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silovsmenot · 4 months

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Bloody Nose | Matt Rempe

SUMMARY: During med school, your dad gets you a volunteer role with the New York Rangers to get some hands-on experience. On your first day, Matt Rempe clashes with Mathieu Olivier. WARNINGS: Mentions of blood & bruises. PAIRING: Matt Rempe x f! reader. NOTES: I don't think it's possible to not be feral for this guy. I'm sure this idea will have been done a hundred times before, but I couldn't help it. WORD COUNT: 1,600 FIND PART TWO HERE

It was not a role you were expecting as you were progressing through med school, in fact you never would’ve considered it if your dad didn’t know the general manager of the New York Rangers.

You needed some hands-on experience as part of your course, under supervision but in a real setting — while most of your friends went at found volunteer roles within doctors’ offices and hospitals where possible, you joined the medical team of the Rangers.

Of course, it was university policy that they had to approve the role, and they were quick to. You were not the first to find a role with a sports team, and you wouldn’t be the last. One student on the year above you spent a season with the Mets, which presented a whole different collection of injuries.

You didn't really know much about hockey, it had only been a passing interest as a child with your dad taking you to the odd game here and there ― you were certainly not a hockey fan but you were going to approach this with interest. And with how some of your friends publicly voiced their jealousy, you were becoming somewhat excited about the opportunity.

to expect. General hockey injuries ranged from the simple knocks, cuts and bumps to concussions, and everything in between. There was a lot that could happen, and you hadn't even considered the possibility of brawls yet.

In the early morning, you dressed into the simple uniform that you’d been given; a navy sports kit with the team logo and ‘team medic’ written simply across the back. You certainly looked the part. And with your hair tied back, you left your apartment for the airport. The medical staff travelled late to Columbus, and you’d be among them.

You’d already been introduced to the team medic, whose hand rose in a short wave at the first sight of you weaving through the small crowd. Simply relieved to see a familiar face within the flood of Rangers staff. In just under two hours, you were in Columbus, Ohio with a bubbling excitement.

For the whole ride to the rink, the senior medic talked you through your role. You’d take all of the ‘small’ injuries while he would be there for the more major, and any concussion assessments.

“Just be aware, Rempe likes a good fight — always be prepared to plug a bloody nose.” He sighed, giving your shoulder a friendly tap as he finally broke into a laugh. Excitement turned to a bubbling concern as you slowly nodded.

Players began to file into the arena, none having any idea who you were, but they did not question it. Staff came and went, and your navy Rangers tracksuit was enough to tell them that you were on the team.

There was one who’s eyes lingered a little longer than the others, and you felt your cheeks burning beneath his gaze. He must have been about a foot taller than you, shaggy brown hair and a mischievous grin that put a name to a face without even needing an introduction — this was Rempe.

You took your place at the end of the tunnel with the head medic, from there you’d watch the game, and be ready for any injuries that would come your way. Your heart was pounding as the puck dropped, this was for real and you silently pleaded that this would be a nice, calm game

But less than three minutes in, your eyes snapped up at the sound of the whistle — the gloves and sticks flying in different directions as two players grappled. You made no attempt to hide the rolling of your eyes as you grabbed the nearest towel, watching closely with each punch exchanged for any signs of blood. No blood meant they’d go to the box, you’d been told that much.

As the final punch was thrown, watching as the giant body of the Ranger was wrangled to the ice, none could miss the crimson that poured from his nose.

The head medic giving you the nod as you moved toward the gate ― a bloody nose was something that you could handle with your eyes closed, and he knew that. This was your one to handle.

You watched as the massive body of Rempe was skated to the bench by a referee, his eyes caught upon you once more as his lips curved into a pained grin. The crowd were going wild, stood on their feet as they cheered and screamed. It was your arm that he took as he stepped off the ice, the various hands of Rangers teammates tapping the 21-year-old on the back as you led him down the tunnel.

“Feeling okay?” You shouted over the cheers of the crowd as soon as you'd cleared the bench. You had to cock your head just to meet his eyes, his massive 6’8 body at your side. He almost flinched at the sound of your voice, the first words you’d spoken to him.

He didn't reply, he only nodded as he grinned, a bloody thumb raised for you to see. He was proud of himself and that was written clearly across his bloody face.

“Do me a favour,” You sighed, your hand pushing open the door to the medical room with the familiar pharmaceutical smell. “Warn me next time.”

That was enough to bring a laugh from his bloody lips, a bearish hand rising to wipe the crimson with a large smudge across his pale cheek. The red liquid was already everywhere, he’d need a blood jersey and you’d need a few minutes to clean this mess up.

“No promises, boss.” He teased in a whisper, dropping upon the medical bed with a thud. “What’s your name?”

You’d turned your back to him before he asked, collecting a cup of water and a handful of towels. It was well-timed as you felt that flushing of your cheeks almost instantly at his question.

“y/n, why?”

He sat completely still as you returned with hands full of towels are cotton wool, Matt had done this enough times to know what you’d ask him to do. His hand was already out and ready for the water that you’d give to him to swill out his bloody mouth.

“I’ve just not seen you with the team before … I’m Matt.”

You nodded in a silent ‘i know’, which made him laugh again. The pained grin seemingly stuck upon his lips as he watched you closely, every movement as if it were the first time he was seeing it — like he was seriously interested in the towels and the rolled wool. It was enough to bring that fluttering to your stomach.

He leaned forward onto his legs, bloody hands firmly planted upon his knees as he closed a gap between you. His voice no more than a whisper.

“Did you like my fight?”

You could feel his hot breath upon your skin as you stood, unmoving with a heavy inhale parting your lips. You were ready for blood and for broken bones, but you were not ready for this. Whatever this was.

“Do the girls normally like it?” You finally replied as you steadied yourself, brow rising in your own tease. Two could play that game, and you intended to play if he did.

Though he would not say it, your response drove him wild — that grin deepened as he leaned a little closer, his head cocking to keep your gaze tied with his own.

“They do.”

A slow nod, your hand placing the cup of water on the table beside him, your brow rose.

“How about you ask me when you win next time?”

It was far from the answer that he was expecting, but fuck — he liked the answer. He was resisting every urge to touch you, he sorely wanted to. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the fight, but you were very tempting to him.

You both, almost at the same time, broke into a shared laughter. His massive frame straightening up as he’d collect the cup of water, swilling the clear liquid before it would dribbling from his lips into the cup with a red tint.

“I don’t think you need me to do this for you?” You spoke with towels held toward him. He shook his head, taking them from you with a nod of thanks and began to wipe at the crusting crimson.

Things were quiet for a few moments, white towels turned red as his face became cleaner with each moment. The team’s kit manager would poke his head in with a clean jersey, which you quickly handed across.

You’d help him remove the blood-splattered jersey, catching a glimpse of his bare torso beneath the pads. Eyes were stuck upon the pale skin, which of course, he noticed. He liked that you were looking. Even as you helped him pull on the fresh, white jersey, his lips remained curved in the cheeky grin.

“You should come out for a drink with us after this.” Matt muttered with brows rising and falling, giving you a little nudge as he rose for the table and, once more, towered above you.

He crossed the room first, opening the door and holding it wide for you to exit first. As you walked through, you looked up with lips curved deep. You never expected to be glad of a fight, but you’d almost enjoyed wiping away all that blood.

“Maybe I will.”

#matt rempe #matt rempe x reader #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #feral for this guy #silovsmenot writes

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sunflower-lilac42 · 2 months

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𝟭𝟵𝟲 ; 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 ୨୧

➪ summary: after getting picked 196 in the draft, she thinks she's a failure to her family. her brothers reassure her she's not

➪ warnings: reader thinks she's not good enough, reader is ignored, hate comments

➪ word count: 2.2k

➪ file type: fic - repupload

➪ sunny's notes: i don't remember when i came up with this idea but eh. i remember struggling with the ending so much when i wrote this however long ago and i still am like... i wrote that?

hughes brothers masterlist || nhl masterlist || new taglist || navigation

Pick 196. Pick One hundred and ninety-six. A failure, that’s what she was. How did she fall that far down the draft? It didn’t matter what the real reason was, everyone loved to make up their own reasons. The most popular one being that she was a girl. Apparently, the only redeeming quality about her was her last name and the five other people who shared it with her.

She didn’t even know why they were having this party for her. There was nothing to celebrate. Her mom would argue differently, saying she paved the way for women in the NHL but to y/n? What more did it matter if she was drafted 196?

Standing outside in the backyard, a red solo cup filled with peach tea snapple and a few ice cubes clutched in her hand, y/n watched as everyone interacted with everyone else but her. Aunts and Uncles interacted with her brothers, her mom, and dad caught up with more extended family members, her own friends were off in the corner talking with each other, and her brother’s friends were scattered about all drinking some type of alcohol (except for a few of Luke’s friends).

The only words she had gotten from people tonight were, “Congratulations” and “Sorry you got drafted to the Sharks”

While the Sharks weren’t technically the worst team in the league - there were the Ducks, the Hawks, Columbus -, they sure made the list of bottom-tier teams. It was just another constant reminder that the team that had basically chosen her as a last resort was a crappy one at that, another reminder that she was labeled as not good enough by everyone and their grandma.

She had to get out of there. Everything was starting to become too suffocating. The outcome of the draft, the plethora of news articles, the thousands of trolls wanting to bring her down, the party that was for her but no one seemed to actually be there for her. She maneuvered through the crowd of people, walking into her house.

The moment she stepped into the living, she felt a brief weight of relief wash over her. However, it wasn’t enough, she needed to be alone (with her thoughts). So, she continued her pursuit up the stairs and down the hallway to her own room. Everyone’s doors were closed and hers was as well. She walked in and flopped down on her bed, sighing in contempt.

The room quickly became her safe space for the night. She had a few snacks leftover scattered from when her friends came over earlier in the week, and some unopened water bottles littered about as well. Her bedroom connected to the bathroom so she wouldn’t have to worry about running into someone if she ended up drinking too much water or just had the urge to shower later in the night.

She stared at the picture frame on her nightstand. It was the night of Luke’s draft, everyone was in their jerseys except for her. She was wearing an old white cardigan and a gray shirt underneath it. Her jeans were white as well, a little stain slowly appearing at the top of her knee. She was standing next to Quinn, Luke next to him, and Jack at the other end. She was smiling brightly and in hindsight, she couldn’t figure out if she stood out because of the white she was wearing or the jersey she wasn’t.

She remembered that night, the night she promised herself and silently promised her family members that she would be just like the three brothers. That she would be drafted in the first round, that she could hold up a 6 or a 9 or even a 2, right alongside them in her own jersey. That night she promised her family that she would not let them down, and now here she is two years later doing exactly the opposite of what she wanted to do.

It must’ve been an hour before she heard voices outside her door, one male and one female. The female one was distinctly her mom’s, she knew that before she could even think about it. The other was harder to decipher, there being four males it could’ve been. But the way he talked and the language he used, it was very obvious that the voice had been Quinn’s.

“Mom please, let me talk to her.”

“Quinn, I know how much you want to help… But I think I should handle this one. No offense, honey, but it’s different for her. Not only is she a girl, but she’s your sister, and Jack’s and Luke’s. She’s always going to be compared to you, just like how everyone compares Luke to you and your brother. It’s worse.”

Quinn teared up a little but quickly blinked them away, “Please.”

She sighed, looking between her eldest child and the door to where her youngest was sitting, “Fine. But come get me as soon as she says she wants me.”

He nods and turns to the door himself, knocking softly on it, “Y/n/n?”

“Go away.”

He gave Ellen a look but she only shrugged and walked away, “You asked for it.”

“Come on, bug.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Nugget. Munchkin. Squirt. I’ve got nicknames for days, bug.”

“Come in.”

Quinn pulled on the handle but realized it was locked, “It’s locked.”

“You want to come in, you figure out a way in here.”

He groaned in annoyance, “Please, y/n/n. Just let me in.”

He heard footsteps and then the lock unlocked and he opened the door. She was sitting up on her bed, the frame on her nightstand was now cracked. He frowned before closing the door and making his way over to the bed, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s stupid.”

“If it’s making you upset, bug, it’s not.”

“I feel like a failure.”

“You what?” Quinn’s heart broke at her confession, “Why would you say that?”

She reached over, grabbed the frame, tracing over the cracks, and watched as a tear slid down her face, onto the glass. She didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she finally spoke, “Because I made a promise to myself that day.”

The boy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, silently telling her to continue, “I promised myself that I would be just as good as you three. That when I was drafted I could hold my number alongside you. That I could prove that I deserved to be here.”

If his heart wasn’t broken before, it sure was now. He quickly took out his phone to text his brothers to come to her room, asap. Pocketing his phone, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards him. She leaned her head on his chest as silent tears dampened his shirt.

He simply kissed her head and rubbed a hand up and down her one arm. A few minutes later they both heard the patter of footsteps and she pulled back to look at him, wiping her tears away, “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“It’s just Jack and Luke.”

“Even worse.”

The two younger boys stood in the doorway, “What’s happening?”

Quinn motioned for them to come in and then close the door. The two followed the directions and both sat on the bed beside the others. Jack looked between his older and his youngest sibling, “You were crying.”

She only nodded and Luke frowned at her response. Moments passed of just silence, no one daring to speak. Jack and Luke desperately wanted to know what had caused their sister to be upset but they were too nervous to ask, so they sat there. And then she said, “It’s fine, guys.”

“It’s not, y/n.”

“Okay, can someone tell us what happened?”

“Noth-”

“She feels like a failure.”

“She what-” “You what-”

Y/n looked down, playing with her fingers to distract herself as the frame still sat in her lap. Luke’s voice cracked, “Why?”

“Because I’m not as good as you.”

“Who said that?”

“Only everyone in the hockey world.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act fucking stupid, Luke. All of you. You’re on your phones way too much not to see it. The comments, the articles, everything. ‘Oh she only got drafted because she’s a Hughes’ ‘She’s not good enough’ ‘No wonder the Sharks picked her’ God it doesn’t stop. And all because I’m a girl.” More words spewed out of her mouth and the three sat there, silent, not moving an inch, scared that if they did it would trigger her more.

When the tears and other emotions caught up to her, she felt like she couldn’t breathe again. She was embarrassed she had let out her true feelings, ones she knew would hurt them. Quinn reached out for her but she shook her head, “I’m- I’m going to go find mom.”

And then she walked away, leaving the boys in her room, speechless.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Y/n spent the night with Ellen, crying into her arms as she comforted her, questioning whether or not she even wanted to play in the NHL at all. It all seemed useless to her, what good could she do except make herself look like a fool? Ellen was heartbroken at the words that came out of her daughter's mouth but she knew how she felt. It was common for any woman, no matter which sport or which workplace they were in, they feel inferior to those around her.

Slipping from the bed, Ellen made her way downstairs to start making breakfast for y/n. When she got down there, she was surprised to see her three sons already in the kitchen, Quinn making pancakes as Jack helped Luke set up a tray they had sitting on the counter. She ran a hand through her hair before walking over to stand next to her eldest, placing a hand on his back, “Hi Mom.”

“Hi, what are you guys doing up this early?”

“Making breakfast.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Why are you up so early making breakfast?”

Quinn looked between his brothers before looking back at his mom, “For y/n.”

Jack nodded from his place at the table, “We felt bad for last night.”

Ellen frowned briefly before smiling, “You boys did nothing wrong. It’s just that when you’re constantly compared to your siblings, especially when you're always going to be undermined anyway, it gets a lot. She still loves you.”

They all let a small smile grace their lips turning back to what they were doing. It was only a few more minutes before Quinn was setting the last pancake onto the plate alongside some of her other favorite foods.

They somehow managed to make their way upstairs without dropping the tray and knocked on her door. Their mom called up the stairs, “She’s still in my room!”

The three looked at each other in annoyance at having to now carry the tray slightly further down the hallway. Y/n let out a soft ‘come in’ when she heard the knock and sat up, running her hands through her hair to get it less messy. She looked confused when she saw her brothers enter with a tray full of food, “What’re you guys doing?”

“We made you breakfast,” Jack said happily, jumping onto the bed next to her.

Quinn set the tray down over her stretched-out legs before also sitting down next to her, Luke taking the place near her feet. She tilted her head, “Is it bad?”

“Quinn cooked.”

“Ah, so decent at best.” She laughed a little as she picked up the fork and took a bite of the eggs on her plate.

After she ate a few bites, Quinn spoke up, “We’re sorry for last night.”

She took a sip of her drink and then looked at them, “You guys didn’t do anything wrong.”

“We know, but we’re sorry for not understanding how you feel.”

“And for excluding you at your party.”

She only shrugged and went back in for more of her food, but Jack stopped her hand, “Hey.”

She looked between them annoyed, “What?”

“You’re the best hockey player we know.”

“Sure-”

“It’s true, y/n/n. You have had to put up with so much and you continue to prove yourself to your team and your coach, who cares what anyone else thinks.”

“And you don’t have to prove you deserve to be in the NHL, you do. Whether you know it or not.”

She teared up at their words, tackling Quinn into a hug afterward. Jack steadied the tray, careful not to spill anything onto the sheets. They joined the hug shortly after, smiling at the task of cheering her up was accomplished.

“Thank you.”

In hindsight, it wasn’t the approval of everyone else she needed, not the praise from anyone else, just her brothers. And if her brothers thought she was good enough, she did too.

𝗛𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗘𝗦 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

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@toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @prettyjoseph @nicole01-23 @shawnshoney @auriesphantom @dancerbailey3 @quinnylouhughesx43 @petite-potato4 @thehuggybearslover @absolutelyhugh3s @kei943 @dyslecticdutchman

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libraford · 6 months

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Okay so here's the rundown of everything that happened with the radio station because omg is it some drama.

In the 90's, there were a lot more independently-run radio stations. There wasn't IHeartRadio and there wasn't SiriusFM or JackFM. A dude could just have a radio station frequency and start a radio station as long as they complied with FCC regulations. And one of these radio stations in Columbus was an alternative station called CD101.

That frequency was sold to a classical station, which is fine because the exchange was friendly. And then the station moved to a different frequency, CD102.5.

So I know it may seem like radio DJ's are just weirdos with microphones and that's just not true- they are TALENTED weirdos with a microphone. You have to be personable, you have to know about the music you're playing, you have to be enthusiastic. And this station was pretty good about programming- they played local music, they played deep cuts, they played weird shit. There were programs for oddball and punk and goth music. They ran charities, they were at local festivals, they were in parades. Their radio station even had a small concert venue attached to it and they would invite visiting musicians to play. Like it really was about community.

But.

Radio stations are expensive, and they get more expensive every year, and in 2020 they were unable to renew their FCC license.

And then a couple months later, they were back again under CD 92.9. A radio station rented out the frequency to them and they were able to get back on the air. It was like nothing ever happened.

I'm not going to know what happened between the owner the frequency (Mark) and the owner of the station (Randy) because there's a lot of people talking about Mark overcharging on rent and Randy being late or short on payments.

An agreement was drawn up to have Randy buy the frequency over a period of (I think) 5 years. But the price was high and the terms of termination were brutal (if he was even one day late on a payment, it constituted termination of the contract). And Randy found those terms to be unreasonable.

So, they announced that the radio station would be going off the air February 1, 2024. And we're all pretty upset! Like, not to be like 'this station saved my life,' but this was a pretty consistent source of event news for me and its how I learned about a lot of concerts and artists. They played one of my friend's bands pretty often and its like 'hell yeah, I know that flutist!'

The DJs of CD92.9 said their good-byes on Facebook.

Meanwhile...

The new DJ of the new station announced that it was always his destiny run the station, and that the new station would be More local music, More deep cuts, More weird shit- and No Billie Eilish. "Out with the old, in with the new."

On one of the old DJ's good-bye posts, the new DJ tried to recruit him to the new station.

"Really? You're trying to poach me on my good-bye post?"

Mark makes a statement that the station will be committed to 'continuing the legacy of CD92.9' and will be using the same programming, the same music, the same DJ's.

Randy says 'the fuck it will, that wasn't the deal' and files a C&D. The DJ's are allowed to work for the new station if they so please, but the new station is not going to inherit shit. They cannot use the same programming, their staff, or any of the thousands of recordings they've use in the past 30 years. Any branding or attempt to brand as similar to CD92.9 is a breach of contract.

A facebook group formed around the support of CD 92.9. How to help, how to get their online stream onto your phone, upcoming events, sponsors to support, and a healthy amount of bitching. Admittedly, some of the posts were REAL stretches- like... I'm sorry darling, I know you want it to happen, but you are NOT going to get them on copyright infringement because their red X logo looks kind of like a similar red X logo from a radio station in Milwaukee.

CD92.9 goes down, 93X goes up.

He does play some more uncommon music, sure. But he doesn't announce who the artist is so its kind of like... what's the point in that? If you just play a local band, but we don't know who the local band is, how are we going to go to their concerts? He'd also talk smack about some bands and its like... don't? You're a public face now.

And then there's the radio edits, which he chose not to play on occasion, so the radio was full of f-bombs. FCC violation.

And as a DJ, simply not charismatic. Like I realize he's not Blorbo from my radio, but like I said- DJing is a skill.

So I just didn't listen. It wasn't worth my time to try. I found a different, less cool station to listen to in the car and I listened to the stream at home.

The mood of the facebook group shifted more towards support for the sponsors, events planned around 92.9, news about who is leaving and who is staying and we just kind of let 93X exist.

The promise of 'no Billie Eilish' fell through pretty quickly. Their music selection dropped to the usual 'alternative music' packet of Imagine Dragons and Twenty-One Pilots. And eventually...

They went off the air. After one month of airtime, it is now an oldies station.

93X DJ said 'well, congratulations you got what you wanted.' Which is half right. We wanted them to tank and our old station to succeed. We're still hopeful about the second part.

The Dispatch ran an article about the short-lived station. Ends with:

So just for like... summary-

Ya'll took over the station with a committed listener base, claimed that you'd be just continuing business as usual, tried to poach their talent, hired someone with no problem talking shit, and when your station failed...

... you want to blame a Facebook Group?

Are you a child?

Anyways, if you'd like to hear an alternative rock station in Columbus that's just doing their best, here's a link to the stream!

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doctorbitchcrxft · 6 months

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Bloody Mary | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions/descriptions of parental death, implication of suicide (take care of yourselves, my loves)

Word Count: 6379

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You and Dean hadn’t talked much since the events on the plane. In fact, the two of you barely looked at each other anymore. Not out of disgust, your stomach just fluttered every time you caught a glimpse of him for reasons you couldn’t explain. You didn’t exactly like him, but you definitely didn’t hate him, either. In fact, your most recent journal drawing had been of your hand wrapped in Dean’s. You smiled at the memory.

Sam slept in the front seat while Dean drove the three of you to Toledo, Ohio. You had actually been the one to find this case. Steven Shoemaker’s eyes had bled when he died. According to his obituary, his death had been swift. He was much too young to have had a stroke or an aneurysm, and seemed to be in good health. Therefore, you concluded this was your kind of gig.

Sam began to stir, catching your attention. You straightened in your seat as the Impala came to a halt in front of a large hospital complex. Sam’s stirring and whimpering was getting worse by the second.

Dean shook his brother. “Sam, wake up.”

He bolted straight up, confused, taking both you and Dean by surprise. After taking a second to catch his breath, he said, “I take it I was having a nightmare.”

“Yeah, another one,” Dean reminded him.

“Hey, at least I got some sleep.” Sam’s faux optimism caused you to shake your head.

“You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.”

Apparently, Sam was choosing the latter. “Are we here?” he asked.

Dean was happy to drop the subject, too. “Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.”

The three of you began to approach the morgue wing of the hospital. You noticed Sam was holding the newspaper you’d circled Mr. Shoemaker’s death in. “So what do you think really happened to this guy?”

“That's what we're gonna find out. Ladies first,” you joked, holding the door to the first floor of the hospital open for the brothers.

After making your way through the labyrinth of hallways, you found the dimly lit and vacated morgue. In the large room were two desks. One was labeled with a nameplate for Dr. D. Feiklowicz with neatly stacked packets, files, and books atop it. The other was a chaotic mess of stray papers labeled “Morgue Technician.”

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yeah. We're the, uh, med students,” Dean responded.

“Sorry?” the morgue tech asked.

“Oh, Doctor—” Dean gave his best shot at the name, “—Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. He— uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper.”

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch.” The morgue tech was smug, snarky, and clearly lacked people skills.

‘No wonder they have him locked up down here,’ you thought.

Dean changed course. “Oh, well, he said, uh— oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?”

“Sorry, I can't.” The morgue tech gave a tight-lipped smile. “Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.”

“An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then,” Dean tried. “Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out—”

“Uh, look, man,” the technician mocked, “No.”

Dean laughed a little and turned around, mumbling. “I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear.”

You took the opportunity to try a different tactic. You leaned down on the morgue technician’s desk, doing your best to take advantage of the fact that he probably has had little contact with women. “Please?” you asked innocently. “These guys are my tutors. I’m really struggling in this class, and I just—” you bit your lip, “—I really need a good grade on this paper.” You used your arms to push your breasts together. “Please?”

You could tell you had him on the ropes. “Uh…” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your cleavage. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I guess I could do that for you.”

You smiled innocently. “Thank you so much.”

He began leading the three of you into an attached room to where the bodies were stored for autopsies. You turned around and winked at the boys with a smug smile. Dean rolled his eyes.

The morgue technician pulled the rack Steven Shoemaker’s corpse rested on out from the wall of stainless steel cells.

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding,” Sam said.

The technician pulled the sheet back from over Steven’s face. “More than that. They practically liquefied.” The poor man’s eye sockets were still bloody, and they hadn’t yet been sewn shut. You could see the dried blood peeking out from under his partially-closed eyes.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean suggested.

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone,” the technician answered.

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam asked.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure.”

‘Nope, he’s way too young and in much too good health for that to have been the cause,’ you thought, but kept the thought at bay.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You didn’t like playing dumb, but with this guy, it was necessary.

“Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen,” the tech answered. Although, he was more responding to your boobs than to your face. You fought the urge to snap in front of his face and get his eyes back on target.

“The eyes?” Sam asked. “What would cause something like that?”

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims,” the morgue tech shrugged.

Dean’s tone was still aggravated with the guy. “Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?”

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor.”

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper.”

“I'm not really supposed to show you that.” The technician looked back at you.

You suppressed the bile rising in your throat. Before you could do anything else, Dean stepped in front of you and pulled out his wallet. He shoved two twenties at him, hoping that would be enough. You could see the technician deflate, but accepted the money anyway.

Dean’s actions puzzled you. But you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t flutter at the thought of him doing it out of protectiveness of you.

When you had finished looking over the police report, the three of you began making your way out of the building.

“Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing,” Sam suggested after having seen the report.

“How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean replied.

“Uh, almost never.”

“Exactly.”

“Alright, let's go talk to the daughter.” Sam started picking up his pace out of the building. You were happy to see him getting his mind off Jessica and back into the job.

“Wait, Dean.” You grabbed his arm lightly before he could catch up to his brother.

He turned to face you.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked.

“Do what?” He furrowed his brow.

“Give the morgue tech your hard-earned poker money,” you half-smiled.

“I just didn’t wanna watch you prostitute yourself for information,” he replied gruffly, turning away from you.

You took offense. “Hey, I was not—”

He turned back to you and brushed a hand over his hair. “You’re right, you werent.” He paused again, and his voice came back quiet. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you, ‘s all.”

Your heart swelled in your chest and your cheeks began to heat up. “Thanks, by the way,” you said as you continued walking. You nudged his shoulder with yours. “You’re going soft on me, Winchester.”

***

When you arrived at the Shoemaker house, you hadn’t expected to be in the midst of the funeral gathering. If you did, you would’ve dressed more appropriately. Given this fact, you felt slightly awkward when you knocked on the door. A man let you in and pointed you toward the backyard and the two daughters of Steven Shoemaker.

The two sisters were sitting with two blonde girls near the firepit. Dean addressed the older, dark-haired girl. “You must be Donna, right?”

“Yeah,” the girl responded.

“Hi, uh, we're really sorry,” Sam lamented.

“Thank you.”

“I'm Sam, this is Dean and (Y/N). We worked with your dad.”

The girl looked at her friend before looking back at your trio. “You did?” She seemed surprised.

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke…” Sam trailed off.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now,” one of Donna’s pretty blonde friends spoke up.

“It's okay. I'm okay,” she assured her friend.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean asked.

Donna shook her head. “No.”

The younger sister, who looked to be about twelve, turned around. “That's because it wasn't a stroke.”

You were intrigued.

“Lily, don't say that,” her sister urged her.

“What do you mean?” you asked the young girl.

“I'm sorry, she's just upset,” her sister responded for her.

“No,” Lily wasn’t having it. “It happened because of me.”

Donna placed a hand on her shoulder. “Sweetie, it didn't.”

You got down on Lily’s eye level. “Why would you say that?”

“Right before he died, I said it,” she said softly.

“Said what?”

She lowered her voice even more. “Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror. She took his eyes, that's what she does.”

Donna interrupted. “That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault.”

“I think your sister's right, Lily,” Dean broke in. “There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?”

Lily tried to take this in. She shook her head.

“Exactly,” you told her. “I’m sorry, we weren’t trying to upset you. We’ll just be leaving.” You pulled the boys away from Donna’s group and went back into the house. Making sure no one saw you three, you crept upstairs to the bathroom where Mr. Shoemaker passed away.

Sam pushed the door open, and you noticed some dried blood still on the floor. “The Bloody Mary legend. Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?”

“Not that I know of,” Dean replied. He walked ahead of Sam into the bathroom.

Sam stooped to the floor and touched the dried blood. “I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.”

“Yeah, but maybe it’s fine everywhere else, but not here,” you suggested.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam tried.

You shrugged as Dean opened the medicine cabinet.

“But according to the legend, the person who says B—” you stopped yourself and noticed your reflection in the medicine cabinet’s mirror. “You know what is the one that dies. But here—”

“Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah,” Dean finished for you.

Sam rose from the floor. “Right.”

“Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you-know-who scratches your eyes out.”

You considered Dean’s words for a moment. “It's worth checking in to.” You went to leave the bathroom when you noticed one of Donna’s pretty blonde friends approaching you.

“What are you doing up here?” she asked.

“We— We had to go to the bathroom,” you answered, not believing yourself.

“Who are you?” the girl pressed further.

Dean stepped closer to you from behind. “Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.”

She shook her head with scrunched eyebrows. “He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.”

“No, I know, I meant—”

She cut Dean off. “And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.”

Sam put a hand up to calm her. “Alright, alright, we think something happened to Donna's dad.”

The blonde looked at you three like you were stupid. “Yeah, a stroke.”

“I don’t think so,” you argued. “He was pretty young to be having a stroke. His eyes wouldn’t have liquified if he’d had a stroke. I think it might be something else.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms. “Like what?’

“Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth,” Sam responded.

“So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead,” Dean snarked.

“Who are you, cops?” she asked, her brows still furrowed.

“Something like that,” you shrugged.

“I'll tell you what. Here.” Sam took a piece of paper and a pen out of his jacket pocket and wrote his phone number down. “If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary, just give us a call.” He handed her the piece of paper before leading you and Dean down the hallway.

Your next stop was the public library.

“Alright, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town,” Dean began. “There's gonna be some sort of proof— Like a local woman who died nasty.”

“Yeah, but this is hard. The legend is unbelievably widespread with hundreds of different versions of who she actually is,” you rebutted. “One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride, there's a lot more.”

“Okay, then, so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asked you.

Sam answered. “Every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers, public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.”

“Well, that sounds annoying,” the older brother commented.

“No, it won't be so bad,” Sam replied, “As long as we…”

You cleared your throat, gesturing to the only two computers in the library that had “Out of Order” signs on them.

Sam chuckled humorlessly. “I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

The three of you picked up boxes of the town’s newspapers and numerous books of Toledo’s public records and brought them back to Sam and Dean’s motel room.

You were beginning to go cross-eyed after reading for so long. Minutes turned into hours. Dean was sitting in a chair, you were sprawled across the floor with papers and books scattered around you, and Sam eventually fell asleep.

You stood up to stretch your legs and noticed his closed eyes. “Poor fella,” you said quietly. “How’s he been sleeping?”

“How d’you think?” Dean responded, eyes never leaving his book.

You nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Maybe we should get him to take something,” you suggested.

Dean chuckled. “He won’t do it.”

“Is it just because I’m suggesting it that you’re saying that, or do you really think he won’t take it?” you countered.

He gave you a deadpan expression.

“You Winchesters are just about the most stubborn people I’ve ever met in my life. Including your dad,” you jested. You heard Dean chuckle a little, too.

“And I wanted to tell you,” you started, “I understand why you’d suspect me in your dad’s disappearance.”

He looked away from his book and over at you. “What do you mean?”

“What you said back in Colorado? The Wendigo case? I get it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’re still on that?”

“I mean, yeah, that was just about the most heated fight we’ve had. It kinda stuck with me,” you answered honestly, looking down at your stripey-sock-covered feet. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I understand.”

A moment passed silently.

“And I, um—” you took a deep breath, “I want you to trust me.” You looked back at Dean who was studying you carefully.

The tense moment was interrupted by Sam jolting awake in his bed. “Why'd you let me fall asleep?”

“Cause I'm an awesome brother.” Dean’s attention was back on his book. “So what did you dream about?”

“Lollipops and candy canes,” the younger brother responded hazily while staring up at the ceiling.

You laughed humorlessly.

“Did you guys find anything?” Sam asked.

“Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration?” Dean responded sarcastically. “No. I've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror—”

“And a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave—” you chimed in.

“But no Mary,” Dean finished for you.

“Maybe we just haven't found it yet,” Sam tried.

“I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area, you know… eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. There's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary,” Dean said.

Sam’s phone rang just as his brother finished talking. “Hello?” A look of concern crossed his face. He was trying to calm whoever it was on the other end down.

You waited until he got off the phone to bombard him with questions. “What? What happened?”

“Charlie,” he told you. “Her friend’s dead.”

***

Charlie sobbed as she relayed the story of what happened to her friend Jill. “And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her— her eyes. They were gone.”

You had met her in a park not an hour after she had called Sam.

“I'm sorry,” the latter responded.

“And she said it,” Charlie told you. “I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?”

“No, you're not insane,” you said.

“Oh, god, that makes me feel so much worse.” You feared that might be the case.

Sam was honest with her. “Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained.”

“And we're gonna stop it,” Dean assured Charlie, “but we could use your help.”

You knew exactly where Dean was going with this. And thankfully, Charlie obliged. She snuck you and the boys into Jill’s room through the window. Dean and Sam gave you a boost into the second story room before throwing up Dean’s duffel bag.

“What did you tell Jill's mom?” you asked Charlie.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things,” she replied simply. “I hate lying to her.”

You heard someone closing the blinds and curtains behind you. “Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights,” Dean instructed her.

She obeyed but asked, “What are you guys looking for?”

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it,” the older brother responded.

Sam handed you a digital camera. “Hey, night vision!” You turned it on. You aimed the camera at Dean.

“Do I look like Paris Hilton?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing an amused smile. You walked over to Jill’s closet door and began filming the mirror on it.

“So I don't get it,” Sam began. “I mean, the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?”

You shrugged.

“Beats me,” Dean answered. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke,” Charlie replied.

“Yeah, well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time.”

You had made your way over to the bathroom and filmed around the mirror. You stopped when you noticed a trickle of something running from behind it. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?” He came over to you.

“Look at this.” You showed him the substance oozing from behind the mirror.

Sam looked to his brother. “There's a black light in the trunk, right?”

While Dean left to get the light, you and Sam pulled the mirror off the wall. When Dean returned, you could see a handprint and the name “Gary Bryman” illuminated by the black light.

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie asked.

You looked up at her. “You know who that is?”

She shook her head. “No.”

You learned from Sam’s research and Charlie that Jill had killed Gary Bryman, an eight-year-old boy, in a hit and run accident. Dean then decided you needed to return to Donna’s house. When you pulled the medicine cabinet mirror off the wall, sure enough, there was another handprint and the name “Linda Shoemaker.” You learned from Donna that her mother had overdosed on sleeping pills. You had left Charlie at Donna’s house to comfort her friend after you and the boys had upset her with your questions about her mother’s death.

You then traveled to Fort Wayne, Indiana to investigate the death of a woman named Mary Worthington. She had died the same way these victims were; bleeding from the sockets where her eyes used to be. You spoke to the detective who was the lead on her case. He believed she spent her last moments trying to expose her killer she was having an affair with. She went as far as to start spelling out the name of her killer in her own blood on the back of her mirror. She only got to the third letter of her killer’s name before passing away. It made complete sense to you that her spirit would spend its time exposing the secrets of other murderers. Mary Worthington’s body had been cremated, but the mirror she wrote on had been returned to her family. Now, you and the boys were trying to track down where that mirror had ended up.

“Oh really?” Sam responded to the man on the phone. “Ah, that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror… Okay, well maybe next time… Alright, thanks.” He hung up.

“So?” you asked.

“So that was Mary's brother,” he informed you. “The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo.”

Dean momentarily looked away from the road to his brother. “So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?”

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow,” Sam responded.

“Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” you chimed in.

“Yeah, there is. Yeah, when someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped.”

Dean connected the dots. “So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit.”

“Yeah, but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?” you challenged.

“I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.”

“Yeah, I don't know, maybe,” Sam sighed. His phone rang. “Hello?... Charlie?”

***

You and the boys picked up Charlie and brought her to the motel you were staying in. You and the Winchesters were busying yourselves with covering every reflective surface in Sam and Dean’s room with sheets, blankets, jackets; anything. Charlie’s gorgeous blonde hair was knotted and messy, her eyes were puffy from crying but remained closed, and her knees were drawn into her chest.

Sam sat on the bed next to Charlie. “Hey, hey, it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, alright?”

She looked up slowly.

“Now listen,” he began softly. “You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?” Charlie’s voice trembled.

“No. No. Not anytime soon,” the brunet assured her.

You sat on the floor in front of her and put a hand on her knee. “We need to know what happened, babe.”

“We were in the bathroom.” Her eyes brimmed with tears again. “Donna said it.”

“That's not what we're talking about,” Dean stated. There was something dark behind his tone. “Something happened, didn't it? In your life— .a secret— where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?”

The tears were flowing from her eyes now. “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have.” She pulled her knees back to her chest and buried her face between them.

You felt completely horrible for her. But there was no time for a therapy session because you and the boys were off to that Toledo antique store where Mary’s mirror was being kept.

Dean sped down the road despite the pouring rain which you deeply wanted to protest against. You remained silent anyway.

“You know, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault.” Dean broke the silence.

“You know spirits don't exactly see shades of gray, Dean. Charlie had a secret, somebody died, and that's good enough for Mary,” you told him.

“I guess,” he shrugged.

“You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror,” Sam chimed in.

Dean turned his head to his brother. “Why, what do you mean?”

“Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror, so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.”

“Well, how do you know that's going to work?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. “I don't; not for sure.”

“Well who's gonna summon her?” his brother’s tone got a little panicked.

“I will. She'll come after me,” Sam replied solemnly.

“You know what, that's it.” Dean pulled over to the side of the road. “This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night— it's gonna kill you. Now, listen to me, it wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

“I don't blame you.” Sam’s voice cracked.

“Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done,” Dean responded sharply.

Sam tried to shake his emotion away. “I could've warned her.”

“About what? You didn't know what was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean I know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway,” Dean said.

“No you don't,” was all Sam could muster.

“I don't what?”

“You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything.”

You had been trying to stay out of it, but couldn’t hold it back anymore. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?”

You and Dean were taken aback. “No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.”

“Guys, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel, clenched his jaw, and pulled back out onto the road. The air was heavy and tense in the car. You sat back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest. No one spoke for the rest of the drive.

When you reached the shop, you picked the lock on the door to reveal dozens of mirrors.

“Well, that's just great,” Dean grumbled. He pulled out the picture you’d gotten from the detective in Indiana of Mary’s body next to the mirror. “Alright, let's start looking.”

The three of you split up. You were an incredibly detail-oriented person, but even still, all of the mirrors seemed the same to you.

“Maybe they've already sold it,” Dean called from across the room.

Your flashlight came to rest on a mirror you could swear you’d seen before. “I don't think so. C’mere, Dean.”

He came over to you and held up the photo to the mirror. And sure enough, it was a match.

“You sure about this?” Dean asked his brother.

Sam nodded and handed you his flashlight. Taking a deep breath, he says, “Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.”

You whipped your head in the direction of a light coming through the store.

“I'll go check that out. Stay here, be careful,” Dean ordered. “Smash anything that moves.” He crawled away from you and you heard him distantly say, “Crap.”

You paid no mind to Dean as you tightened your grip on the crowbar.

You heard a whooshing sound behind you and wheeled around. In the mirror was Mary. You sprang to action and smashed your crowbar through the dead center of it.

You could hear a distorted version of Sam’s voice coming from behind you, but before you could aid him, your own reflection caught your attention. It wasn’t quite syncing with your movements; instead looking at you menacingly.

Before you could move to hit it, you felt an insane pressure coming from behind your eyes, your throat constricted, and blood began to ooze down your face.

“You can’t keep running, (Y/N),” your reflection told you. “How could you? How could you be so careless?”

The blood dripping from your eyes began to mix with your tears. You didn’t have enough breath to protest. You began to sink to the floor, the crowbar clanging to the ground.

“It’s your fault that they’re gone. Why didn’t you try harder? Why didn’t you fight to keep them alive? Why did you have to kill them? Your guilt should eat you alive. You don’t deserve another family. You know you don’t deserve to be happy again. You know your recklessness will get these boys killed, too. You are so selfish! And your brother! If you hadn’t done what you did, he would still be alive, too. You are worthless. All you bring is death and—”

The pressure around your throat released when Dean’s crowbar went through the mirror. He barely spared you a second look before going over to his brother.

“Sam, Sammy!” you heard from behind you.

You clutched at your throat and began to cry. You knew Dean had turned cold once more because he heard what your reflection said.

Sam groaned in pain as you saw Dean shouldering his brother and pulling him toward the exit of the shop.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” Sam urged you.

You shakily stood and did your best to follow the brothers out. Your dizziness caused you to fall back down to the ground on top of shards of glass, making you yelp as they pierced your hands.

“Help her, Dean!” you heard Sam demand.

Dean came to your side, clearly in no hurry, and cradled you in his arms. Before he could get anymore than two steps, you noticed Mary crawling out of the frame of her original mirror. Her dark hair was matted and fell in front of her face. Her dress was tattered, and her limbs moved in an inhuman manner; cracking with every movement. You and Dean were sent flying across the floor toward Sam, and the bleeding of your eyes started again.

You looked to the mirror inches from your head. Despite your weakness, you forced yourself to grab it and turn its face toward Mary.

“You killed them!” you heard her reflection cry. “All those people! You killed them!” Mary started choking just as you had and then melted into a pool of blood on the ground. You threw the mirror you’d been holding and shattered it completely.

You dropped your head back to the floor.

“Hey Sam?” you heard Dean say.

“Yeah?”

“This has got to be like,what, six hundred years of bad luck?” the older brother joked.

Sam chuckled weakly. You couldn’t even muster up a laugh due to the bile rising in your throat. Memories were eating away at you, and the fact that Dean had heard your reflection was only adding to your anxiety. Your breath began to quicken, but you did your best to soothe yourself.

“(Y/N).” Sam drew you out of your trance. “Can you stand?”

You tried your best to, but couldn’t. Dean squatted down next to you. “C’mon.” He motioned for you to let him carry you. You complied. You looked up at his chiseled face. You swore he was handcrafted by the gods; perhaps Adonis himself. Your hazy mind couldn’t focus on anything aside from his beautiful green eyes. You had so much to say to him about what he’d heard. You knew he didn’t think highly of you, but your relationship had begun to get better. You didn’t want, well, you, to ruin it all now.

“Dean, I—” you started.

He cut you off. “We’ll talk later,” he said gruffly. Despite his cold and guarded tone, he put you down gently in the back of the Impala.

You ended up falling asleep in the back of the Impala. When you next awoke, you had been tucked into your bed in the motel. Your boots had been discarded, your jacket had been removed, and your key that you kept in your jacket pocket was now on the nightstand beside you. The gesture was sweet, but your mind immediately started reeling about the conversation you needed to have with Dean.

You checked the clock; it was ten in the morning. You were surprised how late you had slept, and figured the boys had dropped Charlie off; potentially had even left town without you. Your anxiety getting the best of you, you rushed over to their door. Dean opened it when you knocked.

“Hey,” you breathed.

“Hey,” he echoed.

“Can we talk?”

He nodded.

You led Dean back to your room. You sat cross-legged on your bed and Dean chose the chair across from you.

“Okay, um,” you sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“Who’d you kill, (Y/N)?” came his straightforward and dry response. “Why did it say you’d get us killed, too?”

You looked down at the floor, the tears beginning to well up in your waterline. “I wanna tell you, I just—”

“Look at me.” His voice was firm.

You did.

“I need to know.”

You took a deep breath. “When I was eighteen, I was coming back home from one of my first solo hunts. My dad had sent me to take out a vampire nest on the edge of the town we were staying in. There were only three vamps there at the time. I got so excited that I had nuked them all, I didn’t account for the fact that all three of them seemed like newbies. I didn’t… register, I guess, that one or more was probably missing.” You averted his gaze, struggling to keep your voice level. “And so, I left. I went back to the house we were squatting in, and, um, one of them followed me.” Tears began to roll down your cheeks.

“Sweetheart, that’s not your—”

You shook your head. “It is. He turned them, Dean. He turned my mom and my dad. I— I had no choice. I had to—” Your sentence was cut off by a sob, but Dean understood what you meant. You wiped a hand over your face and did your best to continue your story. “I sat with their bodies for a long time after. When my brother came back and saw what I’d done, he drew his gun on me. He, um, he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t let me explain. He couldn’t shoot me, though. He… He just… left. And then— And then, his best friend called me a few days later.” The tears came back. “He found my brother’s car.” You pressed a hand to your mouth. “And he was dead in it.” Broken sobs wracked your body once again. “It’s my fault that they’re gone, Dean, it’s my fault.”

You couldn’t bear to look at him. You knew how disgusted he must be with you. And then, you felt the bed dip beside you. Then, a hand on your arm. Then, he pulled you to his chest, and you melted into his embrace. Your cries still shook your body, but Dean’s strong arms held you together. He sat with you like that for a long time.

You and the boys had decided to leave Toledo sooner rather than later after Sam told you what Dean had done to the cops in front of the antique store. Long after leaving Toledo, Dean broke the comfortable silence that had settled over the car.

“Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is.”

The younger Winchester sighed. “Look, you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.”

Your eyes remained trained on Sam as he looked out the window at something you were passing by. His expression went from confused to scared to saddened, and you knew he was seeing Jessica. After all, you had no doubt your face mirrored his every time you saw your mom standing on a street corner or your dad’s bloodied body lying in your footpath. In time, you knew he would learn to live with it just as you had.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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bestoflupiniiipoll · 1 year

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Best of Lupin III Poll

#lupin iii #lupin the 3rd #lupin the third #the Columbus files #da capo of love #Fujiko’s unlucky days #castle of cagliostro #studio ghibli #polls #anime

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pupsmailbox · 16 days

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DECTECTIVE︰MYSTERY ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ adler. aeris. agatha. aiden. aisha. akakios. alec. alistair. amadio. amos. anastasia. andie. annika. ansel. arden. ariel. aspen. atlas. auda. audr. august. augustine. augustus. aventurine. avery. barett. beau. belladonna. benedict. bentey. bentley. bian. blanc. blythe. bonaventura. bradley. briony. buenaventura. calix. caper. casey. castle. cebba. chance. chanceline. chancey. charis. chase. cipher. claude. cleo. cliff. clu. clue. clyde. colette. columbus. conan. constance. cora. corbin. cypher. daley. dalton. damon. daphne. darcie. darcy. darnell. darwin. dean. deanna. declan. dee. delia. devin. dex. dice. dot. dottie. doyle. duncan. edith. edmund. edric. edward. eivor. elmer. elysium. enigma. fog. fortuna. fortune. foxglove. gizem. godid. hannah. harley. harlow. harper. haze. holmes. indigo. iris. juke. jules. kasper. keme. king. leto. lilith. liraz. locke. maya. mist. morana. myst. mystery. nancy. neil. noir. noire. obscure. odilia. onni. ophelia. ortun. otto. pandora. poe. poirot. quinn. river. rivers. runa. rune. runfrid. sam. scarlet. selma. sher. sherlock. silver. sitheach. spy. sylvi. sylvia. tec. tyche. tychon. veil. veila. velma. vera. verity. vesper. vesta. watson. widow. wisteria. zero.

PRONOUNS ⌇ analyze/analyze. book/book. caper/caper. case/case. chance/chance. cipher/cipher. claw/claw. clu/clue. clue/clue. code/code. crime/crime. crime/scene. cypher/cypher. deal/deal. detect/detect. detect/detective. detective/detective. en/en. end/end. enigma/enigma. evidence/evidence. eye/eye. fate/fate. file/file. find/find. flaw/flaw. game/game. glass/glasse. grit/git. hidden/hidden. hide/hide. hint/hint. hunt/hunt. hypo/hypothesi. inv/investigate. invest/investigate. investigate/investigate. it/it. justice/justice. lore/lore. luck/luck. magni/magnifying. magnifying/glas. murder/murder. mys/mystery. myst/myst. myst/mystery. mystery/mysterie. mystery/mystery. noir/noir. note/note. obscure/obscure. per/perplex. poi/poison. private/private. psych/psych. puz/puzzle. puzz/puzzle. puzzle/puzzle. que/question. read/read. rid/riddle. rob/rob. rob/robbery. rpg/rpg. scene/scene. search/search. search/searche. sec/secret. secret/secret. see/see. seek/seek. sight/sight. sleu/sleuth sleuth/sleuth. sol/solution. sol/solve. solution/solution. solve/solve. spot/spot. spy/spy. stake/out. stake/stake. step/step. stole/stolen. story/storie. tape/tape. thon/thon. threat/threat. track/track. watch/watche. ⚰️ . ❓ . 🎭 . 🎮 . 🐦‍⬛ . 💉 . 💊 . 💡 . 📁 . 📖 . 📚 . 📹 . 🔎 . 🔐 . 🔑 . 🕹️ . 🗃️ . 🗝️ . 🗞️ . 🚬 . 🧩 . 🧬 . 🩺 .

#⭐️lists #id pack #npt #nput #name suggestions #name ideas #name list #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #neopronouns #emojiself #nounself

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odinsblog · 1 year

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DONALD TRUMP: MOBBED UP AF - A RETROSPECTIVE

(by @saradannerdukic)

1970s & 1980s: wave of Russian criminals arrive in New York and begin interfacing with established American organized crime networks (La Cosa Nostra/The Five Families aka Bonanno, Genovese, Colombo, Lucchese, Gambino) (source)

1977: KGB reportedly opens file on Donald Trump (source).

1979: Construction begins on Trump Tower. Trump purchases overpriced concrete from mafia bosses Anthony “Fat Tony” Salerno and Paul Castellano of the Genovese and Gambino crime families (respectively). (source)

1980: Trump's mentor, Roy Cohn, introduces Donald to Roger Stone. (source)

1982: New York City Housing Commissioner Anthony Gliedman received what he described as an “abusive and profane” call from someone angry that Gliedman had opposed Trump’s request for a $20 million tax abatement. Gliedman reported the call to the FBI, saying the caller was “threatening his life.” (source)

June 3, 1983: Rudy Giuliani becomes US attorney for SDNY

January, 1984: Vladimir Alexandrovich Kryuchkov, First Chief Directorate of the KGB arm responsible for gathering foreign intelligence, urges his officers to be more creative with agent recruitment - and to use money and flattery vs. alignment with Soviet ideology. Additionally, he gives the directive to find "U.S. targets to cultivate or, at the very least, official contacts...The main effort must be concentrated on acquiring valuable agents." (source)

1984: Russian émigré David Bogatin pays cash for five apartments in Trump Tower. (source). Bogatin's brother ran a $150 million stock scam with Russian mafia boss Semion Mogilevich (source)

1985: Trump reportedly “apoplectic” when he loses bid to re-develop the Coliseum at Columbus Circle to Salomon Brothers-backed Mort Zuckerman. (source) More on Trump’s proposal here.

October 1985: Trump's helicopter pilot indicted on drug trafficking charges. Trump doesn't fire him. Instead, he leases his personally-owned unit in Trump Plaza Apartments to him with an agreement of half the rent is to be paid in cash, the other half in unspecified helicopter services. Trump also writes a letter on behalf of his pilot (Weichselbaum), calling him "a credit to the community.” Who does the case end up with? Federal judge Maryanne Trump, Donald's sister. (source)

Autumn, 1986: Trump meets Soviet ambassador Yuri Dubinin. And per Trump's own account in Art of the Deal, “One thing led to another, and now I’m talking about building a large luxury hotel, across the street from the Kremlin, in partnership with the Soviet government.” (source)

1986: Trump makes the rounds in the news offering to negotiate with the Russians (source), and also angles for a Soviet posting in the Reagan administration (source)

March 16, 1987: Bogatin (who had purchased multiple apartments in Trump Tower for cash) pleads guilty to taking part in a massive gasoline-bootlegging scheme with Russian mobsters. The government seized his five condos at Trump Tower, because he'd used them to “launder money, to shelter and hide assets.” A Senate investigation into organized crime later revealed that Bogatin was a leading figure in the Russian mob in New York. (from New Republic)

April 3, 1987: Trump excluded from bidding on Australian casino deal because of mafia connections (per Australian police) (source)

July 4, 1987: Trump flies to the USSR for the first time after being personally invited - the trip is arranged by the Soviet government (source).

1987: Trump talks extensively in an interview about nuclear bombs, and states that his pilot used to work for Qaddafi. In the same interview, Trump describes the type of bomb he thinks will be possible in the future: "Carry it in your briefcase, right. I’m not even talking about airplanes and missiles. You’ll walk in with your damn tape recorder,” he says, pointing to my innocent Sony, “and you’ll say it’s a tape recorder and nobody will be able to tell the difference. I mean, that’s where it’s going to be in 20 years.” (source)

1988: Trump starts talking about running for president on Oprah (source).

1988: Trump purchases a yacht from Adnan Khashoggi, the uncle of Jamal Khashoggi (source) (source)

1988: American Media Inc. (AMI) comes into being after Enquirer owner Generoso Pope dies. (source) Among the interested parties are Robert Maxwell (source), the father of Ghislaine Maxwell - Jeffrey Epstein's partner. (source). Among the trustees of the Pope estate are Peter G. Peterson, a partner in the Blackstone Group (source) - a private equity firm founded by Steven Schwarzman (source). (More on Schwarzman and his relation to Trump here). According to Pope's son, Paul, The Enquirer was started with a $75,000 loan from the mafia (source).

October 11, 1989: helicopter crashes with 3 Trump casino execs aboard (source). Trump claimed he was supposed to be on it, but then changed his mind at the last minute. (source) After their deaths, he blamed them for the failure of his Atlantic City casino (source) The helicopter's pilot was identified by the state police as Robert Kent of Ronkonkoma, L.I., and its co-pilot as Lawrence Diener of Westbury, L.I. b/b

1990: Wall Street bond house Salomon Brothers advises institutional clients to sell bonds issue from Trump's Castle Casino in Atlantic City, due to debt and performance concerns. (source)

1991: Trump declares bankruptcy (source)

1991: Trump sells his yacht to Prince Al-Waleed bin Talal (source) (source)

December 17, 1991: Fred Trump gives Donald an interest-free loan by purchasing $3.5 million worth of casino chips at Trump Castle casino, circumventing bankruptcy rules and enabling Donald to make the interest payment due on his bonds. (source)

1992: Trump declares bankruptcy an additional 3 times stemming from various properties he's over-leveraged. (source)

1994: Trump allegedly rapes and beats a 13-year-old girl at a party with Jeffrey Epstein, multiple times. In the filed complaint, the 13-year-old was threatened to be "disappeared" like another young girl had been if she told anyone. (source)

October 20, 1994: Christine Seymour, Roy Cohn's secretary (Cohn was Trump's mentor), who was set to publish a tell-all book, dies in head-on collision with tractor trailer (source)

1995: Trump reportedly in Moscow to discuss matters related to Okhotny Ryad underground mall on Manezh Square. (source)

The trip is also reference in this article: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1997/05/19/trump-solo

1995: Trump sells Plaza Hotel to Alwaleed bin Talal (source) Barbara Corcoran brokers the deal (source)

June 8, 1995: Vyacheslav Ivankov arrested (source). Ivankov was known to be a notoriously brutal gangster in the upper echelon of the Russian mafia. (source) After having difficulty finding him, the FBI picked up his trail at Trump Taj Mahal, and then discovered that Ivankov had a luxury condo in Trump Tower. (source) According to Robert Friedman in his book, Red Mafiya, Friedman viewed Ivankov's personal phone book containing "a working number for the Trump Organization’s Trump Tower Residence, and a Trump Organization office fax machine." (this is listed as a citation at the end of the book). Ivankov is also mentioned in this 2003 DOJ paper on organized crime, with a forward by Bruce Ohr (pp 49).

1996: Trump goes to Russia with Howard Lorber (source). Lorber later donated to the Trump inaugural fund (source).

1998: Trump Taj Mahal fined for currency transaction reporting violations (source)

February 1999: Evercore Capital Partners L.L.C., headed by former Deputy Treasury Secretary Roger C. Altman, acquires American Media, Inc. and places David Pecker at the helm. (source)

1999: Trump's first run for president (source)

2000/2001: Mark Burnett in negotiations with Putin for a show called "Destination Mir." (source)

October 2001: AMI offices in Boca Raton are attacked with anthrax (source). Later, in 2004, a cleaning company owned by Rudy Giuliani is contracted to clean up the anthrax, with his company, Bio-One, slated to rent/occupy the building after cleanup. (source) The contract later ended in a feud. (source)

2002: Mark Burnett begins talks with Trump regarding The Apprentice. (source)

2002 - 2011: The Bayrock Group partners with the Trump Organization on developments including the Trump SoHo hotel (source). Principals in the group include Felix Sater - believed to be connected with Semion Mogilevich (source) - and Tevfik Arif (source).

2004: Trump declares bankruptcy again. (source)

Spring 2004: The Apprentice debuts (source)

May 2004: Diamond dealer and former Trump Tower tenant (1 year prior he'd lived right below Kellyanne Conway) Eduard Nektalov is shot on 6th Avenue (source). He was reportedly cooperating with federal authorities on a money laundering investigation (source) More on money laundering and Trump properties here.

2005: at the same time Trump is unable to get a 25 million pound loan from Bank of Scotland due to being a credit risk (source), Deutsche Bank (who later is hit with massive fines for money laundering) loans Trump nearly one billion dollars. Trump's banker at Deutsche Bank is Justice Kennedy's son. (source).

2006: Felix Sater escorts the Trump children during their trip to Russia (according to Sater) (source). Later, in emails to Michael Cohen, Sater says that he'd arranged for Ivanka to sit in Putin's chair. (source).

2006: Paul Manafort buys unit in Trump Tower (source).

2006 - 2009: Trump makes multiple attempts (and fails) to get a loan from the Bank of Scotland to purchase Hamilton Hall. The bank executive "expressed concern that Trump would hold the bank to 'future ransom'” (source)

2007 - 2016: Buyers tied to Russia make 86 cash purchases at Trump properties. (source)

2008: Soviet-born (Moldovia) Orly Taitz helps bring suit regarding Obama's citizenship/birth certificate. (source)

2008: Junior brags that they're getting a lot of money from Russia. (source)

2008: Russian oligarch buys a Palm Beach mansion from Trump, paying twice the value (source).

August 27, 2008: a small-time scam artist transfers a Beverly Hills, California, mansion to Donald Trump for $0. (source)

November 2008: Unable to meet his obligations for the nearly 1 billion dollar loan they gave him, Trump sues Deutsche Bank saying he shouldn't have to make good on his promise because of the economic crash. (source)

2009: Trump declares bankruptcy again. (source)

2009: a lawyer representing Trump Atlantic City casino creditors says he got threatening phone calls. The FBI traced one of them to a payphone outside the “Late Show With David Letterman,” where Trump was appearing.

“My name is Carmine,” the caller told the lawyer, Kristopher Hansen. “I don’t know why you’re fucking with Mr. Trump but if you keep fucking with Mr. Trump, we know where you live and we’re going to your house for your wife and kids.” (source)

July 23, 2009: Stormy Daniels' political advisor's car explodes (source). This was approximately 3 years after her affair with Trump (source).

August 2009: After multiple tries dating back to 2006, Trump denied a final time for loan for 25 million pounds from Bank of Scotland because the bank considered it "too risky." (source)

2010: Tevfik Arif, a principal of the Bayrock Group - which at this time is partnering with the Trump organization on a variety of projects - is arrested in a Turkish prostitution sting. (source). Charges were later dropped by Turkish authorities.

July 25, 2011: President Obama issues executive order declaring organized crime a national security emergency. (source)

2011 - 2015: Deutsche Bank, who 5 years previous had given Donald Trump nearly 1 billion dollars when Bank of Scotland wouldn't loan him 25 million pounds, is laundering billions of dollars with the help of Russians. (source)

2011: Eric Trump brags that they have access to millions of dollars from Russians. (source)

2011 - 2015: Donald Trump begins paying for his properties with hundreds of millions of dollars in cash. (source)

January 1, 2012: former Trump bodyguard dies from apparent overdose (source).

2013: Trump walks out of a BBC Panorama interview when asked about his connections with Felix Sater. (source)

April 16, 2013: Preet Bharara, then US attorney for SDNY, announces charges against massive Russian organized crime ring operating out of Trump Tower. (source)

June 16, 2013: Trump announces Miss Universe pageant will be in Moscow. (source)

November 9, 2013: Miss Universe pageant (source). One of the fugitives indicted in the Trump Tower organized crime ring in April, ALIMZHAN TOKHTAKHOUNOV, is a guest of honor there. (source)

2014: Steve Bannon, while at Cambridge Analytica, orders testing on Putin messaging with Americans. (source)

February 10, 2014: Trump praises Putin on Fox & Friends. (source)

March 6, 2015: Trump Taj Mahal fined for money laundering. (source)

2015: Michael Cohen threatens a reporter covering Trump's divorce with Ivana. “I’m warning you, tread very fucking lightly, because what I’m going to do to you is going to be fucking disgusting,” the Daily Beast’s Tim Mak, recalled Cohen telling him. “You write a story that has Mr. Trump’s name in it, with the word ‘rape,’ and I’m going to mess your life up … for as long as you’re on this frickin’ planet.” (source) (source)

April 18, 2015: Trump's former pilot dies in head-on collision (source).

November 3, 2015: Felix Sater, who is believed to work for Semion Mogilevich (source) writes Michael Cohen stating that he'll get buy-in from Putin and that they'll engineer Trump's presidency. (source)

November 5, 2015: former head of RT Mikhail Lesin found dead in DC hotel room with blunt force trauma to head, neck and torso. He had a meeting with DOJ scheduled for following day. (source)

January 23, 2016: Trump tells the crowd at a rally that he could shoot someone in the middle of 5th Avenue and not lose voters. (source)

February 23, 2016: Trump tells the crowd at a rally that he'd like to punch a protestor in the face, and "I love the old days. You know what they used to do to guys like that when they were in a place like this? They’d be carried out on a stretcher, folks.” (source)

March 29, 2016: Paul Manafort joins Trump campaign. (source)

April - May 2016: George Papadopoulos in communication with “high ranking Russian official” in an attempt to set up meetings between Trump team and Russian reps, w/the promise “that the Kremlin had 'dirt' on Hillary Clinton in the form of “thousands of emails…” (source)

May 2016: Stephen Schwarzman flies to Riyadh to meet with Mohammed bin Salman - then the deputy crown prince of Saudi Arabia - about infrastructure, and presumably the $20 billion fund that's announced a year later. (source) More on Schwarzman's relationship with Trump, and Saudi Arabia here. More on Schwarzman's links to Russia and Rosneft here.

Summer 2016: Stefan Halper, an FBI informant, approaches Trump campaign officials. (source)

June 9, 2016: Trump Tower meeting with Russians, Manafort, Kushner, Don Jr.. (source). Present at the meeting was Nataliya Veselnitskaya, who at the time was representing Prevezon (source), a company implicated in a money-laundering case at SDNY (source)

June 14, 2016: News breaks that the DNC has been hacked by Russians. (source)

June 14, 2016: Michael Cohen cancels his planned trip to Moscow to discuss Trump Tower Moscow (source)

Sometime after July 19, 2016: Trump warned by FBI that Russians will try to infiltrate campaign. (source)

July 2016: FBI opens counter intelligence investigation into Trump campaign. (source) (source)

September, 2016: Trump and Cohen discuss hush money and contingency for if guy gets hit by a truck. (source)

October 31, 2016: Mother Jones reports "A Veteran Spy Has Given the FBI Information Alleging a Russian Operation to Cultivate Donald Trump"

November 7, 2016 (one day before election day): Connie Watton, maid of Stephen Schwarzman - a Trump AND Kremlin friend - is pushed in front of a subway. (source) The woman who pushed her is assigned defense attorney Mathew Mari, known for his legal work for the Bonanno crime family. More on Schwarzman's relationship with Trump, and Saudi Arabia here. More on Schwarzman's links to Russia and Rosneft here. Schwarzman had also financed Kushner projects and gave Jared Kushner a loan (source).

November 8, 2016 (election day): Russian diplomat Sergei Krivov found unconscious at the Russian Consulate in New York and died on the scene. (source)

December 2016: FSB officers arrested in Russia. (source)

December 2016: Jared Kushner instructs Michael Flynn to sabotage US foreign policy. (source)

December 1 or 2, 2016: Kushner tries to set up secret back channel with Russians using Russians' secure facilities. (source)

December 1, 2016: Jared Kushner and Michael Flynn meet with Sergei Kislyak at Trump Tower (source)

December 13-14, 2016 (date not confirmed): Jared Kushner meets with Sergey Gorkov, "a graduate of the academy of the Federal Security Service, or FSB, the domestic intelligence arm of the former Soviet KGB, who was appointed by Putin to the post less than a year before his encounter with Kushner." (source)

December 19, 2016: Russia's ambassador to Turkey, Andrei Karlov, is killed. (source)

December 19, 2016: Russian diplomat to Latin America, Peter Polshikov, is killed. (source)

December 20, 2016: Methbot white paper published. (source)

December 26, 2016: Ex-KGB chief Oleg Erovinkin, who was suspected of helping draft the Trump dossier, found dead in the back of his car. (source)

December 29, 2016: Obama expels 35 Russian diplomats. (source)

December 29, 2016: KT McFarland sends email stating that "If there is a tit-for-tat escalation Trump will have difficulty improving relations with Russia, which has just thrown U.S.A. election to him," (source)

December 29, 2016: Flynn calls Kislyak to discuss the expelling of the diplomates and asks that the Russians not retaliate. (source)

January 6, 2017: Trump, McFarland, Pence, Flynn, Priebus, Pompeo and Bossert briefed with classified intelligence report by Brennan, Clapper, Comey. (source) That same day, DNI releases this report.

January 9, 2017: Russian Consul in Athens, Greece, Andrei Malanin, found dead in his apartment (source)

January 10, 2017: Buzzfeed publishes Steele Dossier. (source)

January 24, 2017: Peter Strzok interviews Michael Flynn. (source)

January 27, 2017: Russia's Ambassador to India, Alexander Kadakin, dies. (source)

January 30, 2017: New York State Department of Financial Services fines Deutsche Bank $425 million for massive Russian mirror trading scheme. (source)

February 2017: Trump's bodyguard, a Trump Organization lawyer and a third man raid Harold Bornstein's office, taking Trump's medical records. (source)

February 20, 2017: Vitaly Churkin, Russia's ambassador to the UN, dies suddenly in New York (source)

March 2, 2017: Ukrainian businessman with links to Trump found dead from undetermined causes. Oronov was Michael Cohen's brother's father-in-law, and Cohen did business with him. (source)

March 11, 2017: Trump fires Preet Bharara, who as US Attorney of SDNY had led the breakup of a massive Russian organized crime ring operating out of Trump Tower. (source)

March 16, 2017: laptop stolen from Secret Service agent's car while parked in her driveway. The laptop contained highly sensitive information including floor plans and evacuation protocol for Trump Tower. (source)

March 20, 2017: It's learned that the FBI had launched a counter intelligence investigation into the Trump campaign and Russian links in July of 2016. (source) (source)

March 21, 2017: A lawyer for a Putin-foe, Nikolai Gorokhov, reportedly thrown from a window in Moscow. Gorokhov was set to testify as a U.S. government witness in a money laundering case initiated by SDNY (led by Preet Bahrara). (source) "The alleged vehicle by which these dirty assets were washed clean was a Cyprus-registered company called Prevezon Holdings Ltd." (source) Prevezon is represented by Nataliya Veselnitskaya at the time that she attends the Trump Tower meeting in June of 2016. (source)

March 23, 2017: former Russian MP, Denis Voronenkov, shot dead in Kiev. (source)

March 30, 2017: FBI raids Trump-linked casino in Saipan. (source)

March 30, 2017: Mike Flynn asks for immunity. (source)

May 1, 2017: Scott Christianson, investigative reporter for McClatchy, publishes this:

May 9, 2017: Trump fires FBI director James Comey. (source)

May 2017 (date unclear): FBI opens counter intelligence investigation into Trump. (source)

May 10: 2017: Subpoenas issued to Michael Flynn by Senate Intelligence Committee. (source)

May 10, 2017: closed-door meeting in Oval Office with Russians. (source)

May 10, 2017: Roger Ailes falls in his home at Palm Beach Country. (source)

May 11, 2017: FBI raids GOP consulting firm in Maryland. (source)

May 14, 2017: Scott Christianson dies after falling down the stairs at his home (source)

May 14 2017: Republic operative Peter Smith found dead in Minnesota 10 days after speaking with WSJ (source)

Smith had said he'd been working with Michael Flynn (source).

May 17, 2017: Robert Mueller appointed special counsel (source).

May 18, 2017: Roger Ailes dies from head injury he'd sustained 8 days earlier (source).

May 20-21, 2017: Trump takes his first overseas trip as president to Saudi Arabia. During this trip, it's announced that Blackstone, led by Stephen Schwarzman, will manage Saudi Arabia's $20 billion investment fund. (source) Most of the investment will be in US infrastructure (source) During that trip, Trump also meets with Kirill Dmitriev of VEB bank (source)

July 4, 2017: body washes up on shore of Trump golf course in California. (source) (source)

July 26, 2017: Paul Manafort's home raided (source)

July 27, 2017: George Papadopoulos arrested. (source)

August 3, 2017: Secret Service kicked out of Trump Tower (source).

August 23, 2017: Russian ambassador to Sudan, Mirgayas Shirinsky, found dead. (source)

September 1, 2017: fire at Russian consulate in San Francisco (source).

September 14, 2017: Junior ditches Secret Service to go to Canada (source).

September 25, 2017: Richard Beckler, Trump's appointee as General Counsel of GSA dies (source). Beckler is the GSA staff member who'd assured Trump that requests for materials/emails from special counsel would not be honored (source).

September 27, 2017: Paul Horner, fake news writer who took credit for Trump’s win, dies of apparent overdose (source)

October 2017: Trump muses that he'll likely get to place 4 justices on the Supreme Court because of future health issues they may have (source).

October 16, 2017: Panama Papers journalist killed with a car bomb. (source)

October 25, 2017: Jared Kushner leaves on unannounced visit to Saudi Arabia.

October 26, 2017: Investigator (Catherine Hunt, a former FBI agent) working on behalf of 9/11 families suing Saudi Arabia interviews Jamal Khashoggi. Khashoggi texted Saudi officials that same day.

(as claimed by the lawyer working on behalf of the families)

October 28, 2018: Jared Kushner returns from unannounced visit to Saudi Arabia.

October 30, 2017: Papadopoulos guilty plea revealed (source)

November 3, 2017: Alex van der Zwaan is interviewed by the FBI. (source)

November 4, 2017: Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman consolidates power and arrests several princes, including Prince Alwaleed bin-Talal. (source) Trump had previously sold his yacht (1991) and the Plaza Hotel to Alwaleed bin-Talal (source).

November 2017: Trump picks fights with North Korea. (source)

November 17, 2017: Brett Kavanaugh added to short list of SCOTUS nominees. (source)

December 1, 2017: Michael Flynn pleads guilty to lying to the FBI. (source)

December 5, 2017: It's reported that Deutsche Bank received subpoena from Robert Mueller (source) In-depth Rachel Maddow segment on Deutsche Bank and the subpoena here.

December 16, 2017: Trump learns that Mueller has in his possession all of their transition emails on the .gov domain, obtained via the GSA. (source)

December 22, 2017: House Intelligence Committee interviews Rhona Graff

December 30, 2017: Fire at home linked to Ivanka's diamond business (source).

January 8, 2018: Fire at Trump Tower (source)

January 20, 2018: Former spokesman for Rick Gates, Glenn Selig, dies in Afghanistan hotel attack. Selig was a well-known Tampa Bay Area TV anchor. (source)

January 25, 2018: It's learned that Dutch intelligence had infiltrated Russian hacker group Cozy Bear and witnessed in real time as they attacked the State Department as well as the DNC. (source)

January 27, 2018: Steve Wynn resigns as RNC finance chair amid sexual assault allegations (source).

January 31, 2018: chartered train carrying GOP lawmakers to retreat crashes into truck (source).

February 16, 2018: Indictment of 12 Russians, outlining their methods of election interference (indictment sealed). (source)

February 20, 2018: Alex van der Zwaan pleads guilty to making false statements to FBI. (source)

February 22, 2018: Paul Manafort and Richard Gates indicted. (source)

February 23 - 27, 2018: Trump Tower Panama standoff with physical altercations and armed guards (source).

Week of March 4 - 10, 2018 (date unclear): FBI raids Trump-linked casino in Saipan a second time. (source)

March 4, 2018: Sergei Skripal and his daughter Yulia, found poisoned on a park bench in Salisbury. (source)

March 16, 2018: FBI Deputy Director Andrew McCabe fired. (source)

April 7, 2018: ANOTHER Trump Tower Fire - art dealer Todd Brassner dies (source); Michael Cohen texts Dennis Shields with a warning to "get out ASAP" (source).

April 9, 2018: FBI raids Michael Cohen's home, hotel room, and office (source).

April 13, 2018: RNC Finance Chair Elliot Broidy resigns in midst hush money payoff scandal (source).

April 15 or 16, 2018: Matthew Mellon (finance chair, NY RNC, and who made his fortune in cryptocurrency) dies of apparent overdose (source). Note - original link/story is now gone; here are alternate sources for that story: https://twitter.com/business/status/986135482013769728

April 24, 2018: Devin Nunes sends classified letter to Jeff Sessions regarding FBI informant (source) who is later revealed to be Stefan Halper. (source)

April 28, 2018: Fire at Trump Tower Azerbaijan (source).

Week of April 29, 2018: Devin Nunes issues subpoena to DOJ seeking information about FBI informant (later revealed to be Stefan Halper). (source)

June 20, 2018: New York State Department of Financial Services fines Deutsche Bank $205 million for "unlawful, unsafe and unsound conduct in its foreign exchange trading business." (source)

June 22, 2018: Trump-backed Katie Arrington seriously injured in head-in collision (source).

June 27, 2018: Justice Kennedy, whose son was Donald Trump's banker, unexpectedly announces retirement. (source) Trump and Kennedy reportedly had a special relationship (source).

July 4, 2018: delegation of Republicans go to Moscow. (source)

July 9, 2018: Brett Kavanaugh nominated to SCOTUS. (source)

July 14, 2018: Indictment of 12 Russians/internet research agency unsealed (source).

July 16, 2018: Maria Butina criminal complaint unsealed. (source)

July 16, 2018: Trump meets with Putin in Helsinki. (source)

July 17, 2018: Secret Service agent dies in Scotland. After falling ill at Trump's golf course in Turnberry, he died the day after the Helsinki meeting (source) (source). (obituary)

July 25, 2018: dead body found in waters off Trump NYC golf course (source).

August 6, 2018: Rand Paul goes to Russia. (source)

August 10, 2018: Dennis Shields - the same guy Cohen texted back in April - found dead in Trump Tower (source)

August 15, 2018: Trump revokes John Brennan's security clearance. (source)

August 16, 2018: mystery case before grand jury initiated. (source)

October 2, 2018: Jamal Khashoggi murdered on orders from Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. (source) Trump later disputes the findings of the CIA and stands with MBS, stating that too much money is at stake. (source)

October 3, 2018: Nikki Hailey resigns, but resignation is not yet publicly announced. (source)

October 3, 2018: The Russian deputy attorney general (Saak Karapetyan) who reportedly directed Natalya Veselnitskaya (the lawyer who met with the Trump campaign in Trump Tower) dies in a helicopter crash (source). It was later reported that the pilot of the helicopter had been shot. (source)

October 9, 2018: Internet Research Agency (aka the troll farm) named in DOJ indictment (unsealed July 14, 2018) set on fire. (source)

October 9, 2018: Nikki Haley announces resignation.

October 9, 2018: New York Times reports that Saudi Arabia had ordered Khashoggi's murder.

October 17, 2018: Don McGahn resigns. (source)

October 19, 2018: "Project Lahkta" (Russian election interference) criminal complaint unsealed (source)

October 21, 2018: John Bolton goes to Russia to meet with Putin. (source)

October 22 - 27, 2018: week of terror begins with bombs at the home of George Soros. (source). It was followed by bombs sent to Bill and Hillary Clinton (Oct. 23); Barack Obama, CNN, John Brennan, Debbie Wasserman Schultz, Eric Holder and Maxine Waters (October 24); Robert de Niro and Joe Biden (October 25); and Cory Booker, James Clapper, Kamala Harris, and Tom Steyer (October 26). It ends with mass shooting at Tree of Life synagogue on October 27 (source).

October 30, 2018: Whitey Bulger killed. (source)

November 21, 2018: head of GRU agency accused of DNC hacks and Skripal poisoning dies, reportedly after a long illness. (source)

November 27, 2018: Methbot indictment unsealed at EDNY. (source)

November 28, 2018: Miami Herald publishes Perversion of Justice investigative report.

November 29, 2018: Michael Cohen pleads guilty. (source)

November 29, 2018: Massive raid at Deutsche Bank. (source)

November 29, 2018: FBI raids offices of Trump's former tax attorney, Chicago Alderman Ed Burke. (source)

December 4, 2018: Epstein trial set to begin. It is settled at the last minute, avoiding testimony from witnesses. (source)

December 13, 2018: FBI allegedly raids Chicago Alderman and former Trump tax attorney Ed Burke's office a second time (FBI neither confirms nor denies whether raid took place) (source).

December 22, 2018: Government shuts down. (source)

January 8, 2019: it's learned that Manafort passed polling data to Kilimnik in the summer of 2016. (source)

January 11, 2019: it's learned/reported that the FBI had opened a counter intelligence investigation into Trump in May of 2017. (source)

January 23, 2019: Michael Cohen postpones testimony before Congress, saying it's because Trump has been threatening him. (source)

January 25, 2019: Roger Stone arrested and indicted. (source) (source)

February 21, 2019: Judge rules that federal prosecutors (including Trump labor secretary Alex Acosta) broke the law in Epstein case. (source)

February 27, 2019: Michael Cohen testifies before Congress that Trump had directed him to threaten people as many as 500 times when he worked for him. (source) He also testifies that Felix Sater's office had been located on the 26th floor of Trump Tower - the same floor as Trump's office - and, in the location that would eventually become Cohen's office. (source)

And let's not forget the acid in Steve Bannon's bathroom: https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/bannons-vacated-florida-home-had-a-bathroom-destroyed-by-acid-washington-post-report-985356

Or how Michael Cohen threatened this reporter: https://twitter.com/cherijacobus/status/974831949285031936

Or the threats Stormy Daniels received: https://www.cnn.com/2018/03/25/politics/stormy-daniels-threat-60-minutes/index.html

A short history of Donald Trump's threats: https://www.propublica.org/article/a-short-history-of-threats-received-by-donald-trumps-opponents

#politics #donald trump #republicans #russia #money laundering #mobbed up #maria butina #ron paul #treason #traitors #tre45on #russian mafia #russian mob

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