#multipleoccupancy

@multipleoccupancy . Theo's family gets bigger

The Baudelaires had been in New York for a few days now, living in the house of their new guardian: Theodore Beneventi. New York reminded Violet of the town where she grew up, only bigger. Much, much bigger.

Mr. Beneventi, who had told them they could call him Theo, seemed like their most normal guardian so far. For starters, he was not afraid of turning on the stove, which was very nice, because it meant the Baudelaires could enjoy a warm meal for the first time in a few weeks. There were no snakes in the house either, which, to be fair, was to be expected. And of course, here, they were not ordered to do horribly long and difficult chores.

The other thing that differed from their last guardians, was that Theo already had a family. He had a wife, Andrea, two sons, and a baby daughter, who was already getting along great with Sunny.

Violet felt like their luck might have finally turned. Even the terrifying shadow of Count Olaf didn't seem as scary, considering that Theo was an FBI agent. She did not usually consider herself lucky, not since the terrible fire that had killed her parents, at least. But for the first time in months, she was feeling much more hopeful than usual.

And, it's with that noteworthy hopefulness that she left the room she shared with her siblings, and tip-toed to the kitchen. It was still early in the morning, but she was awake and craving a glass of milk.

@multipleoccupancy . a demon ruins everyone's day -again

Today was shaping up to be a great day. First of all, Fish got to accompany her dad on an exorcism, which was always exciting. Not only that, but Padre Lorenzo was coming too, even though it was only supposed to be a routine examination. She had convinced him, or more exactly, she had asked over and over again -with big puppy eyes and the promise of gelato.

She had spent most of the way there skipping happily and talking about which flavors she would get. Fish was certain she could stomach three whole scoops -one strawberry, one chocolate, and one pistachio. But as they approached the house, she straightened up. A child assisting an exorcist always made people frown, and she was careful to look serious. Internally, she was still thinking about gelato.

According to Padre Lorenzo, this was probably not even a real case of possession. Fish had learned that, most times, 'possessed' people were just struggling with mental health. Still, she knew better than to say anything while the grown-ups discussed, or when they were led to the room.

It was a small house, narrow and nestled between other buildings. The staircase creaked under their feet as they climbed the stairs. The corridor was already permeated with the smell of sweat and blood -a smell Fish knew very well now. The door to the room had chipped paint and a rusty doorknob, and it made a sound of complaint when it was opened.

Inside, a young woman was lying in a small bed. She looked terrible, her frail body shaken by a guttural cough. When they walked in, she sat up and smiled. Fish didn't like that smile. It sent shivers up her spine, and she unconsciously grabbed her father's hand.

Tinker, tinker. His hands couldn’t stop tinkering with things these days. Ever since he’s gotten them, thanks to Nate. Robert does lots of tinkering. Sitting at the workbench of Sturges Robert smirks a bit when he hears Nate behind him.

He sodders together a new water chip for a water purifier for the settlement. Because lord knows he’s not drinking tainted water. Before he sets the chip onto a small holder and sets Nate’s soddering gun down.

Fingertips black, he picks up a carton of cigarettes he had sitting on the table. An old habit he has repicked up. And god did he miss having lungs. Little things he took for granted. Finally he turns to Nate, swiveling on the chair a bit to face the General of the Minutemen, and his only friend these days. He did not take orders or get along well with Preston. But he would do whatever Nate told him.

The unlit cigarette remains between his lips, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows and his tie was tucked into his shirt to prevent it from dangling or getting in the way. A few black smudges have dared to taint his visage, but Robert is smiling, he’s been non stop working and enjoying having a body to use. And the only way he can thank Nate is to help him as he said he would. Still, even as he is slightly tainted with the grease and dirt from the work he is doing, he crosses one suited pant leg over the other and sits how he used too. Confident in his skin once again.

“Why I’d say I can always be convinced with a Nuka-Dark, or, the promise of technology.”

Robert smirks and waggles his brows a bit. He’s certainly been more jovial these days. Perhaps just because he was excited to have something to fix and to work on so many things once more. He didn’t have time to worry like Nate did. Though dark eyes do seem to enjoy the General and his stupid uniform in a similar fashion on how he would watch Cooper Howard films. Finding them stupidly attractive in their respective costumes. Him and his damn hero tropes he seemed to be fond of.

“Or….Let me have the Fat Man.”

Robert was still actually mad that there was a whole armory Nick Valentine has helped lock him out of for now. Which contains Robert’s prized possession and obsession. A glorious Fat Man. He just wants to blow some raiders up…Maybe some feral ghouls…Maybe Diamon City…No..No Not Diamond City…The Brotherhood ship? He shouldn’t let Nate know what he wants to do. He just craves it. And the fact that he isn’t allowed it only makes him want it more!

”What is it you want from me anyways today? Am I not doing enough for you Nate?”

Tired Sentences, Vol. 4

Mycroft did not know this man. That was a little strange as he knew the vast majority of the Diogenes Club's members - or, at least, he knew their faces and names - but it was not unheard of. The club had expanded a lot since it had first begun, and with that than expansion came the inability to keep track of absolutely everything . Mycroft simply didn't have the time.

He'd entered the Stranger's Room to find a book he knew to be sitting on one of the shelves. Of course, it was hardly an interesting book - exciting reads was something else that Mycroft no longer had time for - but it was one which contained some information that had suddenly become necessary and therefore was still of interest to him.

He hadn't been planning on paying the other man any heed. In fact, Mycroft hadn't even been planning on acknowledging his presence. Just because communication was allowed in the Stranger's Room didn't mean it was required, and he was far too tired to even consider a polite nod in silent greeting. Normally, he would have responded with little more than silent derision were a stranger to issue such a bold instruction to him, but clearly Mycroft was more exhausted than even he himself realised because he actually stopped when he was told to sit down.

"Pardon?"

The sheer audacity of it combined with the need for whatever rest he could get cut through Mycroft's typical well-maintained confidence and left him befuddled. Really, that was quite the achievement! The number of individuals who had managed it in the past could be counted on one hand, and none of them were people he didn't know. Thankfully, there was no one else present, as the reaction would have risked irreparable damage to his reputation were anyone he worked with in the room.

Another murder. Massacre, really. Before the murders had been one, maybe two victims- always found in some remote area, bodies mutilated beyond recognition to decipher where one ended and another began, spread across several metres of space in a field or other undeveloped area. The murders were far too spread out across a map to be excused as simple animal attacks, but the violence and damage being done by a human was inconcievable even to the most seasoned of detectives. First in Kentucky, then Tennessee, shooting up to West Virginia, Ohio. The most recent murder now was of four campers out on unincorporated forest outside of the Oregon/Washington- same modus operandi, same violence, but now across the country and harder to explain away as regional coincidence.

In actuality, Jain simply just wanted a change of scenery.

He stood just beyond the police line by the edge of the woods, seeing the crowd of reporters and onlookers alike among the various police and emergency vehicles. A couple meatwagons, no way to collect what was left of the bodies beyond glorified trashbags. Jain didn't need to follow the crowd to find the place- he knew it well enough. The smell alone of his leftovers had been enough to call him back. Unfortunately, before he would be granted at least a week or two of continued meals before the cops swooped in like starved ravens on his kill- this time Jain hardly had the time to pick the Gore-Tex material out from his teeth before the cops were on it. So much for changing the scene.

Putting on thebest act of shock and disgust on his face, Jain stood among the crowd and bit back bittersweet pride as his previous meals were scooped up and away. Thankfully it had been a good-sized meal, enough to last him until at least half a week before hunger gripped him again.

Second Meetings Sentences, Vol. 2

"Oh yeah? Well, you ain't too dull yourself, are you?"

Dallas had found himself a new drinking buddy. Historically speaking, this wasn't too unusual - he'd always enjoyed a strong drink and the atmosphere of a bustling bar - but in recent times, he'd found himself too busy to indulge in that particular vice. Between his work, his other work, his boyfriend, his mother, his recently found father and brother, his 'dog', and everything else in his life, there wasn't much time left for fun.

But very little time didn't mean no time at all, and having found himself with nothing else to do while back in Texas for his assigned month off, he'd drifted into one of the local dive bars. Jesse was aware at a horse auction, visiting hours were over at his mother's nursing home, and Nibbles had been fed earlier in the day, so what else did he have to do other than spend some time drinking with friends?

Only, his friends were also busy, hence the need to find new people to talk to. That hadn't been a particularly difficult goal to achieve, of course; Dallas was an excessively talkative guy with too much confidence for his own good - he had no issues at all wandering into a new place and striking up conversation.

Mind you, what exactly he'd been talking about was a bit of a blur now. As they so often did, words had tumbled out of his mouth like a waterfall, and he'd gone from horses, to Texas, to D.C, to his new suit, to the quality of bars in the capital, to God only knew what. It must have been somewhat entertaining, at least, otherwise the guy he was talking to wouldn't be calling him interesting!

"Let me get the next round," Dallas offered, fishing a handful of notes out of his wallet and learning over the bar. "What d'you want, uh-"

It suddenly hit him that he wasn't sure what this guy's name was.

Hughie lost count of how many times the car rolled until it came to its final, shuddering stop. There was scarcely a breath left in Hughie's chest. By some small miracle, the car had landed upright. The seatbelt kept Hughie lashed to the seat and was part of the reason his lungs couldn't expand.