the perils of everybody

What was Colette’s mission?

In “The Penultimate Peril”, the three Freaks from Caligari Carnival encounter the Baudelaires orphans on three separate occasions. Each of them witness Violet, Klaus and Sunny commit an act of dubious morality. And each of them, as Olaf later points out in his confrontation with Dewey, works out a part of the (alledged) plan to bring the sugar bowl to the laundry room of Hotel Denouement. Their mission can be summarized thusly:

  • Hugo disguised himself as an attendant to cater to Carmelita’s and Esme’s needs while they looked at the sky, searching for special delivery crows from the fire-fighting side of the Schism,
  • Kevin disguised himself as a washerwoman washerperson to lurk around the basement, where the sugar bowl was expected to drop,
  • Colette disguised herself as a chemist because…

…well, that’s a good point, actually. Why a chemist? It seems a bit random, in comparison to her two colleagues who are disguised as Hotel Denouement employees and would as such monitor VFD activities more discreetly. Or maybe Colette was needed to perform actual chemistry? Let’s try to work out the secret assignement Olaf and Esme gave her after the cut.

NOTE TO READERS: This article relies on several elements of our theory regarding Justice Strauss. We recommend you read it before delving into this one.

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Not in the bestiaries.

Or mostly, mermaid!Dean. Because of this AU prompt list. Also because pathsofpassion told me to. Sort of.


“But whaling, Cas,” Gabriel wheedled, as they cast the net out.

Castiel didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just gave his brother a Look.

“Harpoons!” Gabriel went on, cheerfully ignoring the Look. “A whole flotilla of guys, battling God’s mightiest fishes together! Tails the size of houses slamming down into the water, shattering boats and limbs, but not ours because God loves us and you’re too much of a spoilsport to steer close in! Victory, and the sharks going wild for us, and riches from the lords at the monastery to last us a month! And girls, brother dearest, don’t forget the girls.”

“I hadn’t forgotten them,” Castiel said mildly. “You mentioned them two minutes ago. I don’t think Jo appreciated it.”

“Jo never appreciates me.”

“Damn right,” said that lady, up at the tiller. “Maybe if you noticed I’m actually a girl sometime—”

“You’re not a girl,” said Gabriel, with dubious gallantry, tying off his end of the net. “You’re an angel. An angel in fine breeches. Girls need wooing. You need terrified supplicants.”

“I have three knives.”

“You know I’m right. Cas, I’m right aren’t I?”

“Gabriel,” Castiel sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t gabber on while we’re casting. The net’s caught over something again.”

Gabriel leaned precariously over the side and poked at the tangle of strands where they vanished, taut and quivering, into the water. His sharp eyes crinkled at the edges as he squinted into the bubbly green depths.

“Not caught over, little bro. Something’s caught in.”

“We only just threw it,” Castiel objected, but not very hard, because now he could feel it too. Years of knowing the song of the ropes, and even of the timbers under his knees when the boat had weight behind her. There was something tangled down there: not a school of fish, but a single living creature. And—

The boat lurched.

Whatever it was, it was big. And it was strong. And it was fighting.

“You had to tempt the sea,” Castiel grumbled, as they hauled, and strained, and grunted, and the little boat tipped perilously backward.

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I first started using social media when I was 12 or something – not publicly, I had private accounts – but even since then people have been pretending to be me, and my brother. It’s so annoying. It’s super weird.” What does she do to combat it?The only thing I can do is let people know that is not me. My biggest fear is people reading something or seeing something on one of those fake accounts and thinking that came out of my mouth, when it didn’t. I am very specific about what I put out on social media about myself. But that’s also why I like social media, because it feels like the only thing that I have to control my own image. Everybody is going to say whatever the fuck they are going to say about me – and it is like this for everybody.“ Lily goes onto to explain the perils of being on social media. "I would be much less stressed out without social media. I am constantly afraid of getting hacked. It’s like being afraid of stepping on glass.
—  lily rose Depp for Love magazine
Can we even get a satisfying EW photo shoot?

So after seeing excited and wishful posts about a possible Richonne-centric photo shoot, reality started to sink in for me.  Because so many of our characters’ fate is left up in the air, the only four “main” people that aren’t spoiled for survival are Rick, Carl, Carol and Morgan.  Rick and Carl, due to the fact Negan is talking to Rick as he Lucille’s someone, but also threatens Carl if he does anything while bashing someone. And Carol and Morgan because they aren’t there. So covers and articles are typical in the fact, they highlight and talk about what to expect for the upcoming season.  How is that gonna work, when 75% of the cast is in peril?  Does everybody have to do a preface to the interview with “IF” my character is around, and go on to say nothing because any info would be spoilery?  So can my wish of a Richonne cover still happen if they are trying to get me to believe Michonne lives?  Of course I KNOW the answer is she is going to live, duh.  But the fact their relationship can’t be celebrated without this dark cloud hanging over their heads, and they can’t talk about their future, pisses me off. But they still have to play the game, for the GA, and in general.  What do you guys think?

(movie continuity, but HS modern AU)

“This is all your fault,” Illya says.

Napoleon sits down atop the toilet seat lid. “My fault?” he says. “She’s your sister.”

Illya turns to the door and slams a fist against the wood. “Gaby!” he shouts, followed by a string of Russian words that roughly translate to “let us out” and something unprintable. Napoleon stifles a snigger. It’s because of Illya that he even knows what they mean.

“Not until you two talk things out!” comes the reply in a throaty treble. Gaby’s only thirteen, but she talks (and sometimes acts) like a world-weary chain-smoker.

“So tell me again, Peril.” The nickname stuck during a history class unit on the Cold War. “How exactly is this my fault?”

“You ran into bathroom.”

“You were trying to beat my head in!”

“You had it coming.” Illya crosses his arms and pouts like a sulky toddler. Napoleon desperately wishes he didn’t find that pose so attractive. Illya’s good looks might kill him before he graduates.

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