#shivonnehauser

[ephrampettaline]

hand-off  | shivonne & ephram

@shivonnehauser

TXT: Hey Shivonne I won’t be at work today

TXT: In fact I’m taking the next couple weeks off unexpected-like

TXT: I wanted to ask you if you could be supervisor in the interim

[callmedaisy-blog1]

In the Interim//Shivonne & Daisy

@shivonnehauser

For the second time Daisy walked into the Soapberry Springs Sheriff’s Department looking for help. It didn’t feel quite as strange or as desperate as if had the first time, but she couldn’t shake her well taught gut distrust of cops. Things were a little more settled for her now. She had a place to live and would soon be attending university. As far as making friends she was still working on that. However people were generally nice to her, so she hoped that would go well. 

Her mother had called her twice though, leaving a voicemail each time. Daisy hadn’t called her back, but she worried that it would only be a matter of time before someone actually showed up to drag her back to New York City. That was the last thing she wanted. 

Like last time she talked to the receptionist for a moment, except this time Ms. Hauser was in a meeting meaning that Daisy had to wait in the cold waiting room. She did so of course, doing her best not to appear nervous. After about fifteen minutes the receptionist let her know that Ms. Hauser was ready to see her. Still trying not to fidget Daisy went to the office and knocked softly before being invited inside. “Um...hi,” she said as she entered, “I don’t know if Sheriff Pettaline mentioned me. His wife said he was pretty sick, so probably not, but my name is Daisy, um, Daisy Clark.” 

[ashnadir]

break-in

The thing was, Iann didn’t call the police, his neighbour did.

It was the neighbourly thing to do, really.  Old Mrs Shimada kept her eye on everything - can never be too safe - and she spotted the atronach teenagers forcibly making their way into Mal Ojo.  She called the cops immediately.

Iann was on his way back from the grocery at the same time, so by the time he arrived at the shop’s front door, three atronachs raced out in a flurry of lightening, wind and water, giggling as they did, arms full of all sorts of knick knacks.

“Hey - what - HEY!!”  Iann said, when he belatedly realized what happened.  “Fuck!!” he yelled, but then accidentally stomped into a puddle of electrified water that one of the teenagers had carelessly left behind, and got a jolt that sent him tumbling back.  Thank god for cloth grocery bags - Iann held on tight to them, no damage to his week’s worth of food.  “Dammit-t-tt-t...”  Iann stuttered, literally standing there for a moment in shock, trying to regain his breath.

@shivonnehauser

[ashnadir]

cheese it || von & iann

The saying went that ‘devotion built cathedrals’ and the sentiment rang true for Iann’s current state as well.  Only it wasn’t a cathedral Iann built, but a shrine.  And his devotion came both in work and effort, as well as enlightenment.  

Or so he thought, anyway.  On the Academy campus Iann’s shrine erected in the quad looked more like a slap-dash assembly of bizarre, Mickey Mouse-based constructs.  Where and how Iann acquired so much Mickey Mouse memorabilia in such a short amount of time was a testament to the power of Disney, really.  In the space of his 3rd symptom, he’d managed to get a party banner that proclaimed ‘I <3 MICKEY’, huge amounts of Micky mugs which he glued together to make pillars and an archway, a Mickey Mouse tablecloth to go over his Mickey-head shaped plastic table, Mickey chairs, Mickey streamers, Mickey balloons filled with Mickey-helium.  Mickey confetti, Mickey microphone with a Mickey amplifier, Mickey cups and plates filled with Mickey-shaped cookies and Mickey iced tea.  Mickey masks, Mickey ears, Mickey toques, gloves, scarves, socks, earmuffs, sunglasses.  And of course Mickey himself: a giant cardboard cut-out of the Mouse, decorated lovingly by Iann with Mickey glitter, Mickey paint and Mickey stickers.

Iann was tricked out in full Mouseketeer™ regalia.  The only thing that wasn’t part of the uniform of course being Iann’s trusty Duck-Hunter, a Colt 45 which he kept tucked in the back of his trousers. 

Using the mic, he called out to passing students and Faculty alike.  “Hey kids and yeah, you adults too!  Wouldn’t you like to be a Mousketeer?  It’s a whole lotta fun for the whole family!  Papa Mouse and Mama Mouse and little Jimmy and Suzy Mice too!  Mickey loves us all, and he wants you to join in the jamboree.  It’ll be ever so much fun. Just look at me!”  Iann switched on his Mickey boombox, which began playing the Mickey Mouse march.

Most people ignored the human - either because they knew Cardero and figured this was just another of his schemes, or because they knew the illness and figured he was in the third symptom, or because he was terrifying with his plastic smile, loud voice and Mouse-fire in his eyes.

But of course there were always the students who wanted a laugh.  And feeling cocky now that they’d gotten their vaccination, a group of werewolves laughed at Iann.   True to the spirit of Mickey, Iann laughed along with them.

Until one boy piped up:  “Everyone knows Donald’s the real pimp-daddy,” he boasted, the type of kid who was painfully pale and suburbian, but felt legitimized by listening to Fifty Cent and Eminem.

Iann paused in his cavorting.  “What did you say?” he growled lowly.  

“I said, dumbass, everyone knows Donald Duck is--”

But the werewolf boy didn’t have a chance to complete his claim, as Iann pulled out a Mickey Mouse baseball bat and swung it at the kid’s head, with a howl of rage.  

@shivonne-hauser-ssrp