#terrie godfrey

[gameofthunder66]

'The Majorettes' (1987) film

-watched 6/7/2023- 2 stars- on Tubi (free)

[thou-babbling-brook]

Cold Feet

AO3

Rating: G

Word Count: 2216

Tags: Davenport Homestead, Assassin's Creed III, American Revolution, Canon Compliant, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, "The Wedding" Mission

Summary: Connor convinces Myriam to start her new life with Norris. Set during "The Wedding" Homestead mission between the chase sequence and the wedding scene. Hope you guys enjoy!

Connor would be the first to admit that he knew little to nothing about colonial wedding customs. Aside from a few comprehensive history and culture lessons from his teen years when he first traveled to Achilles, Connor knew nothing about the complexities of colonial weddings. Father Timothy had been kind enough to explain a few key details, such as “giving” Myriam away at the altar (which Connor was more than happy to do for his old friend), but details slipped Connor’s mind from time to time over the next several days of intense planning and preparation.

But there was one thing that Connor was sure they did not include: chasing the bride in question through the snow-covered trees minutes before her wedding.

The day began with as much chaos as one would expect. Before the roosters began to crow, nearly every member of the Homestead bustled about preparing for the joyous celebration. Oliver and Corrine worked hard preparing their finest wines for the occasion while preparing the livestock meat and crops gathered by Warren and Prudence – and of course, little baby Hunter, who cooed excitedly against his mother’s back. Once finished organizing the food, Prudence and Corrine joined the ladies in adorning Myriam in fine, comfortable fabrics suitable for the huntress. Ellen poked needles into the sides to ensure the stitching was up to par, while Diana and Catherine squawked at Connor and Norris for accidentally stepping near the bride’s suite (which Connor did not dare remind the ladies was his home). 

In the meantime, Big Dave and Lance worked tirelessly to adorn both the inn and the church with banners and decor fit for the Homestead’s very first wedding. Big Dave lifted the chubby woodworker up to pin the wooden posts on the side of the inn, waving to Terry and Godfrey as the lumberers warned Norris of the horrors of marriage to come.

“You’ll ne’er be right ‘bout anythin’ again, ya hear me, boy?” Godfrey teased as he slapped his palm against Norris’s back.

“Aye, and forget about havin’ the covers to yerself! You’ll be shiverin’ like a leaf!” Terry explained. Norris merely laughed and shook his head.

In the church, Dr. White and Achilles aided Father Timothy in preparing his short sermon, arranging the pews, and finishing the final touches hours before the wedding. Even the Assassin recruits were more than happy to help with the preparations. Stephane set to work in the kitchen alongside Oliver to cater the large meal ahead. Duncan, ever the Catholic, assisted Father Timothy in rehearsing his sermon. Jacob offered his wisdom for marriage while he straightened Norris’s hair, while Dobby stood guard outside Myriam’s dressing room in case of wandering eyes from stray men. Clipper and Jamie helped Mr. Faulkner and the crew of the Aquila find their drunken ways to the church, all while Connor wandered about and assisted where he could.

So, given the day’s chaotic events, it was not surprising to Connor as he announced happily to the pacing Norris that all was in order that Myriam was “missing.” After all, the ladies had only just left her room. How much trouble could the huntress find herself in?

Apparently, thought Connor as he raced through the trees and leapt through the branches, quite a lot. 

“Leave me be!” Myriam shouted as she jumped to the next branch, a stray branch slowing her down as it caught on her white dress. It was not enough to stop her, but it was enough for Connor to come within speaking distance.

“Why do you run?!” Connor replied, his voice echoing through the forest with concern lacing his tone. He swung to the next branch, careful not to slip and even more careful to ensure Myriam did not.

“Leave me be!” Myriam exclaimed. She crossed over to the next tree in an attempt to throw Connor off her trail. “I’m no housewife!”

Connor’s brow furrowed. While he could not necessarily speak for the entire Homestead, “housewife” would be one of the last descriptors attributed to Myriam. She was a huntress, and a respectable one at that. Through his confusion, Connor quickly ducked through another tree and sprinted across the large, sturdy branch. “No one thinks you are one!”

Myriam slid down a fallen tree, stumbling into the snow before whirling around to face Connor. “That’s what all of this means!”

A silence passed between the two as flurries of snow cascaded around them. Myriam sighed, grabbing her crown of flowers and tossing it to the ground. She sunk to the snowy ground and hid her face in her knees.

Quietly, Connor knelt beside Myriam. Lifting the flower crown into his hands, he joined her in the blanket of snow. He said nothing, only silently thumbing the daffodils adorning her crown. The two sat for a moment while gazing over the rushing river, watching as it cascaded over weathered rocks. Myriam reached forward and threw one into the water. When it sank to the bottom of the river, she huffed angrily through her nose.

“I don’t want to be some housewife that sits around waiting for her husband to come home,” she explained, tossing her hands into the air in frustration. “That’s not who I am. I’m not… I’m not some lady wanting to be kept pregnant and barefoot!”

“No one thinks you are one,” Connor repeated gently. Myriam shot a glare at the hulking man, Connor shrinking in on himself in response despite his size. 

“That’s what this means! This whole wedding! Shoving me into this stuffy dress, preparing me to take vows, giving me away!” She stood, pacing by the riverside. She gave Connor an apologetic look. “No offense. If I want anyone to give me away, it would be you.”

Connor rose and nodded his head. “None taken. But what is it that causes you to believe that you will become a housewife?”

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Myriam groaned before settling her hands on her hips and staring out into the river. “I… I don’t know!” She tossed her hands in the air again, rustling her hair and pacing back and forth. “I don’t belong inside a house cooking and cleaning and caring for a husband and an entire brood of children. I belong in the open air, in my hunting blinds, with my rifle in my hands!” Her hands formed the gesture of her weapon in question. Then, they fell to her sides. “If I marry Norris… I’ll be leaving behind all of my freedom that I worked so hard to gain.”

Stepping closer, Connor laid a hand on Myriam’s back. “That is not true,” he murmured quietly. “You know that better than I. Norris wants only for you to be happy.”

“Do I?” Myriam asked. Her voice faltered and she turned her nose to the rushing river. “What if, when we get married, all he wants is for me to sit at home and… I don’t know, wash his feet?”

Connor unintentionally wrinkled his nose. At the very least, the gesture provided a quick laugh for the two hunters. The uncomfortable silence returned soon after, broken only by the sounds of quiet chirping and rustling bushes.

“Norris did not fall in love with a housewife,” Connor finally spoke up. He met Myriam’s gaze with his own, gentle eyes. “Why would he expect such?”

“All men do,” Myriam sighed. 

“I do not.”

“You are not all men.”

Connor glanced down at the flower crown in his hands, thumbing over the white petals. “Perhaps I am not.”

Myriam pinched her nose again. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend–”

“No, it is alright,” Connor assured her. His brows furrowed in thought while Myriam squinted into the horizon. Then, a candle sparked in his mind. “How much do you know of my people, Myriam?”

“I don’t see the point of your question,” Myriam remarked tersely. When Connor gave a serious expression, she sighed. “But to answer it, not much.”

He moved in front of Myriam. “I think you would like it very much. For my people, it is the women who lead. We may have chiefs and war councils, but these men are voted upon by our women. Clan Mothers lead the village. We trace our ancestry through our mothers. For women, marriage is not just a union of the husband and wife, but of the village to the couple.”

Myriam raised a brow. “Your point?”

Placing the flower crown upon her head, Connor continued. “You are not a housewife, but even if you were, it would not change who you are. You are a skillful leader and hunter. Norris knows this. He marries you because of it, not in spite of it. He admires you for who you are. You need be nothing else. And by marrying Norris, you unite our friends as a whole, too.”

Silently, Myriam adjusted the crown and tucked stray strands of hair behind her ears. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” He cracked a rare smile. “Besides, you are a better shot than Norris. If anyone will be the housewife, it will be him.”

Myriam snorted. “The bad part is that I think he would enjoy being a housewife.” Her shoulders shook as she began to laugh. “Could you imagine? Me, coming home with a pipe of tobacco sticking out of my mouth, my rifle on my back, and hares in my hands while Norris cooks and cleans?”

Connor chuckled, then gently led Myriam towards the path leading to the church. “But you cannot imagine such a fate until you are wed.”

“No,” Myriam smiled, “I suppose I can’t.” As they reached the church, Myriam turned to Connor with a mixture of fear and excitement.

“I’m scared.”

Connor nodded. “I know.”

“What do I do?”

“What do you do when you face a cougar?”

“I shoot it. Are you suggesting I shoot Norris?”

“No, but I am suggesting that you face him like you would any animal.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “You are a strong, cunning woman, Myriam. He loves you deeply. He would not be marrying you if he had no intention of respecting you.”

Myriam inhaled sharply. “How do I get over it?”

“The fear?”

“No, the weather – what else would there be?”

“You won’t,” chimed a gentle, soft voice. Prudence and Ellen emerged from behind the church. Ellen offered Myriam her bouquet of flowers while Prudence wrapped a white shawl around her shivering shoulders. Prudence patted her cheek. “When I married Warren years ago, I was terrified of our future. But you learn, in marriage, that you are both equally frightened.” She giggled along with Ellen and Myriam.

Ellen took Myriam’s hands in her own. “My marriage was an unhappy one,” she confessed. Connor looked on solemnly, catching Ellen’s somber gaze for a mere second before Ellen mustered a smile. “But I can offer this wisdom: a good husband will cherish his wife for her talents, her wit, her love, her devotion, and her faith. Norris practically worships the ground you walk on. He will make a fine husband.”

Myriam sniffled. “Fuck,” she cursed. “I can’t believe I’m crying like some… some old hag!” Prudence and Ellen laughed, rubbing Myriam’s shoulders before holding her tightly.

“Besides,” Prudence cooed, staring over Myriam’s shoulder into Connor’s watchful gaze, “once we have you and Norris married, we can finally focus our attention on finding Connor a wife.”

Cheeks flushing, Connor brought his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “That will not be necessary.”

“Oh, hush, Prudence,” Ellen giggled. “We mustn't scare him from the prospect yet.” She turned back to Myriam, kissing her cheek. “We have to go back inside, but we will support you no matter what.” Prudence nodded in agreement before waving goodbye, giggling alongside Ellen as they hurried into the church.

Myriam rubbed her arms and faced Connor, walking with him up the steps. “You will be there every step of the way?”

“Every step,” Connor assured.

“Okay.”

“How do you feel?”

“Terrified. Like I want to run away again,” Myriam chuckled breathlessly. Connor hummed and looped his arm with hers.

“I will be there regardless. I am sure Norris will be as well.”

Myriam smiled. “Thank you, Connor.”

“You do not need to thank me. You are my friend.”

She stood on her tiptoes, pressing her frigid lips to Connor’s freckled cheek. “No, but I will. Thank you.”

Blushing, Connor cleared his throat and led Myriam to the entrance of the church, where the guests began to rise as they spotted the bridge.

“Prudence and Ellen are right, though. We must find you a bride,” she whispered, doing her best to ignore the endless amount of eyes upon her and Connor. 

Connor chuckled, patting her hand. “I can only hope she is not as fast nor agile as you.”

“Ha, ha. Who knew you had such a sense of humor?”

Years later, when Connor would find himself fidgeting in front of his betrothed’s longhouse, Myriam would loop her arm with his, kiss his flustered cheek, and walk him into the longhouse with the same kindness he had shown her before.

Luckily for Connor, his wife did not run into the trees. How fortunate he was indeed. 

[dc-tournaments]

[dweemeister]

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971)

In the late 1950s and 1960s, American International Pictures (AIP) was a minor Hollywood studio with an outsized reputation. AIP, which made nothing but low-budget pictures and B-movies during its existence, focused on cornering the market for teenagers and young adults. Rather than making an endless string of superhero movies, AIP instead relied on its Beach Party series and related films (1963-1967) and inexpensive horror movies (usually involving producer/director Roger Corman). One of AIP’s mainstays for its coterie of horror films was none other than Vincent Price. A longtime character actor for 20th Century Fox, Price had only begun to regularly feature in horror films beginning with House of Wax (1953). From there, he became a regular on AIP’s Edgar Allan Poe adaptations (very loose adaptations, mind you) under Corman’s direction. No matter how dastardly Price’s characters schemes were in his numerous horror films, Price’s almost effortless charm always pored through, to the point that one cannot help but root for his schemes to succeed.

Though Roger Corman was not involved in The Abominable Dr. Phibes (Phibes rhymes with “bribes”), a portion of Price’s fans point to his performance here in the title role as the Vincent Price-iest of all. In this darkly comedic horror film directed by former production designer Robert Fuest (the 1961-1969 TV series The Avengers, director on 1970’s Wuthering Heights), the film’s deliberate campiness demands more absurd motivations, plot developments, and aesthetic choices than some viewers might be comfortable with. In short, this is not the ideal introduction to Vincent Price or AIP’s horror movies. To enjoy the first Phibes film is to be in on the joke, to accept the film’s inherent silliness.

The opening credits help set that mood. As they roll, Dr. Phibes (Price) ascends from beneath a flight of stairs, playing on organ Felix Mendelssohn’s “War March of the Priests” from Athalie. His only company in this fiendish lair are his tall, silent assistant Vulnavia (Virginia North) and his animatronic band, the Dr. Phibes Clockwork Wizards. Reported killed in a Switzerland car accident in 1921 alongside his wife Victoria, Phibes (who carries heavy facial scars and lost his speaking voice in the crash) is hellbent on seeking revenge against the British doctors who presided over Victoria’s failed surgery. Instead of going to therapy, Phibes murders the doctors instead. One after another, the doctors die in increasingly elaborate ways – each homicide inspired by one of the ten Plagues of Egypt as described in the Book of Exodus. After the third doctor dies, Scotland Yard finally begins connecting the dots under Inspector Harry Trout (Peter Jeffrey). Trout soon realizes that the deceased were all directed by Dr. Vesalius (Joseph Cotten). This revelation only begins to unearth Phibes’ wicked plot.

Elsewhere, Hugh Griffith plays a helpful Rabbi and Terry-Thomas plays one of the doctors. Derek Godfrey and John Cater play Inspector Trout’s superiors, Crow and Weaverly, respectively. Aubrey Woods, whom most know as Bill the Candy Man from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971), plays an eyewitness named Goldsmith.

The screenplay by William Goldstein (who returned for the sequel), James Whiton (his only major writing credit), and Fuest, is no one’s idea of sensible, intelligently structured writing. The transitions between the scenes involving Phibes, his assistant, and the victims to Scotland Yard and Dr. Vesalius are untidy. Goldstein, Whiton, and Fuest attempt to make more of a mystery out of this film than they should, but it only serves to make the investigatory half of the film as a dumping ground of expository dialogue. The scenes with Phibes are the zanier, far more interesting parts of the screenplay – even though the character can no longer speaker (the writers engineer an inexplicable workaround, but this unlikely development can have a pass in the context of this bizarre work). For the scriptural scholars among us, some of the stylish killings of the unsuspecting doctors take liberties with the stated Ten Plagues of Egypt. Though perhaps unacceptable to those demanding strict adherence to the holy texts, the thematic divergences of those murders are still so cockamamie that most viewers probably do not mind.

Dr. Phibes’ murders would make Jigsaw from the Saw series (2004-present) proud. To be clear, The Abominable Dr. Phibes is not a slasher film (a subgenre that was beginning to find its foundations by the early 1970s), but it contains elements that would become slasher hallmarks – an individual committing several revenge killings due to a past event, a sort of catharsis (in later slasher movies, sexual gratification) in the act of killing, and unusual manners of murder. Instead of horrifying the viewer with the wanton death, it is Vincent Price’s performance that keeps The Abominable Dr. Phibes within the confines of comedic horror. Due to reasons that I do not wish to spoil, Price’s Phibes scarcely makes a facial expression aside from his default, neutral gaze. His gait is deliberate and steady. Without the possibility of any facial muscular contortions or Price’s trademark smirk, so much of Price’s performance is through his eyes. From his thousand-yard stares, contemptuous gazes, world weary looks, and bemused glances, Price provides an enormous amount of the film’s soul and tenor with so little of his body. This sounds like a silent film director’s dream, but Price’s performance is a commanding one, in any era. His Dr. Phibes may not be in full control of his movements (thanks to Trevor Crole-Rees’ excellent makeup design), but Price is always fully in control of his acting. No surprise to anyone who knows Price’s work – always dependable to provide his utmost effort, no matter how dire the material.

The screenplay, nevertheless, keeps some emotional distance between the audiences and the title character. Though the film’s absurdity allows the viewer to scrap their sense of morality while watching Phibes slaughter each of the doctors, Phibes’ psychology is inaccessible until the film’s second half. The filmmakers, by not prioritizing Phibes’ mindset as much as they could, continually frame him as the villain amid bumbling detectives, the privileged victims (ensuring that the viewer cares not too much about their deaths), and the prideful Dr. Vesalius (whose hubris erodes as the film progresses, revealing his desperate humanity).

If anybody could be considered a co-lead here, that would be Joseph Cotten as Dr. Vesalius. The underrated and undermentioned Cotten, not at all known for his horror work and more for his collaborations with Orson Welles (namely 1941’s Citizen Kane and 1942’s The Magnificent Ambersons), performs ably here. Cotten replaced Price’s friend, Peter Cushing (Grand Moff Tarkin in 1977’s Star Wars, a regular as Baron Frankenstein and Van Helsing in Hammer horror movies), after Cushing fell ill. Cushing would have been ideal in the role, but never does Cotten act as if the unconvincing dialogue is beneath him, even if he doesn’t attempt to hide his American accent. As Dr. Vesalius, Cotten wonderfully inhabits his character’s desperation as his colleagues meet their ends, as if prophesied.

Set designer Brian Eatwell (1973’s The Three Musketeers, 1976’s The Man Who Fell to Earth) runs rampant with his design to Phibes’ lair. A curious combination of art deco and the garishness of 1970s colors serves the film’s ludicrousness. I am not sure how livable Phibes’ abode is – there are nary any bedrooms or any other amenities depicted – but the central chamber could be an ideal place for a raucous, demented soiree. Vulnavia’s ever-changing wardrobe in each of her scenes is also a delight, thanks to costume designer Elsa Fennell (1964’s Goldfinger, 1971’s Diamonds Are Forever). Perhaps there isn’t too much of association between campy costumes and sets with heartrending motives for murder, but that is exactly what transpires in The Abominable Dr. Phibes.

In addition, a laughably anachronistic soundtrack of swing jazz and Great American Songbook standards dot the film. I was not prepared for the appearance of either Mendelssohn’s “War March of the Priests” nor the legendary song that rounds out the closing credits. Phibes’ introduction while playing the former on organ readies the viewer not to take everything that is about to unfold seriously. For the latter song (again, I dare not spoil this), a brilliant solo trumpet takes the easily recognizable melody and swings it. Lyrically, this song’s placement in the end credits is fitting for what happens to Phibes. But I could not help but laugh the moment I heard the opening notes – a fitting send-off to a gleefully daft movie.

When The Abominable Dr. Phibes arrived in theaters, its poster showed the mutilated Dr. Phibes appearing as if he is about to kiss a woman. Above them read the tagline: “Love means never having to say you’re ugly.” This was a reference to Love Story (1970), with its (in)famous tagline and in-movie quote: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” The marketing for The Abominable Dr. Phibes confused audiences – was it a romance? horror? parody? – and the film struggled initially before AIP retooled its advertising to market the film as a horror film. On its low budget, the film was successful enough to warrant AIP to greenlight a sequel, Dr. Phibes Rises Again (1972). That sequel marked the beginning of the end of Price’s association with AIP, due to conflicts over his pay (while AIP’s box office fortunes were dwindling), his lack of satisfaction with the scripts coming his way (not even Price wanted to star in two Dr. Goldfoot movies in two years), and AIP’s plans to replace him with Robert Quarry as their primary horror star.

In the years since the film’s debut in cinemas, The Abominable Dr. Phibes has garnered a deserved cult status. There was no stopping Vincent Price from leaving AIP, but AIP – with their Robert Quarry plans not even a secret – somehow undervalued the actor who was their principal attraction through the 1960s. An essential in Price’s filmography, The Abominable Dr. Phibes defies genre conventions, genre categorization, and any semblance of rationality. For those looking for some bloody horror as the mercury drops, look no further than here. The first Dr. Phibes films guarantees murders with a wink and, though not a smile, an animatronic band playing hits that have yet to be composed.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog. Half-points are always rounded down.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[iphigeniacomplex]

[ID:

A screenshot of a Tumblr post on dark mode. It reads "To the sorry sad-sack responsible for this, I would like to announce that Neil Gaiman is coming for your kneecaps, the ghost of Terry Pratchett will haunt you for eternity, and guess what, bitch? You just pissed off the GODDAMN INEFFABLE FANDOM, who will no doubt (at least in spirit) wage a full-on Armageddon-scale WAR on your ass!! I'll bring the flaming sword.

Your move, motherfucker.

~ Godfrey.

P.S. @/neil-gaiman I feel your pain, sir. As a writer myself, I don't think I could live with something like this. You're not alone. 'Writer' rhymes with 'fighter' for a reason."

]

[buttercupyellow]

Did they fr not name Terry & Godfrey’s kids???

[acti-veg]

“Gastropods are often chosen as experimental animals because they are simple, easy to work with, and don’t trigger much attention from research ethics committees. But some researchers have started to express unease about the situation. As Robyn Crook and Terry Walters note in a review article about molluscs, it is because we think these animals have relevant similarities with us that time and money is spent doing experiments on them.

But the more similarities there are between them and us with respect to pain and its relatives, the more questionable it becomes that we choose to perform these experiments. Crook and Walters—who are both respected and mainstream researchers, not outsiders or critics of the whole enterprise—end up calling for more care and oversight, the use of anesthetics, and a reduction in the number of animals used. Forty years ago, saying this about slugs would probably have been seen as ridiculous.”

-Peter Godfrey-Smith, Metazoa: Animal Minds and The Birth of Consciousness

[teecupangel]

Desmond owning a bakery on the Davenport Homestead!! Why not complete the trilogy?

Making various kinds of bread for the Mile's End to be served as sides for meals, using leftover goods make other kinds of meals and to feed Prudence's & Warren's animals, and the people of the homestead often visiting the bakery when taking breaks from their jobs.

I imagine Connor meeting Desmond for the first time on the Frontier when the latter was looking for better herbs to use in the bread he makes. Connor felt something familiar in him, prob thought "y not", and offered Desmond a chance to have a bakery at the homestead.

Even if Connor mayhaps isn't a big fan of sweets, someone else on the homestead certainly is (Godfrey's & Terry's kids have sweet teeth(?) for sure).

Here’s the 3rd Crusade Baker version with Desmond using the power of looking a lot like Altaïr but with big bright smiles to unnerve and confuse the Al-Sayf brothers and the power of sweets to stop Altaïr from asking questions.

Here’s the Renaissance Italy Baker version where Ezio and Leonardo mistake Desmond as Giovanni’s illegitimate child and Desmond mistakes Leonardo’s ‘hints’ as Leonardo starting to figure out that he’s a time traveler with bonus oblivious Maria who just think Ezio and Leonardo really likes the bread and keeps asking Ezio to buy more.

Let’s combine both of your asks!

.

Desmond actually learns to bake in England. There’s a sweet old couple who needed help with their bakery and Desmond sorta got adopted by them. That’s where he learned the basics of how to bake.

He stayed with the sweet couple until they die peacefully of old age.

They lived a long life and Desmond doesn’t regret staying with them for this long.

Then their son who never even bothered to visit them took over the bakery and kicked Desmond out because he felt threatened by Desmond.

Desmond had half the mind to stab the asshole but he refrained from doing acts of violence because (1) he made a promise to himself that this life, he was going to try and be a pacifist (emphasis on try) and (2) he knows the sweet couple would be sad if Desmond stabs the asshole… in the leg… maybe twist it a bit… no, Desmond. Bad, Desmond.

So… knowing he was going to do something he had promised not to do if he stayed in England, he made his way for the first ship leaving the port, requesting to be taken in as kitchen help or something (even gave the captain his last batch of bread to sweeten the pot).

…

Okay.

So…

Here’s the thing.

Desmond had been deliberately ignoring whatever news he hears and the year. Because he knew if he knew the year, he’d be tempted to do something because he was around the time that Ratonhnhaké:ton would be born so…

He’s trying to be selfish here, okay?

He knows it’s not really the best way to go about it and he knows that he can, in theory, change history and all that grand stuff.

But Desmond doesn’t want to do that. He already saved the world. This is his retirement.

Why is this important?

Because Desmond would like to stress that it was a bloody coincidence that he boarded the same ship Haytham boarded to go to the colonies.

And now Haytham was observing him because he knows that Desmond was not part of the original crew which means he was suspicious.

So Desmond stays away from Haytham and keep his head down and… hope for the best, essentially.

…

Desmond would like to stress that he did not give Haytham food poisoning!

He was in charge of cutting ingredients, for god’s sake! He was nowhere near the pot OR Haytham’s fucking plate.

Also… is Haytham sure it’s not just seasickness?

… probably not but Desmond is innocent!

Oh, what he would do to wring the neck of the actual Assassin who failed in assassinating Haytham. If he was going to poison the man, at least double the dosage anyway to be sure!

Again.

Desmond is a pacifist… but dear god that kitchen knife was certainly looking quite sexy at the moment.

.

Ah.

Land.

And most important.

Goodbye, Haytham!

Desmond should skedaddle and…

What’s that?

Oh.

Someone needs help? Well… Desmond wasn’t heartless. He’d help.

Oh, wait.

Oh, fuck.

It was Benjamin Franklin.

Why yes, Desmond was looking for work.

What’s that?

Oh, he can cook but he makes a mean bread.

…

Oh.

Uuuhh… it seemed Desmond just got hired by Benjamin Franklin to be part of his kitchen staff???

.

Desmond has no idea who the two Assassins were.

He has no idea why the two of them decided to visit Franklin this early in the morning.

What he does know is that Franklin turns into a whiny baby if he smells Desmond’s bread and can’t eat it so he’s serving them all fresh bread and tea just so Franklin doesn’t complain to him later on.

… was that the light of a POE?

Nope.

Desmond must be seeing things.

.

Jesus Christ.

He doesn’t know why Franklin had been kidnapped and why he has to be kidnapped as well. He can, of course, just beat the crap out of all of them but…

Well…

That would destroy his ‘pacifist life’, right?

He did tell Franklin that he quit as soon as they got kidnapped though because this man was a magnet for trouble and the pay wasn’t worth all these.

Relax.

Desmond knew Franklin would live a long life.

He just doesn’t want to be part of it.

Oh, look, it was the Assassin from before.

Huh.

He looked different.

Doesn’t matter to Desmond.

Goodbye, Franklin. Thank you for the letter of recommendation!

.

Good news! He got his own bakery!

The rent was cheap and the neighborhood was alright.

Things were looking good.

.

Bad news! The landlord apparently died and the new landlord is a dick.

The rent has gone up.

Desmond’s bakery was still doing good so he can take the hit.

He’d just have to postpone any experiments he has planned to make pastries and bread he remembered from his time but don’t exactly remember the ingredients for now.

.

Well, fuck.

His bakery has apparently gotten the attention of Washington.

Why?

He has no idea.

But if he was going to make a guess. Some of Franklin’s servants would regularly buy bread from him so that old man must have been talking to some people.

But seriously.

Why the hell was Washington even buying bread himself?

Doesn’t he have servants to do that for him?

It… does not bode well for the future of Desmond’s bakery.

.

As he had expected…

So asshole landlord was loyal to the British Crown and, since it appeared that George Washington was now a fucking regular (what is this life, seriously???), that must mean Desmond was one of them.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

And now he’s getting evicted without even getting his goddamn stuff?

Oh, to hell with that.

“What are you doing?”

Desmond turned to stare at Ratonhnhaké:ton who was suddenly standing just behind him, watching him dangle with one leg on the other side of the window of his no-longer-his bakery.

“Uuuhh… I’m not robbing the place?”

Ratonhnhaké:ton just stared at him.

“My asshole landlord kicked me out without letting me pack my things and chained the doors so I can’t get in.”

“I see… Would you like me to retrieve the key then?”

Tempting.

Desmond was pretty sure if he just adds a bit of waterworks, he can ask Ratonhnhaké:ton to beat the crap out of that asshole for him.

Again, Desmond was trying to be a pacifist this time around.

So violence doesn’t count if he’s not the one throwing hands.

“Nah. He’d just come back and get some goons to kick me out again…”

Desmond paused for a moment before he asked…

“If you have the time… mind helping me pack my entire life into small sad boxes?”

“I will find a big box we can use.”

“Thank you-” Desmond stopped himself before he could say Ratonhnhaké:ton’s name. He smiled as he asked, “What’s your name? If you’re helping me do some B&E, we should atleast know each other’s name. My name’s Desmond.”

“Connor.” Ratonhnhaké:ton replied.

“Okay, Connor.” Desmond said, although it felt a bit awkward not calling him by his real name, “Thanks.”

.

Desmond’s entire life fitted a small wagon that can easily be carried by a donkey.

Was that sad?

Or was this a sign that he was a minimalist?

To be fair, most of his belongings were stuff he used for baking.

Desmond sighed, “Guess I have to look for a new place to set up shop now.”

Maybe he’d cash in on Washington’s weird favoritism and rent a place with a landlord who hates the monarchy.

“I might know a place.” Ratonhnhaké:ton said as he stared at Desmond, “If you have no other place to go… perhaps…”

Was he…

Oh, he was asking Desmond to go to the homestead.

Well…

To be fair…

The homestead would definitely be peaceful.

Profit would probably not be as good as how it was here in the city though.

Then again…

It was never about the profit anyway.

Desmond turned to grin at Ratonhnhaké:ton as he said, “I’d love to.”

.

Peace.

This was what Desmond wanted.

Waking up early, making freshly baked bread for the people of the homestead.

Spending a few minutes with each one just to talk about how yesterday went.

Checking the surrounding areas for things he could use as ingredients for his experiments.

Making sure his garden was thriving and waiting for the fruits and vegetables that he’d use on his experiments.

Giving sweetbreads and puddings to his little visitors who always bring him berries and other ingredients they find or their parents give them in exchange for the snack.

Ah.

This was the life.

(I tried to make this sound like Desmond’s ranting without turning it to 1st POV. I hope it was okay XD)

[dannyreviews]

Veteran British born/based film/TV actors born before and including 1937 still alive:

With the recent death of Dame Maggie Smith, I thought I'd detail the legendary actors of UK cinema and television that are still living as of the date of this post:

Eileen Bennett (b. 1919)

Beulah Garrick (b. 1921)

Elizabeth Kelly (b. 1921)

Elisabeth Kirkby (b. 1921)

Sara Luzita (b. 1922)

Annabel Maule (b. 1922)

Paul Harding (b. 1923)

Vincent Ball (b. 1923)

David Lawton (b. 1923)

Anne Vernon (b. 1924)

Donald Pelmear (b. 1924)

Laurie Webb (b. 1924)

Thelma Ruby (b. 1925)

Pete Murray (b. 1925)

Michael Beint (b. 1925)

Shelia Mitchell (b. 1925)

Kerima (b. 1925)

David Attenborough (b. 1926)

Elizabeth Benson (b. 1926)

Margaret Barton (b. 1926)

Terry Kilburn (b. 1926)

Stanley Baxter (b. 1926)

David Frankham (b. 1926)

William Glover (b. 1926)

Josephine Stuart (b. 1926)

Patricia Davidson (b. 1926)

Barbara Clegg (b. 1926)

Glen Michael (b. 1926)

Araby Lockhart (b. 1926)

Eileen Page (b. 1926)

Rosemary Harris (b. 1927)

Cleo Laine (b. 1927)

Lee Montague (b. 1927)

Genevieve Page (b. 1927)

Neville Phillips (b. 1927)

Jean Lodge (b. 1927)

Barbara Ashcroft (b. 1927)

Jill Freud (b. 1927)

Jean Southern (b. 1927)

Antonia Pemberton (b. 1927)

Peter Cellier (b. 1928)

Jeanette Landis (b. 1928)

Sheila Ballantine (b. 1928)

Dorothea Phillips (b. 1928)

Jeannie Carson (b. 1928)

Hazel Ascot (b. 1928)

Brenda Hogan (b. 1928)

Philip Guard (b. 1928)

Raymond Llewelyn (b. 1928)

Pauline Brailsford (b. 1928)

Leonard Weir (b. 1928)

Kevin Scott (b. 1928)

Tony Hughes (b. 1928)

Joan Plowright (b. 1929)

Patricia Routledge (b. 1929)

Colin Jeavons (b. 1929)

Michael Craig (b. 1929)

Thelma Barlow (b. 1929)

Peter Myers (b. 1929)

Paul Williamson (b. 1929)

John Gale (b. 1929)

Phillip Ross (b. 1929)

Jimmy Fagg (b. 1929)

Hazel Phillips (b. 1929)

Mignon Elkins (b. 1929)

Margaret Stallard (b. 1929)

Maya Koumani (b. 1929)

Clive Revill (b. 1930)

Charles Kay (b. 1930)

Roy Evans (b. 1930)

Una McLean (b. 1930)

Roddy Maude-Roxby (b. 1930)

Ruth Trouncer (b. 1930)

Cyril Appleton (b. 1930)

Vera Frances (b. 1930)

Gary Watson (b. 1930)

Keith Alexander (b. 1930)

Libby Morris (b. 1930)

Pauline Jefferson (b. 1930)

Claire Bloom (b. 1931)

Leslie Caron (b. 1931)

Carroll Baker (b. 1931)

Virginia McKenna (b. 1931)

Vivian Pickles (b. 1931)

Stanley Meadows (b. 1931)

Gerald Harper (b. 1931)

Patricia Greene (b. 1931)

Ellen McIntosh (b. 1931)

Elvi Hale (b. 1931)

Maureen Connell (b. 1931)

June Laverick (b. 1931)

James Martin (b. 1931)

Denyse Alexander (b. 1931)

Arthur Nightingale (b. 1931)

Eileen Derbyshire (b. 1931)

Carl Held (b. 1931)

Shelia Bernette (b. 1931)

George Eugeniou (b. 1931)

Corinne Skinner-Carter (b. 1931)

Tusse Silberg (b. 1931)

Petula Clark (b. 1932)

Prunella Scales (b. 1932)

Phyllida Law (b. 1932)

Ray Cooney (b. 1932)

Brian Murphy (b. 1932)

Edward De Souza (b. 1932)

Alan Dobie (b. 1932)

John Turner (b. 1932)

Roland Curram (b. 1932)

Gabriel Woolf (b. 1932)

Johnnie Wade (b. 1932)

Eileen Moore (b. 1932)

Laurie Leigh (b. 1932)

William Roache (b. 1932)

Athol Fugard (b. 1932)

Carmen Munroe (b. 1932)

Norman Bowler (b. 1932)

Marcia Ashton (b. 1932)

Thelma Holt (b. 1932)

Antony Carrick (b. 1932)

Sally Bazely (b. 1932)

Michael Caine (b. 1933)

Joan Collins (b. 1933)

Sian Phillips (b. 1933)

Sheila Hancock (b. 1933)

Elizabeth Seal (b. 1933)

Shani Willis (b. 1933)

Patrick Godfrey (b. 1933)

Caroline Blakiston (b. 1933)

Donald Douglas (b. 1933)

Ann Firbank (b. 1933)

Vera Day (b. 1933)

Tsai Chin (b. 1933)

Geoffrey Frederick (b. 1933)

Marla Landi (b. 1933)

Monte Landis (b. 1933)

Mary Germaine (b. 1933)

Ruth Posner (b. 1933)

Barbara Archer (b. 1933)

W.B. Brydon (b. 1933)

Robert Gillespie (b. 1933)

Brian Patton (b. 1933)

Arthur White (b. 1933)

Barbara Archer (b. 1933)

Sally Bazley (b. 1933)

Madhur Jaffrey (b. 1933)

Jeanette Sterke (b. 1933)

Ann Rogers (b. 1933)

Barbara Knox (b. 1933)

John Boorman (b. 1933)

Derek Martin (b. 1933)

Michael Aspel (b. 1933)

Bill Edwards (b. 1933)

Judi Dench (b. 1934)

Eileen Atkins (b. 1934)

Tom Baker (b. 1934)

Alan Bennett (b. 1934)

Jean Marsh (b. 1934)

Annette Crosbie (b. 1934)

Wendy Craig (b. 1934)

Richard Chamberlain (b. 1934)

Millicent Martin (b. 1934)

John Standing (b. 1934)

Vernon Dobtcheff (b. 1934)

Nanette Newman (b. 1934)

David Burke (b. 1934)

Christopher Benjamin (b. 1934)

Mary Peach (b. 1934)

Geraldine Newman (b. 1934)

Renny Lister (b. 1934)

Priscilla Morgan (b. 1934)

Audrey Dalton (b. 1934)

Leila Hoffman (b. 1934)

Simone Lovell (b. 1934)

Magda Miller (b. 1934)

Robert Aldous (b. 1934)

Ram John Holder (b. 1934)

Jamila Massey (b. 1934)

Margaretta D’Arcy (b. 1934)

Leslie Saeward (b. 1934)

Maurice Podbrey (b. 1934)

Steve Emerson (b. 1934)

Peter Bland (b. 1934)

Michael Darlow (b. 1934)

Barbara Archer (b. 1934)

Joy Webster (b. 1934)

Jacqueline Ellis (b. 1934)

Jacqueline Jones (b. 1934)

Julie Andrews (b. 1935)

Julian Glover (b. 1935)

Jim Dale (b. 1935)

Anne Reid (b. 1935)

James Bolam (b. 1935)

Christina Pickles (b. 1935) 

Judy Parfitt (b. 1935)

Wanda Ventham (b. 1935)

Amanda Barrie (b. 1935)

Derren Nesbitt (b. 1935)

Nadim Swalha (b. 1935)

Gary Raymond (b. 1935)

Janet Henfrey (b. 1935)

Melvyn Hayes (b. 1935)

Susan Engel (b. 1935)

Amanda Walker (b. 1935)

Delena Kidd (b. 1935)

Derek Partridge (b. 1935)

Allister Bain (b. 1935)

Derry Power (b. 1935)

Phyllis MacMahon (b. 1935)

Rowena Cooper (b. 1935)

Derek Partridge (b. 1935)

Jill Dixon (b. 1935)

Des Keough (b. 1935)

Barbara Angell (b. 1935)

Lucille Soong (b. 1935)

Anita West (b. 1935)

June Watson (b. 1935)

David Daker (b. 1935)

Shirley Cain (b. 1935)

Bobby Pattinson (b. 1935)

George Roubicek (b. 1935)

Brian Blessed (b. 1936)

Richard Wilson (b. 1936)

Tommy Steele (b. 1936)

Edward Petherbridge (b. 1936) 

Ursula Andress (b. 1936)

John Leyton (b. 1936)

Jess Conrad (b. 1936)

Elizabeth Shepherd (b. 1936)

Sandra Voe (b. 1936)

Doug Sheldon (b. 1936)

John Golightly (b. 1936)

Peter Ellis (b. 1936)

Andria Lawrence (b. 1936)

Jon Laurimore (b. 1936)

Tony Scoggo (b. 1936)

Barry MacGregor (b. 1936)

Frank Barrie (b. 1936)

Kenneth Farrington (b. 1936)

Eileen McCallum (b. 1936)

Frederick Pyne (b. 1936)

Philip Lowrie (b. 1936)

Marian Diamond (b. 1936)

Anthony Higginson (b. 1936)

Elsie Kelly (b. 1936)

Ann Taylor (b. 1936)

Heidi Erich (b. 1936)

Keith Faulkner (b. 1936)

Ruth Meyers (b. 1936)

Julia Blake (b. 1936)

Anthony Hopkins (b. 1937)

Edward Fox (b. 1937)

Vanessa Redgrave (b. 1937)

Tom Courtenay (b. 1937)

Steven Berkoff (b. 1937)

Susan Hampshire (b. 1937)

Barbara Steele (b. 1937)

Shirley Eaton (b. 1937)

Kenneth Colley (b. 1937)

Ian Hogg (b. 1937)

Sheila Reid (b. 1937)

Valerie Singleton (b. 1937)

Suzy Kendall (b. 1937)

Gawn Grainger (b. 1937)

Tom Georgeson (b. 1937)

Alan Rothwell (b. 1937)

Michael Knowles (b. 1937)

Jocelyn Lane (b. 1937)

Michael Kilgarriff (b. 1937)

Clifton Jones (b. 1937)

Paul Collins (b. 1937)

Anna Dawson (b. 1937)

Marlene Sidaway (b. 1937)

Jeremy Spenser (b. 1937)

Freddie Davies (b. 1937)

Justine Lord (b. 1937)

Davyd Harries (b. 1937)

Hugh Futcher (b. 1937)

Anne Cunningham (b. 1937)

Anne Aubrey (b. 1937)

Vic Taliban (b. 1937)

Dorothy Paul (b. 1937)

Denis Tuohy (b. 1937)

Claire Neilson (b. 1937)

Patricia Collins (b. 1937)

Jan Waters (b. 1937)

Dorothy Paul (b. 1937)

Brian Grellis (b. 1937)

Kenneth Alan Taylor (b. 1937)

Yvonne Buckingham (b. 1937)

Eileen Helsby (b. 1937)

Ray Donn (b. 1937)

Terrence Scammell (b. 1937)

Pauline Devaney (b. 1937)

Rosie Bannister (b. 1937)

Jeanne Roland (b. 1937)

William Gaunt (b. 1937)

Rosaleen Linehan (b. 1937)

Norman Coburn (b. 1937)

[thats-by-the-by]

Not Realizing They're Injured

This fic was crossposted on Ao3. Find it Here. Mind the tags.

Connor races through the snow, running from the patrol. Not just British troops - English Templars too, sent by the London brotherhood to further destabilize the colonies. Haytham had said that the Templars wanted the colonists to win - but London sent their Templars anyways. And while Connor had dispatched most of them - he's one person. He's only one man.

So he runs through the snow, set on loosing his pursuers in the trees, in the branches that he jumps around. Once he makes it back to the homestead, he can sink into the seat besides the fire in the tavern. Warm his bones.

But he just can't loose them.

A bullet whizzes past his head, and the bark shatters and splints too close to his eyes. It's luck. It's a blessing. It's intervention.

It's a branch snapping under him, and the feeling of air rushing past his ears as he falls into the snow.

Connor gasps as the air rushes out of his lungs, the whiplash from hitting the ground making his head spin. He just needs to rest. He just needs five minutes. It hurts, everything hurts.

An excited shout echoes through the trees, and Connor reluctantly pulls himself to his feet. He's tired - but not tired enough to die lying in the snow. Not tired enough to die here. Not tired enough to die any time soon.

The idea of a fire, roaring in the stones of a fireplace and making the room flicker orange, gold and red, keeps him on his feet. Keeps him moving. Even with his fall - his head spinning lightly, his back twinging with pain - Connor wades through the snow quickly, trying to make it to the road. He's so close. He's nearly home.

The bark of dogs grow louder behind him as he finally reaches the road, taking flight up the mountain. He's no safer on the road than in the trees - in all honesty, he might be safer in the branches and the canopy than out in the open, stuck on the ground - but his lungs ache with the effort to race higher and higher as his pursuers grow closer and closer.

He should have lost them by now.

It's not impossible to track him, to trace him through the trees - especially in the middle of winter, especially if he's forced to wade through the snow - but in the branches it's hard to tell if he is the cause of the shifting branches, or if it's simply one of the animals who call the trees their home. He's lost far smarter people in those branches.

He can't stay on the ground. He can't lead them back to the homestead, can't risk more people's lives.

But he's tired. His heart thrums in his chest, jack-rabbiting away. He needs help, he can't do this alone. Not right now. He needs to rest. He's twenty years old, an adult by all means. He's tired. He needs to loose them.

He's twenty years old, and he is not going to die here.

"Connor!" David shouts, running down the path to him. "What's happened?"

"I'm being chased." Connor admits, his head spinning. "Two men, with dogs. They're British."

"We'll take care of him, Norris, can you-"

"I'll get him to Lyle." Norris agrees readily, putting one of Connor's arms around his shoulders. "Be safe."

"We will." Myriam smiles. "Remember to get Achilles, don't let the old man worry."

"Why would he worry?" Connor asks. "The British will be dealt with, why are you taking me to Doctor White?"

"Connor," Terry says gently. "You've left a pretty bright path behind you."

"What?"

"Don't beat around the bush, Terry." Godfrey says, pulling out his pistol. "You're bleeding, Connor. Pretty badly. You'll need stitches and a prayer to hope its not infected. We've got this, go with Norris."

Connor staggers away as his friends pull their weapons, aiming it down the trail of blood Connor continues to leave behind. They're Templars. They're his problem. Connor's back aches as his head spins more and more, and sleep takes him before he can even work out whats bleeding.

The dark is warm and comforting.

[urara04]

One more time

There was more time in the evening, so another post because i have a batshit memory

"EYYYYYY SECOND LOCKPICK MISSION- IT WASN'T JUST WITH HAYTHAM" (the lockpicking really is underused in this game)

"How do we make money?" explains the Homestead mechanic "Are we even an Assassin?" "Wdym" "Well we do carpentry, we do saving, we do all this stuff but not actual Assassin stuff."

Playing and climbing in the trees like a kid (it's adorable)

Godfrey yelling for help "??? go help him???" "I'm reading, he'll be fine" eats his pistachio in peace

Gets attacked by a wolf while running for Terry

Dies

"Can you, like, die a little bit more quietly?" has redone this mission half a dozen times

"I'll miss the peace and quiet, but we could use the wood." "WE COULD USE THE WOOD??? I'M GONNA USE THE WOOD WDYMMMMM"

"YOU WANTED ME TO BUILD A SHACK AND NOW A BOAT???"

"No wonder I'm seeing bananas everywhere I'm a fucking MINION"

Robert Faulker, captain: "Come on, grab the wheel. She won't bite." Both of us, at the same time: "I will"

HE JUST. WALKS UP TO BENJAMIN CHURCH. WITH "Where is Charles Lee." WHILE ON AN EXCURSION. MY BOY. THERE ARE BETTER WAYS ABOUT THIS.

His little voice breaks. are so. ADORABLE.

"That's not a drone that's a FIDGET SPINNER"

"STOP MARKING YOUR TERRITORY EVERYWHERE, DESMOND!!!"

"This game reminds me of Spiderman"

[easthigh]

MEG AND MILO'S EXCLUSIVE FIRST LOOK AT THE NEW ZOMBIES: THE RE-ANIMATED SERIES | New series coming to Disney Channel 21 July, 2023

"ZOMBIES: The Re-Animated Series Shorts" is an animated short-form series that continues the adventures of fan favorites Zed, Addison and the Seabrook crew from the hit "ZOMBIES" franchise. The shorts, which keep the spirit and jam-packed music of the movies, find the friends encountering new monsters—a carnivorous plant monster, horrifying mega-cricket and even evil clones—while dealing with school and new experiences like a never-ending summer time-loop.

Reprising their roles are Ariel Martin, Chandler Kinney and Pearce Joza as werewolves Wynter, Willa and Wyatt; Carla Jeffery and Trevor Tordjman as cheerleaders Bree and Bucky; Jonathan Langdon as Coach; James Godfrey and Kylee Russell as zombies Bonzo and Eliza; and Terry Hu as outer space alien A-Spen. (via Disney Channel on YouTube)

[selkiestudies]

Hypothetically, you are only able to keep 20 of your books. Only one book per author/series. So what books are you keeping?

Oooh!! Thanks for tagging me @fluencylevelfrench ! This is so hard omg… okay here we go:

The color of magic by Terry Pratchett

Tigerlily by Jodi Lynn Anderson

The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton

Uprooted by Naomi Novik

The Council of Mirrors by Michael Buckley

The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green

American Gods by Noel Gaiman

Hamlet by William Shakespeare

The Green Book by Jill Paton Walsh

The Dorito Effect by Mark Schatzker

Other Minds by Peter Godfrey-Smith

Refuse by Julian Randall

The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales of Fred, the Vampire Accountant by Drew Hayes

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

The Princess Bride by William Goldman

The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher

Eurydice by Sarah Ruhl

Where the Mountain Meets the Moon by Grace Lin

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

The Whale Rider by Witi Ihimaera

I tag @bennistudies @alexistudies and anyone else who wants to do it!!

[adarafaelbarba]

Who do I write for?

Law and Order SVU and other Law and Order shows

Sonny Carisi

Rafael Barba

Mike Dodds

Nick Amaro

Kat Tamin

Peter Stone

Hasim Khaldun

Grace Muncy

Rita Calhoun

Toni Churlish

Joe Velasco

Mike Duarte

Jamie Whelan

Bobby Reyes

Nolan Price

Frank Cosgrove

Jet Slootmaekers

Samantha Maroun

Terry Bruno

~~~

Raúl Esparza Characters

Frederick Chilton

Bryan Kneef

Nevada Ramirez

Jackson Neill

Jonas Nightingale

~~~

Chicago PD

Jay Halstead (Could also be Will if you want)

Antonio Dawson

Adam Ruzek

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz

Dante Torres

Vanessa Rojas

Kevin Atwater

Sean Roman

~~~

Chicago Fire

Matt Casey

Kelly Severide

Joe Cruz

Sylvie Brett

Blake Gallo

Christopher Hermann

"Mouch"

Otis

~~~

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Literally any of the Avengers

~~~

Mayans MC

Angel Reyes

Miguel

Bishop

Coco

Nestor

~~~

A Discovery of Witches

Matthew

Diana

Baldwin (specify if you want old or new Baldwin)

Gallowglass

Marcus

Phoebe

Miriam

Dominico

Ransome

Geraldine

Philippe

Ysabeau

Louis

Louisa

Verin

Freyja

Stasia

Hugh

Godfrey

Sarah

Em

Peter

Gerbert

Benjamin

Father Hubbard

~~~

Sherlock:

Greg Lestrade

Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Moriarty

Molly

~~~

Kingsman:

Merlin

Harry

Whiskey

Eggsy

Roxy

Lancelot/James Spencer

Percival/Alastair

~~~

The Rookie:

Lucy Chen

Tim Bradford

Celina Juarez

Aaron Thorsen

Nyla Harper

Angela Lopez

Wesley Evers

~~~

911 / 911 lone star:

Athena Grant

Bobby Nash

Henrietta "Hen" Wilson

Evan "Buck" Buckley

Eddie Diaz

Howie "Chimney" Han

Ravi Panikkar

T.K. Strand

Owen Strand

Carlos Reyes

Marjan Marwani

Paul Strickland

Tommy Vega

Judson "Judd" Ryder

Grace Ryder

Nancy Gillian

Mateo Chavez

[godfrey-the-chaos-duck]

Hello Godfrey!! I hope your ides of march is going well <3!! Just asking about 3, 15, and 17 on the identity ask page!

Weeeeeeeee yessss

3: List your fandoms and one character from each that you identify with

DuckTales - Scrooge McDuck (I have trouble asking for help when I need it)

Good Omens - Aziraphale (I love books, history, tea and classical music)

Gravity Falls - Ford Pines (Outcast kid in school for sooooo long)

15: Five most influential books over your lifetime

The Horrible Histories books by Terry Deary

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (well duh)

Wonder by RJ Palacio

Can You See Me? by Libby Scott and Rebecca Westcott

My collection of medical books from when I was younger and anatomy/medicine was my special interest

17: Would you say your Tumblr is a fair representation of the Real You?

Yeah I guess. I mean there's things I don't put here cause I wanna wait till I'm a published author first, and what have you, but yeah