s been dead for over a decade.  You okay in the head, boy?”

It’s only then that Michael looks around the Airstream.  It’s bare and run-down, like no one lives here, like he just…

Appeared.

A prickling sensation goes up his neck.  “What day is it?”

“September 20, 2019,” Sanders says. 

Huh, okay, that’s right.  He starts to hear sirens. Sanders nods his head, pleased.  “That’ll be Thomas now.”

A tall man exits the first cruiser, while a familiar blonde gets out of the second car.

“Cam!” Michael exclaims.  “I thought you left town, but I’m glad to see you.  Could you tell Sanders here that it’s me?”

She takes off her aviators, stares at him blankly.  “And who are you?”

Shit.  Shit shit shit…

Michael breathes.  Okay, so things definitely aren’t right.  Sanders doesn’t recognize him.  Cam doesn’t know who he is.  Some old white dude – Thomas? – is the Sheriff now.  Valenti has apparently been dead for ten years.  It’s the right date. 

What could have caused something like this?  His mind immediately goes to alien stuff – mind control, body snatching, influencing, weird tech stuff…

Weird tech stuff.

The glass, last night.  His desperate wish.

“I’ve never been born,” Michael murmurs in disbelief.  “I’ve never been born…”

Cam is looking at him, concerned.  “Let’s get you down to the station.”

***

He’s in his familiar cell.  He’s had time to think, and he’s wondering if maybe this version of things isn’t a good thing, a better thing for everyone involved. 

 “Is Max here?” he tries.  Max is dead in his reality, languishing in a pod.  Maybe without Michael around, things hadn’t gotten so fucked up.

Jenna eyes him.  “Max?  Don’t know a Max.”

Michael wants to smirk at her, say some smartass comment. He refrains, just nods his head.  “Never mind.”

Sheriff Thomas strolls in, makes a big show of unlocking the cell. “Well, Mr. Guerin, it appears you’re free to go.  Sanders has decided not to press any charges.  Says he just wants ‘that poor boy to get some help.’ End quote.”  Thomas’s eyes narrow.  “Can’t say I would have been so kind.”

Yeah, so Thomas is an ass.

“Thanks,” Michael says curtly.

Thomas leans in close to him.  “Hey Guerin?”

“Yeah?”

“I suggest you leave my town. We don’t take kindly to drifters here.”

***

Michael goes straight to the Pony.  It’s not a long walk. He doesn’t have a watch, or a phone, but he imagines it’s open already.  From what he’s seen so far, he knows that something has happened, but he has yet to determine if that something is bad.

Because when he thinks about it, wouldn’t Max and Iz have been better off without having to worry about his sorry ass all their lives? Maria wouldn’t be pissed and hurt. His mom, oh god, she could be alive, maybe, and Alex? Fuck, maybe Alex never joined the Air Force, never went to war, never lost his leg…

He feels half sick and half hopeful when he sits down at the bar and sees Maria’s stunning face.

Christ, she’s beautiful.  He’s always thought so.  He wishes he could have held it together with her.  There’s a temptation as he looks at her here to just pretend – to flirt, see her respond, do their familiar dance.  Just the way her eyes are appraising him now, looking him up and down, he knows he could do it.  It would be easy.

“Hey,” he says, giving her a slow smile.

She tilts her head to the side with a little smile.  “Hey yourself.  What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a whiskey.”  She nods.  “And if you don’t mind, a phone call or two?  I seem to have lost my phone.”  Her smile falters just a little.  “Both local numbers,” he adds quickly.  You can watch me dial if you want.”

The smile’s back.  “Sure,” she says, and directs him to a landline mounted near the bar.  He dials Max, then Isobel.  Strangers answer.

Is it possible that, when he made the wish, Max and Iz never crashed here either? 

He sits down at the bar thoughtfully.  Would… would that be bad?  Without Isobel, Noah would have never been freed, Rosa would be alive.  Well, alive the right way…

“Penny for your thoughts?” Maria says lightly, as she cuts up lemons. The sharp scent brings Michael back to the present.

“Listen, do you know a guy named Max?  A woman named Isobel?”

Maria lays down the knife. “Hmm…”

“Friends of mine from around here.  My age?”

“Can’t say I do, sorry.”

Michael takes another slow sip of whiskey.  “Okay… okay.  Um, how about a woman named Liz?”

“Liz…” Maria says the name slowly. 

“Yeah, Liz,” Michael says.  “Liz Ortecho?”

“Oh my god,” Maria mutters, half to herself.  She gives a little shake of her head. 

“What?” Michael asks, alarmed.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.”  Michael sticks out a hand. “It’s Michael, Michael Guerin.” Maria looks at the offered hand for a long moment before reaching out and shaking it.

“Okay, Michael…” She gives him an odd look.  “Liz hasn’t lived here since we were, like, 14.  I… I have no idea where she is now.”

“What… what happened?”

Maria’s once-open face is now wary.  She glances around quickly.

“Maria, please,” he says.

She looks startled, backs up.  “I never told you my name.”

Michael drops his head.  Shit. It’s still early, and there are only two other people at the bar. “Look,” he says, voice low.  “I’m sorry to lay this on you, DeLuca, but something weird has happened to me, and I need your help to figure it out.”

Her expression gets even more closed off, and she pulls back.  “If you’re about to say something gross, or, like, sexual, then you can just leave right now.”

Michael huffs a little breath, “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He takes a deep breath and decides to just be direct.  Be direct, ha… it’s what he should have done with her in his reality.

 “You see, I woke up this morning, and I wasn’t where I should be.”  She’s staring at him, confused.  “Like, it wasn’t my reality.  I… I made a wish last night. In my reality.  That I’d never been born.”  She bites her lip.  “I’m, I’m not suicidal or anything, but… but I’ve just been through a lot of shit, and in my reality we were friends… um, more than friends, actually…” She’s backing away from him. “But not anymore, because I fucked things up, like, well before we even started dating, and…” He sees her reaching under the bar toward where she keeps the pepper spray.  “Shit, Maria, please don’t get me with the spray.  I know I sound insane, but I think my wish came true, and that now I’m in a reality where I was never, um, here.  And I just need some answers so I can see if things are actually better here.”  Her hands are still under the bar.  “And if they are, well, you’ll never see me again.  I won’t, like, linger here and just mess up everyone’s lives again, okay?” He sounds absolutely batshit, and he knows it.  “I… I really did know you well, in my reality.  I can prove it, if you want.”

“What? How?”

Michael looks at her.  “You have three little birth marks, on your left…” he gestures toward her left breast.  She gapes at him. “Yeah.  Your necklace is from your mom.  It’s been in your family for years.” Maria’s hands clutch at her necklace, and at least she’s not gripping the pepper spray any more. “Should I keep going?”

Maria’s brow is furrowed.  “No, no,” she says quickly.  Her face is scrunched up, and she’s staring at him.  “Suppose I went out on an enormous limb and decided to believe you.”  She crosses her arms.  “What would you want to know?”

“I guess first, I’d want to know, um, are you happy here?”

She’s staring at him. “What?  Am I happy?”

“Yeah, you know…” His shoulders slump a little. “I… I think I just wished myself away, and I want to know that it was worth it.  That things really are better without me. So far, I just don’t have enough evidence either way.”  There’s still confusion on her face, but a hint of pity, too.  Michael hates it. “Where I’m from, you owned the Pony. Your mom, she was sick, though. I know things were tough for you.”

Maria’s mouth twists a bit.  “It… it sounds like things are pretty similar here, honestly.”

Michael nods a bit, looks at her sadly.  “I’m sorry about Mimi.”

Maria ducks her head.  Sniffs.  “Ask me something else. Please,” she says quietly.

Michael clears his throat. “Okay. Um, back to Liz, then.  What happened to her?”

Maria pulls up a stool on her side of the bar, sits down, and looks at Michael.  “I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this shit.  I mean, you sound insane, but, just the fact that you know her name?”  She shakes her head.  “It was right after Thomas became the Sheriff.” Her eyes narrow.  “He’s a racist asshole. It was right after Jim Valenti died – he was the Sheriff before Thomas.  His death was real sudden – “

“Cancer?” Michael interrupts, knowing what he’s going to hear and fearing it all the same.

“Yes,” Maria says quietly. 

“Super fast acting?”

“Yes, yes,” Maria says.  “Your, um, reality too?”

Michael nods. “Happened later, though, just a few years ago.” His mind is going.  The alien got him here, too.  So there was definitely still a crash, definitely still aliens, right?  But he wasn’t among them.  Were Max and Iz?  And Jesse still killed Jim, but even earlier, why?

“Huh.”  Maria gives him a considering look, then continues. “Anyway, there was a special election.  Jim’s wife ran, but Thomas opposed her on this ridiculous anti-immigrant platform, and as soon as he won he just started cracking down. Liz’s dad – “

“Arturo, yeah. Sweetest man.”

“Yeah.”  Maria shakes her head.  “Thomas decided to make an example of him, turned him into ICE and got him deported.”

“Oh my god.”

“Liz and Rosa, they were still in school, obviously.  My mom and I, we begged them to stay with us, but they wouldn’t leave Arturo alone. They went back to Mexico with him, and that was the last I heard from Liz.”  Maria looks down at the bar.  “I still google her sometimes, you know?  Nothing ever comes up, nothing that’s definitely her, you know? She was so smart, so kind. It’s still hard, not knowing what happened to her, you know?”

“I’m sorry for bringing it back up,” Michael says.  It feels odd to him that there could be such a large deviation in this reality.  Like, what part could he have possibly played?

On the other hand, if Rosa had moved to Mexico at 15, then she hadn’t been murdered by an alien.

“In your reality,” Maria says tentatively, “what happened to Liz?”

Michael considers the question.  “Well… Arturo was never deported. He was still running the Crashdown. Liz, she travelled around right after we graduated, then became a biomedical engineer.  She was up in Colorado for a while, then came back to Roswell.”  He leaves out everything about Rosa.  “Um, recently, things have been… tougher.  Her boyfriend recently passed away.”  It’s still hard for him to say that Max is dead.  “You and her are still best friends, though.”

Maria smiles a little.  “Liz was always so smart.” Michael nods his agreement. “Back in school, you know, it was always me, her, and Alex, the three amigos.  God, we did everything together.”

Michael wills himself to sound casual.  “How, um, how is Alex?”

Maria stills. “Um, Michael?” she asks cautiously. 

Michael swallows thickly. “Yeah?”

“Your Alex…” Her eyes search his face, looking for something. “Was…” Michael doesn’t like her hesitation.  “Um, was he attacked?”

Michael’s eyes close of their own accord.  “Fuck.” When he made that goddamned wish, the point was for things to be better. “Yeah… damn.  He joined up here, too?”

“Joined up?”

“Yeah, the Air Force?”  She’s looking at him, disbelieving. “He was attacked? Iraq? Lost a leg?”

“No, oh god,” Maria’s shaking her head. “No. Oh god,” she repeats.  “Michael, no, the military?”  Her head’s still shaking.  “No, Alex would have never…  No.” Her hand is at her mouth now.  “His leg?” She looks pained.  “Why would your Alex have ever joined the military?  No… maybe he was different, in your reality.  Here, he… he loved music, and riding his skateboard…”

Michael is cold all over.  “Loved?” Past tense.  She’s using past tense.

Maria’s biting her lip, hard.  “Senior year, right before graduation, there was a break-in at Alex’s place. His family’s toolshed, actually.”

Oh god.

“Whoever did it stole a bunch of stuff and they… they…” Her eyes are welling up, now.  “I’m sorry. It was so, so bad, Michael.” She closes her eyes, wipes at her nose.  “It’s just…  They never caught who did it, but… but Alex was there, and they just, just…”

Michael’s voice is cold.  “What, Maria?  What did they do to him?”

“They beat him.  With a hammer.”

***

Maria closes the bar, after that.  Sends the other two people home, locks up, turns the sign, and pours big shots for she and Michael.

Maria’s nearly done with hers. “He’s in the same care home as my mom,” she says, not even looking at Michael. “He’ll… he’ll never be able to be on his own, with the traumatic brain injury, you know?”

Michael’s all cried out, and yet…

Maria just loops her arm around him as he shakes against her.  “I see him there, when I visit Mom.  I go see him, too.  He… he’s peaceful, I guess.  Like, I don’t think he’s in pain, but…”  She’s quiet.  “It’s hard, it’s just really fucking hard.”

“It was his dad,” Michael says, finally.  “You know it was his fucking dad, right?”

Maria’s mouth is set in a tight little line.  “Jesse claimed he saw a guy leaving the scene.  Latino.  Sheriff Thomas latched onto that, of course, made life that much more hellish for everyone.”  She sniffs.  “Jesse was the one that helped get him elected over Mrs. Valenti. There was no way Thomas was going to investigate him for the attack on Alex.”

“Was anyone else hurt?”

“No.”

“That you know of,” Michael says, bitterly.  Maria looks at him quizzically.  “I love Alex,” Michael says.  It feels simpler to say it here, to this Maria.  Her eyes still go wide with surprise. “I… I was with him, in his shed, when his dad found us together. Senior year, just like here.  His dad, he came after us with a hammer.  Broke my hand.”  Michael sees her looking, shakes his head.  “My hand, it… it’s better now, and that’s a long story.  But within weeks of that, Alex enlisted.” Michael looks away.  “I don’t know what happened here.  Maybe he was with somebody different, maybe not.  Maybe he was just, like, by himself, looking at porn or listening to music, or like, doing a thousand other things his dad didn’t like.”  Michael closes his eyes. “Or maybe that day his dad would have been out for blood, no matter what he walked in on. It’s not like he would’ve even needed a reason. He’s a fucking monster.”

“Poor Alex,” Maria whispers.

“Yeah,” Michael murmurs.

***

“So… we dated?  And you love Alex?”

“I’m bi,” Michael shrugs.

“Okay… but, um, that’s not what I was getting at. Are you with him, where you’re from?”

Michael shakes his head. 

“Why not?”

Michael gives a small, harsh laugh.  “Oh, I’ve hurt him DeLuca, hurt him bad.  You know how you were best friends with your Alex? Ditto for my reality, too.”

“Oh… oh.”

“Yeah.”

***

They’re well on their way to drunk when Maria stills, narrows her eyes at Michael.  “Those first two people you came in here asking about, what were their names again?” 

“Max and Isobel.”

“Last names?”

Michael stretches his neck.  “Same one for both of them.  Evans.  They’re twins.  Our age.”

Maria looks thoughtful. “Twins… okay… yeah. She was blonde, he had dark hair?”

Oh no, there was the past tense again.  “That… that’s right.”

“They went to middle school with me.  Before, when you asked, I was trying to think of, like, customers or something.  But no, I remember them now.  They moved away in the middle of 8th grade, I think.” She’s frowning a bit.  “Yes, it was definitely 8th grade, same year Liz left, but they left earlier in the year.  We didn’t have a big class to begin with, so it was weird that three people left so close together.”

Michael relaxes a little, but not completely. “Do you know where they went?”

“No…”  Maria says.  “It was all really sudden. One day they were there, and the next day they just… weren’t.” She cocks her head to the side.  “I mean, they just brought in cupcakes for their birthday, and then the next week they were gone.  I wasn’t close with them, but I remember even the teachers seemed surprised.”

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

“Their, their birthday?” Michael asks shakily. “8th grade?  And then they just fucking disappeared?”

The desert campout.  The drifter.  Without Michael there to help fight him off, to help dig the grave, something must have happened, they must have been hurt… or discovered, somehow.

And disappeared. 

That was 15 years ago.

His mind begins racing.  15 years!  Fuck, if Project Shepherd got them, that could mean 15 years of experimentation, torture, of god knows what. Are they in Caulfield?  Another site?  Dead?

Oh, fuck, and now it makes sense, why Jim Valenti was killed earlier, in this reality.  Max and Iz were just kids – he must have pushed back against Jesse, pissed him off, and Jesse took him out.

Michael’s hyperventilating now, and his heart is beating so fast in his chest that it’s all he can feel, all he can hear. 

“Michael?  Michael!” Maria is screaming.

“I’m sorry,” Michael sobs, to the world, to the universe. “I shouldn’t have made the wish.  It’s so much worse now.  I… I’ve been so focused on what I didn’t have that I didn’t see what’s still there, and I’m sorry,” he cries.  “I’m so sorry!” His body’s shaking.  “Please, goddammit, please! I need to go back!  I need – “

The bar phone starts ringing.  Maria’s cell starts ringing. 

She jumps, reaches for the cell first.  “Yes?” she says, voice trembling.  “Oh… okay.” She freezes.  “Holy fuck.”  She puts her hand over the phone.  “Guerin, Guerin… it’s the care home, it’s my mother. She says she needs to talk to me, has a message for you.”

The hair on Michael’s forearms stand on end.  He watches as Maria puts the phone on speaker. 

“Strange, isn’t it?  Each man’s life touches so many other lives.  When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?” Mimi’s voice sounds oddly calm.

“Mom?”  Maria says.  “Mom? Why did you ask for Guerin?”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Mimi begins.  “Each man’s life touches so many other lives.” It’s the same damn thing all over again.  “When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Michael hisses.

“I don’t know,” Maria hisses back.

“Strange, isn’t it…”

“Fuck, Guerin,” Maria finally says.  “She’s doing the movie thing again.  She’s quoting ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’”

“How do you know?”

“We used to watch it every Christmas. And I just googled it.”

“Right, right…

“Have you ever seen it before?” Maria asks frantically.

“No.”

“It’s… it’s, god, it’s like the same thing you told me.  The main guy, he gets shown what his life would be like if he’d never been born.”

“You see, George, you’ve really had a wonderful life.”

“Fuck… um, okay.  Well, does he get back?  I mean, he must, it would be a bad fucking movie if he didn’t, right?”

Maria runs her hands through her hair. “Yeah, yeah.  He… he realizes that what he had all along was good.  That his life, it matters.”

“Don’t you see what a mistake it would be to just throw it away?  Don’t you see?  Don’t you see? Don’t you see?”

“I’ll be better,” Michael pleads.  “I’ll be so much better. I… I’ll stop with the acetone.  I’ll… I’ll work on me, I really will.  I see now that, that just being there for everyone, it matters.  I want to be better. Not just for Alex, or Max, or Iz, or Maria, but for me. I won’t… I won’t throw it away.  Just please let me go back.”

“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.”

Michael looks around wildly.

“Every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings. Bell rings.  Bells rings.  Bell rings.”

Michael grabs Maria’s hand, squeezes it hard.

“Thank you,” he says.

He focuses on the old red fire alarm bell in the corner of the bar, uses his powers, and lets it ring.

***

There’s a ringing.

Michael shoots straight up in bed.

His Airstream bed.

Oh thank god.

He scrambles for the phone.  “Hello?  Hello?”

“Michael?” comes Isobel’s voice.  “I just… I just felt you.  Are you okay?”

Michael looks around, exhales.  “I am now, Izzy.  I am now.”

[imagining-sio]

Escapism II

Chapter 2: The Local Pain In The Ass

“How were the boys?” Edna asked as I stepped back into the shop. I stood firmly in the Forrest, a perplexed expression upon my face.

“They are certainly something.” I said wearily, most of the customers had left, and it was around the time Edna was supposed to leave.

“Well they certainly are,” she chuckled fondly, sweeping the broom in hand side to side.

“How come you didn’t tell me those were the ones in the biker gang?”

“Because they aren’t, honey. Are you seriously believing the gossip about those boys?”

“I mean, the evidence given-“

“The evidence given? It is he said she said- Don’t believe a word that comes out of Rumlow’s General store. That spoilt little rich boy is only spreading those rumors to get women’s attention.” She shook her head.

“Who is Rumlow?”

“Oh I forget you’re still new around here,” she set her broom upon the wall next to her apron.

“Brock Rumlow is the stepson of Alexander Pierce; the county sheriff. Pierce himself is of old money. But Brock, that boy took every worst quality in trade for being handsome. You best steer clear of that boy, and his group of friends.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. He doesn’t come around here does he?”

“Please, he won’t go anywhere near Barnes, not after the incident at the Witch’s Coven.”

“I’m sorry; did you just say Witch’s Coven?”

“Yes it’s the local dive bar, it’s just outside of town, you’d probably pass by it on your way home. A few years ago, there was a nasty bar fight between those boys. It didn’t end pretty. Brock got off Scott-free. James however.”

She didn’t have to elaborate at that point.

“Well, we should be heading home.”

“Wait I thought you said I would be closing.”

“Well I’m think we take the rest of the day off. Thomas won’t mind, as long as I have a say.” She winked at me. This old woman was up to no good. You could see it from a mile away.

“I won’t argue that.” I undid my apron and set it upon the hook. I helped clear everything off outside, bringing it in so that Edna wouldn’t have to exert herself.

I placed the chairs upside down upon the tables, in order to do one last sweep of the place. Edna inventories for tomorrow and made sure the books were back in stock. She easily finished before me, reminding me to lock up for the afternoon. I nodded and kept sweeping. I turned some music on as soon as she was out of earshot; blasting my phone to the highest volume. I began serenading the broom handle, and then dancing with it; eventually using it as the microphone. It certainly made cleaning a lot more fun.

I finished up sweeping placing the remaining lint in the waste bin. I removed the bag and replaced it with a new one. I grabbed my belongings and walked out the only entrance, the front. Making sure to carry the garbage at an arms length away.

I went around back to place it in the dumpster only to find someone ogling himself in Oliver’s reflection.

“Can I help you?” I threw the trash bag over the side of the dumpster, catching the mans attention. His hair was tight along the sides of his head, and heavily spiked on top. Almost like he used way to much hair product to keep it that way. He had chiseled features, his cheekbones could cut glass. Something seemed off about him. Maybe it was because I caught him ogling himself as if he was out of a musical where he tries to win a girls heart by forcing her to marry him. Or maybe it was because he wore a black turtleneck with a blazer. Those types of guys were the ones who thought they were hot shit and fainted it to everyone they framed lesser.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” he adjusted his jacket, coolly playing off that he wasn’t breathing heavily on my bronco.

“I’m new here.”

“So you’re the new girl I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“I take it your a local then?” I raised a brow.

“Not just any local sweetheart, I’m the local,” he cocked his head to the side. He leaned his arm in the hood as if he was treating my car as his own.

“A local who needs to get his arm off my hood?” I raised my brows expectingly, holding my keys in the one hand. The slight look of fear graced across his smug features.

“Funny I never pictured a girl like you driving a thing like this?” He tried to play it off again, clearly disregarding my mood and patience.

“I’m just full of surprises, local,” I shot back, clearly unamused.

“Well how bout I take you out tonight and we’ll see how surprising you really are?” He blocked my path to my driver side door.

“Please move,” I said, my right hand slyly going into my purse, frantically searching for the pepper spray.

“Not till I hear an answer sweet thing,” he smirked.

“I don’t even know your name, what makes you think I’m gonna give you an answer.”

A motorcycle engine cut into the conversation. I swore I heard the man growl, not in the friendly way.

“Hey, is he bothering you miss.” I heard the voice. I turned my head to find my neighbor. Surprise graced my face, over his black shirt was an acid washed denim jacket. The way he sat in the matte black motorbike was making his thighs far larger than they should have been. He bore no helmet, his brunette locks shone brightly in the afternoon sun.

“Get lost Barnes, we’re having a conversation.”

“Really, what’s her name?” He smirked. The man stood silently boiling.

“Well Brock?”

“Fuck you Barnes!”

“I don’t swing that way buddy, sorry to disappoint.” His smirk only grew wider as the man, now known to me as Brock, turned beat red with anger, walking away. My shoulders slumped in relief as he rounded the corner.

“I thought he’d never leave.” I unlocked good ole Oliver and tossed my purse in the passenger seat.

“Yeah, he’s like a disease I swear.” Barnes chuckled.

“Thanks for the save, I thought I was gonna have to pull out old faithful here,” I gestured to my pepper spray. His eyes widened at the sight.

“Brock is harmless, really. He’s all bark no bite.” He shrugged.

“I’m not the kind of person who will take that kind of risk.” I put the can of pressurized blinding spray back into my vehicle.

“I noticed.”

“Do you now? What have you been watching me, neighbor?” I crossed my arms, shutting the door with a loud resounding thud.

“Hard not to when we’re the only two on the street.” He snapped back.

“Still doesn’t explain the ‘cute neighbor’ part. Just how would you know that if I haven’t seen nor spoke two minutes with you,” I glanced at my watch, “One of those minutes being right now.”

His mouth went slack. He scratched the back of his neck, the collar around his shirt loose ring, revealing the taut muscle beneath the black fabric.

“There is no good answer for that is there?” He said sheepishly, a red tint brushing across his cheeks.

“And that is the reason why I carry pepper spray.” I got back into my bronco, turning over the engine.

“See you round, neighbor.” I gave a condescending wave to him as I pulled out of the parking lot and drove home.

The sun was shining just right over the mountain, and it’s light shimmer across the lakeside. The wind blew the scent of the water into the vehicle, and allowed that nice summer breeze to rid the hot summer heat to something more bearable.

I arrived at the house, immediately going to my room to put on something more comfortable. I put on the black leggings with the racing stripe down the sides and oversized grey sweatshirt. I grabbed my bottle of wine and glass, waltzing outside to enjoy my nightly sunset upon the lake. I planted myself in the chair upon the landing, popping the cork open and pouring myself a glass of rosé.

I looked over the lake, a few boats were out enjoying themselves on a nice evening. Whether they were fishing or out to enjoy the sunset. One boat however was as if it were in the x games. It was weaving between the others, making sure to splash them. A sense of dread grew exponentially as the boat started hurling toward me. I barely had a chance to cover my wine before a large wave hit me square in the face. The force of the wave was hard enough to knock me off my chair, sending me into the lake itself.

I heard a large group laughing at me as they sped off, and I by the time I was able to climb back up and give them a piece of my mind they were long gone. Probably some stupid rich man’s teenager thinking he could do whatever he wanted.

I wrung our the hem of my beloved sweatshirt, removing it to reveal the black halter crop top beneath. I angrily marched back into my house placing the sweater and leggings immediately in the wash. I changed into a pair of light jeans and white trainers. I walked out the front door to grab one of my cardigans I had left in the bronco, Oliver.

I regretted the instant I walked out the front door. I looked up to find Barnes parking himself in the garage, walking up to his mailbox, flitting his keys around the key ring between his fingers. He didn’t seem to notice me, to which I was glad. So I kept walking toward my vehicle. I opened the door, searching for the desired item while my feet were still latched to the cement driveway.

“C’mon where is it?” I said to myself in frustration. This day was only getting worse at this rate. I shit the door with a loud slam, moving toward the trunk; lifting it above my head. As soon as I opened the trunk I found what I was looking for.

“Aha!” I snatched it up from the floor, instantly putting it on, making sure to cuff the sleeves to where they were three quarter length. I shut the trunk, satisfied with my expedition. I looked back over to find my neighbor staring at me, eyebrows raised and mail in hand.

“Neighbor,” I said before walking back to the door. I went to turn the knob, but found myself unable to. I tried again, and again; each time growing more fervent.

This was not happening.

“Hey Neighbor,” I heard a male voice, his breath upon the back of my neck, causing chills to run up my spine. It took me back to a time I did not want to remember at a time like this. I instinctively elbowed the figure behind me, before whirling around to see the potential assailant.

“Whoa! Hey, it’s just me!” Bucky was doubled over, his arms clutching his stomach. Horror spread across my face.

“Oh my god! I’m sorry!”

“No it’s fine,” He wheezed.

“Don’t sneak up on people,” I said as I helped him stand upright. I looked at him, noticing that he nose was bloody.

“What happened?” I asked, my hands instinctively moving to check the cut on his forehead.

“Nothing,” he grabbed hold of my wrist with his right hand, his expression turning cold. It only made my blood run hot.

“That doesn’t look like nothing,” I snapped back.

“Well, will it make you feel better is I said that the other guy looks worse.”

“I don’t condone fighting,” I said to him.

“Funny coming from a girl who can really pack a punch.” He looked at my door, “You locked out?”

“It would appear so.”

“I take it that pepper spray can is in there?”

“Yes,” I eyed him carefully.

“I can unlock the door; but you have to promise not to spray me when I’m done.”

“I’m letting you break into my house.”

“Alright then.” He backed up a few steps, enough to no longer stand under the small pediment awning roof above the door. He jumped up, his hands gripping the gutter. I on the other hand was turning beat red due to I was having a front row to his exposed stomach, exposing not only his very obvious v-line, but his happy trail starting from his belly button and vanishing beneath his belt line.

A few moments later he was onto the roof, climbing through the open window of my bedroom. I was slightly alarmed by how easily that he could climb in and through my window. Not a minute later my front door opened, with my handsome neighbor was on the other side.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” he said as I walked in. I could only give him a mocking glare as I stepped into my home.

“Thank you, now kindly leave,”

“Wow, tough crowd.”

“I’m not much of the crowd you’re looking for, Mr. Barnes.” I folded my cardigan over my chest.

“Please call me Bucky, Mr.Barnes sounds like my father.”

“Or I just call you neighbor and you go back to your house.”

“You really want me outta here don’t you?”

“Nothing would make me happier.” I ushered him out my door.

“Wow, Wanda would love you. You should drop by The Witch’s Coven; tonight is ladies night you know.”

“So you’re interested in a girls night out situation? What you wanna go out for mani-pedi’s” I scoffd mockingly.

“N-no! Just, I think you two would get along is all! I’m not trying to-,” He stuttered over his words, a bright pink tint flush across his face.

“One thing you should know about women, my dear neighbor. Us women, we don’t like being told what to do.” I gave a self satisfying smirk as I shut the door on his agape expression.

I didn’t bother to check and see if he left, I simply went back upstairs and hid from the world under my bedsheets.

——————————————————————————

It had been a week since I had any encounter with my neighbor. All I had gotten were fleeting glances, whether in his shop as I came to drop of coffee with Thor, or if they were all congregated in his garage. The group was certainly more welcoming than I had initially thought. Nothing could have initially preppared me for how blaise they were in their nature.

Today, the mood was certainly different.

I came by with Thor, whom upon my meeting of the crew, they had specifically requested I bring them coffee from now on; carrying coffe’s as well as pastries in hand. Clouds grew over the sky; a harsh wind whipped through the main street, I hadn’t put on any coat this morning, mainly because I was running late for work.

“They say it’s gonna storm tonight.” Thor drew conversation as we entered the shop. It was strange, he was quite restrained in his tone.

“Really,” I asked, looking up at his towering form.

“I suggest that you stay inside tonight.” He said before we started handing out drinks to their respective owners. It seemed strange for him to give me warning, let alone speak of something ill will coming. He wasn’t much of a religious person; then again I don’t know much about these people.

“Morning, (Y/N)!” Steve greeted me, I immediately noticed the bandage upon his cheek, a slight red tint upon it.

“What happened there?”I asked as I handed him his drink.

“O-oh, this?” He jittered, “It’s nothing.” He chuckled with feigned certainty. Steve didn’t seem like someone who would lie, considering he seemed really bad at it. I’ll let it slide, just this once.

“Right,” I smiled at him; “You can just tell me if you fell down the stairs, you know.”

“It wouldn’t be the frist time.” Sam muttered as he sipped his beverage. Every one seemed to look on edge, it was beginning to become contagious on my account.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Barnes is in a mood.” Sam replied, a grimace marking his face.

“When isn’t he?” Natasha walked past, hugging me as she went to pick up her danish.

“Well, if Rumlow would shut his mouth we wouldn’t be in this shithole.”

“Shithole?” Scott shot up, as the initial owner of this place, of course he would take offense.

“Look, lets just drop it. The best we can do is just lay low and stay out of trouble. All we have to do tonight is keep Buck from doing anything stupid, and that’s what we’re gonna do.” Steve’s authorative voice shut everyone down.

“You guys know I’m still here right?” I asked, making all of them pale.

Just as Steve opened his mouth the door from the office slammed open. I almost dropped the last drink in hand it was so loud. It felt like a bomb going off, but it only hieghtened the tension to the whole shop. I watched as my neighbor marched through the shop, a bold black and purple bruise under his eye, his lip split, clealry dishevled. The bruise wasnt fresh, but it had to have happened either the night before or the penolument before then. The look in his eyes were a raging sea, ready to capsize any object in its way.

No one dared speak for the frist few minutes as he went about to working on the nearest project. I simply handed the blonde adonis his best friend’s beverage and left.

I was to close up in the evening, Edna and Thomas were going out of town for the weekend. Since they were so kind, (and wealthy), they gave me overtime and let me off for the weekend.

As I was sweeping the floor, the door opened. I looked up seeing the man from last week who was ogling my vehicle.

“Well, well, well,” This time he was accompanied by two of his rather large and very intimidating friends.

“If it isn’t the new girl; now why would you be working in a slum like this.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a slum, Local,” I replied, the grip on the broomstick hardening. In the distance thunder clashed in the skies above.

“Anywhere near the shitpile shop over there is a slum in my book.” He hiked his thumb and pointed directly at the auto shop I was previously in this morning.

“I haven’t had a problem with them.”

“Thats because you shouldn’t assoiciate with them, sweetheart,” He took a step closer to me; to which I promptly took three steps backward. His two friends roamed around the store, feigned interest in the books. They were clearly there to initmidate. I knew this play, I had experienced it before. I was dissapointed that I would be experiencing it again so soon.

“I dunno if you know anything about the female species, Local; but you don’t tell them what to do.” I stood defiantly.

“Well they should listen if they know what’s good for them.” He sneered. I tried to back away from him as he quickly approached me, but I was blocked in by the cake display case. In addition, he blocked my exit from one side with his arm. My grip upon the broomstick went bone white. I watched as he nodded his head, and his two bodygaurds went to the front door, locking it as they left. Alarm bells were going off in my head. This was not good. Not good at all.

“You see sweetheart, me and you new neighbor don’t really get along. And he seems to be a constant pain in my ass. But you, you can get close to him, can’t you? You’re his sweet, cute, little neighbor. So, I’ll be generous with you. You get close to him; and then you relay everything about him to me. If you do, I won’t let anything happen to you.” he smiled, it only made me quiver with fear.

“If you don’t. Well, I can’t say it won’t end all sunshine and rainbows.”

This whole scenario I was in was starting to become a broken record. I leave a town because of men like this; I run like a scared little child. I came here to start fresh. I shouldn’t be scared of this wannabe when I ahd already expirenced somethign far worse than the real thing.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“Are you done with the whole Godfather act?” I raised a brow. I swatted his hand off of the display, moving behind the counter, continuing with my cleaning.

“I don’t know if you have noticed, Mr.Local; but I’m not the type of person who takes orders from self entitled assholes who need human gaurd dogs to compensate for his micropenis.”

I gave him a glance, watching the sweat bead down his angered explression. I clearly hit a nail somewhere in that sentece.

“You’re asking me to basically commit espionage. And for your puny brain you may not know that is the criminal term for Spying on somebody. For your information, I will do no such thing. I am not about to compromise my morals for you, or anyone. So let me make myself as clear as I can. If you come down here to try to threaten me again, I will shove this broom up your ass. Now get out of my store, and do not come back.”

“You will regret this, honey.” He poitned atme angrily. I cackled in response.

“No I won’t. Now get out before I get my pepper spray.” I watched as he turned heel and left, making a point to slam the door on his way out. I walked over and flipped the open sign to ‘closed’, and triple checking that the locks were all botled shut. I lowered the shades and sat down at the nearest table. At that point only I slumped into the seat, a large exhale escaping my lips. I could feel tears ready to burst, I couldn’t believe this was hppening. I held my head in my hand atop the table, racking on how I ended up in this situation in the first place.

A sudden know at the door made me jump out of my skin. It was a soft rapping, the shadow clearly wasn’t the one whom had just left; but I didn’t wat to take any chances. I gripped the pepper spray in my apron.

“Hey neighbor, I just wanted to check and see if everything is alright?” Barnes’ voice made me relax, which in itself was odd. At the moment I couldnt care less. I walked up to the door, peering betwen the blinds, finding my neighbor on the other side; more bloody than I saw him this morning.

I quickly unlocked the door and swung it open.

“What happened?!” I aksed, just as the thunder rumbled, and the rain began to deluge.

“It’s nothing.” He grimaced.

“You look like you just got you ass handded to you; how is that nothing?”

A loud expensive looking suv whizzed by, its engine roaring extremely loud. Most like the muffler had been taken off as to why it was unusally loud.

“To be fair the other guy looks worse.” he shrugged.

“Where are you Barnes!” Mr. Local’s voice rang through the streets as the SUV made its way back up the main street. My neighbor paled as he stood drenched in the rain. I rolled my eyes, stepping aside to let him in the shop.

He dashed inside before the car drove past. I flipped off the car, knowing full well it was Rumlow. I closed the door and locked it again, all four of them.

“Why is it every time I see you; you somehow are always beat up?” I asked drying my hands on my apron.

“It’s a gift.” He chuckled, only to regret it by coughing violently.

“C’mon, I’ll give you a ride home.”

“You don’t need to do that.” He protested.

“Look, it’s not like I don’t know where you live.” I quickly rebutted; “Also, I assume that you probably saw that asshole and his cronies walk in a while ago otherwise you wouldn’t be over here in the first place. Which means you either decided to play vigilante and get your ass kicked or you were just in the wrong place and got your ass kicked.”

“Why is it that you think I am getting my ass kicked?” He cracked a charming smile.

“Have you looked in the mirror?”

“You trying to tell me I’m ugly?”

“You said it, not me.” I gave him a shit-eating grin in response to his deadpan face.

“You’re hilarious.” He said unamused.

“That’s why your buddies bring me around the shop isn’t it?” I hung up my apron, grabbing my purse and keys.

“Yeah well, maybe I’m not apart of that crowd.”

“You trying to use my words against me?” We walked out the back door, I hurriedly locked the back door. We dashed into the bronco, desperate not to get drenched further.

“Perhaps.” He heaved as he sat himself into the passenger seat. I tossed my purse into the back, sticking the keys into the ignition.

“Or is this your polite way of saying I’m not your type?” I backed out of the small lot and onto the road, quickly sticking the gearshift into drive and roaming down the road out of town.

“You said it not me?” He parroted me with a smile. I rolled my eyes, but could not withhold the smile growing upon my own lips.

The putter pattern of the rain felt like it was the sound of a power washer by the silence between us. The only foreign sound was passing vehicles, for my radio had long since been broken.

“This thing work?” My passenger began to fiddle with the said device.

“Nah, gave out after I passed through Kansas.” I flinched as the thunder shook the earth.

“You should drop this off by the shop tomorrow, I’m sure we got a spare lying around somewhere.” He said, turning his head to look out the window. His statement almost made me swerve.

“Why would I do that?” I asked him, gaining control over my composure, thankful that he didn’t catch the slip.

“Cause it’s neighborly,” he shrugged, supporting his chin on his hand.

“Is that you’re excuse for everything?”

“Nah,” he cracked a wide grin; “just you.”

It made my heart lurch. I hated how he could do that so easily. Time I made him feel the same.

“So, neighbor;” I started, “wanna tell me why Steve had a bandage on his face this morning?”

“He ran into a pole.”

“He told me he fell down the stairs,” I replied quickly, having his tense reaction. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he gnawed on his plump bottom lip.

“Fine, you caught us. We run a fight club. But now that I just broke the first rule; I’m gonna have to kill you over it.” He said with a serious expression.

“You broke a rule, that’ll cost you honey....”

“P-please, stop,”

In a gut reaction I slammed on the brakes; making his head hit my dashboard. Luckily we were on our street, so there was no immediate traffic to either make the situation worse, or honk at me till kingdom come.

I held onto the steering wheel with a vice grip. My breathing quickened, becoming more shallow. I could feel my thoughts racing a mile a minute, with the wrong kind of memories spewing back and forth.

“Hey! Hey! I was kidding!!” Barnes’ voice was slowly becoming muffled. A far more foul voice was echoing in my head.

It wasn’t until I felt a soft touch upon my hand I was drawn out of my train of thought. I looked over to see the extremely concerned face of my neighbor. My handsome neighbor.

“I was kidding; I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, (Y/N),” he said with wide eyes. Those blue eyes, one I was so afraid of; were nothing but soft when he locked his gaze with mine.

“I won’t do it again,” the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. I felt his thumb rub the back of my hand. I took a deep breath.

“Look, I’ll just go. I know I took it too far, goodnight (Y/N),” he opened the door and exited the vehicle in the pouring rain.

“It’s not your fault,” I spoke before he could close the door.

“What?”

“It’s not your fault.” I looked up at him, giving a sad smile; “I’m just a little, tense, is all.”

“Well, I hope you won’t have to feel tense around me. You know where to find me if you ever wanna talk about it. Goodnight (Y/N), thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime, Neighbor.”

“It’s Bucky,” he corrected with a kind smile.

“Right, Bucky.” I nodded in approval, before chuckling.

“What?” He scoffed.

“Sounds like a sexual euphemism.” I snorted, watching as his face turned beat red.

“It’s definitely not that!!” I burst out laughing at his childish reaction. He slammed the door and marched into his house.

“Hey! You should come over tomorrow!” He hollered across the street. I rolled my eyes, a wide smile on my lips as I walked through my front door.

[kbuckner-csuchico]

Image Essay

Source: https://www.npr.org/2011/05/23/136579580/california-is-ordered-to-cut-its-prison-population

Overcrowding in prisons and jail has been a rampant issue in the United States since the early 70s. It is inhumane that five inmates are being held in a holding cell no different in size or appearance from a dog cage. Human beings should not be held in such close quarters when many simply are being held before they have even been convicted of a crime. Whatever happened to the concept of innocent until proven guilty? The vast majority of inmates in U.S jails are nonviolent and do not pose a threat to society, so why are they being held in such crowded conditions? It is unnecessary that the justice system in the United States has resorted to mass incarceration.

Source: https://nypost.com/2016/08/20/the-true-story-of-the-attica-prison-riot/

The Attica Prison Riot was the second most deadly prison riot/uprising in United States history and took place in Attica, New York in 1971. Prisoners were pushed to the edge by prison officials due to poor living conditions and their lack of political rights which resulted in rebelling against prison guards and staff. Over 1,200 prisoners took control of the prison for four days and forty-two staff members were taken as hostages. Police officers eventually received orders to take back the prison rather than continuing negotiations and, in the end, thirty-three inmates and ten staff were dead. New York laws have since been amended to prevent a repeat of such events, but the treatment of inmates is still far from ideal.

Source: https://www.kenpiorkowski.com/Old-Main-Penitentiary/

At first glance, this photo may not appear as much. However, this photo entails more of an action than an example. This is the floor of cell block 4 in the New Mexico Penitentiary following the two-day riot and insurrection enacted by prisoners in 1980. These marks on the ground were caused by the beheading of an inmate during the riot. Thirty-three inmates were killed and over two hundred injured. The prison riot is the most horrific and brutal that has ever taken place in the United States. This riot was again caused by poor conditions and overcrowding as seen in the Attica prison riot as well.

Source: https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/11/us/arpaio-tent-city-jail.html

In Arizona, Maricopa County had what was referred to as a "tent city" as a jail. The "jail" stood for over twenty years as punishment to "illegal aliens" in which they were exposed to any and all elements, including scorching heat waves every year reaching up to one hundred and thirty degrees. Inmates were forced to wear pink undergarments in an attempt to demean and belittle them. The concentration camp was originally used as a temporary overflow due to overcrowding, but cruel and abusive Sheriff Arpaio elected to keep it going and house up to two thousand inmates at a time. The camp was only closed in 2017 after a mass uproar and Sheriff Arpaio's absence.

Source: https://www.coe.int/en/web/commissioner/-/covid-19-pandemic-urgent-steps-are-needed-to-protect-the-rights-of-prisoners-in-europe

Ever since COVID started, prisons have been a topic of discussion. In this photo you can see cramped conditions with no protection offered. Inmates are forced to hold blankets and towels over their faces to prevent illness. However, instead of improving conditions for inmates, many were released instead of addressing the issue at the source.

Source: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/apr/10/us-prisons-coronavirus-uprising-riot

It is easy to see the pain and suffering in this photo. Inmates in the United States prison system continue to suffer regardless of COVID. Inmates basic needs are not being met and COVID only amplified the effects it has on their mental and physical wellbeing. It is not right that human beings are being subjected to horrors such as risk of illness with no care for their wellbeing.

Source: Source: https://www.businessinsider.com/prison-cells-prisoners-around-the-world-2018-3#haitis-civil-prison-in-the-coastal-town-of-arcahaie-is-notoriously-overcrowded-in-2016-174-inmates-escaped-during-a-riot-that-left-one-guard-dead-and-others-injured-5

In any given prison cell, there can be upwards of four people in one cramped cell. Four or more men in one cell with one restroom to share is cruel and inhumane. Prisons are more based off of punishment rather an rehabilitation and it clearly shows in their living quarters. Not even to mention these inmates are only being released from their cells to either eat or their hour of rec time outside. How can someone live in a concrete box for twenty-three hours a day?

Source: https://www.prisonpolicy.org/reports/pie2020.html

As this graph shows, many of the inmates in jails have not even been convicted of any crime. Why should people be imprisoned if they have not even been convicted of a crime? What ever happened to being innocent until proven guilty? The jail and prison system in the United States is clearly a broken system considering that many people have not even been proven to have committed a crime, let alone a threat to the outside community. People are not animals to be left in a cage to die but deserve to be rehabilitated so they can be contributing members of society.

Source: https://www.hrw.org/report/2015/05/12/callous-and-cruel/use-force-against-inmates-mental-disabilities-us-jails-and#

This photo isn't the best quality, but it still speaks numbers. Mental illness has always been an issue in the prisons and jails in this country, and mental illness is not being taken seriously. This man has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and yet he is being treated as if he is a murderer. He is clearly strapped down and cannot move, so what is the need for the pepper spray? Are five grown men incapable of de-escalating a situation with a person in mental crisis? At the end of the day, the police should not be in charge of situations that involve mentally unwell people unless they have received the proper training necessary.

Source: http://icarusfilms.com/if-brut

Again, this photo is not the best quality, but the point is still made. Two officers pulled their weapons on minors in a facility aimed at bettering the lives of youth on the wrong path. However, it is not possible for minors to better themselves in instances of police brutality. The young man is clearly on the ground with his hand above his head in a facility full of police, so why feel the need to pull two guns on him? No child should be threatened by those who are supposed to protect them in a vulnerable situation.

[ladystylestores]

Atlanta mayor announces series of police reforms: Live updates | News

The United Nations’s top human rights body agreed to a request from African countries to urgently debate racism and police brutality on Wednesday following unrest in the US and beyond over George Floyd’s death.

The killing of Rayshard Brooks by Atlanta police on June 13 reignited a push for protest in the city. Atlanta initially saw heavy protests after the death of George Floyd, prompting calls from public officials and celebrities for peaceful demonstrations. 

Floyd, a Black man, died on May 25 after a policeman knelt on his neck for nearly nine minutes. His death sparked calls across the US for policing reforms and triggered global protests.

Here are the latest updates:

Tuesday, June 16

05:25 GMT – New York police officers sickened after drinking tainted milkshake

At least three police officers from New York fell ill and were hospitalised after dining at a popular restaurant chain in Lower Mahnattan, according to a news report. 

The three officers reportedly found substance, “believed to be some sort of cleaning solution or disinfectant” mixed in their milkshake drink, NBC News reported. 

“When New York City police officers cannot even take (a) meal without coming under attack, it is clear the environment in which we work has deteriorated to a critical level,” a statement from a police union said.

04:45 GMT – Black Lives Matter banner removed from US embassy in S Korea 

A man walks near a giant Black Lives Matter and a Gay Pride banner at the US Embassy in Seoul on Sunday [Lee Jin-man/AP]

A large Black Lives Matter banner has been removed from the US Embassy building in South Korea’s capital three days after it was raised there in solidarity with protesters back home.

The banner was put up Saturday, with Ambassador Harry Harris tweeting that his embassy “stands in solidarity with fellow Americans grieving and peacefully protesting to demand positive change.”

But the banner was removed Monday and another banner commemorating the Korean War was on display on Tuesday.

The embassy said the banner’s removal was meant to avoid any misperception that it aimed to encourage donations for certain unspecified organisations.

Harris “wanted to highlight the enduring American values of racial equality, freedom of speech, and the right to peacefully protest,” the US Embassy said in a statement.

“However, the Ambassador’s intent was not to support or encourage donations to any specific organisation. To avoid the misperception that American taxpayer dollars were spent to benefit such organisations, he directed that the banner be removed.”

03:28 GMT – Australia to probe arrest of Aboriginal man

An Aboriginal man, whose violent arrest by South Australian Police, was caught on video, has been released from custody with all charges dropped, reports said, as police launched an investigation on the incident.

Henry Noel, 28, has been released from the Port Adelaide Police Station, after a social media video appeared to show an officer striking him several times during an arrest on Monday night. 

A person familiar with the case told NITV that Noel had “really bad injuries to his face, his arms, his legs.”

#Breaking – South Australian police launch investigation following a social media video appearing to show an officer striking an Aboriginal man several times during an arrest last night @SBSNews pic.twitter.com/PlLxIwt4Tb

— Jarni Blakkarly (@JarniBlakkarly) June 16, 2020

03:05 GMT – Trump to sign order creating police database

A senior administration official says an executive order that President Donald Trump is expected to sign on Tuesday would set up a database for tracking police officers who have complaints about excessive use of force in their records.

The official says the administration wants to keep officers with complaints in their record from moving from one police department to the next.

The president’s executive order comes as lawmakers work quickly in response to outrage over the death of George Floyd. Senate Republicans are also poised to unveil an extensive package of policing changes.

02:45 GMT – New York City to disband plainclothes anti-crime units

New York City’s police department is disbanding the type of plainclothes anti-crime units that were involved in the 2014 death of Eric Garner and have long been criticized for aggressive tactics, Commissioner Dermot Shea announced.

The NYPD’s anti-crime units, which focused primarily on seizing illegal guns, were responsible for a disproportionate number of shootings and complaints, Shea told reporters after meeting with top deputies to discuss the move.

Garner died when an officer enforcing a ban on the sale of loose cigarettes used a chokehold to wrestle him to the ground.

About 600 officers working in the unit will be given new assignments.

02:21 GMT – Seattle City Council votes to bar tear gas, pepper spray

The Seattle City Council has voted unanimously to bar police from using tear gas, pepper spray and several other crowd control devices after officers repeatedly used them on mostly peaceful demonstrators protesting racism and police brutality.

The 9-0 vote came amid frustration with the Seattle Police Department, which used tear gas to disperse protesters in the city’s densest neighborhood, Capitol Hill, just days after Mayor Jenny Durkan and Chief Carmen Best promised not to.

A federal judge on Friday issued a temporary order banning Seattle police from using tear gas, pepper spray, foam-tipped projectiles or other force against protesters, finding that the department had used less-lethal weapons “disproportionately and without provocation,” chilling free speech in the process.

01:54 GMT – Feds to review cases into hanging deaths of 2 Black men

Federal authorities will review local investigations into the hanging deaths of two Black men in southern California to determine whether federal law was violated, The Associated Press news agency reported quoting officials.

Local authorities have said there is no evidence of foul play in the deaths of Robert Fuller in Palmdale and Malcolm Harsch in Victorville and early indications point both to suicide, but sheriffs have pledged to continue to investigate the cases.

The announcement follows weekend protests, which were prompted by the initial determination of suicide as the likely cause of death for Fuller.

People who participated in a town hall hosted by Los Angeles County Sheriff Alex Villanueva on Monday also voiced concerns that Fuller and Harsch may have been lynched. The callers denounced what they described as a rush to judgment and urged investigators to look into the possibility that hate crimes were committed.

01:14 GMT – Family of Rayshard Brooks demands criminal justice reform

Pleading through tears Monday, the family of a Black man killed by Atlanta police outside a drive-thru demanded changes in the criminal justice system and called on protesters to refrain from violence amid heightened tensions across the US three weeks after George Floyd’s death in Minneapolis.

An autopsy found that 27-year-old Rayshard Brooks was shot twice in the back late Friday by a white officer who was trying to arrest him at a fast-food restaurant for being intoxicated behind the wheel of his car. Brooks tried to flee after wrestling with officers and grabbing a stun gun from one of them.

“Not only are we hurt, we are angry,” said Chassidy Evans, Brooks’ niece. “When does it stop? We’re not only pleading for justice. We’re pleading for change.”

The Brooks family and their attorneys spoke to the media on Monday days after Rayshard Brooks was shot and killed by police at a Wendy’s restaurant parking lot in Atlanta [Ron Harris/AP]

Monday, June 15

20:50 GMT – Second man charged in death of retired St Louis police captain

A second man has been charged with murder in the fatal shooting of retired St Louis police Captain David Dorn during a pawn shop break-in that followed a night of violent protests.

Dorn’s death on June 2 came on a violent night in St Louis, where four officers were shot, officers were pelted with rocks and fireworks, and dozens of businesses were damaged.

A man named Mark Jackson was charged with second-degree murder, robbery, burglary, stealing and three counts of armed criminal action.

Stephan Cannon was earlier charged with first-degree murder, robbery and other crimes. Both men are jailed without bond. 

20:45 GMT – Activists create petition calling for justice for Rayshard Brooks

Activists created an online petition demanding justice for Rayshard Brooks. The petition has gathered over 52,000 signatures. 

20:00 GMT – Atlanta mayor announces series of police reforms

Atlanta Mayor Keisha Bottoms announced immediate reforms within the police department, including orders requiring police officers to de-escalate situations and imposing a duty to intervene when officers see another officer using excessive force.

Bottoms said that when she saw the death of Rayshard Brooks, she said she could not wait for an advisory council to come up with recommendations to reform the police.

“It was clear that we do not have another day, another minute, another hour, to waste,” she said.

She said the police must find a better way to handle confrontations, and said she is heartbroken over Brooks’ death.

“It pissed me off, it makes me sad, it makes me frustrated, and there’s nothing I can say that will change what happened Friday.”

19:39 GMT – New Jersey police ordered to release names of disciplined officers

New Jersey Attorney General Gurbir S Grewal issued an order requiring all law enforcement agencies in the state to begin publicly listing officers who commit serious disciplinary violations. 

The order mandates “every state, county, and local law enforcement agency in New Jersey” to annually publish a list of officers “who were fired, demoted, or suspended for more than five days due to a disciplinary violation, with the first list to be published no later than December 31, 2020”, according to a release issued the attorney general’s office. 

“Today, we end the practice of protecting the few to the detriment of the many. Today, we recommit ourselves to building a culture of transparency and accountability in law enforcement”, Grewal said in the release.

The order is meant to build public trust, according to Colonel Patrick J Callahan, superintendent of the New Jersey State Police. 

“By releasing the names of State Troopers who committed serious disciplinary violations, we are continuing the long, hard work of earning and maintaining the trust of the communities we serve”, Callahan said. 

17:28 GMT – Demonstration reaches Atlanta capital building, mayor says use of force needs review

The “March on Georgia”, organised by the state’s NAACP, reached the capital building in Atlanta on Monday. Demonstrators delivered a list of demands to the state legislature. 

These demands included ending Citizen’s Arrest and Stand Your Ground laws, among other measures regarding voter disenfranchisement, which are “necessary to end systemic racism in the criminal justice system and voter suppression in Georgia”, the organisation said in a release. 

VIDEO: The #MarchOnGeorgia has arrived at the Georgia State Capitol Building. #Atlanta #BlackLivesMatter #ATL #AtlantaProtest #Protests #gapol @FOX5Atlanta @Georgia_NAACP pic.twitter.com/FrR06GupMn

— Billy Heath III (@BillyHeathFOX5) June 15, 2020

The march came as Atlanta Mayor Keisha Bottoms she would issue a series of administrative orders to accelerate a review of policing in the wake of the police shooting of Rayshard Brooks.

Bottoms, speaking at a city council meeting, said it was “abundantly clear” there was a “comprehensive need” to take a look at the police department’s use of force and the training of police officers.

16:08 GMT – Black Lives Matter banner in Seoul removed after Trump complaints 

A large “Black Lives Matter” banner draped on the outside of the US embassy in Seoul was removed on Monday after President Donald Trump expressed his displeasure about it, two people familiar with the matter told the Reuters News Agency.

The banner was hung on the front of the mission building on Saturday as the embassy tweeted a message in support of the anti-racism campaign across the US and worldwide in response to the killing last month of Floyd.

The banner was seen as a rare show of open support for the Black Lives Matter movement by a Trump appointee, Ambassador Harry Harris.

Embassy spokesman William Coleman reiterated that Harris’s reason for putting it up was “to communicate a message of solidarity with Americans concerned with racism”.

Bloomberg News reported earlier that both Trump and US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo were displeased about the banner.

The U.S. Embassy stands in solidarity with fellow Americans grieving and peacefully protesting to demand positive change. Our #BlackLivesMatter banner shows our support for the fight against racial injustice and police brutality as we strive to be a more inclusive & just society. pic.twitter.com/Y4Thr2MRdw

— U.S. Embassy Seoul (@USEmbassySeoul) June 13, 2020

15:48 GMT – Family of Rayshard Brooks calls for reforms, ‘justice’ 

During a news conference on the killing of Rayshard Brooks, his family called for “drastic change” in the Atlanta Police Department. 

“The trust that we have with the police force is broken,” Tiara Brooks, Rayshard’s cousin, said at the news conference. 

“True justice will never prevail” because Rayshard will not come back, Tiara said, calling for demonstrations to continue in order to make sure another case like his will not occur. 

Lawyer L Chris Stewart, who is representing the Brooks family, questioned whether there was an acceptable definition of justice. He presented what he said were photos of vehicles that had been shot by police during the fatal incident. “It should never have happened,” Stewart said.

A man and two children mourn at the site of a Wendy’s restaurant where Rayshard Brooks, 27, was shot and killed by police in a struggle following a field sobriety test [Dustin Chambers/Getty Images/AFP]

Rayshard’s widow, Tomika Miller, said she wanted to thank everyone for their protests and support. 

Miller called on protests to remain peaceful, as the family wants to “keep his name positive and great”. 

The news conference ended suddenly as one of Brooks’s cousins broke down at the mention of his funeral. The man departed in tears, saying: “I want y’all to know, you took my cousin from me … you took the wrong person,” presumably speaking to the Atlanta police.

14:03 GMT – Supreme Court will not consider ‘qualified immunity’ case 

The US Supreme Court declined to hear a number of cases involving a legal defence called qualified immunity that can be used to shield government officials from lawsuits including police officers accused of excessive force.

The justices rejecting appeals in cases that had been pending before the court for months involving qualified immunity including a dispute over whether officers in Tennessee can be sued for using a dog on a man who says he had surrendered.

The decision to reject the cases comes as a national spotlight is once again trained on the police’s use of force after the death of George Floyd, a Black man in Minneapolis who died after a white police officer knelt on his neck for nearly nine minutes. Democrats and Republicans in Washington have been pulling together their own versions of police reform legislation.

12:45 – Alabama to place removed Confederate statue in a museum 

A Confederate statue removed from Alabama’s port city earlier this month has been relocated to a museum, the city’s mayor said.

The History Museum of Mobile has received the bronze likeness of Admiral Raphael Semmes, which stood in the middle of a downtown street near the Mobile waterfront for 120 years until June 5, and “will develop a plan to protect, preserve and display” the statue and “place it into the appropriate historic context”, the city’s mayor, Sandy Stimpson, said on Sunday in multiple Twitter posts.

The decision involved input from city council members and “involved conversations with the Alabama Attorney General’s Office”, Stimpson said on Twitter.

Another Confederate monument has been taken down: Mobile, Alabama removed the statue of a Confederate admiral from its pedestal last night. https://t.co/Au0eaIEu8W pic.twitter.com/NgDaoMNb84

— John Bowles (@JPBowles) June 5, 2020

Attorney General Steve Marshall had sent a letter to the mayor after the statue’s removal saying the city could be subject to a $25,000 fine for permanently moving the statue, an action that would violate a state law protecting monuments more than 40 years old, AL.com reported.

The statue was dedicated in 1900, the year before Alabama ratified a Constitution that established white supremacy in the state by essentially disenfranchising Black people and poor white people.

12:35 GMT – British PM praises Black Lives Matter demonstrator who carried suspected far-right protester from danger

The instincts of the Black Lives Matter protester who emerged from chaotic scenes in London carrying an injured white man, suspected of being a far-right demonstrator, during scuffles with counterprotesters on Saturday represented the best of us, Prime Minister Boris Johnson’s spokesman said.

Patrick Hutchinson has been hailed a hero for carrying the injured man over his shoulder, an image that has gone viral on social media after it was taken by a Reuters photographer.

“Patrick Hutchinson’s instincts at that moment represent the best of us,” the spokesman told reporters.

10:40 GMT – Black Americans disproportionately die in police Taser confrontations: Reuters 

As police confront protesters across the US, they are turning to rubber bullets, pepper spray, tear gas and other weapons meant to minimise deaths.

But some are using a weapon that has the potential to kill: The Taser. When those encounters have turned fatal, Black people make up a disproportionate share of those who die, according to a Reuters analysis.

‘RIP Rayshard’ is spray-painted on a sign as flames engulf a Wendy’s restaurant where Rayshard Brooks was shot and killed by police on Friday evening following a struggle in the restaurant’s drive-through line [Brynn Anderson/AP Photo]

Reuters documented 1,081 cases through the end of 2018 in which people died after being shocked by police with a Taser. At least 32 percent of those who died were Black, and at least 29 percent were white. African Americans make up 14 percent of the US population, and non-Hispanic whites 60 percent

09:22 GMT – UN rights council agrees to debate on racism, police violence

The United Nations’s top human rights body will hold an urgent debate on allegations of “systemic racism, police brutality and violence against peaceful protests” in the US on Wednesday, a statement said.

The decision by the UN Human Rights Co un cil followed a request last week by Burkina Faso on behalf of African countries, it said in a statement on Monday. 

“The death of George Floyd is unfortunately not an isolated incident,” the letter said. 

#HRC43 has opened & starts w/ GD on item 5. It was decided that an urgent debate on the current racially inspired #HumanRights violations, systematic #racism, #PoliceBrutality & violence against peaceful protests to take place Wednesday, 17 June at 3 p.m. https://t.co/wUEEG9n2Bg pic.twitter.com/8SYNTgRThD

— HRC SECRETARIAT (@UN_HRC) June 15, 2020

Catch up on previous updates here.

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[hookedonapirate]

Tangled Up In Blue

Chapter 22/?

Summary: Fear for her unborn child, a bruised and broken Emma Swan is determined to escape an abusive marriage. After she drives a long way from home to a small town in Maine, she doesn’t think her life could get more complicated… that is until she ends up falling for her OBGYN, a blue-eyed British man who’s shielded his heart from love long ago. But he may be just what she needs to begin her healing process and start a new life for her child. If only nothing gets in the way.

Notes: Here we go. I must warn you that this chapter will not be all unicorns and rainbows! In fact you will probably hate me and think I’m evil at the end of the chapter, but I only ended it where I did because I had to switch to Killian’s POV. Thank you for putting up with me! You’re all amazing! Thank you @rouhn​ for beta reading and for your encouragement and support! 

Okay, it’s baby time!

*TRIGGER WARNING* Pregnancy complications and depictions of physical and verbal abuse/domestic violence towards a pregnant woman.

Rated: M

Catch Up: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Deleted Scenes: 1 2

Also available on: AO3 FF.N

Emma was smiling, gushing, feeling as though she were on a cloud when she stood outside the restaurant. It seemed like for the first time in a while, she hadn’t a dash of worry about Neal or any other thing that would put a dark cloud over her evening with Killian. They talked about the future and she was actually seeing a future. One full of hope and love and happiness. With Killian and their family.

When he walked away, she never expected the hand that gripped her mouth, an arm snaking around her belly so tightly she couldn’t breath.

She was pulled away barely able to comprehend what was happening. She had no clue. She tried to fight against it but the grasp on her became tighter and she had to force her feet to move faster to keep up with the pace.

Then she heard the rash words in her ear and that’s when she realized who it was and fear had never gripped her more tightly than it did in that moment. The voice was cruel and taunting; the same voice that haunted her darkest nightmares.

“You thought you could just leave me and start a new life huh? You thought you could take my son from me and tear our family apart and go around fucking someone else and get away with it?!”

When they reached a dark alley and Emma saw her yellow bug through the thin, night air, she thought this was it. She thought that she failed. All of her dreams, the future she envisioned with Killian and her son were disappearing as she was being dragged through the alley, her captor showing no mercy. The grip on her stomach was so tight she was sure that she would lose her baby. Tears were bursting from her eyes as she felt a harsh shove and her hands sprang out to keep herself from colliding into the car. She still had a death grip on her purse as she gasped for air, trying to get her breath.

“Answer me, God dammit!” he demanded, even though he was still covering her mouth.

Then she felt a violent tug on her hair, her head being pulled back and she cried out in pain, her voice muffled, so he removed it, gripping her arm so tightly she knew she would have bruises even through her jacket. “Please! Neal don’t do this!”

She wasn’t sure exactly what he had in mind, but whatever it was, she knew it wasn’t anything good. He yanked on her hair so hard, she thought he had pulled the strands out of her head. She felt his mouth against her earlobe and her entire body went stiff, goosebumps crawling over her skin.

“I let you off easy, Em, so I wouldn’t do anything I would regret and hurt my baby trying to punish you for what you’ve done, but now it’s time to go home. And after you have my baby, you will be lucky if you ever see him again!”

Emma cried out, wincing from the pain of the aggressive hold he had on her hair and right arm. His body was pressed against her back, anchoring her into the car.

She lowered her hands just above her belly and with the most subtle of moments, she unzipped the small clutch in her hand, ever so slightly slipping her left hand inside and grabbing her pepper spray. He whispered all of the things he was going to do to her when they got home and after she had the baby. All the ways he would punish her.

Pulling her hand from the purse, she was being shoved over as Neal released the grasp on her arm and opened the passenger door. “Get in the fucking car you stupid whore!” He shoved her towards it and she tripped over her feet but was able to grab onto the door with her free hand, holding herself up.

Neal loosened the grip on her hair for two seconds and even with her hand shaking, she seized the opportunity. She ducked her head as though she were about to get in the vehicle, completely escaping his hold in the process, but then she turned around, willing her fingers to function properly and she sprayed him directly in the eyes.

He screamed out, covering his eyes with both hands and started falling to his knees and onto the pavement. Emma got away as quickly as her pregnant belly would allow.

She feared that Killian had left, looking for her or maybe she just abandoned her altogether, but all of her fears quickly subsided as soon as she saw Killian running towards her.

Of course he would never abandon her. She felt like an idiot doubting him for one second and she called out his name, never so relieved in her life as she rushed into his protective arms.

When they got in his car, he helped slide her jacket down her arms to examine the damage, her skin marred with red marks.

The baby was pressing on her bladder when they were on the road again and she had to use the bathroom. She felt helpless having Killian escort her, but he was too wrecked with worry to have it any other way.

Emma sat in the car while he pumped gas. She was still in a state of panic, tears burning her cheeks as she held her belly. She felt safe with Killian but it was hard to digest the fact that if not for the pepper spray, she would probably be on the road in her old yellow bug, on her way back to Tallahassee.

Emma’s body was still shaking at the thought when she felt a pool of water soaking her underwear. She was worried that she accidentally peed herself without noticing even though she just went. Opening the door, she used the door handle as an anchor and as soon as she managed to get out of her seat, she felt the gush of water escape between her legs and onto the pavement.

“Killian…”

He turned to look at her, seeing the water at her feet.

“I think my water broke.”

He was by her side in an instant, his arms around her to hold her up. “I’d say so, love. Are you in any pain?”

She shook her head. “Will my baby be alright?”

“Aye, love. You may be still be having contractions, they’re just not noticeable yet. If you’re still not in labor by the time we get to the hospital, it may have to be induced.” She nodded in understanding as he released her, taking off his jacket.

There was a small puddle of water where she had sat on the leather seat and he used some paper towel from the dispenser next to the gas pump to dry the seat off and he laid his suit jacket over top of it so she would be more comfortable. “Killian, I don’t want to ruin your jacket. I’ve already ruined your seat.”

“I’m worried about neither. It’s spilled milk in comparison love. Just spilled milk. I only care about getting you to the hospital as safely as possible.” Killian took her hand and helped her into the seat. He leaned in, gently placing his hands on her belly to soothe her as he left a few soft kisses on her lips.

When he pulled away, there was a look of concern falling over his features.

“What is it?”

“I was just thinking that before we get to the hospital, you should call the Sheriff and tell him what happened. That way he can be on the lookout for Neal in case he decides to show up there.”

Emma swallowed thickly. She didn’t want to think about it, let alone have to explain it, but she knew Killian was right.

Besides, not going to the police when she should have is why she’s still in this mess.

Killian shut the door and went around to the passenger side as she called the Sheriff. It was difficult to get the words out at first but August encouraged her, asking for more details as she explained what happened; how Neal had grabbed her and threatened to take her baby away from her after the delivery and how he tried to force her inside his car.

“What did he say, love?” Killian inquired when she ended the call.

“August said that at this point Neal didn’t need the protection order. He would be arrested on the spot if he so much as stepped foot in the hospital.”

“That’s good to know, right?”

Emma nodded, but for some reason she still didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“Everything will be okay, love, I promise. Right now, I just want you to focus on having that baby, got it sweetness?”

“Got it.” She managed a small smile as he stroked her hair. “I love you so much,” she breathed. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I know the feeling. I love you too… very much,” he whispered and lifted her hand to his lips, sweetly kissing her fingers. “Now let’s get you and the little lad to the hospital so you can hold him.”

A broad grin took over her lips before she could even try to stop it. “Okay.”

Killian buckled up and started pulling out of the station as Emma dialed Dr. Tink to let her know that her water broke and that she was about thirty minutes away from the Storybrooke hospital.

Next she called David and Mary Margaret, putting them on speakerphone.

“How is your date going?” Mary Margaret asked curiously, her tone bright and cheerful.

“Well, it was great…” Emma replied, holding the phone in between her and Killian, contemplating whether she should tell her friend what happened or not, but she figured she would have to eventually. “Killian took me to a French restaurant and we had a nice, relaxing time… until Neal showed up,” Emma added, her tone growing solemn.

“What?!” Mary Margaret squealed through the phone.

“When we walked out of the restaurant, Killian went to get the car and Neal showed up and grabbed me…” her voice became shaky as she continued “…but I was able to get away.”

“Are you okay?” her friend asked, sounding wrecked with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really.”

Mary Margaret expelled a sigh of relief. “That’s good to know.”

“Now Killian and I are on our way to the hospital…”

“But I thought you said you were alright?”

“Yeah, I am… but my water just broke,” Emma explained, bracing herself for the response she knew was coming.

“Your what?! It’s only 38 Weeks! Are you alright?! Is the baby alright?!”

Killian chuckled, hearing the slew of questions over the phone.

“I’m fine,” Emma assured her. “I’m just not in labor yet.”

“The baby will also be fine,” Killian added. “He’s just ready to come out and meet his mum,” he said, winking at Emma. “He’s ready to be pampered and smothered in sweet kisses.”

Emma couldn’t stop the smile that threatened her lips, looking forward to finally meeting her son and holding him in her arms.

“David, Emma’s on her way to the hospital to have the baby!” Mary Margaret shrieked.

“She’s what?!” they heard David shout back, his response followed by a gale of cheers and excitement from the Nolan couple.

Emma laughed. “I think they’re more enthusiastic than we are.”

Killian looked at her flashing a smirk. “I would have to disagree. We just hide it better than they do, that’s all.”

“Hey we heard that!” Mary Margaret laughed gleefully. “We just can’t wait to meet the little guy.”

“That’s right,” David added with a chuckle. “We’ll meet you at the hospital. Do you need anything?”

“Just all of my favorite people,” Emma assured him.

“Do you have your bag?”

“Yeah, the bag’s in the trunk. We brought it just in case. Is James with you?”

“No, he’s at work, but I’ll make sure he’s there too. You just get there safely,” David told her.

“Okay, I’ll see you there.”

“Bye, Emma. Can’t wait to meet the baby!” Mary Margaret chirped.

Emma was smiling when she ended the call, but it faded a bit when she looked at Killian and saw an uncertain expression on his face.

“You okay?”

“Of course, love,” he replied with a reassuring grin as his hand reached over to stroke her belly in soothing circles. “I should be asking you that. Feeling any pain yet?”

Emma shook her head. “Not yet.” She was bracing herself though. Talking to her friends and having her boyfriend at her side kept her at ease.

It didn’t really hit Emma that this was all happening until they were fifteen minutes away from the hospital. She felt crippling pain grip the inside of her stomach. It was similar to when she had Braxton Hicks, only this time it was much stronger. She cried out, her hands immediately clinging to her belly.

Killian was cool and collected as he glanced at his watch and took her other hand in his, threading their fingers together. “That’s one contraction. You’re okay, love. We’re almost there.”

Emma nodded and took a deep breath, but she started to feel the fear building inside of her. She’d endured a lot of pain in her life, but she wasn’t really sure she was ready for this. “Killian, I’m scared,” she whispered, tightening the grip on his hand.

“I know you are,” he cooed softly, pressing her fingers to his lips and kissing them gently. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ll be by your side every step of the way.” He offered a warm smile before looking ahead to the road again.

When she felt her next contraction, emitting a hiss and digging her nails into his forearm, he checked his watch again. “Seven minutes apart, love.”

The next twinge of pain was even stronger and happened when they arrived at the hospital.

“Four minutes.”

Killian got out and ran around to her side, helping her out. Mary Margaret and David beat them there and were waiting outside the hospital, the brunette ready with a wheelchair. Emma immediately sank into it, wincing in pain.

“I’ll park the car,” David offered.

“Thanks, mate.” Killian gave him the keys and grabbed Emma’s bag from the trunk. Mary Margaret took it from him so he could take over the wheelchair.

Emma was screaming out and gripping the arms of the chair, her knuckles turning white as the searing pain shot through her stomach when he rolled her through the doors.

The hospital staff greeted Killian as he approached the desk to check her in, informing them of her progression; they knew that Killian was friends with Emma and the Nolans so they didn’t even question his presence there.

She was then taken to a room in the maternity ward and helped into a gown. Dr. Tink was there shortly after, checking her blood pressure and monitoring the baby with a fetal monitor, telling her it would be a long while before she would have to start pushing.

The whole time, Emma was wishing that Killian would have told Dr. Tink about their relationship beforehand. The blonde doctor was eventually going to find out.

Emma settled into the hospital bed and Killian had left the room briefly when there was a knock on the door. She looked up to see James standing in the doorway.

“James…” Emma smiled as he approached the bed.

“And here I was beginning to think you were going to have the little duckling without me here.”

Emma managed a laugh as he leaned in to give her a hug. “Never. I’d make him wait.”

James plopped a kiss to her forehead and took a seat next to her. “So, it must have been some date,” he joked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Emma’s smile fell, her face contorting as she felt the familiar twinge piercing through her again and she squeezed her eyes shut, holding her belly.

When she opened her eyes again, James was looking down as he took her hand, his eyes growing with concern. Emma knew it wasn’t just because of her contractions when she felt his eyes studying her arm.

“How did you get those bruises?” James asked after the contraction passed.

“David and Margaret didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head. “No, I haven’t really had a chance to talk to them since they called and told me you were having the baby.”

“Neal showed up at the restaurant and attacked me,” she breathed.

James’ face went white, his eyes growing dark. “Neal attacked you? I had no idea. Are you alright?”

Emma managed a nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She explained what happened and had to keep him from leaving her side to hunt down Neal and murder him, his eyes full of anger. She was able to calm him down, and he coaxed her through her contractions.

“Do you need any ice chips or anything?” As soon as he spoke the words, Killian entered the room with ice chips and a damp washcloth.

“It looks like he beat you to it,” Emma managed with a strangled laugh. Killian flashed him a smug grin as he approached with the items, placing the cool cloth on her forehead and handing her the ice chips.

“So, I suppose you heard that Neal showed up and attacked Emma?” Killian asked, his expression hard as he sat on the other side of Emma, gently taking her free hand in his.

“Yeah, I just heard. I’m sorry, I was at work. I had no idea he would come after her,” James spoke to Killian as though she weren’t in the room.

“How could you know that?” she asked him. “It’s not your fault. He must have followed us there,” she assured him. Just then another wave of pain took over her and Killian stroked her hair, whispering gentle words of encouragement.

“I’ll let you two have some privacy.” James said and stood up. “I’ll check on you later.” He got up to leave the room as Killian eyed him suspiciously.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just want you to feel as comfortable as you can,” he replied, looking at her with a smile.

Emma wasn’t sure if she believed him, but she had another pressing matter to ask him about before the next contraction hit her. “Killian, are you going to tell Dr. Tink about us? She’s going to find out.”

She could tell he was taken off guard by the question as his smile fell a bit. “I know, but I’ll tell her, I promise.”

“When?”

“Soon. After you have the baby, I’ll tell her. I’m afraid if I tell her now, she’ll kick me out of the room.”

“But maybe you should have told her sooner,” she breathed out in a whine as another contraction hit her.

Killian grabbed her hand and she tightened the grip. “I know, I was just… I was scared of people finding out. I was afraid how they might react. How she would react.”

Emma let out a heavy breath as the pain started to subside a bit. “Killian, you don’t give yourself enough credit. I think she’ll be more forgiving than you think. She respects you and looks up to you.”

“But I’m afraid she’ll hate me,” he admitted sincerely.

“She’ll only hate that you lied to her.”

Killian nodded and gave her a weak smile, kissing her forehead. “You’re right, love. Thank you for making me see things clearly.”

Emma offered a smile back and cupped his cheek, soothing his skin with her thumb as he leaned his forehead against hers.

For the next long, grueling hours, her friends came in and out to visit and keep her distracted and she got up and walked around every once in awhile. At some point, the Sheriff and Deputy came by to check in on her and make sure she was okay. Emma assured them she was, but she couldn’t really hide the bruises that were visible on her arms. Graham assured her he would stick around the hospital just in case Neal caught wind of her being in labor. Emma felt reassured by that and heard Killian muttering under his breath something about the Sheriff and deputy finally doing their jobs.

Finally Dr. Tink told her it was time to push.

“Who’s going to be Emma’s coach?” she asked, looking to all of the visitors in the room.

“I want Killian to be my coach,” Emma announced. “He’s been practicing breathing techniques with me. I want him.”

“Alright.” Dr. Tink said uninflected and ready to do her job. Emma had already made something up, saying her boyfriend had broken up with her, so she wanted her friends there in the room, including Killian.

The doctor assumed her position and Emma spread her legs, Killian at her side in his scrubs holding her hand.

“Okay, I need you to start pushing when you feel your next contraction, Emma.”

She nodded and drew in a long deep breath, ready to deliver her baby while trying to focus on only that. At the same she was worried Neal would come and take him.

Emma lunged forward, her body convulsing as she gave her first push, tightly squeezing Killian’s hand. Her eyes clenched shut, groans spilling out of her mouth as Killian chanted words of encouragement, helping her through her breathing.

“That’s it, love.” Another push, a powerful contraction gripping her.

“Just breathe, love.”

Emma tried not to focus too much on the pain, but instead she felt a different kind. Images of how she was put in this position in the first place were flashing before her eyes.

“Neal, stop! You’re hurting me!” She yelled, smelling the alcohol on his breath as he forced himself on top of her.

“Push for me, Emma. I can see the baby’s head!” Emma lunged again, crying out.

“Get off of me!” She pleaded to her husband but he didn’t listen. Instead he punched her in the face and held her down.

“Come on Emma, you’re almost there! Keep pushing!” Another lunge.

Emma felt completely useless as he held a death grip on her thighs, his fingers pressing deeply into her skin. “Please stop!” She begged again, but he was only more forceful.

“You can do this, sweetheart. Just one more push!”

Her body curled up and she cried uncontrollably, feeling used up and damaged. She feared that it would never get better. This was it. The rest of her life.

Emma screamed, her body lurching once more, letting out every ounce of pain that she had once felt. Anger. Humiliation. Disappointment. Fear. Loneliness. All of those memories and any lingering feelings of resentment that she held for her baby because of Neal seemed to instantly melt away the very second she heard a high pitched cry filling the room.

She collapsed, utterly exhausted and covered in sweat as the doctor placed her son directly on her belly for immediate skin on skin contact while she wiped the baby off with a towel and cut the cord.

Everything that surrounded her; every noise, every movement, every person in the room seemed to fade out into the background when her son was finally in her arms.

“He’s so tiny,” she breathed out, her eyes clouded with tears as the biggest smile took over her entire face. Emma’s heart was bursting as he looked up at her, letting out small cries. “Hi,” She managed with a strangled laugh, her finger gently caressing his cheek. “I’m your mommy.” She gazed into his eyes, her entire body sighing in relief when she saw that he looked nothing at all like his father.

Blue eyes blinking up at her, light tufts of blonde hair.

Softly stroking his forehead, Emma was instantly taken by her son. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

The baby gurgled, his tiny hands reaching out to her. She took them in her own, kissing his fingers as Killian wrapped his arm around her, staring at him in awe. “You did it, love,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. A tear rolled down her cheek, her smile never fading. It felt surreal finally having the baby that grew inside of her belly for the last nine months in her arms. And he was safe and he was hers. Her perfect boy. She knew right then that she would move mountains to keep her beautiful boy protected… and cared for… and loved.

“He’s absolutely perfect,” she whispered softly.

“He sure is. He gets that from his mum. He’s even got your smile.”

Emma looked up at Killian and he didn’t even try to hide the love he felt for her. For them.

His eyes were glowing with emotion. They both got lost in the moment, not caring about their surroundings.

After a moment, the Nolans came over to see the baby, commenting on how adorable he was.

“He looks just like you,” Mary Margaret beamed, her eyes wet with tears.

“Hey there, little duckling. It’s your Uncle James. You may not be able to tell Uncle David and I apart but just remember I’m the cooler brother.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” David argued with a light chuckle. “I’m the fun uncle. You just wait and see.”

After a few moments of admiring the tiny bundle of joy in Emma’s arms, they left to give her and Killian some alone time with him.

Eventually Emma had to let him go and she whined at the loss when Ruby had to take him away to measure and weigh him.

Six pounds, eight ounces. Twenty inches long.

He was soon back on her chest with a blue cap on his head, the front of her gown removed and her lower half partially covered in a blanket as Dr. Tink was still between her legs working on the cleanup.

Her baby let out small cries every now and then, his hands curling up as he sucked on his fingers.

Emma was so enchanted by her son, she didn’t even realize anything was wrong until she tore her eyes away and looked up at her boyfriend.

“Killian?” He gave her a reassuring smile, taking her hand, but she could tell he was distraught by looking into his eyes. “What-?”

“You’ll be fine, love. Dr. Tink’s just having a hard time removing the placenta.” Killian stroked her hair as she swallowed dryly. She didn’t know whether she should be worried or not, but if Killian said she shouldn’t be then she shouldn’t be.

Emma waited, trying not to focus on what her doctor was doing when her vision started to blur. She heard Dr. Tink call out that she was still bleeding and something about a PPH. Emma wasn’t sure what that was, but she saw that Killian’s face went white as a sheet. And he was supposed to be the calm one of the two. She was too tired from giving birth to really have a reaction.

“Just relax, Emma,” Killian murmured, offering another smile, but she didn’t know whether he was trying to reassure her or himself. “Everything will be alright.”

She was groggy and lightheaded, vaguely aware of her surroundings. But she could hear her OB’s voice and she could hear Killian speaking words of encouragement. “Stay with us, love,” he pleaded, his voice completely wrecked.

Emma’s eyes became heavy and she felt her son clinging to her and breathing softly against her chest, a little cry escaping his mouth. Then everything went black.

@rouhn @followbatb @weplaydumbb @strawberrycupcakeprincess @shady-swan-jones @kmomof4 @ultraluckycatnd @phoenixsxul @eala-captian @teamhook @i-love-books2014 @andiirivera @piratesbooty63fan @missclois86 @fallensites @harrietmjones @winterbaby89 @andiirivera @slimacwrites @jennjenn615 @its-about-bloody-time-cs @followbatb@captainswanismyendgame @klar425 @hey-it-is-jess @ascolinwishes​

If I missed anyone or if you would like to be added or removed let me know.

[shirtlesssammy]

Monster Movie: 4x05 Recap

Natasha would like to preface this recap by falling to the floor like a fainting Elizabeth Taylor and wailing, “You TOLD me I would love doing a Ben Edlund recap this summer. You TOLD me and you were right. DAMN you, you were right!”

Welcome to season four, and welcome to where we really start to see Ben Edlund shine and push the boundaries of this show!

With the cacophony of classic monster movie string music and the black and white fog setting the tone, we open to find Sam and Dean driving down the road in the Impala. Lightning flashes and thunder crashes just as they drive by a sign indicating their latest destination:

Dean hates the music in the area (that joke never gets old). Sam’s reviewing the case they came to investigate: Vic with a gnawed on neck, body drained of blood, and a witness who swears it was a vampire! Case closed? Sam’s thinking about the end of the world but Dean’s thinking about just today, and today they can chop off vamp heads. “It's about time the Winchesters got back to tackling a straightforward, black and white case.” Lolz.

Sam and Dean make it to the town, which happens to be celebrating Oktoberfest. Dean tells Sam that they have to go see the new Indiana Jones movie, but Sam already saw it; Dean was in hell. Boris wonders who got the better deal. (Ouch, I just hurt myself. Dean’s been out of hell 10 years but it’s still too soon to joke.) Dean’s easily distracted with a big pretzel so no hard feelings.

While Dean spots a friendly waitress, Sam spots the local sheriff, and they head to get the lowdown on the case. They head to the morgue to view the victim, and the giant fang marks on her neck. Dean also asks about the witness, Ed Brewer. The sheriff admits he’s not what one would call “reliable”.

The boys then head to the local pub to locate Ed. They find Jamie, the waitress Dean made eyes with earlier. Jamie admits that they don’t come off like feds. Dean reassures her that he’s a rebel.

Cut to the boys interviewing Ed, who’s indulging in a very large stein of beer. He’s the town joke; no one believes him. Sam and Dean reassure him that they know crazy, and want to hear his story. So he spills. Walking home from the bar, he noticed the assailant attacking the victim. He was a vampire: fangs, slicked back hair, and cape..and accent. Dracula through and through. (Can the music be any more spot on?)

Jamie and her fellow waitress, Lucy, talk about crazy Ed. Lucy blots her lipstick on a napkin. After interviewing Ed, Dean heads to ask Jamie for a beer, and Sam notices Lucy’s cast off napkin. The brothers agree that it’s not really their case, but Dean insists they enjoy Oktoberfest anyway.

They settle into a booth and Dean requests a beer from the bar wench. Jamie complies but doesn’t bite when Dean asks when she gets off (she’s no Mandy!) Dean admits to Sam that “it’s time to right some wrongs.” He came back from hell with no old scars. He’s been re-hymenated! With an eye roll, Sam calls it a night and Dean asks Jamie what her plans are, but she declines. Dean lets her know that they’re probably not staying on the case --it’s not weird enough.

Cut to a full moon and two younguns swapping spit in a car. The guy is being a dick, so he’s thankfully sucked from the car by a hairy armed werewolf.

Later, the brothers interview the girl, Anna-Marie, about what happened in that car.

Dean asks for a description of the creature. She’s adamant that it was a werewolf. Between sips of her Mega Big Gulp, she describes in detail what that werewolf looked like.

In the morgue, Dean wonders what the hell’s going on in this town. It seems like it was a werewolf, but the heart was left in the vic.

Back at the pub, the brothers discuss the odd turn the case has taken. It’s like a monster movie mash-up. Jamie brings the boys another round of drinks and makes plans to meet up with Dean later that night.

LOOK AT THIS BEAN! Is there meta for just this episode? I mean, we’ve got all his coping sublimations: alcohol, food, and sex. He’s fresh from hell, and NOT DEALING.

At the Canonsburg Museum of American History, a guard is on the phone inquiring about an odd delivery. Suddenly the sarcophagus opens and a mummy emerges! The guard starts shooting the monster, but ends up on the strangled end of that monstrous roll of toilet paper.

Later, while the sheriff’s department takes care of the deceased, Sam and Dean analyze the sarcophagus. It was from a prop house in Philly, and it had prop dry ice in it. They’re dealing with a monster with a good sense of showmanship. Sam finds the whole case stupid, and Dean realizes he’s late for his date with Jamie.

Having waited too long for Dean, Jamie takes off walking through the foggy late-night streets. A flutter of wings (different from angel wings), Jamie turns to find Dracula. “Good evening.” Jamie takes off running (or slow movie running at least), until she’s cornered. Dracule insists he must have her, but she sprays him with pepper spray and makes her getaway. “Son of a …”

Jamie runs into Dean, and he sees Dracula in hot pursuit. “Son of a bitch.” Dracula is offended by Dean’s language. “Okay,” Dean responds, and promptly punches him. Dracula gets the upper hand in the fight though, and just when all looks lost for Dean, he rips at Dracula’s ear, and it comes off. Dracula runs away, with Dean in hot pursuit.

Dracula jumps a fence that Dean can’t make, and makes his getaway on a scooter.

(Boris may be going a bit overboard with the gifs)

Sam finds Dean and Jamie in the closed bar and Dean greets him by asking Sam to touch the ear he ripped off of Dracula. Nice to see you too, Dean. There's a reason though. Our beautiful, tactile-oriented Dean realized they were hunting a shapeshifter by the feel of the ripped off appendage. Furthermore, he managed to nab Dracula's medallion and discovered that it was also from the same prop shop as the mummy's casket.

“You guys are like Mulder and Scully or something? The X-Files are real?” Jamie asks after watching the exchange. Yep. Pretty much.

Sam uses his giant brain to deftly figure out the mode and motive behind their beast. The shapeshifter seems to be morphing into his favorite horror characters to act out fantasies, and the shifter calling Jamie 'Mina' and Dean 'Mr. Harker' are clear references to Dracula's love interest and competition.

Dean asks if anyone strange has come to town and Jamie scoffs at the question. Dudes. It's Oktoberfest. Who isn't here and being weird? Jamie does recall Ed, however. He moved to town just a month ago and Lucy swears he's sweet on her. He's the projectionist at the old movie theater in town. Dun dun DUN! Sam heads off to scope it out while Dean stays behind and guards (or “guards”) Jamie at the bar.

Jamie wades her way through the OMG-monsters-are-real-what-is-life-even victim arc. Also, Dean's not really FBI, right? “Not so much,” Dean admits. He does, in fact, drive around the country killing monsters.

“Wow!” Jamie exclaims. “That must suck.” (Cue record scratch.)

“The last few years it started weighing on me. Of course that was before...” He tells her he had a near death experience but now life's been different. He realizes he helps people. He saves them. “It's awesome,” he says – not convincing me AT ALL. “Like a mission from god,” he says with tones of distaste. However, while he's starting to spiral down the manpain drain, Jamie cagily asks if that means he's celibate because otherwise...wink wink nudge nudge say no more. Dean snaps out of his introspection quagmire and leans in for the kiss...

...Which is rudely interrupted by Lucy switching on the lights and rummaging around at the bar for a bottle of booze. Omigod did she interrupt? She falls over herself, embarrassed, but Jamie invites her to join herself and Dean for a drink. Dean is thrilled at the prospect of hanging out with two best gal pals. Platonically.

Sam heads into the heavily retro movie theater. Old horror movie posters line the halls and Sam advances into the theater as gruesome horror music swells. Look out, Sam! Your hair is too long! You're now the delicate maiden in this horror plot.

The organist plays on, nothing but a terrible shadow projected behind the silver screen. And then Sam bursts in on him just as he switches to a light Calypso tune. Ed, our mysterious organist, cowers under Sam's gun. Sam tries to rip off his ear and fails. Wow. That’s a test for shapeshifter he's never tried out again. Once burned, right Sam?

Sam: It's supposed to come off.

Ed: No, it's not.

Back at the bar Jamie and Dean are getting wasted while Lucy looks on, amused.

Dean realizes he’s been roofied, stands up, and punches Lucy. She looks up from the floor and shoves her jaw back into place while Dean demands to know what she put in their drinks. And then he collapses to the floor unconscious, the precious angel.

When Dean wakes he's dressed a loose white shirt and lederhosen, and strapped to a wooden slab with metal bars. Très Frankenstein chic! (Side note: don’t think about how creepy it is that our shifty shifter likes to use people as dress up dolls. DON’T think about it.)

Dracula swans in. It turns out that “Lucy” was modeled after “bride number 3 from the first film.” Dean laughs, utterly captivated by the utter weirdo monster case they've managed to land. Dracula swans across the floor to argue with Dean about movies. “I am ALL monsters,” Dracula announces. And in his movie, the monster gets the girl and Jonathan Harker gets zapped with a gazillion volts of electricity.

Dracula slowly and dramatically reaches for the switch while Dean struggles. The music builds and builds and...the doorbell rings. “Ah! Zat is zee doorbell!” he might has well have said, lifting his cape over his nose and flying away upstairs. Well, he does actually do the latter and Dean's life is spared for another few minutes.

Dracula throws open the door theatrically. It's the pizza guy! “Tell me,” he asks. “is there GARLIC on this pizza?”

“Fuck my life,” mutters the pizza guy and drives off into the sunset in search of better fates.

Sam finds his way back to the bar where he discovers the broken bottle. He's also unable to reach Dean on his cell and notices Lucy's lipsticked napkin. “Lucy,” he mutters, eyes alight with revelation.

Dracula invites Jamie to put on a Mina-like gown and then join him for...PIZZA. Jamie doesn't want to play his game though, and begs to go home. Dracula snaps and shouts in a deranged and very un-movie-like manner for her to “put on the gown.”

Sam breaks into Lucy's house cat-silently because he's Sam Fucking Winchester and stalks through the house. Jamie has donned the gown and Dracula/Lucy apologizes for scaring her. Life is too real, too brutal, without the veneer of the movies. Dracula/Lucy’s father called them a monster and tried to beat them to death with a shovel, and so they escaped into the fantasy worlds offered by movies. It's sad but Jamie, quite rightly, asks how killing people works with Dracula/Lucy’s general victim narrative. There's a noise from within the house and Jamie screams for Dean. Dracula/Lucy knocks her out and heads off to head off the hunters.

Sam finds Dean and unlocks him (though there is much merriment) and they kick their way out of the prop dungeon. They fly through weak facade walls and fight Dracula/Lucy. Things are looking bad for our heroes when the shifter is suddenly shot several times in the chest. Dracula/Lucy turns, shocked, to find that they were shot to death by Jamie's steady hand. (I mean, if you're going to subvert movie tropes HELL YEAH the heroine is gonna save herself. Dracula/Lucy dies.

And so the case is concluded. Still filmed in gorgeous black and white, Dean kisses Jamie a fond farewell. She thanks them for saving her life before disappearing back into the wilds of Oktoberfest.

I Want to Quote Your Blood:

It's time the Winchesters got back to tackling a straightforward, black and white case.

Yeah, you got me -- I mean this killer's some kind of grade-A wacko, right? I mean, some Satan worshipping, Anne Rice-reading, gothic, psycho vampire wannabe.

I'm a maverick, ma'am. A rebel with a badge. One thing I don’t play by: the rules.

I have been re-hymenated.

Hey, you think this Dracula could turn into a bat? That would be cool.

And...scene.

I can't get over what a pumpkin-pie-eyed, crazy son of a bitch you really are.

You've brought a repast. Excellent. Continue to be of such service, and your life will be spared.

'Twas beauty that killed the beast.

The hero gets the girl, monster gets the gank. All in all, happy ending -- with a happy ending, no less.

[marymosley]

News Roundup

Protests in Portland, Oregon, turned deadly over the weekend when a man was shot on the street following a clash between supporters of President Donald Trump and people demonstrating against racial disparities in policing.  On Saturday, a group of Trump supporters drove vehicles in a caravan around Portland while flying flags and otherwise expressing their support for the president in the upcoming election.  Though the caravan route was meant to bypass downtown Portland, where protests have been ongoing since the killing of George Floyd in late May, some participants departed from the route and drove downtown where conflict broke out.  Late in the evening, a member of the caravan, Aaron “Jay” Danielson was fatally shot in the chest by a gunman who has not yet been identified.  Keep reading for more on this story and other news.

Portland.  Videos from the incident in Portland show angry confrontations between protesters and Trump supporters, with some Trump supporters shooting paintball guns and spraying pepper spray into crowds of protesters and protesters throwing objects back at them.  Later in the evening, after most of the caravan had left downtown, a Portland man who has been livestreaming protests in the city, Justin Dunlap, witnessed the shooting and filmed it on his cellphone.

In an interview with The Oregonian, Dunlap said that he saw Danielson surrounded by a cloud of mace with something in his hand and then immediately heard two gunshots and saw Danielson collapse on the street.  Danielson’s friend Chandler Pappas was with him when the shooting occurred and gave his account of the incident in an interview that has been posted to YouTube.  Pappas said that he and Danielson were targeted with violence because of their affiliation with a group called Patriot Prayer and described the shooting as an execution.  Photographs of Pappas and Danielson taken earlier in the day appear to show them with a paintball gun and mace.

Though he has not been charged with a crime or positively identified as the shooter, The Oregonian reports that Michael Forest Reinoehl, who has attended many protests in the city and has identified himself as anti-fascist, is under investigation as the possible perpetrator.

Patriot Prayer.  As this report from Reuters indicates, opinions about the ideology of Patriot Prayer are divided, though there is consensus that it is an outspoken conservative activist group.  The Reuter’s story says that the group’s leader, Joey Gibson, describes the group as being on “a non-violent mission to prevent the United States from becoming a ‘Godless, socialist’ country” and denies that the group supports white supremacy.  In a statement on Sunday, Oregon Governor Kate Brown associated the group with “self-proclaimed militia members” and “armed white supremacists.”

Open Carry.  WRAL reports that the Holy Springs Town Council recently had a preliminary vote to approve an ordinance that prohibits openly carrying a firearm on town property.  In an interview, Holly Springs Mayor Dick Sears said that residents have expressed strong opinions on both sides of the issue – he jokingly noted that the last issue to generate as much input from residents as the open carry prohibition was the decision about whether to permit backyard chicken coops in the town.

Jail Health Care.  An article in the News & Observer this week looks at the decision to renew the contract for the medical provider at the Forsyth County Detention Center following John Neville’s death at the facility late last year.  The article says that the company that provides the services, Wellpath, is one of the largest inmate healthcare providers in the country, and Sheriff Bobby Kimbrough told the N&O that the company has been responsive in making changes to its services that make it a good fit for Forsyth County.  Kimbrough told The Atlantic last year that when he ran for sheriff in 2018, he had planned to move to another medical services provider but found that there are few companies to choose from.  After expressing dissatisfaction to Wellpath leaders and having a county public-health nurse monitor the company’s compliance with the contract, Kimbrough said that the quality of services had improved.

The report notes that former Forsyth County District Attorney Tom Keith filed involuntary manslaughter charges against Correctional Medical Services, the company that previously provided services to the facility, following the death of Clarence Cousins in 1996 but later dismissed the criminal case as part of an agreement that the company pay $200,000 to improve the facility’s medical unit.  The article says that it is not entirely clear what the money was used for.

The post News Roundup appeared first on North Carolina Criminal Law.

News Roundup published first on https://immigrationlawyerto.tumblr.com/

[ujetsales]

Oklahoma isn’t working. Can anyone fix this failing American state?

A teacher panhandles on a roadside to buy supplies for her third-grade classroom. Entire school districts resort to four-day school weeks. Nearly one in four children struggle with hunger.

A city overpass crumbles and swarms of earthquakes shake the region – the underground disposal of oil and gas industry wastes have caused the tremors. Wildfires burn out of control: cuts to state forestry services mean that out-of-state firefighting crews must be called in.

A paralyzed and mentally ill veteran is left on the floor of a county jail. Guards watch for days until the prisoner dies. A death row inmate violently convulses on the gurney as prison officials experiment with an untested cocktail for execution.

Added up, the facts evoke a social breakdown across the board. Not only does Oklahoma lead the country in cuts to education, it’s also number one in rates of female incarceration, places second in male incarceration, and also leads in school expulsion rates. One in twelve Oklahomans have a felony conviction.

Rosa Brooks of Georgetown University Law Center wrote in an essay that states begin to fail when the contract between citizens and public institutions breaks down. States “lose control over the means of violence, and cannot create peace or stability for their populations or control their territories. They cannot ensure economic growth or any reasonable distribution of social goods.”

It may be hard to believe, but entry-level employees with a high school diploma at the popular convenience store QuikTrip make more than teachers in Oklahoma.

For four years running, the state has led the nation in tax cuts to education, outpacing second-place Alabama by double digits. Years of tax cuts and budget shortfalls mean that Oklahoma has fallen to 49th in teacher pay. Spending per pupil has dropped by 26.9% since 2008.

Things have become so bad that the Cherokee nation, a tribe systematically cheated out of its land allotments in the creation of the modern state of Oklahoma, recently donated $5m to the state’s education fund.

Some schools in Oklahoma are planning to reduce the school week to four days next year as a result of a nearly $1m budget cut. Photograph: Reuters Staff/Reuters

Lisa Newman, a high school teacher from El Reno, for instance, recounts a history of cutbacks, increases in class sizes, and her stagnant salary. She takes in less than $1,000 a month after all her bills are paid.

Newman, who recently moved back into her parents’ house at age 39, contemplates a declining standard of living while she raises two boys and works about 50 hours a week.

Shelby Eagan, Mitchell elementary school’s 2016 teacher of the year, decided she’d had enough after a referendum to raise teacher pay through an increase in state sales tax was defeated in last November’s election.

“I would like to have kids some day,” she says. But that’s unlikely for now: her rent has gone up. She also buys her own supplies for her classroom.

Eagan is originally from Kansas City but she loves Oklahoma. She found her calling teaching in an urban elementary school. She teaches the children “how to tie their shoes, blow their nose, have superhero fights that don’t turn violent”, among other things. All of her students are on free or reduced-fee lunch programs.

After the referendum defeat of SQ 779, Eagan decided to look elsewhere for a better gig. Eagan found a job in the area that would increase her salary by $10,000 right off the bat.

Eagan’s decision to leave was mirrored in May by the 2016 Oklahoma teacher of the year, Shawn Sheehan, who wrote in an op-ed: “Teaching in Oklahoma is a dysfunctional relationship.”

At Oklahoma Policy Institute, a progressive thinktank, the policy analyst Carly Putnam says education is only one part of the state’s dysfunction. Putnam cites the example of a popular support program for developmental disabilities which gave families of limited means resources to take care of their loved ones. It takes roughly 10 years just to get on a waiting list to be considered for the support waiver to help a disabled person, meaning applications filed in 2006 are just now being considered. Many of the disabled patients have died by the time their files are being considered.

The case of Elliot Williams is a stark example of how Oklamhoma’s public institutions is failing its citizens. Williams, who had been honorably discharged from the army, had a diagnosed bipolar condition. After he experienced a few nights of insomnia at his parents’ house in Owasso, relatives brought him to a hotel.

Williams threw a soda can in the lobby and walked into a door. Hotel staff called police. An officer who arrived at the scene found Williams “rambling on about God and eating dirt”. The officer and the staff concluded that Williams was suffering from “some kind of mental breakdown”.

They escorted him out of the hotel and called his parents. At some point, while outside the hotel, Williams threatened to kill himself. A cop ordered him to stay seated on a curb. Williams got up and moved towards a police officer, who pepper-sprayed him.

Elliott Williams, surrounded by emergency personnel in his cell. Photograph: AP

Police arrested Williams, charging him with obstruction. The small town jail of Owasso wasn’t equipped to deal with a case like Williams’s. Instead of a suitable mental health facility, Williams wound up Tulsa County Jail.

It was Williams’s bad luck to be transferred to a jail that only weeks earlier, federal agents had faulted for “a prevailing attitude of indifference”.

The jail was run by Sheriff Stanley Glanz, who would become infamous as the man who assigned his friend, Robert Bates, an insurance agent with no police training, to a violent crimes task force.

Tulsa County jail was certainly no place for a man with a bipolar condition. And yet, with Williams in the midst a breakdown, he was tackled and body-slammed to the ground by an officer. Williams had difficulty walking. He was transferred to a holding cell, where he rammed his head against a wall.

Seeing Williams unable to move, the head nurse allegedly told him to “quit fucking faking”. He defecated on himself and officers dragged him to a shower. He still didn’t move. To prove that it was an act, an officer put a small cup of water just outside Williams’s grasp. He never reached it.

For three days, jail officials – guards and medical staff – expressed “concern” about Williams but never called 911 or requested a hospital transfer. He was left in a medical cell, where a video camera recorded him lying there, unable to eat or drink. Five days after he was put in the Tulsa County jail, Williams had died of complications from a broken neck and serious dehydration.

Audits and inspections of the Tulsa County jail revealed decades of indifference to sexual abuse, overcrowding and overt racism. From one angle, the Tulsa County jail is par for the course of the American criminal justice system. But from another – and in the opinion of the jury that ultimately sided with Williams by awarding his estate $10.25m – Tulsa had seriously failed.

A pump jack rests idle in a residential lot of a lower-income neighborhood in Oklahoma City. Photograph: Brett Deering for the Guardian

Shane Matson is a geologist whose family has been in the Oklahoma oil business for three generations. For Matson, the discovery of new reserves in Oklahoma is a good thing. The “dark outlook about the future of energy” is gone, he says. Cheap oil and gas are now abundant.

Matson fought Obama-era regulations in Osage County, where he was exploring for oil. But his industry’s political influence has now reached untoward extremes, he thinks. Chesapeake Energy, Devon Energy and Continental Resources have lobbied to lower the state’s gross production tax, citing competition from other states. They’ve gotten their way, with Oklahoma’s oil and gas production taxes now significantly below those of its rival Texas.

One of the state’s richest men and its most renowned philanthropist, George Kaiser, has been urging an increase in the gross production tax for years. And there’s reason to believe it’s not necessarily a partisan issue. Until recently, North Dakota had been able to expand its education system with a 6.5% gross production tax.

And despite the tax cuts, the Tulsa-based Newfield Exploration moved most of its staff to Houston.

Industry leaders, not surprisingly, see the issue through an entirely different lens.

Chad Warmington, the president of the Oklahoma Oil & Gas Association, says that about a quarter of the state’s tax revenue comes from oil and gas while the industry employs about 13% of the state’s workforce. Dependence on taxes from oil and gas “has left the state unprepared for inevitable price downturns of a cyclical industry”, Warmington says. The current downturn, then, “has led many to question the state’s management of the tax dollar”.

The Oklahoma Policy Institute calculates that the current regime of tax breaks and refunds costs around half a billion dollars in decreased revenue ever year. That figure, if correct, would cover the current $220 million budget gap in education but would still not be enough to make up for the state’s entire budget shortfall.

Of course, many would not recognize their state in this description. One of the most respected bloggers in Tulsa, Michael Bates, said the whole idea of Oklahoma as a failing state was “hysterical and overwrought”.

After all, downtown Tulsa and Oklahoma City are thriving. The cities have been rated by Kiplinger among the “best cities in America to start a business”. Tulsa has rolling hills, parks and delicious barbecue: Tulsa People enumerates the city’s private schools. Affordable housing prices are the envy of the nation and suburban school districts boast gleaming new facilities. And yes, some conservatives think the four-day week is good for “traditional” families, allowing for more time with the kids. For affluent families, the extra day can be spent on college prep or sports. But for middle- and working- class parents, it means lost wages or added expenses for childcare.

Becky Blackmon, 54 and homeless, panhandles with a sign reading “need help” at an intersection in Oklahoma City. Photograph: Brett Deering for the Guardian

And for poor families, like those of Eagan’s students, who rely on the free lunch program, it means hunger. Local food banks have to pick up the slack and deliver meals when the kids aren’t in school.

Nearly everyone I talked to for this story – regardless of political affiliation – was startled by the downward spiral of basic social services.

There is something deeply ingrained and unyielding in the state’s conservatism.

When I was in elementary school, I remember seeing my mother struggle with hundreds of thousands of dollars of unpaid medical bills after my dad died of heart disease. She was suddenly a single mother with an incomplete college education, no professional training, and a mountain of debt. We depended on the generosity of friends and family to get by.

I recently asked her why she never went on welfare or food stamps while she worked as a daycare teacher and raised me.

“Welfare is for poor people,” she said. “We weren’t them.”

If you rely on the progressive account, it’s easy to think Red America is dominated by a majority of angry racists lighting a match to liberal democracy. And people in the hipper areas of Tulsa seem to want the city to divorce the state.

But there are signals that some Oklahomans want a change of direction. David Blatt, the executive director of Oklahoma Policy Institute, and someone who’s happy to work with “reasonable” Republicans, points to three referenda widely expected to be voted down that actually won.

Oklahomans voted to reclassify certain drug possession crimes from felonies to misdemeanors, bucking the “law and order” line of the Trump campaign. They also voted to deny public funds to return a Ten Commandments monument to the state capitol, and against a bill to rewrite the state’s constitution that would have made it harder to regulate big agribusiness. All this in a state that gave Trump the third-widest margin of victory in America.

Meanwhile, facing another budget meltdown and a teacher exodus, the state raised cigarette taxes to cover the shortfall only to have the supreme court rule the law unconstitutional.

“Our situation is dire,” Oklahoma finance director Preston Doerflinger said. “To use a pretty harsh word, our revenues are difficult at best. Maybe they fall into the category of somewhat pathetic.”

Governor Mary Fallin had an answer: prayer. The governor issued an official proclamation making 13 October Oilfield Prayer Day. Christians were to gather in churches and hope for a little divine intervention targeting falling worldwide oil prices. Fallin quickly back-pedalled when it was pointed out that her proclamation only included Christians. “Prayer is good for everyone,” she reasoned.

Prayer Day came and went. The price of oil has barely budged since. Three weeks after Prayer Day, however, the earth shook. A 5.0 magnitude earthquake hit the town of Cushing, a place whose claim to fame is the “Oil Pipeline Crossroads of the World”.

Maybe God had something to say about Oklahoma after all.

Russell Cobb is an associate professor in modern languages and cultural studies at the University of Alberta. He is at work on a book provisionally titled You Dumb Okie: Race, Class, and Lies in Flyover Country

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[marymosley]

News Roundup

Protests in Portland, Oregon, turned deadly over the weekend when a man was shot on the street following a clash between supporters of President Donald Trump and people demonstrating against racial disparities in policing.  On Saturday, a group of Trump supporters drove vehicles in a caravan around Portland while flying flags and otherwise expressing their support for the president in the upcoming election.  Though the caravan route was meant to bypass downtown Portland, where protests have been ongoing since the killing of George Floyd in late May, some participants departed from the route and drove downtown where conflict broke out.  Late in the evening, a member of the caravan, Aaron “Jay” Danielson was fatally shot in the chest by a gunman who has not yet been identified.  Keep reading for more on this story and other news.

Portland.  Videos from the incident in Portland show angry confrontations between protesters and Trump supporters, with some Trump supporters shooting paintball guns and spraying pepper spray into crowds of protesters and protesters throwing objects back at them.  Later in the evening, after most of the caravan had left downtown, a Portland man who has been livestreaming protests in the city, Justin Dunlap, witnessed the shooting and filmed it on his cellphone.

In an interview with The Oregonian, Dunlap said that he saw Danielson surrounded by a cloud of mace with something in his hand and then immediately heard two gunshots and saw Danielson collapse on the street.  Danielson’s friend Chandler Pappas was with him when the shooting occurred and gave his account of the incident in an interview that has been posted to YouTube.  Pappas said that he and Danielson were targeted with violence because of their affiliation with a group called Patriot Prayer and described the shooting as an execution.  Photographs of Pappas and Danielson taken earlier in the day appear to show them with a paintball gun and mace.

Though he has not been charged with a crime or positively identified as the shooter, The Oregonian reports that Michael Forest Reinoehl, who has attended many protests in the city and has identified himself as anti-fascist, is under investigation as the possible perpetrator.

Patriot Prayer.  As this report from Reuters indicates, opinions about the ideology of Patriot Prayer are divided, though there is consensus that it is an outspoken conservative activist group.  The Reuter’s story says that the group’s leader, Joey Gibson, describes the group as being on “a non-violent mission to prevent the United States from becoming a ‘Godless, socialist’ country” and denies that the group supports white supremacy.  In a statement on Sunday, Oregon Governor Kate Brown associated the group with “self-proclaimed militia members” and “armed white supremacists.”

Open Carry.  WRAL reports that the Holy Springs Town Council recently had a preliminary vote to approve an ordinance that prohibits openly carrying a firearm on town property.  In an interview, Holly Springs Mayor Dick Sears said that residents have expressed strong opinions on both sides of the issue – he jokingly noted that the last issue to generate as much input from residents as the open carry prohibition was the decision about whether to permit backyard chicken coops in the town.

Jail Health Care.  An article in the News & Observer this week looks at the decision to renew the contract for the medical provider at the Forsyth County Detention Center following John Neville’s death at the facility late last year.  The article says that the company that provides the services, Wellpath, is one of the largest inmate healthcare providers in the country, and Sheriff Bobby Kimbrough told the N&O that the company has been responsive in making changes to its services that make it a good fit for Forsyth County.  Kimbrough told The Atlantic last year that when he ran for sheriff in 2018, he had planned to move to another medical services provider but found that there are few companies to choose from.  After expressing dissatisfaction to Wellpath leaders and having a county public-health nurse monitor the company’s compliance with the contract, Kimbrough said that the quality of services had improved.

The report notes that former Forsyth County District Attorney Tom Keith filed involuntary manslaughter charges against Correctional Medical Services, the company that previously provided services to the facility, following the death of Clarence Cousins in 1996 but later dismissed the criminal case as part of an agreement that the company pay $200,000 to improve the facility’s medical unit.  The article says that it is not entirely clear what the money was used for.

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