99 Episode Challenge by Koohii Kappu
Summary: A response to the 99 Episode Challenge by Freakshow. 99 episodes titles from various shows, 99 one-shot chapters, all different themes, genres, characters, etc. Hope you enjoy! Rated T because some will definitely have darker themes. Oh, there MAY be spoilers, but I'm not 100% sure of that. Anyway, if there are ever any spoilers, I'll put a warning in the chapter notes before the fic, so if you're not done with the show PLEASE READ THE CHAPTER NOTES FIRST! Thank you! :)
Categories: Pre-season, Season, Post-season, Alternate Universe, Short Characters: Buzz, Gus, Henry, Jack Spencer, Juliet, Lassiter, Shawn
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Crack!, Drama, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Suspense
Warnings: Character Death
Challenges: 99 Episode Challenge
Challenges: 99 Episode Challenge
Series: None
Chapters: 8 Completed: No Word count: 6168 Read: 6688 Published: March 04, 2017 Updated: July 27, 2017

1. All In by Koohii Kappu

2. Riding the Lightning by Koohii Kappu

3. Masterpiece by Koohii Kappu

4. One Shot, One Kill by Koohii Kappu

5. Words and Deeds by Koohii Kappu

6. One Day, One Room by Koohii Kappu

7. Broken Bird by Koohii Kappu

8. Endgame by Koohii Kappu

All In by Koohii Kappu
Author's Notes:
This is a response to the 99 Episode Challenge by Freakshow. The challenge is to write a fic in which you use a list of real episode titles, picked out by Freakshow, as chapter titles. I can use as few or as many as I want and they can be in any order. I'm making them into a series of one-shots, and hopefully by the end, I'll have 99 of them! ^^ I'll be writing them as the urges come and go, so there isn't a set time to post or a steady flow of chapters or anything. This is more like a side project for me when I can't think of anything else to write or I'm not in the mood for a long thing. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Oh, God. Jules.

"Every now and then, your luck just runs cold. You'll turn over the cards and groan - but you don't let it show on your face."

Heart twisting, Shawn stared at the gun that was pointed directly at his girlfriend. Stomach churning with nerves, he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and somehow managed to pull off a seemingly effortless grin as he took a tentative step closer to the crazed man on the other end of the barrel.

"I don't think you want to do that," Shawn warned. He could feel Juliet giving him a glance that probably resulted in a mixture of surprise, fear and 'what's the idiot doing?'.

"Why not?" The man's mouth twisted into a devilish frown that made Shawn's heart skip another beat.

"You'll have nothing; no cards, no luck, no friends. When that happens, your only option is to lie."

"Because I've already called in backup, and my Blue Heeler friends won't be too happy if there's any more damage." Every word felt thicker on Shawn's tongue, but the man hesitated.

"I don't believe you," he eventually growled.

"Talk. Bluff your way out. Make people think they should be scared of you. If they believe they have a reason to be afraid of you, it might make them slip."

"I don't need them to kick your butt anyway. I can do it myself," Shawn continued, taking another step forward. The man backed up a little, alarm flashing in his eyes.

"Stay where you are or the girl dies!" The gun snapped back to Juliet, who involuntarily squeaked. Shawn froze in place, but didn't stop speaking.

"I've learned a lot by working with the police," he continued with a dry chuckle. "You think I don't know how to deal with a basic situation like this? I could take you out with a rubber band and a pair of dice. Oh, and a bit of pineapple. For me, not you, obviously."

"Are you poking fun at me or just an idiot?" the man hissed.

"I'm dead serious," Shawn replied, his face stone cold. "If you hurt her, I solemnly swear that I will kill you."

The threat dropped into the air like a stone. The man's eyes darted from Juliet's terrified face to Shawn's frozen one, finger shaking on the trigger. Shawn held his breath, waiting, hoping, not daring to let it go -

"Do you know what?" the man growled. "I think that's a load of crap."

And he pulled the trigger.

It was like everything was happening in slow motion - he could see the bullet launch towards Juliet's heart, watched her face change ever so slowly as she registered what was happening. Shawn didn't hear her scream. He didn't feel himself move. He only remembered his last thought: I can't lose Juliet.

"There's always a risk involved with the game, Shawn. Either you win and keep your savings . . . or you lose everything. Every round holds the danger of losing, but sometimes you have to sacrifice what you have to earn a little more. The question is, what are you willing to sacrifice?"

Suddenly, without any thought or consent on his part, Shawn was on the floor, a blooming red flower of blood on his shirt. He didn't feel any pain, just emptiness. He heard vague noises as though he was listening through a long, far tunnel, and he felt a spark of concern for Juliet. There was a lot of buzzing - so much buzzing - and something wet - was someone crying? He tried to call out, but a metallic taste filled his mouth and destroyed the words on his tongue.

As darkness crowded into his vision like a pack of hungry wolves, Shawn saw his Uncle Jack's face smiling at him from the depths of his memory and heard his voice echo in his brain -

"Do you understand, Shawn?" Uncle Jack flipped the deck of cards from one hand to the other in a perfect arch. Shawn looked at the cards in his hand again, his face completely still. Wrapping his arms around the huge pile of chips he'd already won, he shoved them into the middle of the table and grinned.

"All in."
Riding the Lightning by Koohii Kappu
Author's Notes:
A/N: This is an AU Western crack!fic for you guys. I had so much fun writing it, especially since I've never written a Western before. Having all the characters in Old West mode was just pure gold XD Lassie hasn't changed at all, though. He's really the same both ways . . . Oh well. I hope you enjoy! ^^

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Note: Please read in southern accent! :D
Everything changed the day that stranger rode into town. He took our calm, peaceful settlement and flipped it over on its head faster than a rattlesnake poppin' it's teeth out for breakfast. We don't take well to strangers here, not since them squirrels. So when he walked into the bar all tall and dark and jumped into the seat next to mine like he owned the place, naturally I gave him a my best cold glare.

"Hello, little lady. What's your name?" He grinned, completely unfazed by the ferocious look I was giving him. I did my best to remain as icy as possible, although I may have melted . . . just a tiny bit.

"I ain't tellin' no stranger my name less he tells me his first," I fought back, but he just clicked his tongue.

"Trust issues. You've got a bad history with your dad or something?" My face must've looked awfully funny, because he suddenly started chuckling hysterically. "I'm Shawn. Don't look so scared, my brilliant mind reading powers won't hurt you," he joked lightly. I felt my face start to burn, completely unnerved by his attitude and the fact that he'd somehow known about my father.

"I think you owe me a name," he reminded pointedly. I scowled.

"Juliet," I shot back, trying to show that he wasn't going to get under my skin.

"Glad to meet your acquaintance, Juliet." He smiled, and I can't explain why, but I started feelin' all strange inside, almost sick but . . . in a good way. I frowned and turned my head, grumbling. Maybe he had more black magic than just knowin' things he shouldn't.

"What brings you in here, anyway?" the bartender, Henry, interjected. I was secretly grateful for the interruption. However, the stranger - Shawn, now - shuddered as his smile disappeared.

"Raccoons," he whispered.

"What was that, now?" Henry frowned. I looked up at Shawn, embarrassment forgotten.

"Raccoons," he said, a little stronger this time. "They're the most deadly, vicious, evil little gang you'll ever meet. Their eyes shine bright yellow like the sun and they can see in the dark. Little demons, wearing those masks all the time . . . They almost ripped my face off," he said, nodding solemnly. Henry huffed, obviously not buying it. I didn't quite believe it either, to be honest.

"I'm sure they did," he said, but his voice was heavy with sarcasm. Apparently missing the tone in his voice, Shawn only nodded.

"Now, I don't let people lollygaggle in my place without somethin' to do, so are you gonna buy a drink or not?"

"I'd do anything for a pineapple smoothie right about now." Shawn grinned.

"Now see here," the bartender growled, leaning over the counter. "I've had enough of your stories and made up words. Now do ya want somethin' real or are you just gonna keep askin' for fantasy drinks?"

Shawn blinked, clearly confused. "You don't serve pineapple smoothies?"

"Last time I checked, I only served real drinks."

"You've never heard of a pineapple," his voice went flat. "Never. Heard. Of. Pineapple."

'Listen, are you going to order something or not?! 'Cause I swear if you ask for that drink again I'm gonna throw you out faster than your parents rejecting you into the wild."

"Alright, alright!" He threw up his hands in surrender. "I'll take mango if I absolutely have to."

"That does it!" Henry slammed his fist down on the counter and Shawn jumped back a little, confused surprise so pure on his face it was almost comical. Both of 'em started fightin' and shoutin' as Henry shoved Shawn out the door, tellin' him to get out. Shawn tried to stand up for himself, clearly still confused, and he fell back into the outdoors he gave me this puppy-dog look of confusion that said 'what'd I do wrong?'.

I sighed and followed them out, curious to see the outcome. Things were just startin' to get heated when I spotted my big brother stomping across the dust.

"What in the sam hill is goin' on out here?" he roared. Henry and Shawn immediately split, sufficiently scolded.

"This stranger callin' himself Shawn was fillin' my place with straight lies," Henry spat. I saw Shawn open his mouth to protest but my brother interrupted him.

"That true, Juliet?"

I shrugged. "He started talkin' about a gang called the Raccoons. Sounded pretty dangerous, but he might've been spinnin' tales. Henry got really mad when he asked for some kind o' drink we'd never heard of . . . what was it again?"

"A pineapple smoothie," Shawn chimed. "By the way, Jules, you'll have to remind me to introduce pineapples to the town when this is all over-"

"What'd you call my sister?" Lassiter growled. Shawn looked surprised.

"Oh, Jules? It's just a nickname. Wait . . . you two are siblings?" He stared at us, openly shocked. "You look nothing alike!"

I said, "he's adopted," and the exact same time Lassiter said "she's adopted". We stared at each other for a minute. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Shawn's face contorting into more confusion, if that was even possible.

"I'm Carlton, the sheriff of this town," my brother started. I rolled my eyes, knowing what was coming.

"And what a good town it is," he continued. "If it was for these good people I would willingly die in a hailstorm of bullets, leaving this perfectly-flawed planet, my body littered with lead, my heart bleeding blue upon the dust of the town I love so much-"

"Okay, okay, we get it, you're sheriff and your blood is blue," Shawn interrupted. "That's good, man. That's great. Can we move on now? I'm still really thirsty and-"

"Shawn, I think maybe you should shut up," I said as politely as possible. I'd been watching Lassiter's face contort into red, seething anger as Shawn spoke, although apparently, he'd somehow missed it.

"No, no, Juliet," Lassiter said, his voice strained. "Let it go. After all, if he doesn't believe my that my blue heart yearns for justice, that's his problem." He paused, growling. "So then, stranger. Let me prove it to you."

I groaned inwardly, realizing what was going to come next. Lassiter strode up to Shawn and slapped a gun in his hand, giving him a good slap upside the head at the same time. Shawn stumbled, surprised by both the the slap and the gun.

"Quick draw duel. You and me, high noon," Lassiter hissed in his ear. Shawn blinked.

"Dude, that's two minutes from now."

"Then I'll see you in two minutes, smart-mouth!"

Two minutes later . . .

The deep, long donging of the bell tower signaled that twelve o'clock had arrived. Silence swept over the town, blowing the noise of curiosity and nervous excitement away with the wind. The entire town had come to watch the stand-off - or, I corrected herself, more truthfully, they'd come to watch the Sheriff kick this stranger's butt.

In truth, I was actually sort of worried - not that I thought anyone would actually get hurt, but that Shawn might lose and be forced to leave. I couldn't explain my sudden attachment to the handsome stranger - perhaps I was simply struck by how different he was. He was so childish, almost like a newly housebroken puppy . . . and yet as I looked at him now, he seemed so calculating and clever, maybe even a little bit - dare I say it? - mature.

"If I win, I reserve the right to fill your boots with peanut butter and unleash a herd of live cows in your office," Shawn called out across the empty town square. I rolled her eyes to the heavens. Scratch that last thought.

"Let's just get on with it!" Lassiter yelled, and once again, all fell silent.

"Wait, does that mean you agree?" Shawn asked hesitantly, and I felt the sudden urge to slap myself.

"If you interrupt on more time I'm going to shoot you whether you're ready or not!" Lassiter roared.

Shawn opened his mouth to reply, then seemed to think better of it and shut up.

The tension rose higher, hitching a ride with the burning sun. Beads of sweat appeared on Shawn's forehead, only slightly cooled by the shadow of the large brim of his hat. Lassiter remained cool and aloof, although how he wasn't melting like a snowman I didn't know.

All was silent.

The crowd held their breath, stomachs twisted into knots, waiting, watching for someone to make the first move -

Someone chose that exact moment to dart across the field, screaming, "The squirrels are coming! The squirrels are coming!"

"MCNABB!" Lassiter roared.

"Raccoons!" Shawn wailed.

"SQUIRRELS!" McNabb repeated, and the town erupted.

Panic exploded from townspeople who were screaming and running for cover. Squirrels overflowed buildings, screeching and leaking from the windows. Lassiter ran around screaming "I will not die by squirrels! I will not die by squirrels!" while Shawn started to cry. Creatures I had never seen before were running rabid through the streets and suddenly I couldn't see -

"Juliet! Juliet!"

Everything was dark, but I had the vague sensation someone was shaking me -

"Jules! Wake up!"

"Shawn!" I gasped and bolted upright, suddenly very, very dizzy. "Wait - what . . .?"

"You fell asleep and missed the best part!" Shawn whined. I blinked.

We were sitting on the couch at my house. High Noon was playing on the television, and the bowl of popcorn in Shawn's lap was completely empty. Memories started coming back to me . . . oh, right. Movie night.

"Are you okay?" Shawn asked, sounding more amused than concerned. "You kept shouting in your sleep . . ."

"I'm fine," I said. "It was just a really weird dream . . ."

"Nightmares about squirrels, Jules? You might be spending a little too much time with Lassie."

I blinked and rubbed my eyes, suddenly exhausted. "Maybe a little," I mumbled, snuggling closer to him. Shawn put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my forehead.

It wasn't long before I felt myself start to drift off again, back to a land where Shawn was saving my life from the the squirrels and raccoons using the blue paintball gun he'd had during the draw, making some sort of heroic speech about riding in on lightning and lassoing tornadoes . . .
End Notes:
I hope you enjoyed! It was a ton of fun to write! :D Please review if you liked or you have any thoughts you'd like to share! I always love to hear from my readers! ^^
Masterpiece by Koohii Kappu
Author's Notes:
Yeah, I know this is super short and I kinda just jumped right in there. I was seriously slap-happy when I wrote this. I tried to write more for the beginning and the end, but every time I did I ended up deleting it. It just didn't fit right. Anyway, for now I'm posting what I've got and I'll leave the explanation of how they got into this situation up to you. XD If I manage to write more, I'll update it. Hope you enjoy my nonsense anyway! XD

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
"Look De-spaa-ro, I made a race cawr for you. Do you wike it?"

Aiden held up yellow piece of construction paper, clearly depicting what a car would look like as colorful spaghetti roadkill. Despereaux took it gingerly, a smile frozen on his face. Shawn was fighting back laughter, nearly choking on his drink in the process. Juliet shot Despereaux a glare that clearly started, 'if you hurt my son's feelings I will personally ruin your life forever.'

"It's . . . a masterpiece." Despereaux coughed, looking away.

"Reawly?" Aiden grinned, looking just like his father. Despereaux suspected that he wouldn't be able to speak again without spontaneously combusting due to guilt - or worse, exploding with the outright truth - so he just gave a weak smile and a half nod. Seemingly satisfied, Aiden lit up like a Christmas tree.

"You can have it!" he said, shoving the paper into Despereaux's arms. "My daddy says that you reawly wike art, and you would do anyfing for a masterpiece, and I reawly wike the cawr but I wike you more so you keep it."

"Thank you," Despereaux said, surprised that he was actually sincere this time. He folded it up carefully and put it in his coat pocket, just barely catching the faintest of smiles from Juliet out of the corner of his eye.
End Notes:
I bet you're exhausted after all that reading, right? XD Lol, still really sorry about how short it is. This was just what I had, and I was like, "I'm making one-shots, they don't have to be perfect, it's just fun." *shrugs* Review if you enjoyed! ^^
One Shot, One Kill by Koohii Kappu
Author's Notes:
A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been awhile since I last updated. Getting the motivation to write can be hard. XD Anyway, I stayed up till 12:40 writing this, so it'll either be really good that I've finally had a breakthrough or I'm just really sleep deprived. So be warned! XP Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Is that a vampire wearing bunny ears?

The sound of rubber soles shifting echoed off the rocks and Shawn shook his head, the noise reminding him he had more important things to worry about than questionable graffiti. Fog tingled in Shawn's lungs as he brew in shallow breaths, trying to be as quiet as possible. Apparently Lassiter had the same idea because the shuffling suddenly stopped. Shawn cocked his head an listened hard, trying to pinpoint the location the noise had come from, but now it was eerily silent and he couldn't get any more information.

Deciding it was time to move, Shawn pulled his gun a little closer to his chest and slipped out from his hiding place. It was dark and hard to see, but years of rough training with his dad taught him how to move with little to no light. Now putting those tactics to good use, Shawn moved as quickly and silently as possible. The last thing he needed was for the cold-eyed detective to find him. With every tick of the clock the chances of getting shot were rising. For both men, this was the endgame.

"Come on out, psychic. I know you're close!"

Shawn cursed mentally, his eyes darting around before settling on a dark flash. Pulling his gun, he flipped around the corner and shot, just barely missing. Lassie laughed, sending chills down Shawn's spine.

"You're going to need more than that if you want to catch me," he said in a creepily chipper tone.

Shawn groaned inwardly, kicking himself for missing the shot and giving his hiding place away. The realization served to remind him what was at stake and he started to sweat even though he felt ice cold. God, I can't let Lassie win this fight.

It's all my fault,
Shawn thought as he scrambled for a new place before Lassie could find him. If I hadn't been showing off around Lassie he wouldn't have gone off the deep end and I wouldn't be in this mess . . .

That same day, a few hours earlier . . .

"I heard about the shot you made, Shawn! It was incredible! I couldn't believe it actually happened until Juliet told me it was the truth!"

Growling, Head Detective Carlton Lassiter slammed the case files down on his desk, making McNabb jump. All day long it had been "Spencer this" and "Spencer that" and he was finally done.

"McNabb, take your blabbering, gullible slop of a mind and get out of my sight before I shoot you in the kneecap!" Lassiter roared. McNabb scrambled away like an injured puppy with its tail between its legs, leaving Shawn to stare at Lassie, mouth gaping.

"Dude, what the heck was that for?" Shawn's voice was laced with acid, but at that moment Lassie was too angry to care about the younger officer's feelings.

"Shut it, Spencer! I have to deal with your crap every single day so don't you scold me or so help me I will kill you," Lassiter hissed.

Shawn's eyes narrowed as a realization played out across his face. "This is about the Walbrunger's case, isn't it," he said flatly. "You're jealous of the shot I made."

"I said to shut it."

"You're afraid I'm a better detective than you!" Shawn's face changed back to his lopsided grin. "Well, if that's the case, why didn't you just say so? You didn't have to snap at McNabb!"

"You are not a better detective and I am not scared!" Lassie roared. All around the department, heads turned to stare at the red-faced detective. The stares were closing in on Lassie, choking and squeezing every decent thought he may have had about Spencer in the past and replacing it with hatred. Growling, he grabbed the psychic by his shirt collar and tugged hard.

"How about this," he snarled. "I challenge you to a gun fight. If you lose, it proves that I'm right and you're not psychic. After all, if you were you would know when and where I would attack you, correct? Lose and you admit to the Chief you'e been lying and I'll never have to see your smug little grin again."

Shawn swallowed visibly and took a deep breath. "Okay. But if I win, you have to admit to the whole department that I'm a better shot. AND you have to apologize to McNabb for what you said to him."

"Deal," Lassie spat, finally releasing Shawn. He stalked away, smiling to himself. I am so going to beat the crap out of this kid.

Presently . . .

He was with the bunny-eared vampire again.

What is wrong with kids these days? Shawn wondered, glancing at the wall before remembering to focus on the task at hand.

Don't get shot. That's all I need to do. Don't get shot. Don't get shot.

"You're running out of time, psychic," Lassie's voice drawled. Shawn closed his eyes to shut out the words and just listen to the sound. This time he was able to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from - the other side of the rock tower, underneath the Scribblenauts graffiti he'd seen earlier. His eyes snapped open and Lassie's voice came loud and clear -

"It'll be such a relief to know that I won't have to wake up wondering whether or not I'll see your face that day," Lassie was saying. "God, mornings will actually be enjoyable again."

Shawn crawled forward little by little, timing his movements with Lassiter's words so the sound would be camouflaged by the monologue. His palms were starting to get sweaty - he knew if he missed this shot there would be no recovering. This was his last shot at winning, Shawn realized, grinning on the inside at his own pun. The smile faded almost immediately as Lassie continued talking, though.

"Investigating will be so much easier without your antics. And who knows? I might even investigate your murder at some point. Maybe even soon."

Shawn blinked the sweat out of his eye and moved in closer. He was almost there now - just one more rock to wiggle over and Lassie would be in his sight-

"I'm guessing by your silence that you're not willing to play along," Lassie said. "How unusual. Usually you're so snarky. Do you feel all right, Spencer? You're not feeling sick, are you?"

Somehow the detective's fake concern was even more unnerving than his taunts. Shawn made it over the last of the ledge, sucking in a breath when he saw Lassie in an attempt to steady his hands and to keep silent. Cocking his gun, Shawn aimed his gun right over the detective's heart. His own heart was pounding so hard that it drowned out whatever Lassie was saying. All he could process was the shaky trigger underneath his finger and Lassie's dark shadow.

Then the shadow turned and grinned.

"Hello, psychic."

Both guns went off before Shawn could utter the word "Crap."

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

"Congratulations you guys, it was a tie!"

"WHAT?" Both Lassiter and Shawn yelped at the same time.

"I totally shot him first!" Shawn yelled.

"Well, you both have the same number of points on your scoreboard," the lady at the desk said, pointing to the screen. Sure enough, both men held a score of 24,500 points.

"Then it's broken," the detective grumbled, but his heart wasn't in it.

"We didn't come all this way for a tie! I demand a rematch!" Shawn grabbed Lassie's arm and started tugging him back to the battlefield.

"No way, Spencer! It's bad enough that you got me to play laser tag with you once, I'm not doing it again! And besides, I have actual police work to do." Growling, Lassiter jerked his arm out of Shawn's grip.

Shawn acted like he was desperate for another go, but secretly he was glad with the turnout. He didn't have to admit his little secret and, in all honesty, he hadn't really wanted to put Lassiter through the embarrassment they'd agreed on. Every once in awhile, Lassie was bound to get fed up and overreact, but Shawn didn't take it too personally. At that moment, a thought occurred to Shawn and his inner grin disappeared as he ran after the detective's retreating back.

"You really do have to apologize to McNabb though," he huffed. "You are going to do that, right?"

Lassiter only grunted in response, but under the circumstances Shawn decided to take that as a yes.
End Notes:
I had a really hard time insulting McNabb like that. XD Anyway, I'm not super satisfied with the ending, but on the whole I really like this story. Please review if you liked it too, and also tell me if you guessed that ending or not! :P
Words and Deeds by Koohii Kappu
Author's Notes:
A/N: Hello. Welcome to a dark space in my mind . . . this is a short fic in which an emotional Lassie contemplates a promise he can no longer keep. Warning: Spoilers-ish for season 6, ep 1 Shawn Rescues Darth Vader! If you haven't seen it . . . I guess you could read the fic anyway, but it'll kill some of the future fangirling vibes if you do. BECAUSE DAT SCENE THO (you know which one I'm talking about!).

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A gunshot crack accompanied Lassiter's bullet as it exploded toward its target.

"C'mon Lassie, we're not really going to do this again, are we?"

Lassiter reloaded his gun with a sharp snap, barely two seconds passing before he shot off another round of bullets. Rage cut out his surroundings and focused his fluid movements on pinpoint accuracy - every bullet ripped through its intended target, tearing painful holes.

"My point is . . . If you don't treat O'Hara with the respect she deserves, or if you hurt her in any way, I will discharge my pistol."

When he'd had that conversation with Shawn, he'd been extremely pleased with the results. He made his speech without Spencer having a single word in edgewise, finally, finally being able to render the irritating psychic speechless. Shawn hadn't anything to say then, just like he couldn't say anything now.

"You're saying you'll shoot me?"

Lassiter grinned.


The gun clicked several times before Lassiter realized the ammo had run out. Growling, he tossed the gun to the side and yanked the goggles off his face, rubbing the back of his head. The shooting range abruptly fell silent.

The look on Spencer's face when he realized Lassiter wasn't kidding had made the detective's day, but now he couldn't picture it without feeling bitterness rise in the back of his throat. He could never forgive him for what he'd done to O'Hara - the only relief he got from all of this was that he would never have to.

Lassiter hated to admit it, but underneath all the contempt he had for the fake psychic, guilt lay waiting like a spider in its web. It tugged on the delicate threads, whispering, "It wasn't all Spencer's fault . . ." Lassiter's heart agreed, but his mind was blinded by its blazing hunger for someone to blame. It didn't need to end this way! If the freaking idiot had just sucked up his pride and called for backup for once in his life, O'Hara wouldn't be broken!

But it was too late for what should have happened, and now Lassiter couldn't keep his promise. Frustration was curdling in his stomach - because he couldn't kill Spencer, because Spencer had gotten himself killed in the first place . . . and, worst of all, because he couldn't do anything to help O'Hara - and nothing could quell the constant storm.

Lassiter realized - standing alone in the shooting range, dozens of bullet holes burning through the paper targets behind him - that he would never be satisfied.

Along with that realization, uselessness formed a cold pit in his chest. He couldn't help O'Hara, he couldn't keep his promise, he couldn't even do his job properly. The feeling tore at him incessantly, threatening to choke him until liquid unwillingly slipped out of his eyes. He wasn't used to feeling emotions so strongly - normally he prided himself on his ability to stay cold and aloof no matter what was going on . . . But one look at O'Hara's devastated face had brought all that crashing down, all because of one small, stupid, irritating psychic who refused to follow the rules.

God, even when he's dead he's unbearably annoying.

A grin just barely tugged at the corner of his mouth before disappearing behind a dark scowl.

Swear to God, Spencer, if there is an afterlife, I will find a way to punish you for this.
End Notes:
Do you think I rambled too much? I feel like I rambled too much. I feel like I literally just wrote what I was thinking and abandoned all structure and order. And also, I didn't know how to end it. XP Please tell me what you thought and whether it was good or it sucked! Everything helps :)
One Day, One Room by Koohii Kappu
Author's Notes:
A/N: I wrote my heart out with only half an idea of what I was actually doing. Then I left this draft sit on my computer for a week or so. I really had no idea what to do with it. XD Anyway I wasn't sure I was going to post this at all, honestly, but I showed it to my friend and she immediately smacked me over the head for not doing anything with it yet. So . . . read it and tell me what you think! :P

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
The ten-year old's complete stillness was the only outward sign that he was finally beginning to break. Sitting on the cold bench, Shawn's feet hung a few inches short of the ground, the most motionless they'd ever been since he was born. He waited without wondering, listened without focusing. It didn't matter what they said behind the closed doors - the outcome would be the same. The outcome was always the same.

Shawn was used to the fighting - the constant tearing at each other, always trying to bring the other down, always needed to be right - but today was different. Today they weren't just straining things. Today was the day something finally broke.

A woman knelt down in front of Shawn, trying to get him to meet her eyes. He continued to stare at the floor like she wasn't there, and when she put her hand on his knee he flinched.

"It's going to be okay," she said.

"You don't have to lie to me."

"I didn't."

Her tone made Shawn finally look up. He saw her smile, unfamiliar but somehow comforting. Shawn suddenly realized something - she wasn't looking down on him or pitying the boy sitting alone outside the courtroom.

She was honestly trying to help.

"Thank you," he said simply, hoping the two words would convey everything. But, he realized again, whether or not she understood didn't matter.

What mattered was that he understood.

The courtroom doors swung open, and, at the same time, the peace he felt inside disappeared like it was a door abruptly slammed shut. Shawn's cheeks burned under his mother's momentary glance - then, like he was a complete stranger to her, Madelyn turned her back and walked away without a second glance.

Shawn stared hard at the ground, refusing to let the screams bleed out on his tongue.

I will not look up. I will not look up. I. Will. Not. Look. Up.

The click of a closed door informed him that she was finally gone.
Broken Bird by Koohii Kappu
Author's Notes:
Well, it's been round about a year since I wrote this and I came back to reread it out of morbid curiosity. XD I remember it being really cringey and terrible, but . . . I actually don't hate this as much as I thought I would~ Is still making me flinch here and there (Gosh I was so awkward XD), but I like it enough to keep it up on the site anyways :P
Light raindrops brushed against his eyelids and teased him with their gentle touch. The water felt good when it collided against his burning skin, making him wish it would fall a little harder. Pushing himself sideways just a bit, he slid off the brick wall and slipped onto the muddy street. He winced as the back of his head struck stone, but at least he was in the rain's full line of fire now.

The clouds were like deep pools of ash, and he realized that he couldn't tell if it were night or day. He blinked. He couldn't remember if it was night or day. When had he stopped remembering?

Did it matter?

His dad would have wanted him to remember. He could almost hear him now, telling him off from being such an idiot, trying to force him to work harder and harder. The corner of his mouth twitched as he closed his eyes against the sky and whispered, "Not hats in the alleyway, Dad." A hysterical giggle squirmed out of his mouth a second later, but he hadn't meant to let it out.

I'm alone here, he suddenly realized. I don't have to count hats anymore.

The realization didn't make him feel any better.

A sudden cold shiver crept up his spine and fled all across his body. He winced as the word alone echoed through this skull, bouncing off the bone and colliding with his ever-growing headache. Somewhere it triggered a memory of somewhere else, somewhere warm.

A brilliant green lit up in a fiery yellow glow, casting shadows that danced in the slight breeze - leaves. Trees. Footsteps lightly pressing into the ground, followed by smaller feet and destroyed everything in their way with a loud snap.

"Shawn, if you kept up that racket in the middle of a mission you'd be shot dead half an hour ago. Walk like I showed you, son."

"But we're not on a mission," he whined, kicking a pinecone and sending it skittering across the forest floor.

"And you'll never be on one if you don't practice like I showed you. Now do it right."

A solid plunk sound and frantic flapping filled Shawn's ears and blocked out the rest of his father's lesson. Curious, he skipped over to the spot where he'd kicked the pinecone and gasped.

"Dad, look!"

Next to the pinecone was the tiniest bird he'd ever seen, flailing around like a spider's dinner trying to get free. His dad bent over to get a closer look, giving a short grunt.

"Looks like it's got a broken wing."

"Will he be okay?"

"He'll probably die," his father said bluntly. "A bird's greatest defense is his ability to detect danger and escape before it's too late. Without being able to fly, he'll have nothing to keep him alive. Some animal will probably eat him and he can't do a thing about it."

"Can't we do something to help him, Dad?"

He blinked as the question faded in and out from between his ears. Groaning, he shifted his head in confusion, the headache pulsing against his brain. The rain had become dark and heavy, feeling more like small pebbles than harmless water. Shadows shifted just beyond his reach - Was someone else there?

"No, don't touch him! He's probably got a disease or something. Just leave him be."

He blinked again and the shadow people were gone. Light crept into his vision and blurred the lines between reality and memory, leaving him to wonder if he was burning because of fever and cold or because they had reached a break in the leaves that unleashed the sunlight to its full extent . . .
End Notes:
*shrugs* Yeah, I did that . . . I'm gonna regret leaving this up later for sure . . . lol XD
Endgame by Koohii Kappu
Author's Notes:
I wrote this forever ago as part of a plan for a different one-shot, but I got stuck and I wasn't able to finish the rest of it, so now just this one part is standing on its own because I really like it. XD And I thought I should actually post something light-hearted and not-a-deathfic, so yay! Two posts in one night! ^^

Hope you enjoy!
"When I get my hands on you I'm going to-" The rest of Lassiter's sentence was lost beneath the layers a growl as he raised a gun, pointed it at Spencer and pulled the trigger. Shawn moved out of the way just in time, smashing a hammer over Lassiter's head and sending his character flying off the map with a colorful bang.

"SPENCER!" Lassiter roared, tossing the controller. "Will you stop using that stupid hammer? It is the cheapest move in the game!" He pressed the A button, making his character drop from the glowing portal and jump right back into his intense fight with Shawn's character.

Gus's brow furrowed as he tried to get his character into the battle but kept getting locked out of the fight. "Shawn, could you give me a chance to-"

"Oh, and I suppose getting three Invincibility Stars in a row isn't cheap?" Shawn snapped back at Lassie, ignoring Gus. "And we agreed that if you got on of those you had to wait it out and NOT attack the other players!"

"That was an accident!" Lassiter huffed.

"Shawn, I need to get into-" Gus tried again.

"And so's this!" Shawn flicked the controller's joystick, tossing a Bomb-omb in Lassiter's face and causing him to die - again.

"Oh, that is IT Spencer! We're playing one life, NO items, and then we'll see who's the better player!" Lassiter stopped the game and went back to the settings while Shawn rolled his eyes.

"Oh please, I'm the Super Smash Master. There's no way you could beat me without using your precious Stars."

"Hey, could you just listen to me for a sec-" Gus stopped and turned around when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Shawn and Lassiter, on the other hand, took no notice.

"Well I have proper training," Lassiter retorted. "Justice will prevail, be it in the gritty, dirt-in-your-face real life or in a popular children's video game!"

"You're on!" Shawn said. The next match started with a flash of red and Shawn's fingers immediately attacked the buttons on the controller, half not paying attention to what moves he was actually using. Lassiter was doing the same until Gus's character dropped in between the two, did a sweeping kick the sent both of them flying, then used a complicated chain of attacks that killed both players instantly. And, just fourteen seconds after the game had started, it was over.

". . . What just happened . . .?"

Shawn and Lassie turned to look at Gus . . . and saw Juliet, controller in hand, while Gus stood next to the couch with his mouth open in a silent "o".

"I grew up with brothers," Juliet shrugged, like that explained everything. "Can we play something else now?"

Stunned, Lassiter and Shawn shared a look.

"This game doesn't take that much skill anyway," Lassiter said, and Juliet just rolled her eyes.
End Notes:
Reviews make me happy~
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