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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Face Off || Morgan & Cece

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Cece go digging for buried witchy treasure. Cece faces more than she bargained for.

CONTAINS: gun (salt rounds, not fired), shenanigans

Blanche had told Morgan that having an object, especially one belonging to the spirit in life, might help the seance go better. Morgan knew from the summoning that bones would probably be the most ideal if there was such a thing, but the idea of planning a trip to Texas ahead of the one she had already scheduled between the anniversaries of her parents’ deaths was more than she could bear. The next best thing? Finding Agnes Bachman’s trove of witchcraft. “So, fun fact, I actually tried to dig this up before, but I got attacked by some wild vampires and had to hole up in that shack until dawn,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Cece. “But that’s why we’re coming back here in broad daylight! Besides, I think this is still sort of on my property line?” She gestured to the pile of rubble around across the street and the brown, barren field between it and where they stood in the Bend, shovels in hand, beneath a suspiciously robust tree. Morgan tried to run the distance measurements in her head. “Maybe not, but that’s gonna be our story if anyone comes asking. But, you know, probably not.” She stuck the shovel into the ground with her foot, pleasantly surprised when it broke the ground with ease. Zombie strength had its advantages sometimes. “So, how’ve you been?”

Drinking and researching a stolen box with Morgan? A-okay. Breaking into a woman’s home to steals some books? Great time. But Cece might have to draw the line at the physical labor. It wasn’t the trespassing on property or potential danger. It wasn’t even the casual mention of vampires attacking Morgan the last time she was here. It was mostly just the digging that Cece wasn’t up for. “We tend to break the law whenever we hang out now,” Cece mentioned, digging her own shovel into the ground and leaning against it, “Not complaining. Just a fun observation. Girls really do just want to have fun apparently.” While digging holes wasn’t one of those things that Cece considered to be much fun, the promise of some sort of buried treasure had certainly piqued her interest. “Aside from the whole being blown up in a Morgue thing, worse than that is dealing with Regan’s replacement.” Cece made fake vomiting noises for far longer than necessary and then forced herself to recompose, “Otherwise I am freaking phenomenal. Clearly you’re living your best life. Loving the Holes vibes that we have going on. So what exactly are we here for today?”

“I heard about that,” Morgan said, wincing. “Regan’s just having a time and a half right now. Hopefully it’ll just, you know, be temporary. Haven’t heard any stories about the new boss, though. Is he, what? Evil? Creepy? Mean? What’s the likelihood of your being able to hex him without him noticing? I put a monkey’s paw on Eye of Newt for a little while, and that was pretty fun.” She reached into her bag and passed Cece a thermos of mulled cider. She could see how, well, not well her share of the digging was going, and aside from the magic ability and know how to work on identifying their finds, Morgan had mostly asked her along for the company. “Here. Have some of this and sit back, I think it only takes one gal to dig a hole. When she’s dead anyway.” Morgan stuck her shovel in deeper, flinging dirt behind her. “And we’re after great great grandma Agnes’ trove of magic. She left home with one bag after the curse started taking her family, which means everything in her trove got left behind in good ol’ White Crest.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Mostly, I want something special of hers for a seance, but it’s gonna be pretty neat to see what kind of stuff she used for her magic back in olden times, right?”

“No, god, even worse.” Cece rolled her eyes. Rickers was the last thing she needed to talk about. “I can handle evil or creepy. He’s way too personable. Keeps telling me about his grandkids. It’s insufferable.” Usually, Cece welcomed casual conversation of any kind. She was a social creature after all, she liked the company of others. But something about that man made her want to jump into a river. “I could hex him so easily. He’s so gullible. Moron.” She wasn’t about to let Rickers ruin the fun though, and instead focused on Morgan’s time with Eye of Newt, “Amazing. I love being friends. Do I mention that enough?” Cece questioned, taking the thermos that Morgan passed over and taking a long sip of the alcoholic beverage. “So you’re saying you just want me to sit back, drink and chat? You get me, Morgan.” Cece happily obliged, leaning back against the grass and watching Morgan use that superhuman strength to dig holes deeper into the ground with a certain fascination. She had always wondered what having super strength must be like. Sounded dope. “Good ol Gram? Let’s hope she left behind something fun. Can’t say that I’d be thrilled about finding some magically glued dentures or alchemical ointment for her joint pain.”

“I love being friends with you too,” Morgan said, smiling bright. There was a certain specific ease with Cece that was hard to articulate to others. Their magic philosophy was different, but neither of them took themselves so seriously that it was a problem. And sharing a lack of compunctions about the law and uses of violence to get out of tight spaces was more important between friends who wanted to stay honest with each other. Morgan wasn’t even sure if Cece had a judgemental bone in her body, except for, you know, reckless cruelty like any halfway decent not-fae. But Morgan’s harm ritual wasn’t reckless. She was full of very specific intent, and every care was being taken. And giving Agnes closure with the news she was deviating the woman who’d condemned her to a painful death? Made for some very thoughtful icing on the cake. “Oh, it gets better than that,” Morgan said, grinning as she shoveled back more dirt. “She was just in her twenties when she left home. So this should hopefully have all the fun shit. Well, whatever fun amounted to in the 1890’s. Maybe it’ll be magic ointment for that poofy old-timey hair. Or old beauty charms? I’d love to see what baby witches got up to back then, like what was magic education even like then?”

Cece liked thinking about witches throughout the years. There was something fascinating about studying how witches evolved with the rest of the times, as well as how spells did. If spellcasters were ever a legitimate field of study, Cece might actually consider going back to school. For now, she’d have to settle through learning about magic through any witches she knew with a long line of witches in her family. “Great question. Can’t say that my witchy upbringing was exactly conventional. If my parents were spellcasters, being adopted didn’t exactly help me learn about it as a kid.” Cece had of course wondered what life might have been like had she actually grown up learning about magic from a young age. “My first exposure was from a coven. A very non-traditional one.”

“Your coven wasn’t with your parents?” Morgan asked curiously. She’d heard them mentioned in passing enough times that she’d just assumed it was at least partially a family thing. Morgan started digging, stopped, and looked at Cece quizzically again. “Wait, so you are this good without having to study your whole life?” She shovelled a few more times. “Jeez, are you some kind of magic prodigy?” She had a decent sized hole going. A few more feet deeper and she’s start spreading outward and--clang! Morgan grinned. “I guess this means you get to pick a prize from grandma’s treasure box. At least something in here should go to someone who can actually use it. But holy shit, Cece. I know I say this a lot when you’re doing me favors, but you’re seriously amazing.” She started working double time until the trunk, just as impressive as you would expect from your average 19th century well-to-do family. Morgan pulled it free just with brute zombie strength and dragged it up from the hole. It was heavy, “Now, before I literally jinx myself, do you think you can run something on this baby to dispel any magic seals and protection? As my ancestor, I’m fairly confident she wouldn’t throw this in the ground without protections.”

Cece shook her head, “Nope. My adopted parents had no clue about my witchy background. I didn’t figure out until like sixteen.” Cece shrugged. She had never considered herself to be uncommonly talented when it came to magic. She was aware that she was able to take care of herself under stressful circumstances but the thought never went much further than that. “Very funny,” Cece let out a sarcastic laugh, “I’m hardly a prodigy. The nice thing about moving around with a travelling coven is that I got to learn from all kinds of witches that specialized in different things. Plus being around nothing but other witches all the time gave me lots of chances to practice.” Morgan finally found the box she had been digging for and pulled it easily from the ground. It landed on the grass with a loud thud and Cece whistled, “Damn girl, those muscles though.” Cece sat up and eyed the box. It was larger than Cece thought it was going to be. Honestly, she was pretty curious about what was inside. “Let me take a peak and see what I can sniff out” Cece rubbed her hands together and crawled over to the box, rubbing her palm across it and feeling the magical energy emanating from it. “There’s definitely something going on here. Give me a few minutes to try to get rid of it.”

Morgan was familiar with the number of ways you could talk small magic into showing itself. In another life, her old life, she would’ve offered some ground thistle and raw energy to do it herself. But Cece had a home brew with the stuff she needed. A little Latin later, the potion absorbed into the wood, and the lock, apparently just an illusion, disappeared from sight. “I know you’re not a coven gal anymore, Cece, but I’d do you a solid anytime if you asked.” Out of habit, fae promise, rose to her lips, casual and earnest, but somewhere on its way up her throat, Morgan remembered Chloe in Lydia’s basement and swallowed her words back down, feeling sick.

A layer of dry flowers and fragrant herbs coated the items. Morgan had to sweep them all away to get to the rest. There were some things she expected, such as a handwritten grimoire, and some she didn’t, like an old party dress and petticoats. Morgan didn’t know anything about enchanting textiles, but she set them carefully aside just in case. They must have mattered to Agnes in order to be included in her trove. Beneath this were more papers, some torn from other books, ink and fountain pens, a few alchemical circles painted crudely on tanned hides, and a lot of jewelry and talismans. “So, she’s my great great grandma, so I get the pretty dress and the books, but you, my wonderful partner in crime, can pick something you like from the rest. I still haven’t thanked you for helping me go against that murder alchemist, so don’t be shy.”

As Morgan looked through the chest, Cece eyed the contents from far away. The chest’s magic had been strong, so it made sense to think that whatever was inside had been valuable to her grandmother. As far as Cece was concerned, that all belonged to Morgan. But aside from a few off limits items, Morgan seemed to think otherwise. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you could find some use for them. Somewhere.” But even as she said the words she slid closer to get a better peak at the contents. She pulled out a few things, including a vial of liquid that glowed a bright red color, “Hm. This is peculiar” Cece questioned, holding it up against the sun. She felt a prickling against her fingertips from holding the bottle. She eventually decided to uncap the thing, sniffing at its contents and jolting from the sudden sensation. “Hm. That shit is strong. Wonder what this stuff does?”

Morgan was flipping through the books, unable to resist the urge to find something interesting. She had to remind herself that it was all useless to her, pure sentimental and academic value, but even the method of preserving alchemical circles was fascinating. What did they use the hides for? Practice? Regular exercise? Were there research experiments in here like what Ruth had done? There were notes and letters in here too, some written in a kind of code, others in Latin. Looking at all of this, Morgan realized she didn’t actually know Agnes Bachman at all. She was the family scapegoat, but she was also just a girl when she left all this stuff behind, too terrified of being the cause of her family’s suffering to stay another year. Poor thing, she didn’t realize that Constance had covered them all. She hadn’t needed to make herself alone on top of everything else. “What did you find? Anything good?” She looked over her shoulder and— “What the fuck, who the hell are you!” She fell back with shock and fumbled for her salt pistol, aiming it at the stranger. Morgan hadn’t even heard her approach. It had to look enough like a normal one to keep the stranger stalking them on her toes, right? “Where’s my friend? What is—Cece! Cece!”

Bored with whatever the liquid was, Cece discarded it back into the pile of unclaimed goodies and moved on to see what else Agnes had to offer. Cece realized that aside from the fact that they had been spellcasters and the curse, she didn’t know all that much about Morgan’s family. Learning a bit about her family through these belongings was more interesting than Cece would be willing to admit without a few drinks. Way too sentimental. She heard Morgan from over her shoulder and didn’t even look back as she began answering, “I don’t know what a lot of it is actually. I’ll need to do some-” she was cut off by her friend’s scream. Morgan was freaking out, tumbling backwards and pulling a fucking gun on her? “What the fuck Morgan? What do you mean who am I? Why do you have a gun pointed at me!” Cece waved her hands wildly, half up in the air in surrender and half accusingly towards Morgan. “Your friend is right here, wondering if she’s about to get capped by a dead girl! You suddenly lose vision or something?”

Morgan scrambled to her feet, still holding out the salt pistol with trembling hands. The woman was middle aged, wild eyed, and a heck of a lot taller than Cece had ever been. She wasn’t sure where she got off trying to pretend they were one and the same. Her angular features had none of Cece’s stubborn charm. They gave the woman a look that was off-kilter even unnerving as she waved her arms around and cried out in her raspy voice. “I am not kidding, whatever magic bullshit you did, some summoning trick, o-or—I don’t know! But you aren’t keeping her!” Morgan shouted I am not losing one more friend to my personal bullshit, you got it? You—” It came on her slowly: the woman’s clothes looked a little like Cece’s but also...not. And she had Cece’s keychain, and there was a bottle at her feet, not quite close right, dripping slowly into the ground. Morgan slowly lowered her pistol, not quite ready to give up the pretense. “If you’re really Cece, then how do we know each other?” She asked.

Something was wrong. Whether that something was with Morgan or with Cece herself was still unclear. Cece stood up, Morgan backing away again but not moving the pistol from it’s target. “Can you point the gun away from me? This isn’t the Wild West.” Though something was clearly off, Cece hadn’t pieced it together yet. For whatever reason, Morgan seemed to think Cece wasn’t who she claimed to be. Was there some illusion? Cece stared at her hands, vaguely aware that something seemed different but realizing that she didn’t look at her hands enough to realize what the difference might be anyways. “How do we know each other? I didn’t know I was signing up for a pop quiz tonight.” Cece laughed, but clearly Morgan wasn’t joking, “Former roomies, forever besties, current hostage.” Cece quipped, “Care to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Morgan lowered the salt pistol, her face melting, touched. “Aw, you consider us besties?” Her face twisted into an expression of cringe. On Cece, that was endearing. On a crazed woman who looked like she was nearing fifty, it was a little...odd. Maybe sad. Morgan tried to find the words to explain to her friend how bewildering this looked from her perspective. Whose face was this? How did Cece change her face and not...know. “Okay, okay…” she started, tucking her pistol away. “Uh, fun fact, the pistol is salt rounds only. I just, you know, couldn’t be too careful. Also: what happened to your face! I said you could take something home, not give yourself a weird makeover!” She fumbled for her phone, still keeping her distance in case this was all a trick and she was just being stupid and gullible. “You did something!” She put the selfie camera on and held it out for Maybe-Cece to see. “A very, very weird something! Are you...mind or body swapped? Are you glamoured into one of my dead relatives? You aren’t really...I mean, look! What would you think if you were me!”

“Of course I do. There’s not many others I’ve broken into a house and been held at gunpoint at!” Despite the awkwardness of currently being held at gunpoint, Cece couldn’t stop the lilt in her voice as she confirmed that the two were basically besties. They had been through quite a bit considering they hadn’t known each other at the beginning of the year. “Well I actually do feel marginally better knowing I would have only gotten blasted with salt. Thank god I’m not a ghost.” Cece laughed, taking steps closer to Morgan following the whole debacle. “I didn’t do anything! Just rooted around in your grandma’s chest and-” Cece stopped talking when Morgan offered her phone camera towards her and Cece got a look at who was showing up on the screen. Except this was very clearly not Cece. “What the fuck?” Cece jumped back, visibly shaken for the first in what felt like a truly long time. “Who the fuck am I? Why the fuck do I look like this?” Cece began rubbing her hands against her arms, chanting a dispelling glamour effect to herself and then looked back at the camera. Nothing. “Why isn’t it going away!?”

Morgan’s face quirked into a smile. She wasn’t as vulnerable or demonstrative with Cece as she knew she could’ve tried to be. Cece was just so breathtakingly together and at ease with whatever chaos came her way, like it was no more than a fly she could spike out of her sphere with a swipe of her hand. However much she accepted the mess Morgan dragged them into, Morgan worried the limit of ‘too much’ was just around the corner. But here they were, standing over a hole in the middle of the woods with a salt pistol and dug up treasures and a haywire spell between them—and still friends. “Ghost, creepy middle aged lady, whatever comes next, I’m still glad we’re friends,” Morgan said.

But, obviously, Cece being her friend as Cece was probably best. “Idea one: this is some weird subconscious thing and you’ve got some stuff about your age or your size to deal with. Idea two: you are wearing the face of one of my dead relatives, or their neighbors, or...something. But either way, there’s a solution! We just don’t know it yet. But we will and you will look...w-well, you don’t look bad, really, when you, uh, think about it, but just more...you.” She winced and came around the side of the hole to offer Cece a hug.

Morgan offered a list of options to Cece, who hated all of them. “Definitely not subconscious. I accepted my height many years ago.” Cece waved the first away but backtracked, “That being said. I get that objectively I’m not that tall still but I do feel like a tall glass or water.” The second option seemed likely. Perhaps it was a type of hex that was put on something she had touched by Morgan’s grandma. If that was the case it was some bullshit hex. “Well either it’s a strong ass hex or some new type of magic I haven’t worked with before.” That frustrated Cece more than the hex itself. She could handle looking like this Milf. What she didn’t like was not knowing how to fix it immediately. Morgan came around for a hug and as their arms wrapped around each other Cece smiled, “You know we’re kind of like the same height now.”

“You do have the energy of a tall woman, I guess it’s just a little closer to being official now,” Morgan said with a smirk. “You’ve got, what, a whole inch on me now?” She raised her hand to touch the top of Cece’s head, fluffing some of the brown hair falling in front of her face. “Stars, if you are wearing one of my ancestors’ faces, does this make you like a temporary cousin? Temporary grandma?” She smirked at the idea. “Sorry. Let’s take everything and hit the books at your place, huh? Do some old fashioned trial and error experimenting. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out.”

Though her head was still spinning at the prospect of looking twice her actual age, Cece tried to compose herself. This had been the most flustered she had allowed herself to be for many, many years. She had no interest in completely losing her cool. Morgan was right, they would fix this. Eventually. Maybe it had a time limit, and Cece would simply wake up in a day or two back to her old, blonde self. In the meantime, how was she supposed to explain this to her roommates? “That’s a good start. Whatever’s going on, I clearly don’t have nearly enough alcohol in my system to deal with it.” Right about now Cece was sure that she had far too much blood in her alcohol system. Depending on how long this lasted, it might be time for a never ending party. “I like to think I just became your cool aunt. I think the moniker suits me.”

#wr cece #wr chatzy #wr cece chatzy #face off #gun tw #wickedswriting

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funface2 · 5 years

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Harry Potter: 10 Hilarious Hufflepuff Memes That Are Too Funny – Screen Rant

When it comes to the houses in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry it seems like Hufflepuff house is the one that is constantly being left behind and left out of the conversation altogether. They barely get acknowledged in the Harry Potter series, they barely have any merchandise in the real world, and they’re barely even honored in the most enjoyable and universally beloved internet pastime, memes.

RELATED: Harry Potter: 10 Movie Villains You Wouldn’t Think Are More Powerful Than Voldemort (But Actually Are)

Hufflepuffs across the world have clearly learned to take this blatant disrespect on the chin, but this aggression will not stand. Even the humble badger deserves its chance to shine and be ridiculed by amateur artists on the internet, and Hufflepuff is just as meme-able as any other house in Hogwarts.

Everything on planet earth has been memed in some way or another but here are ten memes about Hufflepuff house that would do even Helga Hufflepuff herself very proud.

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10 Sad, But True

Harry Potter‘s author J.K. Rowling really goes out of her way to laud the often unsung hero of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, house Hufflepuff. However, if she really believed what she was saying then she wouldn’t have made Hufflepuff the dumpster for leftover students who don’t seem relevant to the story at all.

Hufflepuff had to wait for over a decade for its chance to shine! The fact that Newt Scamander, the lead character in the current wizarding world franchise, is a Hufflepuff does do a lot to restore the house’s reputation though, and maybe kids will finally be excited to be sorted into Hufflepuff on Pottermore.

9 He Was Born To Play Cedric

Hey hey hey, let’s be fair to Hufflepuff here. It’s pretty much a guarantee that every house in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would have mindlessly hated Twilight.

It was a pretty unfortunate downgrade to go from Cedric Diggory, the most iconic of all Hufflepuffs, to Edward Cullen, and Robert Pattinson has never been shy about sharing his disdain for the film franchise that made him a superstar.

Even if the average Hufflepuff was confronted with a vampire, they’d be wanting to kill it, not marry it immediately after graduating from Hogwarts, and the world probably would have been better for it.

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8 Just Because They Don’t Get It That Doesn’t Mean They Don’t Deserve It

If you truly care about doing the right thing for the right reasons then being rewarded for it shouldn’t matter, but Hufflepuff house must have won the Hogwarts house cup at least once in the past thousand years, right?

RELATED: Harry Potter: 5 Most Powerful Slytherin Wizards (& 5 Worst)

However, when you’ve got Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw always fighting for the spotlight it’s easy to get lost in the shuffle, especially if aggressively showing off is not your style. But on the flip side, Hufflepuff is the only house whose main house value is working hard, and that has got to count for something in the grand scheme of things.

7 He Absolutely Did Not

Nymphadora Tonks was a Hufflepuff and a queen! Hufflepuffs don’t have the best reputation when it comes to Hogwarts houses, but the very existence of Tonks should cancel out nearly any criticism that any Huffle haters could throw at the house of the badger.

Valuing the traits of fair treatment and honor shouldn’t have earned Hufflepuff a bad reputation but their willingness to take even the bottom of the barrel of Hogwarts students didn’t serve them well in that regard.

However, Tonks undeniably would have been a superstar student in any house and exhibits the best side of every Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin ideal, so the fact that she is a Hufflepuff says a lot.

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6 At Least It Wasn’t Slytherin

Okay, well when most people are fantasizing about going to a magical school they want to go all out, right? Hufflepuff is the most low key house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and while its ideals are probably the most moral out of any house there aren’t many Harry Potter fans who are dreaming about being sorted into the house that you wind up in if you just don’t have any traits that fit into the other three houses.

RELATED: Harry Potter: 10 Hilarious Voldemort Logic Memes That Are Too Funny

And yes, in the real world being the kind of person who is fair and unafraid of hard work is great, but no one wants to be working hard in their own fantasy.

5 What’s So Wrong With Muggles

Do the people creating these memes even understand the world of Harry Potter though? Every other house has particular traits and abilities that they choose their students for but with Hufflepuff, it’s not about ability, it’s about a willingness to put in the work and learn as much as possible.

This constant negative attitude towards Hufflepuff not only undermines the ideals behind this Hogwarts house, it pretty much undermines the entire purpose of school, doesn’t it? It’s tragic but true that most schools will laud students for just being naturally good at things but the entire point of education is to actually learn, right?

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4 Savage, Dad

I mean in fairness to the boy who lived, it’s not like he had any good role models when it came to parenting. Harry Potter eventually did wind up with a Slytherin child, which probably wasn’t his preference but he may have at least preferred that over Hufflepuff.

RELATED: Harry Potter: 10 Hilarious Hagrid Logic Memes That Are Too Funny

However, Harry Potter and most other Gryffindors (or really, probably every student in every other house besides Hufflepuff) might have benefited from a more down to earth education and more egalitarian treatment. Hufflepuff only has its negative reputation because they refuse to pick and choose their students while excluding the others that they deem unworthy.

3 Some Kids Do Just Want To Chill Though

Hey, plenty of people want to be in Hufflepuff Weasley! Now, this is the problem when you view the world of Harry Potter through the eyes of the golden trio.

Yes, their acts of heroism and skill when it comes to magic are extraordinary. But to be frank, their life experiences are insane. They’re like those dudes in Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle who have to make every single thing they do into an extreme sport.

Yes, the Hufflepuffs are the unsung heroes of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but some kids actually do just go to school so they can learn.

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2 Such Wow

While the badger seems like a great mascot for the majestic house of Hufflepuff, Helga Hufflepuff also chose that to represent her house before the existence of doge.

In the world of memes, it’s exceedingly difficult to create a meme that actually has any lasting power, but doge is a simple and enduring classic that absolutely everyone can enjoy. Hufflepuffs are big on the simple things in life, so a Hufflepuff house crest that is as simple, easy to understand, and as straight to the point as this elegant and dignified meme seems like something that would be right up Hufflepuff’s alley.

1 Hufflepuffs Must Be Protected

Most people wouldn’t expect Hufflepuffs and Slytherins to be natural allies, let alone friends, but it’s easy to see why the house of the snake might feel a little extra protective over the house of the badger.

Gryffindors and Ravenclaws have a tendency to assume that Slytherins are just bad people, but Hufflepuffs are generally the kind of people who are willing to give everyone a chance. And while Slytherins have a reputation for being kind of elitist, the very fact that they like to buddy up with Hufflepuffs would indicate that maybe they’re not nearly as upon themselves as people would like to assume.

NEXT: Harry Potter: 10 Slytherin Memes That Prove It’s The Sneakiest House

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Bài viết Harry Potter: 10 Hilarious Hufflepuff Memes That Are Too Funny �� Screen Rant đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Funface.

from Funface https://funface.net/funny-memes/harry-potter-10-hilarious-hufflepuff-memes-that-are-too-funny-screen-rant/

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Downtown Detectives || Morgan & Marley

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @detectivedreameater & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Marley meets another detective.

CONTAINS: Proof Morgan should stick to her day job.

If you’re looking for a sketchy witch, you go to the sketchy witch place in town. Morgan loitered around Amity Row for hours, hoping to spot one of the faces she and Winston had pulled from Coraline’s social media feed. She hadn’t been settled in White Crest very long, just a few months like Morgan, and there were only so many people who were old enough to have the kind of experience to alchemize iron in a body where there should be none. Maybe the parents of one of her college friends, maybe someone from her new D&D group, or-- Morgan’s brow quirked as she saw someone walk out of Stone’s Philosophy. She wasn’t close to the man, but she recognized him from enough faculty meetings to recognize him as Dr. Fridlund from the Chemistry department. He was the kind of guy that gave kids extra credit just for wearing a school shirt on Friday, the kind of guy you would think to trust. The kind of guy who you might meet in some sketchy secondary location because just in time to flex his secret alchemy skills.

Morgan saw him making his way to Eye of Newt, which had started seeing a sudden uptick in business after Vera figured out she’d been slipped a Monkey’s Paw. Morgan made a beeline for the door, power walking faster than any suburban mom ever had, and cutting him off at the door. “Hey! Doctor Fridlund, right? Or, Eric, can I call you Eric? It’s just so weird and great to see you around this part of town! I kinda miss the old Chem Crew a little.”

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Eric Fridlund adjusted his polo and leaned back on his heels to put some distance between them.

“Morgan Beck? I took on some of the intro classes last semester, because of the TA shortage? We were at a faculty lunch together? You were really excited to talk to me because your mom and I are from the same city!” Excited was a bit of a stretch, but she was going to make him feel as bad as possible for not remembering her. “It’s such a shame we don’t get to see each other more, but you’re busy taking on extra undergrad tutoring sessions, right? I feel like I heard that from one of my summer kids. Coraline Adams?”

Eric Fridlund pretended to understand exactly what the strange woman was saying and tried to ease his way around her. “Of course! So great to run into you. Anyways, gotta--oh.”

Morgan shifted, blocking his way once again. “Actually, I had a weird question for you!”

This part of town was, ironically, where Marley felt the most at home. And the most powerful. Walking around Amity with a badge on her hip and sunglasses firmly shielding her eyes, people shrunk out of her way, or gave her strange looks. That was fine with her, she liked it that way. No one got too close. This was how it was supposed to be, after all. And checking into a lead (even though she was technically still on leave, but sneaking into the precinct late at night to nab some files had been so easy) made everything feel even more normal. Apparently there was some suspicious activity that needed to be looked into down here, likely some sort of drug territory dispute, but of the...supernatural variety. It was right up her alley, literally. The lead told them that the last known sighting of one of the suspects was near Stone’s Philosophy, a cheesy name for a stupid magic jewelery shop if Marley had ever heard one. But the name didn’t matter, because she was here now, and as she went to head into the shop, something else caught her eye. Two people near the entrance to the shop next door, Eye of Newt, and one of them clearly looked uncomfortable. Interesting.

Marley turned and paused, watching them for a moment. The shorter, curly haired woman seemed to be cutting off the man’s route. She had that pinchy, determined look on her face, and Marley recognized it. It would be easy enough to walk away and let them go about their business, but Marley was the curious sort. And so she crossed over and came up behind the two of them, hands on her hips. “Everything okay over here?” she asked, quirking a brow.

There was a tone of voice cops had when they were getting ready to throw their weight into a situation. Morgan knew what the woman across from her was before she clocked the badge at her hip. She went rigid, smiling stiff as she said, “Yes, of course! Just catching up with a friend, right?”

Eric Fridlund considered his options. He had too many shoplifted items in his bag to want to invite too much scrutiny, but he sure wanted to get out of this interaction and get back to his wife and dog. “Sorry if we’re blocking the entrance, we’re just wrapping up here, though, right?”

“Yeah, you were gonna tell me about the last time you saw Coraline. She was in your summer seminar, right? It’s just, you know, so weird that she hasn’t been in class so close to finals, you know?” Morgan touched his arm and steered them away from the door, barely concealing her irritation at the officer. Eric brushed her off with a more pleading look the officer’s way, but obliged nonetheless.

The situation was already strange to Marley but when the name ‘Coraline’ came up, her entire body stiffened. She remembered reading that name on a recent missing person’s report. And while it could be coincidence, Marley’s years as a detective in a small town like this told her it wasn’t. “Did you say Coraline?” she asked, stepping over towards the two, leaving all air of intervening behind. “That wouldn’t be Coraline Adams, would it?” The nervous look on the man’s face didn’t escape her, either. He knew something. Her eyes sharpened and she could feel the want trickling into her bones, the need to feed. It was all she could get these days, was little snacks like this. But the other woman presented a small problem. And so she’d play along for now. “Why don’t you answer the question, buddy, huh? Make this easier on all of us.”

Of course someone had called the flipping cops. Morgan didn’t even know how long Coraline had been missing for, but her body had been stashed at Erin’s for well over a week. Her friends would have noticed eventually. And, what with the whole playing your cards close game supernaturals always had to play, someone had involved the cops without realizing it was the last thing anyone needed. Especially Coraline. But Eric was getting a little wormy under the officer’s attention. Morgan couldn’t rule him out as a real lead. Morgan set her jaw against her irritation and rolled with it. “Uh...yeah. It is, actually.”

“I don’t know. I’ve already emailed the dean of the science college, letting him know that Coraline’s failing my seminar because she refuses to come to class or communicate with me,” Eric said irritably.

Yes, Morgan thought, because she was murdered. “That’s it? You just went straight to her dean?”

Eric shrugged. “I’m a busy guy, and University protocol doesn’t require me to do anything else. Now, uh, speaking of busy--” He gestured with his shopping bag before he realized his mistake in drawing attention to it, flushed, and started to extricate himself from the two women.

Marley could sniff out guilt in almost anyone. Eric looked ready to bolt, his body stiffening at just the mention of Coraline, and the way his eyes averted the conversation when he admitted to having contacted the Dean and only the Dean about her absence. Marley put a hand up, blocking his path, and leaned against the building so he couldn’t escape by her. “Actually,” she said, “you’ve become suddenly not busy, right? Because...you wanna stay here and have a nice chat with us outside of this store, instead of, say...down at the station.” Her eyes sharpened and her stare could be felt, even from behind her glasses. “Right?” When he stopped moving, Marley dropped her arm. “So, why don’t you start from the beginning, hmm? When did you last hear from her?”

Morgan couldn’t help but side-eye the officer. She’d never had one on her side before, not that she knew it was her side. It was more of a coincidence than the law giving a shit for dead, lost fae or knowing how to handle them. She tried to subtly shift her body to pen Doctor Fridlund closer against the shop and peek around his shirt sleeves and collar. Her parents had always worn their transmutation circles on their person, and she knew enough from photos and stories that tattoos were a common practice for serious witches since they couldn’t be lost. There was one of those ‘edgy’ leather bracelets that had ridden up his arm. She couldn’t tell if there was a charm or not, but without being able to tell for sure…

“What? No, I’m...my wife is expecting me and it’s my turn to walk the dog, and I don’t see any, you know, official warrants or anything. I’m positive I don’t actually have to talk to either one of you. You--” Eric pointed to Morgan. “Are you with her? Is this some ridiculous undercover set up?” He tugged on his polo again. “You know what, it doesn’t matter, and I don’t care. I don’t know when she stopped coming to class, at least two weeks ago, if the cops really wanna come take a look at my attendance sheets, they’re welcome to it. I’m sure the tutoring logs are still around somewhere too. We were meeting one on one for help for a few weeks, and then nothing. It’s not pretty, but it happens all the time. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

Marley narrowed her eyes. People often didn’t cooperate under stress, but it was also a symptom of guilt. He was giving excuses that didn’t make one-hundred percent sense. The other woman was getting squirmy, too, glancing around at the man as if looking for something. Marley followed her gaze only for a bit before turning her attention back to the man. “You know, I think I’d love to pay the school a visit on your behalf. Should I just come directly to your office? Or let the front desk know who I am and what I’m there for? Cause I’m good either way,” she stated firmly, standing between him and his quick exit. She wasn’t entirely convinced this man actually knew anything, but if he did, she was going to get it out of him. And if he didn’t, there was still another thing he could give her. “If she stopped coming to class two weeks ago why did it take you a full week to report her missing to the Dean?”

Eric Fridlund went still. “Christ, she’s missing? Did you know about this?” He whirled his attention on Morgan.

Morgan made no reply.

“Look, the memo to the dean was just a standard form, University Protocol. I put in her ID number, checked why I was technically concerned, she had missed over a week of class and needed to do something or else take a failing grade, and I said something about how we had after class meetings. These idiots realize they’re in too deep all the time, and they’re too busy whining into their cell phones to remember to drop or leave notice. It’s unfortunate, but it happens. My job is to get the real grown ups looped in and hope for the best.”

“But you didn’t say why,” Morgan said.

“I don’t know!” Eric snapped. “Obviously if I knew she was missing, I would have acted more accordingly. If she’s in serious trouble...Christ, I don’t know. What do you think, Beck, another round of grief and crisis inservices?”

“I don’t know, Doctor Fridlund. I’m still wondering why you’re either dangerously negligent or hiding something besides your stupid shopping bag.” She reached for his arm and pulled, dragging down his bracelet as she upset the contents.

“Hey! She can’t do that! Officer, she can’t do that, right?”

Whoever this woman was, Beck, it seemed, she was just as fed up with this boring professor as Marley was. He wasn’t giving her any answers she wanted, and she could feel the anger rising inside of her. “So glad the university has a professor like you who seems to care so much about his students. Waiting whole weeks before reporting them missing while thinking they’re just drop-outs or lazy and not, I don’t know, in need of help? Possibly even using this as a cry for help? Just...delighted,” she growled. It was apparent this situation was more than just a case to Marley, but she glowered into the man’s eyes from behind her shades and restrained herself, just barely, from peering into his fears.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered slowly, turning her head away as the other woman yanked on him. “I don’t see her doing anything.”

Eric puffed, indignant at this treatment. These bleeding hearts were always after him. He stooped to pick up his knick knacks with what dignity he had left (Christ, he needed to see someone about this. He’d stolen a golf hat from one of the shops and he didn’t even like golf). But before he could get that far, he felt the officer’s eyes on him and looked up. More than anything he wanted to tear his eyes away, to be anywhere but this godforsaken street. “No,” he whispered. “You can’t...this isn’t happening…” He backed away from them both and let the bag fall from his hands. He ran, stumbled to his knees in the street, got back up, and kept running.

Morgan reached out for him again, “Get back here--!” But whatever had come over him was too strong to listen. He left without picking up anything from the ground, and even leaving his bracelet behind. Morgan stooped to pick it up. She recognized the transmutation circle at once and grimaced, burning to have the power to make the ground swallow him up. “Well, that was interesting,” she grumbled. And not exactly illuminating for her peace of mind. She’d passed off her own spellcraft as pure aesthetic to know not everyone with a circle knew the first thing about equivalent exchange.

Coward. Marley flicked her eyes away from him and let the fears fall away. He didn’t actually know anything, she could tell just by the taste-- his fear was darker, different. He didn’t care about Coraline or what happened to her. But she was definitely going to be paying him a visit at the school, and that time, she’d come for him full blast. Whatever he was hiding, he held power somewhere, and she could use that to her advantage. Turning back to the other woman, Marley sized her up. “So...what’s your connection to Coraline?” she asked, raising a brow. “A worried friend? Interested party? Wannabe detective striking out on her own?”

All of Morgan’s rising warm feelings for the officer flatlined. “Oh, I’m just…concerned.” That much was true. “And the guy, you know, he gave me these weird vibes, you know. I just happen to think, you know, it’s a shit show out there and more people should care. Crazy, I know.” Morgan shrugged and looked down at the stolen things on the floor. There was an athame with its price sticker still on in the mix, but most of it was mundane garbage. Morgan grimaced. Completely useless. “Thank you, for whatever you did over there. But I guess I should be going too…”

Marley watched the woman fumble in her words. She was lying about something, but hiding it behind small tidbits of truth. Frowning, Marley moved to pick up the bag. She supposed she should return it to the store it was stolen from. Turning to look back at her, Marley gave her best attempt at a smile. She had a hunch, and it was time to test it out. “Of course,” she said, coming back over to her. She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out one of her cards. “If you think of anything else, feel free to contact me. After all, people like us,” she leaned in a little closer, “we gotta stick together, right?”

Morgan went stiff. What did she mean? Could she smell the death on her? Hear her lack of heartbeat? She was remembering to breathe, right? Or maybe the officer meant something else. Maybe it was people like them as in women, or queer women. All lady officers looked butch, and this one carried no small amount of swagger. Morgan offered her a smile and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not sure what you mean exactly, but I appreciate the sentiment. I don’t generally find police officers to be very sympathetic when it comes to my side of the tracks.” She offered her a wave and started to edge away.

Marley noted the woman’s stiffness at the question, watching her work out exactly what Marley meant. Whatever she said next, Marley already had her answer. Body language was so telling after all. “Well, not all officers have blindfolds on,” she said in return after a moment, “just know there’s someone looking out for you on the squad.” Or watching them closely, in her case. A tip of her head, a crooked smile. She wanted to stay longer, to figure out what exactly this woman was-- but it wouldn’t do to push such a twitchy looking person. “Hey, wait,” she called out, not moving from her spot, “I never got your name. I’m Marley.”

Morgan nodded, her smile curving up in a friendly way. Something sounded familiar about that name, she just couldn’t figure out how. She almost wanted to ask if she knew Jane Wu, but she didn’t want to put the reckless not-zombie into any more trouble than she already got into by herself. “I’ll try and remember that,” she said. “Maybe I’ll look you up sometime to say hey. If you hear from a gal named Morgan, you know it’s probably me.” Keeping the bracelet clenched tight in her fist, Morgan backed herself out of the street and high tailed it for home.

#wr marley #wr chatzy #wr marley chatzy #downtown detectives #wr #wickedswriting

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