#agent mortem

[wexhappyxfew]

Landslide | Chapter 91 | You Ask Who I Am

"I don't know how to be anyone but who I already am. This is how I've always been. It's not much, but I do the best I can with what I have."

― T.J. Klune, The House on the Cerulean Sea  

The coffee cup was cold.

The coffee, made from ground up beans with hot water added to it, was now nothing but a cold reflection that stared back up at her. The rain on the window pane to her right was like tiny knives slicing at her skin, even as she sat inside the warm kitchen with the wet hair that lay pressed against her neck and then the blue towel wrapped around her figure, which seemed to remain cold and stiff against her skin, despite whatever purpose the thin piece of blanket seemed to hold in that moment.

" Enjoying your coffee?" she heard a voice ask and she glanced up to find Agent Mortem there in the doorway, his own hair wet and pressed against his face, the cane he usually adorned, lain against the wall of the threshold beside him, abandoned. Agent Mortem watched Natia for a moment, watched as she glanced up towards him with a cold fronted gaze like a winter storm, her white knuckled grip on the coffee mug more apparent than normal suddenly.

[read the rest on AO3 + Wattpad]

｡↷ ✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ

hey friends!!! sorry it’s been about a month since we’ve lasted visited with natia! school’s been chaotic af and i have barely had time to take the time to sit down and update! :( so i am very sorry about that bc i’ve been meaning to put this chapter out for *weeks* i tell you! this is sort of a ‘beginning of the end’ chapter if we want to call it that (insert sad face here!) and though it makes me excited to see out the end of this story and natia’s story more than anything, my heart does break a little to know it’ll come to an end. but i’ve done it before and it won’t hurt any less lol! 😅 thanks for sticking with me! :) i hope you all enjoy!

taglist: @chaosklutz @juliannetoinette @huenoclue @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @tvserie-s-world @liebegott @wecomrades @thoughpoppiesblow @cetaitlaverite @rogue-sunday @legally-devorak @alejodi0nysus @mrsalwayswrite @supervalcsi @heffrcns @xthefourthx @whoahersheybars @kryzes @papersergeant-pencilsoldier @whovian45810 @sergeant-spoons @geniedocroe @holdingforgeneralhugs @martinsrestingbitchface @pipster4107 @mads-weasley @hinkel-im-home @heirsoflilith @icantdecideofthename

-> this taglist has been floating around for about 2 years now, so as always, if you would like to be added/removed, just shoot me a message! :D

#band of brothers #landslide #bob fic #bob oc #band of brothers oc #band of brothers fic #natia filipska #agent mortem #ronald speirs #richard winters #lewis nixon #george luz #joe liebgott #(we have a full crew today) #natia also gets SLEEP #WHOS EXCITED?!?

[deathbydyingpod]

In honor of Black History Month, let’s learn about Henrietta Duterte, the first African-American funeral home owner and first woman to own a mortuary – a mortuary that was a stop on the Underground Railroad.

Abolitionist, philanthropist, and wife of a Haitian-born coffin maker, Henrietta took over her late husband’s funeral home in 1859, becoming the first woman undertaker, not just in Philadelphia, but all of America.

She became known as an undertaker who was quick, empathetic, and served folks of all walks of life. (Side note, prior to this, she was a talented tailor who wore striking capes, cloaks, and hats, and I just think that’s iconic.)

Henrietta was an agent of the Underground Railroad, and would use her mortuary resources to hide runaway slaves in coffins and disguise them in funeral processions to help them pass safely through the city.

She also raised funds for a variety of institutions in Philadelphia’s Black community, including churches and nursing homes. By the time of her death in 1903, at the age of 83, Henrietta’s mortuary had become one of Philadelphia’s most successful businesses.

In the only surviving photo of Henrietta Duterte, she is clad in black, holding her recently-deceased child in her arms – a post-mortem photo meant to serve as a family keepsake in honor of her child. There is a grief about her, and a strength.

#black history #black history month

[withered-tears]

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that the autobots aren't human.

Well, not in the literal sense. Of course they aren't human. They are giant alien robots that turn into cars, for goodness sake.

But they talk like humans. They walk like humans. Even the way they think sometimes feels extremely human-like.

So sometimes, yes, it is easy to forget they are not human.

This had the unfortunate side effect of, unintentionally, see more than one situation through a human filter, so to speak.

Such as, for example, their durability.

Because when Bulkead ran through the groundbridge carrying Bee's body, with Arcee running next to him carrying Bee's head, every human present in the base froze.

Jack's eyes were wide open, face growing pale.

Miko, in contrast, was looking almost green. Hands clasping her mouth, either to stop herself from sobbing or puking. Tears were streaming down her face.

June, although horrified, was focusing solely on keeping Raf in place.

Raf was the worst. As soon as he saw Bee, he started screaming.

June was doing her best to try and comfort the kid while keeping him from running to his friend's body. Hugging him against her chest to keep him from looking at the horrible visage.

Agent Fowler was grim, fists and teeth clenched. When Cliffjumper died, he was the one who dealt with the horrible bureaucracy of asking the bots about proper protocol. About post-mortem condecoration, about burial rites, about tradition and wishes.

Now, at least he knew the proper way to proceed, which boils down to let the bots do as they please with their dead and keep any nosy superior out of their business.

Then Ratchet spoke.

"Finally. Bulkhead, drop him in a berth, and bring me the second crate of spares. Arcee, bring the head here. I want to start running diagnostics before- Bulkhead! The second crate! I'll have to repair most ports on Bumblebee's neck, f not replace them outright."

June was the first human to speak.

"What do you mean 'repair' his ports?"

Bumblebee's head had been cut off. Surely there's no repairing that, right?

Ratchet rolled his optics (once again, such human-like gestures) at the question, barely paying any mind to the humans as he worked on Bumblebee's head.

"What, you expected me to just shove his head in place and wrape tape around it? Sorry to disappoint, but reattaching a head is a bit more complicated than-"

"Bee's alive?"

Raf's voice was awful. Voice cracking and filled with such fragile, fragile hope.

Ratchet's eyes widened (so human-like) in surprise before his entire demeanor changed.

He carefully and gently picked up Raf to bring him closer to his workstation.

"Of course he's alive. Here, look. Although his neck was severely damaged, his processors, his brain module, are unscathed. The sudden lost of power caused them to crash, which is why I'm running diagnostics through his software."

Raf, small, young, terrified, and brilliant Raf, was quickly putting the information together.

"So it's like, it's like a computer that got unplugged without being properly turned off first?"

It was obvious Ratchet was not happy being compared to such inferior, human technology. But he held any complaints to himself.

"Yeah, something like that, kid. As I said, I have to check every port in his neck to make sure they won't overload his processors once I reconnect them. Not to mention, all vital components on a cybertronian body not only receive power from the spark and energon processing, but they also store a small portion of it. Like an internal battery. Bumblebee's brain could be kept powered off for years without any side effects, other than some minor lag once reactivated. Not that his repairs will take nearly that long. I'll have Bumblebee back online in a couple of days, a week at most."

Raf was sniffing, wiping his face with his sleeves. "Can, can I help?" His voice was still scratchy.

Ratchet huffed, trying really hard to sound annoyed.

"Why not. Might as well have a second pair of optics double-checking the code. Maybe you'll even learn something."

Yeah, the Autobots were not human.

But they sure acted human-like often enough.

#transformers #ratchet #tfp #transformers prime #tfp raf #my writing #my fics #look i just love the idea of ratchet being a grumpy old man but having a soft spot for raf

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 43

Tw: some description of post mortem decay

Tegan once found herself in the mid-1980s. While here, she had an encounter with a rather stroppy teenaged waitress. This waitress was named "Dorothy." (Novel: The Crystal Bucephalus)

During funerals on Venus, the brain of the deceased is cut up and eaten by those attending. This was a way the deceased could live on as they would gain the deceased's memories this way. The First Doctor could take this in stride, but Barbara and Ian were a bit disturbed by it. (Novel: Venusian Lullaby)

Rassilon feared for the survival of the Time Lords so deeply that he sent biogenic molecules back in time that would force all life forms in the universe that were affected to evolve into something similar to what was the Gallifreyan standard. This is why so many species look similar. (So Time Lords don't look human...Humans look like Time Lords, just as Trions, Trakenites, etc etc do, because Rassilon interfered with their natural evolution). (Audio: Zagreus)

The Doctor's previous selves maintain awareness in their subconscious, and for a while, the Doctor would keep some of them imprisoned in their mind. For example, the Fifth Doctor was kept in chains in a pit. (Novel: Timewyrm: Revelation)

They also kept the Sixth Doctor imprisoned very deep inside the Doctor's mind for fear of the Valeyard. (Novel: Head Games)

Indeed, the Seventh Doctor started having dreams that his Eighth would lock him in a "room with no doors" after their regeneration. (Novel: The Room With No Doors)

The design for the Mondasian Cyberman was based off of a body scan of the Fifth Doctor. (Audio: Spare Parts)

By some accounts, Liz Shaw died of Agent Yellow, which is a virus that turns oxygen into sulfuric acid somehow. (Novel: Eternity Weeps)

The Fatkats are a race of giant, intelligent cats. They sometimes keep humans as pets. Rory was kidnapped by a Fatkat and given to his kid as a gift, and the kid renamed him Cuddles. The Eleventh Doctor and Amy eventually convinced the Fatkats to help them free Rory, and as a thank-you gift, he left them a life-sized stuffed Doctor doll for them to play with. (Comic: Humans Aren't Just For Christmas)

The Tenth Doctor once wrote a letter to the Brigadier, saying he felt guilty for not visiting and that he was thinking of him. When the Brigadier died, this letter was found lying on his bedside cabinet as though he had just been reading it. Thus, it is likely that the Doctor’s words were the last he ever read and that he might have even passed thinking about his old friend. (Novel: The Time Lord Letters)

When Time Lords die, their TARDISes do as well. (Audio: The Axis of Insanity)

The Axis is a place in interdimensional space that holds together and regulates all damaged timelines to prevent the contamination from spreading. Time Lords typically aren't welcome since they are responsible for most aberrant timelines, but one was sent to investigate when Jarra To took over. This Time Lord was later found by the Doctor, oozing pus and covered in roaches after being murdered by Jarra To. (Audio: The Axis of Insanity)

One time after stumbling on alien invaders, the Eighth Doctor and Charley used their acting skills to save the day. Charley became Lady Charleyostiantayshius, a Gallifreyan observer, and the Doctor became a transcriber from the High Council, who is pretty much Lady Charleyostiantayshius's excitable if a bit bumbling companion. They both wear the proper Gallifreyan regalia, and Charley was so good at her act that the Doctor thought she made a better Gallifreyan than he did. The Doctor convinces the captain of the alien fleet that there is a plague and gives him large quantities of the "vaccine," which is actually just straight up alcohol, so the captain gets wasted. (Audio: Living Legend)

The Doctor's memory of his first two incarnations is hazy, to say the least. (Audio: Cold Fusion)

Patience regenerated into a female form only after meeting the Fifth Doctor. The description of their prior incarnation is ambiguous in that regard. (Audio: Cold Fusion, Novel: Cold Fusion)

Peri was infected with a virus that copied all of her DNA and turned anyone she touched into a clone of herself. This included the Fifth Doctor, who started at first by repeating what Peri said and then became her. Based on the classic Big Finish noises that accompanied this, the change is graphically painful (Audio: Mission of the Viyrans)

First 1 Prev 42 Next 44

#doctor who #dw #dr who #classic who #new who #big finish #big finish doctor who #big finish audios #dw eu #doctor who eu #doctor who expanded universe #eighth doctor #fifth doctor #tegan jovanka #sixth doctor #seventh doctor #ace mcshane #eleventh doctor #amy pond #rory williams #first doctor #second doctor #barbara wright #ian chesterton #charley pollard #the valeyard #liz shaw #brigadier alistair gordon lethbridge stewart #brigadier lethbridge stewart #peri brown

[luna-rainbow]

About your reply to the anon about Maria Stark:

I thought it was made clear Hydra covered up the Starks' deaths? Wouldn't it have been undercover Hydra agents who carried out the "invesigation"? Hydra clearly took possession of the tapes, which we see in Civil War, and therefore I assume also performed the autopsies, etc. People like Peggy would have had no idea the organisation was compromised at this stage and would have no reason to have questioned what the people they employed and trusted were telling them.

The thing that doesn't make sense to me is Howard telling Tony he was going to the Pentagon when Shield was based at the Triskelion, which we know from the Antman movies was in use at this time. Especially considering Howard had the serum - surely that was something that should have been in Shield's hands? I wonder if anyone at Shield knew Howard had successfully recreated the serum. We know Tony doesn't know about the existence of Shield or his dad's involvement until Fury tells him, so I wonder if either A) Howard lied about where he was going or B) suspected/knew Shield was compromised and Hydra found out which was why Hydra intercepted him on his way to the Pentagon/Department of Defence.

The thing I really don't understand is why the Soviet sector of Hydra got involved in it at all - why did the tapes end up in Siberia instead of being kept by Shield/Hydra in the US? Why did they use the serum and not the American sector of Hydra? Why did the Soviets have the red book with the code words and not pass it on to the Americans with the Winter Soldier after the Cold War?

This is going on a bit of a tangent now but I've also found it deeply interesting that Vasily Karpov hid himself and the book in Ohio after the Cold War, which is exactly where the North Institute was based (where Alexei Shoshtakov stole Shields/Hydra's work on chemical subjugation with Natasha, Yelena and Melina undercover in 1995). No way is that a coincidence because Melina explicitly mentions the research on the Winter Soldier being used for the project. I wonder if Karpov had any involvement in that Hydra/Shield project, and to what extent. Maybe he wanted a way to control the other Winter Soldiers? Yet I would've thought if he was working with Shield's Hydra after the cold war, he would've handed the code words over and the other supersoldiers in cyrofreeze.

I've spent way too much time thinking about this.

You know how I feel about Peggy and her “ignorance” about Hydra constructing a multimillion dollar tribute to Zola right under her office. Once again, there are only two options: she is either incompetent or she is complicit. I mean — how did Soviet Hydra know Howard was about to transport the super soldier serum with enough advanced notice to wake and prep and send the Winter Soldier all the way from Siberia? This is Howard we’re talking about, one of the highest ranked members in one of the most secretive government organisations in the MCU, delivering a load so secretive he didn’t even engage his own chauffeur. You think he would go around telling everyone about this plan? Or would he…most likely have only told the other person who is at a similar rank as him, aka Madam Margaret Carter?

As for the post-mortems, did Tony not even view her body? This is Tony Stark — I know I have a lot of snark about him on my blog but he is supposed to be one of the more intelligent and STEM-educated persons in the Avengers, who has always had major trust issues and frequently looks down on other people’s competency and insists on doing everything himself. You’re saying he would not think it’s weird that there’s a CCTV right next to the damn car and it would…conveniently be missing footage from around the incident? That a sober Howard would just drive into a tree in a night with good visibility and no other traffic around (assuming Bucky obscured the motorbike’s tyre tracks)? If Bucky didn’t obscure his own tyre tracks, Tony didn’t want to hunt down whose bike that was? What I’m saying is, as I’ve always said, is that the Starks’ deaths were a massive deus ex machina to get the fight between Tony and Steve to turn personal. It wasn’t fair to Tony’s characterisation, because it made it seem like he just rolled over and accepted a very strange circumstance as a straight forward car accident when he’s exactly the type of person who would kick up a stink and question everything. (AU where Tony discovers Shieldra 25 years early?)

The location of Karpov is interesting. If I recall correctly though, the Red Room was only sent to spy on them not to work with them? As for Karpov, it isn’t unusual for branches of agencies to hide important information from each other even in the law enforcement side, so even if Soviet and American branches of Hydra had a collegial relationship I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to keep his 5 frozen Winter Soldiers hidden. And you’re right, maybe he went to Ohio to see if there are better ways to subjugate the soldiers with the intention of bringing it back to Siberia to use it on the decommissioned Winter Soldiers. 

#anti peggy carter #asks

[callmearcturus]

WE ARE SO BACK. it's been a while so lets do a full summary

Benji Dunn works as a physical therapist for all kinds of government agents. CIA, FBI, Secret Service— when anyone needs assistance getting their body back in order, they come to him. Periodically, though, a mysterious block appears on his schedule. No name, no medical history, nothing but the characters BE11. The year is 1996, and Benji meets Ethan Hunt under very different circumstances. And the ripples pull wider and wider as time moves on, until the familiar image becomes something new. A quick lesson on broken bones: If they heal wrong, you're going to have to break them again.

This is a Long Fic, reimagining the entire Mission Impossible timeline from the end of MI1 to [REDACTED]. Separated into Acts, we are now in Act Four, the last of the story. Shifts in the story begin small recontextualization, then expand over time to going further and further off-script. Thematically, in my opinion, this is a story about age and self-iteration and the age-old question what can change the nature of a person.

Chapter 31: MATCH. LIPREAD. PRE-MORTEM.

#mission impossible #benthan #ethan hunt #benji dunn #pt benji au #my fic

[gghostwriter]

Yours Truly, Romeo

Chapter 1 __ Case File No 576

Spencer Reid x FOC

Summary: Washington, DC - A string of grizzly murders and obsessive love letters causes Olivia and Spencer’s paths to intertwine. With a serial killer proclaiming his undying devotion to her and the thick tension surrounding her and her agent turned bodyguard, Olivia’s life is writing out like a contemporary love story that she, as a successful writer, could see herself publishing.

Previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter

“The healthy man does not torture others. Generally, it is the tortured who turn into torturers.” - Carl Jung

Doctor Spencer Reid knew the next case would be a harsh one based on how pale and squeamish Penelope Garcia looked entering the conference room. He knew she had little to no tolerance on for any carnage that each case brings but her attempt to make the atmosphere light or lack of attempt signaled that this was a rough one. 

“Baby girl, what do you have for us?” Morgan asked, situating himself between Reid and Rossi at the round table.

“Sadly my chocolate thunder, not good,” Garcia replied then pressed the remote to showcase three different bodies with different types of crime done to them. “These are pictures that would haunt my nightmares.” 

“Maryland PD has reached out for help on a string of murders. Three men, possibly between the ages of 27-35. The bodies were found within three weeks from each other, all in a different state of decomposition, floating by the Potomac River. Each had blunt force trauma to the head but the forensic pathologist ruled that out as the cause of death.”

“If blunt force trauma wasn’t the cause of death and there were no signs of bullet or knife wounds, the unsub must be using some type of drug to kill them,” Prentiss suggested, flipping through the case file.

Garcia presented the next slide. “Yes and they’re all missing a different body part. The first body found was Kennedy Hale, 28, skin missing from his upper arm to his hands. The second body found was Adam Smith, 30, skin and bones missing from his nose. And the third body found was Ian Cromwell, 32, skin missing from his upper torso.”

“The unsub must be removing the parts post mortem. The cut around the wounds show no sign of blood still being pumped out by the heart and they’re too clean to be done to an alive victim,” Reid pointed out. “Any connections between the victims?”

JJ shook her head. “None that the Maryland PD could find and they also mentioned that the victims aren’t from Maryland. There wasn’t even a missing report filed on any of the victims.” 

"So our unsub is kidnapping and crossing state lines with the victims,” Rossi pointed out. “But why take the risk? And why Maryland?”

“Were there any evidence left on the bodies or nearby the river where the bodies were found?” Morgan asked.

Prentiss flipped the pages before answering. “None. No ID, no belongings, no clothes on the victims.”

Reid stared at the crime scene images once again, wondering if there was any detail his eye had missed. This case screamed personal for the unsub but based on the lack of additional information, there was no rhyme or reason between the choice of victims. 

“The river washed away all possible evidences and without them and a possible connection between the victims,” Hotch stated, standing up and collecting the case file as he went. “All we have is the profile. Wheels up in thirty.”

———

“Hey Reid, you have a statistic for us on poison used as a weapon of choice in homicides?” Morgan asked on the flight to Maryland.

“Based on national statistics collected from 13,922 homicides, only 11.4% of those were committed with the use of other weapons such as explosives, fire, narcotics and more. That’s only 1,591 out of the database. Out of the total homicides, Maryland contributed 551 and only 34 of those were with the use of other weapons. Also based on statistics, female serial killers are more often to use poison rather than a male serial killer.” Reid rambled on. “Female serial killers are also know to have a longer cooling off period and kill more often for money, revenge, or attention.”

“So highly likely, our unsub is a female,” JJ summarized, looking up from her case notes.

“Not necessarily. The unsub could still be a male perpetrator,” Rossi countered. “Crossing state lines for a female unsub is highly risky.”

“That’s true,” Prentiss added on. “Having to subdue male victims and having the power to haul them to and from a vehicle seems like to much work for a female.”

Morgan interjected. “What bothers me is the skinning post mortem like we’re in Silence of the Lambs. Why bother doing that when the victim is already dead? It’s not a form of torture, that’s for sure. There’s no pleasure in torturing an already dead victim.”

“There are 14 recorded killers who skinned their victims. Dahmer, Gein, Nelson, Bell, to name a few. Maybe this unsub is keeping the items as his trophy.” Reid answered. “It could also provide a sense of gratification for the unsub. Made them feel powerful and God-like.” 

“He couldn’t have started killing randomly,” JJ added on. “There must have been a recent stressor that caused him to kill. Loss of job, family problems, and such.” 

“Let’s not disregard any possibilities due to the statistic. Look at the case with an open mind and approach from there,” Hotch cleared his throat, effectively ending any conversation. “Morgan and Prentiss, visit the dump site and see if we can get any more clues from there. Reid, JJ, Rossi, and I will head on over to the precinct to coordinate with Maryland PD. And Garcia—“

“Yes sir, what can I help you with?”

“—I need you to dig up any information regarding our victims. No information is too small, there must be some sort of connection there.”

“Got it, I will search high and low and will leave no stone unturned. Garcia, out.” She said before cutting of the call.

———

Olivia Hill was having an ordinary week day. Emphasis on was. There was no indication that anything out of the ordinary would happen at any hour of the day. She  went for her usual run around her neighborhood in Spring Valley, Washington DC. Her eggs on toast were cooked to perfection and her coffee tasted excellent. She had the regular video call with her publishing agent regarding the launch of her fifth romance book, Book Lovers. Overall, everything was going well. Nothing out of the ordinary.

It all went down just after lunch when she was taking a small break from writing her next idea that was still untitled.

“Hey Olivia,” her editor and friend, Hollie, called out from her foyer as she locked the door after her.

“I’m at the office,” she called out to her friend. 

Hollie rounded the corner to the office with a stack of letters on hand. “How’s the book idea coming along?”

“Rough,” she sighed. “It’s turning out very different from what I usually write and my publishing agent has already expressed her concerns about the change of writing style and pace.”

Hollie sat beside her and gave her a pat at the back. “Oh sweetheart, you know how Amanda is. Scared of change, how typical of a Virgo of her.” 

“Hey, I’m a Virgo too you know,” she jested back, finally noticing the stack of mail Hollie placed on her desk. “Thanks for picking up my mail, by the way.”

Hollie hummed nonchalantly, already busy reading the rough draft she had opened on her laptop. She had been her number one fan ever since they were assigned as roommates in the university, 7 years ago from now and Olivia was forever grateful to her as she was there for it all, through her ups and downs, failures and successes. She flipped through the stack of letters, mostly noting that most were junk mail. Except for one ordinary white letter envelope, unsigned and with no postage stamp anywhere.

Curious, she grabbed her letter opener and carefully sliced it open. A number of Polaroid images fell on her lap upside down. She opened the letter and a chill went down her spine. 

Dear Juliet, 

What’s in a name? that which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet.

You must look no further than I for I am your equal and perfect companion.

Look upon these images and you shall see that I am made for you as you are made for me.

Yours truly, Romeo

The letter was made with a collage of letters cut from magazine. Hands shaking ever so slightly, she gathered the flipped Polaroids and found close up images of a pair of eyes, a set of hands, and more. The images gave off a stench of creep and horror, no matter how much she looked at it.

“Oh god,” she breathed out before dropping the Polaroids all over her wooden floor like it burned her skin to touch.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!oc #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #Spencer Reid fanfiction #YTR fanfic #GW fics

[inkedobsidian]

~ I don't guess - S.R ~

summary: You’re sat in a lecture with Stiles listening to the teaching assistant, Spencer, when he asks everyone a question and he asks you and you get it right.

pairing: Spencer ReidxReader (criminal mindxteenwolf)

warnings: case violence, rape, stabbing etc.

word count: 1,098

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

“C’mon Stiles we have to start the class in literally 5 minutes why aren’t you here?” You curse through your phone at your best friend. You were currently waiting outside your current classroom at Quantico. After the Beacon Hills, you and Stiles had both been offered places at the FBI academy and you both couldn't think of anything better than living in a flat together.

“Because Y/N I don’t see why you even wanted me to take behavioural analysis with you…. And I slept in. Again.” He says laughing through the phone. He slept in way too often nowadays but you were just glad he was finally sleeping soundly again.

“Hurry. Up.” You say in the phone before you hang up laughing. You open your laptop to see a picture of You, Stiles, Lydia, Scott, Malia and Kira all at graduation. Although you loved the academy you missed your friends. Even if it’s nice not to have been shot at for a few months, which is hilarious considering you are at an academy for FBI agents. You hear someone sit next to you and you smile seeing Stiles.

“About time class is almost starting. And we have a guest assistant from the BAU!” You say excitedly. Stiles just smiles at you and opens his laptop and it’s a picture of him and Lydia. You smile and giggle.

“Shut up.” He says smiling knowing what you’re laughing at. You couldn't help it, watching your best friend finally get with the girl he's been obssessed with from the third grade made you happy. The teacher walks in and you nudge Stiles to get him to pay attention.

“Right class, we have a guest in today. Dr Spencer Reid from the BAU team.” The teacher points to the door and a tall, curly haired boy walks up.

“Holy shit…” You say looking at him. His tall skinny demeaner was adorably nerdy. His slightly overgrown hair went down the side of his face and he was so cute yet so handsome. You didn't even notice Stiles watching you react to the TA

“Don’t tell me you have a crush on the TA already.” Stiles says laughing getting his phone out to text Lydia.

“Hello class, I’m Dr Spencer Reid. Today we’re going to test practical skills so we’re going to give you an intermediate case for you to evaluate. Please review the case files under you chairs and we’ll get started.” We all pick up the folders and look through them. The bodies are real.

“Stiles, this is a real case.” You say whispering. He does a double take and his face goes white realising I’m right. There were 5 different bodies. All women, all blonde. All were raped and had no defensive wounds. There were stab wounds that by the look of the blood was done post mortem.

“Right can anyone give me any ideas about this unsub?” Dr Spencer Reid said and people begun to try and guess the current situation and most of them were bland guesses.

“He’s most likely male because of the signs of rape.”

“He clearly has a problem with blood because he stabs them post mortem.”

All of these voice fluttered around the classroom as people were trying to grasp at anything they can in the photos. I feel Stiles nudge me and I look at him.

“Lydia says go for it, with a winky face.” You start to laugh and look back at the case files reading a bit deeper into the case. You didn't like speaking in class unless you were sure of what you thought, unless you called on of course.

“How about you miss, since you haven’t spoken?” You hear Dr Spencer Reid say. You don’t understand he’s talking to you, as your nose deep into the case file, until Stiles nudges you and you look up and see him staring at you.

“Excuse me?” You ask politely embarrassed that you didn’t know he was talking to you. For the first time you both made eye contact and you couldn't help but keep his eye contact for as long as you could.

“Can you give us any information about the unsub for the profile?” He asks. You swallow and look up nervously.

“Well for starts he’s not impotent because if he was he wouldn’t be able to get it up to rape the girls. He’s used a condom because no DNA was found inside the victims. If he is impotent however he’s had to be using sildenafil citrate, more commonly known as Viagra. The fact there were no defensive wounds suggest that he doses them with a paralytic and if this guy is truly angry which is what the post mortem stab wounds suggest, then it’s a paralytic that keeps them awake. He clearly has a type for women in their 20’s so maybe a break up or a divorce was his stressor. As for his job, he asserts so much dominance and anger his job is probably over looked by many people in the scheme of things so he feels he needs to over compensate. Also the fact he’s stabbed them afterwards, further on in the report is says they weren’t found like that, this suggests he works in the mortuary, maybe even the ME.” I say finally finishing the explanation which felt like it made time slow down.

Stiles just smirks at me knowing I only said all of that to hopefully impress Dr. Reid. You weren't going to lie you fully said all of that just to impress him, after spending so much of your teenage years surrounded by violence or death you had a knack for seeing things other people missed, especially the police.

“Nice guess….” He says trailing on. You couldn't tell wether he was impressed or just thinks you made it up on the spot for extra credit.

“Y/N L/N. And I don’t guess.” I say smirking. You had no idea where your new found confidence had come from but there was just an energy flowing through you considering you knew Dr. Reids' heartbeat had just spiked. He smiles and looks away and I smile looking down. I look at Stiles and he curses.

“Y/N. Your eyes. Calm it.” I raise my eyebrows before looking at my laptop screen and seeing my eyes glowing blue and my claws showing slightly.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I say digging my claws into my hands. Blood runs down my hand and my eyes go back to normal.

“It’s like Scott and Allison all over again.” Stiles saying laughing.

“Shut up Stiles.” I say laughing wiping the blood on my bag.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid

[mettleborn]

Closed starter for @kit-just-kit

“I hear they’re sending in some city slicker from the big smoke…criminal profiler of some sort.”

“Well I hope the guy does a better job than those useless FBI agents.” The Sheriff replies with a frustrated huff, continuing to stare down at the grisly contents of the file on his desk. This is the third young woman to lose her life in just under a month – more death than his town has seen in the last decade. The victims appear unrelated, but each crime contains similar telltale signs; they’re all brunette, all in their early twenties and post mortem indicators suggest this was likely the same perpetrator, acting alone.

Redwood is a quiet place, the kind of small American town that would have been expanded out into a sprawling conurbation many years ago if not for the residents’ refusal to allow big business and commercial industry to corrupt it. It’s a friendly place mostly, people are welcoming, in the main, though tend to keep to themselves. It’s a sleepy town really, the kind where Sam, as the Sheriff, knows all the junkies and drunks by name. In truth, nothing really happens in Redwood without Samual knowing. Now, however, the whole place has been thrown into chaos and disarray and Samuel’s days and nights have been spent trying to solve these murder cases, right up until the point they were taken out of his jurisdiction and placed into the hands of the FBI. It’s not a decision Sam agrees with, but it is one he can’t argue against; the only homicide he ever investigated turned out to be a moose goring; that hardly counts as extensive experience.

Solving these murders may no longer be his responsibility, but that doesn’t mean Sam’s been able to sleep at night or stop thinking about the case since the first girl disappeared. When the first murder occurred, people started locking their doors at night. After the second, they bought security systems and firearms and now, after a third, well, people have just stopped leaving their homes altogether. Some parents aren’t even sending their kids to school.  The shock of these murders has left Redwood looking like a ghost town, like one of those prospector towns in Colorado that died when all the silver ran out.

“FBI want you to meet with them this afternoon, give ‘em a tour of the town. Giver ‘em the local lowdown.”

“Sure, stick it in the diary.” Still, Sam doesn’t look up from the file on this desk – there’s something missing, some part of the puzzle he’s just not seeing, but what the hell is it?

Morning comes and goes extremely quickly; too much coffee, too many cigarettes and far too many media enquiries. At this point the tragic recounting of these women and how each met their cruel end is seared in Sam’s brain to the point where the words themselves have become simply sounds…bound…blood…laceration, asphyxiation...it is going to be another sleepless night, he’s sure.

When 3pm finally arrives, the small Sheriff’s office has reached an uncomfortable heat in the midday sun. Shifting out of the door to sit on the wooden steps, Sam reaches for a piece of nicotine gum, then quickly ops for a cigarette instead; it’s been that kind of day…week…month. Hearing the sound of a car kicking up dirt as it slowly approaches up Main Street, Sam dusts himself off and moves to stand; this must be the profiler his Deputy was talking about.

#Closed starter #[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #kit just kit #Kit Prince #Redwood verse #((Here we go! Excited!)) #//murder #Queue

[goodqueenaly]

I think you’ve said before that A Feast of Crows and A Dance with Dragons were partly about the competing legacies of Tywin and Ned could you elaborate?

Oh yes. (More under the cut)

The opening of AFFC is not subtle about the story's judgment on Tywin's legacy - it stinks. This is the reason Tywin's corpse rots so awfully, even though nothing in universe would explain that level of decay; the author is practically hitting readers over the head with the symbolism here. Tywin's modus operandi was terror, total destruction, and an absolute lack of moral scruple in the achievement of his aims. This was true of Tywin even before we see him in the main story, from his response to the Reyne-Tarbeck Rebellion to his horrifying sack of King's Landing and the murders of Rhaegar's wife and children. Too, from the very beginning of the war in the main novels - when Tywin unleashed his favorite hellhound Gregor Clegane at the Mummer's Ford, Sherrer, and Wendish Town and empowered his lieutenants to commit any and all war crimes to bring the Riverlands to its knees - Tywin sought to win through the overwhelming application of terror and violence. Fittingly, his ultimate response, the Red Wedding, openly rejected one of the oldest and most sacred Westerosi traditions so as to ensure the complete elimination of his most prominent enemy. This is Tywin's legacy - crushing his enemies so unmercifully, so ruthlessly in order to instill a permanent fear of anyone doing so again.

So how's that legacy going post mortem, Tywin? Let's see how Doran Martell feels about it:

"You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children. It was my hope to strip him of all that he held most dear before I killed him, but it would seem his dwarf son has robbed me of that pleasure. I take some small solace in knowing that he died a cruel death at the hands of the monster that he himself begot.["]

Whoops. It would be a real shame if Doran ever had an alternate royal candidate (or two) to support over the Lannisters, wouldn't it? Well, how do the people of the Riverlands feel in a post-Red Wedding world?

“Would that it were only them,” said Lady Mariya. “Some of the river lords are hand in glove with Lord Beric’s men as well.”

“The smallfolk too,” sniffed her daughter. “Ser Harwyn says they hide them and feed them, and when he asks where they’ve gone, they lie. They lie to their own lords!”

…

“It might have been outlaws,” Ser Daven said, when Jaime told the tale, “or not. There are still bands of northmen about. And these Lords of the Trident may have bent their knees, but methinks their hearts are still … [sic] wolfish.”

...

Jaime noted the banners of Lychester and Vance, of Roote and Goodbrook, the acorns of House Smallford [sic] and Lord Piper's dancing maiden, but the banners he did not see gave him pause. The silver eagle of Mallister was nowhere in evidence; nor the red horse of Bracken, the willow of the Rygers, the twining snakes of Paege. Though all had renewed their fealty to the Iron Throne, none had come to join the siege. The Brackens were fighting the Blackwoods, Jaime knew, which accounted for their absence, but as for the rest ... [sic]

Our new friends are no friends at all. Their loyalty goes no deeper than their skins.

Whoops. It would be a real shame if an extrajudicial group in the area ever started seeking revenge for the Red Wedding by attacking and killing the people Tywin empowered, wouldn't it? Oh, and all those people assaulted and harried by Tywin's terror agents during the war?

A one-legged man stepped forward, leaning on a wooden crutch. "Your Grace, these are the bones of holy men and women, murdered for their faith. Septons, septas, brothers brown and dun and green, sisters white and blue and grey. Some were hanged, some disemboweled. Septs have been despoiled, maidens and mothers raped by godless men and demon worshipers. Even silent sisters have been molested. The Mother Above cries out in her anguish. We have brought their bones here from all over the realm, to bear witness to the agony of the Holy Faith."

...

"Some of my sparrows speak of bands of lions who despoiled them ... [sic] and of the Hound, who was your own sworn man. At Saltpans he slew an aged septon and despoiled a girl of twelve, an innocent child promised to the Faith. He wore his armor as he raped her and her tender flesh was torn and crushed by his iron mail. When he was done he gave her to his men, who cut off her nose and nipples."

Whoops. It would be a real shame if they ended up in a position to upset or even overthrow Tywin's royal dynasty, wouldn't it? Well, at least Tywin's ally in the North, Roose Bolton, has his back when it comes to upholding his legacy, right?

"Truth be told," she said, "Lord Bolton aspires to more than mere lordship. Why not King of the North? Tywin Lannister is dead, the Kingslayer is maimed, the Imp is fled. The Lannisters are a spent force, and you were kind enough to rid him of the Starks. Old Walder Frey will not object to his fat little Walda becoming a queen. White Harbor might prove troublesome should Lord Wyman survive this coming battle … [sic] but I am quite sure that he will not. No more than Stannis. Roose will remove both of them, as he removed the Young Wolf.["]

Whoops - looks like Roose learned Tywin's own favorite lesson of double dealing. And wait, it gets worse - even Roose's own allies in the North, people who hold grudges against the Starks and/or benefit from the Boltons being in power, resent what Tywin saw as his ultimate triumph over Robb Stark:

“Night work is not knight’s work,” Lady Dustin said. “And Lord Wyman is not the only man who lost kin at your Red Wedding, Frey. Do you imagine Whoresbane loves you any better? If you did not hold the Greatjon, he would pull out your entrails and make you eat them, as Lady Hornwood ate her fingers. Flints, Cerwyns, Tallharts, Slates … [sic] they all had men with the Young Wolf.”

“House Ryswell too,” said Roger Ryswell.

“Even Dustins out of Barrowton.” Lady Dustin parted her lips in a thin, feral smile. “The north remembers, Frey.”

Tywin's rotten corpse is barely cold, and his legacy is already falling apart. Everywhere you look, people don't just resent his terror tactics - they are actively undermining his work, looking to destabilize or even outright overthrow the nominally Baratheon but de facto Lannister royal dynasty Tywin so badly wanted to create. It's not going to be long before we see, to borrow Nymeria Sand's phrase, "the utter ruin of Tywin Lannister and all his works", as poor young Tommen's government collapses and the brotherhood without banners gets whatever vengeance it is looking for against the Frey regime in the Riverlands.

Meanwhile, what is happening in the North? Barbrey Dustin, who strongly hates both Ned and Catelyn (and, relatedly, supports the Bolton regime partly out of that hatred), sums up the situation nicely:

"Dressing her [i.e. Jeyne Poole, purporting to be Arya Stark] in grey and white serves no good if the girl is left to sob. The Freys may not care, but the northmen … [sic] they fear the Dreadfort, but they love the Starks."

...

["]Old Whoresbane is only here because the Freys hold the Greatjon captive. And do you imagine the Hornwood men have forgotten the Bastard's last marriage, and how his lady wife was left to starve, chewing her own fingers? What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl."

And these aren't empty words, either. The sentiment is echoed in White Harbor:

"I know about the promise," insisted the girl. "Maester Theomore, tell them! A thousand years before the Conquest, a promise was made, and oaths were sworn in the Wolf's Den before the old gods and the new. When we were sore beset and friendless, hounded from our homes and in peril of our lives, the wolves took us in and nourished us and protected us against our enemies. The city is built upon the land they gave us. In return we swore that we should always be their men. Stark men!"

...

Lord Wyman smiled. "Did you see how brave she was? Even when I threatened to have her tongue out, she reminded me of the debt White Harbor owes to the Starks of Winterfell, a debt that can never be repaid.["]

On Bear Island:

Stannis read from the letter. "Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is STARK.["]

With Alys Karstark of Karhold:

[“]I begged my father to leave one of my brothers as castellan, but none of them wished to miss the glory and ransoms to be won in the south. Now Torr and Edd are dead. Harry was a prisoner at Maidenpool when last we heard, but that was almost a year ago. He may be dead as well. I did not know where else to turn but to the last son of Eddard Stark.”

...

Alys knelt before him, clutching the black cloak. “You are my only hope, Lord Snow. In your father’s name, I beg you. Protect me.”

Among the northern mountain clans:

Even prisoners have ears, and she had heard all the talk at Deepwood Motte, when King Stannis and his captains were debating this march. Ser Justin had opposed it from the start, along with many of the knights and lords who had come with Stannis from the south. But the wolves insisted; Roose Bolton could not be suffered to hold Winterfell, and the Ned's girl must be rescued from the clutches of his bastard. So said Morgan Liddle, Brandon Norrey, Big Bucket Wull, the Flints, even the She-Bear.

...

Finally, after a nightmarish day when the column advanced a bare mile and lost a dozen horses and four men, Lord Peasebury turned against the northmen. "This march was madness. More dying every day, and for what? Some girl?"

"Ned's girl," said Morgan Liddle ...

"Ned's girl," echoed Big Bucket Wull.

...

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned's little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue."

To all of these people, the Starks in general, and Ned Stark and his line in particular, represent a long, respected tradition of justice, protection, and fair rulership - in sum, a dynasty they love and want to uphold. Lyanna Mormont boldly defies a king who could bring an army to Bear Island if he chose; Wyman cheerfully furthers his Stark restoration conspiracy right under the Frey-Bolton noses (and gets his chin partially slit for his efforts); Alys Karstark races through the wilderness alone to get to Ned's last (so she knows) surviving son; the northern clansmen march through unrelenting, indeed punishing snowstorms toward battle against the Bolton-Frey forces - these people are willing to risk their lives and the futures of their own dynasties to restore the Starks to power, because the Stark name means something to them. All of them have faith in the Starks, a faith that can't be bought with all the gold in Casterly Rock; far from killing Stark support among Ned's former vassals, his death has only galvanized them to rally around his children. Even as Tywin's precious royal heir Tommen is teetering on the edge of his own downfall in the capital, multiple factions are working toward the restoration of the Starks to Winterfell, in almost every case because they believe in Ned and the Starks as their beloved rulers (Littlefinger's notwithstanding, and even he is partially relying on a similar chivalric sentiment from the Vale's knights; too, I tend to think Sansa will use the love of Ned's vassals for him and Jon Arryn's vassals for him to overthrow Littlefinger himself).

#asoiaf meta #tywin lannister #eddard stark #affc #adwd

[cursedfortune]

A smile as sharp as razor wire.

That's how the agent referred to the witch, for she had never known any other version of her. Nestor had always wanted to know if that smile ever reached Mortem's gaze or if it died on its ascent, never to make the abyss that was her eyes gleam or show an ounce of life within them.

But Mortem was a creature that didn't rely on human rules to function. Even at her worst she could deceive or genuinely find amusement in a situation.

"If you ask me if I'm fine one more time..." The witch drawled with mirth to her voice despite the fact Nestor had yet to utter a word. Her gaze tilted, head following the motion half a second thereafter until her sights were set upon the human. There was something grim and heavy within the air and as her lips stretched and curled into a wider smile, it was cleaved. Dispersed as Mortem's will demanded some levity to their dire situation.

Conveniently, her eyes had squinted shut. Nestor's question on how the witch truly felt would never be answered in this life. A secret as well kept as the witch's true name.

"Come, we have much fury in our souls. We may as well be productive with it, hm?" And plan. Scheme. For once there were nearly no restrictions upon either of them - for dead women need not follow any rules.

#drabbles #i was doodling my gorls a little earlier and all the sketches were ominous so naturally it's endgame shit lmfao

[mistfallengw2]

What was Iotta's failure and regret? :0

@mystery-salad

The answer to both is: Tocchix.

Her biggest failure was training a perfectly capable agent during her time undercover in the Order of Whispers AND failing to convert him/bring him back to the Inquest with her. Tocchix was the only person she could ever stand being around for prolonged amounts of time (after an adjustment period in which he tried his hardest and surprisingly convinced her he was worth her time) and they worked together as a fine-tuned unit on the field (she was a rough trainer, but he was very determined), both things she was never able to do with anyone else (especially within the Inquest, much to her annoyance). Her feelings towards him weren't even part of her initial plan and made such a failure sting a lot worse, so she considers them an useless, irritating, best-forgotten matter.

Her worst regret is also tied to him, because she wrongly trusted her actual mentor above the person who had been making sure she was alive, safe and (surprisingly) happy for years. Xud promised her power and recognition within the Inquest ranks, yet didn't care about her wellbeing beyond what was useful to him and left her to die with no hesitation the moment the risk outweighed the benefits, while Tocchix only ever wronged her in one moment of distraught hesitation in the worst possible circumstances, but otherwise always put her first and actively showed it both on the job and in any gesture. He still tried to offer her a way out when they met by chance, and if things had gone differently at any point he'd have forgiven her for everything no matter how much he hated the Inquest, and still he did so after putting her to rest.

(Also one could say Iotta has failed him and regrets her choices, but that's a realization she has the chance to fully through only double post-mortem :D)

#oc asks #Iotta #Tocchix #I could talk about them for hours without even touching the AUs

[bvd11975]

I'll always remember that one moot I had years ago that was condescending and called this character contradictory.

And I'll always laugh because it's like... The entire point about Nestor's character is that she is a contradiction. So thank you.

She's the main protagonist of a story that centers around an indifferent multiverse that is currently shrinking. Any chance of a life ended before she was even classified as a preteen. Nestor never got her foot in the door to learn who she was as a person before her life became solely about survival - and when the immediate danger faded and the death count was all that was left, she didn't know what to do. She suffered more in the quiet aftermath, it felt like.

Nestor regards the humans and inhuman beings equally, as though they are individuals that possess the ability to choose and have a future they desire. Whereas with herself, she cannot conjure such a thing. The agent cannot go back to the child she once was before Pandora's Box (figuratively) opened, but whoever came after that never really fleshed out into a person. She has no identity, she never found the time to discover herself in full.

Agent Avani's childhood self clings to the hope that things will be okay. She clings to the fact the world (and universe) isn't such a bad place, that there's a future that can be forged for everyone if she just keeps working - even if it's at her own expense. But at the same time, year after year, she becomes more tired and hollowed out. The part of her soul that yearns for that hope, that safety and love grows smaller. And the weapon and shield that is an agent acting as a guardian and executioner grows. A thing that's expendable and somehow keeps surviving fight after fight regardless of how exhausted she is becoming.

Mortem (and witches) are the medium between mortals and immortals and Nestor inadvertently ends up walking the same path as a regular human. She is meant to connect with the gentle things in this world and all the fucked up ones at the same time - because she gets both. She doesn't know what she wants beyond doing her job and a lot of the time, she doesn't even care to think about it. Nestor is repressed when it comes to having an identity and she doesn't feel inclined to find one - not until something (one) manages to inspire her a little (in roleplay. In canon she never quite makes it there).

Contradictions are often regarded as something negative. But humans are full of them. It's not a matter of indecisiveness with Nestor, usually. It's normally just because she is a neutral protagonist who understands the duality of a being. Humans can possess opposite emotions at the same time, ones that contradict one another, and yet they both are valid and make sense to be present. And it goes so much further beyond that.

Being contradictory is a core function of her character. It is what allows her to be such a scary executioner - because as wrathful as she can be, it stems from a place of love and hope still. Or how comforting she can be for victims when in truth, the smile she is wearing is nothing but hollow behind it. Her desire to protect others but the moment they are safe, they fall out of mind typically. Her mentor who died she loved and feared in equal measure - yet trusted in her and her work to follow in her footsteps regardless of the negative emotions she felt just as strongly as the positives.

People are complicated. Beings in general, human or not, are complicated. Her detachment from herself only has opened her up to being receptive to the perspectives of all others - which has worked out in their favor and her own detriment. Not that she'll view it as such.

#headcanons #7am musings because i have sleep problems regardless of how sleepy i am lmfao

[rppr-podcast]

Delta Green Impossible Landscapes Campaign Post Mortem - Part 1 - Episode 200

Our actual play run of the surreal horror campaign, Impossible Landscapes, is now done. The cast and I discuss the characters, plot, and more! Find out the secrets behind the campaign and my advice for running this challenging but rewarding campaign. Maddy as Ryan West, paramedic Thad as Marley Madelyn, FBI agent Fae as Yersinia Riszek, cryptographer Rob Stith as Jørgen Nygård, undercover…

View On WordPress

#fae #maddy #post mortem #rob #ross #thad

[callmearcturus]

you'll need a new name to survive this

Working as a physical therapist to the various three-letter agencies in Washington, DC, Benji Dunn meets Ethan Hunt in the year 1996. After a turbulent introduction to the mysterious and deeply strange agent, Benji finds himself a regular pitstop, a safe haven as Ethan swings in and out of his life. After almost a decade of navigating their relationship through truths, lies, late night dinners, lockpick lessons, misunderstandings, and the occasional bouts of submission, Ethan leaves to start his life over. Five years later, Ethan crashes back into Benji's life, newly out of prison, divorced, and injured.

Chapter 14: TIME-SERVED. SOUVENIR. APOLOGY.

In which we rewind to find Ethan in prison, running a post-mortem on his life and dealing with the consequences of his actions.

#my fic #mission impossible #ethan hunt #benji dunn #benthan #pt benji au

[cryptic-64]

The Mysterious case of: Annie Borjesson

30 year old Annie Borjesson was a Swedish woman who lived in Edinburgh. She was preparing to fly from her home back to Sweden for a well-anticipated Christmas trip, she had even booked a hair appointment for her return and also paid a month of her rent in advance.

On December 3rd 2005, she leaves for her trip and airport CCTV footage captures her alone making her way to check in for her flight: when suddenly for an unknown reason she turns around and heads back out of the airport and walks off towards the local beach.

She is not seen again.

December 4th 2005, a man walking his dog came across a disturbing and saddening scene, a young woman lying still, face down under a sea wall along Prestwick beach, Scotland.

The man contacted the police, they arrived promptly in just 10 minutes and were able to positively identify her by some items found alongside her body, it was Annie Borjesson, found dead just 80 miles from her home in Edinburgh.

Between her disappearance and discovery there is only one unconfirmed report of a witness claiming to see a woman matching her description, standing at the water's edge, staring off into the distance at around 4:30pm.

Oddly Annie’s remains were moved to a mortuary within just 100 minutes from the time she was found, leaving speculation that they were unable to completely investigate any forensic evidence that could be found on scene. Investigators reason that it was due to the rising tide.

December 5th 2005, a letter from the Scottish authorities claims they suspect her cause of death was a suicide but they had not yet conducted a post-mortem investigation as of yet.

However Annie’s family firmly denied any suspicion of suicide, saying they have no reason to believe their daughter would do that.

Her autopsy was conducted at Ayr Hospital, in which her cause of death was concluded to be most likely drowning, however the report also states there was no evidence of trauma or any significant injuries, however that wasn’t what the undertaker who handled her body would say.

The undertaker who was responsible for sending her body back to Sweden says they observed “significant bruising to her body which, for reasons I cannot explain to you, I believe was not included in her autopsy report.” They specifically expressed that her body was in “extremely poor” condition.

Then the undertaker who received her body observed “finger marks around her neck”, and “extensive bruising on her body like someone had repeatedly hit her”. They also described Annie’s beautiful long blonde hair that was now chopped into a rough bob with a reported bald patch “as though someone had just grabbed it and ripped it right out of her head.”

Also tests performed on her body found microscopic creatures that come from a freshwater environment, which is strange considering she was found and supposedly drowned in the Firth of Clyde, which is salt water.

In 2023 a journalist named Hazel Martin filed a ‘Freedom of Information’ request for photos taken during Annie’s first forensic examination but was refused as it was deemed to be “not in the public’s interest.” Similarly Annie’s family have also been denied access to these photographs for the same reason.

Annie’s family believe she was beaten, drowned and placed at Prestwick beach.

One leading theory presented by journalist Kristina Börjesson states that U.S intelligence was flying suspected terrorists to various places worldworld, and they notoriously used Prestwick Airport to get prisoners from the Middle East to other prisons. The theory insinuates that agents must have somehow mistaken Annie for a suspect, which ultimately leads to her death. Adding more fuel to the theory another journalist requested to see any correspondence between the Swedicsh and Scottish governments regarding Annie’s death, but was refused because any material could “harm their relations with a foreign state”.

It is also known that Annie’s case is considered a “Classified State Secret” in Sweden.

A young woman’s supposed suicide is a classified state secret? How odd.

Rest in peace, Annie Borjesson.

#crime #truecrime #eerie #horror #creepy #tw murder #murder mystery