#bc like yeah he manages to turn the serial killer away from serial killing but they still killed like a Metric Fuck Ton of People

[bonetrousledbones]

who is your most moral/righteous au guy? and alternatively, who is your most immoral au guy?

well for reasons i cant get into just yet i can very confidently say Sludge is definitely the most immoral guy, that thing will get past even the Papyrus Effect of making ppl like him just u wait

as for the most MORAL.,, hmm! that’s surprisingly difficult to answer! my first instinct is to say Stretch, the pacifist who actively avoids fighting at any turn, but that’s not necessarily out of any moral obligation! he just really hates conflict! HOWEVER, he’ll hardly ever try to stop others like say, Edge or Russ, from getting into a fight unless he can tell that it would cause problems for everyone. He’s got a strong moral code for himself, but when it comes to the people he hangs around he just kinda stands back. Hence, why he is friends with LV 14 Edge and only feels a Little weird about it

Fluff, funnily enough, is probably the one who sticks to his morals the absolute hardest. If he thinks someone did a shitty thing, he won’t just stick back and try to move past it like Stretch or Russ, he’ll make sure they know just how much they royally fucked up. Granted, he’s not exactly a shining example of a golden heart either, and he knows that, making him pretty neutral on a moral standpoint I think

[wreckofawriter]

Jelly Slugs

Pairing: Harry Potter x reader

Word Count: 2,278

Warnings: Swearing, a little angsty, still plenty of fluff

Song to Set the Vibe: broken ~ lovelytheband

Request: @mcluuvin666 hi could i request a harry potterxreader in which the reader & harry always seem to find each other in the hospital wing at the end of each year because of harry’s adventures & somehow she always ends up hurt in a funny/ironic way even though it wasn’t her intention to get caught in their messes if that makes sense? either way harry & the reader get really close throughout years of ending up in the hospital wing w the reader being frustrated w the trio bc they’re the “reason” why she’s hurt and she’s just kinda like “you lot are going to be the death of me” but harry and reader end up going out anyway. lots of fluff and maybe angst if you can? thank you so much!!

A/n: Once agian so sorry this took so long! It may not be completely edited, excuse typos, I wrote litteratly all of it tonight. I'm trying to burn through my requets, if u sent one I got it I'm just waiting to get to it

    At eleven years old you had already had far too many near-death experiences, for you that meant one. You hadn’t meant to do anything at all, well except grab some snacks from the kitchen after hours, but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before. On your way back your ears had picked up a sweet symphony and you had grown curious. 

Turning a few unfamiliar corners you found the room, its heavy door ajar. You pushed it all the way open, a pastry still stuffed in your mouth preventing you from screaming. A large three-headed beast lay in front of you snoring loudly. Before you could turn and run your eyes found a small wooden trap door at its feet. The phrase your mother often scolded you with echoed in your head, Curiosity killed the cat. You about turned on your heel but then the ending of the saying learned from an equally mischievous classmate came to you, But satisfaction brought it back. 

You dropped the food in your hands and walked hesitantly towards the large dog. You then quietly opened the door, cringing as its hinges squeaked and peered inside being met with complete darkness. You were going to close the door retrieve your treats then head back to your dorm but as you turned you met a pair of brilliantly green eyes and you let out a yelp before stumbling backward and plunging into the hole with a scream. You were soon followed by three of your classmates almost as confused as you were. 

You ended up getting your arm broken by a giant chess piece on your way to retrieve something you didn’t fully understand and what you believed to be a curse began. 

You sat up in a cold sweat the image of a white stone queen drawing her sword waking you with a start. You rubbed your eyes only to find your left arm in a sling and aching a bit.

“Oh, good you’re awake.”

You turned to your right to see a little boy in round glasses smiling at you. “What happened last night?” you asked eyes wide.

“It’s a long story, but I suppose we have time.” He shrugged, “Jelly slug?” he offered holding out a colorfully wrapped package. 

“Yes please.”

Second year began as normal as it should have but it was soon strange and dangerous, pearlized classmates and strict rules making the school feel less and less like a home. Of course, your luck being about as bad as it got, you where the last victim of the basilisk. 

You had been polishing trophies to serve detention which you got for supposedly bad-mouthing Snape although it wasn’t your fault Draco was a filthy snitch. You then saw a large pair of yellow eyes in the shining metal and everything went dark.

You woke up four days later body aching eyes feeling extremely dry as you blinked vigorously. You had a strange sense of deja vu as the hospital wing soon came into view. Head once again thumping as you tried to recall your memories. 

“Oh right, you're here.”

You turned your head to the right to see a wide smile, green eyes hidden behind round glasses as cuts riddled the boy’s face. 

“Merlin Harry, what happened to you?” You gasped taking in his battered form. 

He shrugged, “I fought Voldemort.”

You cringed at the name but said nothing of it to him, “Again?” 

He laughed, “Yeah, this time it hurt more though.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” You grinned at him.

His cheeks reddened a bit, “Yeah, I’m glad you’re okay too.” 

You fell into an uncomfortable silence before Harry reached to his bedside table and offered you a tissue-wrapped box, “Jelly Slug?” 

You nodded taking it from him

Third-year had been downright dreadful for you. You were finally a teenager which basically meant everything that had been easy and quick now seemed to take hours and far too much thought. Every little thing you did you were sure would be scrutinized, it didn’t help when a close friend of yours spread a nasty rumor about you and you found yourself skipping classes and opting to stay in bed. A serial killer being on the loose certainly didn’t help. 

The only sort of decent thing that happened was your friendship with Harry, after two times of healing in the hospital wing together you decided to be at least acquaintances. You held study sessions with the boy and occasionally his two best friends although all they did was bicker.  

You also happened to be outside reading when a rat lept on you and dove down your shirt leading to you being dragged into a tree by a dog who turned out to be a serial killer who turned out to be Harry’s godfather. But to be honest you didn’t really care.

You were absolutely livid, your leg was torn apart and for the third time in a row you had somehow been shoved into an adventure you most certainly didn’t want to take part in and you were bleeding heavily because of it. 

Oh yes, how could you forget? You were also almost killed by your professor, who had turned into a werewolf just in time to almost kill you again. 

When you woke up in the hospital wing with the golden trio surrounding you, you weren’t so pleasant.

A string of foul curse words, pointing fingers and yelling was shot at the three teens who apologized profusely insisting they did not mean to get you caught up in their business. 

You eventually calmed down and found out it wasn’t all that bad considering you got to see the suddenly very attractive dark-haired boy who made a point to spend all of his free time in the hospital wing with you as your leg healed. You shared a large amount of jelly slugs as you read muggle books and did your best to stay on top of studies.

Fourth year was much better than the last. You and Harry spent more and more time together and you felt a large crush on the boy who lived growing. Hermione knew about it instantly and Ron seemed adamant to tease both of you just for the joy of watching your faces flush. But good things never lasted.

You had a heart attack when Harry’s name came out of the goblet and found yourself taking his side in a sudden war between him and Ron. The bitch of a journalist Rita Skita also plastered you and Harry’s face all over the daily prophet when she caught you hugging him before his first task. You went with Harry to the ball although to both of your disappointment only as friends. And you ended up comforting Hermione in the hallway anyway. 

You also were almost drowned by your sorry excuse for teachers in the second task. Never one to back down from a fight you yelled directly at Dumbledor and Karkaroff saying how if your name wasn’t pulled out of that idiotic goblet than you shouldn’t have to almost die for the even more idiotic tournament. Of course, you did this with a very colorful vocabulary that landed you three weeks of detention. 

When Harry pulled Cedric from the maze you had cheered clapping along with the band until suddenly you heard the boy wail like a wounded animal. You raced down to meet him and helped pull him off of the elder boy’s body.

He was shaking the entire time and when you finally managed to drag him away he buried his head into your neck and sobbed. 

Harry was then dragged away by Mad-Eye and you were quick to follow, bursting in on the two just as Moody no longer became Moody. 

“Harry!” You yelled diving at the quickly transforming man who was holding him at wand point. 

Your body suddenly erupted in such harsh pain you thought you might throw up. 

“Y/n!” Harry’s yells fell on deaf ears as the unforgivable curse took all of your attention. 

By the time Harry was able to disarm the man, you had passed out from the pain. 

You woke up in the hospital wing three days later a disheveled Harry seated in a chair next to you his arms folded on your bed his head resting on them. 

When you tapped his shoulder lightly he jolted awake immediately engulfing you in his embrace sobbing out apologies as you pushed yourself closer into his chest. 

“I’m so so sorry y/n, I never meant for you to be caught up in any of this.” He choked out pulling away from you and cupping your face in his hands. 

“It’s okay Harry, I’m okay.” You spoke smiling weakly feeling extremely exhausted. 

“But he used an unforgivable cu-” 

“I don’t care, I’m just happy you’re okay.” You interrupted leaning into the soft circles his thumb was drawing on your cheek.

Harry’s eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion and suddenly his lips were on your own. 

The second they connected he backed away blushing so heavily you were sure he was hot to the touch.

“I’m so sorry y/n, I don’t know what I was thinking and I-”

You only shook your head and wrapped your hands around his neck bringing his lips back to yours. His hands ended up on either side of you as you leaned back down on the bed bringing him with you. He hovered over you, your tongue slipping into his mouth as you played with the ends of his hair. He tasted overly sugary with a hint of fruit, just like a jelly slug.

You were interrupted by a cough followed by a low chuckle and Harry immediately pulled away from you and you turned to see not only your headmaster but Professor McGonagal and Madame Pomfrey all staring at you. 

Your eyes went wide and you felt so hot you thought you might catch the sheets on fire. You stole a glance at Harry who had paled dramatically, looking sick. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better y/n.” Dumbledore chortled. 

You hissed in at the pain that shot through your ankle. Your head had also begun to pound causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and attempt to relieve the pressure by pressing onto your temples. Fuck Umbridge. You hopped that bitch was dead, as your eyes began to adjust to the sudden brightness of your surroundings you saw an all to a familiar sight. The hospital wing had become your home away from home and now in fifth year you, it made sense you ended up there once again. 

When your psychotic headmaster dragged you, your boyfriend and your two best friends out to the forbidden forest as she was attacked by a giant she managed to hit you with some sort of spell which effectively left you in your current state. Harry who was seated beside you wrapped his arms around your waist and placed a kiss on your neck.

“You okay?” He asked he seemed stressed, then again when wasn’t he?

“I’m fine.” You lied with a smile pushing his glasses back up his nose. 

“I think you should stay here y/n/n, I can’t have you getting hurt.”  He frowned. You then took notice of the group of teenagers was behind him. They were clearly about to leave. 

“I think history has proven that kind of unavoidable at this point.” You sighed standing up and drinking whatever was on your nightstand, it turned out to be a pain medicine that tasted the equivalent of dragon piss. 

“Y/n...” Harry spoke hesitantly.

You turned to look at your boyfriend, your face set in stone. “If you don’t take me with you I will find another way to that building.” 

Harry sighed biting down on his lip, “Fine. Alright, guys, let’s go.”

Your lips twitched into a smile just as you were about to leave the room you noticed a small half-empty bag on the table next to your bed, you stuffed it into your pocket and ran after the group you had fallen behind. 

You sat silently eyelids feeling so heavy you thought they might close at any moment. Your entire body ached, your headache coming back stronger than ever, but you didn't let onto your pain. 

Harry had his head buried into your stomach as you combed through his messy hair, his sobs were the only sound in the massive black room. Sand was scattered around you as you clung to your boyfriend your back up against a black glass wall as you stared blankly ahead of you. Dumbledore stood a few feet away, seeming almost as lost as you were. Part of you hated him for putting Harry through everything he had just been through, but you knew it wasn’t his fault. 

Harry adjusted himself so his head was buried into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist. The movement caused something in your pocket to crinkle, catching your attention. 

You reached into your robe and removed a half-empty bag of candy. You smiled in spite of yourself. 

You tapped Harry on the shoulder whispering his name. He looked up at you his eyes rimmed in red, his face blotchy, the sight made your heart throb.

“Jelly Slug?” You asked your voice cracking.

The boy let out a mix between a laugh and a sob before lightly placing his lips onto your own. He tastes salty and bitter, like tears and blood. You found yourself wishing you were elven again when everything was simple, wishing that Harry still tasted like jelly slugs. 

Taglist:

(Realizing I forgot this last fic I posted, my bad)

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

Masterlist

[andoqin]

Mouse Ep 1

What is it with kdramas and needing to have plot elements in episode one that are fucking ludicrous.

So the structure of this episode is all over the place, we kind of jump backwards and forwards with no rhyme or reason and while it’s still manageable in terms of watchability it does feel herky jerky and makes the plot a bit hard to follow. 

I don’t know much about how South Korea does (or used to do) decisions on approving laws, especially laws that infringe on human rights, but the basic premise of the show seems to be that most psychopaths share the same gene which turns them into psychopaths (research on that is inconclusive as of yet, yes there is a genetic component but as to how far it influences us, there is nothing certain yet). Like, one of the main characters in the first ep is a scientist (up for a Nobel!) who figured this stuff out and has a test that gives you a 99% accuracy as to whether your child is going to be the next Ed Kemper/Charles Manson/Ted Bundy. 

I mean ... yeah... okay. So anyway he gets called to SK because of a string of serial murders and presents his findings to a small committee? of eight parliament members (I’m presuming), spouts his 99% accuracy test findings, but the 1% left over means that they might be a genius instead bc he also can’t tell the difference between psychopath and genius (which strikes me as a hilarious contradiction) and the committee votes on whether to force abortions on pregnant women where fetal dna testing points to the fetus having this kind of gene. The drama even points out that South Korea has banned abortions normally! So we’re right in eugenics-landia from the get go. 

The committee deciding as to whether they SHOULD ADOPT THIS LAW!!!! is split 4-4 (hilariously accurate to me though is the fact that there’s like 10 men in the room and one woman, that tracks) and the tie breaking voter votes against it, because his wife just got pregnant (as he reveals in a later scene) and then he gets told "you stole your baby's right to live in a world without crime or wars" by another woman. 

Anyway that’s not even the most ludicrous portion of this episode. 

That happens when a 5 (6 at most) year old child witnesses his family’s murder, which his slightly older brother barely survives, gets taken to a hospital, SEES THE MURDERER ON A POSTER IN THE HOSPITAL, NABS A SCALPEL, STOWS INTO THE POLICECAR ON THE WAY TO THE SUSPECTS HOUSE (they gotta go there bc one of the officers’ daughters was taken), AND TRIES TO STAB THE MURDERER!!! I repeat, this is a 5 year old child who just had pretty much the most traumatic experience that could happen to anyone. Good god, no wonder the serial killer got away with it so long the police are fucking inept. And then they FIND THE KIDS’ MOTHER’S HEAD IN A SNOWMAN (which is only revealed because of the stabbing attempt). I... what?????????

And then the police is forced to let him go bc... the court doesnt believe the witness (the kid i guess) and apparently they believe the hilarious excuse that the murderer says “oh idk how those snowmen got there, i didn’t build them”. Only for the (heavily pregnant DUN DUN DUUUN) wife of the murderer to go “here’s a fucking polaroid of you building the snowmen you asshole”. 

OH AND!!! our nobel nominated doctor is/used to be besties with serial killer, so when he tests the wife and the test comes back positive, she is distraught and wants to abort immediately, but she’s in her last trimester, so it’s a no go. 

And then to set up the plot we have another woman whose fetus tested positively but she doesn’t want to abort, bc her child is what she has left of her late husband and he could never hurt a fly (nvm the fact that it’s much more likely that she is the carrier of this gene, but that’s not science the drama is interested in). 

We then see a kid 5 and 10 years later clearly with APD issues (but also suffering from abuse at home?) and he’s killing animals, tries to murder his brother for tattling on him and gets strangled by a woman yelling “i never should have given birth to you” (but we dont see which woman it is). 

Why do dramas do this? Do better. 

[slashiest-slasher]

How would the slashers act with a s/o that came hone drunk and just wanted to ya know... have some 'fun'?

i’m sorry i wrote most of this months ago while drunk, and finishing it up just now equally as drunk ﾍ(ﾟ∇ﾟﾍ) enjoy!

Michael Myers (1978 'verse)

- When you go out without telling Michael where, he usually worries thinks you're going to rat on him. But you've just worked your way into his hear enough that he's stopped stalking you everywhere you go.

- But when you finally manage to find your way home, he doesn't expect you to fumble with your keys and slam the front door open. He was watching TV when you did, and while Michael doesn't get startled, he did whip his head a bit quicker.

- He just manages to catch sight of you stumbling in, and catching yourself before you faceplant on hardwood floor. "MIKEY~ I'M HOOOOME~" you bellow out and make your way to the couch.

- Oh boy.

- Michael doesn't react when you plop yourself down in his lap, wrap your arms around his neck, and clumsily attempt to press your lips to his mask. Normally, Michael has a rather voracious sexual appetite. But you're sloppy, and uncoordinated and smell like beer. It's disgusting, and Michael is the kind of guy who eats dog carcasses.

- So instead he pushes you down onto the couch, and pulls down the blanket from the back of the couch. Every attempt of yours to climb back on him is met with being pushed back down while he watched TV.

Jason Voorhees

- Jason is in a similar-ish boat where he has just begun trusting you to leave without flipping out and thinking you're running away. So yeah, he isn't a fan when you tell him you're going for a few drinks at the pub in town.

- Yeah, few drinks his fucking ass. You come back 2 hours later than you intended, stumbling out of some guys jeep, and trip just past the entrance of the camp. You just... lay there, in the dirt. If your back wasn't rising and falling, he'd think you were dead.

- He still panics, because he's Jason. What else is he supposed to do other than kill teens? He runs and hauls your body over his shoulder, and back to the cabin. And our boy built like a brick house, jumps when you start groping his ass.

- "Jaaaason, I need you to fuck me, like right now," you slur out when he dumps you on the bed. Yeeeaaahhh, no, not happening. Not now, not ever when you've been drinking. He can hardly tolerate anyone consuming alcohol, and mixing sex in? What would mother think of him?

- One sin at a time, as you always say.

- He still lays in bed with you, because he's tired and it's his bed too! Even if you try getting him to have sex with you, is a Stone Wall, and will not allow anything to happen until you eventually pass out from exhaustion.

NSFW bellow cut, because c'mon, theyre serial killers

Thomas Hewitt

- Drunk people? At his house? Color Thomas shocked (not). Please he lives with Holt, who drinks pretty much every hour of every day. He can scarcely think of a time when he wasn't drunk. But hey, if the two of you were going off to drink and fish (a past-time you forced Holt into liking) then whatever, he has work to do. He'll just wait until you get back to demand your attention.

- When you and Holt manage to pull up in front of the house without crashing the truck into a tree, he's content. Neither of you seem dead, and you also have a cooler full of fish. A refreshing change from human. Holt stumbles to the front door, as per usual, but you're barely hanging off his shoulder, dragging the cooler behind you.

- Oh No. Thomas Is Not Happy.

- He didn't care if you drank, at all. He didn't even care if you got drunk. Everyone, even Luda Mae drank at the house, so it wasn't a problem. But you can barely walk, and pretty wasted people and Holt don't mix. So Thomas sweeps you up to his room as soon as possible.

- Despite being drunk, you're pretty damn strong. Enough so to pull Thomas down on top of yourself when you land on the bed. You get him nice and settled between your legs and pet the back of his head. "Well heelloooo handsome," you murmur. "You here to show me a good time?"

- Thomas, and rightfully so, freezes. You two have barely just gotten to hand holding stage, and now here you are: flushed, disheveled, and practically asking him to fuck you. Thomas breathes heavily behind his mask, and can't help but grind against you. You're too irresistible.

- But he won't go any further than dry humping until both of you are satisfied. Luda Mae, after all, raised a proper southern gentleman (or her version of one at the very least), so having sex when you two aren't married, or when you haven't consented, would be awfully rude of him. But he is Horny, and you are Horny, and what's a little grinding until he cums in his pants?

Freddy Kruger

- You? Drinking? What is this, torture time featuring the hot person who is the only one who Freddy seem unable, or unwilling, to kill? You're killin him, Smalls.

- Seriously, you're hot as hell to Freddy, and since you're alive and not some demon that haunts everyone's nightmares, you can do everything Freddy can't. You can drink, you can fuck, you can eat, and it drive him mad! So when you're getting sloshed, Freddy is getting more riled up. He can only get dream wasted, which is nowhere near the same.

- So he bides his time until you pass the fuck out and end up in dreamland. But lo and behold, you just polished off an entire fifth of whisky by yourself, so you're still trashed. Even while you're asleep and dreaming of yourself getting plowed by Freddy.

- Fucking jackpot. Freddy knew there was a reason he liked you. So he doesn't really do anything at first, just kind of goes invisible and watched while your version of him has got you on your back, legs over his shoulders, and making you moan like some kind of porn star. He'd like to be all up in there, but watching you go at it is kind of hot?

Brahms Heelshire (bc he is MY BOY; also dubcon warning bc the reader is drunk and cant properly consent)

- Okay so Brahms is kind of in the same boat as Jason where he as literally just got around to trusting you to leave without worrying that you were going to abandon him. Except it took a lot longer for him. You are allowed to go out to the pub for TWO HOURS with Malcolm, but that's it.

- (If Brahms wasn't so adverse to leaving the house he would've gone with you so you would've kiss Malcolm)

- But you're an HOUR late, and he's about to start breaking shit until he sees you stumbling up the road to the manor. Singing. LOUDLY. If Brahms wasn't so wound up he'd find it endearing.

- As soon as he throws the door open to yell at you, you pretty much topple on top of him, and try getting his shirt off. "Braaahms, you're sooo hot. What did I do to deserve someone like you?"

- Oh damn.

- Oh damn.

- You hit two of his major turn ons at once. And since Brahmsy is a feral little man with no manners, he just pins you to the floor, gets your pants off, and starts finger banging you right then and then. He wastes no time before shoving himself in. He's gotta take you right here, with the cold wind blowing in.

- Boy is practically shaking from how much you got him riled up in such a short time. He really does try to savor in the sight of you sprawled underneath him, face red, and unable to hide your moans.

- For once, you cum before him, and that's what has him cumming. Your O face is one of the hottest things to him. And you both pass out, just right there in front of the open door. At least when you wake up five hours later, moderately sober and in need of a piss, you manage to herd him upstairs and into bed.

[lifblogs]

#SPNDBCC | Hunting | @foundfamily4eva

READ ON AO3

“Well, that’ll be our missing girl,” Jody commented, referring to the dead body in front of her and Sam.

Sam grimaced, and then took a step closer.

The body itself was tied to a tree with a thin, but strong, wire around the neck, and the head had been bashed in. The throat had been slit as well. The body had slumped, legs having gone limp, and the head hung forward at a disturbing angle. Blood was everywhere.

He leaned down, examining the head.

“The skull’s cracked,” he noticed.

“Any brain matter?”

He winced. “Yeah.”

She stepped forward now, going to examine the body. She covered her mouth and nose as she leaned in. As sheriff she probably didn’t see as many bodies as forensics did, though Sam knew she liked to get out in the field, especially when it came to hunting.

“This poor girl,” Jody commented. “Someone really wanted her dead. You seen anything like this before, Sam?”

“I was actually going to ask you the same thing.”

Jody just lifted her head and stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

“What? This is your jurisdiction,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but we don’t find dead bodies that look like a serial killer got to them” she argued. She shook her head, and started trekking up the grassy hill. “I gotta call this in.”

Sam searched around the area, looking for hex bags, or anything, testing for EMF. He found nothing, except for a footprint. It was small, probably from a woman.

Jody finished calling a forensics team and a few deputies, and Sam said, “Hey, I think I found something!”

She went back over to him, and Sam pointed out the footprint that was behind the tree.

“So not a ghost,” she said.

“Yeah, they can’t leave that kind of mark.”

“Could we be looking at a person?”

Sam grimaced, and turned to the dead body again. “Maybe.”

~~~

Research. Always research. Sam was having a difficult time with it because he truly hadn’t seen this before. Throat slashed, strangled, head bashed in… It felt like a new kind of messed up, especially since the killer could be a human.

He wondered which wound had killed the girl. All three of them could’ve done the job.

For now, Jody was at the sheriff’s station, searching through case files from before her appointment as sheriff. She’d call him if she found anything.

Sam sat at the rickety table in his motel room, laptop out in front of him. He had a multitude of links open, and at the moment, he was digging deep, using a search engine that wouldn’t alert anyone or be saved on the laptop’s history. Besides, it wasn’t as if Google would give him answers about someone getting violently murdered.

He didn’t have any ideas either. What could this thing even be?

“Human,” he muttered to himself. “Human…”

Could be a sacrifice.

With that in mind, he was able to make his research a little more specific. It took an hour, least, but he managed to find something. It wasn’t much, just a picture tucked away in an online copy of a very old book, a description underneath.

Sam frowned, examining the picture again. The renderings weren’t realistic, of course, having come from a time where the art styles were still being figured out. It was before the Renaissance. The book itself was at least a century old, so Sam wasn’t sure he trusted the source.

He searched the description attached to the image.

His phone started ringing.

“Hello,” he answered after hitting the green arrow and putting the phone to his ear.

“Sam, I found something.”

“I think I did too. You first.”

“So there were deaths like these fifty years ago.”

“Crap, that long?”

“And aside from that, there hasn’t been anything else. There were nine like it, all victims killed in the same way. Of course, the records aren’t as detailed as they would’ve been now, but it’s something. Could we be dealing with a copy cat killer?”

Sam shook his head, bewildered. “It would’ve had to be someone who knew about all this. I kind of doubt it.”

“Alright, what’d you find?”

“So I couldn’t find anything at first,” he explained, going back to the image. “But it looks like we’re dealing with a sacrifice.” Sam thought he could hear Jody wince on the other end of the phone. “Yeah,” he commented. “Um… I’m gonna hit the library, see what I can find.”

“I’ll look into public records.”

“Good idea. Reconvene in an hour?”

“It’s a date.”

Sam smiled, loving that he was working with Jody on this despite the horrors they were dealing with. It had been way too long since he’d seen Jody. Besides, he’d needed to get out. Dean and Castiel were dealing with the Mark, and Sam, who always felt anxious and just a little terrified around his brother now, had desperately needed something to drag him away from all that.

He grabbed his laptop, and his notes, and stuffed them into a satchel, and then he was on his way.

~~~

The first thing Jody did was search through the list of names she’d gotten from the old police file.

“Carter O’Connell,” she mused as she stood on a ladder and dug through a set of old files. She found the manilla folder with his information. There wouldn’t be much since this was before computer records, but it was worth something. It’d have his full name, age, family members, social security number, address, and history of work.

She climbed off the ladder, and brought the file with her. She went to look at the archival cards. The cabinets that stored them were a dark brown, and covered in dust. She blew the dust away, quickly leaning back to avoid breathing it in.

Jody put the file she’d found on top, and started searching.

“Ha!” she cried, as she found where the next previous victim’s file could be found. 

It was annoying that she had to do this, but she’d already looked through the file of the girl they’d found, and she couldn’t find anything of note. But maybe with more information she and Sam could make some sort of connection.

Jody went to go get the next file.

~~~

At the library, after taking a lot of books out that led to more books due to the information he found and wrote down, Sam ended up looking at a small shelf in the mythology section. The book he grabbed now was on Celtic mythology, druids and sacrifice.

As he read he realized that druids had committed some human sacrifices, except it had been rare. Searching through the index led him to a part of the thick book on beings called daraich. Sam found the page, right near the end of the book, and started to read.

He frowned as he read.

According to historical evidence, there was a subset of druids known as the daraich (singular: darach). The word druid translates to “knower of the oak,” or “wise oak.” Darach itself does not have a disturbing meaning at the present date, though for centuries it translated to “dark oak,” with the prefix of the word “da-” meaning “dark.”

Sam immediately took notes, underlining the word “DARACH” and then writing underneath it, “dark druid.” The text hadn��t specifically said that, but “wise oak,” being turned into “dark oak” was all the information he needed.

He searched through the book some more, and stopped on a disturbing artist’s rendition of the ritual sacrifice. It wasn’t exact, though the tapestry that the picture in the book was of showed the same injuries as the ones they’d found on that girl. Bruises around the neck from strangulation, blood leaking from the head, and blood coming from the throat.

The description underneath the image described that the dark druids would commit violent sacrifices in order to gain power.

This led Sam to reading the entire page.

While the deaths themselves were thought to grant power as someone’s lifeblood was spilled out, the word “sacrifice” in primary sources suggests that it was an offering to a deity. “Sacrifice,” when looking at the Latin translation as sacrificium, means, “Something of meaning offered up to a deity.” This is relevant due to the many definitions of sacrifice pointing to a relationship between the person committing the sacrifice, and the deity, along with the Roman invasion of Celtic territories at around 1000 BC.

The druids themselves did commit human sacrifices during their Iron Age, but the acts were later condemned. Instead, they would offer up animals, weapons, and food. Due to the nature of druidism having a close connection to the natural energies of the life of the earth, the deities were thought to be in the spirit of the world itself. More specifically, lakes, and trees, and growing things.

This belief falls to the wayside as deities are accepted as beings rather than things or places.

To understand the sacrifices, one must first understand the nature of the Celtic beliefs. Possibly as early as the year 500 BC, the celts believed in sacred beings that could walk the earth, or inhabited what was known as the “Otherworld.” The sacrifice of life was attributed to a triad of these beings, a triad of sacrificial entities: Taranis, Esus, and Toutatis. These were deities of strength and power. Sacrificing to them was thought to create strength in the person committing the sacrifices.

Primarily, the sacrifices were animals, with the druidic idea that the blood would please these gods. Yet when the subset of dark druids came into being, these sacrifices turned gory, with the sacrificial victims being humans. Supposedly, the human sacrifices granted greater strength, and even powers from the Otherworld. Typically, these sacrifices would be committed preceding a war, or a battle. With the creation of the daraich (plural form of the word “darach”), to appease the triad of deities they most closely worshipped and were thought to communicate with, victims were sacrificed with what is called a threefold death. Early accounts describe this as victims being slaughtered violently, the three actions taken against them each having the ability to kill them.

Accounts of the deaths committed by the daraich describe the threefold death to this triad of deities. Evidence from an early translation: “The head must be struck, the throat pierced [slashed or cut], and the breaths must be taken.” This last act suggests strangulation. Victims of this sacrificial ritual would be found with three wounds that could have each been the cause of death: the head bashed in, throat cut, and strangulation, typically done with a garotte.

The druids condemned these acts and sought to—

Sam stopped reading. He’d been steadily taken notes as he’d done so, and now he looked at what he’d compiled, satisfied.

He called Jody.

~~~

Jody sat at a table, the files around her. She was beginning to find a connection the the old victims. They all had had some position of authority. A police officer, teachers, parents, soldiers, even a government official. Perhaps the connection was weak, but it was the only one she could find.

Her phone started ringing, and she answered. “Yep.”

“We’re dealing with a darach,” Sam said, forgoing a greeting.

“A what?”

“A darach. It translates to ‘dark oak,’ and was a subset of druids. The meaning of druid is ‘wise oak,’ so a dark oak—”

“Is a dark druid,” Jody finished.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“So they sacrifice people?” she asked.

“Yes, committing what was known as the threefold death.”

Jody sat and thought. “So that’s what we’re looking at here. All the files I dug up described the deaths as the same, and that poor girl we found…” She shook her head. “Sam, how do we even deal with this? And why would someone do that?”

“Usually the daraich would do this predating a battle.”

“But there’s no battle coming up.”

“There could be,” Sam said. “Who do we know of that’s becoming violent and might turn into a demon again?”

“Shit, that could be related?”

“We’ve run into other creatures who have tried to protect themselves from more powerful beings in the past.”

Jody sighed, taking this information in. Then, she informed Sam, “I found a connection between the victims. All authority figures.”

“Wait, then what about the girl?”

“After asking around, I found out that she was a babysitter. I didn’t think it was important at the time, but—”

“She had power over someone.”

“Exactly. Sam, how do we kill this thing?”

There was pause, and then Sam cleared his throat, explaining, “We have to burn them.”

“Huh, thought it’d be harder.”

“Daraich have powers.”

And… there it was. “Fuck.”

Sam heaved in a breath, and let it out, sounding frustrated, and maybe a little worried. “Yeah.”

Jody’s walkie blinked with a red light, and Jody said, “Hold on, Sam. I gotta go.”

“Come in, Sheriff Mills. Come in. Over.”

She pressed the button to allow herself to talk. “Standby. Go ahead. Over.”

“We got a 187 over here. Over.”

“Say again?” Jody asked, standing. She hadn’t realized there would be another victim so soon.

“187. Body mutilated. Over.”

“Roger that. Where’s the body? Over.”

Jody was given the location. “Affirmative. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Over and out.”

Immediately, she called Sam, “Sam, we got another one.”

~~~

When they got to the crime scene, there were already had a few deputies there, and forensics were showing up to swarm the place, doing their job with vigorous detail.

Sam felt sick as he looked at the body.

“Do we know who it is?” he asked Jody.

“Used to babysit him as a kid,” she let him know. “Heard that he moved back here, and became a high school teacher after college.” Jody was teary-eyed as she looked at Sam. “I don’t want to see any more of my people killed. What do we do?”

“I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

Sam frowned, and then winced. He ran a hand through his hair, and then over his face. He let out a frustrated, and discontented growl.

“Sam, tell me.”

Sam heaved in a deep breath, and then said, voice rough as it came out, “How do you feel about being bait?”

~~~

Rain poured down on Jody, and she raised her hands to grip at the cord that had gone around her neck, securing her to the oak tree, even as it strangled her.

She kicked feebly. The cord cut through her hands. A choked out cry left her, and then she tried to gasp in air. It wouldn’t come in.

Sam. Where was Sam?

He’ll be here. He has to be.

“Your friend won’t be coming,” the darach murmured, the voice of a woman.

No. No.

Jody wanted to ask why, but she couldn’t get air in. Was this how she was going to die?

~~~

Sam groaned, his head aching and throbbing fiercely. Blood had trickled into his right eye, and had nearly made its way inside his air. The cut on his injured head was large, and the blood had even soaked into his air. The darach had hit him with a rock, and now it was all coming back to him.

Rain was cleaning the blood off, even while it soaked Sam all the way down to his skin.

He got up, nearly slipped in the mud, and then leaned against a tree.

“Jody…” he rasped.

Dizzy, he picked up the flamethrower he had with him, and then started to run, slipping a great deal on the wet ground, to where they’d left Jody as bait.

He slid down a hill, having thrown himself down it on his back, giving up on walking down that; he would’ve fallen. Sam clambered to his feet once at the bottom, and he blinked blood out of his eyes.

There she was, tied to that tree with the very weapon being used to kill her.

“Hey!” Sam cried.

The darach hissed in some kind of frustration, and then it released the garotte.

Jody gasped, and coughed, but then collapsed to the ground, mud splattering on her cheek.

She didn’t get up. But he knew she was alive. Just unconscious.

Sam came forward as the darach stepped towards him, and he raised the flamethrower. He could barely see in the dark, but he was sure that shadow was the darach raising its hand. A fierce pain took hold of Sam’s body, even as a choking, poisoned wind swept towards him and into his lungs. It went through his throat, his nose, even as his body felt like his bones were splintering.

Sam fell, screaming in agony.

Fight through it, Sam. Fight it.

Jody groaned and shifted on the ground, and the darach turned its power on her. She screamed herself into unconsciousness.

Sam trembled, body in shock as it remembered the pain, but he clambered to his feet, and he ran, putting himself nearly right in front of the darach.

“Say hi to your gods for me, bitch,” he said, pressing the trigger on the flamethrower.

The darach’s screams and wails as it went up in flames were high-pitched, seeming to pierce his eardrums. Sam didn’t let up until it fell to the ground, its body a charred crisp.

He breathed hard, and almost fell, still hurting from his head. He turned, and saw Jody trying to move again. He went to her, getting on his knees.

“Did you do it?” she croaked out.

He held her, and she held him. Was that blood from her palms seeping into his jacket?

“Yeah, I did it,” he assured. “All thanks to you.”

“Glad you could recognize my hard work.”

Sam clapped her on the back, and pulled her closer. “Anytime, Jody.”

He helped her up, and together they stumbled out of the woods, Jody kicking the body of the darach for good measure as they passed it. They made it to the Impala, then to Sioux Falls General Hospital. As they sat in the waiting room, Sam with a hand on Jody’s knee that she was bouncing up and down, she looked at him, and smiled.

“I’m really glad we were able to save people from dying,” she told him.

“Hey, it’s part of the job.”

She leaned into him, as a mother would a child, and Sam grinned despite how out of it he felt and how much he hurt.

“And it feels damn good.”

“It sure as hell does.”

[whoree321]

Bike Lessons (s.r.)

Request: i was wondering if you could write a spencer reid x reader where instead of him getting shot, him and the reader are on a date, riding their bikes and spencer is learning or sumn (bc i kinda get the feeling that he didn’t as a kid), and they are in the park, and spencer looses control and ends up falling with the reader, and you know, he dislocates his knee and the reader her shoulder ( :’D ), and idk maybe emily, penelope, or hotch could be i’m the park at the same time talking to morgan or idk in the phone and they’re like “hold on, some idiot just fell. let me check if they r okay.” and they go and it’s spencer n the reader?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, really. Minor bike accident, dislocated shoulder and knee but nothing described too graphically.

Word Count: 1.6k

Category: Fluff

---------------------------

“What do you mean you don’t know how to ride a bike!?”

Spencer Reid was many things, but a proud man he was not. Years of school bullying had been combatted by more years of relentless, loving teasing from his coworkers and closest friends, and resulted in a man who could take criticism and jokes at his expense rather well. That did not, however, do anything to stop the burning shame he felt at his girlfriend’s revelation about his biking abilities.

He gave her a sheepish grin before replying, “It’s not that I don’t know how to ride a bike, necessarily. When I was in college, biking was my primary form of transportation as the state of Nevada wouldn’t issue me a license at 14. But I haven’t ridden a bike in almost 15 years. You know, despite the common saying that you never forget how to ride a bike due to muscle memory, studies have shown that…”

As much as she would have loved to listen to what studies had to say about the longevity of muscle memory, Y/N had more pressing information to gather.

Interrupting him, she asked, “So you learned how to ride a bike, you just don’t think you remember how to since it’s been so long?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying”

Y/N nodded, a plan for the day quickly forming in her mind.

“Alright,” she said decidedly, “well, good news! Today you’re gonna learn again!”, a cheery grin overtaking her face.

Spencer groaned and hung his head. This was so not how he wanted to spend his rare day off with his beautiful girlfriend. They were always off on gruesome cases, too weary and focused to truly enjoy each other’s company. He had hoped for a calm day inside, maybe read or binge one of their favorite shows and just be with each other. But he recognized that gleam in Y/N’s eyes, could practically feel the excitement radiating off of her, and he knew he’d never in a million years be able to say no and risk being the reason that bright smile faded.

Looking back up, he replied resignedly, “Fine. But I get to choose dinner tonight.”

“Deal!”, she squealed, leaping off the couch and bounding to their shared bedroom.

Laughing lightly at his girlfriend’s childish antics, he got up and followed her, watching as she dug around through her drawers for a pair of leggings. Soon, they were both dressed in casual athletic wear and made their way to a bike rental kiosk that Y/N had found near the park.

Walking their newly rented bikes to the trail, Y/N glanced over at Spencer to see him anxiously chewing on his lip. She could tell he was nervous, probably not wanting to embarrass himself in front of her, but she thought that once he got the hang of it he would really like it, and it would be another activity the two could enjoy together. Smiling at the idea, she stopped once they had gotten to the trail and put the kickstand of her bike down.

“Ok, why don’t you just get on and do your best to ride it like you remember doing before. I know your big ole brain is still storing that info,” Y/N said with smile. Spencer looked between her and the bike a little uncertainly, before she gently added, “I’ll walk next to you just in case things go south.”

This convinced him, and he tentatively got on the bike and started pedaling. His balance was a little off at first, and she could tell that his hand-eye coordination (or lack thereof) was always going to be an issue, but he got the hang of it rather quickly.

“Ok, I think I got it! You can stop walking next to me now, I think there might be one or two people left in park that haven’t seen a grown man being taught to ride a bike like a child,” Spencer told her teasingly, though the triumphant look in his eyes told her how happy he was at catching on with minimal difficulty.

Y/N giggled at his remark. “Ok hot shot, lets take a lap around the park and see if you’re still so cocky.”

The two rode down the trail nearly side by side, Y/N slightly ahead of him but close enough that they could still talk. They made their way smoothly, chatting and laughing, but the peace was not to last.

Looking back at it later, Spencer concluded that it was entirely that damn squirrel’s fault. If that squirrel hadn’t run out onto the sidewalk, he would not have violently swerved into the back wheel of Y/N’s bike, causing them both to lose their balance and harshly crash to the ground, a tangled mess of bike and limbs.

To make matters worse, their misfortune was not without witness. As luck would have it, the BAU’s resident tech genius Penelope Garcia happened to be on an uncharacteristic trip to the park, stuck on a picnic date that that was currently going from bad to worse.

“Derek, I am telling you, this guy is bad, I mean capital B-A-D bad, and not in the good way. He spent 25 minutes telling me about the benefits of intermittent fasting! Fasting, Derek! I couldn’t fast if my life depended on it! I mean, don’t get me wrong I totally respect people that fast for religious reasons, oh my goodness I mean those people are so strong and dedicated I couldn’t imagine doing that! But to fast for literally no reason at all and brag about it on a date!”

Morgan chuckled on the other line. “Where is he now, sweetness?”

“He saw some guys that he knew playing frisbee and went to go say hi and he joined their game and that was like 10 minutes ago. So not only is this guy the most boring conversationalist ever, he’s just straight up rude! I mean, could you imagine taking a girl out on a date and- oh my gosh, these two people just got into a bike accident over on the hiking trail! Oh wow, that did not look pleasant, I would hate to be those two idiots right now.”

Watching the fallen bikers slowly start to move, Garcia gasped as she recognized the brown curly head and the Y/H/C ponytail sticking up from the crash.

“Oh my goodness, Derek I have to go, those are our idiots!”, she exclaimed as she hung up and ran over to her coworkers.

“Reid? Y/L/N? Are you guys ok!? I saw you fall down, are you hurt!?”

Y/N groaned as she sat upright, her shoulder sharply aching. “Penelope, what are you doing here?”, she asked.

Penelope huffed before she answered, “I’m hopefully escaping the worst date in the history of dates, now yes or no, are you ok?”.

“Yeah, Pen, I’m fine, I think I busted my shoulder a little though. Spence, how about you?”, Y/N asked, directing her attention to her grimacing boyfriend.

“I’m ok. That stupid squirrel got in my way and I didn’t want to hit it, I’m sorry,” he replied sheepishly, staring guiltily at Y/N as she attempted to assess the damage to her shoulder.

Garcia helped the pair stand up, and Spencer nearly collapsed again once he put weight on his left leg. Gasping in pain, he looked down to see his knee bent at an angle that could not have been right.

Averting her gaze from his clearly dislocated knee, Garcia helped steady him before declaring, “I need to take you two to a hospital because clearly neither of you are actually fine.”

The two agreed, following Garcia to her car and getting into her backseat. Spencer kept his eyes trained on his hands, guilt at hurting Y/N ailing him far more than his searing knee. He finally looked at her, however, when she reached over and grabbed his hand. Flashing him that dazzling smile from earlier, she leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Maybe you should have let me walk next to you a little longer,” she offered with a wink, eliciting a chuckle from her boyfriend that warmed her heart.

*DAYS LATER*

“Wait, wait, wait, so you’re telling me that the two of you manage to hunt serial killers generally unscathed for a living, but Pretty Boy here tries to learn how to ride a bike and you walk away with a dislocated shoulder and knee?”, Derek Morgan teased as he watched his two friends enter the bullpen, clad in their respective braces and Spencer hobbling on his crutches.

“Oh I could just kill Garcia! I told her the story she was supposed to tell you all was that we got injured stopping the mob from robbing a bank,” Y/N replied dejectedly.

“Sorry kitty cat, I just happened to be on the phone with her when it happened,” he explained bemusedly.

“Besides, Y/N/N, it’s pretty unrealistic that any mob would be robbing a bank in broad daylight, and statistically improbable that we would just so happen to walk into it and be capable of stopping it,” Spencer chimed in cheekily, knowing how much his logical debunking of her story would rile her up.

Y/N glared at him before answering. “You know what, I’m glad the squirrel did this to you. I might have been collateral damage, but you deserved it.” She sat at her desk, but not without giving him a small glance and playful grin to let him know she was joking.

Spencer simply rolled his eyes and took a seat at his own desk, although he couldn’t help but feel pretty good about how things had turned out. He may have been bested by a squirrel and a bike, but he would get to spend the next few weeks on desk duty with his favorite person. And Y/N would probably never make him ride a bike again.

It definitely turned out pretty good.

[steviemae]

not a superhero // bc

requested by anonymous: hii! could I request a Betty Cooper imagine where the reader is worried about Betty as she keeps getting involved with the black hood etc and worries about her a lot and they argue about it and soon make up ? 💓

You ran as fast as you could inside the Sheriff’s station. Betty had called you telling you what had happened with her and Archie and how Mr. Sfenson was the black hood and all of the gorey details. You were worried out of your mind.

“Oh my god, Betty!” you called when you saw her all covered in dirt, looking distraught, “i’m so happy you’re okay. Your call scared me.” you pulled her into the tightest hug you could manage.

“I’m fine. But could i stay at your house tonight?” she asked when you pulled away.

“Of course.” you smoothed some of her baby hairs back, her always perfect ponytail a little messy from the nights events. You grabbed her hand and lead her out to your car, both of you getting in. As you drove, Betty began telling you everything that happened and all of her theories behind the black hood.

“I don’t think Mr. Sfenson was the black hood. I think he was a decoy to make me think he was, but the black hood is still out there.” she rambled. You were scared, for her and yourself. You felt like Betty was slowly losing her mind and you couldn’t bare the thought of that happening. You cared about her too much to see that happen.

You pulled up at your house, both you and Betty getting out and walking inside. You sighed as you took your coat off, tossing it on the back of the couch and slipped your shoes off.

“What’s wrong?” Betty asked from behind you.

“Nothing, i’m just worried about you Betty. I think you’re going a bit overboard with this whole black hood stuff and i get that he’s targeting you but i really think you should let the police do their jobs.” you ranted a little trying to keep your voice as soft as possible.

“They aren’t doing their jobs. That’s the problem.” she sassed.

“Because you won’t let them. If you gave all of this information to them, then maybe they’d be able to catch him but you don’t tell anyone but your friends and then go off investigating yourself. You do understand that he’s a serial killer, right? You’re chasing after a killer who more than likely wants to kill you too. I’m terrified for you, Betty.”

“I can handle whatever this asshole throws at me.” she snapped, growing more and more angry.

“I know you can, but you don’t have to. I don’t know what i’d do if anything happened to you and i worry about you whenever we’re not together. I just care about you too much to sit and watch you drive yourself mad trying to figure out who this guys is.” you stepped forward taking her hands in yours.

“I have to do this! If i don’t more people will die.” she snatched her hands from yours raising her voice a little.

“I get that this whole town thinks they need you, but what about me, huh? What if i need you?” you yelled as your eyes filled with tears, “i need you here, Betty. I can’t let you run around trying to save a town that thinks she’s their superhero. I’m worried about you and scared about everything that could possibly happen. I just don’t want you to end up like them.”

“y/n? Is everything okay, dear?” your mom asked groggily as she walked downstairs.

“Yeah, mom. Everything is fine. Um, Betty’s gonna stay the night. We were just heading to bed.” you told her kissing her cheek as you past her on the stairs. Betty followed behind you, bidding your mom goodnight as she headed to your room.

“y/n, i didn’t -”

“Don’t. Let’s just go to bed.” you cut her off, throwing her some clothes to change into after you changed into your pajamas. You climbed into bed, facing your back to Betty and turning out the light. Neither of you said a word to each other the rest of the night.

When you woke up the next morning, Betty was gone. She left a note saying she went home and that was it. You got out of bed, getting ready for school still kind of angry about last night but also still very worried about Betty.

At school, Betty was avoiding you though you weren’t going out of your way to talk to her either. Veronica had said that Betty told her everything that happened last night and she was on your side, which made Betty mad.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to her but the deeper she gets in all of this, the more of a risk there is and i just can’t sit here and watch her do that to herself.” you ranted.

--

Over the course of the next week, you didn’t really speak to Betty much. She was still avoiding you because of the argument the two of you had about her involvement with the black hood. You decided that you didn’t want bad blood between the two of you and you didn’t want to lose her over a  stupid argument, so you made the first move in sorting things out between you guys.

“Can we talk?” you asked when you met her at her locker.

“Have more stuff you want to yell at me for?” she snapped.

“No, but if you’re not going to listen to me then nevermind. You obviously still don’t understand why i’m so upset about your situation in the first place. So forget i asked.” you turned to walk away. Jughead had whispered to Betty, scolding her for being so mean. Betty ran down the hall to catch up with you.

“Let’s go to the blue and gold and talk.” she said when she caught up to you. You nodded and followed her into the room, letting her shut the door behind you.

“Look, i will admit that i went about that conversation the wrong way, but i am worried about you, Betty. This isn’t something a teenager should have to go through and you shouldn’t have to do any of the things he’s making you do. I still stand by letting the police do their jobs and you taking all of this to them will help.” you started.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have reacted the way i did to you just expressing your worry.” You crossed the room to stand in front of her and pull her into a hug.

“Can we never fight again. I hated seeing you avoid me in the hallway.” you mumbled.

“Never again.” the two of you held each other in a tight hug until the bell rang making the two of you separate and head to class.

[feelinomni]

Trail of knives

The sound of her blood dripping is like music to me. Drip… Drip. it's echo resonating across the empty apartment. A symphony of drips, drops, and echos. Her name was Michelle Ruby. She was a detective in the NYPD, a good one too, almost caught that school shooter. Her Manhattan apartment sits bloodstained and empty now.

I open my duffel bag and remove my hunter’s knife from it, the familiar handlebar feels comfortable in my hand. After running through the procedure in my head, I remind myself that my objective is to conceal her identity. Now I have only two teeth left to work on. I hear a creak and the sound of keys clinking together. Poking my head out the door, I see the door ajar and muddy footprints leading to the kitchen. Uh oh.

Dropping the hunting knife on the floor, I zip up the duffel bag and quickly, but silently make my way to the window in the back of the apartment. Opening the window I look down, it's about a one-story drop. Looking back I can see that their shadow is approaching the room with the body. I drop the duffel bag below and look up for a second. The cool night breeze brushes up against my face. Gathering all my will, I crawl out of the window and begin my descent. It isn't that hard to climb down, I just need to avoid windows.

I drop down to the ground after my ¨perilous” climb and start looking for my duffel bag. From my view at the window, it should´ve landed somewhere near these bushes. Ah, there it is. Grabbing it I begin my way towards the safehouse.

___________

¨ The victim's name was Michelle Ruby,” the autopsy tech stated eagerly, “stabbed in the spine, the knife was found at the scene, still bloody. Andrews dusted for prints, belonged to an Amanda Logan. ¨

¨Alright, thank you, Mr. Powell.¨ I acknowledged, still flipping through the case file, ¨anything else?¨

¨Yes, the vic`s mandible and all the teeth were removed.¨ he added, adjusting his lab coat, ¨thank you agent Mackenzie.¨

¨No problem.¨ I concluded. Walking out of the room.

Okay, so the prints found at this scene are the same as the ones found at the other scenes. The other scenes also had the same style as this one, except at the others the knife was in the victim's eye socket. Something must´ve spooked her. I'll talk to the victim`s daughter, see if she knows anything.

“So, Grace. What time did you get home?¨ I inquired, leaning forward.

¨Around midnight, um I was with my friends and we were watching a movie. After that I went to pick up some chips and dip, then I came home, put them in the kitchen and went to find my mom,¨ she managed. ¨then...then I..¨ she added, her eyes brimming with tears.

¨ That is all I need, thank you for your time, and I´m very sorry for your loss.¨ I concluded.

___________

That was close. I shouldn't have left the knife behind.

This safehouse is the definition of redneck. Stuffed heads of deer, wolves, and various fauna lined the wood log walls. You would think that a hunter with a southern accent would walk in and ask, ¨whats cookin,¨ with an animal carcass slung across his shoulder.

That isn't who walks in though. To be exact, the ones who walk in are twenty officers with guns, twelve fully armed FBI men, one detective, and a partridge in a pear tree. Literally. They have a bomb labeled, ¨partridge in a pear tree.¨ Five bucks say that I can´t get out of this.

They are taking me to the main FBI building, for a ¨proper investigation,¨ which means they are going to get ahold on every piece of ID, DNA, and prints they can get without killing me, interview me, and then lock me in a high-security prison with a plush cat for the rest of my days.

I have been sitting in this interrogation room for three hours, thirty-two minutes, and forty seconds accordion to the clock above the one-way glass, where some agent is looking at me. May as well entertain them.

_______________

Why is she making faces at me? This woman is wanted in all fifty states, under two names in a few. In fifteen years she will sit in the electric chair and be shocked to death, and yet she is smiling at me. No wonder the other agents on her case say she is insane. Three and a half hours is enough time to stew. Time to interview, hey, that rhymes!

“You were found in a safe house less than a mile from the scene where your prints were on the hunter's knife that killed Michelle ruby, a detective in the NYPD.” I accused, “Michelle Ruby also fit the general description of all of your past victims, she was slaughtered in a similar fashion as all of your past victims. We have all the evidence we need, if you confess, it’ll look better and you might get a slightly reduced sentence.”

“No. No, I won’t confess,” Amanda states firmly, “because if I do I will leave this building in a prison outfit and shackles, if I don’t, then I will leave either in a body bag or a free woman.”

“ Oh, and how will you leave this building a ‘free woman’?” I sarcastically inquired, using air quotes.

“ With your help of course, silly!” She giggled, “also I have about twenty agents working for me in this building, two of them are in that room behind you.”

“ Sure, and how exactly do you know that?”

“Because, they showed themselves about four minutes ago, also this interview isn’t being filmed.”

“Oh.” I finished. So, if this isn’t filmed, and what she said is true, then screw it, she's cute, and the system is corrupted anyway. “How do you want to get out of here?”

“You have access to all the floors in this building. Correct?” she asked

“Yes,” I replied

“Good. To get out of this building we need to first get to the back entrance, from where we need to commandeer a van, meander around the city until every corner of it has seen the car we steal,” she instructed. “can you do that?”

“Yes, I’m Louise by the way.”

“Alright Louise lets go,” she added with a smile.

__________________

Holy guacamole she is pretty. And she is joining me in the serial killer business. Awesome! Still, we need to actually escape. Let’s do this. Opening the door she holds my hands behind my back and pushes me through the hall to the elevator, once we got to the elevator and the door closed…

“ This elevator will take us to the second floor, from here we’ll take the emergency exit stairs to the back entrance” she updated, loosening her grip on my wrists.

“Okay, do you have a van lined up?” I asked, turning around to face her.

“Yes,” she responded, “ I talked to my buddy in equipment, he has one lined up for us.”

“Okay,” I concluded turning around and putting my hands behind my back.

Amanda takes them and we turn to face the door. Walking out a man bumps into us, he is on my side, but Louise doesn’t know that.

“Agent, where are you going?” he inquires.

“The suspect has to be taken to a high-security prison ASAP,” Louise replied sharply

“I can take her off your hands if you want?” he pressed

“No, I am the primary on this case, I will do it.” Louise insisted. I shook my head at him, letting him know he can leave it alone.

“Alright,” he sighed, admitting defeat and walking away.

With the exit right in front of us, we make a beam line towards it, pushing through people as fast as we can. Finally, we reach the exit. Opening the door we step outside to see a van waiting for us.

She guides me towards the door and opens it for me, I climb in. the van is covered in FBI logos, merchandise, and fake weaponry. Sure. totally discreet. Oh well, better than nothing.

“Is this thirty-sixth street?” Louise asked me impatiently.

“No, this is thirty-fifth, the next one is thirty-sixth,” I informed, leaning back in my seat and putting my feet up on the dash.

“Why do have to go through the whole city?” Louise asked

“ So the cameras have a hard time tracking our route,” I reminded her, “ and after this, we head for the border, Towards British Columbia.”

“Alright.”

____________

“Psst, hey! We’re here, we’re at the border!” I whisper-shouted to Amanda, who lay sleeping in the passenger seat.

“Huh, what?” she asked groggily, sitting up in her seat

“We’re here, we’re at the border,” I repeated, leaning over towards Amanda.

“Oh, okay, I’ll get the fake passports,” she stated absentmindedly, ruffling through the duffel bag.

“You brought fake passports?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

So it turns out that Canada is huge. Getting from Ontario to Manitoba took an entire day. Only stopping for gas and bathroom breaks. At least the other states, no, provinces are smaller.

We finally made it. The safehouse in BC. the entire trip from the Ontario borders to this safehouse took three.freaking.days, I don’t think I’ll ever sit down again.

____________

Louise and I have lived here for six months, we are settled in and have become bored. I think its time to start choosing a victim with her.

“So I was thinking, Tamera Kelly, forty-three years old, blonde, dirty cop.” I proposed, showing Louise a picture.

“How about Monica Jones, thirty-two, brunette, convicted felon” she offered, handing the file back to me.

“How about those jerks that wouldn’t stop playing their horrible rap music at the gas station in Winnipeg?” I suggested jokingly.

“Actually yeah, that would be nice,” she affirmed

“I’ll get my gun, you grab the garbage bags and the bleach?” I offered

“Sure. don’t forget the knives and ammo too.” she reminded

“Will do. Meet back in twenty?”

“Yep.”