#she said the guy was obviously guilty of attempted murder but she thought the kidnapping charge was stupid

[akihikosanada]

finished ace attorney!!! thoughts under a read more because of spoilers and it got kinda long. only opinion i'll state here is that i enjoyed it a lot and i would recommend it to anyone slightly curious about it ❤

ended the trilogy with mia and gumshoe as my favs. mia was too cool to live and gumshoe is pookie no other explanations are needed for either of them

the music was so good!!!! i think the trial music for the first game was the best one by far, but some of the songs related to specific cases were incredible (shoutout to aa1 case 4, aa2 case 2 and aa3 case 1)

my favorite case absolutely was the fourth one in aa2, i didn't know a single thing about it. from the maya kidnapping, the involvement of a serial killer, phoenix losing his very first trial, being able to get a bad ending and obviously the matt engarde plot twist. i did genuinely think adrien was the culprit

related to the matt thing it was the one twist i was not expecting at all nor had spoiled, i mean at one point godot looked like the only culprit possible (and accidentally had it spoiled to myself. rip) and manfred von karma just looks guilty as hell. also his theme song slayed i was mad they reused it in aa3 for the trials and other moments. he did not summon a glass of brandy out of nowhere while in jail for you to do this to him!!!!

i still stand by what i said in an earlier post, the cases with a fey right in the middle of them were definitely the best ones. also i really liked how the third game was practically all about the clan, even the prosecutor introduced in it. it's good that miles got his own spinoff series because we cannot forget that the two protagonists in the aa trilogy are phoenix and maya (and by extension the feys) !!!! you think at first mia will be the deuteragonist but then it turns out it's actually her sister!!!! this is their world!!!! all miles got was one case and even the dl-6 incident was about maya and mia's mother!!!!

not a fan at all of the franziska whip thing. it got old really fast as well. i can excuse murder but i didn't find the whole hitting people with it thing funny or entertaining.....it bothered me to the point i couldn't stand her tbh. remake the entire trilogy without her hitting people with a whip and i'll stan

already said a negative thing above so i'll say another one now. the gumshoe shit salary thing got old extremely fast like by the third game it felt like he got reduced to only saying he can't pay the bills and how all he eats are instant noodles. no idea what happens in the investigations games but i hope miles gives him a huge raise or i will keep hoping gumshoe petrol bombs him!!!!

kinda related to the gumshoe thing since they are both comic relief characters but larry also got turned lowkey into a creep that both phoenix and edgeworth couldn't stand while in the first game phoenix literally describes him as a "likeable guy who has been my friend since grade school" and thinks of him as a "good guy at heart" (started the first trial for these two quotes alone) miles also never describes him as a bad person or even a loser, he's a bit too silly alright but that's it. justice for larry!!!!! the writers don't know shit!!!!!

a while ago i said mia was too hot to live (i stand by it) but now i can add to this that diego was also too hot to live (he technically didn't die but you know what i mean) had they both lived and continued dating they would have outslayed outserved outcunted every single attorney in whatever country the games takes place in i mean murder suspicions aside no wonder dahlia wanted them both dead

speaking of dahlia i mean yes i wanted mia to beat her ass in both of her trials but before finishing the final trial in the trilogy i replayed aa3 case1 and like. ok yeah dahlia was highkey a girlboss like come on she staged her death at 14, murdered her half sister, (almost) murdered a lawyer in the courtroom and quickly disposed of the poison, attempted to kill the PROTAGONIST, killed her ex, and as a literal ghost she tried killing maya???? shelly de killer wishes i'm not sorry

speaking of mr. diego armando/godot i do wish it had been foreshadowed even slightly in the previous games, i mean there is a huge chance they had not planned it that early on in the series but still you know. planting seeds here and there. maybe in grossberg's office or even in fey & co. wasn't grossberg involved in another case in aa2? was that the final case? i forgor but maybe show something in his office by then? considering from the morgan scene post case 2 they had already planned stuff for later idfk. the fact that maya knew of him but was never mentioned by her even in the third game feels weird

oldbag was the best witness character by far. missed opportunity to have her interact with larry on scren so they could both give edgeworth an aneurysm. wuved will powers too ❤ can't be a coincidence the two slayest mfs came from the same case (even though i consider it the weakest one in aa1)

i am acros-girl till the end. free my man (from jail and being in the floppest case)!!!!

aa1 case 5 despite the new features and fitting quite well despite having been added later wasn't that hot tbh. it felt too long and i couldn't really connect with ema and er. her sister i forgor her name. the damon gant reveal was obvious from the moment he popped up too. COME ON even his leitmotif was evil as hell. on the other hand it also was the case that made me realise how much i missed maya LMAO sorry ema but you will never be her. starr and jake slayed though

aa1 fucked severely, aa2 was kind of boring honestly i can only say i enjoyed the second and fourth cases. aa3 was really good, but even though i cried and everything i didn't think its final case was as good as the fourth cases in the previous two games. it started very well but it kinda lost me with the pendulum honestly. i can accept channeling the dead but i have my limits!!! i also felt that the final segment with maya and godot could have been done better, a lot of time got spent on the stupid ass pendulum, not enough time spent in the emotional beats

this is a thought i had yesterday but it made me laugh that both desiree delite and matt engarde are brunettes who wear red clothes and like riding motorcycles. also come on one is rich and the other likes spending money??? you would think desiree is actually a matt who escaped jail and started hrt so shelly de killer wouldn't find her #girlboss #dahliawishes

i thought the whole trilogy being in 2d fit the game really well, honestly i'm kind of worried re: apollo trilogy and tgaa because i know some of it is in 3d but somehow i don't think it fits the style? also this is stupid maybe but i like how the only people that are voiced are the attorneys saying "objection" or "take that" or "hold it" in court, idk if they are voiced in the other games or not but i'd fear that. giving them enough time to speak and hear their accents would ruin the experience for me SJFLSDJKFJSDKL

i liked that the final scene of the game was with pearl and maya, in case you haven't realized it yet this is the phoenix and feys trilogy!!!

ok i was finishing this and i realized i had not talked about the gay lawyers at all. i see it and everything but also i think phoenix could do better. all in all it was gay but nothing that drove me insane playing the games (phoenix becoming a lawyer "to save him" was homosexual activity through and through though. same with the "unnecessary feelings" line

final thoughts: the feys would survive succession but not a single roy would survive ace attorney. also i hope aa7 is about ami fey's spirit getting revenge for the amount of times her urn got broken

[aesthyuckic]

AVENOIR | l.dh - VIGINTI QUINQUE (FINALE)

(gif not mine - credit to rightful owner)

Genre: High School AU (at beginning) ; Tarot Reader!Witch!Hyuck

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: (bold if in use) slow but with a purpose, belief contradictions, mentions of r*pe, blood, swearing, violence, mentions of abuse

Pairings: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan) x Reader (F)

V OF PENTACLES IN REVERSE: recovery, isolation

It was late at night when Johnny had heard a pounding on his door that had woken him up. Rather pissed off, he got up to go answer it, ready to yell at whoever until he saw them. Cosimia and Donghyuck standing there, both of them covered in blood with looks on their faces like lost children that had done something wrong.

“What did you do?” The oldest asked the both of them with widen eyes

In a rush, they had brought him to their trailer where a dead body in a pool of blood still lied on their floor. Random spots of red stained their carpet as well. The man had stood in utter disbelief at the sight in front of him especially with the two kids who had been involved.

“How could you kill someone?” Johnny asked, annoyed rather than concerned.

“It was self dense…” The girl replied. “He literally tried to kill Haechan and kidnap me.”

“It’s her father,” The boy added in a rather hushed tone as he stared blankly elsewhere. “Was her father now I guess…”

“Your father? How did he find you two? I thought you faked your deaths.”

“We did. I guess I was dumb enough to think he’d believe it. You’re surprisingly calm about us having a dead man on our floor.”

“There’s no point in freaking out when it gets us no where.”

There was a pause for silence as they looked at the literally crime scene in front of them. Though, Donghyuck was somewhere else still processing and thinking about what had happened.

“What do we do, Johnny?” The young boy asked, finally looking away from where he was staring just to turn his attention to the other with a scared look of hopelessness. “Do we call the police?”

“No,” He said. “That’d be too much time on our hands and too much money I don’t want to spend on fixing it.”

“But…” The boy started. “Why can’t we?”

“Really, Haechan? Why can’t we? Would you like to go to jail? Because I don’t know what happened exactly if this doesn’t exactly look very good when it comes to a self dense claim. Oh, and especially since it’s obviously you bashed his head in multiple times and he’s been lying here for awhile since he’s cold!”

“Johnny!” Cosimia yelled.

It had become quiet enough that they could hear little sniffs and cries. The eldest looked over to where Donghyuck leaned against the chair to see the boy had tears coming down his cheeks as he bit his lip trying to hold back any noise.

“God, look at what you did.” The girl huffed. “Outside, now!”

The man seemed taken back by her words and tone, “Excuse me, I’m your boss and I’m seven years older than you.”

“I said outside now!” She repeated herself, just much louder this time as well as angry.

The room had gotten quiet once again as he rolled his eyes and just did what the girl said by going outside. She went over to her boyfriend just to whisper a few sweet things to calm him down before kissing his forehead, gently. She then followed behind the eldest shortly, leaving him inside. The screen slammed behind her, making the anger apparent at the other.

“If you’re not going to help us, you can leave. I’ll figure it out on my own.” She sighed. “I don’t get why you had to do that to him…”

“Do what?” He pondered. “I answered his question.”

“Yeah, in a mean and unnecessary way when he’s not in a good state of mind!” She retorted. “You really don’t know what he’s been going through in the last hour… and Hyuck wouldn’t kill anyone, he didn’t kill anyone.”

“So what? Your dad just slipped and hit his head on your counter multiple times?”

“You know how he’s been seeing ghosts since he woke up from his coma? The first one he saw was my mom. You want to know who killed my father? It was her, she just used Hyuck as a way to do it. That’s why he has no scratches or anything even though he got stabbed by him! He feels bad enough as is, it’s not his fault and it’s not mine either. So help us or leave so I can figure it out and take care of Hyuck properly. The reason we even went to you is because we thought you’d be helpful and not do something like this…”

“That wouldn’t sound very good either in the eyes of a court.”

“No shit.”

It got rather cold that evening, everything about the atmosphere was heavy and gloom. The tall man stared at the teenager in front of him. Clothes still covered in blood, with her arms crossed as she seemed to think about the situation. Johnny sighed as he’d just seen a kid taking on more than she should at her age at the attempt of keeping her and her boyfriend together.

“Come on.” He said before going back inside. “I’ll help you guys.”

“You will?” Donghyuck heard as he came in.

“Yes…” He nodded. “I’ll take care of the body. Just clean the floors and take a shower after. We’ll figure things out from there I guess.”

Johnny wrapped a plastic bag around the body’s head, duct taping it shut so the blood pooled into the bag rather on the floor anymore. He had Cosimia help him drag the body right outside the trailer before he took over and told her to go help Haechan clean the floors. She seemed oddly desensitized to it, though the man understood why she would after learning about the past she shared with the person that was now just a body. The boy was inside putting blood soaked sponges and white towels turned red into a bucket.

At first, he was cleaning up without a thought as it was just automatic but the more he stared at the blood the more he thought about. He still blamed himself for the predicament they were in, even if he hadn’t had control of his body he was the one that killed him. Seeing it again just made him feel utterly guilty. It haunted his mind as he now just sat on the floor, staring at the yellow gloves that were messy and stained red.

Cosimia walked in to see him in a trance. She sighed out of worry. She bent down, quietly next to him. She made eye contact with him before she took the gloves off his hands. To the boy, it was almost terrifying to see how emotionless she seemed about it all, not even phased by the blood even if the sight of it made her pale.

“Go shower.” She mumbled. “But your clothes in a bag though.”

“I should help you...” He said.

“I can do it on my own, Hyuck.” She assured him. “You need it so, go.”

The boy nodded and did as he was told, all in silence. She hurried to finish cleaning up the puddles left on the floor before she scrubbed the kitchen floor spotless to get the tint out of it. It sparkled and the yellow shade on the other side was suspicious in all honesty. She moved on to the carpet after that, her boyfriend still in the shower. She scrubbed deep into the carpet as much as hard as she could. Again, the color difference made things feel off.

She sighed, sweating from how much ‘elbow grease’ she had to put into both floors all on her own. She was already just mentally done with the night. Donghyuck had come from the bedroom, freshly showered and with new, clean clothes on. A wrinkled plastic bag all tied up in his hand with his previous outfit in it. He saw the girl bent over the floor just breathing heavy with her eyes closed.

“Uhh…” He hesitated. “I’m done…”

She looked up at him at the sound of his voice. “Okay, just put the bag outside.”

“It looks good…” He said, awkwardly as he walked through the kitchen, noticing she had finished already.

“Thank you.”

“Cosi, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but you missed a spot…”

“What?”

She walked over to see what spot he was talking about. She apparently had forgotten about the ledge of the counter. The metal strip was a golden color, now mixed with a wine color. The boy was taken back at the sight, his breath hitched in his throat as he remembered his vague vision from the night of summer solstice that all made sense to him now. He caught himself in a trance again.

“Are you okay?” The girl asked him.

“As good as I can be right now.” He shrugged before he went outside.

It felt cold, she knew he was still process and everything but he was being avoidant especially with her which hurt almost even if she got it. It was an awkward situation, how exactly are you suppose to act with someone after that? She didn’t blame him. She held back her own tears and emotions as she she dropped to the floor to scrub one more thing.

It seemed never ending, like it went on forever. Guilt was so overwhelming… If she hadn’t asked him to run away he wouldn’t have gotten hurt whatsoever or be here in this mess. She wanted to sob so badly, it was painful to hold back as she cleaned. She felt like he hated her even if that was far from the truth. And even though her father was the scum of the earth in her eyes, he was unfortunately still a human being, that happened to be related to her, who died in front of her. She wanted him dead for so long she didn’t know how to feel exactly. Maybe it was bad that she felt relief over it or that she didn’t really care about the fact he was dead and ‘murdered’ by what others would say. She felt as if he had it coming, that he deserved it after all he had put her through, put her boyfriend through. It would’ve been her’s and Donghyuck’s blood anyway if not his so was it that bad?

As much as she wanted to be about love and felt best when she was, it was hard to be when others filled you with so much rage and pain… She always had to be strong and especially so right now. She finished up the corner before she put the bucket outside and went back in to clean herself up. She wrapped her old clothes in a plastic bag, just like Donghyuck before she got into the shower. Her hair dripped with every step she took once she had gotten out.

Johnny had found them and told them to follow him with everything from the crime scene. The kids look at each other in confusion but did as they were told anyway. The place he had lead them to was far away from everyone and everything else. There, a bonfire resided that touch the dark night sky. Wood burned as they stopped in their tracks.

“Just throw it all in…” Their boss said as he stared at the fire that burned bright.

It was a sense of relief when they saw everything set ablaze and watched it turn into ash.

“Is that it?” Donghyuck asked.

“For you guys.” The other male shrugged. “I’m going to be out here for awhile. Go get some sleep and this night never happened.”

They nodded, both understanding and left with a small ‘thank you’ into the darkness. Nothing felt real at that point. It was eerie, even when they stepped back in the trailer they called home for the many months. It left a dreadful feeling, knowing and seeing what happen all over again. It’s like… a ghost of what happened lingered among them just to haunt them. It was just spooky in a way it never was.

To think the evening has started out so lovely… Who knew it could go to shit so fast and stay that way…

It was clear both of the teenagers were exhausted, though they couldn’t sleep no matter how much they tried.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?” The girl questioned.

“Huh?” He mumbled. “Who?”

“My mom.” She responded. “She’s gone, right?”

“Yeah… She thanked me before she disappeared.”

“I never got to say goodbye to her.”

“I’m sorry, Cosi.”

“She didn’t even say she loves me?”

“I think that goes without saying…”

“At least she’s in the summerlands now.”

Morning didn’t take long to arrive. The sunrise was a beautiful orange, yellow and pink ombré. They decided to go up on their roof to watch it since they were up and the inside was too suffocating for them. Donghyuck was once again the one to help Cosimia on the roof.

The sun started to peek more over the horizon more with every moment. The birds sang, cheerfully as everything around them glow a welcoming gold color. It seemed like the world really had no idea what had gone on or maybe it just proved life went on in many beautiful ways regardless of what horrible things took place in it.

Cosimia looked over to see her boyfriend looking off into the distance with no clue she was staring. He usually knew because he could feel it and he’d make some sly comment about it. She hurt because she had never seen him so quiet.

“Do you still love me?” She struggled to mutter out.

“What?” He was taken back by the question. “Of course I do! What would give you the idea I don’t?”

“Because,” She croaked. “It’s easy to say this is my fault… My father hurt you, my mother possessed you… If I didn’t ask you to come with me you would’ve never gotten hurt or gone through this. The question is how can you love me knowing that, really.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to say how glad I am that I came with you, honestly. I’ve learned many things because of you and I’ve become someone I’m happy to be because of you. I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for this adventure I’ve been able to share with you, Cosi. I know relationships and life in general have hard patches, but I do love you and I want to work through that and still be with you… I want to marry you one day.”

“You do…?”

She seemed shocked by the last part that had left his mouth. Truth be told, so was he. He should’ve learn to shut his mouth after he said ‘i love you’ the day when they started dating. Tears were streaming down the girl’s face which he reached over to wipe away.

“I do…” He smiled. “I hope that’s okay. I know we haven’t dated that long and we’re still very much kids and not ready for that yet… But I do hope to share the rest of my life with you.”

She started sobbing, “You really don’t hate or blame me for what happened?”

“You can’t control those things so of course not.” He reassured her. “I’m just happy to still be here with you right now and you especially, but we’re okay. Maybe not mentally, but physically. We can work on the mental part and get better.”

She laughed a bit through her tears. They boy pulled her over and kissed her forehead, gently this time, “I love you, okay? No matter what. We’ll get through this together even if it’s tough.”

She hugged him with a hum. It was nice to feel comfort for a moment after the stressful night they had been through.

“Should we leave?” She asked.

He breathed, “We’ve created our family here. Plus Johnny has done so much for us just in these last few hours… If you want to go, I’ll go. It’s up to you.”

“Maybe we should stay.” She hummed.

“We have all the time in the world to figure out what’s next for us.”

They intertwined their fingers, holding each other hands rather tightly. Cosimia leaned her head on the boy’s shoulder, feeling some tranquility now. The sun continued to rise in front of them…

T H E E N D.

[abusybuzzingbee]

Pilot | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 1 Rewrite | Dean x Reader

A/N:::: Hello!! I am a royal dumbass and just accidentally deleted my whole tumblr. I was trying to get rid of my main account and accidentally got rid of it all!! So, this is bee from @abusybuzzingbee coming back at you with reuploads of my supernatural rewrites. So sorry to all of my supporters for my tomfoolery.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Major Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: Canon violence, language, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other, this is going to be the slowest burn that ever did burn, so buckle up!

Word Count: 7,643

Summary: The reader is a lonely young hunter on the road to Jericho, California where she bumps into two boys on the search for their father.

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Season 1 Masterlist

It was an early morning yesterday

I was up before the dawn.’

‘Funny how the sun’s just rising,’ you thought.

‘And I really have enjoyed my stay

But I must be moving on.’

The sound of the familiar tune of “Goodbye Stranger” coming from the radio of your new hijacked wheels-- a 2002 Toyota Camry, to be exact-- put a smile on your face.

‘Like a king without a castle

Like a queen without a throne

I’m an early morning lover

And I must be moving on.’

As you drove along a remote highway on the way to Jericho, California, you threw a glance to the wind lightly rustling the leaves of the trees outside of your driver’s side mirror.

‘Now I believe in what you say

Is the undisputed truth.’

Scenes such as this have always calmed you. The first beams of light stretching up from over the horizon, the vivid colors of the tree leaves, the hum of the radio of your newest car, and the sound of your tires gliding over the pavement. 

‘But I have to have things my own way

To keep me in my youth.’

These road trips in between hunts were the only taste you had ever had of a normal life. Not that you wanted a normal life, you think you would be too bored in the suburbs. However, it is comforting to have a small break from monsters while driving from place to place to relax.

‘Like a ship without an anchor

Like a slave without a chain

Just a thought of those sweet ladies

Sends a shiver through my veins.’

The latest case you had picked up on was the disappearance of several men on Centennial Highway in Jericho. 

‘And I will go on shining

Shining like brand new

I’ll never look behind me

My troubles will be few.’

The last disappearance had been some kid named Troy. Poor bastard.

You had very little knowledge of what you were walking into. You decided that you would head to the scene of the crime to try and get a better idea of what you were dealing with.

‘Goodbye stranger

It’s been nice

Hope you find your paradise

Tried to see your point of view

Hope your dreams will all come true.’

Just a few more hours and you’d be there.

‘Goodbye Mary, goodbye Jane--’

You turned the music up just a bit as you picked up your speed on the highway and thought about my last successful hunt in Alexandria, Louisiana. 

‘Will we ever meet again?’

You were proud of how you did on that hunt, but it was freeing to leave towns you had previously hunted in in your rearview mirror.

‘Feel no sorrow, feel no shame--’

It wasn’t a matter of feeling guilty about what you had done while you were in that town; you had nothing to feel guilty about. It just always hurt you to think of the sad faces of the people who had already lost family members before you got there to do your job.

‘Come tomorrow, feel no pain--’

There would always be that little bit of trauma that you carried with you because of all you had seen on hunts, but c’est la vie.

‘Sweet devotion (Goodbye, Mary)

It’s not for me (Goodbye, Jane).’

You let your mind go blank and get completely absorbed in the music as you continued to drive along.

‘Just give me motion (Will we ever)

To set me free (Meet again?)’

Music was the one constant in your life that kept you grounded. It was so powerful. Music could express so many feelings and bring those same emotions out of its listeners.

‘In the land and the ocean (Feel no sorrow)

Far away (Feel no shame)--’

You loved oldies music. From ‘70′s hippie music to ‘80′s rock, all the way back to Edith Piaf in the 1940′s. 

‘It’s the life I’ve chosen (Come tomorrow)

Every day (Feel no pain)’

You wished you had the time to sit down for long enough to learn to play an instrument. There was a whole list of things you wanted to learn to play including piano, guitar, ukelele, and drums. 

‘Maybe one day,’ you thought.

‘So goodbye, Mary (Goodbye, Mary)

Goodbye, Jane (Goodbye, Jane)

Will we ever (Will we ever)

Meet again? (Meet again?)’

**** 

A few hours later, you were parked on Sylvania Bridge in Jericho. You had stopped a few miles back at a gas station to change into an outfit that looked a little more professional than a pair of baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt and opted for one of the many police uniforms you carried around with you. This one was a federal marshal suit. Included the khakis, shirt with a little police badge on the pocket, and a belt with your fake badge on it. It was your mom’s. She threw herself into the many roles she played on the job and made sure she had the costumes to fit the part. Once she passed, you just couldn’t let them go.

You hopped out of the car and walked over to the scene of the crime. You noticed two boys that looked about my age talking to one of the deputies on site. You watched them flash badges to the deputy, but neither was in uniform. 

‘Oh, boy.’

"You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?” you heard the deputy remark as you walked up to them. 

“Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you,” the shorter guy laughed. 

'That’s my cue,’ you thought.

“Hiya, fellas,” you smiled brightly, glancing between the three of them.

The two guys turned back to look at you. The shorter one pointed at himself with a questioning look on his face directed at you. You eyed him, attempting to tell him to just go with it. 

“Why aren’t you two in uniform?” you asked, standing next to the taller boy and glancing between the two of them. You looked at the deputy. “Sorry to have them bothering you. New hires,” you lied, rolling your eyes. “I’m supposed to oversee how they handle this case.”

“Mm-hmm...” the deputy said, squinting at you. He was clearly suspicious.

I extended my right hand to the deputy and reached for my badge with the other. “I’m Agent Nicks, nice to meet you.” I showed him my badge.

“Deputy Jaffe.” He shook my hand and nodded at my badge.

“Man, you guys can’t catch a break. You just had another killing like this, right?” I nodded my head at Troy’s car at the center of the crime scene as I spoke. 

“Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that,” the deputy spoke as I walked over to the car, the two boys trailing behind me.

“So, this victim, you knew him?” The taller boy questioned.

The deputy nodded. “Town like this, everybody knows everybody.”

The shorter boy circled the car once and stopped between the taller boy and I. “Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?” he asked.

“No,” Jaffe answered, “Not so far as we can tell.���

“So what's the theory?” The taller guy asked.

“Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?”

“Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys,” the shorter guy quipped.

Your eyes widened as you watched the deputy’s incredulous expression. You didn’t like this kid already. You bit back a snicker when the dude who was with him stomped on his foot.

“Thank you for your time. Gentlemen,” the tall guy nodded.

You turned to follow your two “colleagues” away from the crime scene. The shorter guy smacked the taller one on the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” 

“Why'd you have to step on my foot?”

“Why do you have to talk to the police like that?”

The two men realized you were following them and turned to look at you.

“Uh, can we help you?” the shorter one asked.

“No,” you replied. “I’ll be out of your hair in a second. I just think it’d be a little weird if I left the scene of the crime without regrouping with my ‘proteges’ first.”

The taller one nodded. It became clear to you he was the sensible one of the two.

“About that--” the shorter one came back, implying that you should explain yourself.

“Yeah, sorry for stepping all over your hunt.”

The two seemed in disbelief that you had figured out their secret.

“Takes one to know one,” You snickered. “I had to get the same information you two did, and it’d look really weird if two rounds of federal marshals came through for one case. I’m (Y/N), by the way.” You stuck out your hand for the two of them to shake.

The taller one took it first. “I’m Sam,” he smiled, “that’s my brother, Dean.” 

You shook Dean’s hand after Sam’s.

“You shake hands?” Dean asked.

You shrugged with a tilt of your head to the side.

“Weird.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I got this hunt under control if you boys wanna hit the road.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, lady,” Dean started, “We were here first.”

“Geez, sorry. I thought I was doing you guys a favor by letting you hit the road.”

“Sorry,” Sam spoke for his brother, “We’re looking for our dad. The only information we have on where he could be is here, so we’ve got this covered.”

You nodded. “I hope you find him soon. Good meeting you two.” You turned to leave.

“Wait,” Sam called after you. “Three heads are better than two. We could use your help.”

Dean was quick to cut in. “No, no we do not--”

“What?” you asked, smirking. “You don’t like me Dean-o?”

He opened his mouth to respond, obviously trying to think of something to say. He came up blank after a few seconds.

You chuckled. “I’m down to help.”

Sam smiled brightly at you. “Great!” 

You glanced over Sam’s shoulder and your jaw clenched. Sam turned to follow your gaze.

The sheriff was talking to two FBI agents. He looked at you three pointedly. “Can I help you kids?”

“No, sir, we were just leaving,” Dean told him. He then nodded at the FBI agents as they walked past your trio. “Agent Mulder. Agent Scully.”

The three of you headed past the sheriff, whose gaze you could feel piercing through your back.

You noticed the 1967 Impala parked a little farther back than your car, wondering how you could have missed it when you pulled up to the scene.

“Aw, cool!” you exclaimed, quickly walking over to it. “Sweet ride.”  You ran your hand over the hood.

“Hey,” Dean called, “Hands off my baby.”

“You dating a car, Grumpy?” you smirked. 

He rolled his eyes at you. 

“Those your wheels over there?” Sam asked. He nodded towards your Camry.

“Unfortunately. Had to jack that car a few states back,” you responded.

Sam nodded. “You can catch a ride back with us if you want.”

Dean tossed a look at his brother.

“Cool, thanks,” you answered, smiling. “Let me just pull it off the road into some trees or something.”

***

"Who are we looking for again?” you asked the boys as you strolled around town. You had ditched your federal marshal getup and left it along with the rest of your stuff in the back of Dean’s car. 

Dean scoffed at your question.

“Hey, you didn’t answer the first time I asked, so I had to do it again,” you threw back.

“Troy’s girlfriend,” Sam answered.

“Thank you, Sam.” You threw a pointed look at Dean. He just turned his face away from you.

A few paces down from your pack, a young girl with brown hair was putting missing posters up with Troy’s face on them. 

"I'll bet you that's her,” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah,” Sam affirmed.

Your group walked up to her as Dean spoke, “You must be Amy.”

“Yeah,” she answered plainly.

“Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy.”

“And who’s that?” Amy glanced at you.

“I’m (Y/N). A friend of theirs.”

Amy nodded, looking back to Sam and Dean. “He never mentioned you to me.” She began to walk away with her posters.

Dean was quick to follow her. “Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto.”

“So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around,” Sam continued for Dean.

A friend of Amy’s came up to her and asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

Once Amy responded with a simple, “Yeah,” her friend stayed with her.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?” I asked Amy.

***

You, Amy’s friend, Rachel, and Amy were packed into one side of a diner booth while Sam and Dean sat opposite you.  

Amy spoke about what happened the night Troy went “missing.” “I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.”

“He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?” Sam asked.

Amy shook her head. “No. Nothing I can remember.”

You glanced at the pentagram pendant she was wearing. “I like your necklace.”

“Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents with all that devil stuff,” Amy laughed. 

You smiled. “Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.” 

“Okay,” Dean cut in. “Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries.”

You rolled your eyes at him while he took his arm off of the back of Sam’s seat and leaned forward on his elbows. “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything...” he trailed off, waiting for them to answer.

Amy and Rachel glanced between each other. 

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Well, it's just,” Rachel began, “I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk."

“About?” You questioned turning a bit more inward to Rachel. 

“It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago,” Rachel stated.

You watched Rachel attentively, nodding.

“Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

You glanced at the boys with a quirked eyebrow.

***

Dean typed away on the library computer on the archive search page for the Jericho Herald. He had the words “Female Murder Hitchhiking" typed into the search bar. When he pressed enter, nothing came up. Dean replaced “Hitchhiking” with “Centennial Highway,” and once again, crickets. 

“Wait a minute,” Sam started, “So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied as if it was obvious.

“Well, maybe it’s not murder,” Sam stated.

“Ohhh,” you started, “I’m pickin’ up what you’re puttin’ down.” You knew Sam was thinking suicide.

Sam smiled at you.

“Let me try,” Sam told Dean.

“I got it,” Dean came back.

Sam shoved Dean out of the chair and took over.

“Dude!” Dean hit Sam on the shoulder. “You're such a control freak.”

You laughed at their banter.

“Can it, (Y/N),” Dean told you.

“So, what I can’t laugh?”

“No, no, you can’t.”

“I literally just met you and I’ve had it up to here--” you flattened your hand and put it up by your eyebrow, “--with you already--”

“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart,” Dean cut you off. 

“You two wanna stop?” Sam asked. “Come look at this.”

Just as you thought, Sam had put “suicide” in place of “murder” in the search bar.

Sam snapped you out of your thoughts by saying, “This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.”

“Does it say why she did it?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you started, leaning over Sam’s shoulder to get a better look at the screen, “An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.”

Something about the situation did not sit right with you; it sounded familiar. 

Sam continued reading. “‘ 'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch.’”

“The bridge look familiar to you?” Dean pointed out, looking at a picture of a man-- presumably Constance’s husband-- crying standing next to Sylvania Bridge.

“Well, we know where we’re headed,” you commented, walking toward the exit of the library. You could feel Dean’s eyes on you as you left.

***

By the time you finally got to Sylvania Bridge, it was late at night. You and the boys had stopped for a bite to eat before going back to the bridge. Troy’s car had long since been removed, the crime scene completely cleared out. 

Dean looked out over the edge of the bridge, standing next to you and Sam. “So this is where Constance took the swan dive.”

“So you think Dad would have been here?” Sam looked over at his brother.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him.” Dean continued down the bridge, the taller boy trailing behind him.

“Okay, so now what?”

“Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while.”

Sam stopped. “Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—”

The brunet stopped, turning around. “Monday. Right. The interview.” Aggravation was clear in his tone.

“Yeah.”

You thought it best to take a step back while they had this discussion.

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean’s tone got a bit more of an edge to it.

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam pushed back.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?”

Sam stepped closer to Dean. “No, and she's not ever going to know.”

The older boy did not back down. “Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” He turned around and kept walking.

Sam followed him, his arms out in question. “And who's that?”

“You're one of us.” Dean gestured to himself and back to you staying several paces back,

Sam hurried to get in front of his brother. “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

“You have a responsibility to—”

“To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

When Dean grabbed his brother by the collar and shoved him against the bridge, you jumped into action.

“Hey, knock it off, Dean.”

“(Y/N)--” Dean warned, giving you a sideways glare. He looked back at Sam. “Don't talk about her like that.” He let Sam go and walked away from him.

You hurried over to Sam. “You okay?” You put your hand on his shoulder and met his hazel eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Guys,” Dean called.

You looked to Dean who stared down to the railing at the edge of the bridge.

“Constance,” you let out, coming to stand next to Dean.

Constance looked back at your group before stepping off of the railing.

The three of you ran to the railing. 

“Where'd she go?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, wanna jump down there and find out?” you sassed.

Dean glared at you as the sound of the Impala’s engine roared behind you.

The older Winchester flipped around. “What the—” 

Sam wheeled around, too. “Who's driving your car?” 

Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket and jingled them, his green eyes never leaving the Impala.

The car jerked into motion, barrelling over the bridge straight toward you and the Winchesters.

“Go! Go!” you yelled, turning and sprinting away.

Dean and Sam sped ahead of you, and you noticed the car gaining on you. Your heart raced and your breathing was labored. The car was way too close for comfort and left you with just one option.

You threw yourself over the railing, just barely managing to hang onto the edge of the bridge.

You heard the car engine stop just as something-- or someone-- hit the water.

You pulled yourself back over the railing and noticed Sam sitting on the railing calling for Dean.

You rushed over to Sam, leaning over the railing to try to find Dean.

He popped up a second later, his usually spikey hair flattened to his head with mud. In fact, his whole body was covered in mud.

“You okay?” You called down to him.

Dean sarcastically held up a thumb and pursed his lips. 

“Hey, I’m just checking on you, don’t be an ass,” you yelled back, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Fuck off,” he grunted, annoyed.

Sam laughed and got back onto the bridge.

You headed over to the Impala and checked it over, grabbing a towel out of your bag.

Dean had managed to climb back onto the bridge and made his way over to his baby. He opened the car’s hood and poked around to see if Constance had damaged it at all. After a moment, he shut the hood and leaned on it.

“Your car all right?” you heard Sam ask are you walked over to Dean with the towel.

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!” He yelled at the spirit. 

You put the towel on Dean’s head and started to dry his hair off when he jerked away from you.

“What are you doing?”

You were quick to put the towel back on his head. “Helping.”

The dirty blond ripped the towel out of your hands. “I got it.”

“Fine.” You raised your hands up in surrender. You leaned against the car next to Dean. “You know, I been thinkin’.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Shut up, Dean. I’m serious.” You paused, taking in a breath. “Constance is a woman in white.”

Sam pursed his lips, shrugging. “Makes sense. I mean, the dead kids, suicide, killing unfaithful men.”

“Maybe.” The older Winchester’s monotone voice was followed by silence. A silence that was broken a few moments later by Sam.

“You smell like a toilet.”

You scrunched up your nose and giggled. 

“Can it, (Y/N).”

***

“You guys having a reunion or something?” the clerk asked, looking at the credit card Dean had placed on the motel’s front desk.

Sam cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.”

Dean looked over to his brother briefly and then turns his head back to the clerk. “What room’s he in?”

“Listen, kid, I can’t go around giving out people’s room numbers.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

You stepped out from behind the two boys. “Oh, please sir? He’s family, and we haven’t seen him in a while.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.”

***

“That how you get all the guys?”

“What?” you asked, not bothering to face Dean to answer his question. The two of you were stationed outside of John Winchester's room playing lookout while Sam picked the lock on the door.

“You know what I mean. I saw you makin’ eyes at the clerk.”

“Yeah, to get a room number.” You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. It worked real well.” He turned to face you.

“You know, you don’t have to be such a dick all the time. I met you yesterday and have given you no reason not to like me. What’s your deal?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, my plate is kind of full. I’m trying to figure out what the hell happened to my dad. I have no idea whether he’s alive, dead, or captured, and he’s the only parent I have left. And my little brother is solely concerned about getting back to fucking Stanford, and I’m not even sure he cares about what happened to our dad. And now, enter (Y/N) trying to take over a hunt that is the only tie I have to my dad.” Dean’s face was incredibly close to yours.

Sam had long since gone into the room and decided to leave the two of you alone to hash out your frustrations.

You held your ground, but your voice took on less of an angry tone. You were strictly playing defense at this point. “But I wasn’t trying to take it over to be mean, and as soon as you got so defensive about the hunt, I backed down and just offered to help--”

“Yeah, and I didn't want your help. Sam was the one who let you in, probably hoping that if you were here he could shag ass back to Stanford. So forgive me if I’m a little on edge.” He pulled his face away from yours, wheeling around to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“Well, I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience. Perhaps you’ve forgotten the fact that I’ve helped you guys more than I’ve hurt you. I pulled your asses out of a crack when you were talking to the police. I was the one who figured out what kind of a spook we’re dealing with here. I want you to find your dad. I really do. But I also want you to stop being so awful to me. And it’s just me specifically!” You threw your arms up in the air. At some point during the first part of your rant, Dean had looked back at you over his shoulder. “You’re so nice to Sam--I mean, about as nice as brothers are to each other-- and I can tell you care about him. I can tell you have a good heart. So why choose to be an ass?”

When Dean didn’t answer, you shook your head. “Whatever. I’m leaving.” You clutched your duffel bag strap on your shoulder tightly, your knuckles turning white.

“To go where?”

“Away. You win. Ya got what you wanted.”

“Wait, (Y/N)--”

“Tell Sam I said ‘bye.’”

***

The heat of midday had your baby hairs stuck to your head with sweat. You had been walking for a while now, just trying to find somewhere remote enough that you could steal a car without getting seen. 

You hiked along a highway surrounded by dense trees, the rustling sound of the green leaves filling your head. You took a deep breath, allowing peace to wash over you. You never had to see Dean Winchester again, although you would miss Sam. He was the closest thing to a friend you’ve had in a while. 

A familiar engine roar overpowered the sound of the rustling you had been hearing. The car pulled off of the highway just behind you, coming to a stop. 

You took your bottom lip in your mouth under your top one, closing your eyes and stopping your walk.

You heard the opening and closing of the car’s door as you turned around, a small smile on your lips.

“You know,” Sam started, walking toward you, “It’s kind of rude to leave without saying ‘goodbye.’“ 

You let out a laugh. “Hey, Sam.”

He pulled you into a quick hug. “Hey. I heard what happened.”

You looked down at the mixture of grass and gravel below your combat boots. “Yeah.”

“And I know you probably never wanna see Dean’s face again, but we need your help. I do, and he does, whether he wants to admit it or not. We can all get out of here a lot quicker if we work together. You can get away from Dean, I can get back to Stanford, and Dean can find our dad.”

“Where is Dean?”

“Arrested.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, nodding.  “Okay.” You put on a smile. “What now?”

***

Much later in the day, after going to visit Joseph Welch, you and Sam were sitting in a diner grabbing a bite to eat. The both of you were brainstorming what to do to get Dean out of jail and what to do about that Constance bitch. The conversation had shifted from those two topics once you had a solid plan to simply small talk between friends.

“So what’s your story?” you asked, taking a bite out of one of your fries.

“What?”

“I picked up from conversations between you and Dean over the past two days and the very loud conversation I had with your brother earlier that you left hunting to go to Stanford. What happened there?”

Sam chuckled, looking down. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. I crossed a line,” you told him sincerely. You stared at your ketchup. 

“No, no,” he responded. He took in a sharp breath. “My dad and I had a big blowout fight before I left for college. He told me if I left for college to never come back. Haven’t talked to him in two years.” He took a bite of his salad after he finished talking.

“Oh,” you said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

You decided to change the subject. “Alright, we’ve let Dean rot long enough. I’m gonna go call the police.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll get the check.” 

You walked outside of the diner, heading to the payphone you spotted at the entrance of the parking lot. You picked it up and dialed ‘9-1-1.’

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

You made your voice frantic, forcing tears to well up in your eyes. “My-My husband! He’s been shot!”

“Ma’am, calm down for me, okay? Where are you?”

You screamed. “He- He just shot another guy! Oh, my god!”

“Ma’am, where are you?”

“I’m on Whiteford Road,” you said. “Please, please, please hurry!”

“Okay, okay, um, w-we’re sending a unit out to you now. Can you stay on the line for me?”

“No, no! Please!” you cried. “Plea--” You cut yourself off and hung up the phone. 

You noticed Sam standing next to you using one of his forearms to hold the door open as he leaned on the door frame. 

“What?”

“That was damn good acting,” he noted.

“Thanks,” you chuckled. “I actually wanted to be an actress growing up.”

“Hunting got in the way,” Sam figured.

“Exactly. But, acting is kind of part of the job. Gotta be real good at lying and pretending to be feds,” you shrugged, making light of the situation.

A comfortable silence blanketed you and Sam as you lamented over what life could’ve been for you. You sucked in a breath and said, “We better get going. To Constance!”

***

Sam’s phone ringing pulled the two of you out of a conversation about his girlfriend, Jess, and his life at Stanford. 

Sam looked at the caller ID, shrugging at you when he didn’t recognize it.

“Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal,” you could hear Dean jest through the phone.

The brunet grinned. “It was (Y/N), actually.”

He paused. “(Y/N)? She’s with you?”

You took Sam’s phone out of his hands and said, “Yup. Hi, Dean,” into the receiver. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You gave the phone back to Sam. 

The older Winchester changed the topic from you to something else. “Listen, we gotta talk.” 

“Tell me about it,” Sam jumped in. “So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop--”

His brother tried to cut him off. “Sammy, would you shut up for a second?”

“--I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.”

“Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho.”

Sam threw a look to you before glancing back to the road. “What? How do you know?”

“I've got his journal,” you heard the dirty blond explain.

“He doesn't go anywhere without that thing.”

“Yeah, well, he did this time.”

“What's it say?”

“Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going.”

‘Ex-Marine crap?’ you thought to yourself.

Sam noticed your puzzled expression and directed toward you, “Coordinates.” He spoke his following words to Dean. “Where to?”

“I'm not sure yet.”

You propped your head up on your elbow on the passenger’s side door, legs tossed in an ‘L’ shape on the seat beside you. You stared out of the window into the dark night, taking in the gloomy appearance of the dead trees and fallen leaves. 

The younger Winchester shook his head. “I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job?”

A figure in the road caught your eye, causing you to squint and look out the windshield. 

Sam was still rambling to his brother. “Dean, what the hell is going on?”

You registered that Constance was in the road. “Sam, look out!” you shrieked.

Sam looked up, dropping the phone and slamming the brakes hard. You had to brace yourself on the dashboard in front of you, your body jerking forward and backward in your seat. 

Constance was gone, and you and Sam tried to catch your breaths. 

“Sam? Sam!” Dean’s voice came through the phone.

You picked up the phone from under the glove box. Dean had hung up before you got the chance to tell him Sam was alright.

You turned to the brunet, who swallowed hard and looked into the backseat through the rearview mirror.

You whirled around to look in the backseat, and there Constance was. “Take me home,” she ordered. She looked directly at you. “Take me home!”

“No,” you stated firmly, holding her gaze. 

Constance glared back at you as you heard the doors of the car lock. You wheel around in your seat and try to reopen them. Suddenly, your body was thrust back into the seat as the car began to drive. 

“Sam?” you yelled over the roar of the engine.

“That’s not me!” He tried to grab the steering wheel to drive, but Constance wouldn’t let him. 

You continued to struggle with the doors until the two-- well, three, counting Constance-- of you pulled up to an abandoned house, presumably the Welches’ old house. The windows on both of the two floors had been covered with boards, the paint was peeling off of the wood slats, and the screen door had been ripped. The house looked like it was falling apart more and more with every passing day. It had the stereotypical appearance of a horror movie house.

The engine of the Impala shut off.

“Don't do this,” the younger Winchester pleaded.

Constance flickered in the backseat. “I can never go home,” she moaned, her voice sad.

As if a switch had been flipped in your brain, your face shifted from scared to enlightened. “You're scared to go home.” You turned to look in the back seat, but Constance was gone. As soon as you turned back around, you noticed Constance in between you and Sam on the leather bench seat. 

You jumped, back pressed against the passenger’s side door. Constance climbed on Sam’s lap, shoving him back against the seat hard enough to tilt it backward. 

You tried to lunge for Constance, but she shoved you against the Impala’s door hard enough with a flick of her wrist to send the door flying open and you sailing through the air.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Sam yell.

You skidded to a halt on the rocky gravel surrounding the house, feeling your arms and legs get cut up. The wind was knocked out of you, and your head bounced against the small rocks. 

“Ow,” you groaned, trying to get up. You saw Constance had closed the passenger’s side door once more, and through the window could see her kissing Sam as he reached for the keys.

Another thing you saw was a figure appearing on the other side of the car through the driver’s side window. You hoped to god it was Dean.

You heard whoever it was fire a shot as Sam screamed in what seemed to be pain, so you immediately ducked. A few more shots were fired and you felt safe enough to raise your head.

You scrambled to your feet when you saw the Impala go careening through the porch and into the old Welch house. You ran into the house, being as careful as you could to avoid any of the broken pieces of wood and furniture the car had left in its path.

Dean was quick to follow you, calling out to his younger brother. “You okay?”

Sam groaned. “I think...”

“Can you move?” you asked, leaning through the passenger’s window. You looked him over for serious injury.

“Yeah,” he told you. He reached a hand out to his brother. “Help me?”

You stepped to the side as Dean pulled Sam out through the rolled-down window. 

You noticed Constance picking up a picture frame of her and her children that had fallen to the ground. 

She turned her attention from the picture to you and met your eyes.

She pinned you and the boys against the Impala with a bureau. It hit the boys in their pelvis but nailed you right in the stomach. You groaned in pain, desperately trying to push it off of you. 

You stopped your struggle when a sound caught your ear. It sounded like liquid trickling and watched as a stream of water just thick enough to cover each step cascaded to the ground.  You followed the stream to the top of the stairs to see the dark silhouettes of a little girl and a little boy holding hands.

“You've come home to us, Mommy,” they spoke in chorus.

Constance looked distraught as she got closer to the stairs. They were suddenly gone from the stairs and appeared behind her, hugging her and looking up at her with warm yet slightly disturbing smiles. 

Constance screamed, and she and her children melted to the floor flickering between apparitions of skinless and skeletal forms of humans. They melted into a puddle of an electric purple goo that seeped through the floorboards as the ringing in your ears from Constance’s shrieks subsided. 

You and the Winchesters shoved the bureau over, and you dusted off your hands as Dean spoke.

“So this is where she drowned her kids.”

“That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them,” Sam told you and his brother.

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean slapped him on the chest where holes had been burned through his shirt that you were assumed were the products of Constance. Sam groaned out in pain but laughed nonetheless.

“Actually, it was all (Y/N). I’m just the jackass who drove your car through the side of a house,” Sam smiled, jutting his thumb back at you.

Dean hummed as he continued to walk away, clearly disinterested but making an effort to sound impressed. He leaned on the open window of the passenger’s side door, looking over his baby. “Speaking of that, if you screwed up my car--” he paused, looking back at Sam, “--I’ll kill you.”

“Aw, shame,” you cut in, “Sam’s my favorite Winchester.”

Dean glared at you. “Can it, (Y/N).”

***

You lip-synced the words to AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” which boomed through the speakers of the Impala. You were sat in the backseat, leaning on the front seat between the two Winchesters with your forearms atop their bench seat. You looked over Sam’s shoulder as he opened up a giant map and opened his dad’s journal. He went to tuck a flashlight under his chin so he could actually see what he was doing, but you stopped him.

“I can hold that for you.”

“Thanks,” was his short reply as he handed off the flashlight to you, his eyes never leaving the things on his lap. You clicked the flashlight on and held it over his shoulder as he scanned the map for the coordinates “35-111″ as was written in his dad’s journal.

Sam tapped the spot on the map once he found it. “Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.”

“Charming,” you quipped.

“How far?” came Dean’s question.

“About six hundred miles,” the younger Winchester told his brother.

“Hey, if we shag ass after we drop (Y/N) off in the next town over we could make it by morning,” Dean suggested, looking over at Sam. 

‘This guy is so ready to get rid of me,’ you thought, shaking your head.

Sam cocked his head to the side and looked to his brother. “Dean--”

Dean stared back to the road, his pitch dropping lower and his disappointment apparent. “You're not going.”

“The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there,” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home.”

You clicked the flashlight off, sinking back into the backseat. 

‘Awkward.’

***

Dean’s face was still set in a frown as the Impala pulled up to Sam’s apartment complex. You jumped out of the car as Sam did, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” you told him, squeezing him harder with your eyes shut. You were genuinely disappointed. Sam was so nice and the two of you had become great friends very quickly.

“Hey, you have my number. Call me.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same.” You pulled away from him. “Say ‘hi’ to Jess for me.”

The brunet chuckled. “I will.” He leaned down into the open window of Dean’s car. “Call me if you find him?”

Dean nodded. 

“And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

“Yeah, all right.”

Sam clearly did not know how to end the conversation from there, so he simply patted the inside of the car door twice and turned away. Dean leaned toward the passenger door, calling out to Sam in one last attempt to get him to come with him. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.” 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, which was clearly not the reaction Dean was expecting. He just sighed and waited for you to get back in the car. You had barely shut the door before Dean shoved off. 

You jerked around in your seat. “Easy, tiger. Jesus.” You slumped down in your seat after getting no response from Dean. You crossed your arms and looked out of your window. 

The familiar smells of coconut and tobacco filled your nose, and you immediately straightened up. 

“Turn around,” you told Dean, your eyes wide.

“What? No,” he snorted. “Why?”

“Just do it!”

Your exclamation caught Dean off guard. “Jesus, fine.”

He put the car in reverse and headed back up the street. 

Dean hadn’t even stopped in front of Sam’s apartment complex before you threw the car door open and sprinted toward the apartment as fast as you could.

“Whoa, crazy lady, where are you going?” Dean caught up to you and grabbed your arm, spinning you around. 

“Sam’s apartment. Which one is it?!” You asked in a panic. 

“Uh--” He glanced away from you, still puzzled as to why you were a basketcase at the present moment.

“Dean!”

He looked back at you, shaking his head, but he ran up the stairs and led you to Sam and Jess’s shared apartment. 

He stopped in front of the door, turning back to face you. “Now, why--”

Before he could finish his statement, you used all your might to kick the wooden door in, yelling Sam’s name in concern.

“No!” you heard him yell from another room.

Dean jumped into action, sprinting through the apartment with you hot on his heels. The two of you got to the younger Winchester’s bedroom just in time to see a woman in a white nightgown stained red at her belly from bleeding with blonde hair on the ceiling burst into flames. 

“Jess!” Sam yelled, paralyzed on his bed in shock. He quickly moved one arm to shield his face as the flames got closer to him. “No!”

‘Oh, shit. His girlfriend...’

You shook your thoughts away from you and helped Dean lug a screaming Sam out of the door and out of the apartment complex. You fished through your bag in Dean’s car for your phone and called the fire department as Dean tried to hold Sam back from going back in for his charred girlfriend.

***

Flashes of red and blue broke through the black of night, emanating from police cars and firetrucks all around you. You walked through the chaotic scene of police and firemen holding back onlookers and firemen dousing the remaining embers of the fire in water. Black, charred wood stuck out from the turquoise exterior of the complex, and you could see into the apartment through giant holes that had been burnt out of the wall. 

You walked back over to the boys who stood by the Impala. Sam was fooling with weapons concealed within the hollowed-out bottom of the trunk, and Dean stood next to him, watching his brother’s face. As you got to them, you put a hand on Sam’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He looked up at you, his normally soft and cheery expression suppressed by a look of both desperation and anger. He shut the trunk with a hard slam.

“We got work to do.”

Tags are open and feedback is always appreciated!

Series Rewrite Tags:

@rach5ive​ @ppeachygemss​

[tiaragqueen]

Caught Out

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,8k

✂ Trigger Warning: Suicide attempt, mentions of kidnapping, slight violence, blood, depression, yandere theme

[Edited]

***

The tendency to live in an alternate universe where I’m the pitiful heroine inside my head has led me to write this one-shot. I’m not really familiar with Chrollo, but I hope I’ve caught his personality right. Well, as right as being a yandere can be...

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“Did you really want to die? No one commits suicide because they want to die. Then why do they do it? Because they want to stop the pain.” - Tiffanie DeBartolo

It’s funny how desperation can make you think the unthinkable. And sometimes, you even decide to act upon it.

 You stared at the knife on your hand, glassy eyes narrowed in hesitation. The blade glinted under the light, mocking your weak resolution to end everything right here. You’d thought of this – many times, actually – but actualizing has always been the scariest part. But you couldn’t prolong this any further. One of the Spiders would be here soon and, depending on your luck today, Chrollo might be the one to approach you first.

 Well, you just hoped he wouldn’t. You hoped that they stayed wherever they were for as long as possible.

 But Lady Luck had long left you to rot in this hellhole. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d been so lucky to spend more than a few hours without shackles around your legs. Yes, it was your fault for trying to rebel against him when he was stronger than you in most aspects, but you couldn’t possibly surrender just like that. You had dignity, for God’s sake! You had to fight.

 No, you needed to fight.

 And fought you did. But you lost, just like what that little pessimistic, yet realistic voice inside your head had expected. Chrollo had disarmed you in the blink of an eye and trapped you against the wall. It was a loose grip, but you knew that he could easily snap your neck if he wished to.

 Sometimes, you wondered why he didn’t do so the first time you’d tried to struggle. You weren’t strong, you didn’t have a Nen, and you lacked the skills necessary for combat. You were completely ordinary; neither pretty nor ugly, neither smart nor stupid (not as smart as him, obviously), and neither fast nor slow.

 You belonged with the average people.

 And yet, for some unknown reason, he’d taken an interest in you. He’d said that you’d helped him once when he wasn’t this… this powerful man. You didn’t remember – couldn’t remember this memory he’d been reminiscing so fondly of. A fog of uncertainty and fear had covered your mind, rendering you unable to recall the past. You’d thought that he was being delusional, but the possibility was too far-fetched for you to consider. Besides, Chrollo was too… logical to make up such a ridiculous story, so you had no choice but to believe in him.

 For now, at least.

 You regarded the gleaming blade, thirsty for that crimson liquid. Slowly and shakily, you pointed the tip to your vein. Your heart began to pick up at each second passed in doubt.

 Could you do this?

 Would you do this?

 Were you ready to do this?

 Gulping, you gripped the wooden handle and prepped for the inevitable doom. You could do this. You would do this. You had to do this. There was no other way to save you from your anguish. This was the right choice.

 It was now or never.

 “What do you think you’re doing?”

 You froze, the knife almost pierced through the thin skin. Your mouth went dry when you heard footfalls casually approaching you from behind. Sucking a deep breath through your gritted teeth, you whipped around and mustered up a disarming smile.

 “F-Feitan-san,” you glanced at his taller partner, nodding in greeting. “Phinks-san! You guys… came back early, huh?”

 “Had you listen to our meeting last night, you would’ve known that our mission took less than two hours to complete.” Feitan retorted, hands buried inside the pockets of his baggy clothes.

 You flinched a little at his acrid tone, yet still smiling nonetheless. It was beginning to hurt your cheeks, but you needed to maintain the act to dispel their suspicion. “A-ah, sorry. I had a bit of a... headache last night. That’s why I couldn’t remember much from the meeting.”

 “More importantly,” Phinks changed the topic and took a step forward. “What the hell were you doing?”

 “I…” You gulped, averting your gaze from his probing look. “I was just… experimenting.”

 Feitan squinted his already small eyes until they appeared as mere slits. “Experimenting for what?”

 Damn it! Why did you have to give the wrong answer?! Now he became more suspicious with you. Think fast, [Name]. If they caught on of what you did, they would surely report this to Chrollo.

 “I just… I just wanted to slice some bread.” You grinned nervously, waving the knife around to emphasize your point. “Yeah, I was hungry so I decided to make my food!”

 There was a long, weary sigh before Phinks disappeared from your sight.

 “I must say, [Name]-san, you are a bad liar.” You gasped once you realized that Phinks had disarmed you; the same way Chrollo did when you attempted to murder him in his sleep.

 Yes, you were that bold. You were that cruel to secretly attack a person during their slumber. Then again, why should you be guilty? Why should you apologize for what you’ve done? After all, he was the one who had robbed you of your freedom.

 Even though it meant that you had to be put under closer supervision.

 It was a miracle that none of the Spiders tried to kill you as a payback or became wary with you due to their loyalty to Chrollo. Maybe because you were under his protection. Maybe because he was their leader. Or maybe because he hadn’t bothered to tell them about what had happened during your ‘first night’ together.

 Feitan twirled the knife on his pale hand, scrutinizing a drop of blood that coated the tip. You didn’t even notice that, nor the stinging pain in your wrist. You were too scared of the consequences that loomed over your head now that you’ve failed to convince them.

 Then again, why did you expect them to believe in such a terrible lie? Why did you expect, for just one second, that you could fool people who were smarter than you?

 But it didn’t hurt to hope, right? Although you didn’t succeed, and probably could never succeed, as long as you were still under their watch. At least you’d tried, right? The fact that you’d been brave to proceed with your plan and lie to them should be more than enough.

 ... Right?

 “Leader will surely be disappointed with your rash action,” he drawled. “[Name].”

 “What action?”

 Your breath hitched at his voice. Chrollo calmly entered the kitchen, as though he hadn’t interrupted an important conversation that he shouldn’t have heard. There was no need to give him the benefit of the doubt that he hadn’t listened earlier. He had ears and eyes everywhere, that much you realized. This hideout was his web, and you were the trapped butterfly that struggled to escape. The rest of the Spiders followed, each displaying either curious or cold expressions.

 Oh, great. They were all here now. Guess you could kiss your freedom goodbye, then.

 Feitan stole a glance over his shoulder, still twirling the once harmless tool. You wondered if it was possible to beg him to kill you right this instant, on this spot so you didn’t have to deal with Chrollo.

 “[Name]-san tried to kill herself, but we managed to step in,” Phinks explained on his behalf. “She was just seconds away from stabbing her wrist.”

 “‘Experimenting’, she said.” Feitan piped up, mockery laced his deep voice.

 Out of the others, he was probably the only one who liked you the least. Machi came in second, but she’d learned to accept you over the time. However, she still harbored a slight suspicion that you’d escape one day and report them to the Hunters.

 Yeah, like you could freely waltz out of this hideout without having to fight a gang of highly skilled thieves.

 As for Feitan, he just plain disliked you; mostly because he thought that you were a burden for them. A dead weight, he’d said. You didn’t even feel the slightest bit offended. Why should you be offended when you’d already accepted the truth? Other than that, he never harmed you. Aside from some sarcastic comments that would've deeply wounded your soul had you didn’t acknowledge your flaws, of course.

 Honestly, you could care less about their feelings. It wasn’t as though you were fond of them, either. If given the chance, you would gladly be homeless than living with them. Sure, they had a close relationship with each other to the point where they could be considered a family, but you weren’t a thief like them. You didn’t share the same drive, greed, and loyalty. In fact, you’d felt like you were intruding on their lives the first time Chrollo ‘introduced’ you to them.

 Shalnark whistled and smiled a bit too happy for someone who had listened to the story of a young suicidal lady. This was probably something ordinary for him. “My… You’re brave, [Name]-chan! Seems like the shackles didn’t do their job correctly, huh?”

 “Really…?” Chrollo ignored Shalnark’s snide remark and peered towards your direction. His expression was still calm and composed as always. “Is that true, [Name]?”

 You ducked your head from his gentle yet intimidating stare, swallowing the thick saliva on your throat. It didn’t matter if the others were watching you right now; none of them could come close to the intensity of his scrutiny.

 “I…” Should you stay quiet? Should you lie again? But Feitan and Phinks already knew the truth, anyway. And besides, Pakunoda was here too. It would be impossible to come up with a plausible excuse. “… Yes.”

 In the end, you could never hide anything from him.

 Chrollo smiled and nodded in understanding. Of course, he understood. He was the reason behind your near-suicide. He wasn’t delusional. He probably had thought about this before. You were stubborn, and he knew that you’d rather die than submit to him.

 That bastard.

 “I see…” Chrollo closed his eyes, that cold smile remained. “Well, everyone, you can take a rest now. I’m sure you’re tired from that mission earlier. [Name] and I need to discuss something in private.” He opened his eyes and held out a hand, his smile softened slightly. “Shall we go to our room, [Name]?”

 A single tear dripped from your left eye as you put your hand on his. Chrollo intertwined your fingers together and gently tugged you towards your shared room. Even if you were to turn around and beg for the Spiders to help, you knew that they were more obedient to him.

 Not you.

 Because you were merely his lover. Your safety wasn’t and would never be their top priority unless stated otherwise. And Chrollo was strong, anyway. He could either protect or harm you more than you could bear. More than you could stand. 

 You were alone. Utterly, hopelessly, and helplessly alone.

[dylinski]

Stalker Boy

Warnings: Language, alcohol, smoking, anxiety, slow burn

Relationships: Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Word Count: 1440

Author: @dylan-obrien-fanblog

A/N: This is kinda short, but I felt like it was a good place to end. The next part is going to be a lot and I didn’t want to break it up which would make this really long. Feedback is appreciate as always. Obviously I don’t know Dylan or how he would act or anything so this is all based on my idea of how he would be.

Part 1

“Come on Y/N, please go out with us tonight!” Kayla begged despite knowing how much you loathed going out. You were more of a homebody and preferred the comforts of your blankets and laptop. Looking at Kayla you glared with annoyance and a hint of disgust, but she ignored the response and continued to pester you.

“You know I hate going out. What’s the point? Besides, you know I’m no fun. I just don’t like being around so many people.” 

“Yeah, but tonight is special.”

“Special?”

“Mhm, very special.” Kayla winked as if you were supposed to know. “C’mon, get dressed. You can pick something out from my closet. I can’t be seen with you wearing your clothes.” She was half joking while she grabbed you by the wrists and lifted you from the computer chair.

“But my movie…” you said pitifully as you gave up on fighting Kayla. You knew it was a losing battle from the start but wouldn’t give in without giving the illusion of standing your ground. After an hour of playing dress up and pampering, Kayla was finally satisfied with her work and presented you to the full body mirror to see. You hated it but knew Kayla loved it, so being the good friend you are, you looked at her and gave her a half-assed ‘thanks’. You both grabbed your coats and headed downstairs to find a cab.

You and Kayla had met up with some of her friends who seemed to ignore your presence. You didn’t understand why Kayla wanted you there when she knew you wouldn’t fit in with the rest of the group. You had just entered the third bar when you were finally over the whole outing. 

“Hey, I’m gonna get some air.”

“Okay.” Kayla didn’t seemed bothered and frankly was probably too drunk to care. You headed outside and embraced the cold damp air, escaping the confines of the crowded establishment full of sweaty and drunk people. You found the brick wall and leaned against it closing your eyes and taking in all the midnight air had to offer.

“Hey...” you jumped at the sound of his voice, glaring at him with terror and annoyance. You hated that someone had found you and invaded your space. It was hard to see his face, but you could tell from the single dimly lit street lamp that he was tall and slender. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. My intention of saying ‘hey’ was to avoid this, so I guess that failed.” He laughed at himself under his breath as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a squished box of cigarettes. You were surprised that he smoked since his voice was so soft and warm. Curious, you took a few steps towards stranger to get a better look.

“You want one?” He mumbled with a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips as he offered the box. You shook your head, so he shrugged and shoved the box back into his pocket and exchanged it for a lighter. He lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply then let out a long puff of smoke from his lips. You watched him and examined every move and motion, finding him intriguing and unlike most people you ran into at bars. 

“My names Dylan.” he said startling you again, breaking the concentration on analyzing him. He raised his eyebrows and you realized he was expecting a reciprocal response. 

Embarrassed, you mumbled, “Y/N.” 

“So why are you out here? Obviously it’s not to smoke.” He laughed at himself again, happy with the little joke he made.

“I...uh, just needed some space.”

“I get that. All that can be...a little much sometimes.” He spoke as he motioned back to the building. You couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“I should get back before the guys think someone kidnapped me.” Dylan took one more drag and threw his cigarette on the ground, stomping out the light. “Maybe if I see you inside I can buy you a drink.” He half smiled and waved as he turned and headed back to the entrance.

“Shit.” You didn’t realize you had said the word out loud until it echoed back. Looking around to make sure no one heard, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I had just decided to go home. I hate going out and being around people and then this guy shows up. Grunting, you crossed your arms in annoyance. From what you could see on the dark street, he was attractive but what was even more intriguing was his personality. The way he spoke, the way he moved. You huffed and puffed as you turned around and headed to the entrance of the bar, recanting your previous decision. You hesitated as you reached for the handle and saw Dylan through the window, already doubting yourself as this was uncharacteristic. He was laughing and smiling with his friends. He had the biggest and most beautiful smile that you had ever seen. His short brown hair glistened under the bar lights and his eyes, a honey brown that could consume your soul if you stared too long. He had some scruff on his cheeks and around his lips, but you could see freckles and moles through the hair. His nose slightly stuck up but it was cute. This was the first time you had seen all his features. In shock of how his features made you feel, only one word came to mind. Fuck.

You saw him with his friends and felt guilty, not wanting to interrupt and thought you didn’t belong there. Instead of risking utter embarrassment and rejection, you decided to avoid the whole situation together. Going back into the bar, you found Kayla and her friends, trying to be as stealthy as possible.

“Hey, Kayla, I’m just going to go home.”

“Fine, but I don’t understand why you have to always be such a party pooper.” Kayla pouted at you and then stuck her tongue out. She was extremely intoxicated. 

You turn and headed for the door in a rush, paying no mind to your inebriated friend, but Dylan saw you the moment you walked back in. 

DYLAN POV

The moment she entered the room, all his attention landed on her. Puzzled, he watched as she approached what he assumed were her friends and then head back towards the door. “Hey guys, I’ll be right back,” he told his buddies as he pushed through the people at the bar to get to her before she left. He lost her in the crowd but finally made it to the door. He flew through the entrance, scouring the street for Y/N but couldn’t find her. He frowned and turned back to the door with a look of defeat on his face.

“YAAAS” Dylan was startled by the shouting coming from the bar and realized it was the girl that Y/N was talking to before she left. With excitement and hope on his face he had an idea. 

“Um, hey. Do you know Y/N?”

“Oh my god, yaaas. That girl is my biatch.” He could tell she was drunk by the way she approached him and how she started to hang herself all over him made him uncomfortable.

“Do you think I could get her number or something?”

“Uhm, how do I know you’re not some creepy stalker or murderer?” Kayla slurred her words but still managed to get them out.

Slightly amused, Dylan chuckled, “Well, I’m not.”

“Okay.” Kayla grabbed her phone and started scrolling. Dylan was surprised and horrified at how easy that was. 

“Give me your phone.” Dylan fumbled as he pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to Kayla. Her fingers moved slow and bumbled as she attempted to type in Y/N’s number. “How does your phone even work?”

“Um, here let me try.” Dylan awkwardly grabbed both phones and was able to find Y/N’s number in her contacts. He was distracted by her contact photo. He knew she was beautiful but didn’t realize just how much from the darkness of the street. He realized Kayla would want her phone back so he saved her number and managed to send himself the photo too.

“Thanks.” He handed Kayla back her phone,

“No problem stalker boy.” He raised his eyebrows and shook his head as he smirked and returned to him friends. Kayla was right though, he didn’t want to seem like a stalker. He did just get her number from her friend, so he decided to wait to text her for a couple days. 

Part 2

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 50

Last Time: Beard went into Papa Bear Mode, Greed pulled a Vegeta, and Mrs. Bradley was very confused and upset. Onwards!

Episode 50 - “Upheaval in Central” We’ve got the Beret!Officer from last ep talking over the title, saying that they can kill everyone besides Roy. Cue gunshots… Yup, the Officer’s just standing there in shock while all of his men are on the ground, clutching busted kneecaps or wrists. You fools pulled guns on Riza, what did you- Oh ok there’s a bunch of plain-clothes conspirators up in the rafters, and another guy with spiky hair putting a gun to Officer’s head. Where did all these guys come from? While that’s going on, Mrs. Bradley is facing two unfortunate possibilities; either the country is attempting a coup against her husband… or her husband has abandoned her. Roy “doesn’t know”, but promises to continue to protect her. Also, if she could maybe possibly use her position as spouse of the Fuhrer to pardon them once this is all over, that’d be greeeeeat. Now they’re on the move to avoid the commando’s backup, Roy’s being updated by Spiky Hair who apparently knows him (manga character?), learns he’s still at the wreckage and confirms Mrs. Bradley doesn’t know the truth just yet. Now, back to scaring off the hapless mooks! Said mooks’ boss is very upset that his men haven’t killed the five meddlers of the Conspiracy yet. Then reports start coming in that they’ve got a full platoon of rebels now, and that while they have a bunch of casualties there haven’t been any deaths. Whaaa? You mean the Good Guys are trying to fight nonlethally? Who would ever think of such a thing? Apparently not the rest of the Amestrian military, the mooks keep spending so much time wondering why they aren’t already dead that our heroes keep incapacitating them while they talk. Central Officer takes this as a personal insult, orders even more mooks out to get wounded.

The remaining Generals in the War Room are whining about how their troops getting systematically whittled down, until Armstrong the Great points out that it really should be expected. Think of it like the Military Police of Attack on Titan: While you’ve got more troops along the borders fighting in wars with other countries, these troops are in the very center of Amestris, with not nearly as much experience as those who are fighting daily on the borders. Armstrong the Great even points out their feeble performance against Mr. Freeze in the first episode, how a single rogue Alchemist decimated them and nearly froze over the entire city. Now they’re facing a rogue Alchemist with experienced and determined soldiers behind him.

The other General takes offense to the truth and her offer to step in and help, barks that she’s only there as a hostage to ensure her loyal troops toe the line (oh he is so dead). Armstrong the Great just laughs as Skyrim Chanting starts up.

[Armstrong the Great]: “Hahaha! You don’t understand a single thing about the resolve of my troops! Your plan is useless. The only law the men of Briggs know is Survival of the Fittest. They know to abandon me if confronted with a crisis. Even if you were to murder me in cold blood, my troops would simply write me off for being too weak. They don’t need me! Those men can act as their own force. That’s the strength of the Briggs army! Don’t even begin to assume that you know the soldiers I’ve trained!” Mowhawk. White Uniforms. Sandals? Ok so Buccy’s standing with some other unique Briggs troops and soldiers in the white Briggs coats in an apparent cellar. But sandals? And there’s a space in the back with two glowing red eyes. Who are these new people? Guess we’ll find out later, because the Briggs soldiers are on the move and the Oh Shit alarms are going off in Central, as Armstrong the Great “wonders” if her bear-killing soldiers will have any trouble with the dolls of Central. Let the curbstomp begin! But seriously, where were they? They mentioned a cellar but I don’t think they’d all fit under Madame Christmas’ bar even it wasn’t blown up. [Spiky Hair]: “The Armstrong Mansion?” Oooooh, duh. They even ‘subtly’ pointed it out when Roy visited Armstrong the Great after the timeskip, of course that’s where the Northern troops hid. Ok so apparently Spiky Hair is Charlie, one of his own subordinates comes running up asking for ammo. What, you aren’t getting enough spare bullets from the soldiers you’ve wounded? Or the dead now, seeing as the Briggs troops are in play. Or they’ve got a supply unit that hasn’t shown up yet. [Roy]: “Look guys, if it comes down to it just leave me behind.” [Charlie/Other]: “Roger that!” [Offended!Roy]: “You could at least pretend like you’re willing to die by my side!” Uh oh, but it looks like the Military’s realized they’re out of ammo. They make a push- and nearly get run over by a Funny Bear truck. Ooh, here’s that supply unit! With a familiar face, it’s Riza’s friend Rebecca! And oh my Leto that was certainly worth the wait, rifles bullets and bazookas galore! Roy gets a new rifle from the driver, a lady with a covered face? Someone who knows the Colone- … … … [HELL TO THE FUCK YEAH]: “Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, returning to active duty without permission, sir!”

Yessssssssssss Sorry, give me a minute. I need to walk around with a stupidly large grin on my face for a while. Ok, I’m better now. Let’s continue. Aw, Rebecca’s all upset that she came all this way only to find a bunch of “sissies” restraining themselves since they’re in the city. As she loads a friggin mortar Leto damn woman how is Grumman still alive? Oh ok it was a smoke bomb, just enough to disrupt the military so they can load into the truck and drive away. Rebecca’s showing off all the cool Xingese weapons Ross brought back. But she procured the rest of the conventional weapons through someone else? She says she’ll let “him” tell Roy, they hook up a radio. [Roy]: “This is Colonel Roy Mustang speaking. I’m honored to have your support.” [!!!]: “Heh heh, man, whose ass do you think you’re kissing?” [Roy]: *shock* [!!!!!]: “I’d prefer if we kept things casual!” Oh my Leto it’s Havoc! Running a General Store/Conspiracy Quartermaster! yessssss [Havoc]: “So, who do I send the bill to?” [Roy]: “The office of the Fuhrer. And start a tab!” yesssssss Mid-ep pictures of Ross and Havoc being awesome (all my babies are coming back I’m so happy!) and Beard pushing up his glasses. Seeing smoke and hearing sirens in the distant city, Ed and the crew (minus Greed and Al) are preparing to make their move. Ooh, and Beard says he has a countermeasure if the TC gets activated, but just says he’d rather stop it in the first place. So we’ve got two unspoken plans going on, this is looking better and better! Wait no Beard’s saying they need to destroy Uncle’s “flask” in order to defeat him and free the souls he gathered. Eh, just vague enough that I won’t count it as a stated plan. As for finding the guy, Scar’s going to show them the tunnel he and May found way back when I thought Beard was the bad guy. Lion’s staying behind because of his injuries, as is Marcoh for his wanted status and Yoki because Yoki. Ed takes a moment to say goodbye to Al still stuck in the Dome, they bump fists against the earthwork as Pride is still tapping Al’s helmet with a stick wait. Wait wait WAIT NO LETO-DAMNIT the Goth is clearly doing quick taps and longer taps it’s obviously Morse Code he’s sending a signal to the surviving Goths damnit Al take your helmet back! Ugh ok so while that ticking timebomb counts down we’ve got May running through Central with her covered jar, urged on by Envy to reach Uncle before he reveals the secret of immortality. She slips into the tunnel just before troops arrive to block the area off. Back in Central oh buddy you really don’t want to do that. The Military Police General is pointing a gun at Armstrong the Great, demanding she call off her soldiers. She’s all “What? But you stripped me of my northern command, remember?” But the General just whines that they’ve been chosen to ascend with Uncle and all the sacrifices are necessary- Nope! Just like with Raven, Armstrong the Great’s gotten bored of listening to their stupidity and stabs his arm while drawing a pistol on the other general, chiding them for being Armchair Generals who don’t dirty their own hands, espousing the “necessity of sacrifice” while never making any of their own. Also, you threatened Armstrong the Great, so die. The Mighty Armstrong? What are you- oh shit, did nobody tell you about the Promised Day? Holy crap, if The Mighty Armstrong wasn’t updated then he’s still working for the Military, just sees his comrades apparently go crazy and start shooting up soldiers and setting the city on fire. Someone please update this poor man- Oh hey, it’s Brosh! Speaking of updates, someone tell this guy that his partner isn’t dead, he’s had to spend all this time thinking she was killed by Roy! [Brosh]: “That devious coward! First he murdered Lieutenant Ross and now he’s kidnapped the Fuhrer’s wife?! The man has got to be pure evil!” Ooof, even if he doesn’t know the Promised Day plan The Mighty Armstrong did know Ross was alive, he’s probably feeling a bit guilty for not telling Brosh. Fu’s off to the side, overhears The Mighty Armstrong being told about his sibling’s actions, and heads off to try and find Ling in the chaos. But he can’t sense his new Goth nature, what with Uncle giving off Big Bad Vibes underground. That have grown stronger? Uncle’s sitting in his pipe chair, lounging as machinery rumbles and pounds, disturbing mice and dogs even outside the city wait nevermind it’s not the machinery that’s making that noise. It’s the Littlest Goth with his helmet and stick, tapping out a message. Al, take you Leto-damned helmet back!

Three quick taps. Three long taps. Three quick taps. And Uncle opens his eyes. Al and the others have arrived at the cordoned off tunnel, think there’s too many to fight past. Come on guys, it’s just a couple of Military Police, you’ll be fine. That’s your only way in any case, it’s not like you can just manipulate the ground beneath your feet to make a new tunnel OH WAIT. Or is there actually another way? Oh yeah, the Third Laboratory! With only three guards at the gate too, that’ll be easy. Hold up, Ed says he has a plan- Right, I keep forgetting that he’s an official State Alchemist, he can just order them to stand aside and- [Ed]: “Oh please help me! That murderous Ishvalan Scar is trying to kill me!” [Scar]: “wait what.” [Guard]: “*gasp* Oh my, that man’s on the wanted list! Stay back little boy, we three Muggle Soldiers will tell this murderer of multiple State Alchemists to surrender!” [Ed]: “Mwahaha!” [Guard]: “Aaargh! No, our consciousnesses! We need tho-” Man, Ed can be a jerk when- [Beard]: “...that was a mean thing to do.” [Ed]: “Aw shut up, c’mon.” No, sorry Ed, but I’ve got to side with your old man on this one. Meek nerds in labcoats cower as our heroes brush past them in the hallways, until Ed finds the poorly-transmuted doorway and oh for Leto’s sake do you have to put tacky demons or skulls on everything you Transmute, you deranged midget? Anyways Ed made a new door, let’s continue. Oh yeah, I remember how Roy’s Crew had to split up to take both hallways last time. So how are the groups getting split? Apparently Beard leading one, and ooh Ed has to travel with Scar. Ed’s not happy with this, especially when Beard raises the valid but still condescending point that Scar could still fight against Uncle when Ed’s power was shut down…. Wait. Wait wait wait WAIT. Did you… did you seriously never get any lessons in Alkahestry? Not a single one? Dude. You KNEW that Uncle could shut down your conventional Alchemy. The whole POINT of tracking down May and Scar was to get lessons from the little girl. And you learned NOTHING of the discipline? Wow. Just, wow. So our Protagonist gets saddled with the repentant murderer because he’d be curbstomped on his own. Meanwhile Beard takes… nobody? Because he’s already so OP? [Beard]: “On second thought…” [Lan Fan]: “Huh?” *Old Man Flirt Mode Engage* [Beard]: “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a bodyguard, so I might as well take the young lady with me.” Somewhere Fu and Greedling feel rushes of protectiveness and anger about lecherous old men. After the groups separate and the Chimeras grumble about the “pervy old man”, Beard actually take a moment to Iroh at Lan Fan, lets her go to search for Ling. And like that she’s off, and Beard’s on his own. Oooh, shit. That’s the Golem Room. An officer’s just barged in with a labcoat running after him, shouting about how they haven’t been tested yet. But Officer thinks there’s no better test than a field test, and starts pulling levers. Tubes of liquid and shattered red stones start glowing, the pipes make a heartbeat sound, and red sparks OH LETO NOPE NOPE NOPE I did not need to see eyes pop up on their foreheads and AAARGH they’re all screaming nope nope nope Cue lots of dramatic head turns from characters at The Hell Is That Noise, and fade to black. Grrrrreat. This is going to go swell, I’m sure. End credits. Jeez. So on one hand, this episode had me grinning like a loon as characters came back from offscreen in awesome ways. On the other hand, that noise is going to give me nightmares tonight, and I really, really don’t want to see those creepy Golems moving.

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Chapter Ten:

The One With Sleep-Deprived Orphans

After dinner, Violet and her siblings bid the Quagmires goodbye as the Quagmires bid the three rather unfortunate orphans good luck. Violet led her siblings to the athletic field. All three children’s hearts were in their chests. Violet was mentally preparing herself to fight Olaf and his lackeys if they were to try anything. Klaus was cautiously looking around the three siblings as they walked, the silhouette of Olaf getting closer and closer to them with every step. Sunny had her teeth bared, ready to fight if she needed to.

“I see you’re on time tonight, orphans,” Coach Genghis said smiling.

“Again, you said ‘after dinner’...” Klaus explained cautiously. “Since there is no specified time we can not be late or on time,”

Genghis rolled his eyes at the orphan boy. “Less talking, more running,” he barked as he blew his whistle. “You are going to run laps just like yesterday,” he blew his whistle again. The three siblings looked at one another miserably.

“All night?” Violet asked annoyed.

Genghis shrugged. “Maybe…”

“But…” Klaus interjected.

Genghis blew his whistle again as Violet motioned for her siblings to start running ahead of her. Sunny and Klaus groaned in annoyance as they both started running. Violet took a second to glare at Genghis.

He blew his whistle at her. She stood her ground.

“Get moving, orphan,” He barked at her.

“...you will pay for what you’ve done. That’s a promise I intend to keep,” she replied as she began to run after her siblings.

As the three ran, they would occasionally take turns looking around the athletic field for any sign of either Quagmire, wondering if the Quagmires were able to sneak out of Nero’s atrocious concert and was now watching them in case Olaf put his actual plan to a start. The children ran lap after lap after lap just like the night before. All three felt like their legs were going to give in on them.

Klaus eventually broke the silence. “What if…” he said, out of breath, “he plans to torture us until we just hand over the fortune?”

“Depriving someone of sleep is a form of torture,” Violet commented.

“Tired,” Sunny commented as she began to slow down, she picked up her pace the second Genghis noticed that she had stopped running.

He blew his whistle at the children. “You just bought yourselves another hour,” he said laughing.

Sunny growled at the man angrily, she turned to her siblings, “Sorry,” she muttered.

Violet and Klaus looked at Sunny. “It’s okay, Sunshine,” Klaus insisted.

“He was going to keep making us run either way. He’s just trying to make you feel guilty,” Violet pointed out.

“Look, if giving him the fortune means I don’t have to run anymore,” Klaus whined. “I’m so close to signing it over,”

Violet gave a small chuckle at that. “We can do this,” she told them. Although, both younger orphans could tell that she, too, was just as tired and exhausted as they were. She could try her best to hide it, but it was written all over her face.

The silence between the siblings continued for several more laps until Violet eventually couldn’t take the silence anymore. “I know we should reserve our energy for running,” she began. “But...I can’t take the mundane silence anymore,”

“Same here,” Klaus sighed as Sunny nodded her head in agreement. “What do you want to talk about?”

Violet smiled at her younger siblings, “Maybe...we can spend this time to get to know each other,” she said. “You guys can go first if you’d like,”

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another. “You want to know how we got here, first?” Klaus asked.

Violet nodded her head slowly. “Pyro,” Sunny started, which meant, “Well it all began when our parents sent us to Briny Beach and then we met Mr. Poe there and he told us our parents had perished in a terrible fire,” Klaus quickly translated for Sunny.

“We were then sent to live with…” Klaus began, breathing heavily. “.,..with…”

“Count Olaf,” Violet guessed.

“Yeah, him,” Klaus admitted. “He...he was the absolute worse,”

“Pelzer!” Sunny explained, which meant, “He was horribly abusive towards us but especially Klaus,”

Klaus frowned as he hesitantly translated for Sunny. Violet gave her brother a small frown.

“He...he had this insane idea to run us over with a train. I had overheard him so I explained to him that his logic was illogical because if we were to die then he’d get nothing…” Klaus said. “The next day...he kidnapped Sunny and…”

“Avem,” Sunny interjected, which meant, “He stuffed me in a fucking birdcage. During this time that I was separated from Klaus...he did something to Klaus...but I still don’t know what because Klaus won’t tell me,”

Klaus looked to the ground as he translated only half of what Sunny had said. Sunny glared at him. “Organorum!” she yelled at him, despite being tired. This was Sunny’s way of saying, “Don’t leave out the part about how he traumatized you,”

Klaus looked from Sunny to Violet. “I...I foolishly tried to rescue her...and I was…” he closed his eyes, shook his head. “I was...for lack of better word...punished for my rescue attempt,” he wiped a few tears from his eyes.

“How?” Violet asked.

“I...I would rather not talk about it,” Klaus admitted. “Just...know...whatever he did, I’m still not over it,”

“Obvi,” Sunny commented, which meant, “Obviously,”

“A social worker...came to the house and he tried to help us…but to no avail,” Klaus explained trying to move past that specific topic. “Eventually, someone called the police but Olaf escaped after warning us he’d be back,”

“Monty!” Sunny added, which meant, “We were then sent to live with Uncle Monty. He was so sweet. He was a herpetologist, he was unfortunately murdered by Count Olaf while he was disguised as Stephano,”

Klaus translated for Sunny. “Monty...was the first time after our parents’ untimely death where we felt...happy and safe. But Olaf ruined that,”

“Kronk!” Sunny chimed in, which meant, “Then some guy named Kronk, who claimed he was working for the Herpetological Society but we later found out he was lying, had come to help us. He helped us prove to Mr. Poe that Olaf was Stephano in disguise,”

Klaus translated for his sister before adding, “Olaf escaped again and Kronk had disappeared. We were then sent to live with our Aunt Josephine, who was better than Olaf but not a very good guardian. She had fallen for Olaf’s disguise hook, line, and sinker. He had forced her to write a will instructing we were to be left in his care. He had almost won if it weren’t for Sunny’s brilliant idea to eat peppermints, which we are allergic to,”

“I’m allergic to peppermint, too,” Violet mentioned. “We have something in common,”

Klaus and Sunny smiled. “You get that from Mother,” Klaus explained.

“I know, my father told me,”

“Storm,” Sunny added, which meant, “Then we had to survive a storm...which is a lot more difficult than you’d believe,” Klaus translated as he laughed.

“Then Sunny had the crazy idea of stealing a sailboat and sailing across a leech-infested lake amid fucking hurricane but before we could, a ferry operator named Steve Barkin had offered us a ride. It was...weird. He had life jackets and raincoats prepared like he knew he’d need them,” Klaus explained.

Violet looked down at the ground, sighing. “Did...you ever see Kronk’s face?” she asked curiously.

“No, he wore a bee-keepers mask,” Klaus explained. “Which is still very odd,”

“What did he sound like?”

“He had a deep voice. It’s weird, he had the voice of someone who you would think was cruel and scary but he was kind and helpful,”

“What about Steve?”

Klaus thought about it for a second. “Same,”

“Did...you ever see Steve’s face?” Violet asked.

“Yeah,” Klaus said, “Why?”

“Do you have the pictures on you?”

“Yeah,”

“Take them out, will you?” Violet asked as Klaus slid his hand in his pocket and took out one of the photos. She pointed at her father, who stood at the far end of the picture. “Did he resemble him?”

Klaus’ eyes widened for a second. “yeah...I mean he didn’t look completely like this...it’s like he was,”

“Wearing a disguise?” Violet interrupted.

“Olaf,” Sunny mentioned, which meant, “Like Olaf?”

“Wait… so...your father was...helping us the whole time not just at Lucky Smells?” Klaus asked, his heart sinking in his chest. He felt guilty. He felt like Violet’s misfortune was his and Sunny’s fault, but mainly his. If he was able to handle his own, then Violet’s father would have never needed to get involved and she could still be safe and happy.

“What happened after that?” Violet asked curiously.

“Immergo,” Sunny continued, which meant, “Well after we survived the hurricane, we had found Aunt Josephine’s hiding spot through figuring out codes,”

Once Klaus had said the word ‘codes’ as he translated for Sunny. Violet’s heart stopped. She turned to her brother, “You know how to code?”

“Huh?”

“Do you...did they…” Violet was trying to figure out how she should word her question.

“Who’s they?” he asked confused.

“Who taught you how to code?”

“No one,” Klaus explained. “It was fairly simple,”

Violet slowly nodded. “Then?”

“We found her, convinced her to come back with us. Our boat started sinking cause her dumb ass ate a banana and didn’t tell us. We thought Steve...I mean...your father was coming back to rescue us but it turned out to be that fucker,” Klaus said pointing at Olaf. “He threw her to the leeches, but not after she tried to bargain our lives for hers,”

“Wow, I already don’t like her,” Violet said angrily.

“We managed to convince Poe of his disguise and we were sent to Lucky Smells,” Klaus said. “But I don’t remember much of that... because I had been hypnotized,”

Violet frowned as both older orphans looked down at Sunny. “Recap,” Sunny said, which meant, “My turn to tell the story,”

Sunny explained in great detail the two younger orphans’ adventure in Lucky Smells. From being forced to work for gum and coupons, to Klaus being tripped by the Hook Handed Man and being taken to the optometrist. Sunny described how she felt waiting that entire day for her brother to return, how she had spent the rest of the day with Phil or Charles. Even detailing how she made it to Charles’ library and finding the page with their father’s handwriting. She explained how devastated she had felt when Klaus finally arrived back but it seemed to her as though he was dead. She told Violet about how Klaus had nearly killed her, not on his own accord, of course. Which when Klaus heard this, he glared daggers at the Coach who sat on the bleachers picking his teeth. Sunny detailed how Klaus’ eyes had changed back to their normal color so she knew that he was back but was terrified when he had to go to the optometrist again. She then described the scene where the children realized just where Olaf had been hiding the entire time during their stay there and how Klaus was so blind, he was spinning in circles trying to find Olaf. This made Violet chuckle at her younger brother.

“Cookies,” Sunny explained, which meant, “Then when he was trying to scare me by telling me what he was going to do to Klaus, I got off the couch and began to threaten him. He was so scared of me that he threw cookies at me and ran into the room that Klaus was being held in,”

“We are definitely related,” Violet commented. Sunny smiled up at her big sister.

“Bite,” Sunny explained, which meant, “He traumatized Klaus so I traumatized him. He freaks out like a little bitch when I try to bite him,”

Klaus and Violet laughed at this. Sunny waited for them to stop giggling for her to finish her story about their stay in Paltryville. She explained how she had tried to open the door to rescue Klaus but she was too short but during her attempt, she had overheard Orwell use the secret word.

“Inor,” she explained to Violet.

“She means ‘inordinate’,” Klaus explained.

“Ooh, that is a big word...no wonder it was difficult for you to say it,”

“Zombie,” Sunny continued, which meant, “So then Orwell and Olaf tried to make a hypnotized Klaus kill Charles in hopes of getting us back into Olaf’s custody,”

She opened her mouth and pointed at her teeth. “Hook,” she explained, which meant, “This is when I had sword fought a grown woman with my bare teeth,”

Both Klaus and Violet could not believe their ears as Sunny continued to explain. She detailed how she had nearly lost the swordfight and she would have been murdered if it weren’t for ‘Sir’ arriving.

Sunny looked up at Violet, who looked down at her. “Hero,” she said, which meant, “Your father is a hero...he figured out the word to unhypnotize Klaus and save me from Orwell,”

As Klaus translated for Sunny, Violet felt a tear in her eye.

“Sunny’s right,” Klaus yawned. “Your father is a hero...if it weren’t for him…”

“I know,” Violet replied quickly. “Don’t...don’t finish that sentence...I can’t imagine losing you before ever meeting you,” she said quietly.

“And...well...Olaf escaped and we ended up here,” Klaus finished.

“That’s...a lot of sadness and woe,”

“Yeah,” Sunny said sadly. “Just us,”

“It was just us…” Klaus explained turning to Violet as the three children ran another lap. “It was just Sunny and I...but now…”

“Just us…” Sunny said holding out three fingers, “.,.three,”

Violet smiled at that as she noticed that the rays of sun rising, she was thankful. She and her siblings could get a little rest before school and work. Finally, Genghis blew his whistle. “You may go to your shack!” he barked.

The day that followed was vastly similar to the day prior except the children were even more tired from running laps rather than sleeping for the second night in a row. The three were still very confused as to what Olaf’s plan was. Like the night prior, nothing happened. All he had them do was run laps...that is it. But unlike the day prior, the children were too tired to use any brainpower to think of a way for Olaf to get their fortunes by forcing them to run laps all night.

Violet was unable to pay attention to any of Remora’s stories, she was even dozing off a couple of times. Isadora would notice that Violet’s head had dropped in her arms, and she’d wait until she knew for a fact that Remora wasn’t paying the two girls any attention before waking up Violet, who would barely open her eyes but gave Isadora a grateful smile.

Klaus was also unable to even hold the ruler in his hand. Each time that he and Duncan would pass Duncan’s ruler, he would accidentally drop it. Duncan understood why Klaus was this way and didn’t mind picking the ruler up each time it fell to the ground. Klaus had tried to pick it up a few times, but he would become imbalanced, nearly falling to the ground. Duncan had to catch him quickly before Klaus plummeted to the ground. Carmelita would snicker each time Klaus dropped the boys’ shared ruler, but Klaus was too tired to care.

Sunny was unable to do any of her secretarial duties, she was unable to keep her eyes open. She was extremely irritable that every time that Nero yelled at her, she would yell back not caring about the consequences. When Nero had asked her why she was slacking, she refused to answer him because she knew that he wouldn’t care or understand her and she didn’t have the energy or patience to even try.

By lunchtime, the three children awaited to discuss the previous evening with the Quagmire triplets, who weren’t as sore and not nearly as tired as they were. One reason was that they had been hiding behind the bleachers, spying on Genghis and their friends, instead of running laps all night. The other reason was that the Quagmires had done their spying in shifts. After their friends had run the first few laps and there was no sign of them stopping, the two triplets had decided to alternate between Duncan spying and Isadora sleeping and Isadora spying with Duncan sleeping. The two siblings had promised each other that they would wake up the sleeping one if the spying one noticed anything unusual.

“I had the last shift,” Duncan explained, “So my sister didn’t see the end of S.O.R.E but it doesn’t matter. All that happened was that Coach Fuckface finally let you stop running laps and let you go back to the shack.”

Klaus slowly nodded as he and Sunny were leaning up against Duncan and Violet was leaning up against Isadora. Duncan and Isadora looked at one another giving their friends a saddened look. “What?” Violet yawned.

“Don’t look now but…” Duncan began.

“Carmelita is coming this way,” Isadora finished.

“No...no...no…” Klaus whined hitting his fist on the table. “I want sleep...I need sleep,”

“Maybe...she’s just coming over to tease us?” Violet asked hopefully.

“Guess what, cake sniffers!” Carmelita yelled.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” Violet snapped. “Can’t you see our baby sister is sleeping?”

Sunny had taken the opportunity to use her brother and his boyfriend as a makeshift bed. “I don’t give a fuck what the cake sniffing baby is doing,” Carmelita said. “Coach Genghis wanted me to give you another message.”

“Let me guess,” Duncan replied. “He wants them to meet him after dinner at the athletics field,”

“Yep!” Carmelita replied. “Now where’s my tip,”

“No tip today,”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Duncan gave us the message, technically. Not you,” Isadora explained.

“You cake sniffers owe me three tips!” she yelled.

“Get out of here before you get a hair full of spaghetti,” Violet warned.

Carmelita glared at Violet. “Fine,” she said as she noticed Duncan’s book bag on the table. Before the two awake orphans could stop her, she pushed it on to the ground with all her might. The bookbag fell to the ground with a loud thud! Which woke Sunny up. Sunny, being a toddler and being sleep deprived began to throw a fit by crying.

“Don’t cry like your cry baby brother,” Carmelita teased Sunny.

Klaus and Duncan glared at Carmelita as Sunny continued to cry. “Sleep!” she yelled desperately.

“Too-da-loo, cake-sniffing orphans,” Carmelita said as she twirled and tried to walk away.

Violet looked to Sunny, who was still crying and waving her tiny fists around. Violet stood up slamming her hands on the table. “ That’s it! Spats! ” she yelled. “You want to make a baby cry!” She stood up quickly and took a few steps towards Carmelita, who turned around to face the angry older sister.

Isadora sat back to watch the scene that would have followed. “Isa,” Duncan called out. “Stop her,”

“No, this is going to be funny,”

“Isa,” Duncan cried. “I would but I’m trying to calm down, Sunny.”

Isadora sighed as she stood up and grabbed Violet’s hand. Violet was stomping her feet to the bratty little girl, who looked both intimidated and regretful.

Violet stopped as she felt Isadora’s hand slip into hers. “Vi, just...let it goes,” Isadora said half-heartedly. “She’s not worth it,”

Violet looked to Isadora and then at Carmelita and back at Sunny, who was still crying. She released Isadora’s hand and stepped closer to Carmelita. “Let me make myself abundantly clear, Spats,” she hissed as she pointed a tired finger at the bully. “If you make either one of my siblings cry ever again, I will make you regret it. I promise you that.  Do you understand me!? And trust me when I say, I keep my promises.”

She waited for Carmelita to slowly nod her head before getting out of the girl’s face. She turned around and put her hand back into Isadora’s as the two older orphaned girls walked back to their lunch table.

As they sat back down, they noticed the boys were successful in getting Sunny to go back to sleep. “So what are we going to do about Genghis?” Duncan asked.

“I can’t do this again. Not a third night,” Klaus begged.

“My legs are almost too sore to walk, let alone run,” violet agreed.

“Maybe he’s putting his real plan into action tonight. In any case, we’ll sneak out of the recital again...and keep an eye out for you,” Isadora suggested keeping her hand within Violet’s as Violet leaned against her again.

“In shifts,” Duncan added, nodding in agreement as Klaus leaned his head on Duncan’s shoulder. “Isadora and I will keep using our free time to investigate and research. Maybe we can figure out his plan,”

“Thank you,” Klaus yawned. “We are so very thankful for all your help. If we’re lucky, all of us working together can defeat Olaf once and for all,”

And it is at this time that I feel the need to remind you that Klaus and his sisters were not lucky, they were extremely unlucky. They wanted to be lucky, but they were not. The three siblings did not want to be extremely lucky...they just wanted to be lucky enough. They wanted to be lucky enough to figure out how to escape Coach Genghis’ clutches, and it seemed that being lucky would be their only chance. Violet was too tired to invent anything, Klaus was too tired to read anything and Sunny, even though she was lucky enough to be small enough to fit in the comfort of someone else’s lap, was too tired to bite anything or anybody. It seemed that even with the diligence of the Quagmire triplets, they needed to be lucky if they wanted to stay alive. And as Violet huddled against Isadora and Klaus and Sunny huddled against Duncan as if the cafeteria of Prufrock Prep was extremely cold, wincing in soreness and worry. It seemed to the three orphaned siblings that they wanted to be lucky more than they had in their entire lives.

Occasionally, events in one’s life become clearer through the prism of experience, a phrase that means that things do tend to become clearer as time goes on. Coach Genghis’ dreadful S.O.R.E program, however, was one event that didn’t seem to get any clearer at all through Violet, Klaus, and Sunny’s prism of experience.  If anything, it grew even harder and harder to understand, because Violet, Klaus, and Sunny had become so utterly exhausted as the days and the nights wore on. After the children had received their third message from Carmelita, they spent the rest of the day in anticipation wondering whether or not that night would have been the night Olaf put his true plan to action. Even the Quagmires wondered what Genghis had planned that evening, so everyone was surprised when all Genghis had done was order the children to run laps. All five orphans imagined that he would have something far more sinister planned than more laps. But while the third evening of running laps might have lacked in sinisterity, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny were too exhausted to notice. They could scarcely hear the shrieks of Genghis’ whistle and his cries of “Keep running!” and “Another lap!” as they tried to focus on getting to know each other. The children realized after the second night that when they spoke to each other, it made time feel as if it was flying by them faster, so even though the three of them were so exhausted, they tried to continue their conversation. With each passing night, their conversation was slower and less enthusiastic but during the hours of S.O.R.E, Violet was able to tell Klaus and Sunny a lot about her life growing up with her father. Sharing fun stories about him, discussing her likes and dislikes. On the fifth night of S.O.R.E, Klaus had asked Violet what she was up to when her father was investigating them, with a little tweaking of her story, she managed to tell a summarized version of events. She left out details about VFD, considering them unimportant at the time. She did discuss how she had met the Quagmires before Prufrock and even boasted about how obvious it was that both Isadora and her brother, Quigley seemed to have developed a crush on her the day they met. During these brief, slow, but impactful conversations, Violet had learned that Klaus had read more books than she could ever imagine. He explained to her that his memory when he was able to get sleep, was near photographic. He even info dumped, even if it was slowly, about a few of his favorite books to her. On the sixth night of S.O.R.E, Klaus was asked by Violet to describe the house that they had lived in and he did. He had to keep closing his eyes to picture it as if it were a memory that was being consumed by smoke of a fire. He told both his sisters stories of his youth as an ‘only’ child, making sure to not distinctly mention that he was an only child until he was eleven to spare Violet’s feelings. Sunny, with the delayed help of Klaus, spent the eighth night of S.O.R.E trying to help Violet understand Sunny better. Sunny also told stories about her parents that she could remember and even told Violet about Klaus’ bedtime routine of reading to her until she fell asleep. She even boasted about how Klaus was teaching her to read and talk before the fire, which was one reason why she was able to say actual words at such a young age. She, with Klaus’ help, explained how their mother and father would be so happy when Sunny learned a new word. Sunny, finally remembering that she had learned a new word during their stay at Paltryville explained to both her siblings how she learned the word ‘fire’ by herself. Although both her siblings were beyond tired, they were also beyond proud.

The children spent as much time as they could during S.O.R.E getting to know each other, trying their best to stay awake and keep running. Every morning when S.O.R.E was over, Violet and Klaus would take turns taking small half-hour naps before class. They had both fallen asleep on the fourth morning of S.O.R.E and decided to ultimately ditch lunch because they both refused to have their hands tied behind their backs. The Quagmires were nice enough to sneak them some food as they hid in the Orphan Shack during all meals. When the Quagmires had arrived with food and the fifth message from Carmelita Spats who said her message was from Genghis, the children felt like they were going to lose their minds, though. After the tenth night, Violet and Klaus couldn’t take it anymore and they longed for the weekend. They wished that Prufrock believed in weekends because both were too tired to take or pick up Sunny from work, so that job was now on the Quagmires, who didn’t mind at all. Every morning, one of the Quagmires would knock on the door of the Orphan Shack, where Sunny would crawl out, desperate to keep sleeping. The triplet would then carry her to work as the other arrived ten minutes later to make sure Violet and Klaus were awake in time to get to class and then whoever took Sunny to work that day would also pick her up from work where they would find Sunny trying to spare herself five minutes of sleep on the ground in front of the administrative office.

But every day went the same. Coach Genghis would allow them to report back to the Orphan Shack only allowing them a little under an hour to rest before school would begin. Either Isadora or Duncan would take Sunny to work, while the other would arrive a few minutes later to help the older two orphans to class. The Quagmires would also grab their friends' lunch. It got so bad that Violet no longer wanted to carry her backpack so Isadora had offered to carry it for her. Klaus’ notes became so unorganized and messy that Duncan had offered him his satchel to share, which Klaus accepted the offer. Carmelita would then deliver another message during lunch, and it got to the point where the children stopped trying to figure out Olaf’s plan because they knew, by now, what he had in store for them the following nights. More laps. Carmelita would then demand another tip and a rather tired Violet, would continue to summarize children’s books as tips and when she couldn’t think of one, Duncan would help her out. The first few days after Violet had scared Carmelita went by easier than the ones that followed. As Carmelita noticed that Violet could barely stand up and keep her eyes open, she went back to hounding all five orphans, no longer afraid of Violet. Then after dinner, when night fell, the three children would walk miserably to Genghis in the athletic field (as the Quagmires would sneak out of Nero’s recitals to make sure, yet again, that all Olaf was doing was making their friends run laps).

By the thirteenth night, Klaus couldn’t take it anymore. He craved sleep. His body had given in and he fell to the ground desperate to sleep. This angered Genghis, who threatened to kick Klaus if he didn’t get up. Violet warned him that since he is their teacher, he couldn’t physically harm any of them as she tried her best to pick her brother up. Genghis had rolled his eyes and blew his whistle directly in Klaus’ ears to wake him up.

All three children grew so sweaty that they had nearly decided to give up all of their inheritance in exchange for a long shower, two days worth of uninterrupted sleep, and to never see Olaf again. And their legs grew so sore that the children forgot what it felt like to have legs that didn’t act from thigh to toe.

Lap after lap, night after night the children ran as Olaf sat his lazy ass on the bleachers, laughing and blowing his obnoxious whistle. It got to the point where the three children stopped all communication with each other during S.O.R.E hours, desperately trying to keep their eyes on the luminous paint that still glowed brightly on the darkened lawn. All three desperate to preserve whatever energy they had left. As each silent evening went on, the luminous circle was all they could really see, and it imprinted itself into their eyes so they could see it even when they were staring desperately at the darkness.  If you’ve ever had a flash photograph taken, and the blob of the flash has stayed in your view for a few moments afterward, then you know exactly what I am talking about. But the glowing circle that stayed in the minds of Violet and her siblings stayed so long that it became...symbolic, in a way. To the children, it felt like the glowing circle stood for more than merely a track and what it stood for was zero. The luminous zero glowed in their minds, and it was symbolic of their situation. They knew zero about what Genghis was truly up to. They knew zero about why they were running endless laps every night. And they had zero energy to think about it.

Each night for what seemed like an eternity, Coach Genghis would dismiss his orphan track team and I shudder to tell you that...each morning, when Violet, Klaus, and Sunny desperately hoped for it to be their last groggy day...that it was not their last groggy day. The dreadful Carmelita continued to deliver them messages from the dastardly coach. The children would spend their mornings dozing off in their classes and at their job. And with each message, the three siblings would put their heads on the lunch table and whine and groan in utter defeat. The Quagmires would try to comfort them but to no avail. The five orphans hadn’t had a true conversation in a while, because the three orphans were too tired to talk even to their closest friends. The Quagmires understood completely and did not find their silence rude or discouraging.

I know it seems impossible to believe that the three orphans managed to survive all these nights of S.O.R.E but you’d be surprised, in times of extreme stress one can often find energy hidden in even the most exhausted areas of your body. I had discovered this myself one night when I realized I had to escape the clutches of cult-like organization and I was chased nearly sixteen miles by a few unhappy volunteers who refused to allow me to defect from their organization. And the three children discovered this as they ran laps each night for those thirteen nights.

As Violet and Klaus suffered, their schoolwork suffered and as Sunny suffered, her performance at work suffered as well. As I’m sure you know, a good night’s sleep helps you perform well in school or work, and so if you are a student or employee you should always get a good night’s sleep unless you have come to the best part of your book, of course, and then you should stay up all night and let your responsibilities at school or work fall by the wayside. In the nearly two weeks that followed, the three siblings were much more exhausted than somebody who stayed up all night reading, Klaus Baudelaire could tell you that himself, seeing as he has done both. But their performance at work and school fell way off the wayside.

For Violet, it meant that she was so drowsy that she did not write a single word of Mr. Remora’s stories:

Violet sat in her seat, her head thrown back. Soft snores could be heard. Isadora tried and tried to wake her up but Violet’s eyes refused to open.

“Pop quiz!” Remora shouted. “Everybody grab a piece of paper and write down everything you can remember about the time I spilled soup on my sweater, including the vegetables in the soup, the washing instructions on the sweater, and the number of geese on the farm where my in-laws opened their bed and breakfast,”

Isadora looked worriedly at Violet, who continued to sleep. Not hearing Remora at all. Not realizing that she was sleeping through yet another test.

For Klaus, it meant that he was so weary that he didn’t measure a single one of Mrs. Bass’ objects even when Duncan placed the ruler on his desk.

Duncan resorted to poking Klaus with the ruler in hopes of waking him up, but Klaus had his head thrown back, his mouth a tad open as he drooled. Carmelita was taking the opportunity to stick some sticky notes on him as he slept. Duncan glared at her as he pulled the sticky notes off of Klaus. I, of course, don’t know what kind of dreams Klaus Baudelaire was having during his naps in Mrs. Bass’ class but I believe it is safe to bet that if he wasn’t bothered by Duncan trying to purposely wake him and Carmelita sticking sticky notes on him, it didn’t matter what kind of dream was plaguing him, he was not waking up.

“Pop quiz!” Mrs. Bass shouted. “Question one. What is the circumference of yesterday’s pomegranate? Question two. What are the dimensions of the vault at Mulctuary Money Management?” Question three. How far apart in decimeters are the security cameras? I need you to really pay attention to these numbers, and give me exactly what I’m asking for.”

Duncan frowned as Klaus only shifted a bit in his sleep. Blissfully unaware of the pop quiz that Mrs. Bass was giving the class.

For Sunny, it meant that she was so exhausted that she didn’t do anything Vice Principal Nero had assigned for her to do. He wanted her to type out more of his insane ramblings, create her own staples, and put a large stack of files away. But Sunny had sat down at her tiny typewriter, and fell asleep instantly on the keyboard, her head pressing down on the keys.

So as Nero dictated, “‘Dear Mr. Mozart, I have now written you six times and I can not think of a possible reason why you've not replied. Perhaps you’re afraid of a little competition?” Nero mused, unaware that his young, overly exhausted toddler secretary was softly snoring and slightly moving her mouth as if she were biting something in her sleep. “If I’m not mistaken,” he continued. “You’re written only forty-one symphonies...I’ve written over four thousand. I’m writing one right now, it’s titled, ‘Why Won’t You Write Me Back?’”

Sunny continued snoring, unaware that her head was still pressing down on the keys of the typewriter. Unaware of all the tasks that Nero had assigned for her in the twelve days prior.

The children believed that doing well in school was extremely important, even if they had been homeschooled by their parents and even if their new school happened to be run by a tyrannical idiot, but they were simply too fatigued from their nightly laps to give a shit about their classes and job. Before long, the circle of luminous paint was not the only zero the three saw. Violet saw a zero at the top of her paper when she was unable to recall any of Mr. Remora’s stories for a test. Klaus saw a zero in Mrs. Bass’ grade book when he was called on to report the exact length of a tube sock he was supposed to be measuring and was discovered to be taking a nap instead. And Sunny saw a zero when she checked the staple drawer and saw that there were zero staples inside, remembering that instead of making her own staples, she had ignored Nero and snuck away to take a nap where he couldn’t find her.

“You seem to be on your last leg,” Duncan commented.

“I haven’t been this exhausted since I stayed up all night with my first Tesla coil,” Violet whined as she placed her head on the lunch table. She gripped Isadora’s hand tightly.

“At least you guys haven’t been late to class, well besides that one time,” Isadora pointed out.

“I’ve  never flunked a test before, but I got every measurement wrong…” Klaus said miserably.

“Of course you flunked,” Duncan said softly putting an arm around Klaus’ shoulders. “Olaf has been making you run laps every night,”

“And we’re no closer to figuring out his scheme,” Klaus whined.

“It’s like that luminous circle he made us paint is a giant fucking zero,” Violet complained. “And we still know nothing about it,”

“Maybe he is hoping you’ll be so sick of running, you will hand over your inheritances?” Duncan guessed.

“He’s had stranger plans,” Klaus muttered.

“Honestly, I’m starting to think that may be his plan, too,” Violet admitted. “It’s been what...two weeks?...he hasn’t tried to kidnap us, yet,”

Sunny lifted her head. “Staples,” she said softly, which meant, “Oh, I forgot...I need to make staples in my free time…”

“This is getting fucking ridiculous,” Isadora replied. “Look at you, Sunny. It was inappropriate to hire you as an administrative assistant in the first place, and it’s simply absurd that Coach Fuckface is having your run laps by night and now Nero wants you to make your own staples by day?”

“Don’t call my sister absurd or ridiculous!” Klaus snapped.

“Our…” Violet corrected in weak protest. She didn’t have the energy to care about Klaus’ common mistake.

Isadora looked back at Klaus crossly. “I”m not calling her ridiculous!” she snapped back. “I’m calling the situation ridiculous!”

“‘Ridiculous’ means you want to laugh at it,” Klaus explained, who was apparently never too tired to correctly define words. “I don't know about you but I don’t see the humor in this fucking situation! I don’t need nor do I want you laughing at us!”

“I”m not laughing at you,” Isadora countered. “I’m trying to help.”

“Some help you are!” Klaus snapped. “Some help all of you are!”

“Klaus…” Duncan began.

“Your sister laughing at us doesn’t help at all!” Klaus yelled at Duncan.

“Yelling at my brother isn’t helping at all either, asshole!” Isadora yelled at Klaus.

“Calling me names doesn’t help either, bitch!” Klaus snapped back.

“Okay! Okay!” Violet snapped. “Both of you stop! I am too fucking tired to deal with your guys’ fucking bullshit!”

“Shut up!” Sunny snapped, lifting her head from Violet’s lap to growl at Violet and the other’s who were keeping her awake.

“Everyone…” Duncan said calmly. “Stop yelling. Isadora, can’t you see that Klaus is just...really tired? And Klaus, can’t you see that Isadora is just frustrated?”

Klaus and Isadora glared at each other before they both looked back at Duncan. Klaus gave Duncan a small smile. “I’m too tired to see anything, honestly,” he said before turning to Isadora. “Isa, I’m sorry. Being tired makes me crabby. In a few more days I may turn as nasty as Carmelita,”

Isadora gave a small chuckle. “I’m sorry, too. I get nasty when I’m angry sometimes,” Isadora claimed. “You’ll never be as nasty as Carmelita Spats, no matter what.”

“Where?!” Violet asked, lifting her head from her tray. She had dozed off through Klaus and Isadora’s apologies but woken up at the sound of the Special Messenger's name. “Please...tell me she isn’t coming here again to tell us to do more laps, is she?”

“I’m afraid she is,” Duncan said ruefully.

“Speak of the Devil,” Isadora commented.

“Oh, fuck no….not another night. I can’t do fourteen nights,” Violet whined.

“I think I’m going to cry,” Klaus whined.

“Hide?” Sunny suggested as she lifted her head.

“Sunny’s right,” Klaus said frantically.

“Where would we hide?” Duncan asked watching Carmelita begin to smirk as she got closer to their table.

“The one place she’d never go,” Isadora suggested.

“The library,” Klaus replied. But it was too late.

“Cake-sniffers talking about a library,” she teased. “Is there anything less adorable?”

Violet sighed angrily. “Go away Carmelita,”

“We’re not in the mood,” Klaus warned.

“But I’m here to deliver two messages today. Meaning you owe me two tips,” she said.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Klaus said annoyed. “You haven’t gotten a tip for the last thirteen days, and I see no reason to break that tradition,”

“That’s because you’re a stupid orphan,” she replied back. “In any case, message number one is the usual: meet Coach Genghis at the athletic field after dinner,”

Violet gave an exhausted groan. “And the second message?” she asked.

Without prompting or warning, Carmelita began to sing her response. “Vice Principal Nero wants to see you right away because he’s very mad at you today. I’m the cutest girl in school and my name is Carmelita!”

“Still doesn’t rhyme,” Isadora remarked.

“Cake-sniffers are all jealous of me! Because I’m C-U-T-T-E. Dancing and singing is my thing and my name is Carmelita!” she sang angrily.

“None of this rhymes! Songs have to rhyme,” Isadora explained.

“There’s twelve more verses,” Carmelita informed.

Klaus threw down his fork in pure anger. “ We get the fucking message! ” he barked at Carmelita. Carmelita stuck her tongue out at Klaus.

“Wait?” Violet asked. “Why is he mad at us?”

“I’m sorry,” Carmelita replied with a nasty smile to indicate that she was definitely not sorry. “I don’t answer questions from nontipping orphan cake-sniffers.” With that, she began to chant “Cake-sniffing orphans in the orphan shack!” and neighboring tables chanted along with her.

“We’d better go to Nero’s,” Violet replied sighing as she slowly got to her aching feet, volunteering to carry Sunny. “We’ll see you later,” she said to the Quagmires.

“Nonsense,” Isadora said standing up, taking Sunny from Violet. “We’ll walk with you. Carmelita made me lose my appetite, anyway. We’ll walk you to the administrative building, and wait outside for you so we can still have two pairs of silverware for dinner.”

I wonder what Nero wants,” Klaus muttered as Duncan helped him to his feet.

“Maybe...he’s discovered that Genghis is really Olaf...all by himself?” Isadora suggested. Klaus and Sunny silently looked at one another, highly doubting this but both of them still offered their friend a kind smile. They appreciated their friend’s hopefulness. The five children handed their scarcely eaten lunches the cafeteria works, who blinked at them silently from behind their metal masks. Once they reached the administrative building, Duncan and Isadora wish their friends luck as Violet, Klaus, and Sunny trudged up the steps to Nero’s office.

[camkablam]

Day One - Modern AU

So I’m arriving, like, nine days late? Hadn’t really planned on doing this because I doubt I’ll actually be able to stick to it, so... guess I’m doing it at my own pace? Eh, ah well. Would really like to stretch my writing muscles, I guess. Enjoy.

Hiding a pig in a foster home, as Jesse was rather quick to find out, was really, really hard.

Of course, this didn’t stop them. Reuben had been with them since before the accident, and they were damn well going to keep it that way afterwards. Even if they had to stuff him into a backpack and sneak him carrots to keep him quiet from where they were seated in the back of a particularly chatty social workers’ car.

“Oh, you’ll be very happy in this home, Jesse,” they’d assured them for the fourth time, “You’ll be going to a nice school in a wonderful neighbourhood. Your new foster mother is very excited to meet you.”

She hadn’t been excited, exactly; not that Jesse could really blame her. When the social worker had led them inside (and he’d hastily covered Reuben’s snuffling with a cough), she’d had her arms full with young children. She’d only had enough time to greet him with a smile and direct him to his room upstairs before she was pulled away to deal with a screaming toddler.

The social worker didn’t leave until they’d found their room. They wished them good luck, and then Jesse was left sitting alone on their new bed, at a complete loss as to what to do with themselves. There was a second bed across from them, the blankets rumpled and unkempt; obviously slept in. That meant they had a roommate.

Jesse seriously hoped they liked pigs. And could keep a secret. And weren’t a jerk.

They really hoped they weren’t a jerk.

Their backpack jerked, falling over next to them. Reuben tumbled out in a heap of pink, nose twitching as he took in his new surroundings. Jesse smiled at him, but it came off weak; they weren’t sure if they could hide him. It all depended on their roommate, when it came down to it (immediately, at least), and that terrified them a lot more than they’d like to admit.

This all terrified them.

The door opened. Jesse leapt to their feet, heart lodging itself into their throat, blocking Reuben from sight. The girl’s eyes were glued to her phone- she seemed to be in the middle of a game- but paused in the doorway when she realised the room wasn’t empty.

Her phone sang a remorseful tune, signifying her digital death. Jesse stared, shocked. Because they knew this girl. Because this was the girl who was constantly challenging them to a race. Because this was the girl who hung out with them even though they were sure she could find someone better.

In their new foster home. In their new bedroom.

Most probably their new roommate.

“Petra?” Jesse said, finally. Petra blinked at them slowly, game completely forgotten.

“Jesse?” she frowned, “What are you doing here?”

They opened their mouth, but an answer didn’t come. Thankfully, Petra seemed to realise that the question wasn’t a particularly smart one, for she winced and slipped her phone into her one of the pockets stitched into her shorts.

“Sorry. Dumb questions.”

“It’s fine,” Jesse murmured automatically. This was Petra, after all. Simply talking to losers like them and their friends was an amazement that still had them gaping at her.

Reuben sneezed. Loudly.

The two not-quite-friends stared at each other. Petra raised an eyebrow. Jesse’s cheeks dusted pink. Hesitantly (because maybe Petra was fine with them having a pig, but if this was her room than there was a likely chance she wouldn’t be all that happy about it, and dammit Jesse had no idea where they were meant to keep him if not here), Jesse stepped aside, their little pig cocking his head as he finally registered Petra’s presence.

The redhead stared a moment longer. She glanced over her shoulder, out into the hall, as though to make sure no one was there. Then she slid further into the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

“Jenny doesn’t like pets,” she informed them, as though they weren’t already aware of this, “Hope you can keep him quiet.”

“He’ll be quiet,” Jesse hastily assured, slumping in relief when she didn’t go running to their foster mother (their as in both of their foster mother; that was a strange thought).

An awkward silence came upon them. Petra frowned at the far wall, as though there was something particularly worrying about it. Jesse nervously shuffled their feet, before deciding sitting back down on the bed was the best idea. Reuben was in the current process of inspecting their pillow.

Finally, Petra seemed to snap out of whatever state she’d fallen into, tearing her eyes from the wall. She glanced at them, before making her way over to her own bed, shoving the sheets aside to collapse on top of it. She glanced at Jesse again.

“So,” she said, slowly, “Guess we’re roommates.”

Jesse shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant; it came off as nervous and awkward instead, “Looks like it. Does… Does that… bother you?”

Petra snorted, lips twitching, “Of course it doesn’t, Jesse. I’d rather have you than some stranger, anyway,” her eyes darted over to Reuben; he’d decided the pillow was now his and had curled up on top of it, “Besides, he’s bound to make things a bit more interesting around here.”

They shot her a smile; the first honestly genuine one they’d been able to muster in a long time, “Thanks, Petra.”

“Anytime, Jesse.”

They glanced away, fiddling nervously with their sleeve. The terror that had come with them smuggling in Reuben had been stifled, at least; having Petra as a roommate had not been something they’d been expecting, but it was most certainly welcome. A familiar face in a strange place and all that. Someone they could rely on. It was comforting.

“Does… this mean I’ll still be going to school with Axel and Olivia?”

Petra paused. She raised her eyebrows. “They tell you otherwise?”

“Social worker mentioned a nice school.”

“Huh,” she seemed to think for a moment; shrugged, “Well, I go there, so I don’t really see any reason as to why you wouldn’t, especially if you’re already enrolled,” her face softened, “We’ve been worried about you. Haven’t heard from you all weekend.”

Jesse winced, “Oh. Uh… my- my phone was broken.”

“Ah,” a brief silence. As though she were debating whether or not she should ask. “How’d it break?”

Screaming, screaming, glass shattering, the device flying from his hand and disappearing in the chaos, his whole word tumbling and tumbling and tumbling-

“Accident.”

“Oh.”

The awkward silence returned with a vengeance. Jesse shifted on the bed, then swallowed, taking a few moments to work up the courage to break it.

“You… You won’t tell anyone about Reuben, will you?”

Petra turned to look at them again; shot them a reassuring smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “Of course not. It’s Reuben.”

Jesse’s cheeks flushed slightly, a guilty pang hitting their chest for doubting her. This was Petra, dammit. They could trust Petra.

Suddenly, the girl snorted.

“To be honest,” she said, “If you are, for some reason, going to a different school, I think we’d all drag you back to our one. I mean, do you realise how lost Radar would be? He’d have no one to follow around like a love-struck puppy.”

Jesse snorted as well, “Yeah, he’s… eccentric.”

“In a good way.”

Jesse’s lips twitched upwards, “In a good way.”

“Then there’s Romeo,” Petra continued, ignoring their wince at the mention of him, “Guy gives me the creeps, but he wouldn’t let you go to a different school than him, that’s for sure. He’s hellbent on either being your bestie or your mortal enemy.”

“So, what do you think he’d do?” Jesse asked, a tad hesitantly (a part of him didn’t really want to know), “Drag me back to the old one or force himself into the student body of the new one?”

Petra chuckled, “Both are equally terrifying.”

“I’ll say.”

“And I don’t think Cassie would be able to go a day without glaring at you from across the room,” the redhead declared, “She’s planning your murder, I swear.”

“Can we please not talk about Cassie?”

Petra’s grin widened, “Why? She scare you?”

“Incredibly.”

The redhead laughed; Jesse wasn’t sure whether or not they should be insulted, “Okay, fair enough. She is pretty creepy. What about Lukas, Axel and Olivia?”

Jesse hummed, “They’d still visit me outside of school. Or kidnap me. Whichever comes first. Lukas would protest, but he’d go through with it anyway.”

Petra chuckled, “Think Jack and Nurm would help?”

“Maybe?”

“Oh, please. Pretty sure Jack’s proclaimed himself as your big brother.”

Jesse blinked, cheeks colouring, “I don’t- He wouldn’t-”

“Yeah,” Petra chuckled, obviously taking pleasure in their embarrassment (curse her), “He’d probably be the one to suggest kidnapping. Hey, do you think Ivor’s gonna adopt you?”

Jesse gaped, brain spinning at the sudden change of topic. Their cheeks reddened further. “Why- I- I don’t think he’d-”

“Probably only a matter of time,” Petra shrugged, tucking her arms behind her head as a makeshift pillow; her real one was somewhere in the tangle of blankets, somehow, “We should all just buy a big house and live there together.”

She sounded almost… wistful. Her smile slipped from amused to something a bit more heart-tugging. As though the lot of them just piling together into a big house was something she wished would actually happen. With Ivor and, heck, the rest of the teachers (who were always there, who they’d playfully dubbed the Order of the Stone, who’d declared them the next generation of it) acting as parents, with Axel and Olivia and Lukas and Petra as their siblings, and Jack and Nurm as their big brothers and Radar, running around with that beaming smile and his notebook, their little brother. And maybe Stella would be there, a cousin they didn’t like until they looked just a little deeper, and Cassie would probably be dragged in by Soren because he’d claimed both her and Lukas, and Harper would be there too, wearing that little smile she always wore whenever Ivor was spluttering and stumbling over his words simply due to her presence. And there’d be smiles and laughter and stupid fights they’d forget about the next day and silly problems that would always end alright because, in the end, they would have each other.

Like one big, mismatched family.

Jesse’s chest hurt. They looked away, blinking away the tears that had sprung to their eyes. Petra didn’t seem to notice; she was still lost in that wistful little fantasy.

But that was all it was. A fantasy. A stupid little fantasy that would never come true.

Because nothing ever really went right when it came to Jesse.

They had the accident to prove it.

[shineonmalcolmbright]

Shine On, Bright: Chapter Thirty-Five

Table of Contents

Present

Gil sits in his office needing a moment to himself. He buries his face into his hands, massages his temples, everybody so loud out there with every reason to be loud. Bright’s gone. Bright’s been taken. Bright might not come back. And so many thoughts are bubbling up in his brain, waves getting ready to pull back into a tidal wave of pain.

That kid’s insane, man. Twelve hours? He’s dead, he’s gotta be dead. Why’d he do it? Could’ve been home but the weird kid got his ass kidnapped. He’s probably dead. We should get to go home. Hope he’s alive.

Somehow Gil even catches a memory floating through the air, it’s quieter than the roaring thoughts of everybody else. It’s Dani. She’s sitting at her desk staring at a lollipop in her pencil holder jumping between the past and the present. A past where Bright strutted onto the scene, all smiles and handing out lollipops to everybody. Not it sits there, nothing but a memory.

Gil looks at his watch and gets up to leave. He can’t shut the voices out. It’s been a long, long time since it’s been this bad. Why couldn’t any of them be Malcolm? Some hint to where he is.

Outside in the chaos, Colette takes the floor yelling out information, “Listen up it’s been twelve hours since Detective Owen Shannon was murdered and NYPD consultant Malcolm Bright was kidnapped. Our prime suspect is one John Watkins, A.K.A. Paul Lazar, known to the public as The Junkyard Killer. Now we know that Watkins’ MO is to keep his victims alive for a time, but he also just changed all that with his last three murders so assume nothing.”

Colette pauses spotting Gil standing there keeping an eye on her. She repeats, Assume nothing.

Gil just nods in response.

“Time is of the essence.” Colette starts walking away as a people’s rapid thoughts start speeding up. They’re all on a hush hush but loud enough for a mind-numbing headache. “Powell, I need you and your partner.”

JT watches Collete getting ready to speak. His thoughts are moving so fast. They’re flashes of words.

kid

weird as fuck

required taste

can’t let him die

JT tries to work on words to say out loud.

do something

we need to do more

“I want you to look through evidence photos, logging, flagging anything,” Colette starts talking right away, cutting JT off before he can even start. “Anything that requires follow up.”

fuck no

what?

“Unis can handle that,” retorts JT. “Brights our guy. We can’t just sit around. . .”

might be required taste. . .

but he’s still our guy

“In the FBI evidence isn’t rookie work, Officer Tarmel.”

“My rank’s detective, special agent,” JT cuts in crossing his arms.

But Dani pipes up even with falling in and out of the present. Back in time to Malcolm strutting up to the crime scene and handing out some lollipops. “We’re. . .on it.” She looks right at Colette. “However we can help.”

what?

no fuck.

why is she saying that?

Colette nods and says, “Good.” She shoots a look at JT, taking in his posture and the way he’s clenching his jaw, and walks away.

The words start spilling out as JT looks over to Dani. There’s no fury to them just confusion laced with each letter. “Why-Why are you. . .”

“Working with the FBI is gonna be a lot easier than against,” Dani cuts right to the chase.

JT somewhat smiles. good point, good point They slip away to do their work.

Gil’s moving, he needs to catch up with Colette who is doing her best to make rounds around the precinct. She’s marching around looking in charge. Gil doesn’t. There’s a little too much panic in him. He slips past a few people matching Colette’s pace.

“We need to talk,” Gil says right away.

Colette shakes her head. Then she makes a double point, making sure Gil understands. We don’t need to talk. “What I need is to interrogate Matilda Watkins, the last one who saw Shannon and Bright alive.”

Why would she say it like that?

Colette reminds, Make no assumptions.

Yet she is.

“Bright is still alive!” Gil plants his feet refusing to move along. At least, he gets Colette to stop and focus on just him for a split second. It was more than enough time. “And Jessica Whitly deserve to know her son is missing?”

Colette scowls at him. Even though she appears to be connected to the shining, she says the following words out loud. Words for anybody to grab onto as any bit of evidence. “Why, so she can give an exclusive to TMZ?”

“She’s his mother!” Gil protests.

“She was also married to The Surgeon.”

“What does that mean?”

Colette is close to rolling her eyes. It’s clear. How could it not be any clearer? “It means, I don’t trust Jessica Whitly, and neither should you. Unless you know where she got that photo from.”

Gil shakes his head coming at an impasse. “I’m focused on finding Malcolm Bright.”

Colette nods. “Then let’s do it.” She turns away from him ready to follow through with what she said. Interrogate Matilda Watkins. This leaves Gil to do what? Watch the interrogation? Help with the interrogation? The shining can be legally held up in court. Go and tell Jessica Whitly? She still really has no idea. Colette looks over her shoulder at Gil. Coming?

And so he follows.

###

Matilda Watkins is a blank slate. It’s as if not a single thought rumbles through her mind or she’s good at keeping them locked up. She’s clearly thinking about something. Annoyance riddles her words. She keeps demanding, “Where’s my soda pop? I only get one have one soda a day.”

“We have a few questions to ask,” Colette attempts to start a ‘conversation.’

Matilda shakes her head. “Where’s my soda pop?”

“And you’ll get it, but we need your help.” Colette sits down, she’s eye level with Matilda now. Gil stays back in a corner of the room witnessing the scene. He tries to pry into Matilda’s thoughts but his brain is already too tired from all the noise, noise, noise outside. “Where would John take Malcolm Bright besides the junkyard?”

But Matilda abandons her soda pop complaint and instead starts to hum some old hymnal of a tune. She’s tapping the table, tracing the notes out as she keeps on humming leaving Colette and Gil there to watch her. Stare at her. Observe her. Try to understand her. Matilda’s humming grows louder in their silence.

Except Gil moves from the shadowy corner watching Matilda continue her humming. “I remember that one,” he admits, “from church.”

Matilda snorts but gets lost in some laughter making the room somehow feel a lot darker.

Her humming changes to some whisper singing, “Sinners punished beneath that flood, Lose all, Their guilty stains, “

Enough.

Gil slams his hand down into the metal table causing such a racket, hearts skip a beat. Not Matilda though. Though she stops she looks up in his direction. Gil’s talking again. They need answers. They needed answers hours ago. It’s already getting too late. “Ms. Watkins. . .this is your last chance. Where is your grandson?”

Matilda ignores the edge in his voice, a growing anger. Not that he’d lash out at her or anybody else. But Bright is out there. He’s alive somewhere out there even though it’s been some time since he last heard his voice. Matilda hums and whispers her church hymn.

“A fountain filled with blood, Drawn from. . .” She was at such a whisper but her voice grew louder as she spat out a change in words “. . .Policemen’s veins. . .”

Colette scoffs as she stands up. “Get-Get her out of here.”

Matilda leans into the table still singing to her same tune, “Your little friend, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s where the party never ended, he’s nothing but a stain.”

Gil and Colette are stuck watching Matilda taunt them and resist her exit. As soon as the door slams shut, Colette looks over at Gil. “I’m sorry, Arroyo. She was never gonna give us anything useful.”

But still.

There was something about what she said though, some old fact Gil couldn’t quite pinpoint. He’s dead, he’s where the party never ended. It obviously didn’t belong to the rest of the words. Nothing about it matched.

“I may know somebody who can help,” Gil admits though he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t even need to form actual words around the idea. Colette already knows, she gets it, doesn’t take somehow inclined to the shining to make a good guess at the somebody referenced.

“But I’m gonna need a favor from you.”

Even with knowing, it’s always just half the battle, Colette stares at Gil wanting to shake her head and write off the idea, but she can’t. He’s got a point. A pretty good point. Gil does know somebody who can help. . .

[yourfavouriteadventurer]

My Facebook Rant on Mollie Tibbets'

I posted this rant on Wednesday night, which was the day that Mollie Tibbets was found. I figured some of my readers would find it interesting. Also, this is why I haven't added another chapter of "How to Stage a Murder". If you continue reading on, you will most certainly understand why.

I have followed the Mollie Tibbets case since it started, and was getting pretty deep into theories and assumptions as to where she could be, mainly because that is how I feel that I can be helpful while utilising my knowledge. However, with Mollie's turnup early this morning, I feel as though I need to unleash my feelings as to what this means and what we can expect for this future trial for Mollie's murderer, Cristhian Rivera.

Please note that my two career choices were private investigator and English professor. I chose the latter, due to wanting a family that didn't have to be hidden from my work life due to any potential threats or dangerous situations, such as an angry client performing a violent act unto my family due to their service not going their way. With that being said, naturally, I am still drawn to real life mysteries and attempting to solve them and create theories on my own. It keeps my gears going and it makes me feel helpful, even if the case is decades or possibly centuries old. Obviously, every case must be treated delicately, due to its severity. My first case sophomore year was about a young boy that was either in middle school or high school, who shared a pair of gym shoes with another, and they had a secret spot for them: tucked inside a wrestling mat. The boy was shoved inside of the wrestling mat and died of suffocation. LOTS of people speculated that this was an act of racial bias murder (and we'll come back to this debate later in this rant); however, the police verdict was it wasn't murder at all. The boy crushed himself inside when he went to go get his shoes and died there, but the way I rolled across this case was on a YouTube video about strange murders. They only considered that the security footage was cut, but not the autopsy report. (I can't quote the case at hand, but I did speak with a cop from the town when I was performing this research on this "murder". I don't remember what it was called, and my apologies with that; however, it's been three years since I worked on that case. I wasn't as sensitive to general death then as I am now, and all I cared about were the actual murders, truth be told.)

On with Mollie Tibbets, shall we?

First, WHY did Donald Trump have to add a SHIT ton of fuel to that god-damned immigration law fire NOW?!?! A courtesy from you, Mr. President, is NO PROPER PLACE for you to flex your political agenda!! It is a chance for you to connect with the family, one on one, and to not make yourself seem like an impeccable asshole. Instead, you failed, ONCE AGAIN, and made yourself look like one hell of a creep in the process. Sorry you all have to see me get more than a bit "ugly frustrated", but I am not sorry to Donald J. Trump. Yes, you are the President of the United States. Act like it. Stop being a child and knock it off with the tweets. Moving on.

Obviously, as mentioned previously, there is a more than obvious issue on illegal immigrants. The common thought of race being an issue was seen in my first case, and it certainly won't be the last. It is not good that Cristhian Rivera is an illegal immigrant. It will make this trial a living nightmare for him. In my opinion though: the worse we can make it for him, the better for the people, like me, who want justice for Mollie Tibbets and her family. However, this WILL NOT STOP politicians using Mollie and her kidnapping-now-murder as leverage for their political agenda, just like Trump (although his was not appropriate at all, since he chose to flex his on the day of her finding. Trump, we could bring this up any other time, but PLEASE, give the family a break. They are grieving over a now actually lost relative. Your opinion on a different subject means NOTHING as of right now! Bug off, you bloody wanker.) Let me confront first though that I am not the monstrous kind of person that thinks EVERY illegal immigrant who has crossed the boarder needs to be shipped back, hence why I am really against Trump's plans for ICE. Also, as the youngest sister to a lawyer who got a woman who crossed the boarder illegally legal status, even though that woman took ALL of the right actions up to the day when she gave her old, fake ID to the DMV clerk when recieving her new one, while staying in the country for the allotted amount of time to become a citizen? Shoutout to Liz Araguás, one of THE REAL MVPs. 🙌🏻

Last of all before addressing what we could possibly expect for the full-lengthed trial and sentence, of course we need to address the most important detail of all: our victim. Mollie never deserved any of this, and yet, here we are, ladies and gentlemen. Sadly, this is the new America. I mean hell, I bought a pink tazer and a can of pepper spray that looks like a big tube of lipstick for my Sam Smith concert last week, and specially arranged my purse so they were the first things I could grab because of this shit, and the twin cities ARE NOT THAT TERRIFYING. I get every city has a ghetto, but Frankie and I were most definitely not in the ghetto. That doesnt change the fact that this new America sucks! My dad used to tell me that he would never move out of Iowa because nothing happens here, and the new America turned us into a sex trafficking hotspot!! It's frickin' awful, and it is so bloody horrifying that it is happening so close to our homes and to people in our communities. I get that shit happens, but nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody deserved that strike of fear and torturous pain that Mollie had to experience first-hand. (Well unless you're on death row yourself. Or a serial killer. Or have shot up a school. Any of those things? Yeah, mazel tov.) To the father of Mollie Tibbets: the killer caved in and brought you back to your daughter. Words can't express how much grief the rest of the world is holding in our hearts for you and your family. I know the simple words "I am sorry" can't cut it right now, because she is gone, but before, you declined our sympathy and wanted our help, but I ask for the rest of the world when I say, "What can we do to help you in your time of need? What can we do to help you now?"

Now folks, let's get into what we can expect from this trial. This is the heart of why I am writing this long-ass post, because this TRULY has me boggled. I made this discovery, per say, when washing up for dinner this evening. Cristhian Rivera already has that illegal immigrant strike against him, yes, and yeah, the world pretty much hates him for murdering an innocent college student and just dumping her body in a cornfield, so he could just face the normal penalties that an illegal immigrant with murder charges could face. BUT there was one important detail on the news I want to point out to all of you reading this post that when I realised what it could do, it really twisted up my stomach: Rivera claimed to have "blacked out" after chasing her while she was jogging, but came back with one of the earpieces in his hand around where her body was ditched. I wanted to highlight this to all of you BECAUSE as somebody who wants justice for Mollie Tibbets unrightful persecution, I am very scared that Rivera's lawyers will plead not guilty by reason of insanity. It is possible that it won't swing their way, but if that does happen, it sure will make this trial A LOT harder to deal with.

In conclusion: Trump is still a seventy-year-old tan thumb that chooses to be like every other American teenager and hide behind their cellphone screens instead of properly communicating with humans face to face, but he will not be the only politician using Mollie Tibbets as their next best talking point, and the outrage in the Republican party is just getting started, even though the family has asked not to politicize it (but really, when do you guys think politicians will actually stop arguing?). Rivera did face the first degree murder charges this morning, but what else is in store for Rivera's future, as well as our country's? Ladies and gentlemen, grab whatever you'll need to stay sitting and attempt to stay calm while the politicians start their fires in their branches of DC, because this is the new America, and we are just getting started.