#there's a great story about him that i'm saving for an email

[emailsfromanactor]

Related to the Cast of Hamlet (1964) in Musicals posts, this is Robert Burr, sometime Bernardo and Richard Burton's understudy, singing an expurgated version of "Brush Up Your Shakespeare" from Kiss Me, Kate with Florence Henderson (best known as Carol Brady from The Brady Bunch, but also a musical theatre star). It's from an episode of The Bell Telephone Hour that aired on August 11, 1964, just a few days after Hamlet closed. Unfortunately the "straight Shakespearean scene" that Henderson refers to doesn't seem to be available online, but we do get to see Burr do a teeny tiny bit of Hamlet!

At this point Burr already had musical experience - in 1947-48 he was in the chorus of a revival of The Cradle Will Rock, with Alfred Drake as Larry Foreman. I'll discuss his further musical career in another post!

[madamecaos]

The Howling

AU Werewolf Mafia: F|Reader x AU Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Synopsis: You move to a new town and the people there are just... strange.

Warning: 18+ Mature in next chapters, Lil Gore, Mate-Trope, Alpha-Omega trope, Angst, Overall Violence and Dark Themes

A/N: This is me, avoiding my other WIPs so I can pantsy-through another story that I'm not sure how to plot. Well, I couldn’t decide between Werewolves or Mafia AU, so here’s both.

It was known.

The first night of a full moon after Winter Solstice, every citizen of the little town had to bar their doors, stay inside and hope that sunrise received them unscathed. Otherwise, the victims of little Arcadea wouldn’t come to save you from the mauling beasts. Everyone knew you weren’t meant to go outside.

If only you had known that beasts also lurked in the daylight.

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You were new in town. The aftermath of a bad relationship and a great offer of a remote position gave you freedom enough to move to a new place. As long as you had Wi-Fi, you could work. When the opportunity arose in a niche little town, away from the city and surrounded by a sea of woodland, you took it. Anything to place miles and miles between you and your psychotic ex was a great offer.

A ride an hour away from the city was an improvement. Anything was.

But despite the cute little cafes and the upcoming Christmas festivities, the town didn’t receive you with open arms. The locals weren’t gracious to newcomers, so you did everything possible to not intrude.

That’s why you found yourself hiding in the little library, staking claim of your little corner with a watered-down coffee between your hands. It was lukewarm, but enough to stave away the chilling breeze coming from the open doors. Aside from the fact that this was the only place with decent Wi-Fi, it was comfortable and quiet.

Kate, the local librarian, could be heard chatting away as the truck backed up near the entrance. Tuesday meant that new books were coming in. And Tuesday meant that the delivery guy would burst your quiet bubble any second now.

You hadn’t been here a full month and you already felt like you knew too much about him.

Soap was chatty and had a smile too wide that didn’t match your grumpiness. And what kind of name was Soap?

Without looking up, you heard his footsteps. You imagined that he skipped your way, going by the obnoxious clatter of his keys and whatever else he had in his pockets.

Maybe you needed more caffeine to be nicer, you thought as your temples pulsed with an upcoming headache. It was something inexplicable, but whenever Soap came near your instincts went haywire. The urge to be defensive and argumentative rose within you like a second nature.

“New Lass,” he called you, almost cheering. You rolled your eyes at the nickname he donned you with as you refused to give him your name. It seemed that you acting wary of men made him think he had to try and get on your good side, the tough way, by being annoyingly too cheery. To add to your annoyance, your reactions only incited him more.

“Got ya’ more books. Want to see the new batch?” He asked too loudly with excitement, and you winced. “Oh, my bad. Inside voice.” He half-apologized, shrugging with a smile still plastered on his annoying features.

You were just… annoyed.

You took in his outfit. His usual black overall was replaced by dark jeans and a light jacket. Even his mohawk was not covered by the usual beanie, which prompted you to ask him something finally. “Going on a vacation?”

His clothing was not meant for the blistering cold outside.

“Wow,” Soap placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “Oh, New Lass. I thought you were mute.”

“Selective,” you answered shortly, then looked down to pretend to write an email. You hoped he took the hint but going by the lack of screeching chair at his usual loud departure, he was still sitting in front of you.

His shoulders shook in silent laughter, and you questioned him with merely a risen eyebrow. “You would get along with my boss. You two would be a party.”

At your frown, he explained, “Silent and grumpy.”

“Soap!” Someone called from the entrance, allowing you peace as he walked away with a wave. What an odd man.

“See ya, New Lass.” Without turning back, he answered just as gruffly to the person that had demanded his attention, an attitude he had never directed at you despite your unwelcoming brashness. You couldn’t hear the rest, them being too far away.

Peace and quiet drove away the turmoil that usually came along with Soap’s presence, but your temples still pulsed with a surging headache.

“20 years less and I would,” Kate sighed as she closed the door with a click, looking through the glass doors as the truck drove away. Finally, warmth permeated the library again.

“Would what?” You asked and Kate looked at you like you were dense. Well, you kind of were.

“I don’t go for the young ones, but maybe Soap can be an exception,” As realization dawned at what she implied, Kate held in her amusement behind her titivating grin.

“Aren’t you married?”

“Like that has to do anything with it,” Kate rolled her eyes playfully and you ignored the uncomfortable thought of loyalty being so casually dismissed. Again, another reaction you had to thank your ex.  “And you? No man back home that calls you lass?”

The wiggle in her eyebrows brought you a little out of your dark cloud. “No, no man for me.”

You went back to your screen, ignoring the understanding look from Kate.

“Ah, we all came to Arcadea to escape from something,” she said, salvaging what little conversation you had with her. You weren’t exactly social, and amongst the locals, she was the most welcoming one. But that all made sense when she mentioned she was a foreigner as well, married her husband and was brought to the little town where she founded her dream little bookshop.

That might explain the why and how the place stood afloat, seeing as you were the only customer you had seen inside. What you didn’t have a theory for was the mysterious merchandise of books she received weekly, and yet the contents of the library hadn’t changed once.

Soap looked nice and approachable, but the gruffness, tattoos and bulking arms convinced you that it was not smart to ask. The curling instinct you had adopted from the big city told you he was not merely a delivery boy. But it was none of your business, or so you repeated to yourself every time something odd happened in little Arcadea.

And it was a lot.

“You ok there, love?” Kate asked as you stared ahead, lost in thought.

“I think I’m clocking out early,” You stretched in your chair, closing the laptop. “This migraine calls for a long nap.”

“All right, hope you feel better!” Kate called out as you made your way to the exit. Until she left you with a parting advice.

“Oh, and y/n” She started, the lack of endearment calling for your attention. You turned, expecting the common cheery demeanor one can expect from Kate. Instead, the hardened glance made you freeze. The grim expression seamlessly bleeding away the woman you had been getting to know these past few weeks. This was a stranger standing in front of you. “Don’t go out tonight.”

Without any chance of asking for an explanation, the happy demeanor returned, and Kate left you gaping at the entrance as she hummed away to the back of the store.

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She surely had meant ‘go out’ as ‘hang out’, right? You weren’t exactly friendly with the locals yet, only a few.  Kate was paranoid and you were starving. And it was Tuesday. Nothing happened on Tuesdays.

After sleeping away the headache for what felt like days, you woke up parched and ready to eat a whole three course meal. The migraine had ceased enough for you to see without flinching at every little light, but you knew that if you didn’t eat soon, it would worsen. So still in pijamas, with fuzzy boots and a big hoodie to complete the look, you went out into the cold with your phone, cash and your keys.

The diner across the block closed late, at least late enough for you to eat. And if it fit the mood, you might aim for a milkshake, you thought as you headed into the center of the town.

As you walked, you hugged yourself to stave away the breeze weaving through the trees. The woodland was so close to the town you could hear the leaves moving, its hushing billowing out through the deserted streets.

The cold painted your breath in huffs, your distance to the diner decreasing. But as you kept your pace, you couldn’t help but recognize the unusual solace of the roads. They were devoid of life, vendors already settled down for the night. 

Your footsteps on gravel were the only sounds disrupting the silence, but even without any more sounds, the eerie feeling of someone staring at you made you walk faster.

Nothing could’ve told you someone was staring at you but your intuition, your paranoia getting the best of you. You snapped your head back, hoping that your fear was only induced by the darkness. The weathered headlamps were enough to let you confirm that you were wrong. No one was there, no shadows followed you. With nothing to show for, you kept walking, pace hurrying nonetheless.

The bell on the door charmed at your entrance. It was quiet, oddly so. You were often received by the boisterous waitress that covered the nightshift. She made the best lattes and made you laugh, getting you away from your shy nature.

All worn booths were empty as you sat in your preferred corner, read the menu that you’ve read a thousand times before, and looked around. It was odd that you hadn’t seen nor heard the waitress yet.

The restaurant looked empty, abandoned even. So with courage, you stood up and sat at the bar, ringing the bell for service. Right now, you would do anything for crumbs.

“Hi, dear,” the waitress whose name tag read as Darla, gave you a hurried smile. “I’m sorry, but we’re closing early today.”

“Please,” Yes, you resorted to begging. “I’m starving. Just the usual.”

“I-“ she stuttered. “The kitchen is already closed. The cook clocked out early.”

At the last word, the entrance bell chimed behind you, making you turn curiously. You felt the breeze, you heard the bell and you heard the door closing… but there was no one there. All tables were as empty when you arrived.

You turned back to face the waitress. The question in your lips stopped mid track at her expression. Her dark complexion had gone white, eyes wide eyed and petrified.

“Make the girl a plate.”

A low rumbling voice said from behind you, and you saw fear bleed into Darla’s expression.

You looked back immediately to your right, your gaze clashing with broad shoulders first, biceps bulging beneath a tight fitted black shirt. It seemed as if his height went on and on as your head tilted upwards, taking in the broadness of the looming man dressed as walking death.

Dark eyes beneath a skull mask perilously studied you. His stare unflinching, unmoving, as your heart made its way to your throat with fear… and something else. Something odd and uncanny made the hairs on the back of your neck rise. The sensation of someone chasing you confused you. You were sitting still, and he hadn’t made himself an obvious threat, despite the oddity of his mask in the middle of a local dinner.  Your mind spun at the lack of sense, your heart wildly beating, pinned beneath his stare. While petrified on the stool, your body slowly but surely felt heat rise, perspiration building along your temples as if you had already ran a mile.

That damned migraine came back tenfold, and you still sat there, looking up like a deer in headlights, eyes threatening to scrunch at the buzzing lights. If you were to look away first, he would take it as you submitting to whatever fear was taking ahold of you. You kept silent, holding in your gasps of air. 

What is this? Who was he?

Somehow, he had walked behind you so silently and so fast, you hadn’t seen him enter. He had crossed half the diner in seconds, landing at the opposite side of you. Something you wanted to believe was impossible, but here he was.

He was the first to break eye contact, allowing air into your lungs. All the odd warming sensations stopped at his departure. Without a glance back, he entered the kitchen then pivoted to the exit door, Darla moving away to give him a wide berth of space.

“New cook?” You joked timidly, trying to break the tension of the now fretting waitress. Metal spoons and pans clattered as she filled a foam container with whatever she could find. Her hands shook.

“Go,” Darla whispered with a pointed look, handing you a bag with whatever lukewarm food. At your hesitation to leave her alone, she pushed it to your chest, then motioned you to the door. 

“I can pay-“

Darla side stepped the counter, hands on your shoulders pivoting you to the exit.

“It’s on the house. Now, don’t do anything stupid and stay inside.”

With that, the door clicked hurriedly behind you, not allowing you to turn and ask the million questions you had for her.

You were at odds with yourself as you stared at your dark reflection on the glass door. 

On one hand, you wanted peace. It was the main reason you came to this town for, and asking the right or wrong questions often led you into more problems. But on the other hand, a huge man with a skull mask with an in-defensive woman didn’t bode well. And the panic in her eyes made you repeat the interaction over and over again. 

Darla shut off the lights as she went back to the kitchen, leaving you standing at the closed entrance of the now dark restaurant.

You debated if it was worth it calling the police, or if that fell under the list of what Darla deemed as something stupid.

Holding the bag to yourself as you walked back to your apartment in a hurry, you ignored Darla’s warnings. You’d rather bet on the ‘stupid’ but safe option and put in an anonymous tip. The receiver sounded bored, nonchalant even, not caring that a woman was alone in her job with a strange man. The interaction didn’t go as planned, especially when the person you spoke with treated you as if you were insane and not something to believe. The conversation turned oddly quiet when they asked you to describe the man, the mention of a ‘skull mask’ twisting their questions into more personal ones.

Who are you? What’s your name? What’s your place of residence?

 You hung up.

You did what you could, right? At least Darla’s danger won’t fully fall into your consciousness, you tried to convince yourself.

But the interaction interrupted whatever you thought of doing that night. You couldn’t concentrate. There was something off-putting that insisted that you had to go back there, but you were astute enough to know that it wasn’t a safe route. As an outlet, you called the restaurant several times, hoping that the internet’s spotty phone number was a true one. No answer. Maybe… just maybe if you saw if Darla was ok, you could rest. Then after assuring her safety, you would be relaxed enough to go back to your own business and hide in your apartment once again. After scarfing down the lukewarm food and pacing over the options, you did something else Darla had mentioned, something she had warned against.

With keys between your knuckles and pepper spray in your pocket, you went back outside. You just wanted to see that Darla wasn’t hurt. One glance and you were out.

This was the moment in horror movies when one would demean the main character for doing something so obviously stupid, you thought as you shivered with adrenaline and uncertainty.

The streets were just as empty as the restaurant, a full moon at its peak providing most light.  The pavement was so dark its reflection bathed the street in white.

As you neared, you slowed your pace and approached cautiously.  You shook the doors by the handles, but they were already locked. That much you already knew… but you’ve seen the odd man going out the other exit.

Cautiously, you tiptoed to the right corner and came around, peeking into the darkness to scope the back of the establishment. This is surely the way you’ll die, you thought with a tight grip of your keys as you rounded the wall. And at the turn, you clashed into something warm, so warm that the hands grasping you back to a wide chest could be felt through all your layers of clothing.

It was almost as if he had materialized from the shadows. Even with whatever minor moonlight shone through, it was not dark enough for you to be completely blind. You should’ve seen him coming.

You pushed the person back with all your strength, but they did nothing but chuckle, still too near for your comfort. At the sound and the familiarity of the creeping sensation crawling up your neck, you relaxed a little.

“Oh lass, I didn’t think it was like that,” Soap goaded, holding you close. “Only one word today and you’re already throwing yourself at me.”

“Get off me,” you shook your arms as you looked around him, behind him. At least, tried to, but he annoyingly planted himself in your line of sight, prohibiting you from searching for another sign of life.

“Hey, attention on me, yeah?” Soap stood closer, presence prompting you back to his attention.

“What are you doing here?” You questioned him, gaze still looking around you. “Where’s Darla?”

“Whose Darla?” Soap mused as he walked forward, forcing you to take steps back. “And I could ask the same.”

“I’m hungry,” you answered quickly, knowing that would be the first excuse you would use if the waitress asked for your intentions by disobeying her warning.

“Something told me you ate,” Soap said as he pointed with a look the red stain on your hoodie. He leaned closer and inhaled. You leaned back and ignored the odd gesture. “Pasta, to be exact.”

“Well, I’m still hungry.”

Seconds passed, and gloom dimmed his grin.

“Ah,” Soap sighed, disappointed. “So you’re the one that called the police.”

You froze, fear chilling the back of your neck. How did he know that? Nervous sweat and an accelerating heart with wide eyes took over you. Annoying Soap wasn’t acting like a child prying for your attention anymore. The seriousness and the slow tilt of his head made him seem as a complete stranger, much like Kate had been.

Had she known the danger of the delivery boy? Was she in on whatever was going on?  

“Oh? Did the police come by?” You asked, thinking that it would be best not to admit anything. “Why would they need to come here?”

Soap’s lips tilted, and not in the amusement you’d been accustomed to. At your struggle to swallow, his sight slowly landed on your throat. His gaze leisurely angled up to your eyes, moonlight catching oddly on his irises.

“Hm,” he took his index finger to his chin, musing into the air mockingly. “What to do with you now.”

He looked down on you, as if he was holding a secret you didn’t know. Deliberating… In a sudden flash, he was beside you, arm around your shoulders back pushing you forward. His proximity jolted you, your temples resurging the headache from earlier.

“Come, It’s time you to meet the boys,” He offered, not leaving you another option.

“What boys? I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m leaving now.” You tried to turn back, but the both of you had already walked to the back where you supposed the dumpsters were.

“This is not a good idea, so I’m leav-“ You tried to say again, but it was too late.

“Look what I found,” Soap said loudly. As you rounded the corner, you blinked at the dim light, the backlight providing enough for you to make out three silhouettes and… maybe a dog in the back? They all looked big, all broad as Soap, but Soap lacked what they had in height.  

The same man that had interrupted you earlier stood the furthest, his imposing shadow drawing perturbing darkness over the bricked wall, swallowing whatever light the moon provided. You could make out his form through the darkness. He was unfazed, unmoving, unlike his counterparts.

His untiring glare pinned you in place again, imposing itself in front of the prowling dusk-like silhouette bleeding away at the corner of your eye.

“What have you done?” One of the other men questioned with despair, genuinely worried at your presence petrified beside Soap. With a hand movement, the motion-sensor light activated, bathing the strangers with a harsh truth, immediately providing you with the information you were lacking. Now you understood Darla’s fear, its sight leaving you breathless.

The man in the skull mask was accompanied by other two, all just as bulky and threatening. The man perturbed at your presence was dressed in casual black just as Soap, the other one dressed in a police uniform. The golden badge caught in the light as the man stood taller, preparing for action, as if to chase you when you imminently ran away.

But your gaze couldn’t really focus on anything else except the dead body laying between them, all men surrounding the corpse. A pool of blood gushed from the cook’s torn neck, a chunk of it missing. You didn’t really know him… had known him.

He had been rude and standoffish, much like the rest of the citizens of the little town, but you really hadn’t seen any action that prompted for death, and a bloody one at that. But again, not knowing much about anyone had led you to this moment, prying for the safety of a stranger.

And now someone was dead, and you might be next. They all stared at you, at your rising panic.

“I didn’t think you would kill him so quickly,” Soap said nonchalantly, and your heart pounded itself into your throat, crawling upwards through your ribcage, preventing you from screaming. He voiced it so casually, as if this was his norm. “And besides, she’s the one that ratted us out.” 

You felt the burn of Soap’s gaze on your profile, his arm around your arm confining. Suffocating.

“Brave for someone so little.”

The one in the police uniform stepped forward slowly, stern look at odds with the amusement in his voice. He might have seemed the oldest with the light mutton chop-beard, or at least the leader, going by the respect in Soap’s expression. As he got nearer, you felt Soap stand straighter. If he was someone Soap respected, he was someone you were to fear. That much you knew.

Their accents were not much like your own.

Your eyes jumped frantically from the body to him, the Sheriff badge pinned to his uniform catching in the light again, giving away his job position. Even with the threat imminently approaching, you also watched around him. The other stranger and the skull mask staring back at you were not forgotten. Too many threats you had to watch out for, you thought as you searched for an exit, for a way to drive away the attention from you.

“Don’t touch me,” You furiously shook Soap’s arm, ducking away, the lack of warmth reminding you of how actually cold it was. Your hurried breaths came out in puffing mist, truly showing them how scared you were. The fingers tightly curled around your keys were wait, fully prepared to drive jam your only weapon into someone’s throat, even if it did nothing but distract. You were determined to die fighting.

As if knowing your intentions, your eyes returned to the man you had briefly met before at his amused huff, the black of his skull mask camouflaging with the darkness behind him. It was almost like you couldn’t help but stare back at death.

Despite being the one standing the farthest away, too still for him to seem preoccupied at your actions, you knew subconsciously he was the biggest threat of them all.

“Hm, pup has teeth,” the Sheriff mused as he frowned, annoyance in his face aimed at Soap.

“And the other one is a yapper,” the one with the skull camouflage retorted, comment aimed at Soap too, his voice again sounding like a grumble in your ears, as if was too low of a sound for you to register.

Instinctively you minutely winced, adrenaline making your pulse jump.

The Sherrif’s ever studying gaze caught the movement, frown turning menacing. “That seems like a problem.”

You waited for him to pounce, to cut your throat as they had done to the one that cooked the best burgers in town. Or at least, for him to command you to start digging your own grave.

Seconds went by and the breeze picked up momentarily. Only the lulling shush of the billowing leaves was heard. You shivered as it hit the back of your neck, flying some of your loose baby hairs to your cheeks.

You wanted to think you were delirious. No matter how subtle the rise of his shoulders, you could tell when he inhaled. As did the others, simultaneously.

The threatening nature of the leader flattened to a blank expression, but his eyes, unmoving from your features, were as intense as your ongoing rising panic. You understood immediate violence, already bracing for whatever they had planned from the moment you saw them. What you didn’t understand was the realization dawning on the other two at the back, nor the proud stance in Soap.

But the Sheriff raised his hands in a placating manner and took a few steps back, submissive, expression now beseeching you to not fear him. The shift in attitude had you gripping your keys between your knuckles harder, thinking it was another tactic to lower your inhibitions.

“Impossible,” the unmasked one at the back whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.

“She’s had a headache for days now,” Soap added the much unnecessary comment. You glared, realizing that he had been observing you too closely, Kate probably spying for him. She was the only one that knew about the headaches.

“Grumpier each time I come near,” Soap added, almost tenderly. At your glare, he grinned. “See?”

“What? Can you shut up?” You sneered, taking more steps back, them allowing it. Almost feeling violated at the fact that you never had any privacy, anger interlaced itself with your never-ending fear. Your shifting mood wouldn’t now stab Soap in fear, but in rage at his grating voice.

“Easy there.”

The one with the mask hummed at the bite in your tone. That rumbling sound again drove your gaze to his like a moth to flame. It was sorely a reminder of your precarious situation, a gravely dangerous one.

You have been here before, trapped with a man that wanted to hurt you, you thought. You thought you escaped from that, that Arcadea was your way out. But as Soap stood near, you realized it was lie, and you might never come back alive this time. Four men and one woman didn’t bode well for other reasons too; you weren’t a stranger to the sins against your flesh either.

“You should smell her,” Soap finally said, humming with pride, not understanding how unsettling it was for you to hear. The creepiness in the comment made you forget about your anger momentarily, your eyes catching the lifeless ones of the cook. Slowly, your gaze drifted upwards, until it landed on now luminescent eyes behind a mask, moonlight reflecting oddly. Even through it, you noticed the harsh frown aimed at you. It spelled danger, and that was enough for you to bolt.

“Soap!”

You pivoted and ran, but just as quickly, you stopped and skidded on pavement. The adrenaline didn’t allow you to feel the shock of you landing on your behind, your hands taking the brunt of the impact as you stared upwards wide-eyed.

There was nowhere to go, and there was no way you could run away from it.

A hulking figure bled from the shadows, rising at its hunches. Snarling teeth, each one the size of your forearm, salivated in a snarling smile. A wolf the size of a two-story house stood amidst the night, hiding the high full moon behind it, taking the sight of your exits with him.

A hand caught you by the back of the hoodie as you crawled back, pulling you up.

“Breathe, lass,” Soap instructed in what he thought was a comforting way, but his grasp along the sight of the nearing beast turned your stomach. “You’re ok.”

“No, Soap!”

Before he could heed his boss’s warnings, Soap’s hand grasped the back of your neck gently. It was the first time he made skin to skin contact, and what a mistake that was.

 Electricity cursed through you painfully and you screeched. It started from the top of your neck then down to your lower back, blinding agony crawling like a shiver down your spine. You fell to your knees, bone clacking with the floor loudly.

“You NEVER touch a dormant, much less her!” The Sheriff ran to your aid, hands hovering yet not daring to touch your shivering form. Something was strangling you from the back, your fingers clawing your throat and the nape of your neck where Soap touched you as you gasped for air.

The daring Sherriff finally grasped your wrists over your sweater, avoiding skin,  preventing you from hurting yourself.

“Breathe through it, love,” he encouraged, hiding away the panic in his voice.

Soap jumped away from you at your scream, looking at his hand blamed for assaulting you.

“What do we do?” The one that mentioned the odd impossibility of your existence also stood near, worried gaze aimed at your hunching form. “We’ve never met an Omega before.”

Perspiration seeped through your clothing, shivers racking all over your body. You now laid down completely, hugging your bruised knees to your chest in fetal position.

A sudden current of unexplained emotions surged through the odd sensations of your body. Almost like not knowing how to pick, your emotions jumped from blinding rage, and oh so suddenly, back to despair then again to happiness. Sobs of overwhelming consciousness were pulled from you against your will. Your hands were freed, allowing you to clutch your head.

“Make it stop,” you begged repetitively through your crying, migraine increasing by the second.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Soap repeated again and again, apologies increasing at your wails.

You covered your ears at his voice, clenching your eyes shut.

“Hush” the gruff man sporting the mask said from the back. “No Beta should speak now.”

They made way as he neared, steps carefully calculated.

Unlike Soap’s voice, the lower rumbling coming from the looming shadow didn’t feel like screeching. His voice almost lulled you from the up and coming anguish caving away in your chest.

“What’s happening to me?” You managed to choke out, your voice feeling like nails trying to crawl up your trachea.

“It will pass soon,” he said, dark eyes intensely focusing on your own. He didn’t kneel beside the others, standing away, hiding your sight from the pacing beast behind his back, almost sensing how uncomfortable it made you. Even through the neutral tone and mask, you noticed how agitated he was at your state. The why and the how of the reason you knew that was lost on you.

“Stop that, you’re making her nervous,” the Sheriff spoke at the beast’s growl, but with a huff, it followed instructions and laid down slowly, as if not to disturb you.

After one last upsurge of overwhelming emotions, it slowly lulled down to a passive wave that you had to fight through. It was almost as if it had drained you, physically and emotionally. You could only stare in a haze at the military boots kneeling beside you.

Minutes followed in silence, allowing you reprieve from your heightened senses as your tears didn’t cease.

“How are you feeling, pup?” The Sherriff asked lowly, scared of disturbing you from your sudden peace. You tried to breathe out an answer, but nothing came out. You laid down there, limp, and exhausted, and yet it was not enough to stave away the need for comfort.

This wasn’t you, but you couldn’t fight the honing focus of your sight. And through your breathing, a scent snapped you up into action, like a string pulling you forward. The men hovering over you leaned back as you raised your head slowly but desperately. It was a need for… you weren’t sure for what.

Without aiming to, your self-preservation was lost amidst the confusion, making you forget all these months where you forced yourself into isolation, away from people and their touch.

You looked around, as if searching for something. The men stared at you bewildered as it called to you, sounding like a faraway howl deafening your usual self. It moved you against your will, it’s rebounding echo merging into a chorus of ravenous animals demanding your presence. The image of snarling teeth right behind your neck snapped into your mind.

Without control of your movements, you clumsily rose to your hands and knees, palms scraping the pavement as you crawled forward. The men shielding you made way, confused at your desperate state. Your gaze roved around, until landing exactly on what you were instinctually searching for, on whom you were called to.

He wasn’t far away, standing close to the comrades kneeling beside you. As you neared slowly, you saw the eyes behind the mask minutely widen.

“Ghost?” the Sheriff asked slowly, given his frozen state at your crumbling form reaching for his ankles. It was almost as if you couldn’t wait to get to him, your hands not knowing if to push you forward or reach for him.

You finally got to the stoic man, grasping his pants by his ankles, pleading at his towering indifference. You pulled and pulled, and a whine was pulled from you when he didn’t move.

Finally, you dared to look up, eyes clashing with amber irises in an intensity that matched the onslaught of sensations you were forced to breathe through earlier. It wasn’t animosity that found you, but shock and confusion, and maybe awe. From your view from the floor, it was almost humbling that a man that size was just as confused as you.

Your eyes watered at the sight of his unmoving form, reaching closer and upwards with the intention to climb him.

“Simon.” Someone sternly called his name, snapping him from whatever had made him freeze in panic like a novice. He slowly but surely kneeled, your hands refusing to let go of his clothes. Just as desperately, when he reached your height, your arms tried to close around him, pressing your body to him in a tight hug, but his torso was too big for you to touch your fingertips at his back.

The cold of the pavement, along with the smell of blood, had left you shivering. Almost too cold to be natural, until a big, tattooed hand gently, tentatively, placed itself at the nape of your neck.

Your lashes fluttered at the warm sensation, shoulders sagging in releaf, allowing you to breathe normally.

The others looked up, surprised at the kind gesture given by their most ruthless killer, or so you assumed going by the blood you had seen stuck at the soles of his boots.

Without waiting for instructions, that hand traveled slowly down your arm then to your side as if not to spook you. Just as carefully, an arm locked itself behind your knees, bringing you to his chest. The screeching need of him to hold you lulled, allowing exhaustion to melt you against him.

“Ghost?” Soap whispered, looking over you with trepidation at the consequences of him using his voice. “What are you doing?”

Your head felt heavy, forehead resting in the space beneath his jaw and his neck. Even through the baclava you could smell him, musk and something akin to sandalwood easing you to rest. The warmth surrounding you might have emanated from the hard chest you were pressed against or the trunk for arms now holding you to him, you weren’t sure what made you feel suddenly so secure. The only thing you were sure about right now was how tired you felt.

The masked man that had terrified you in the beginning dignified Soap’s question with merely a grunt for an answer, his quiet steps lulling you to a deep sleep.  

From far away, the howling now didn’t sound so menacing, nor so loud, easing into your subconsciousness as if it were completely natural, for his warmth had quieted whatever unexplained horrors had taken over you.

A/N: Hoped you likes it! I'm open to suggestions on what should happen next 𓏗𓏗

[wolfjackle-creates]

Answer My Call Chapter 2 Part 2

Happy WIP Wednesday! So last week, we had a tie between Bring Me Home and Answer My Call. The tie breaker didn't come in until Monday after I'd already finished the entire Bring Me Home chapter and half the Answer My Call one.

So y'all will be getting two fic upates today then I'm going to sleep. I'm tired after a full day of work with a call out. XP

If you want a say in next week's update, vote in the poll!

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

Chapter 1: AO3 (user locked), Tumblr

Chapter 2: Part 1

Word Count: 1.3k

-----

After the performances—an odd mix where the main band yielded the stage to a poet or an accordionist when they needed a break—Jazz and Todd continued to mingle.

Jazz waited until about fifteen minutes had passed before reaching into her bag to search for her phone. “Todd!” she cried.

“Jazz? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find my phone! Shit, what time is it?”

Todd pulled out his. “Eleven fifty. Did you have it when we arrived?”

“I don’t know! I haven’t checked it. Where could it have gone?”

One of the other attendees broke into the conversation. “Lost your phone? What does it look like? We can help you look.” She was a woman in her forties or fifties. Next to her was another woman who nodded her agreement.

“Thank you, that’d be great.” It didn’t take much effort to bring tears to her eyes—all she had to do was remember that Danny was still missing. “It’s a Samsung in an unfortunately standard black case. The lock screen has picture of and my brother. My name’s Jazz, by the way. And this is Todd.”

“I’m Mel and this is my wife Jayden. I’m sure we’ll find your phone soon enough.” Then, in a voice loud enough to cut through the chatter, “Oi! Anyone see an unattended phone lying around? Jazz here misplaced hers?”

Even Mel, though, had to admit defeat after half an hour of searching through the entire apartment yielded nothing.

Jazz sat down on the floor and let herself cry. “And by now we’ve missed the last train. I’m sorry, Todd. What a disaster.”

“Hey, no. None of that, now. Tonight’s been a blast. This sucks for sure, but I can get us an uber or something—”

“How far are you kids going?” asked Jayden.

“Too far,” cried Jazz. “I live out of the city. Parked at Alewife and took the red line in.”

Jayden winced. “Well, we parked nearby. Is there somewhere close we can drive you?”

Jazz blinked up at them. “You’d do that?” She turned to Todd. “I just want to go to sleep. Is there a motel nearby we could stay at?”

Todd pulled out his phone and searched. “Looks like there’s a Holiday inn just down the street or a La Quinta that’s a little cheaper just a bit further out.” He smiled ruefully at the women who’d been helping them. “If you could get us to either place, we’d be more than grateful.”

One of the residents, an older man named Rob, took a seat next to them. “Hey, kiddo. What’s your email? We can contact you if anyone finds it.”

Jazz smiled at him gratefully and gave it. If it wasn’t so necessary, she’d feel bad for lying to and worrying all these people. But they were in so much danger. To the women, she said, “Would the La Quinta be too far out of the way? If I end up having to get a new phone, I’d like to save as much money as possible. Thank God I still have my wallet.”

“Sweetie, it’s totally fine,” assured Mel. “We’d take you all the way home if we didn’t live on the opposite side of the city.”

“Thank you, but that’s really okay. I just want to go to bed and worry about it tomorrow.”

“Come on, dear.” Mel reached out a hand to help Jazz up. “Let’s get you cleaned up then we’ll be on our way.”

Jazz thanked Rob for his help before Mel led her towards the bathroom with an arm around her shoulder.

Less than forty minutes later, Todd and Jazz were alone in a hotel room together. She pulled the blinds shut and finally let herself relax.

When she turned back to the room, Todd was looking at her with one eyebrow raised. “Want to explain to me what all of”—he threw out his hands—“that was about?”

Jazz glared back at him. “You didn’t tell me you died! Damn it, if I’d known in advance—!” she cut herself off and took a deep breath. “Never mind. What’s done is done.”

Todd was deadly still. “How do you know that?”

Jazz threw her hands in the air. “It’s obvious to anyone who knows how to tell. Including the Guys in White who I told you are dangerous to ghosts and liminals! I had plans for what I’d say when they found us, but those won’t work if you’re dead!”

“Wait.” Todd held up his hands. “You’re saying I can be persecuted under those Anti-Ecto acts?”

“Yes! You’re more ghostly than me, and I am watched every minute of every day.”

Todd narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a moment before asking, “Have you heard of Lazarus Water or had any dealings with the League of Assassins?”

“No! I have no idea what you’re talking about. Quit changing the subject. My brother is the only thing that matters and you and Red Robin promised to help me find him.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Jason’s eyes flashed green, and Jazz glared right back at him. “The League of Assassins are the ones who brought me back to life with Lazarus Water. I need to know if you and your brother are mixed up with them because that would change our approach. If it’s a rogue government agency, that’s one thing. If it’s also the league, we’ve got a whole set of other problems.”

Jazz sat down heavily on one of the bed. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t— It’s been a long few months. After a long few years.”

Todd sat down across from her and nodded for her to continue. “Tell me what happened.”

“It started three years ago. My parents, they’re ghost hunters. Been building weapons to detect and hunt ghosts since before I was born. But three years ago is when they finally finished their life’s work: the ghost portal. Only it didn’t work at first. Then my brother Danny and his friends decided to be stupid. They went to check it out. I wasn’t there and the three of them don’t talk about it, but something happened down there that day.

“My brother died and the portal was working. Only, he didn’t die all the way. He became half-ghost, half-human. And that would have been bad enough, but with the portal open, ghosts came through from the Infinite Realms, sometimes called the Ghost Zone by humans. Some were benign, but many of them came to cause problems or hurt people. Danny stopped them.”

Todd held up a hand to stop her. “Your brother became a supehero? How didn’t the Justice League hear about this? How old was he?”

Jazz shrugged. “I don’t know about the Justice League. It could be that no one ever contacted them. It could be they didn’t believe us. And it could be that no one cared. Danny felt responsible though, since it was his fault the portal turned on. And he was the only one with the ability to stop the ghosts, so…” She held up her hands in a what-can-you-do gesture.

Todd closed his eyes and let out a careful breath. “I can guarantee you the JL didn’t know about your town. A fourteen-year-old would never have been left alone to monitor an interdimensional portal if we had.”

Jazz had no idea what she thought of that. Danny had done it all alone. So finding out he could have had help? She shook her head. What-ifs were a waste of time. “Well, he did. But the government didn’t like that a ghost was the main defense against ghosts. So the Ghost Investigation Ward, more commonly called the Guys in White or GIW was formed. At first, they were as incompetent as any other ghost hunter. But they didn’t stay that way.”

“What happened to your brother, Jazz?” asked Todd.

-----

Next

Sorry to end it there. But it's the right length and I need to go to bed. XP

Hope you enjoy!

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want notifications when I update.

Not much to say about this one. When I went to the event at this location, my friend and I very nearly missed the last train. It was pulling into the station as we entered. If we'd been 2 or 3 minutes later, we would've been stranded so far from my car, I don't even want to know what that uber or cab would've cost.

Luckily Jazz and Jason had a few good Samaritans nearby.

Next up: We learn more about what happened to Danny!

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

*shaking cup* freebie? Freebie for the poor? (Your writing is great and I hope you're doing okay :))

"He saved my life" was the magic sentence. Ordinarily, Erik might have taken it personally having a human pull a shot gun on him but- context mattered.

Your elderly grandfather had no way of knowing WHY he was with you. Or how he knew you. Not until you explained what happened. Still. It took... restraint.

It was... curious though. Seeing this part of your life. The fear and the pride on their faces when they hugged you to them- relieved to see you alive still. "Come on son," your grandfather said. "We'll load the car. Let the girls get supper on the table." And he followed- not sure what else to do.

"Be nice," you call.

"I'm always nice," your Grandfather called back, "it's the General you gotta worry about."

Erik smiled just a little as the old man popped your trunk open and shook his head at the chaos, "You'd think she lives in here, good grief."

"She does, for the most part," Erik snorted, "long hours. And she never knows what she's going to need."

Paul shook his head and hefted a box into place, "You have questions, don't you, son?"

Erik regarded him for a moment. There was a tense moment in the beginning. But... after that, he'd been treated like a friend. Like you'd just dragged any other misfit home. "Why does she do this?" he asked.

The other man adjusted his glasses and glanced towards the door. Erik can see him weighing what to say. Not looking for a lie, but looking for a way to tell the truth that respects your dignity. He can feel an ugly story coming, the way he can feel violence. "Because," Paul said, shoulders sagging, "when she looks at those children, she sees a best friend she couldn't help. Because by the time she knew what happened it was too late." He pushed himself off the side of your car and went to his tool chest, pulling a drawer open and extracting a framed picture.

It's old. You're there with another little girl. He's know you anywhere- it's the eyes. And the smile. You have your arms around each other. Beaming on the beach. "Allie's parents just... disappeared her. She was scared. Afraid no one would help her. And by the time Y/N managed to track her down again- it- she was dead. Someone just beat her to death."

Erik looked at the man in front of him and tried to keep control of his temper. It's not his fault.

"Y/N was so angry," Paul said, shaking his head. "To this day, I don't think she believes in god... For years we thought she was going to kill herself trying just to numb the pain. Pills mostly. Parties. But... one day she just dropped out of sight. Just was gone. We got phone calls and emails sometimes. She sounded good. just busy. Distracted."

Paul smiled ruefully, "We figured she was on a bender and tracked her down. We were gonna haul her little ass to rehab so help us god- and we found her handing out blankets and food to homeless mutant kids, telling a bunch of bigots to- well. You've met her."

Erik chuckled, "Yes, I'm familiar with her vocabulary." He handed Paul the photo back and studied him, "They're still looking for her."

"I figured." He exhaled slowly. "I don't want to have to bury my granddaughter. But, we know- she may not believe in God but, he'll hold her in his hands anyway."

"Paul-"

"If anything happens," he said, putting the photo away, "we're going to lay her next to Allie. We learned a long time ago to hope for the best and plan for the worst. My girl can work miracles but she can't stop bullets."

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Outfoxed: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Summary: Derek has had enough and decides now is the time to work bringing you home. The team is working on two cases and stretching their agents thin but they'll do anything to bring you back into Spencer's arms.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I know I'm going to piss some people off with the way I wrote the trial and the gathering of evidence but remember, this is fiction and it's my story. I'm making it easy and convenient. I know this isn't how trials work.

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"This unsub is armed and suffering a major psychological break, and she will not hesitate to kill again. She's white and in her twenties. We believe she came to the US a few years ago. She's likely on foot. She could be Eastern European. She may speak little to no English."

"If you manage to apprehend or corner her, do not underestimate this woman. She will try to fight her way out. The Downeys live less than a mile from the Foresters which means she's somewhere in this area."

"Every media outlet is being informed of the clear and present danger to the public," JJ says.

"Thank you," Rossi concludes the meeting just as Penelope calls. He takes this to the conference room so she can be on speakerphone. "Hey, Garcia."

"Okay, I really might have got something. All of these photos, every one of them, were uploaded to a user website called Photobug. It's an app where people can upload photos and videos, email, and webcam chats. Every one of these families extensively used this site for months, even years."

"All these family photos were printed by Photobug?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it protected?"

"Not from the people who run it. It's a great way for military families to keep in touch and a perfect way to target a family without anybody's knowledge."

"They outsource work to people all over the country. So, I took your profile, hacked into their employee database, and came up with this list of potentials. One of which is a match that screams homicidal bitch. Her name's Miranda Dracar. She was an orphan, born in Sarajevo in 1982. She was adopted by a family in Srebrenica. The address is being sent now."

"Let's go," Rossi says.

Rossi, JJ, and Anne find her apartment easily but luck has it, she's not there. However, pictures of Miranda's victims are posted all over her walls.

"All three families are on here," JJ says.

"Look at this." Anne points out a picture of another military man. "Do you think this is her next victim? His name is Sergeant Eric Young."

"JJ, call your contact."

JJ takes out her phone and calls someone she knows will be able to help in figuring out who this man's family is.

"Hi, this is Jennifer Jareau with the FBI. Sir, I'm gonna need access to every piece of data on US Marine Sergeant Young. It may save his family."

Rossi calls Hotch and Emily to let them know of their progress, and Hotch is more concerned the longer they talk to Karl about the murders.

"I don't think this woman has anything to do with Karl," Hotch says once he gets off the phone.

"I encouraged him. Ohh. I flirted with him," Emily cringes. "I made it personal. Getting intimate with a killer is so different."

"It's what we do."

"Yeah, but there's no fixing how I feel right now, is there?"

"No, but it helped the case. You did what you had to do."

"Agent Hotchner," Karl says from the room knowing he can hear him. "Before you go, there's one final thing I'd like to share with you."

"Let's get this over with," Emily sighs.

Both of them walk back into the room and Karl smirks at them.

"You think you found my admirer? A woman?"

"No, we found the killer," Emily corrects.

"With my help, of course."

"Your admirer is exactly like everyone who contacts you--lost."

"My love, your guy is far from lost."

"Okay, we're done here," Hotch declares.

"So is he." Karl holds up a note he's been keeping secret. "Look at what I have done. It's quite brilliant, you know?"

"We will find whoever sent you that."

"No, Agent Hotchner, I rather think he's already found you."

Hotch can't deny the dread he's feeling from his words. Emily and Hotch's phone rings but only the former grabs her phone to check. They found the unsub. She fought hard to escape but was eventually shot by her own gun. Something snaps in Hotch and he starts going through every file Karl has, anything that will help him get the answers he needs.

"Hotch. Hotch!" Emily urges.

"I can't believe you can't see what he's doing," Karl laughs.

"What is going on?"

"He's torturing him."

"Who?"

"It's great to see you squirm, Agent Hotchner."

Hotch looks at Emily with fear in his eyes. "Foyet."

"He knew you'd come," Karl laughs.

This all comes down to Foyet, and Hotch knows if he is going to get his ass, he's gonna need you to come back. After the incident with Big Sue, Ashley has been left alone. Big Sue hasn't gone after anyone since she was kicked out of her own gang for not being tough enough. One of them tried inducing you but you politely declined.

You and Ashley are in the rec room playing a game of chess. She doesn't know how to play but you've been teaching her.

"I used to know how to play well when I was a kid but got out of it as I grew up. My boyfriend retaught me."

You smile at the memories of you two going against each other.

"He sounds sweet."

"He is. He keeps trying to visit me here. It breaks my heart every time I deny him."

"Why do you?"

"He has this beautiful mind that remembers everything he sees and reads. He can't forget. I don't want him to remember me this way. I can't look in his eyes and see this version of myself. Maybe that makes me selfish."

"No, I get it. I'd hate for my parents to see me like this. They've tried visiting but I told them after the first one I don't want them here. They write every day, though."

"That's nice," you smile.

"Y/N!" You look to your right and see a guard coming for you. "Trial time. We have a spare change of clothes in your cell for you."

"Thank you," you say and get up.

"Give 'em hell," Ashley grins.

"Keep your head up, Ash. Remember what we talked about." She nods. "If I am found innocent and I don't return, just know I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you out of here."

"Go, you have court," she smiles with tears in her eyes.

"I promise, Ashley. I'll get you out of here."

After getting changed into more professional clothing, you're escorted to Arlington General District Court. You're nervous since you've seen the evidence they have on you. It's going to be tough to prove your case but you're going to use everything you've got to persuade the judge. You sit next to your lawyer after the judge has sat down. You look at the jury and quickly read each and every one.

Bored. Scared. Excited. Nervous. If you act right and give them the truth, you believe they will side with you. Most juries are unanimous so it could be a long decision process if not everyone is on your side.

"This is the case of the Commonwealth of Virginia v Y/N. Ms. Y/N, how do you plead?" the judge asks.

"Not guilty, Your Honor."

"Present your case."

The prosecutor stands up since he is allowed to go first. He walks in front of the jury and begins his statement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, do not let looks fool you. What you see as a friendly woman is a stone-cold killer." You fight the urge to roll your eyes. "She murdered seven men in cold blood, and here is the evidence to prove it. On every single victim are her prints and her hair. On every single murder weapon are her prints. I have the results back from the lab here. I have a witness statement made by a man named Frank Livingston that explicitly saw her commit the crimes."

"Is your witness here today?" the judge asks.

The prosecutor becomes clammy and clears his throat nervously.

"No, Your Honor."

"Why not?"

"I was unable to locate Frank to be subpoenaed."

"Objection. That's hearsay, Your Honor," Steve interjects. "How can we accept that statement from the person if that person isn't here?"

"I will allow lab results submitted into evidence but not that witness statement. If your witness isn't able to show up, the statement is voided."

"Yes, Your Honor."

He finishes his opening statement about how you're such a bad person before taking a seat at the desk. Steven stands up and does the talking for you, trying to make it clear to the jury that you're innocent.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I'd like to introduce you to Y/N. She is an FBI profiler for the BAU right here in Virginia. She started in the police force before moving up quickly to where she is now. She's aided hundreds of cases and given justice to those who were seeking it." Your lawyer holds up a file that has pieces of paper sticking out of it. "In here, I have letters from victims and their families thanking her for what she's done for them." You had no idea he did that for you. "The crimes she's accused of just isn't who she is. She helps instead of taking what she vowed to protect. The crimes in question occurred at night, the same nights she was safe in bed with her boyfriend. I have credit card statements that have already been submitted into evidence that show she is nowhere near the crimes when they were occurring." Steve goes on to talk about you in such a high tone, presenting everything he has that is in your favor. "Your Honor, if I may."

"Yes."

Steve walks all the evidence that's in your favor (it's not much) over to the judge who accepts it. Once they get the evidence out of the way, they'll go over the witnesses' statements before getting into their closing arguments. Steve doesn't have much in terms of evidence for you but the prosecuting attorney has plenty to put you away for a very long time.

Before he has a chance to end this part of the trial, the double doors into the courtroom are opened, and you look behind you to see your entire team file in. They all give you encouraging smiles until you see Spencer walk in. You briefly make eye contact with him before turning around to face the judge.

"Your Honor, if I may, I have more evidence to present."

"What is it?"

Steve walks over to Derek who hands him a file of more evidence in your favor. He looks through the file before taking out the ME reports that Derek had rushed. There is a TV in the corner of the room that can be used to show evidence, and he points to it.

"I'd like to request the use of the TV as I have video files to show as evidence."

The judge motions to the bailiff to roll the TV over to Steve so he can use it. You had no idea this was even happening. You knew they were working it but you didn't know they collected all this evidence... whatever it may be. You fight the urge to look back at them. You can feel his eyes on you.

"Your Honor and the jury, may I present to you, a video--CCTV footage of Y/N." He plugs the USB into the TV where the video of you walking into the hotel plays. He then shows the video of you in the gas station. It's grainy but it's clearly you." You get tears when you see the video of you and Spencer walking into the lobby holding hands. You miss that. "I have two of the four autopsies that were released for victims Juan Lopez and John Dimateo. The medical examiner put their deaths on the night that Y/N and her team checked into the hotel. They were dead a week before being found by police. She was on a case a few days prior to them being discovered, and I have the proof submitted by her Unit Chief."

The next video he shows is too dark to make anything out, but it's clear there is a man stabbing another man. You can't see any defining features on the man, but it's clear that the person on the video doesn't have your build. The crime scene photos of Chase Williams are also submitted side by side to show that it's the same alley he got stabbed in.

"Victims four and five, Eric Price and Jeffrey Rideback, as per the medical examiner report, have injuries that are too old to be when they say they died. They were dead long before they were ever found, and according to the ME report, two weeks. Two weeks before they were found, Y/N and her boyfriend Spencer Reid were out of town, and I have credit card statements and videos to prove it. Finally, video footage taken by a neighbor's camera pointed right at Y/N's apartment doors."

He plays the video that shows a man leaving your apartment with your hairbrush and two of the murder weapons in hand. You frown when you see the man's legs. It's a weird thing to think about but you've seen those legs before. You always knew that you knew the person who murdered the seven men because who else would hold a strong enough grudge against you than a person who knows you? Still, you can't put a name to it but if you had to guess, it's Frank Livingston. Why else would he lie about seeing you murder a man?

"This video shows a man leaving her apartment with two of the seven murder weapons and with a hairbrush that is used to leave behind her DNA on the victims. Victims she never knew or never had contact with. Ladies and gentlemen, Your Honor, Y/N is framed for murder and doing time for something she didn't do."

Steven does a good job, you have to admit. They just have a lot to speculate as soon as the day is over, and they come to a decision fairly quickly. That can be good or bad, depending on how you look at it. Either they find you so guilty that they didn't want to debate long or they weren't fooled and decided you were innocent. Either way, you're sitting on the edge of your seat when they return.

"We the jury find Y/N on account of murder innocent of all charges."

You don't care what they say afterward. All you care about is that they find you innocent. You're free to go. You don't have to go back to that hellhole of a prison. You hate leaving Ashley behind but you're going to do good by her and get her out of there as soon as you can. You walk over to your team who is cheering for your release, and the first person you run to is Spencer. He pushes aside the last two months of you not wanting to see him and accepts you into his arms, and you cry from how happy you are.

You're finally home.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

03/16/24 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew; Samba Schutte; Megan Vertelle; Save OFMD 3rd Tier Survey; In Soup Now; Stun Move Sunday; AdoptOurCrew; Rhys Madness Party; Request Uproar!; Pirate Radio/BoatThatRocks; Fan Spotlight; A to Z Ed Teach Zine; Cast Cards; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika;

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Samba Schutte BTS =

Samba definitely delivered with the BTS today! Today was shout out to the set design folks regarding The Floating Market! Source: Samba Schutte's Instagram

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 1

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 2

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 3

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 4

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 5

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 6

= Megan Vertelle =

Brilliant Set Designer Megan Vertelle added some more bts for us in regards to the floating market today!

Source: Megan Vertelle Instagram Stories

The Floating Market BTS - More Stills

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 7

The Floating Market BTS - Video Bonus

== Save OFMD Crew - Survey ==

Please vote on the final stretch goal of the London Ad Campaign! It closes Monday 4 pm GMT / 12pm EST / 9am PST Link to the Survey

= StunMoveSunday =

Time for another #StunMoveSunday! Join SaveOFMDCrew on Instagram!

= In Soup Now =

Up to $1640 on the InSoupNow Fundraiser In Aid of Team HAVEN!

For an extra bit of fun:

== EVENTS ==

= Adopt Our Crew: Rhys Madness Party =

Our crewmates over at @adoptourcreware hosting a celebratory even for Rhys' birthday week! More details tomorrow!

SRC: AdoptOurCrew Twitter

== Request Uproar at your Local Theatre! ==

Today we heard back from @BlueFoxEntertainment and they have been kind enough to give us some instructions on how to request Uproar at our local theatres! Please go to: Blue Fox Entertainment Linktr.ee and follow the instructions below!

== Watch Parties ==

Mar 17th: The Boat That Rocked AKA Pirate Radio Watch Party

7:30 pm GMT / 3:30 pm EST / 1:30 pm CST

Watch Party Hashtags:

PirateRadio 

AdoptOurCrew

SaveOFMD

OurFlagMeansWatchAlong

Mar 18 - Mar 22: Wrecked Season 3

Season 3 watch from March 18th to March 22nd. 

Times will be 10pm GMT / 5pm EST / 4pm CST / 2pm PST. Watch two episodes per day. Episodes are 21-22 minutes each. Use the following Saturday for the tags/watch if interested but not able to make this time.

Hashtags: 

#WreckedPirates

#SaveOFMD

#RhysDarbyFaction

== Fan Spotlight ==

== Ed Teach A to Z Charity Zine ==

I've been meaning to post this for a week or so and I kept forgetting! So please please please check out the #AtoZofEdTeachZine! You can still get it! Visit the following link. Just donate to an LGBTQ+ charity, $10-15 depending on which version you'd like and they'll email you the zine! Great cause with AMAZING ARTISTS AND WRITERS! Please please check it out! Thank you @xray-vex!

= Cast Cards =

Another wonderful card for the most forgiving chief, Gary Farmer! Check him out in Reservation Dogs! Awesome show! Thank you as always to @melvisik for keeping the case collection coming!

== Dedication to Matthew ==

For Matthew One of our dear crewmates, Stephanie, lost her son back in 2022. They both watched S1 together, and tragically he passed away not long after. Stephanie has been an active member of our crew for years now, and she reached out to Rhys and he made a lovely Cameo for her. Some of you may have already seen it as she's been kind enough to share it with us previously, but after talking with Stephanie and hearing about who Matthew was, I wanted to put together a small dedication to him, and share Stephanie's words with you with her permission.  Please visit this post here on tumblr for the whole story or here on the Repo for those of you not on tumblr.

== Love Notes ==

Happy Saturday Lovelies! It's already Sunday for all the folks over on the other side of the Earth, and the weeks starting up again.

Today's been a bit of a long day, and I've been bad about not getting enough sleep lately so I'm gonna leave a couple notes from other folks. I hope you have a lovely evening or morning and know that you are incredibly loved as your imperfect unhinged self. Love you all <3 Night.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme-- SWEATERS! Darby Gif Courtesy of @kiwistede Taika Gif Courtesy of @/Lightyear on Tenor

[emilyronnie]

My ranking of The Magnus Protocol episodes thus far, from least to most great (and why):

20. Personal Screening. Too much build up, not enough pay off. Dumbest main character award.

19. Hard Reset. I just kept zoning out, sorry.

18. Pet Project. Sneks. Not bad, kind of lackluster.

17. Anti-Social. Others might put this lower, but it was so god awful that it at least made me laugh.

16. Solo Work. Corpse case hit me right in the heart, but the organic conversations need some work. And oh, miscommunication trope, they could never make me like you.

15. Social Stigma. Bit long-winded, though I do enjoy hearing avatars speak about losing their humanity and finding the "loving embrace" of their god. Compelling, even.

14. Running on Empty. Case was fine, would probably be lower if not for GERTRUDE. MOTHERFRICKIN'. ROBINSON.

13. Rolling With It. Love a return to form with a classic statement. But the fedora trench coat combo gave me high school flashbacks.

12. Give and Take. Stranger ritual? Hell yes. Only wish we got more.

11. Marked. Parts dragged, but very creative use of an email chain. "The deep will care for his bones..."

10. Making Adjustments. The body dysmorphia + body horror statements in TMA really struck a chord with me, as did this one. Not particularly "scary" though.

9. Futures. The inevitable demise of those who try to cheat death will always slap.

8. Saved Copy. "Huh, maybe the narrator will become evil out of jealousy-- OH."

7. Putting Down Roots. Constantly felt unsettled, and the professional/analytical language changing in time with the doctor's transformation was very well done.

6. Getting Off. Mister Bonzo's on his way he wants to stay he wants to play, Mister Bonzo's on his way he wants to stay he wants to play...

5. First Shift. For "canaries should stay above ground" and "some of him" alone.

4. Introductions. Yeah I'm a sucker for any Michael-esque character.

3. Saturday Night. Excitement and intrigue at every turn. Many questions posed but also an eagerness to decipher them. Also, "Can he read???"

2. Taking Notes. A haunting story that flowed like a withered old man was telling it directly to me beside his grand fireplace.

1. Well Run. Horrifying concepts, great B-plots, Lady Mowbray, excellent suspense and sound design. 10/10

[starlightshadowsworld]

Agency informant Izaya

I don't want to bring up the characters of Durarara because they don't really play apart in this.

Despite all the events taking place, this shit happens in the mysterious time and land of post canon.

It's very much a Izaya in the world of Bungou Stray Dogs AU.

However I felt like I should mention what happened when he left.

So the final fight with Shizuo and Izaya happened. And practically everyone thinks Izaya is dead.

There's a great deal of scepticism, and for good reason it is Izaya Orihara after all.

There are 5 people who all know for certainty that he's still alive, other than those that saved him.

Shinra, Shizuo, Mairu, Kururi and Simon.

Shinra and Shizuo just have a gut feeling. They know him well enough to be able to survive just about anything. That and a body was never found.

Shinra, to himself hopes that wherever Izaya is he's happy. He knows more than anyone how human his old friend is.

Mairu and Kururi know because Izaya has always taken care of the house bills, phone bills and anything else they needed money for.

And those payments never stopped. Could just be some auto thing, but now every month they get a certain amount of money.

Every birthday, every time there's a Yuuhei Hanejima meet and greet there's the exact amount + travel fair in their bank accounts.

It's always anonymous but they know who it's from.

Simon knows.... Because it's Simon and Simon knows everything.

Somehow when Izaya was recovering in hospital, one of the nurses handed him a box with his name on it.

And inside was some Fatty Tuna.

Thing is they all know Izaya is never coming back. Again, it's mostly a gut feeling at first.

But than all the information on Izaya Orihara vanishes over night. If you search his name you will find nothing.

Any information the Dollars or other gangs have on him, purged from their systems.

The Awakusu have only their payments and emails between Izaya on record as the only proof they did that they ever did business with him.

His phone number is no longer in use. Kanra leaves the chat room, and the account is deleted. As does every other account ran by Izaya.

It's like Izaya never existed.

He's burned his essence from the city, only remembered in the stories and memories of those around him.

It's poetic in a sense.

And Izaya will never return, because along with the PTSD from his final fight, there's nothing left for him in Ikebukuro.

He's with the Agency, he's happy and more alive than ever. Trying to change, to be better.

And to truly atone, he will leave Ikebukuro in the dust. Erase himself from it's streets and let it move on peace.

In a way Izaya did die in that final fight. But he's reborn, he's someone the old him wouldn't recognise and that makes him smile.

"Izaya? Are you coming in?" Asks Atsushi, walking over to him. Izaya looks back, smiling warmly and nods. "Yeah, yeah I'm coming." Atsushi hesitates but Izaya gestures for him to continue.

"Are you okay?"

Izaya nods "I am, just reminiscing I guess. But back to work, right?" Atsushi nods, smiling "yeah, we've got a new case and could really use your help."

Izaya grins, intrigued "lead the way" he follows Atsushi inside, and he doesn't look back.

And he never will.

[kryptonbabe]

Hope you are having a great day.

Thank you!

I'm having a nice day so far, drank some coffee, sent some emails and since I don't know how to answer this nice ask any other way, I'll share something that's been on my mind the past couple of days and I was going to keep to myself, but here you go: The unjust erasure of Mr. Hogan from comic book history!

Mr. Hogan, the monkey, on the shoulder of the adventurer Lance O'Casey in their first appearance (Whiz Comics #2).

But who is Mr. Hogan? As I was curious about Captain Marvel (Shazam) first comics I started a journey of looking for his first publication on Whiz Comics #2 (fun fact: this is actually their 1st issue not the 2nd, for convoluted reasons). Finding these comics is easy for they are public domain, and I had a little help too (thanks @justletmeon12!), so I started reading the issues when Lance O'Casey's stories caught my attention, not because of the main character's originality, there's nothing really special about his naval exploits, but I was amused by his monkey side-kick Mr. Hogan and just how relevant he is to the stories. Ever since I was a kid I really liked animals in comic books, especially primates. I don't know, they are cute and fun and I won't apologize for it.

I read this first Lance O'Casey story expecting nothing, so it was quite surprising to realize it was a good story for its limited length and time period. Captain Marvel was a huge success back then and Whiz Comics had a long run - 13 years total, from 1940 to 1953 - until they were ruined by the famous DC lawsuit. But honestly I'd never heard of Lance O'Casey and admittedly he was not the most famous of the other feature characters in Whiz.

However, from 1946 to 1948, Lance O'Casey had a 4-issue mini-series at DC, and after reading a few of his Whiz stories I was slightly curious to see how this series would explore the extra pages... How disappointed was I to find out Mr. Hogan, the monkey side-kick, had been completely ERASED from O'Casey's stories, as if he had never existed...

And ok, why should you care? Why should anyone care? What's so special about Mr. Hogan. Well, I'm glad you asked, because I have some panels to show you... (all from Whiz Comics #2)

O'Casey and Mr. Hogan arrive at this island after some unknown adventure, the island is empty and they investigate, they find a guy passed out, he tells them some white people were kidnapped, they need to save them. The details are not important, but look how Mr. Hogan engages in the investigation... looking at footprints, holding the victim's head. You might argue these are passive actions though, O'Casey could be guiding him...

Take a look at these panels then, they show a careless Lance O'Casey absentmindedly running through a dark forest before Mr. Hogan astutely warns him of the death trap in the way, saving O'Casey from certain doom...

Later is Mr. Hogan who climbs a palm tree to reveal the enemy's hideout to clueless Lance O'Casey waiting on the floor...

Let me tell who saves the victims at the end... After arriving at the place where the kidnapped white people are, it is Mr. Hogan who releases them while O'Casey fights some guy. I'm not denying O'Casey's importance, I'm just trying to highlight that without Mr. Hogan's help Lance would not even be able to accomplish his feats...

Close to the end of the tale, in a impressive accomplishment of acrobatics and intelligence, we see a quick Mr. Hogan being catapulted to the drifting boat (their only escape from the enemy's island) and, by himself, maneuver the boat to the coast, saving the humans.

He even had a panel to introduce himself to the kidnapped victims they just helped.

I've only read a few of the Whiz Comics issues and Lace O'Casey is not featured in every issue, so it will take me some time to figure just when exactly they ditched Mr. Hogan for a human side-kick, and if any good reason is given for it. I just know he's absent from the #155 (and last) issue of Whiz, from Lace O'Casey mini in the the late 1940s and from the post-crisis cameo of O'casey in The Power of Shazam. I also have this quote about Mr. Hogan from his page at the DC Comics fandom wiki:

"Mister Hogan was the unofficial first mate on O'Casey's first ship, The Brian Boru. After several adventures, Lance moved on to a new vessel, the Starfish and brought on an actual first mate, Mike Bellow. Mister Hogan's actions from that time onward remain unknown"

The last sentence is certainly worrying. But rest easy, I'll be keeping a close eye on this, I will know what happened to Mr. Hogan, or at least his last appearance in the comics.

I must say, at the end of this little essay, that Mr. Hogan was not without his flaws and complexities, in Whiz Comics #5, after being bitten by a turtle, he had no reservations punching the creature. More room for character development and improvement I say, Mr. Hogan was a golden age character after all, and it's time to bring him back.

But yeah, thanks for the completely non-related ask, hope you're having a great day too!

[ashc-from-ao3]

You don't know what you've got till it's gone Tony stark x reader

Based off an Avengers click and drag I got where Tony was my lover but he also killed me. Warning ANGST goes from just after the first Iron Man movie until Civil War.

The last sound I expected to be my last was the sound of a repulser beam firing and two screams, my own filled with agony and Tony's filled with aguish and pain.

I should probably fill in the blanks here. My name is (Y/n) and I'm just a normal regular human being, I meet my boyfriend of two years ,Tony Stark, at a convention and he had tried to get a one night stand, when I had refused I apparently had caught his attention. Two days later he had sent me one hundred gold and red roses. They didn't last long. A week after that it was sweets. I had a dentist appointment the next week and threw them out. Two weeks after it was a 6-foot tall teddy bear, I admired the fact that the man kept trying and I love teddies so I kept that. Then started the cute messages he would leave on my answering machine when I would be gone at work. Then came the rent being payed for me. At this point I figured it was less about sex and more about the fact I had turned down the great Tony Stark.

The day I finally agreed to a date was a late December evening, I was at work when a spam email was sent to literally every computer in the office, now I knew it was spam and probably contained a virus so I didn't click on it. But the newest employee was a stupid bint and didn't listen to anyone and hated me so when I warned her she just glared at me and opened.the.FUCKING.EMAIL! When the suspected virus took over the company's server and started draining funds into an over seas account my stupid co-worker decided to blame it on me. Resulting in me not having a job, honestly I wasn't too worried, with Tony.....Mr.Stark still trying to win me over by paying for my rent and my saving I had enough to tide me over until I got a new job. I was okay with this turn of events until I got him and instead of the one or two cuties messages from Stark I had three messages from my mother. My father had passed away, I broke down crying, my family was from Canada and while I was only in New York I didn't know if I had the money in my savings to leave, tide me over on crappy food for a while yeah but not get to Canada.

A knock on my door became my saviour. I was still crying when the first one sounded. The second and third where more demanding until finally the fourth and fifth sets where down right frantic.

"(Y/N)? ARE YOU IN THERE?" The banging continued along with the yells from Tony of my name. Finally a repulser beam sounded and my door was blown to smitherines. I barley had the air or energy to scream, I just cried. A half second later I was wrapped in a comforting embrace.

"Oh god, I'm sorry if I scared you. I wanted to surprise you so I went to your work.....I know it's weird that I know where you work, live and what your number is but when I saw you at the convention I just really wanted to get to know you, you seemed like such an interesting person. When you turned me down I realized you thought I just wanted sex.....it was an idea but only after I had properly won you over, and let me tell you that is something I have NEVER done. I tried everything and I'm rambling." Tony looked so dustrught at the thought he was the reason for my break down. I sniffled and patted his arm.

"It's okay, you're not the reason I'm crying, please continue your story, distract me from the real reason I'm crying" Tony nodded and took a breath.

"I went to your work with reservations to a fancy new place and a nice dress and I thought it was a nice way to actually ask you out, when you weren't there I asked your boss and he told me you had gotten fired. By the way this one lady tried to get me to take her out in OUR date....she looked like a fucking banshee. I came over to look In on you,my heard you crying and I got worried. Maybe blasting your door apart wasent the best way to do it but I panicked." I sniffled again and sat up.

"I wasn't worried about losing my job, with you so graciously paying my rent I had enough to tide me over on ramen noodles until I had a new job......but my mother called my father was in car acdedent and died, my family lives in Canada and I don't have enough money to go to the funeral." Tony scowled for a second.

"Babe, I'll take you to see your family, I'll pay for the door and I'll do what ever you need me to until you are feeling better." I smiled shakily and hugged him.

"You don't just want sex or to claim a conquest do you? You actually want a relationship?" Tony nodded and I smiled a little, looks like things might just work out for me.

"In that case I would love to go out tonight, if the reservations are still good, and if you want to send me to see my family I should take you with me, I want them to know who helped me get there." Tony smiled brilliantly and dragged me down the hall asking me where my bathroom was, I pointed it out and he pushed me in gently.

"Put on the dress then open the door" I shrugged but did what he asked, as soon as I opened the door he was practically attacking me with makeup brushes.

"Tada! You look beautiful.....not that you don't always but now you look just wow" Tony was right, somehow this billionaire knew more about makeup than half the women I knew. He had expertly blended and shaded the makeup and it gave me back my glow, you would never know just moments before I was balling my eyes out. With a small giggle I threw my arms around Tony and gave him a peck on the cheek. Half an hour later we had finished our meal and where out dancing, Tony had requested one of my favourites can't help falling in love the Andrea bocellie version. After we had taken a walk along the beach just chatting and telling each other about ourselves, I agreed to more dates he had walked me home. Half a week later Tony had taken me to my parent's....my mom's house, the look of surprise on her face was enough to make me laugh just a little, throughout the entire thing Tony was very supporting and caring.

After my fathers funeral we had gone on several more dates and I quickly fell in love with the billionaire. One day ,after about a year, Tony asked me something huge he had asked me to move in with him. I had agreed in half a heartbeat and moved in. Tony had introduced me to the avengers, Steve was always a gentleman and it seemed to irk Tony, I made sure to reassure him that I loved him and while Steve was hot, he had clenched his jaw at that, he was smokin', sexy, absolutely perfect. That had cheered him up immediately. After a while of living with him Tony had set up a romantic scene on the roof of what was now called Avenger's tower, there where candles everywhere and roses to. Tony was in the middle of it all in my favorite tuxedo, when I approached him he had taken my hand and sunk down to one knee.

"(Y/n) at first you where a pretty face in the crowd, then you became a smart mind and pretty face, then you became someone I wanted to have with me forever, then you became my girlfriend, and then the most important person in my life. Sweetheart I would die for you,I would kill for you. Anything you want is yours, the only thing I can't offer is my heart....but that's because you stole it. (Y/n) (Y/last/n). Would you do me the honour of being mine for ever and marrying me?" With tears in my eyes and a happy smile I nodded and choked in a sob, I fanned my eyes and bent down to Tony and gave him a very salty kiss. Tony wrapped his arms around me and lifted me in the air, I could hear the sound of fireworks and I opened my eyes only to pull away from Tony and smack him in the chest with a grin. Red and gold fireworks had been shot into the night sky to spell out

She said yes

Underneath the Mark 40 suit was holding hand with a similar suit that looked more femanine

Our wedding was scheduled for the spring, Tony was going to take everyone invited to a beautiful island he had bought for our honeymoon. I was frantically planning, I couldn't decided between Wanda or Natasha for my maid of honour so I decided both of them would be, the wedding wasn't going to be very tradional anyway. Three months before the big day and the government had to come and ruin it.

They had decided the Tony and every other superhero needed to be under supervision, Tony had agreed and Steve had rebelled, it probably also had something to do with his old friend from the 40's being back, while Steve hadn't trusted Tony to tell him about Bucky but I had accidentally stumbled on the information and confronted him about it. After he had explained everything I had agreed to keep it a secret. The government was now tearing my family apart, Tony the love of my life, and all of my friend. People I now concerned family where fighting.

I had to stop this. Tony had ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y to lock me down but in a flash I had used the repulser beams in my "Iron Woman" suit, when Tony proposed he had given it to me, he had insisted I be safe when he was on missions, this was the first time I needed to use it and it felt strange. I landed just a few hundred meters from where I could see a fight about to start, with a burst of adrenalin I started racing towards it. I had just arrive when Tony lifted his hand and shit a repulser beam at Steve, the supersoldier had lifted his shield to deflect it but it hadn't even reached him, instead I was thrown backwards with a scream. A half second later I was surrounded. Tony had my head in his lap and was crying, the tears dropped on my face and I gasped, the rest, of the avengers had surrounded me I could see horror in all their eyes, I grinned a little, at least my death would bring them back together, even if it was just to mourn me.

"(Y/nn) baby, look at me. Listen you can't leave okay? I still haven't seen you walk down the aisle I still have had a heart attack when you announced you're pregnant, I still haven't had my hand broken when you're bringing our son or daughter into this world. I still haven't woken up at three in the morning to take care of him or her, I still haven't cried at their first day at school, I still have to beat boys off my daughter or encourage my son to ask that girl out, I have a future planned out for us, almost down to the second.....and you know how bad I am at planning. I have almost every detail planned for us so you can't leave me.....okay?" I smiled and sniffed, the actions though small caused me immense pain.

"I'm sorry baby, but I don't I-I-" I paused for a cough that brought up a large quantity of blood.

"I don't think I'm making it, I'm s-so-sorry I'm so sorry"

"NO! YOU CANT LEAVE ME, I WONT LET YOU! IF YOU LEAVE YOU VANT STOP ME FROM FOLLOWING" Tony's voice became softer after his outburst, his tears started interfering with his ability to talk and he choked on a sob.

"(Y/n) pl-please don't leave me, you can't leave me, you make me a better human than I actually am, you can't leave. You have to stay strong for me. I'll do what eve you want just stay with me, I'll even say that the government can go screw themselves, I'll do what ever you want just stay with me." Tony went to brush away a tear and he turned sharply towards Wanda and Pietro, for a second I thought I saw a flash of red in his eyes but I was dying, what did I know.

"Maximoff! Get her to a hospital, please, don't let her die because I'm stupid."

"To-Tony, there is nothing you can do, I'm dying babe. I'm so- I'm so-orry p, I'm so-"

the world went black around me and the last sound I heard on this earth was the hear wrenching scream of my fiancée as I left him.

[woodaba]

We Wouldn't Have Alan Wake II Without Quantum Break

Remember Quantum Break? The first game announced for the Xbox One? The link between cult classic Alan Wake and surprising studio-saving hit Control? That prominently features Lance Reddick, the much-missed actor who was frequently one of the most electric screen presences of our time?

Don't worry, I barely do either, and I played the game yesterday.

So, a refresher. Quantum Break, announced in 2013 alongside the Xbox One and released three years later, is a third-person shooter starring Shawn Ashmore aka Iceman from the X-Men movies as Jack Joyce (and not Jake Joyce as I constantly remembered him as. In my defense, it's a better name, if only because then his superhero name could be Quantum Jake...), who, after being turned into A Remedy Entertainment Protagonist after a time-travel experiment gone wrong, battles against fellow Remedy Entertainment Protagonist Aidan Gillen aka Doctor Pavel I'm CIA as Paul Serene, over what to do about an imminent apocalypse after Time starts Breaking because of the aforementioned time-travel experiment.

As a rehabilitating former Doctor Who obsessive, I'm particularly open to this kind of time-travel nonsense, but Quantum Break is frustratingly unwilling to capitalize on its own premise. Interesting things happen, sure: people get stuck in causality loops, confront and become acausal time monsters, and live entire second lives in the past after time-traveling, but almost none of it occurs to Jack Joyce: he just spends his time just shooting guys in a series of warehouses and offices. Quantum Break is a potentially interesting story that we don't really get to see anything of, instead anything compelling in the narrative is relayed to us second-hand, by the myriad emails and documents scattered throughout the gunfights, or over the radio, and, of course, Remedy's now-signature multimedia ambitions.

In between acts of the video game Quantum Break, you'll be treated to episodes of the TV show Quantum Break, a live-action c-tier circa-2009 network TV production starring some of the big(ish) names that headline the game Quantum Break, but mostly follows a cast of extras who navigate around the events of the game while working for baddie Paul Serene's Evil Corporation, Monarch.

It's in the TV show that what Quantum Break actually is begins to take shape. Remedy, as a studio, has always been interested - and unusually adept at - pastiche, whether it's the noir comic stylings of their still-astonishing Max Payne duology or the rickety but deeply charming Stephen King love-in that is Alan Wake. And here, they do a genuinely stellar job at replicating the look, feel, and sensibilities of a 2008-2013 network TV Lost/Fringe rip-off that gets canceled after one season.

That may sound backhanded, but I assure you it isn't. I've long been a fan of Remedy, in spite of, or perhaps because I don't think they've made a truly great game since Max Payne 2. In a medium that often pillages relentlessly from Film and TV, Remedy set themselves apart from their competition with the depth of their understanding of the production of film, bringing into games a deftness of set construction and filmic pacing that blows their contemporaries out of the water. Even more-lauded names like Naughty Dog and Rockstar come up short against Alan Wake's hauntingly gorgeous misty woods, best illustrated with Rockstar's Max Payne 3, which matched Remedy's cinematographical flair in the cutscenes, but fell far short of their level design chops and breadth of influences.

Quantum Break is, in aesthetics and production, a genuinely extremely well-considered pastiche of this period of sci-fi television that is now comfortably in the rear-view mirror, the time since its release having given it a real nostalgic charm that would have been dulled at the time of release. It really reminded me of the years I spent watching shows like Heroes, or Flash/Forward, shows that may not have been very good, but are intoxicatingly emblematic of their time and place, hiding just beneath the floorboards of the shows that would actually get to be remembered.

It's a shame, then, that it just fails to really compel on any level beyond appreciation for the pastiche.

Much like the gameplay, the TV episodes of Quantum Break feel almost ancillary to another, better story that we never get to see. The stars of the game feel wasted here - particularly Lance Reddick, one of my favorite actors, who steals the show every time he appears, but is given vanishingly little to do in comparison with a group of wafer-thin characters that struggle to manifest a single dimension, with relational at best connection to the concerns of the narrative. It looks like a particularly budget-strapped episode of Warehouse 13, sure, but it doesn't really feel like one, as the episodes - until the last one, which is a noticeable improvement - are shockingly paceless and devoid of the arcs that would make a singular episode of television compelling. They are, ultimately, primarily dreary, overlong, and constantly highlighting the fact that they are largely interstitial filler.

It would be wrong to accuse Remedy of not having their heart in Quantum Break, as there is too much evident passion to discount, but I do feel like they struggle to find a core to this idea, something that they truly want to explore. Whether I'm playing the game or watching the show, QB leaves everything on the surface, with nothing to really find beneath the surface. It's notable that the game is absolutely filled with constant allusions to Alan Wake - including a full-blown trailer found on a TV moments after starting the game that bears startling resemblance to the eventual plot of this year's Alan Wake II - and that the game started life as a pitch to Microsoft for Alan Wake II: one suspects that they would much rather be making that game at this moment in time than Quantum Break, or that the game is a test-bed of ideas for the studio's future, the act of throwing a thousand darts at a quantum dartboard, and seeing which ones find their mark. It's just that for this effort, precious few of them do.

And yet, the surprise is that by the end, I truly felt like Remedy was genuinely onto something with the spirit of Quantum Break's ideas, if not the execution of them. The television show is the thing that makes Quantum Break live, that marks it out as something worth remembering in a sea of slick third-person shooters with cinematic ambitions. It is the icon of the foundational belief of the Xbox One, that the future of games lay in a synthesis with television, a dead-end future that had already worn out by the time the game was actually released. What remains is little more than a gimmick, sure, but it is one that, by the end, is oddly compelling, even if most of it is terrifically boring to actually experience.

There is a genuine thrill to seeing characters in both video game graphics and live-action forms, shifting between the two seamlessly thanks to some genuinely well-realized digitized actors that still look good today, a shift that blends well with the time-space bending of the plot. Do I care about Jack Joyce, as a person? Not even slightly. Did I still grin when I saw Actual Shawn Ashmore briefly appear in the TV episodes after controlling Virtual Shawn Ashmore? Absolutely. It's the same kind of shallow thrill you get from Cheers allumni showing up for a visit in Frasier, or when the Torchwood crew talk around the presence of Mr. Doctor Who, Esq, but as something that works with what the game is doing rather than distracting your attention elsewhere.

The gameplay portions represent time breaking down with (genuinely cool, if shallow) shards of space and glass and stuttering loops of physical time, but the collision of the Real and the Virtual feels so much more effective in communicating the idea of time and space shattering and colliding into one another. I just wish it played in this space more, focusing on Ashmore, Reddick, Monaghan, and Hope, rather than the cast of goons and extras who feel wholly separated from the game until the final mission.

I'd like to say that I'd love Remedy to take another crack at this idea, with the lessons they've learned from Control and Alan Wake II, but that already feels like a fool's hope. The ballooning costs of video game development make the idea of filming an entire TV mini-series alongside it feel laughable. Sure, Control's live-action segments were plentiful and superbly produced, but they were also far more restrained than Quantum Break, focusing on short segments with one non-big-name actor each in a couple of highly reusable sets. With both this and its open-world, side-questing structure with plenty of loot and upgrades to collect, Control is something largely in line with the realities and productions of modern game development

Quantum Break isn't rooted in reality for even a second. It's a time-locked instant, the most 2015 game ever made, which makes it all the better that it came out in 2016. There's no future in what Quantum Break envisions. It's a failed experiment, something to shrug at and move on. And yet, it compels me regardless, despite the fact that I don't really like it.

We need games like this, I feel. Historical curios like this show that the shifting landscape of the medium isn't a straight line, it splits off into splintered fraying timelines, some leading to nothing, but others spilling back in unexpected ways. After all, Courtney Hope, who played Beth Wilder here, returned for the starring role in Control, and that game feels so keenly like the product of lessons learned from QB, with everything from the live-action segments, the document-reading, and the combat feeling like a progression from Remedy's previous work. In particular, my complaints about QB's narrative taking place almost entirely off-screen evolves into a hugely compelling aspect of Control, with the genuine highlight of that game being reading the endless documents detailing the horrors and nightmares of America transcribed into corporate mundanity.

And while I've only played a taster of Alan Wake II, there's no doubt in my mind that that game, a bona-fide critical darling the likes of which Remedy hasn't had since Max Payne 2, owes a great debt to QB. Not least because its engine provides the framework for the game, but also because, well, it's been in there, this whole time.

Waiting for The Return.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Sussex Vampire pt 1

I know i haven't read this one. Because I remember its existence and that I never read it. Vampires aren't often my thing, but somehow I doubt this is going to stray into my alternate universe of supernatural explanations. I'm sure there will be a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything.

'Our client, Mr. Robert Ferguson, of Ferguson and Muirhead, tea brokers, of Mincing Lane, has made some inquiry from us in a communication of even date concerning vampires. As our firm specializes entirely upon the assessment of machinery the matter hardly comes within our purview...'

Imagine working for an engineering company and someone writes to you asking for help with vampires. What would you even do with that? Honestly, it's kind of nice that they're even forwarding the request on rather than just binning it. I would have just written an email back saying 'Sorry, but I think you sent this to the wrong address. Good luck with your vampire problem.'

The fact they're sending it to Holmes because they've worked with him before though and someone at the office was like 'you remember that weird guy who came in and solved our mystery? the one who crawled around on the floor and pushing things off tables? I bet he could deal with a vampire.'

Or Holmes was really rude to one of them and this is their revenge.

“Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson,” said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. “It was a ship which is associated with the giant rat of Sumatra, a story for which the world is not yet prepared."

I may not have read this story before, but the Giant Rat of Sumatra's fame exceeds this paltry statement. He's my favourite 'sir not appearing in these stories' of the Holmes canon.

"But what do we know about vampires?"

Or at least that seems to be Tumblr's hot take on the matter.

(How many pop culture vampire gifs can I fit into this story? That's what I intend to find out)

“Rubbish, Watson, rubbish! What have we to do with walking corpses who can only be held in their grave by stakes driven through their hearts? It's pure lunacy.”

“But surely,” said I, “the vampire was not necessarily a dead man? A living person might have the habit. I have read, for example, of the old sucking the blood of the young in order to retain their youth.”

They're treating this so seriously.

"The world is big enough for us. No ghosts need apply."

"By the way, he claims acquaintance with you.” “With me!”

Watson! How could you forget your old friend Bob Ferguson? How? Tutut.

'The gentleman had been married twice and he had one son by the first wife. [...] Twice the wife was caught in the act of assaulting this poor lad in the most unprovoked way. Once she struck him with a stick and left a great weal on his arm.'

I mean, you don't get clearer evil stepmother vibes than that. In general, not good.

'As she ran into the room she saw her employer, the lady, leaning over the baby and apparently biting his neck. There was a small wound in the neck from which a stream of blood had escaped.'

That does sound fairly vampiric.

'...the lady implored her not to do so and actually gave her five pounds as a price for her silence.'

This is the equivalent of over £500, so... I can sort of see that working. But also you think the woman is biting her infant child - definitely tell someone. Always tell someone if you think someone is trying to eat a baby. Seems pretty obvious. Take the money as well, sure, but definitely tell someone.

'He knew his wife to be a loving wife, and, save for the assaults upon her stepson, a loving mother.'

That's a pretty big exception. You know that right? She's a loving mother except for how she abuses her stepchild. But other than the physical violence, she's great. Super maternal. Contender for mother of the year.

Seriously?

“Of course I remembered him,” said I as I laid down the letter. “Big Bob Ferguson, the finest three-quarter Richmond ever had."

Hey, he actually is a Bob! Ha!

"Take a wire down, like a good fellow."

Condescending much, Holmes?

There is surely nothing in life more painful than to meet the wreck of a fine athlete whom one has known in his prime. His great frame had fallen in, his flaxen hair was scanty, and his shoulders were bowed. I fear that I roused corresponding emotions in him.

Yikes, Watson forced to confront his own mortality. But again a really unflattering description of someone you seem to like. Did Watson ever keep any friends other than Holmes, because he's really rude about them sometimes.

"But you can imagine how difficult it is when you are speaking of the one woman whom you are bound to protect and help."

I mean, sir, as far as you know she is literally abusing your children. I feel like you're okay not protecting and helping her get away with that.

“No, she struck him savagely. It is the more terrible as he is a poor little inoffensive cripple.”

O-kay, so... right. Yep. Mmhm. Glad to see the ableism alive and well in the Victorian times.

Well, post-WWI times when this was published, but Victorian times in the story.

“I gather that you did not know your wife well at the time of your marriage?” “I had only known her a few weeks.”

I'm starting to understand your problem a bit better, my dude.

“None save that she hated him. Again and again she said so.”

That's... extreme.

Beating child bad, but what if child evil? Clearly there's going to be a twist here, because there's no way this is going to turn out to be an actual vampire. What if twist is that the fifteen year old is the villain all along?

Don't know how that would relate to the baby-blood drinking.

“That's what puzzled the vet. A sort of paralysis. Spinal meningitis, he thought. But it is passing. He'll be all right soon—won't you, Carlo?”

Oh no. There's a woman from Peru, a selection of South American artefacts available. I feel like there might be some sort of mysterious tropical poison involved and the kid tried it on the dog, then went after the baby and the wife has been sucking the poison out of the wound. It would certainly cover all the facts. And there was a long phase where people really did like 'tropical poison blow darts' in British fiction.

“For God's sake, what do you think, Mr. Holmes? It may be a mere intellectual puzzle to you, but it is life and death to me! My wife a would-be murderer—my child in constant danger! Don't play with me, Mr. Holmes. It is too terribly serious.”

Honestly, Mr Ferguson should definitely have done something about his wife abusing his children before this (even if she isn't, that's what he thinks she's doing), but I respect him for this outburst. And Holmes does actually respond to it with some empathy.

Yep. current theory is that the fifteen year old is actually a jealous, spoilt kid and he's trying to get rid of stepmother and half-sibling in a way that will implicate her because it's South American poison. And poor old Bob is just a bit of a himbo, who doesn't believe anyone capable of such things.

[solidaritygaming-fanblog]

I consumed too much Jimmy and doc content 😭... I'm cooking an au now. Yapping beneath the cut

THIS IS THE THIRD TIME THIS POST HAS RESET AND NOT SAVED. ANYWAY I SHOULD BE DOING A VERY IMPORTANT PROJECT RN LMAOOO. Thegoddamn "you're triggering my parental insticts" clip has ruined me...

Anyway um. Jimmy is an Intern at a big company, and kinda sucks at his job (it's not his fault...) while Doc is The experienced employee who's had every job title except ceo.

People also prolly joke like "oh Docs next in line for ceo!!!" Sadly he is not But also the ceos an asshole and Doc would actually make a great ceo so it's extra funny. However Jimmy assumes this is Literal.

Sooooo Jimmy is very awkward around Doc and stuff. Doc just seems outward scary and assumes Jimmy is autistic (probably not wrong) so their interactions are just greeting each other in passing using each other's last names (which are "Solid" and "Monstrato" because I do what I like. Monstrato is Latin btw and means monstrous or remarkable)

Now is a good time to mention I know nothing about the criminal justice system.

Anyway Skizz (or someone else idk) was meant to take Jimmy on errands and stuff to show him how to do stuff under company pretense. But oh no!!! Skizz or however wasn't there and the only person with time to spare (for both intern training and errands) is Doc!

Anyway they end up at the bank or sm. (THERE ARE REFRENCES OF VIOLENCE AFTER THIS BTW) and their just doing banking things when people come in to rob the bank!!! And one of them knifes Jimmy in the face before Doc grabs his arm and fucking sprint drags him away. They end up holed up under a desk or sm, and long story shot Doc is very protective and a guy gets shot less than five feet away from them. Jimmy makes direct eye contact with the gunman for a good ten seconds, and the gunmans mask had been pulled down.

When the robbers leave, Jimmy starts falling apart because. Yknow. He saw a guy get murdered, got knifed in the face, and has basically memorized the face of a murder while making eye contact with them. Doc manages to keep Jimmy relatively together though, and this is the first time Jimmy uses Docs first name!!! <3✨️!!!

Anyway idk what else... um Jimmy and Doc only get two days of work because the C.E.O is a bitch, and it's like two weeks until Jimmy starts receiving weird emails... and then an actual peice of mail to his apartment reading "We found you"

anyway yadda yadda yadda you probably know where this is going I'm very tired.

Thx for reading ig. Obligatory screenshot of a Google search I made while typing this post. I am so sleep deprived

Idk what this is I just need art of Jimmy and Doc covered in blood except doc looks angry and is packing MAJOR HEAT (gun). What the fuck am I saying

[romaine2424]

Daily Blog July 9, 2023

Happy Sunday! Things on the home-front have calmed down significantly so I've been writing writing writing and a little reading. One of the hardest parts about writing a long chapter fic is the loneliness of it all. Writing is usually a Solo event. There is a huge rush you get (okay that I get) when posting something new. You're excited but also worried that no one will like it. You wait for that first like, bookmark, oh hell for that first comment! But that feeling may only come once or twice a year.

Fandom History Musings:

One time, I did adventure into writing a Drarry murder/mystery story with nine other authors. Level Two: Series 1. We had a 2 producers, a showrunner, 2 mods, editors, artists, and email discussions about who would write which chapter in the plot and have it done on time so the next author could build off of it. Take a look at this Link of Acknowledgements. You can see how much work was done in the background. Most of us authors just wrote. We had it easy. But some did double, triple duty. This is the link to all of the amazing artwork, promo video, promo releases. Even if you don't read the story, the spectacular artwork by @dustmouth-blog, @raitala and @eatingfireflies (epithalamium on LJ) you will truly enjoy! Small warning for one or two NSFW.

I'm I beyond proud that it was completed, that I was a part of it, and that it was very well received, but would I do it again. Absolutely I don't know! The arguments over the plot, the sensitivities, 4 folks dropping out for various reasons, but yet we did persevere. One of our disagreements was what the theme song should be. I suggested something lame and got shot down, which was totally fine. Still love the song, though. @raitala suggested a song by Muse, which many others loved. I hated it. I'd hadn't heard of Muse and what I heard I wasn't a fan. I think of that now and laugh because I love Muse and when I'm writing, they're on my playlist. Sorry @raitala, I was wrong.

What I'm Reading:

I think I should rename What I Read. :)

It took me a few nights to read Some Flowers Bloom in the Dark (271K) by @rockingrobin69. I still have to comment on it *makes note to do so*. This is a very intense and disturbing fic to read, but oh so well done. Here is the author's Summary and Note:

Draco is very seriously entangled with someone he only refers to as Sir, or He in the privacy of his own mind. He's been entangled with Him - obsessively, impossibly - for years now, almost as long as he'd been out of prison. So what if he wasn't exactly happy? He was used to this life by now. He knew what to expect, and even if it wasn't always so great, at least he didn't have to think about Azkaban. He didn't need to be saved by some sloppy-haired git. He didn't need anything. Apparently, Potter didn't care. Why, why must he always ruin everything? *All non-con elements and Dom-Sub tones are not between Harry and Draco. *Rough references of abuse. Past and current non-con. Dark, dark, darkness. Then some light.

This is a dark, difficult story of recovery. It's painful, long, with a lot of angst and panic attacks and traumatic everything, so please consider before you read. Mind the tags for possible triggers.

This is the type of fic that you can't stop reading even though there are times you want to put it down, so you wince, you get frustrated with Draco, you get frustrated with Harry, but mainly you fear for Draco. He's been so damaged, yet, he's alive and persevering in the only way he feels he can. But you as the reader know its not a path that is survivable long term. As the fic moves on, that feeling that something horrible (more horrible than the past) is going to happen and the tension is very palpable. The writing of what Draco's feeling and why is spectacular and You absolutely need to get to that end to see what happens. @rockingrobin69 in the summary says 'some light' at the end. I was so so pleased with the ending. Draco did more than survive.

Drarry Tumblr Fic/Art Resources:

I love @weeklydrarryficrecs! It's always fun to see what story they've picked and some of their thoughts at the end. Especially when it says what type of mood it evokes or need it fulfills. I have a small TBR list so when I'm free to start a new fic, and if what I've saved to read I'm not in the mood for, I can pop over to @weeklydrarryficrecs and find what I'm looking for. I also appreciate the mixups of new and old Drarry fics. The top of my TBR is now Temptation on the Warfront (180K) by Aizarincrims0n (AO3), which was recced 3 days ago. It's a canon rewrite, which I'm really really picky about. Looking forward to later tonight when I can pop into this world.

Note: As I mentioned in my last Blog post, this will no longer be a Daily Blog but more on Random days. I'm hoping to do at least 3 a week.

Hope the week ahead is kind to you,

Romaine

[saberamane]

Now that I'm home from work, here's my thoughts on Assassin's Creed Brotherhood.

Overall, loved the game. I love the fact that you literally start off where you ended in AC2, and that you get to see the grand escape from the Vatican. I wish there was a bit more story before Cesare's attack, allow you to really feel the victory, you know? Mainly because the fact the Cesare attacks you literally the day after you beat up his dad and took the apple seems a bit...fast? Like how did he not only get informed of the incident, but he was able to rally his army at Monteriggioni with siege towers and everything? I don't think he'd actually be able to mobilize that fast.

I do love that when Ezio wakes up in Rome he immediately begins to fuck with the Borgia. The day he wakes up he kills an executioner and burns a Borgia tower?? He certainly works fast.

I do love the 'recruits' part of this, how you can find people to become assassin's, send them on missions that help you get money and items, I only wish that you could continue to personalize their outfit after they become Assassin's. And maybe give us a selection of weapons they can use? Instead of them basically being copy and paste.

Story wise, I think they could have given us a bit more background on some of the other 'big' assassinations, like Juan Borgia. He's related to Cesare and the pope, but we only know him as having a risque party and being a banker? Give us more reasons to hate this guy and want him dead! Overall, he didn't seem like an 'evil' guy.

The Romulus lairs were fun, but overall kind of pointless? You never ran into any of these guys actually harassing citizens or anything, so they didn't really have a plot point that we could see. They could have made them random encounters in the more ruin-like area's, like the hundred eyes thieves who would randomly attack you.

Fuck the checkpoint system. The whole point is to save your progress so if you die you can 'reload' to that point in time. Meaning if you fail a 100% synch requirement after a checkpoint, reloading should make it that you still have that progress and not make you REDO THE WHOLE FUCKING THING. I'm looking at you flying machine. If I'm at 100% synch so far, get a checkpoint, fail the 100% synch and then die, I should be reloading at my checkpoint with the same status as when I got the checkpoint. Meaning health, weapons, notoriety, and SYNCHRONIZATION!

The Copernicus Conspiracy was kind of pointless. It was just a bunch of assassinations of 'important' npc's.

The Da Vinci Disappearance, however, was great. Lots of story and purpose behind it, and the missions were fun and interesting. 10/10.

I also liked the modern bits. Leaving the Animus and walking around as Desmond, seeing the modern differences in Monteriggioni, was great. And also added subtle characterization. Shaun and Becca were friendly and joking with each other through email, Lucy was a bit more 'mission oriented' trying to stay serious. And poor Desmond often got ignored. He basically just got the schedule and emails that were sent to everyone. And I get that they had limited dialogue options, but after you spoke to everyone about 3 times they began to just brush Desmond off. I would say arguably Desmond is doing the hardest work, putting his very mental state on the line for these people (with little to no actual, genuine, consent from Desmond) and they can't even have meaningful conversations with him? I don't think anyone really ever asked if he was alright??

And finally, the ending. Honestly, from the climb of the castello to find the apple to the literal end of the game, was very rushed. A 'point of no return' if you will, that is not even hinted at really. And literal years pass from one mission to the next. It's all very quick and leaves little to no emotional connection to what's happening. One scene Cesare is being arrested, and the next he's leading an attack? When did he get out of jail? Did he get out himself or did he have help? And how, exactly, did Ezio know just from the apple? I don't believe the apple would have straight up said 'yo, Cesare is out of jail and attacking Viana'. That part didn't really make sense. And getting the idea to 'ask' the apple because Cesare said something along the lines of 'no chains will hold me' or whatever? Why did that make Ezio believe there was cause for concern of Cesare being freed? I'm sure a lot of people say that when being arrested.

To end this, I just want to say that I know it's an older game, and bound to have issues. I'm not saying it's a bad game, but I am saying that some of the issues could have been patched by now if Ubisoft cared to. And those patches might make it a better experience. But overall, it's a great game with 1 great DLC. (I just wish there was more Leonardo interaction! <3)

[sparrow-in-boots]

Modern timeline bits we should have gotten in AC3 but we were robbed:

big city chase scene with diving into buildings and vaulting over cars to ditch pursuers. bonus points if it's in São Paulo, the portion of Manhattan we get is too vertical for a nice free running-heavy segment imo.

speaking of, small scene of the São Paulo assassin team welcoming the group and helping set them up with what they need to get around. (it was said they were moving locations but they never said they were moving away from the city, maybe just different hideouts. i sincerely doubt the brotherhood would let themselves be thrown off a major city like that.)

on the topic of Manhattan, we should have gotten a stealth escape sequence on the way out of the building. we went through a whole thing to jump from one building to the next, there's bound to be enough security to make this interesting.

which means, access to more gear!!! smoke bombs, sound poppers, flashbangs, gun silencers, hell even improvised weapons from office supplies. i know the brotherhood is stretched thin but c'mon!

Desmond finding and releasing more animus project test subjects. He's right in the heart of the whole project and he only walks out with his dad? Nuh-uh, if there are anymore subjects (and knowing Abstergo, there is a very high chance there are), then he's also walking out with them.

an actual, sincere, thesis-lead, fight and then confession with Daniel Cross. those two need to fucking talk more than exchanging a few snide remarks at each other, i am BEGGING.

Desmond! Riding! A MOTORCYCLE!!!! Perfect way to go full circle, the thing that got him caught in the beginning is the thing that saves his hide in a pinch.

access to Bill's emails, as well as Becca's and Shaun's. i don't care if it's sus, this is a brotherhood. they are stretched thin and with windling numbers, but all the more reason to keep in touch and find solidarity and companionship on one another. i wanna hear from the other teams, i wanna know what's going on around the world with them, and i want them to reach out to each other.

BONUS POINTS if Desmond opens up about reading the team's emails back in Monteriggioni and addressing the fact that they basically tried to schedule a dinner out without inviting of thinking about him. among other things too, he was so left behind in the socializing!!

on that note, Desmond gets to talk to his mom. i don't care if it's too dangerous, let him talk to his mom!! if you're gonna make your character feel sorry for refusing the call and regret being away, then make that mean something? hell, let him send her an email at least!

Desmond, Shaun and Becca break time. No Bill, just the three of them catching up and, discussing what happened back in ACB. you kill off one of your biggest side characters and we're supposed to just carry on? i'm not having it, this can't go unaddressed for the audience, it's so cheap. (no that bit from the Juno story hours doesn't count)

Shaun and Becca being more than voices on your ear. We should have gotten a bit of them having the spotlight, maybe infiltrating Abstergo's servers to wreck havoc and cover for Desmond's escape. Maybe even giving us environment cues to use on the fight against Daniel as mentioned above. A sliding door to break a chokehold, or overloading a server to make the power go out to give you an advantage, shit like that!

The team slowly but surely tipping the scales against Bill. Yes, we all know we're in a deadline, things are tense, yadda yadda. They are still people, and you make people overwork for too long, and they break in terrible ways. Desmond should be able to bring a measure of defiance to Bill's iron fist, telling him off often so that Shaun and Becca can catch a breather too, and it helps. Which would be a great way to segue into the Bill rescue mission, it's not what he would have wanted them to do but well, his orders are shit anyway, so let's save his ass.