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SFTH MURDER MYSTERY - PART 3 [JOHN JACOB POV]

part 2 << part 3 >> part 4 MASTERPOST

*CW for talk of death and child death, and talk of potential vomit

[WAYNE MANOR LOBBY - 17:01]

John Jacob couldn't control his breathing. He had just watched a child die, for fuck’s sake. The death itself was horrific too, John had to shuffle backwards slightly to avoid the wee child's blood from getting on his shoes.

Ethel stepped forward, through the sticky blood, and poked at the boy's face, “wakey wakey! You said you were going to perform for us! Well, come on!” She carried on to prod.

“He's dead, Ethel,” Rumpled informed her.

“Oh, is he? I hadn't realised,” she responded, with no hint of sarcasm, “that doesn't mean he can't perform.” She leaned into his ear, “WAKE UP!”

“I did think she was insane,” Tracy says, “but now I realise she's insane insane, and I've gotta respect it.”

John was too busy trying to not throw up to care for what they were saying. He barely registered being dragged to the next room.

[WAYNE MANOR DRAWING ROOM - 17:03]

He was unceremoniously plonked onto one of the many sofas in the huge room. Derek was placed next to him, also in the exact state as he was; pale and shivering, eyes glossed over.

“The three residents of the manor are dead,” Margaery began, “two died the same day ten days ago, and one just now. The kid didn't even know that the others had died.”

“But how? I mean, Wayne was the kid's adopted father, how did he not notice?” Tarquin questioned.

“He said something about Wayne disappearing often,” Rumpled recalled, “why would he need to do that?”

“Why would Batman feel the need to kill the man who helps the people of Glasgow with his money and power?” Margaery contemplated.

“Unless this ‘Batman’ didn't kill him,” Juliet shrugged, “and it was a setup?”

There were a few hums of contemplation.

Suddenly Esmeralda perked up, “the butler!”

“You think the butler killed Wayne?” Amanda asked, “that's quite.. cliché.”

“No, I don't,” Esmeralda began, “the tea, it was half drunk.”

Tracy perked an eyebrow up, “What's that got to do with anything?”

“He was drinking it, when he died, what if he didn't suffer from a sudden heart attack? What if he was poisoned?”

“Which would mean that he was murdered too,” Rumpled caught on quickly, “two of the three were killed.”

All this talk of murder made John rather queasy, and he had no idea why. He's seen death before, he's caused death before, so why was this different?

“Too much of a coincidence-” Margaery started.

“No such thing!” Ethel interrupted, “coincidences don't exist, it's just a silly word that people came up with to explain things.”

“The boy was murdered too, then,” Margaery gave Ethel a deathly glare, “but.. how? How could somebody have even-”

Brriiingg

The sudden noise made the entire group freeze.

Brriiingg

There was a telephone on a small table in the corner of the room.

Brriiingg

Whoever is ringing may have answers.

Brriiingg

But the question is, who dares answer?

The answer with the most votes will be the one to answer. The answer could have effects on the overall story.

*HINT: the person on the other end of the phone may have important answers - who is the best person to pry those answers out?

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wait. wait a minute. Hold on.

I smell something... I smell... yapping potential...........

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the problem is that thinking about mark and clarissa for too long will literally drive me insane

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Alexa and Janusz my babiess <33

Drawing based on the final scene of this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66108634

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AJ doesn't do villains often, but when he does they go HARD

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I would like to present

BUTCHABELLE

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"You look real pretty tonight. I mean-- I mean today. I mean, not pretty, you know. Idiot."

From improvised play #55, "Never Give Annabelle A Gun"

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After the confession and a few happy tears, Annabelle's dad called everyone to dinner. Mr Parker opted for an afternoon nap and the girls went for a walk. The sun was slowly nearing towards the horizon and a breeze was brushing gently through golden grass and Annabelle's hair. They were silent, lacking words to say. Annabelle intertwined her fingers with Butch's and turned towards her. She looked as Butch's dark hair was complimented with golden elegance of the setting sun and her gaze was stuck on Annabelle's face. She stood on her toes and closed the distance between their lips. The eventful day was coming to an end, promising a new beginning tomorrow.

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just once i would like to see sam host the Change game but NOT make any changes as a prank. I wonder if the other boys would flounder in fear of lack of direction/unease of when Sam would finally strike or if Sam delve into insanity biting his tongue

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Doing likeness studies of them rn

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catholic guilt butch vs henry telling them that the lord himself has sent him annabelle

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the face of a man who KNEW how crazy people were gonna go for this longform

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I had a vision idk

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Yeah, mood

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i'm sorry, i fear it is my sole purpose 🫡

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