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[protectserve]

town hall meetings have always made rick nervous. rick doesn’t like mass gatherings in general, it’s what makes the founding days festival such a dreaded thing for rick, even if its a smaller scale, smaller venue. it’s not just that he’s an introvert, it’s partly a danger thing. with so many personalities in one place, things are bound to get a bit intense. watching over the crowd, rick stands at the front of the room and mentally catalogs every face in the room, remembering most of the names. his eyes set on poppy, daughter of the winterfields, looking really nervous. a caring man, his own disastrous relationship with his daughter notwithstanding, rick can’t help the instant worry he feels at seeing the winterfield girl looking like she’s going to throw up her own heart. moving slowly to her spot in the corner, rick approaches with a kind tone and small smile, “hey miss winterfield, how are you? are your parents here?”

Open Starter for Charming Residents  Town Meeting | @charmingrp​

Poppy had never been to a town meeting before. Her parents had always been the ones to attend and normally she was one of the teens that would baby sit the younger kids whilst that adults all went to have their say but this year…it was her turn. With both of her parents away on a holiday they had been saving for they had made sure to give Poppy a list, one that was neatly tucked and placed in her pocket, with a number of things they wanted for her to address with reasons. Honestly Poppy was sure this was just their was of trying to get her out there, but it wasn’t like she was going to let them down. Now she just had to try and not look so nervous as she waited for everything to starter. Her brown curls framing her face as she frowned from her place in the corner where she was tucked away, hoping she didn’t look like she was starting to hard at anyone. She really wasn’t here for trouble, though she probably looked like the easiest target in the room from where she was. 

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mariel,

The thing with Mariel is once you get her into a mood, you just can’t stop her. So considering that this was a) her job and b) one of her only source of entertainment, she was going to come through and get at least something out of this day. “Did I fucking stutter Cap?” In fact, she decided to change up the pace as she got up from her seat and wandered over to his window. Placing both hands on her hips, she then squinted as if she was looking for something in particular, “I think it’s time for you to go on break now Mister. I feel like you’ve been at it all day, let’s go? What’s your fave spot?” Was she trying to suck up to the guy? Probably, but wasn’t that already obvious? Why hold back now?

Returning back to her seat, she flopped back down and made herself comfortable, picking out a few pieces of lint off of her blouse and listened in on his inquiry. “Look at you boomer, keeping up with the youths. What’s next you’re dating a Karen now?” If he didn’t get that lingo, then hey—you win some, you lose some. “You make it seem like I come here because I want something. I’ve been new to town for a few months now and I’m just trying to acquaint myself with some important individuals in this town that’s all. Don’t tell me you that you think I’m out here wasting my time? Cause let me tell you this, my time is valuable Mr. Kelleher and I make the most of it.” 

rick couldn’t imagine any of his officers speaking to him in such a way, or really anyone (besides those that visited his jail cells more than his office, but he didn’t consider them contemporaries), but mariel was already in a class of her own. “i’m not opposed.” rick answers, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in front of him. “i guess we can head on over to hale’s.” it wasn’t really his favorite, but it was affordable, even though he knew she was more than capable of paying for it; he wasn’t the type to bleed people dry, he grew up too poor for an attitude like that. mariel’s next comment makes him laugh lightly, shrugging in response. “i do have a millennial daughter, you know.” he knew the karen ‘meme’, yes he knew that word too!, and he could certainly say he knew people in his very town that could be described by it, but it also didn’t feel fair for him to use it. “ah, no. haven’t dated for quite some time now.” there was a time when he dated freddie dawson, but it only lasted for a few weeks and ended with each deciding they were better as friends. his heart will always belong to lily kelleher, anyways.

rick’s brows rose, leaning a bit forward in his chair. he hadn’t meant any offense, but lawyers definitely know how to make their point known. “of course, ms. buenaventura, i didn’t mean to imply any different. i was asking if this is a social call or related to a case.” getting up from his seat, he grabs for his wallet and phone to place in his jean pocket. “i’ll let the desk sergeant know i’m out for lunch.”

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location : hoopers. / with : @saintfred​

is it a surprise to say that rick doesn’t get out much? even without the demanding job of being a police captain, and a daughter that he’s tentatively trying to repair his relationship with, rick is a natural homebody. the few times he does enter a bar is because they also serve food, as rick isn’t much of a drinker either. that’s another incentive, of course, one with red hair. a quick chat with freddie is always a nice thing to look forward to, and he doesn’t often get a chance to do that. they’re both so attached to their places of work, and there’s still a bit of past-relationship awkwardness, but neither holds any animosity—at the very least, rick doesn’t. it’s always pleasant to run into her, and when he sets down at the table in hoopers, he’s not surprised to find her walking by (in fact, he’d been a bit hopeful). “fred!” rick calls out to get her attention, “hey, how have you been? i don’t think i’ve seen you since the festival.”

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miray,

                             Gentle, light blue hues had spent the past five minutes staring at the grand ( or quite common, to be truthful ) entrance of the police department. Somewhere in the back of her head she could recall urging her feet to move but they’d ignored her, remaining drilled to the gravel underneath. Her heart was beating in her throat and eardrums a mile a minute, defeaning all surrounding sounds. She thought she’d grown used to feeling equally terrified and excited every time she’d made a choice that favored her own wishes and needs — they weren’t that many anyway — but she realized then, there was no getting used to this. A new job, as a real police officer, in a new home. Her journey of full independance was about to begin. But what if she messed up? What if her boss or her co-workers hated her? What if— 

“Hey! Hello? Miss? Are you okay? Is there something wrong? Miss!”

The stranger had to stand right in front of her and block the view of the department’s door for Miray to notice them. They were wearing a police uniform and their eyes were scanning through her features with concern and curiosity. “Um, no—I mean yes.” Crap. The brunette rubbed her temple for a moment, pulling her mind to focus. A nervous smile broke through her features as she shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you. I’m just…going inside.” After they exchanged polite nods, Miray took a deep breath through her nose, released it from the mouth slowly, and made the few required steps inside Charming’s Police Department. 

The rookie cop wasted a couple more minutes looking around her new work place in awe. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it looked clean, neat and smelled kind of nice ( the same couldn’t be told for Santa Barbara’s department ). At least it didn’t take her as long to focus on the task at hand. It wasn’t difficult to spot the captain’s office, since there was almost always a door that seperated them from the rest. Miray’s hold tightened around the folder in her hand as she made her way to the entrance. Before she talked, she checked the name engraved in a prop on the man’s desk: Richard Kelleher. Captain. The younger woman was about to knock on the open door out of respect, but he’d caught sight of her before she could. She straightened her spine to fix her posture and slipped inside. She wanted to look serious but there was little she could do to supress her giddy and incredibly nervous smile. 

“Good morning, Captain Kelleher. I’m Miray Deniz.” A brief pause occured. She shouldn’t expect him to remember who she was. “Um, I was transfered here from Santa Barbara’s police department? You reviewed my online application.”

the charming police department has a high turnover rate, something he knew long before he was promoted to captain, long before he even moved to charming. all police work is hard work, and he’s worked in precincts that were much, much worse when it came to crime and general incompetence. charming’s a hard place to be a cop, but it’s certainly not a big city, where crime is abundant and every moment is a moment where your life could end. it’s true for charming, too. it’s true for any cop, anywhere, it’s a dangerous job and it’s filled with plenty of people that have no idea what they’re doing—that’s what he can’t stand in an officer, ineptitude. cops that use their job as a power trip, get excited at the prospect of controlling people instead of helping people. rick tries to weed them out of his department, but that’s not why charming has a high turnover rate, or at least why it did before he became captain. it’s hard to work in charming because the motorcycle club is so embedded into the dna of the town. everyone has a brother, father, uncle, cousin, friend, and now maybe even a sister in the club. if they’re not part of the club, then they’re likely part of the gang. hell, even one of his best detective’s ex-husband is a devil. (thank god his own daughter mostly stays away from either syndicate.)

the turnover rate is high, and many times rick has thought about leaving charming to their own devices. go settle down some place close to wherever his daughter was living at the time, of course she’s living with him now, a sleepy little town where the closest thing to organized crime is the school district misappropriating fundraiser money or girl scouts price-gouging their cookies because they know people will pay for it. the sort of place that he can ride out his last few years of his career until he slips easily into retirement, then easily into death. yes, rick has thought about it, but he’s never done more than just think. ultimately, he’d feel guilty, leaving his town, abandoning them when they need a smoothly run department the most. he’ll stay in charming until he dies, and he’ll probably die here. 

usually people don’t request to transfer to charming, they’re begging to leave, but there’s occasionally someone that asks to be placed in his department. he had known that he was getting a new officer some day soon, but he wasn’t sure the exact day, mind always thinking about several things at once. officer miray deniz, the application said, and it all clicks into place when she states her name. she’s quite young, maybe only a year or two into her career, and she’s got the nervous energy of a kid on their first day of school. “oh, yes!” rick waves her in further and then gets up from his chair, extending a welcoming hand. “i remember! not every day we get someone wanting to come here.” in fact, most of his officers and detectives were locals, though rick was also a transfer once upon a time. “welcome to charming, officer deniz.”

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☎

NAME:

now if this was real life, rick would only have sawyer’s number on like, a prepaid phone from the grocery store that they use to secretly communicate, and it would only be under the phone number and not a name. since this is for fun tho, he’d have him under the name ‘Tim’ because i’m not sure if rick would know his real last name is ballards!

RINGTONE:

though his cop-related contacts have the iPhone ringtone called constellation, rick will probably need to know that someone ~super secret is calling so he’d set up sawyer’s ringtone as Summit.

PICTURE:

again it probably wouldn’t be safe for sawyer’s undercover identity for rick to have a picture for his contact info, but for fun, let’s say it’s this one bc it’s the most cop-like picture i found of gavin on instagram lol.

LAST TEXT RECEIVED:

[ received at 03:54 ] I’m okay, but can’t talk right now. See you at the Butterfly Gardens next week?

LAST TEXT SENT:

[ sent at 01:19 ] Tim, I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay. Call me if you can. [ sent at 06:02 ] I’ll see you then. Stay safe.

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☎ Minnie

NAME:

rick says phones are for BUSINESS not FUN!! so his own daughter’s contact name is her actual full legal name, ‘Amelia Min Kelleher.’ dad of the year!

RINGTONE:

rick doesn’t really do much with ringtones besides setting generic ones up for different groups of people, but minnie’s the only one to have a custom ringtone of her own. it’s ‘Spirit in the Sky’ by Norman Greenbaum, which sounds morbid to other people but it’s because they used to listen to it together when she was young!! he paid 0.99 cents for it too!

PICTURE:

rick isn’t much of a pictures person, but he did take this one snap of minnie fixing the lock at her college apartment when she locked herself out while rick was visiting, because dads always do shit like that. he sent it to her aunt like ‘look, she’s using power tools!!’ and they all laughed about it but minnie was secretly annoyed bc she’s been self-reliant for years. she looks cute either way.

LAST TEXT RECEIVED:

[ received at 16:04 ] i would but i already left the house, sorry dad [ received at 16:38 ] they called me in ! [ received at 17:21 ] two things can be true

LAST TEXT SENT:

[ sent at 15:29 ] Hey, can you give Petula her medicine? [ sent at 16:32 ] I thought you didn’t have to work today? Haha [ sent at 16:45 ] Did they call you in, or you just don’t want to give her the medicine because you have to hide it in a big ball of peanut butter?

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☎

NAME: 

he’s boring and old so it’s just a plain ‘Det. J. Kincaid’

RINGTONE: 

again, he’s boring and old, but he does have separate ringtones for work related contacts, family, and otherwise. for his detectives and officers, it’s constellation.

PICTURE:

i honestly doubt that rick really ever thinks about pictures on his phone, his lockscreen is probably the generic background that comes with his phone, but if jordan got a hold of his phone she would 100% set up her own contact photo as this:

LAST TEXT RECEIVED:

[ received at 21:27 ] Dicky, if you weren’t going to eat it yesterday, you weren’t going to eat it today! [ received at 21:32 ] 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 [ received at 21:38 ] I know that’s a damn lie because I was the one that convinced you to upgrade to an iPhone 7 plus! Emojis already come on your phone!!! [ received at 21:43 ] 😲

LAST TEXT SENT:

[ sent at 21:23 ] I’m not talking to you. I know you took my ham sandwich out of the break room fridge and threw it out [ sent at 21:30 ] I SAID I’m not talking to you. [ sent at 21:35 ] Jordan, you know I don’t have emojis on my phone. They just show up as boxes with question marks for me. [ sent at 21:42 ] how about this emoji 🖕

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Put ☎ in my ask for your muses info in my muses phone:

NAME:

RINGTONE: 

PICTURE: 

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: 

LAST TEXT SENT: 

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location : greer’s butterfly greenhouse garden. / with : @sawyerhensley​

it’s hard to find a place in charming that’s both plausible for a police captain and devil to be in, but also private enough to ensure no one overhears them. when rick was told that someone was being sent in to infiltrate the motorcycle club, he was momentarily relieved to finally have someone on the inside, but that quickly changed over to worry when he met sawyer—or rather, timothy—for the first time. he was just a kid. he is just a kid. as if rick didn’t spend most of his time worrying, over his daughter, over his officers, over his town, it’s nothing to add another onto it. it’s been over two years since sawyer’s come to town, and while rick has many things to think about, he still worries over his safety. if the devils’ were to find out what sawyer really is? rick doesn’t know what would happen, but he can only assume it won’t end well for his undercover cop.

the butterfly gardens is a bit conspicuous, but it’s far away from the rest of the town, and usually packed with tourists that rick’s found it to be the safest place in public that they can meet. easy enough to explain away if someone spots them, but private and out of the way enough that rarely anyone does. standing at their predestined meeting spot, a butterfly lands on rick’s jacket just as he sees sawyer out of the corner of his eye. once he’s close enough, rick casually glances at sawyer and makes it look as if he’s not talking to the other man, “how’re you doing, tim?”

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mariel,

Stepping out of her vehicle, Mariel picked up her purse and straightened out her outfit. It was another day, another dollar and another day of purpose. However, the real question is whether she’s in a mood or not? Who knows at this point? She’s a wildcard and depending on the situation, it may change accordingly. Walking into Charming’s Police Station, she smiled and waved at the officers, but ignored their warnings that she should not be entering the police captain’s office. When did she ever follow rules? Besides, they should consider her presence as a blessing seeing as this place wreaked of boredom and death. 

iPhone in hand, she walked in without knocking and closed the door behind her. “Rick.” she greeted. “Oh? Did you want doordash? I can pull up the app right now, what were you feeling?” See? Her presence also brought free food. Taking a seat in front of him, she made herself comfortable or at least tried to and crossed her legs in the process. “You shouldn’t keep your face like that, you’ll only gain more fine lines and wrinkles.” 

rick isn’t surprised by the appearance of the attorney, but he is generally amused. he doesn’t like to be bothered when he’s busy being bored in his office, a relative moment of peace, but any sort of protest won’t deter mariel. if there’s anything that he’s learned about her in the last five months she’s been here, she does what she wants—which might be a desirable trait in a lawyer, but not in a cop. he watches silently as she makes herself at home, closing the door behind her and setting down in a chair set before his desk, a remnant of a smile upon his lips. it’s hard not to be entertained by mariel, but he’s not particularly busy at the moment, so it’s easier to entertain her. 

his brows quirk at her question, he was just joking about the doordash thing—he didn’t know charming even had that, but he wouldn’t know how to use the app anyways, unless his daughter minnie deigned to show him. “you gonna buy me lunch, counselor?” rick wouldn’t necessarily be opposed, but it does seem a little intimate, doesn’t it? or maybe he’s just getting old, as evident by her next comment. his amused demeanor drops, replaced with a bored stare, but he’s not offended by the comment. he doesn’t have to look in the mirror to see how old he looks now, he feels it constantly. the world changes around him, except charming. “hmm, is there a purpose to this visit or did you make your way over here just to call me a boomer?”

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freddie‌,

a strange relief comes with recognizing the shadow she’s just called for help to — odd, how she still reserves a special kind of warmth for him, even with the way things went. her muscles relax, like she’s been holding the weight of another persona all day. she can’t quite take the mask off with him — her mask is a safety she holds on to with feral stubbornness — but she can, at least, stop pretending she’s got nothing to hide. he always had this weird effect on her, like he was able to incite an unknown calm in her: even when he himself was loaded with anger, even when she was too, and hid it so masterfully well. “aye aye, captain”, she smiles, slipping one cigarette between her lips and handing him the rest before taking his lighter. “wouldn’t want you to think i’m obstructin’ the law or somethin’”. eyes remain focused on him (mostly ‘cause she so badly wants to point out just how old he looks, walking his dog away from the noise of the town-wide party going on), and only drift away when petula gets near her feet and all the attention moves to rubbing her chin. holding the cigarette away from the dog, she turns to take another drag and tilts her head towards rick. “shouldn’t you be asleep already? heard you guys got a big day tomorrow”. her smile, though just a little bit amused, is also mean to express her sympathy: if the barbecue has half the customers hoopers’ had tonight, they’re all gonna be sore for days to come. “you know you always got a volunteer, if you need a hand. i’m afraid i wouldn’t really be believable as an officer of the law, though”. 

small towns are more of a curse than a blessing. when he came to charming from boston, he wasn’t entirely expecting a slower pace of life. he knew that the town was plagued not just by a outlaw motorcycle club but also a vicious gang, he knew it was a department that had a high turnover rate, he knew cops either quit or die in places like these, but he mistakenly thought he’d be able to handle it. after all, it was just a small town. less space, less people, less crime than a big city—that may be true in a literal sense, but the crime that they do have feels so much closer to home. the other cursed part of small town life? it’s non-stop running into someone you know. running into freddie is more on the blessing side, but there’s always that vague sense of loss that comes with her mien. not the same sort of loss as lily, a grieving loss that’s taken him years to just be comfortable living with, but the sort of loss that comes with a missed opportunity, something gone but still physically there, just out of reach. with her greeting, he walks closer to the curb and petula responds in kind, bounding up to freddie and sniffing at her happily. “thanks,” rick moves to sit next to freddie on the sidewalk, digging into his jeans pocket for the lighter. they exchange items, then rick lights his when the lighter is returned, “just don’t tell minnie about this. she thinks i quit.” most people do, and that’s mostly because he has. very rarely does rick get to indulge in a habit that wasn’t seen as so horrible just over twenty years ago; it was weirder not to smoke on the force back in boston, and rick doesn’t miss it so much as he misses everything from when he lived there. “ah, ‘tula won’t let me until she gets her evening walk.” it’ll be hard for him to get to sleep anyways, as it is for most cops. he laughs at her offering, “i would, but i’ve already roped minnie into volunteering; i suppose i should only drag one innocent into this.” taking a long drag, he looks back over his shoulder at hoopers, “big crowd in there tonight?”

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jordan‌,

jordan hadn’t banked on her weekend going to shit, but she was intent on not letting it ruin what was undoubtedly the very best part of it all: the beloved barbecue. she had always been unabashed in her beliefs that the department could do better at building community and police relations, even when voicing such thoughts landed her in the hot seat. these events, though mocked by many, meant something to her. still, that didn’t mean they didn’t have their faults. was there anyone alive that actually liked standing over a hot grill on an even hotter day? jordan didn’t think so. she was in the middle of opening another packet of paper plates when she heard him, his voice slicing through her inner string of childlike complaints. “what’re you even lookin’ at my nose for, huh?” jordan drew her brows together in faux suspicion, but cleaned her nose with the back of her forearm regardless. huh. she fought off a smile and turned back to the task at hand. “keep your eyes on your own meat, old man.” 

“it’s at the center of your face, isn’t it?” rick doesn’t regret his paternal teasing, but there’s something underneath her reaction that gives him pause. jordan’s usually the biggest cheerleader for the annual barbecue, the few in the department that actually looks forward to it. to have her look a little less than completely excited to be there is unusual. it’s not that rick hates it, not deeply. there are many good things about it, but rick doesn’t do well in social situations—his wife was the friendly one, but she’s been gone for ten years now, and they had only been in town for a few years before then. there are many good things, fostering a positive relationship with the community and reminding them that the pd hasn’t abandoned them to deal with criminal syndicates all by themselves, but all those good things aren’t at the forefront of his mind when he’s sweating in front of a big, scorching grill. “don’t say old man and meat in the same sentence, please.” rick teases again, though he does flip the burger on the grill again. he doesn’t remember who ordered it well done or with a little pink, so anyone that requests one will just get what they get. “you good, kincaid? you’re not irritating me with your enthusiasm like usual.”

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danny,

Time: Afternoon, day 3 of the Foundation Day celebration Location: Barbecue on Main St. Open to: Anyone (@charmingstarter​)

If he could, he would’ve wrapped up his visit at his mother’s place, passed by Corner Café to grab himself a coffee and went home. He was almost sure that his past-self loved the Foundation Day festival, particularly the parties. It was far too easy picturing himself, high as a kite, wandering the crowds of people, looking for his next buyer. He had been invited to the Disco the previous night and only stuck around for an hour before he dragged himself away and went home. He genuinely liked being around his friends but he doubted they would understand the place he was in mentally.

The barbecue was a different story though. It wasn’t a party scene, it was family friendly and the sun was out, so at least there was that. His mother had bugged him the whole morning, “you gotta go down and get me that casserole side with the green beans. It’s my favorite!” And every year (or so he was told), he did.

The sight of cops made him nervous. If they had found out he was an ex-drug dealer, he’d probably be thrown in jail on the spot but he was good at lying. Hell, he had eight years practice. He noticed a few of them to his left with glistening smiles, watching the attendees and stopping to chat with a few of them. Don’t pick me, he thought suddenly as he watched them through his peripheral, making his way forward, closer to the burgers and hotdogs before colliding into someone from behind, his mother’s green bean casserole splattering onto the pavement. “Ah shit…” he lowered himself to pick up the plate immediately, “that was my bad, wasn’t watching where I was going.”

so far, the barbecue has been running without a hitch, just like it does most years. even so, rick’s dreading it even as it happens. the barbecue is a good way for the police department to give back to the community, and while it bothers him to see wolves and devils so out in the open, rick tries to set it aside, at least for three whole days. it’s not like he never runs into gang or motorcycle club members, in fact it happens daily, but having to play nice is getting harder and harder as the years go by. serving them hotdogs and hamburgers with a smile on his face (or the vaguest hint of a smile that rick can muster for anyone that isn’t his daughter), fuck does it get on his nerves. it doesn’t help that sometimes they will try to provoke him, or provoke each other, but it’s all to be expected during foundation days. all he has to do is grin and bear it for three days and then he can go back to his station that feels more like a fortress than it does a kingdom.

another annoying aspect of the cookout is that rick has to make small talk. it’s not his forte, never has been. his wife lily was so much better at the being nice and diplomatic thing, but she’s been gone for a decade. rick’s just lucky that the position of captain isn’t an elected one. he’s talking with mr. paulsen, discussing their grills at home (because that’s all men of his age seemed to be able to talk about), when there’s a sudden commotion to his left. arms crossed over his chest, they fall to his sides when he turns and observes a man trying to pick up food off of the ground. he can see the girl he’s run into, picking green beans out of her hair and looking like she’s about to cry. rick stares for a moment, having the not very cop-like thought to let those two sort it out themselves before he starts walking over to them anyways.

“you guys alright?” rick asks, looking from the girl to the man. she says something about her hair before stomping over to her friends. with her gone, rick turns back to the man and then leans over to a nearby picnic table to grab some napkins, holding them out to him. “you got some on your chin, son. you really in that much of a hurry to eat some casserole or do you have some place special to be?”

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freddie,

location: hoopers, day 2 — founders’ day celebrations. status: open! tw: alcohol, smoking. @charmingstarter

she calls this one the liquid hour — not for the amount of drinks poured (far too many and yet somehow never enough). the end of her shift, a fading, almost invisible hint of gold at the horizon: that’s a day melting into the other, the night turning shapeless and mellow, a liquor to get drunk on. she sits on the sidewalk, next to crates of empty boxes someone else will take care of, come morning. somewhere, a few streets over, she can hear the noise and voices of the late party-goers, and what’s left of the booming echoes of the main street party. it brings a smile to her face — if she wasn’t so achingly tired (and if she was ten years younger) she’d find an unexpected comfort in the mayhem, the closeness of bodies, the sweat and the booze. right now, her greatest comfort is the last cigarette in her pack, the last bottle of beer for the night, and a breeze caressing the skin on the back of her neck, still sweaty from the mighty workload she’s faced. and this is all she needs, really —— too tired and yet too wound up to go to sleep, she finds comfort in this limbo. but her lighter doesn’t share the same opinion, and the spark won’t come: she tries aimlessly to light it up, until she’s forced to give up with an exhausted sigh. shadows of customers still hanging around move from the corner of her eye. “hey ——”, she calls with a smile. “—— any chance you got a light? mine’s dead and i might just cry if i don’t get my cigarette break, tonight”. 

rick’s already so tired of the foundation days celebrations and there’s still one more day left, the biggest day for the police department. with providing the equipment and manning the grill, rick will be up early in the morning and up late into the night, but he won’t be following the mass of people that run off to the rendezvous club afterwards. not just that he wouldn’t be caught dead in the wolves’-run club (unless, of course, he was raiding it), but rick is going to go home tomorrow the very second he can get away with it and sleep for hours. he’d be asleep now, but his dog petula demands lengthy walks when she wants them, and rick is growing to hate being in his home when his daughter minnie isn’t—funny how he was so accustomed to it for ten years, her absence. she’s only been here for a few months now and already he’s so used to her presence that to be without it feels uncomfortable. that was the problem, rick didn’t let people into his life often, but when he did, it was hard to let them go again. and he’ll have to let her go again, someday. the golden desert sunshine is quickly disappearing, and despite living in a town filled with enemies, both devil and wolf, rick doesn’t feel scared. he’s got his dog, of course, and a trusty service pistol, but there’s a certain level of respect that the position of captain gives him. if not respect, at least his enemies (to use such a shakespearean word) know killing a captain is a life sentence in federal prison. no, rick is pretty comfortable in charming. even comfortable to date, albeit briefly, awhile ago. that thought only comes when he comes across a familiar redhead sitting on the sidewalk, less of a lost love and more of a mutually agreed decision to end something that didn’t really get a chance to begin. his dog trailing behind him, freddie’s speaking before he can, and he smiles fondly at her. “i got a light if you’ve a got one of those for me.”

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location : foundation day celebration, day 3, barbecue grill. / with : @kincaidpd​

rick is a notorious grump, and any of his officers that have been around for more than a few foundation days know that the closing barbecue dinner thrown by the department is heavily dreaded by rick. he spends the weeks up to it, discussing planning with the town council, loudly grumbling alone in his office. when it actually comes to the day, however, he knows how to put a smile on his face and turn steaks on the grill with very minimal complaining. the cheesy apron he always wears is tied securely around his waist and he’s flipping someone’s burger when he turns his head to jordan. looking at her for a long moment, head cocking to the left, there’s a hint of a smile. “kincaid, you’ve got barbecue sauce on your nose.”

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edward‌,

Edward’s reflexes were really fast, it was probably because he was in the police force for more than 10 years if he wasn’t mistaken, even if he didn’t start going out in the field right away. He was trained before, trained to be a good cop, to be better at aiming, but being in the field, definitely also helped with both his reflexes and his aim. However, when he was distracted, there were times that he either ended up tripping, dropping something, or worse, dropping something on someone else. That time, none of it happened, but he did get hurt, as a kid was playing one of the games, and the ball ended up ricocheting and hitting Eddie right on one of his most sensitive spots, somewhere that only another man would know how much it hurts. He placed his hand on the place, and fell on his back, “Jeez, kid, you’re strong for a toddler.”

@charmingstarter​

charming’s foundation day celebrations were a sore subject for rick. he loves providing for the community and letting his officers shine with the closing cookout, but if rick could spend all of his free time in his house alone with his dog, he would. he pretty much does. still, it’s only three days, so rick just grins and bears it. plus it’s nice to have all his officers in the same place, even if that place is shared by both devils and wolves. rick attends all three days but doesn’t do much, not really the type to play a game unless he’s goaded into it and he doesn’t really have the stomach for rides anymore, so he spends most of his time talking to people—and boy do the citizens of charming love to talk. standing by a game booth, he’s been listening to mrs. stevenson discuss the issue with her pecan tree in her backyard for a good ten minutes when he suddenly hears someone knocked over behind him. whipping his head around to see the commotion, he finds one of his officers, edward foster, on the ground. suppressing a smirk, rick steps up to edward and holds out his hand to help him up, “you alright, foster?” he looks towards the child and the emcee of the booth, “i think they both deserve a stuffed animal for that.”

[protectserve]

minnie‌,

moving back home to live with her cop dad was not really what minnie had in mind when her aunt gave her the talk about how she’s missing out on getting to know him. aunt ziyi could be harsh like that. for a woman who seemed to always have her head in the clouds and blew through a series of irresponsible boyfriends, she saw the truth in things and wasn’t afraid to call you out on it. especially when you were someone she loved. minnie on the other hand, ever her father’s daughter, was content to vacation in the isle of denial. checking in with her father only when necessary until auntie z spelled it out for her clearly: someday, that poor man is going to die, too. then you’ll really wish you hadn’t wasted all those years mad at him for doing what’s best for you. sometimes her mother’s sister could be painfully right.

still, she had pictured herself in some funky loft downtown ( did charming even have loft apartments? it didn’t matter ) with her own separate life. her first night back home, she spent lying upside down on her bed, letting her head dangle off the foot so she could really see how askew everything is. the radio station pay is jack shit, but at least they let her play whatever she wants ( within reason ). if she wants her own apartment, she’ll no doubt have to get a second job. this place, even more than the town of charming itself, feels like a cemetery for all her long forgotten selves and her bedroom is a carefully curated shrine put together by her father in memoriam. it has all her favorite things from when he knew her most. 

peering into the darkness of her closet, she spent her first night home wondering if her polly pockets were still there–loyal, hiding–a bunch of mini minnies living in their carefully contained worlds. they haven’t been opened in so long, they don’t even know that their mother is dead. walking back home from the station, headphones omitting all other sounds, that night seems like a dream. as she enters the house, there’s no tula to greet her and she figures that means her dad’s taken the dog out, so she doesn’t even bother taking off the headphones as she searches for a bowl of ice cream, drops up her bag and heads up to her room. 

she doesn’t take the headphones off until she realizes her door is ajar and, even then she only exposes one ear before she realizes her dad’s inside of it. she should be angry, but she really doesn’t know what to say. what are you doing in my room? sounds so fucking juvenile. instead she takes her headphones all the way off and crosses the room with her bowl of ice cream, sitting across from him in her desk chair as he speaks. when she finally does ask, “what are you doing in my room?” it’s not accusatory. instead it sounds more like she’s asking him why he’s reading in the dark, as if he’d spent all day reading and hadn’t thought to turn on a light when dusk came. 

taking a bite of ice cream, she mulls over his question, considering if she really wants to room to change. “i don’t know. it feels sort of weird to change it.” she admits. maybe not knowing one another anymore makes it easier to be their true selves. “it’s like building a mall over a cemetery or something.” she doesn’t mean it to be morbid and immediately regrets the analogy, wishing she’d said something different. “i didn’t know you were home.” she admits, changing the subject. “i would’ve brought you some ice cream too.”

rick remembers the days when entering minnie’s room would elicit an irritated scream and the silent treatment for a whole afternoon. he remembers when the love his daughter had for him slowly then suddenly went from the regular adoring admiration children had for their parents to all out teenage angst; he had plenty himself, though he also had two older brothers to guide him through it. that last part, he didn’t experience it as long as other fathers, because the normal troubles of high school turned into the loss of her mother. now, caught laying on her bed with his dog, she only seems mildly confused. should he have expected that sort of reaction? rick doesn’t know what to expect of minnie anymore. he can’t anticipate her emotions anymore, like he could when she was a child. he has to get to know her all over again, as an adult, when he’s only ever known the child version of her, and briefly as a teenager. (that’s all his fault, though, it’s always his own fault.) 

he still doesn’t look as she crosses the room and sets down on her desk chair, his shoulders shrugging lightly even with his hands still behind his neck. “sorry.” rick apologizes, trying to think of a response that doesn’t put a spotlight on how long they’ve been absent in each other’s lives. it’s the reality of the situation but they’re both experts at dancing around the subject, no amount of time will erase either trait from them. “i came to see if you were home and i got a bit nostalgic.” does it sound like he’s nostalgic for a time when she wasn’t living here, just a few months ago? shit. “i remember the day we all painted it together.”

his house felt more like a dollhouse, not that he had intimate knowledge of them, his mother’s children were all boys. what he knew of them, it was analogous to his home. not so much artificial as it was forgotten, dusty no matter how many times you wiped it clean. he hadn’t meant for it to become such a tomb, as if the clock stopped the moment lily took her last breath, a crypt that only has living ghosts. there’s barely any life left inside, despite the two humans and a dog that inhabit it, but rick never meant for it to be that way. there was no conscious decision to keep the couch his wife picked out and the paint colors twelve-year-old minnie liked, it just never occurred to him to change it. and at the end of the day it’s just another reminder that all of this is temporary—minnie’s not staying for long, and when she does leave, everything will remain the way it was before she even came back.

despite how morbid her analogy is, in a place where death is never the topic of conversation but always lurking in the corners like easily ignored mold, rick laughs at it good-naturedly. minnie has a wit drier than her father’s, that much rick could never forget, that much will never change. he lets the comment go unaddressed, he’d have to think about how everything in this house needs an upgrade and it’s not just minnie’s bedroom that’s a cemetery. rick never considered himself a sentimental man before lily’s death, but he nearly cried when he had to replace the oven four years ago. his own officers might agree with that assessment, sentimental, but he doubts minnie would ever think of him that way. he doesn’t want to know what minnie thinks of him, because what she thinks of him is probably on par on how he sees himself. what lily loved about rick, he’s never actually been sure, but those parts must’ve died with her. he’ll never take a hard enough look at himself to realize he thinks he’s unlovable, despite the therapist he sees every other week knowing that for years.

finally he sits up from the bed, petula roused lightly from her sleep but quickly laying her head back down. “i knocked off early. everyone’s mostly focused on foundation day coming up and planning that shit makes me want to shoot myself.” rick darkly jokes, his own morbid bon mot. it’s weird to curse in front of his daughter, but she’s an adult now, and he let out more swears in front of her than he remembers. even with his dark joke, rick shows up every year to man the barbecue pit as the captain always does. “are you thinking about going?” he doesn’t remember if she’s ever been to the foundation day celebration when she was a girl. then he gestures towards her ice cream, “is that all you’re going to have for dinner or should i get out some takeout menus?”