#detective di Seattle.

[pier-carlo-universe]

Non ho paura del buio di Robert Dugoni: Una detective alla ricerca della verità. Recensione di Alessandria today

Un thriller intenso e mozzafiato con Tracy Crosswhite come protagonista. Il primo volume della serie dedicata alla detective Tracy Crosswhite, “Non ho paura del buio”, firmato da Robert Dugoni, trascina il lettore in una spirale di misteri, segreti e colpi di scena. La trama ruota attorno al tormento personale di Tracy, che per vent’anni ha cercato la verità sull’omicidio della sorella minore…

[reidrum]

if you keep asking | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

a/n: this was requested with “if you keep asking me i’m not gonna be okay” or smth along the lines 😭 i am a glutton for hurt/comfort fics so if yall have any more requests send em in :)

summary: in which you’re trying to keep it together when you hear some detectives talking ill of you, and spencer isn’t gonna have it

cw: hurt/comfort, self deprecation, insecure!reader, bitch ass detectives, protective bau my heart, use of she/her pronouns

wc: 2.2k

_______

the bau team was filing into the bullpen after landing from their last case in seattle, everyone making a beeline for their desks to get a head start on their reports so they could go home faster. everyone, except you. it felt like you were on autopilot, remembering your last known movements and just repeating them for as long as you could.

the case in seattle was rough to say the least. the unsub’s mo seemed to change every minute, making any progress the team made obsolete. the only thing that seemed to be somewhat consistent was where the unsub was taking his victims, which meant the geographical profile was the most important part to solving the case, a task you and reid were assigned to.

it started off fine, you both had found the comfort zone of where the unsub would strike next to figure out how to catch him in the act. except the next time he struck it was completely out of the predicted range, and this time a kid had died. no one could have anticipated that happening. it didn’t make the loss hurt any less.

the team knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, humans are unpredictable, and that includes serial killers. spencer made sure to tell you specifically that it wasn’t your fault, he knew how you’d get if someone didn’t tell you.

his efforts went to utter waste when you walked by a room at the precinct with detectives whispering about how “you fucked up the whole profile, that’s why that kid died” and “it’s clear you make the team stupider, how did you even get into the fbi in the first place?”

it wasn’t the first time your abilities were in question. you were the newest member of the team, having only transferred six months ago from cold cases. you may be new to the field, but there was a reason hotch chose you personally for the bau.

you tried hard to prove yourself, despite pretty much everyone saying your skillset was enough proof. you’d stay late to finish reports, do extra research on cases to help garcia narrow her searches faster, and you spent countless hours at the training range.

you were a worthy agent, anyone who knew you or read your resume knew that. but right now, you felt like the smallest person on earth, an imposter. what the hell were you even doing here if you couldn’t save him.

you shouldn’t be allowed to feel relief that the team caught the unsub, not when there’s blood on your hands.

the bad thoughts swirling in your head causes you to stall your motions when you’re putting files away, gaining the attention of morgan, “you alright, sweet cheeks?”

“i’m good morgan, don’t worry.” you lie effortlessly. if he can tell you’re lying, he doesn’t mention it and turns back to his work.

taking a deep breath, you stand up to go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, when you run into jj finishing up making her own, “i was just thinking about you, i got this new creamer i think you’d rea-, hey, are you okay?” jj starts but ends concerned.

you try to focus on metronomic tick of the clock so you dont escalate, “i’m fine j,” you laugh unconvincingly, “what creamer did you get?”

she ignores your question, “because i know that was a tough case, and if you need to talk about it with someo-“

“jj, drop it, please.”

the blonde’s face drops a little at your sternness, but respects your space and offers you to try the creamer before returning to her desk. you feel bad for snapping at her, but the growing guilt within you is giving you apathy, and you can’t bring yourself to care at this moment.

you linger in the kitchen so as to avoid any more concerned faces, and you’re left to your own devices that are slowly overtaking you.

unbeknownst to you, spencer had been watching you since you all landed back in quantico. he kept his distance, mostly because he knew how overwhelmed you get at confrontation, especially about your emotions. he was the same way, a man of logic getting befuddled by emotion was enough cognitive dissonance to last a long time.

he knew it was different with you. you had a way of internalizing everything in your surrounding, a downfall to your endless empathy for others even if they never deserve it. he could explain the logic behind your beliefs, and hopefully use facts to help you relax, but that was the other thing he knew about you; you were stubborn. asking for help is something you hated doing, and if it wasn’t on your accord to be asking, it was even more detrimental to your mood.

so when he watched you duck out from the kitchen and push past the glass doors of the bullpen, he knew you were reaching the head of your doom spiral quickly.

spencer got up from his desk, “i’m gonna go check on her.”

jj nodded, “just be mindful spence, something feels different.”

they’d all been on cases that hit a little too close to home, how could they not when all they do is rid the world of the evilest of evildoers. but after a good cry, a rant to a teammate, or even an emergency therapy session, even the worst of the scum could be washed away.

something about the way you’ve been acting since they landed seemed like those fixits aren’t going to work this time.

he let out a sigh in response and walked out of the bullpen, realizing he didn’t actually know which direction you went in. assuming you’d want to be alone, he thinks the bathroom might’ve been a viable option for you and heads towards it.

the nice thing about the seventh floor is that it’s only for the bau, the bullpen was where the team spent most of their time but outside the doors there were so many empty rooms being used for storage.

so as spencer walked towards the bathroom in the hopes of finding you, his ears pick up on a tiny sniffle a little ways before it. he stops in his tracks, hoping he was just hearing things. but another pained sob rang through the door on his left, and he knew he’d found you.

he rapps the door a few times, softly calling your name, “hey, it’s spencer…can i come in please?”

you were on the other side sitting at one of the abandoned desks with your head down, but shot up at hearing spencer’s voice, “i- i’m fine i just needed a minute. i’ll be back in like two minutes, i promise.” you angrily wipe at the tears pooling on your face, grateful that you took your makeup off in the plane.

“honey, that’s not what i asked,” he starts, “is it okay if i come in?

your heart clenches at the term of endearment as you stare at the door knowing he was waiting for your okay to come in, and you start to internally weigh your options. you could let him in, and let him in to do whatever comforting you know logically would help. or you could lie, and feign ignorance to the end.

don’t they say ignorance is bliss?

you make sure to wipe the last of your tears and your runny nose before practicing a few fake smiles so it didn’t look like your face was frozen in sadness for the last thirty minutes. turning the knob you swing the door open, borderline creepy smile on your face as you greet the man, “hi dr. reid! was there something you were looking for?”

he furrows his brows at your complete (fake) shift in mood, but he comes in and shuts the door behind him, and moves to stand a few feet from you, “what’s going on?”

“nothing spence, i’m fine.” you insist.

spencer thinks if you could be more see through you’d be a windexed window. you’re avoiding eye contact with him, picking at the skin of your thumb, he can see your nose is red most likely from all the tissue blowing, and your eyes are still puffy and lined with some unshed tears still. you are so clearly breaking at the seams, like an old childhood teddy bear with stuffing falling out the sides yet hoping you can offer some semblance of stability despite your state.

“you don’t look fine, honey. why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

his words almost make you falter, and you think the walls you built so high are starting to chip down. “it’s not a big deal spence, i-,” a hiccuped breath gives you away, “i can deal with it on my own.”

spencer instinctively shortens the gap between you two, “you shouldn’t have to. i just wanna help you.”

“but i’m oka-“

“no you’re not.”

there is only one tiny thin thread left holding you together. “well,” you take a deep inhale and your voice gets impossibly small, “if you keep saying things like to me i’m not gonna be okay.”

“that’s why i’m here.” he says softly.

you look up at him with the biggest glassy doe eyed look he’s ever seen, and it’s like spencer can hear the snap of the thread in real time when he watches your face absolutely crumble. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace, allowing him to hold your head down in the middle of his chest while his other hand smooths up and down your back in comfort.

“i know, shh, hey it’s okay, i got you.” he comforts.

your hands wrap around his waist beneath his suit jacket and you keep your face buried in his chest, inhaling the musky vanilla scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh laundry detergent smell letting it ground you back to him.

“i’m sorry.” you cry.

“don’t say that,” he hushes, “is it about the case?” you nod in his embrace, “we talked about it remember? there was nothing we could have done. we did everything right, sometimes it just doesn’t work out, you know that.” he moves his hand to tangle in your hair and rub your head.

“i- i know,” you say through labored breaths. you take a big breath before admitting the true reason for your anguish, “when we were about to leave, i walked by a room with some detectives talking about how i ruined the case and that…i’m the reason the kid died.”

“what?” he pulls back to look you in the eyes hoping to find any indication that you didn’t believe those poisoned words, “we both worked on that geographical profile together, the whole team agreed it was accurate and acted accordingly. what happened was not your fault. at all.” he emphasizes the last two words.

“yeah but…i don’t know maybe i could ha-“

“stop. you can’t do that to yourself. we did what we could with what we had, the burden of that child’s passing does not fall on you. we were only able to find the unsub’s hiding spot when you figured out he’d been going to the same gas station since the murders started.” he reinforced to you.

“they said that they didn’t know how i even got into the academy in the first place, and that i make the team stupider.” you quietly added.

spencer felt the rage consume his body, already planning the ways he was going to obliterate seattle pd. he cradled your head to look at him in the eyes, “listen to me. you are an important asset to this team. you make this team better at what they do, you make me better at what i do. you mean so much to me and the team okay? please don’t forget that.”

he swipes at a fallen tear on your cheek as you tell him between sniffles, “thanks spence…” you hope he understands the sentiment and love you’re trying to exude to him, even thought you’re unable to vocalize it.

“you gotta tell me if something like that happens,” he softly scolds you, “i’ll make sure they lose their fucking jobs.”

you’re about to speak when he cuts you off, “and don’t tell me that we should be the bigger people, because once the rest of the team hears about this, they’re all gonna be fighting over who’s gonna kick the shit out of them.”

you let out a tearful giggle, “you sound really funny when you curse.”

he scoffs, “what the hell, i do not!”

“you sound like a baby duckling that just learned how to say fuck.”

he starts to guide you out of the room and towards hotch’s office so you can recount what happened, “ouch, i’m hurt. i’d like to think the pistol and fbi badge i carry makes me intimidating.”

you giggle again, and spencer puts aside his rage to revel in the fact that you’re feeling better.

when hotch learned of what happened he immediately called seattle pd to file a motion to get those detectives fired, and the rest of the team were secretly praying for a case in seattle again so they could, as spencer predicted, kick the shit out of them.

[lightgaswaterelectricityrent]

Reporters tantalized their readers with stories about the “plutocratic Osage” and the “red millionaires,” with their brick-and-terra-cotta mansions and chandeliers, with their diamond rings and fur coats and chauffeured cars. One writer marveled at Osage girls who attended the best boarding schools and wore sumptuous French clothing, as if “une très jolie demoiselle of the Paris boulevards had inadvertently strayed into this little reservation town.”

Many of the Osage would rush to see a gusher when it erupted, scrambling for the best view, making sure not to cause a spark, their eyes following the oil as it shot fifty, sixty, sometimes a hundred feet in the air. With its great black wings of spray, arcing above the rigging, it rose before them like an angel of death. The spray coated the fields and the flowers and smeared the faces of the workers and the spectators. Still, people hugged and tossed their hats in celebration. Bigheart, who had died not long after the imposition of allotment, was hailed as the “Osage Moses.” And the dark, slimy, smelly mineral substance seemed like the most beautiful thing in the world.

A short, stout man, with a luxuriant mustache and a shock of red hair, Burns had once aspired to be an actor, and he cultivated a mystique, in part by writing pulp detective stories about his cases. In one such book, he declared, “My name is William J. Burns, and my address is New York, London, Paris, Montreal, Chicago, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Seattle, New Orleans, Boston, Philadelphia, Cleveland, and wherever else a law-abiding citizen may find need of men who know how to go quietly about throwing out of ambush a hidden assassin or drawing from cover criminals who prey upon those who walk straight.”

Meanwhile, Ernest’s aunt was muttering, loud enough for all to hear, about how mortified she was that her nephew had married a redskin. It was easy for Mollie to subtly strike back because one of the servants attending to the aunt was white—a blunt reminder of the town’s social order.

Hoover demanded that his staff wear dark suits and sober neckties and black shoes polished to a gloss. He wanted his agents to be a specific American type: Caucasian, lawyerly, professional. Every day, he seemed to issue a new directive—a new Thou Shall Not—and White put on his big cowboy hat with an air of defiance.

Blackie, evidently enjoying himself, looked squarely at Burkhart and said, “Ernest, I have told them everything.”

The judge advised the jury members that they must set aside sympathies or prejudices for either side. He warned, “There never has been a country on this earth that has fallen except when that point was reached…where the citizens would say, ‘We cannot get justice in our courts.’ ”

In 1932, the bureau began working with the radio program The Lucky Strike Hour to dramatize its cases. One of the first episodes was based on the murders of the Osage...The broadcasted radio program concluded, “So another story ends and the moral is identical with that set forth in all the others of this series….[The criminal] was no match for the Federal Agent of Washington in a battle of wits.”

The historian Burns once wrote, “To believe that the Osages survived intact from their ordeal is a delusion of the mind. What has been possible to salvage has been saved and is dearer to our hearts because it survived. What is gone is treasured because it was what we once were. We gather our past and present into the depths of our being and face tomorrow. We are still Osage. We live and we reach old age for our forefathers.”

Killers of the Flower Moon, dir. Martin Scorsese // Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann (3/3)

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for a Fic...

Happy New Year, everyone! May it treat you kindly! ~Mod L

~*~

1. hi, for the next itmf could you recommend some good 'police au' ? preferably wangxian oriented. I'm really into all that police, crime, csi etc. stuff :] thx in advance <3

🧡 CSI: Gusu Edition Series by Stratisphyre (M, 39k, WangXian, WWX & LQR, Modern with Magic AU, College AU, Golden Core Reveal, Single parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Hospitalization, Allusions to violence and murder)

a garden in your ribcage by puddingcatbeans (G, 13k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, soft witches au, Developing Relationship)

doing the wrong thing wholeheartedly by isabilightwood (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivation, mentions of creatures from other cultures also existing, Enemies to Lovers, meet ugly, Case Fic, There Was Only One Bed, Fakeout Makeout, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Bathtub Sex, Hair-pulling, Edging, Fluff and Smut, Post-Coital Cuddling) these are modern with magic case fic where wangxian are investigators, not sure if this would work?

When a Bird Flies, It Leaves Feathers by Bem_Kofi (Not Rated, 75k, WangXian, Modern AU, Police, Police Officer LWJ, Medical Examiner WWX, Minor Character Death)

Keep Track of Losing Days by giraffeter (T, 74k, WangXian, Modern AU, Case Fic, Police, Missing Persons, Mystery, Getting Together, Flashbacks, Rooftop Conversations, Detective LWJ, antifa WWX, Endgame NieLan, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, First Kiss, First Meetings, Seattle, Mutual Pining, nonfatal car accident, mafia wens, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers)

~*~

2. Hiiii! Happy late holidays hope you all r having a good one, im wondering if there are fics of Divergent by Veronica Roth (the book/movie) aus with wangxian, or threadfics, blogs, posts etc.

~*~

3. Hi! Merry Christmas for those who celebrate! I wanted to say how thankful I feel for this site, and how you made me find stories I would not have read otherwise if it were not for you. I just read Misalignment, by Kasasagi, and I loved it! I want to recommend it and also ask if you know more of this kind of stories were WX is not the main pairing, but still has an amazing plot. Thank you!

Eyes Wide Shut by Netrixie (T, 65k, LXC/NMJ, wangxian, canon divergence, no sunshot, everyone lives au, enemies to friends to lovers, identity porn, mistaken identity, misunderstanding, slow burn)

Emergency Help Wanted by Piyo13 (T, 76k, wangxian, modern, fake/pretend relationship, lawyer JC, everyone lives au, fluff, slow burn, happy ending)

easier, with you by pinkfluffygiant (T, 34k, LJY/LSZ, summer camp au, disaster camp counselors, pining, friends to lovers)

~*~

4. may i ask for fics where wwx helps with sunshot, but he either manages to hide his demonic cultivation, or (with help?) frame it positively so he doesn't end up feared or hated after they win? maybe he's even (god forbid) admired or something? thank you!

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together)

if you can't beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 216k, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family, WIP)

~*~

5. my lovelies, my fanfic deities. Praise be to you! I am down a rabbit hole again and in desperate need of your help. I have a serious craving for canon-complaint/post-canon (or divergent, but not completely left field AU) fics where WWX has a fear of heights. Specifically, as a result of his being thrown into the BM off a great height. Discussions of it, descriptions of it manifesting, working through it, etc; panic attacks get bonus points but aren't obligatory.

Red Flower With One Hundred Petals; Smoke Carried on the Blue Dusk Air by carolyncaves (T, 32k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Alcohol, Mental Health Issues, Angst, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, thoughts of death/dying, Caretaking, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Fluff, Family Feels, Literal Sleeping Together, Shotgun Wedding, angry wedding planner JC, Yunmeng sibling drama and fluff, physical affection, Terrible Parties, Happy Ending, for WangXian) perhaps this might work? WWX had to be taken on someone else's sword twice and panics both times

~*~

6. Modern wangxian meet past wangxian

Write It on My Neck by diamondbruise (E, 23k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Transmigration, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Fake Marriage, Falling In Love, Jealousy, Happy Ending, Anal Sex, Spanking, usual wangxian cnc elements, Misunderstandings)

Crazy Little Thing Called Time by kippalittlefox (T, 11k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

7. Hello I have a request but I am kind of new here. I can figure out how comment a request. -- (this first part put into a finder post)

Also if you know if any fic where wei ying takes the 33 lashes instead of lan zhan. I'd appreciate it. I hope you are enjoying the holidays and that you have a week. @autumnchild26-blog

If I Could Go Back in Time by Runningbarefoot (M, 122k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, YLLZ WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, The Twin Jade Brotherhood, Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Slow Burn)

~*~

8. pardon the double ask 😅 but could you also recommend some Lan Qiren redemption fics? im generally chill about him haha but it would be lovely to see him genuinely sorry about his treatment of his nephews (especially like, after seeing LWJ's steadfastness after having been whipped 33 mfing times, or even for his part in lwj's lonely childhood) and/or WWX, and extra lovely if he took steps to fix it and rebuild a better relationship! thank you!!

hi! i sent #8 and i thought maybe i should add that i love the 'good uncle lqr tag' and there's a significant overlap, but i'd love to see fics that don't start out with him being good, more (hypocritically) angry or patronizing toward lwj/wwx and then realizing his flaws or (bonus) working to redeem himself (i had time to read cabbages and it it's great, thanks for the rec!)

In Walls of Glass by Comfect (T, 23k, LXC & LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, CSSR & LQR, wangxian, LXC/JC, good uncle LQR, teacher LQR, canon divergence, everyone lives au, fix-it, butterfly effect, JC friendly, LQR pov, not WWX friendly, in LQR’s head mainly and at the start, family feels, demonic cultivation, cultivation theory, WIP)

Cabbages by dreaming of your qin (sherleigh) (G, 20k, LQR & WWX, LQR & LWJ, wangxian, post-canon)

they might want to check out the Good Uncle Lan Qiren tag

~*~

9. may I have some fics where WWX became a Supreme Ghost? @sareen-momos-stuff

🧡 The Red Ribbon by Xiao_Hua (M, 21k, WangXian, HuaLian, Canon Divergence, Ghost City, a bit of beefleaf, Immortality, Cultivation Partners, Juniors, XL and HC find a child who happens to be WWX, Fluffy wangxian, WWX is a Supreme Ghost King, First Time)

Back From The Dead by Suibian_613 (T, 44k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, HuaLian, XuanXuan, XinQing, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Supreme Ghost King WWX)

~*~

10. Hiiii. For the next itmf fic rec, can you please recommend some with virgin wwx and experienced lwj. Thank you.

Lan-Laoshi! by Bee_Li (M, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, age gap, Professor LWJ, College Student WWX, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Desk Sex, Pre-Relationship, College/University, Hair-pulling, CreamPie, LWJ is in his early thirties, WWX is like 21-22, Experienced LWJ, LWJ Fucks, inexperienced wwx, Virgin WWX, Kinda dark LWJ, Hand Jobs, First Time, Spit Kink, Spit As Lube)

all the trembling ways by typefortydeductions (E, 11k, WangXian, First Time, Overstimulation, Verbal Humiliation, Rimming, First Time Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Aftercare, sex tears, lwj FUCKS, Modern AU, Dom/sub Undertones, Porn with Feelings)

kiss me more (we got nothing to lose) by xeansiao (E, 5k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Couch Sex, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, College/University, Dirty Talk, Let LWJ Say Fuck, lwj FUCKS, Masturbation, Dom/sub Undertones, Pining while fucking, Nipple Play, Nipple Licking, Pining, POV LWJ, Size Kink, Size Difference, Under-negotiated Kink, Feminization, Degradation)

Wei Laoshi, Poonslayer by FeelsForBreakfast (E, 6k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV LWJ, straight boy wwx, Loss of Virginity, Getting Together)

i'm the one for your fire by occultings (microcomets) (E, 42k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mind Reading, Enemies to Lovers, it's only enemies to lovers in wwx's one braincell, Misunderstandings, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Whump, brief illness/injury, Pining, light bdsm in the first chap, Cherry Magic AU, Getting Together)

the earthquake in the room by phnelt (E, 39k, WangXian, College/University, Modern: No Powers, Canada, Getting Together, Mentions of lwj/others, inter-faculty romance, strangers to lovers to frenemies to lovers, mostly book characterisation)

The Keeper by phnelt (E, 3k, WangXian, PWP, A/B/O Dynamics, Sex Work, virgin wwx, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, Dom LWJ, sub wwx, Undernegotiated Kink, BDSM, Ruined Orgasms, a/b/o typical fluid kink, Dom/sub, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics)

thrice as cruel by iliacquer (E, 15k, WIP, WangXian, Switching, Masochist WWX, Sadist LWJ, BDSM, Kushiel's Legacy Fusion, Dubious Consent, Sex Work, Courtesan LWJ, Submissive WWX, Dominant LWJ, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Consensual Non-Consent)

~*~

11. Hello! First of all, thank you for everyone’s hard work- I love you all!!💖

Second of all, I was wondering if you had any fic recs (or NEW fic recs) with a possessive/jealous/v protective Wei Ying. I love this trope but feel like I’ve read them all 😅 Thank you!

A storm without a warning by Spodumene (E, 22k, wangxian, LWJ/MXY, modern, compulsory heterosexuality, masturbation, eventual smut, pining, denial, drunkeness, jealousy, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending)

It’s Over Isn’t It by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 68k, WangXian, LWJ/OMC, Oblivious WWX, Jealous WWX, One-Sided Attraction, Canon Divergence, it says Lan Zhan and another character but it’s all one sided, we got a love triangle baby, Canonical Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort)

Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX)

hold up a mirror by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 36k, wangxian, modern, fake/pretend relationship, misundersandings, pining, eventual smut, happy ending, self-discovery, insecurity, dancing, loneliness, friends to lovers)

Orchids in Lotus Pier by Vamillepudding (G, 21k, wangxian, canon divergence, romantic comedy, pining, protective JC, friends to lovers, misunderstandings)

Your Song Called Me, Can’t Believe I am Late by Padma_Warrior (M, 25k, wangxian, WIP, protective wwx, yiling laozu wwx, angst w/ happy ending, not gusu lan friendly, hurt LWJ, bottom LWJ)

~*~

12. For the next itmf, I would really like to read more fics that show canon (or near-canon) events from NHS’s POV. I’m looking for fics where he’s not part of a ship or aren’t specifically tagged ‘Nie Huaisang POV’ or ‘Nie Huaisang-specific’ as I can find those on my own. Thanks so much!

~*~

13. Hello! Happy almost new year! I'm looking for fics where WWX gives his golden core to LWJ instead of JC, thank you!

~*~

14. Hi! I'm looking for something where any member of the cast has chronic illness and either uses cultivation to manage it, or maybe in wwx's case, the loss of his golden core exacerbates, or causes? Bonus points for friends + family members finding out + trying to help (or not lmao). All the best, hope your festive season is going well! @crying--crow​

let the sun go down on your anger; let it burn you to sleep by enbysaurus_rex (Not rated, 78k, wangxian, WQ & WWX, graphic depictions of violence, chronic illness, narcolepsy, chronic pain, YLLZ WWX, oblivious WWX, sleeping beauty elements, body horror, WIP) has WWX suffering from narcolepsy, which the transfer does NOT help.

Instead by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, like self-indulgently so, by way of dark(er) gusu lan, manipulative elders, but in a good way?, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, of sorts, not Jiang friendly, not really gusu lan friendly either, not particularly friendly towards anyone really, aside from wangxian of course, Cultivation World Critical, Sunshot Campaign, Fluff, Politics, Courting Rituals, possibly implied mpreg, Genius WWX, Talismans, No demonic cultivation, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ) might count

A Burning Cold by MountainRose (G, 29k, Chronic Illness, Pre-Canon, Nirvana in Fire Fusion, Character Study, Wen Bullshit, Suibian, Snow Beetle Poison) Nirvana in Fire fusion with WWX in the position of Mei Changsu

silt, or scurvy series by astronicht (M, 11k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, chronic illness, podfic by raitala)

~*~

15. itmf cisswap wangxian where wwx has big breasts? I've read a lot if lesbian wangxian but i've barely seen ones where wwx has a bigger chest and im curious if there are any i missed.. (sorry this is a bit weird!)

~*~

16. Here's an odd request, but I'd love some fics where LXC is supportive but Deeply Confused about WTH is going on with Wangxian. I recently (re)read "I started from the bottom/and now I'm rich," and LXC's concern that WWX might plan to murder LWJ on their wedding night is hilarious to me. I also loved the fic (forgot the name, sadly) where LXC is extremely straight and thinks LWJ is only with WWX because he's never been with a woman and therefore doesn't realize what he's missing. (Oh, I remember this one, it was hilarious to read ~Mod L) Both these fics are light and play the misunderstanding for laughs. So that's what I want: fics where LXC means well and tries to make LWJ happy, and is hilariously off-base about it. Are there any more other than these two? @invisible-mirror​

The Flautist by oleanderedits (T, 1k, wangxian, double entendre, humor, comedy, canon divergence, LXC pov, sex worker au)

❤️ happy not knowing by plonk (not rated, 16k, wangixan,  canon era, clueless Xichen, established relationship, Mojo’s bookmark) the fic mentioned.

speeding up my heartbeat by plonk (Not Rated, 24k, WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Modern with Magic, Modern AU, Gyms) lxc is very supportive but helplessly straight and therefore clueless

~*~

17. Hello! I’m in the mood for fics where the MDZS characters interact with modern characters. Thank you <3!

take me back to a time by DizziDreams (T, 143k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, college/university au, canon-divergence, time travel, sharing a bed, fish out of water, angst with a happy ending, man out of time, slow burn, character death, angst, reference to abuse, canonical character death, canonical abuse, canon-typical violence, mutual pining, chronic illness, not exactly a fix-it, podfic available, implied 3zun, college student wei wuxian, genius wei wuxian, found family, pov alternating)

Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what  you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack,  whatever - it’s all good!***

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Impossible Man ✨ 2. A Case of You ✨

Modern-Day Detective! Din Djarin x Witchy! Reader (Soulmates! AU)

Previous Chapter ✨ Series Masterlist

Summary: For someone being born into a magical family, a curse placed on the women of your bloodline means you have mostly avoided witchcraft and its calling for the majority of your life. After a life-altering tragedy, you turn your back on your family and your gift and seek out a more normal, boring existence, devoid of magic, and mostly, of love. What happens when the ghosts of your past threaten your peaceful existence and you are forced to reconcile all that you have lost? Will you let the people you have abandoned in your past life back into your heart? Will the appearance of an impossible man you have unknowingly cursed yourself break the chains of love? Will you let him?

Chapter Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Magical Realism, Mentions of (Attempted Suicide), Implied Violence, Domestic Violence, Improper Usage of Belladonna (use a measuring device!), Mentions of minor character death, (Some) Men are the absolute worst, Petty theft (by Din), Meddling Vi and Omera (the dream team), This is severely un-beta-ed (I will fix this! don't worry!), someone dies multiple times in one night and I am not sad about it ONE BIT.

A/N: Detective Din Djarin enters the chat.

Banner by @chiriwritesstuff ✨ Dividers by @saradika

Word Count: 8.7 K (WHOOPS)

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Seattle, Washington. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for our descent, be certain your seat is upright and your seatbelt is fastened. Thank you for flying with Delta Airlines, and we hope you have a good afternoon.

Ten years. 

It's been ten years since that awful, god-forsaken, terrible night.  

Ten years since you turned your back on it all. Your family - on Fennic, on Omera, on Vi. Ten years since you picked up the little urn of Ben’s remains at the crematory. Ten years since you packed up the entirety of your life in that little apartment in Queen Anne - your dream home - closing the door one last time, entombing all of the laughter, the late nights in bed holding each other, all of the love you made, never to be opened ever again. Ten years that you swore that you would never come back. Ten years since you flew yourself down to Montauk, Ben in that little urn, in tow - to where he was born and raised - scattering his remains at the edge of the ocean -  like how he would have wanted. He loved Montauk - its beaches, its little seaside villages along the coast. You didn't want to bury him - here, in Washington, in Seattle, far away from home, rotting until his body dissolved into worms and merged with the Earth, ceasing to exist. He promised you, that you would go back once this was all over - he just didn’t say that it would be like this. That it would end, like this. 

You ran. Your feet bare, running on the cool wet dew of the grass as you flee the only place you ever felt was home, your heart still raw and broken and cracked from the devastation and betrayal by the people you thought you loved the most. You found yourself at the edge of your aunt's property, along the vastness and depth of Puget Sound - screaming for the crashing of the waves to consume you whole.  Take me, take me, take me instead, you begged to the universe, to god, to whoever could be possibly listening.  

You didn't know what hurt more, the fact that you allowed yourself to bring an unsuspecting soul to be dammed by your selfishness, or the fact that it was your flesh and blood that led you down this path in the first place - forcing you to question every interaction, every poignant moment in your relationship - if it was real, and genuine, without the magical push or influence of a spell. You were okay before, before the possibility and eventuality of Ben - You resigned yourself to be alone, to be kind to whoever would bring the prospect of companionship by sacrificing your heart, your desires, your childish hopes and dreams. Being with Ben was to appease the little girl who believed in the notion of being loved, or allowing that little part of you - that tiny bit of delusion that lay dormant in you for the first twenty or so years of your existence - to doubt something so monumental as being cursed, with a possibility of love and a connection, a devotion - that was so deep, so meaningful that you dared to be happy, to be blissfully in love, knowing that in the back of your mind, where reason actually existed - that it had an expiration date. That it was always there, chained by fate, bound by magic, written in blood. 

Who were you to think that you were the exemption?

It was a setup - the precinct, the press, the official report written by Detective Djarin, said. 

You never did end up going to the station that night - to meet your husband's - Ben's- faceless partner who messaged him in the early morning with the promise of a lead, a promise of this hell to be finally over with.  We got him, the text read. Yes, you got him, Detective Djarin - but at what cost? One soulless bastard for the life of another? Hell, you blamed him - Din Djarin - a rookie recruit from New Mexico - you blamed him the most, and you've never even met the guy.  

Ben was always careful. He was never brash, or cavalier - he was meticulous - he planned everything to a T, didn't burst through the doors guns a-blazing, always upheld the statures of the law. He never put himself in a position on the grounds of a hunch, no - he had too much self-preservation, he had too much to lose. Perhaps it was in his carefulness that they partnered him up with Din in the first place. Ben was a good detective - but he had no backbone. No edge. Too soft in a job where you needed to be hard. Too compassionate, too fair. It was all that he was lacking - that his younger new partner embodied. Ben was in awe of him. Wanted to prove himself in the eyes of the rookie detective that he could be all of these things, that he could - and would - do the things necessary to get the bad guy, no matter the cost. To lead by example.

But where did that get him? 

Shot in cold blood, left to die. 

Sure, we didn’t forget about the curse. But if we were completely honest, if Detective Din Djarin didn’t light that fire up his ass in the first place, he would have stayed, with you, that morning.

No. You’re both complicit. 

Din Djarin may have made him more bold, more brash, and maybe even a little more brave. But it was you, and your childish hopes, and dreams, and your need for this insignificant thing that you call love - it was you that signed off on his eventual demise the moment you let him in, the moment you selfishly brought him into your orbit. 

Starshine.

Your eyes open, your head pressed onto your keyboard as your eyes adjust to the lack of light in your apartment. You glance at the bright white glare of your computer monitor, 12:14 a.m. at the corner of the screen. Groaning, you force yourself to sit upright at your desk chair, flexing your toes and stretching your back from all the stiffness you would feel after sleeping at your desk.  

"Starshine," you hear in your mind, your sister's pained voice reverberating through your bones. Your eyes scan through the mess of your tabletop, looking for your phone among the chaos.

15 missed calls.

35 text messages

1 voicemail, 10m 

Vi.  

Fuck, when was the last time I checked my notifications?

You call her back.  

We're sorry, but your call cannot be connected as dialed.

*Hi Starshine, I know it's been a while...*

*Are you there?*

*I miss you*

*There was a strange man that came in looking for you, he was kind of cute, in a weird, kinda intense way!*

*I met someone! His name is Geoff!*

*Are you busy? I need to hear your voice*

*Please talk to me, I miss you*

*I'm in trouble, Starshine, I'm so scared...*

Your eyes scan through the texts, the urgency and pain of your sister's plight being frantically sent out - in secret - you deduce, her feeling of duress flowing through you as if you were in there in real-time, ducking against the corner of the room, behind her bed, trembling in fear in complete darkness, the heavy pacing and the silhouette of a man's feet behind her bedroom door. You can feel the moisture of her tears, the white salty streaks staining her face.

"Fuck!" you whisper as you pace around your apartment, the skyscrapers of New York City illuminating your windows.  

Oh god, what's happening, Vi?

The phone in your hands starts to vibrate, Vi's face illuminating on the screen.  

"Vi? Where are you?" you whisper.

"Come home, Starshine... I'm scared. I need you.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

Next stop, Westlake Station.

You rest against the window of the rail car, holding up your right hand as you delicately touch the healed-over scar. You think back on the last night you were in Seattle, knocking on Vi's door, your bags packed for Montauk.  

"I feel like I'm not going to see you again, Starshine. You don't have to do this!" she says tearily. 

You smile at your sister sadly, considering your next words, hopefully enough to placate her nerves.  "Don't worry, Vi. We'll grow old together. It's going to be you and me living in a big house... these two old biddies with all these cats. I bet we even die on the same day." 

"Come here," you pull Vi towards you, grabbing your Swiss army knife out of your pocket. You cut your palm diagonally, wincing.  

"My Blood," you whisper, grabbing ahold of her hand as you do the same to her palm.  

"Your Blood," you smile at her as you grasp your bloody hand with hers.  

"Our Blood." you both say, embracing your sister for the last time, the tears falling on your face, smiling sadly at your sister as you press a kiss on her forehead.  

"Be good, Vi Vi. I'll see you soon."

You gather your overnight bag and sling your backpack on as you stand to exit off of the link light railcar onto the platform. It's early evening on a balmy October day - Not quite cold enough for a scarf, but enough to warrant a coat - Ben's coat, the only item of clothing of his you allowed yourself to keep, its edges starting to show signs of wear. You shove your hands into its pockets, and fiddle for the Orca card to check out of the station.  

With muscle memory you exit out of the station to head out into the bus stop for the #3, heading towards Queen Anne. You adjust your overnight bag strap on your shoulders, brushing a stray hair behind your ears as you take in the cold fall night, the familiarity of your youth washing over you in nostalgia. As charming as New York City is in the fall, there's something about the charm of the Pacific Northwest - the slow swaying of the trees, the falling leaves, the crisp, clean air. The hustle and bustle of NYC was nowhere to be found - no disgruntled yelling or heckling, no sea of yellow cabs honking in the distance.  

Vi is already waiting as you walk up to the duplex from the bus stop, standing on the porch, leaning on the front door. She’s dressed in a silk nightgown and thin, long cardigan, the cherry tip of her cigarette in one hand, the other hugging her waist. She's different - the ten years of time and distance taking a toll on her once bright, delicate features. She's thinner now, more frail - you can see the hollowness of her cheeks, the sallow beneath her eyes. 

"Geoff isn't home," she greets as she fidgets with the cigarette, biting the bottom of her lip as she nervously glances at you - skittish, apprehensive. "It's Freaky Fridays at the bar - he won't be home until at least midnight."

"Vi -"

She crushes you in an embrace as she sobs, completely falling apart in your arms. Her tears soak into your coat and she's wailing, wailing, wailing - a bevy of "I missed you so much" and "thank god" repeated, like a mantra.  

You shimmy out of the embrace and grab both of her arms to inspect her - raising your hand to graze the purple bruise that had bloomed on her cheek. She flinches, her mouth flinching in pain as you gently palm over her face. She smiles sadly back at you, her hand covering your own on her face, closing her eyes as you wipe away her tears. You press your forehead onto hers, breathing her in.  

"He's been really crazy, you know? today he says he wants a jelly donut, and he says to the kid, 'Jelly donut, with cream' and the kid looks confused! and I said 'Geoff, Jelly is not a cream' - and the kid, he laughed and I laughed, and he punched me! he punched me real hard! Bastard!"

"Does he know where the aunts live?"

"No, but they're at the solstice celebration-"

"Pack a bag, Vi, we're leaving."

You stand guard by the door as Vi hurriedly shoves things in her bag, running throughout her side of the duplex as she seemingly grabs things at random.  "Have you been in it yet?" she asks as she shoves a box of granola into her weekender - "I haven't... no one's been in it, not since... and Geoff thinks we should rent it out, you know, make some money out of it, but, I told him we couldn't - it's not mine, it's yours -" she speaks a mile a minute - not unlike how you remember all those years ago - as she shoves what seems like 20 pairs of underwear, zipping up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

You hurriedly push her out of the door, fumbling with the keys as you lock it, guiding her down the steps - Damn these shoes! she exclaims - making your way down the street, towards the bus stop.  

"Oh!" Vi suddenly stops in her tracks. "Blood on the moon!" she whispers, pointing to the sky.

"I know" you reply.

She’s clutching her chest, pulling at the nightgown as she pats down her threadbare coat, pulling out the cheap polyester pocket lining, stopping in place as she looks back up the street.  "Where's my tiger's eye? it brings me luck, I left it, I need to get it back!"  she breaks out of your hold and breaks out into a sprint towards the house, pulling her shoes off, running up the pavement, not once caring if her feet are bare.  

"It's probably in the bag, Vi, come on!" you run after her, up the porch stairs. "Vi -" you say as you stumble back into the apartment, stopping in your tracks as you are suddenly gazing at a man - Geoff, you presume - struggling with Vi, pointing - is that a gun? - at you. Geoff - his commanding presence heightened by his striking, dark features. His tousled hair, as black as midnight, framed a face chiseled with sharp, defined angles, giving him an air of both ruggedness and refinement. Deep-set, intense eyes, the color of smoldering coals, held a hint of mystery, their gaze both penetrating and enigmatic. He smiles.

"Ah. Starshine! The prodigal sister finally makes an appearance!" he belts out as he motions the barrel of the gun towards the couch.  "Okay, Okay," you say meekly as you slowly make your way to it, your hands in the air as you refuse to break eye contact, your sister shaking uncontrollably in his grasp.

He wedges the gun in the waist of his pants - between fabric and skin. He's still clutching onto Vi - grabbing the bottle of tequila that's on the coffee table. He sloppily thrusts it towards you in a - would you like some? - demeanor as you turn your head away from him. He sits on the chair across from you, perching Vi on top of his lap, licking her neck as she squirms.  “Shhh. Let the adults talk, okay?” he whispers as he brings a finger to her lips. 

"Hey, Starshine, you know all about books, right? Have you ever read any books by Louis L'Amour?"  You shake your head, refusing to meet his eyes as he shakes his head in disappointment.

"Okay, well - Louis L'Amour is a foreigner and he loved all things cowboy. Just like me, Geoffy-boy. So Louis would write stories about rustlers. Rustlers who were really bad guys."

You glance at Vi's direction. She twitches - slightly, if you had blinked, you would have missed it, motioning to her bag next to you on the couch.  "The belladonna is in my bag" you hear Vi's voice clearly in your mind. You nod, looking at Geoff as he babbles on, lighting a cigarette and perching it on the corner of his lips. You slowly edge your pinky towards Vi's purse.

He flicks the lighter back on as he starts to wave it over his ring - a bulbous silver skull - "They would try to steal the cattle. But before they could sell them they would try to take away the brand of the owner with an acid, or by - He suddenly rubs the ring furiously on the chair cushion - "...scrubbing. Unfortunately, they could never get rid of it. So they would be caught and get hanged."

"What are you doing?" you nervously ask as he brings the flame of the lighter back onto the skull of his ring, waving it back and forth, heating it as he takes another drag of his cigarette. He grabs the meat of Vi's thighs.  "Come on! You can't hide the brand. It's just you and me."  he tells her as he attempts to brand her with the skull, Vi thrashing in his grasp as you take advantage of the distraction, clutching onto the glass vial of the belladonna. "Let her go!" you cry out, jumping onto your feet into a semblance of a fighting stance, not caring one bit about the ridiculousness of it.

He laughs at you as he raises his hands in mock surrender.  "Relax, Starshine, live a little! Have a drink with me!" he motions towards the tequila bottle on the table.  

"Shut up! Louis L'Amour by the way - is not a foreigner! He's from North Dakota, you asshole!" you mouthed angrily while you snatch the bottle, taking a sip while Vi suddenly grabs his face, crushing her mouth towards his. You quickly pour the entire vial of the belladonna down the tequila bottle, shaking it as you hand it back to Geoff. He takes a long drink, winking as he places it on the table. He looks at you with a tinge of satisfaction.  

Two hours later, Vi is beside herself as Geoff is taking a - rather long - piss. 

"It should have worked by now," she nervously paces the living room, biting her nails. "I don't think you gave him enough."

"I gave him plenty!" 

Just as you are about to throw the bottle of Belladonna at Vi in frustration, Geoff slithers back into the room, a sinister look on his face. He smirks at you as he approaches Vi.

"You know, girls. I'm feeling very into sisters right now."

He suddenly grabs Vi by the throat, throwing her on the ground as he straddles her.  "I LOVE YOU, VI! WHY DON'T YOU WANT TO BE MY WIFE?!"  You immediately launch on him, pounding your fists on his back "Get the fuck off of her!"

"Starshine! Starshine stop! he's out!" Vi says as she pushes him off.  

"OH MY GOD!" She shouts, scrambling onto her feet as she looks at him dead on the floor, his vacant eyes staring back at her, his skin sickly pale. "How much did you give him?" she looks at you frantically.

"I don't know, Vi, he was threatening to kill us, it's not like I had a measuring cup!" you retort as you kneel next to him, slapping his face, willing him to wake up. You grab onto his shoulders, shaking him with as much force as you can muster.  "Wake up, asshole!" you angrily mutter as you slap his face again.  

"What are we going to do?" Vi cries out in a panic.  "We can't go to the police, they're never going to believe us!"

"It was in self-defense!" you shoot her a questioning look.  "Wait. What do you mean that they wouldn't believe us?"  

"Well, I doubt the whole slowly-poisoning-your-lover defense would win over the Seattle PD" she snarks as she rolls her eyes, pinching her nose as she paces around the room. You eye her waringly.

"What are you thinking, Vi?"

"When Ben died, you asked the aunts to bring him back," she states, matter-of-factly.

"They wouldn't," you answer bitterly, kicking Geoff as you collapse onto the chair beside him.  "Get to the point, Vi."  

"They wouldn't, not couldn't" she replies simply.

You shake your head.  "No, the aunts were right. He would have come back dark and unnatural."

"Geoff's already dark and unnatural! I don't care what he comes back as, just as long as he comes back!"

"No, Vi, that is not an option. That isn't even a choice!" You head into the kitchen, filling up a glass of water and drinking it, shaking your head in disbelief.  This is not happening, you think.  

"We don't have a choice, Starshine! This is our ONLY choice!" Vi throws up her hands in frustration.  "Do you want to go to jail, or do you want to help me fix this? Because I'm sure Ben is rolling in his grave right now!"

"He was cremated, Vi."

"You owe me big time" you mutter to Vi as you help her carry Geoff out of the back seat of his car, having been forced to drive from Queen Anne to Tacoma to access Bainbridge Island from Narrows Bridge. 

"Watch his balls!" Vi exclaims, leading you into the kitchen as they half drag, half carry Geoff's stiffening body to the dining room table.  "Okay Geoff, I will get you out of this but after that, we are over!" she declares, slapping his face.

"What are you doing?" 

"Nothing!" she retorts, running past you as she grabs the Spellbook from the other room, placing it near Geoff's head. You push her aside, flipping through the weathered pages.  "Are you sure you want to do this? He's still fresh, we could still convince the police that it was in self-defense!"

Vi gives you a satisfied smirk as she nods. "Absolutely."

You take a deep breath.  "Okay. Lips pursed, emit wind over tongue in motion, teeth on edge." you purse your lips, executing the needed motion with practiced precision as Vi tries to mimic you.  "Good enough, good enough."  You cut open his shirt, "Touch bounded smudge of blue sage with braided wheat straw." 

"Okay, repeat after me. 'Black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, Mighty Hectate make it right."  you nod to Vi.  "Black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, Mighty Hectate make it right."  You hand Vi a needle, positioning yours to one of Geoff's eyes.  "insert needles through the eyes of the corpse."

Vi looks at you with disgust.  "Through his eye? Maybe we should wait for the aunts"  You roll your eyes.  "It's not like he's going to stay fresh forever! Stop being a baby and let's finish this!"

You chant the incantation repeatedly, angling the needle at Geoff's eyes as they suddenly focus on you. You drop the needle in bewilderment, your hand covering your mouth as Vi gasps in shock.

"Geoff?" she asks timidly, circling the table. He suddenly shoots up from where he lay, his hand reaching out to Vi's throat as he shrieks.  

"WHY WON'T YOU BE MY WIFE?" he wails unnaturally as he strangles her, pinning her to the wall as she claws at him. You grab the first heavy thing you can find around you - a cast iron skillet? and BAM! swing at Geoff, the impact so strong he drops like a sad sack of potatoes.  

You're breathing heavily as you drop the skillet, glancing over to Vi as she clutches her heaving chest.  

"Please god, if you get us out of this, I'll be good! I'll settle down and be normal for once! No more one-night stands!" Vi pleads to the sky as she helps you dig a shallow grave near the rose bushes.  

It's the middle of the night, and in typical Bainbridge Island fashion, the heavens decide to throw a torrential downpour into the mix. After killing Geoff - for the second time that night - the both of you decide to cut your losses and bury him in the aunt's backyard, all semblance of reason out the window. What's one less asshole walking on this earth? If you think about it, in the grand scheme of things, you actually did humanity a favor. Bye bye Geoff, don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out. 

"Normal? Really Vi? I had normal! For ten years, I had my quiet boring non-magical life! and it was fucking amazing!" you sharply retort as you carve out the earth, the heavy downpour soaking you to the bone.  "I worked really hard for that normal, thank you very much!"

One Geoff-sized shallow grave dug later, you both unceremoniously dump his twice-deceased body into it, spitting in it for good measure.  

"I hate to be the one to say this," you say to Vi as you start to shovel "but you need better taste in men."

She rolls her eyes at you, her wet hair sticking to her face as she pushes it back behind her ears.  

"Yeah, no kidding." she laughs, rolling her eyes.  

"Not a word to the Aunts," you stomp on the grave to flatten it out.  "Not one."

You wake up to Vi puttering around the room the next morning. You groan as your eyes register the sudden influx of light streaming out of the windows through the blinds, you yank a pillow and cover your head with it, groaning.  "It's too early, Vi."

"I need to open the store today," Vi is puttering around your old bedroom, walking into the closet as she shuffles through clothes.  "We have to 'maintain normalcy', right?"  she pulls out a dress, inspecting it, while looking at you hesitantly.  "... do you want to come with me? I bet you miss it, the aunts kept it the same..." she continues as she slips on the dress. She smiles.  "Come on. I can work the cafe and you can work the register... it'll be like old times. The store misses you too. Misses its rightful owner, you know. Mom left it to you, not to me." she pointedly adds, pleading her case.  

You sigh as you sit on the edge of the bed.  "... I don't know, Vi. The last time I was here..." You take a deep breath, a flash of Ben's smile cycling through your mind.  "It's been too long, and I don't know if I can... exist here, you know?" 

“…but you love the store,��� Vi says as she holds up another dress, a blue long sundress with moons and suns printed on it - tossing it in your direction. “… and Ben knew you loved it too. I think that if there was anything you could do for him, especially in death, it would be to be happy, you know? Maria’s was your dream, and it still can be only if you just let yourself try.” She smiles as she picks up her tote bag, slinging it onto her shoulder as she kisses the top of your head. “Just one day, please? For me? For old time's sake?”

Vi gives you her best puppy-eyed look and pouts her lips.  

You groan and cover yourself with the covers.  "Fine. One day, and then I'm flying my ass back to New York!"

She smirks, covertly looking at your burrowed form.  "That's all I ask."

Maria's Curiosities and Books is still the same.  

The bookstore slash cafe, opened 30 years ago by your mother, remains pleasantly intact in the heart of Capitol Hill. You remember running through the racks and stacks of secondhand books, mostly about all things magical and occult, piled haphazardly throughout the store. You used to spend hours tucked away in the corner of it, the old leather loveseat tucked away amongst the sea of books and knickknacks and the random bits and bobs. You remember running your fingers through the cracks of the worn leather of the couch cushions, the wafting of the freshly ground coffee beans permeating throughout the nooks and crannies of the store, your mother's beautiful smile looking back at you from behind the register as you would tuck yourself in, deeper into the love seat, making yourself right at home.

Vi hands you your shop keys, giving you a small nod as she guides you to the entrance, the door already decorated for Halloween.  

"The aunts did it before they left," Vi says, grabbing her phone out of her tote bag - I want to commemorate Starshine's big return, ten years in the making! - her camera app at the ready as you push the store key into the lock.  

You slowly turn the key in the lock, gingerly swinging the door open as you flick on the lights like you have hundreds of times before. You gasp at the familiarity of it all - as you realize that Vi was right - they haven't changed a thing, not one thing at all.  

Everything is still how you left it, ten years later. 

You make your way to the register, the vintage incorruptible cash register you found - like happenstance! - at the Goodwill, one day - still on the weathered countertops but with the addition of an iPad beside it, bringing this store up with the times - Vi's idea, surely.  

Vi holds out your mother's hat - a pointed velvet blue hat with silver stars running along throughout - the Storybook lady's hat - out to you.  "I figure since Omera isn't here... if you would do the honors today." You slowly place the hat atop your head as Vi grins.  "Right back where it belongs," she says with a satisfied look.  

You blink away the tears.  "Thank you, Vi, for watching over the store for so long," you pull her into a hug, the feeling of being home finally coursing through your veins, the gentle warmth spreading through the coldness of your bones.  "... I mean it."

"You promised me, you know," she says through her tears.  "...that you would come back."

You remember when you finally took rightful ownership of the store after you graduated from the University of Washington, waking up at the buttcrack of dawn, shuffling behind the register with bright-eyed wonder as you would look at the picture frame - the one with the photo of your mother, Fennic, and Omera clutching each other, smiling brightly as your mother held up the keys in triumph.  

This was her dream.  

... and then it became yours.  

“Daddy, can we go see the storybook wady this weekend?”

Din looks at his five-year-old son as he sits on the dining room table, pushing around the cereal in his bowl. His hair is in disarray from sleep, still in his Star Wars pajamas as he watches cartoons from his iPad.  

“If you can be good with Aunt Peli today, maybe we can go see the storybook lady tomorrow, adika,” he replies, mussing his son's hair as he sits across from him, blowing on his coffee. He gives his son a knowing look.  "... that means no jumping into her pond grabbing frogs, okay? you almost gave her a heart attack the last time, baby."

Grogu smiles at that, his front tooth missing as he happily scoops out his cereal.  

Din doesn’t know why he started to frequent Maria’s Curiosities and Books all those years ago. He knew of its owner - hell, you were all his partner would talk about, if he wasn't talking about work. He knew that you had inherited it from your mother, taking it over from your aunts the moment you graduated from college. He also knew that that's where the both of you had met - you and Ben, that is, a chance meeting that seemed so serendipitous, it must have been written in the stars. A perfect "meet cute", Ben would say dreamily, a fond smile creeping on his lips as he recalled that day to him. You managed to bewitch him, body and soul, he claims, from the moment you wiped the spilled coffee you accidentally poured on him, your firey eyes locking on to his as you profusely apologized for your clumsiness. Ben knew that he was a goner.  

Naturally, Din was curious - no, he was intrigued - by the bewitching woman who managed to render his normally stoic partner into complete devotion. The notion of love, and happiness, and all the bells and whistles that came with it - was such a foreign concept to him. It was a distraction, a distraction he would never think he would ever allow himself - no, he was so against the thought of bringing someone - someone innocent, someone trusting, and devoted - into the fold of the chaotic nature of his life, knowing that any moment, any day, any second would be his last. It came with the territory, this profession. He knew what he signed up for the moment he stepped into the police academy that first day. The academy warns you about that shit, that your days are counted the moment you accept that badge. He was ready for it, hell, it's all he's ever wanted - the badge, the honor, the brotherhood. He lived and breathed the creed of justice - ever since his parents were taken from him - all those years ago, back in his home in New Mexico, in front of his eight-year-old eyes, in cold blood. 

... and then it happened. 

It was an anonymous tip, sent to his work phone in the middle of the night.

Bleary-eyed, he swiped to the unread message, sent 1:13 am, one sentence. An address, "Gideon spotted" accompanied by it. He shot out of bed immediately, eyes wide, his bare chest heaving, his grey sweatpants slung low on his hips suddenly hot and restricting.  

He would be lying if he said that Gideon wasn't the reason that he pushed for the transfer to Seattle PD in the first place - hell, he's been on his trail since he got his promotion to detective a year ago back in New Mexico. He had hunted him - his parent's killer - his mortal enemy number one - with the determination of a bounty hunter for as long as he can remember. No one would make the connection - He was thrust into the foster care system back then, assigned to a spitfire of a woman - Peli - who gave him his name - Din Djarin - the moment she decided that she wanted to adopt him. He's been lying in wait, in anticipation - for a long time. This was his life's mission, the promise that he made to himself all those years ago, that it would be his hands that dealt the final blow. It would be his hands that Gideon's blood would stain, and he would enjoy every fucking moment of it. 

He considered the gift that had been handed to him at that moment. Pacing through his bedroom, he weighed out his options. This was his case, his one loose end that he had to tie up. He had the skill, the strength, and the willpower to see it though. He didn't necessarily have to bring anyone else into the fold of it - he didn't have to involve his unsuspecting partner - Ben - with his penchant for following the rules and meticulous planning, who didn't just burst through the door, guns a-blazing - his partner who had everything to lose. Din didn't have that, didn't understand the feeling of having people being left behind on his behalf. Ben understood the need for justice, he just wasn't aware of the emotional weight this person - this scum of the fucking earth - had on him. He wouldn't understand the obsession that he had with Gideon. Ben had questioned it - once, why finding Gideon was so important to him.  He's a bad man, who has done many bad things to innocent people - he’d replied cryptically.  Why wouldn't we pull out all of our resources to see this though?

Against his better judgment, after hours of deliberation pacing through his apartment in the cold early morning, he makes his choice.

Meet me here, he types, attaching the address to Gideon's last known location.  We got him.  

This is a bad idea, he thinks to himself as he stands outside the bookstore. 

He sighs, groaning in frustration as he makes his way inside Maria's Curiosity and Books a few weeks later after that pivotal day, the tinkle of the bell announcing his presence to its occupants.

He had tried to get into contact with you, sending hundreds of text messages, voicemails, and after-work visits to your apartment that you shared with Ben - all of his feeble attempts - all unanswered.  

He had hoped, that even though he was the harbinger of bad news, you would show up at the station that night. He understood why you didn't - instead being met with a steely woman - your Aunt - Fennic, was it? - who came on your behalf. She identified the body with an uncompromising gaze, nodding once as she immediately walked away, a fragment of emotion breaking through her impassive face as she pushed past him, out the door, as soon as she had walked in. He felt the levity of the pain that this woman carried, the sorrow she tried so hard to contain - that he couldn't even fathom the weight of the pain that you must have been experiencing, if not hearing your broken sobs through the phone wasn't enough. If heartbreak had a sound, he reckons, it would be the sheer devastation that he heard from your cries that night, becoming the soundtrack to his regret and nightmares - to follow him for years to come... and it was all his fault. All of it.

He approaches the woman behind the counter, her smile bright as she reads a letter - do people still write those? - a cup of coffee on the counter, stirring it with a spoon. At least he thought she was because he swears he sees the spoon stirring on its own - am I hallucinating? He thinks to himself. Spoons don’t do that.  

As if the woman senses his presence, she quickly grabs the spoon, stirring it once more before placing it on the saucer beneath the coffee cup. She places the letter she was reading next to it, cracking a smile. 

“How can I help you today, sir?”

He scratches the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t mean to be forward, but are you the owner?” The woman suddenly looks surprised, covering the letter with her hand. 

“Uh… I’m not. That would be my sister, and… she doesn’t live here anymore. Not for the last few weeks, at least” she says sadly.  “May I ask why you’re looking for her?” 

“An old friend told me about her and this store. I’m a… big fan of secondhand books and I heard that this is the best place for it” he lies. 

“Well, it certainly is” She smiles as she holds out her hand. “I’m Violet, Vi for short. It’s funny that you bring Starshine up, she just sent me a letter, all the way from Montauk!” She motions to the letter. 

Montauk? New York? Is that where you ran off to?  "I didn't realize that people still corresponded that way."  He motions to the letter.

"Ah, well, Starshine is a writer and a bit of a romantic." she retorts, "I don't mind it one bit, at least she reaches out, right?"

“Vi!” A woman’s voice yells from behind the cafe area, “Can I bother you a bit?” 

She flashes you a contrite smile. “Sorry about that, duty calls. I’ll be just a minute.” She says apologetically as she hurriedly makes her way to the other side of the counter. She appears a moment later, a take-out cup of coffee in her hands.  "Omera was testing out a new recipe that Starshine was conceptualizing a bit before she left. She figured that a new face should test our wares out" she says, handing him the cup.  "I hope you like cinnamon chai, it's Starshine's favorite."

“Thank you” he gingerly takes the cup, taking a sip. “Wow, it’s good. Really good. Starshine thought this up?” Vi nods, her eyes quirking as if she notices something peculiar.  

He takes another sip. Her eyes follow the motion of his hand, eyeing it waringly. 

“Huh.” She says. “Is that…” she motions to his hand, “a bullseye tattoo?” 

He looks down at his right hand, at the junction of space between his thumb and his pointer finger, frowning. “Oh, yeah. I used to doodle this on my hand at school randomly, I thought I would immortalize it, I guess,”  he replies sheepishly. 

"How interesting," Vi responds cryptically.  "How very interesting."

"Perhaps you felt compelled to draw it," another voice cuts in, an older woman with ethereal features approaches Vi from behind the counter. She nods to the cup. “I’m Omera. Enjoying the chai?”

“Oh, yes. I love cinnamon. Reminds me of the churros my mother used to make back home.” 

Vi chuckles.  “It’s funny, Ben - her husband - was allergic to it, so Starshine could only drink them here.” Din coughs at that.  

"Would you like to see her?" The older woman asks. "Starshine?"  She hands him a framed photo of you, at your college graduation. “That’s her Aunt Fennic, my sister” she points to the poised-looking woman beside you. The woman from the precinct.  "... and Vi and I. It’s my favorite photo of all of us." She says fondly.

“She’s beautiful,” Din finds himself saying aloud before he can stop himself. Cut the shit, Djarin, her husband just died - in your arms - for fucks sake. He internally grimaces at the thought, especially in the company of your family.  

He clears his throat.  “So Montauk. New York. That’s where she’s been? seems far from home, don't you think?”

Vi looks at him suspiciously.  "What are you, a cop?" she says jokingly, folding up your letter and placing it neatly atop a pile of books. He notices now that there are many photos of you - with Vi, with your parents, with the Aunts, with... Ben. There's a wedding photo, your face in the crook of his neck, as Ben beams into the camera. There's another one, of you kissing Ben - the sudden stab of jealousy notwithstanding - an errant thought in the back of his mind screaming mine, mine, mine - on his cheek. All of these photos, a chronolized timeline of your life, framed in mismatched picture frames, lining the countertops of the bookstore - your bookstore. He swallows, fiddling with the collar of his button-down.    

Vi motions to the wedding photo.  “Her husband - he grew up in New York. He was a detective. He... died in the line of duty. A setup, gone wrong. They managed to get the guy, but Ben was caught in the crossfire. After what had happened - she... went up there to settle his affairs."

Din tries hard to portray his ignorance.  “… yeah, I read about it, in the paper. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Vi nods, wrapping her arms around her small frame as she looks at Omera.  "She took it pretty hard. She - she doesn't let many people in, and Ben..." she stops as she considers how to approach her thoughts.  "... it devastated her. She wasn't the same after that."

He nods solemnly. Blinks furiously to mask away the tears.  "So, she uprooted herself there? What about the bookstore?"

Omera gives him a sympathetic look. "We'll carry on until she's ready to come home. That's all we can hope for, right?"  She appraises you as if deciding something.  "What's your name?"

Din considers this.  "Uh, Mando. Call me Mando," he says as he holds his hand out to Omera. She shakes it, her eyes with a hint of questioning, like she can't quite believe him.  

"Hey! Vi! Omera! Can I get some help here?! Sometime within this century?!" a voice calls out from the back, alerting the two women to look towards the back of the store. Vi gives him one last look as they leave him be.  "Excuse us, Fennic is on the warpath this morning. It was nice to meet you, Mando."

As they retreated towards the rear of the store, his gaze fell upon your abandoned letter resting on the countertop. With a quickening pulse, he scanned the area, ensuring that no prying eyes were upon him. Stealthily, he slipped the letter into the recesses of his coat, hastening his exit from the store.

It's not until he's in the safety of his car that he unearths the folded piece of paper in the confines of his coat pocket, the paper radiating warmth as he finds himself compelled to smell it, the paper sweet and spicy and musky all at the same time. Cinnamon. He imagines that it smells exactly like how you would smell, imagines the way your hand held the pen as you wrote exactly what your heart was feeling. He pushes the nagging guilt of intruding on your privacy - He just... needs... something, anything to placate his interest. To see what Ben saw, to understand his partner's last words that he said to him, begging, in desperation, in resignation.  "Promise me you'll take care of her, please, promise me. Tell her that I love her and that I'm sorry... that we couldn't go back."  Ben gurgles, his body convulsing in pain as Din pressed down on the gunshot wound, frantically calling for backup. "Tell her yourself," he tells his partner for the last time.  "Just hold on, you're going to tell her yourself."

He was cold, dead in his arms by the time emergency services reached them at the pier.  

"I promise."  He whispers, staring out into the void.

He turns his car on, the reverberating hum of his car coursing through his body. Joni Mitchell's 'A Case of You' starts to play as he gently holds the letter - your letter - in his hands.  

Just before our love got lost you said

"I am as constant as a northern star"

And I said, "Constantly in the darkness

Where's that at?

If you want me I'll be in the bar"

He takes a deep breath.  

He gently unfolds the letter and begins to read.  

Dearest Violet -

Sometimes I feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. The moon tonight, there's a circle around it. Sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole, of not wanting to sleep each night, wanting. But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing... I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I had my happiness. I don't want to believe it but, there is no man, Vi. Only that moon. 

I miss you, 

Starshine

He doesn't register the tears that are flowing out of him until the first teardrop falls onto the paper, the wet ink streaking down the page upon impact.

Din and Grogu make their way down 10th Avenue, his adopted son humming happily along as they make their way to Maria's Curiosities and Books - as promised for Grogu's good behavior - Oh, he was just an angel! not one frog didn't even go to the pond! - Peli exclaims - the Storybook Lady's - Omera, he found out - wooden sign out near the entrance.

It feels different, today. There's something in the air, there's a pep to his step as he walks down the street, Grogu in hand.  

It started when he woke up in the morning. He normally groans at the weight and reality of a new day, the looming reminder of his age and his knees and his back screaming out to him in silent agony. Din normally likes to relish in the calm of the coldness of fall, the little bit of peace before Grogu makes his presence known by jumping onto his bed, willing for his father to wake up already - we have to go see the Storybook Wady! - his lisp not quite pronouncing the words as he stifles a laugh.  

Din takes his time to get ready in the morning today as if compelled by an unknown force - a feeling in his bones - that shaving his usual unruly scruff is going to be so, so, worth it. He silently whistles along to Joni Mitchell's 'A Case of You' softly playing throughout through the Bluetooth of his speakers - his favorite song. He's still whistling along as he walks into his closet, freshly shaven and showered, his long wet curls slicked back into submission, as he takes an extra minute to actually be aware of what he's going to wear today.  

I feel like such a schoolboy, caring like this, he chuckles as he throws on a deep grey cable-knit sweater, settling on a pair of dark jeans that don't have any holes in the knees.  

I remember that time you told me

You said, "Love is touching souls"

Surely you touched mine

'Cause part of you pours out of me

In these lines from time to time...

He's still humming along to the song as he drives down 10th Avenue, Grogu beaming with untamable energy, bouncing in his car seat in anticipation of the day. Does he feel it too? the magic that's in the air this morning? he thinks to himself as he gently tells his son to settle down.  

It must be happenstance, he thinks, as he manages to find a parking stall along the normally busy street - already packed with locals and tourists alike - in a stall where he doesn't have to pay for metered parking or grimace at the prospect of having to carry his son - his too-big baby boy - for blocks to Maria's.

For once, everything seems to be going right. It must be my lucky day, he smiles to himself as he ushers Grogu to the entrance of the store. 

He's still whistling to Joni Mitchell as he opens the door - Grogu already letting go of his father's grasp - shrieking as he makes his way inside, running towards the other children sitting in the middle of the room, near the paper mache castle near the back, the storybook lady hat resting on its stool.  

"Hey, Vi -" he begins, his voice getting caught in his throat all of a sudden because there you were, behind the counter, dressed in a blue sundress and an oatmeal oversized chunky cardigan, your eyes bright and your lips - god, your lips - forming into a smile, smiling at him. It's as if time and space and the universe ceased to exist... 

"Starshine." He breathes, his feet frozen in place. 

Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine

You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling

Still I'd be on my feet

I would still be on my feet

I met a woman

She had a mouth like yours

She knew your life

She knew your devils and your deeds

And she said, "Go to him, stay with him if you can

But be prepared to bleed"

Oh, but you are in my blood

You're my holy wine

You're so bitter

Bitter and so sweet

Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling

Still I'd be on my feet

I would still be on my feet

Taglist: @strawberri-blonde

[th3houseofleaves]

LIVE or DIE ?

you have seven days to make your choice!

welcome to DEATH'S DESIGN, a universe of my own creation, loosely inspired by multiple sources, including: death note, saw, final destination, and the ring.

death's design takes place in SEATTLE, washington and follows casimir anderson's time of taking the powers of death into their own hands in order to enact justice on a society they viewed as corrupt. as they gain a reputation, basil leroux, a renowned detective and security consultant begins working on the case to solve the mystery behind the true identity of the killer known as THANATOS. little does he know he's working in close proximity of the mastermind behind thanatos' crimes – casimir "call me cas" anderson inserts themself into the case, offering assistance in order to obscure their own connection to the deaths.

with what little evidence they have to go off of, basil tirelessly searches for answers. he spends hours watching and rewatching the videos that surviving targets received telling them to confess their crimes and beg their new god for forgiveness. he analyzes every bit of information that can find on thanatos and still, despite his skill, he finds no answers. only leads that go nowhere and a prime suspect innocently helping him organize papers and offering their own theories on the case.

the questions he most desperately wants answered are: WHO is THANATOS? and HOW do THEY KILL?

the events of death's design occur after casimir has a chance encounter with the personification of death itself. during this encounter they manage to acquire the book of the dead; inside it they find pages upon pages of names and dates and causes of death. at first they think that perhaps they have the diary of a murderer, a list of all their victims and the manner in which they killed them. but it quickly becomes clear that that is not the case as the flip through an impossible number of pages, finding entries dated for the future and entries from far further back than there would be any record of.

any theory behind the book's existence that they can come up with is impossible, yet they keep circling back to these outlandish thoughts, wondering what they might do if this book truly was a ledger of the dead. so, after some consideration, they found their first potential target — a man who's reckless driving caused an accident, taking the lives of six people. he was going to go unpunished, all because he had the money to afford a lawyer capable of twisting his crimes so that he escapes blameless.

it was irrelevant that the lawyer he was paying to get him off was casimir's estranged mother, that had very little to do with their choice. at least that's what they tell themself.

they found his name easily, the book opened to the page they needed, as if it knew what cas wished to do. they scratch out the day the man was supposed to die – a time many, many years into the future – and they write in the next day's date instead. they assume nothing will come of it, it was merely a silly experiment that would bring no results. when they woke up the next day and saw a report of the man's death on the news, it felt like the world stood still.

they had done that. a man had died because they willed it so. the power of death was their's to control. they alone have the POWER to RID the world of those who's crimes go UNPUNISHED.

this was the beginning of THANATOS, the dawn of a new age where casimir anderson was j u d g e, jury, and executioner.

additional links: carrd, pinterest, basil introduction, casimir introduction, thana introduction, & main account.

template credit: @jessource

psd credit: @kaijucatrph

[dertaglichedan]

Part 2: Who is D.B. Cooper? The Bombshell Discovery That Could Solve Infamous Hijacking

Part 2 of a series. For 53 years, the only unsolved hijacking in the nation's history has remained one of world's greatest mysteries. The bombshell discovery of the parachute likely used by D.B. Cooper in his infamous hijacking may finally close the case.

This is the second of a two-part series. Part one detailed how new evidence has been unveiled that may crack the D.B. Cooper case, America’s most notorious and only unsolved hijacking 53 years later.

For 53 years, the only unsolved hijacking in the nation's history has remained one of world's greatest mysteries. 

On Nov. 24, 1971, a passenger who checked in as "Dan Cooper" parachuted out of a Northwest flight somewhere between Portland, Oregon, and Seattle with $200,000 in ransom he'd received in exchange for sparing the lives of the passengers and crew.

The man, who was later misidentified by the media as D.B. Cooper, a name that stuck, was never seen or heard from again. 

For decades, the FBI and hundreds of amateur detectives have been clamoring to solve the mystery with little success. 

Some believe he didn't survive the jump, while others speculate the infamous hijacker was a titanium research engineer from Pittsburgh who died in 2002, among many other theories. 

One theory that remains the strongest was that D.B Cooper wasactually a man named Richard McCoy II. 

McCoy remains one of the FBI's strongest suspects based on a near copycat hijacking McCoy pulled off over Utah five months after D.B. Cooper jumped out of the plane. 

Now, however, pilot and YouTuber Dan Gryder, who has been investigating the case for 20 years, said he has discovered bombshell evidence that has led to a breakthrough in the case. 

Two years ago, Gryder found what he believes is the uniquely modified parachute used in the D.B. Cooper heist belonging to McCoy that he found on the family's property in North Carolina. 

PART TWO HERE

[lalacrimafacile]

The Killing: un viaggio oscuro tra delitto e redenzione.

Introduzione alla serie

The Killing è una serie televisiva crime disponibile su Disney+, remake di un prodotto danese tratto dalle opere dello scrittore David Hewson. La serie statunitense è divisa in quattro stagioni. Le prime due narrano il caso dell’omicidio di una diciannovenne Rosie Larson. Mentre la terza e la quarta trattano altri due casi diversi. Le prime tre stagioni sono composte da 13 episodi mentre l’ultima da sole 6 puntate.

I protagonisti sono una coppia di detective della squadra omicidi: Sarah Linden e Stephen Holder. Insieme dovranno affrontare il crimine nella città di Seattle e affrontare i drammi delle loro vite.

La serie è stata accolta molto positivamente dal pubblico e dalla critica. Personalmente è stata una tra le serie televisive più interessanti e coinvolgenti che io abbia mai visto.

L’ambientazione e l’atmosfera noir di Seattle

I protagonisti sicuramente sono i detective e le famiglie delle vittime, specialmente nella prima e nella seconda stagione. Ma da padrona la fa Seattle. I suoi angoli nascosti, la pioggia costante che infradicia i vestiti di Holder e i capelli di Linden.

Il clima rafforza ancora di più l’atmosfera cupa e asfissiante della trama. Come se la pioggia simboleggiasse il mistero e gli ostacoli che circondano i due detective. Il peso dei vestiti grondanti di pioggia è lo stesso peso che grava su Sarah e su Stephen.

Il tutto è immerso in una fotografia quasi grigia e tonalità che ricordano la tradizione noir. L’inquietudine e la tensione che viene costruita una puntata dietro l’altra.

I personaggi principali e la loro evoluzione

Sarah Linden: il ritratto di una detective tormentata

Sarah Linden è impersonata da Mireille Enos. Il personaggio della detective è scritto meravigliosamente. La tenacia e il coraggio di Sarah vanno pari passo con la sua testardaggine e ostinatezza. Le sue difficoltà familiari e il suo passato travagliato hanno profondamente segnato il suo modo di essere. Quello che ha passato durante la sua infanzia ha segnato in modo radicale le sue relazioni. Tuttavia le sue capacità investigative e il rapporto che instaura con le vittime la rende una detective molto determinata.

Procedendo nelle stagioni le sue difficoltà con il figlio aumentano. Il suo lavoro la travolge e il legame che sente con le vittime diventa sempre più opprimente. Troverà nel suo nuovo collega un punto saldo e un amico su cui contare.

Stephen Holder: il partner con un passato oscuro

Linden nella prima puntata ha in programma di lasciare la centrale di Seattle, partire per la California con il suo fidanzato e suo figlio. Il suo sostituto, Stephen Holder, arriva alla omicidi dalla squadra narcotici e dovrebbe ricevere i casi della sua collega. Tuttavia, le cose non vanno così. Linden rimane a Seattle, troppo presa dal caso della giovane Rosie.

Anche se si capisce che Holder ha dei segreti sembra essere volenteroso di imparare e mettersi in gioco, anche se i suoi colleghi non lo lasciano esprimere il suo potenziale.

Nel corso delle puntate il rapporto tra i due detective si rafforza. Entrambi hanno dei fantasmi del loro passato che stanno provando ad affrontare. Holder è un ex drogato che cerca di rimanere sobrio e risanare il rapporto con la sua famiglia. Holder e Linden saranno l’uno la spalla dell’altro.

La chimica tra i due protagonisti e come influenza la narrazione di The Killing

Sicuramente uno dei punti di forza della serie è proprio il rapporto tra i due poliziotti. Le difficoltà che devono affrontare, l’intensità dei casi e la loro complessa vita privata li legano e li avvicinano sempre di più.

Da fan della serie ovviamente la loro relazione diventa uno dei traini della storia. L’affetto che si vede negli occhi di Holder quando guarda Linden e il modo in cui la fa ridere. Nel corso degli episodi, tuttavia, possiamo vedere Linden irrigidirsi sempre di più, faticare gradualmente a lasciarsi voler bene da Holder. Le difficoltà di lui si aggravano quando sente il loro rapporto vacillare. Insieme allo svolgimento delle indagini, l’evoluzione della loro relazione è uno dei focus più intriganti.

L’indagine al centro della narrazione

Ogni episodio introduce nuove scoperte, ma anche nuovi dubbi, alimentando un senso di incertezza che cresce progressivamente. La serie non è mai affrettata nel rivelare dettagli cruciali, anzi, gioca con la pazienza degli spettatori, mantenendo alta la tensione fino alla fine. Questo è uno degli elementi distintivi di The Killing: non ha paura di rallentare il ritmo per esplorare a fondo i personaggi e i loro segreti.

Fin dal primo episodio, ci troviamo immersi in un mondo cupo e malinconico, con la pioggia incessante che cade su Seattle come una metafora del dolore e del mistero che permea la storia. Questo clima si riflette non solo nell’atmosfera generale, ma anche nel ritmo stesso della serie, che rifiuta di svelare la verità in fretta. Al contrario, dilata il tempo, costruendo un senso di attesa prolungata che si traduce in un’esperienza di visione intensamente immersiva.

Ogni episodio introduce nuove scoperte, ma anche nuovi dubbi, alimentando un senso di incertezza che cresce progressivamente. La serie non è mai affrettata nel rivelare dettagli cruciali, anzi, gioca con la pazienza degli spettatori, mantenendo alta la tensione fino alla fine. Questo è uno degli elementi distintivi di The Killing: non ha paura di rallentare il ritmo per esplorare a fondo i personaggi e i loro segreti.

Il gioco del sospetto: chi è il colpevole?

Uno degli aspetti più avvincenti di The Killing è il modo in cui riesce a far sospettare di chiunque. Ogni personaggio, dal più marginale al più centrale, sembra avere qualcosa da nascondere. La protagonista, la detective Sarah Linden, interpretata in modo magistrale da Mireille Enos, è spinta a seguire una serie di false piste che portano lo spettatore a sospettare di diversi potenziali colpevoli. Ogni episodio offre nuovi indizi che, anziché avvicinare alla verità, complicano ulteriormente la trama.

Le dinamiche familiari, politiche e personali di ciascun individuo vengono lentamente rivelate, creando una rete intricata di relazioni e motivi che potrebbero portare chiunque a essere il responsabile dell’omicidio al centro della storia.

The Killing gioca con le aspettative del pubblico, mettendo in evidenza come nessuno sia completamente innocente. Questa costruzione del sospetto diventa quasi una danza: ogni volta che si è convinti di aver individuato il colpevole, la serie introduce un nuovo dettaglio che sconvolge tutto. È proprio questa continua oscillazione tra certezza e dubbio che mantiene alta la tensione emotiva.

Temi principali: colpa, redenzione e il lato oscuro della società

Uno degli aspetti più potenti di The Killing è la profondità con cui esplora la vulnerabilità dei suoi personaggi. Sarah Linden è una detective straordinariamente competente, ma anche una donna fragile, costantemente in bilico tra il suo dovere e i suoi demoni personali. La sua ossessione per il caso e la sua difficoltà a separare il lavoro dalla vita privata sono temi ricorrenti che rendono il suo personaggio incredibilmente umano.

Anche Stephen Holder, con il suo passato segnato dalla droga e dalla corruzione, è un personaggio profondamente sfaccettato. La sua lotta per mantenere la sua integrità e guadagnare la fiducia di Sarah è una delle dinamiche più interessanti della serie, che riflette la complessità delle relazioni umane in un contesto di estrema pressione.

La serie non si limita a rappresentare un'indagine poliziesca, ma esplora il lato oscuro della società: la disuguaglianza, la corruzione e il dolore della perdita. Ogni personaggio, anche quelli secondari, è tratteggiato con attenzione, e tutti hanno un ruolo nel complicare il puzzle che Linden e Holder cercano di risolvere.

Conclusioni: perché The Killing è un must-watch per gli amanti del crime

The Killing non è una serie per chi cerca una risoluzione rapida o facile. La sua struttura dilatata e la capacità di mantenere costante il sospetto su tutti i personaggi la rendono un’esperienza unica nel panorama delle serie crime. Con il suo ritmo lento ma intenso, riesce a coinvolgere lo spettatore non solo nella ricerca del colpevole, ma anche nelle vite complesse e vulnerabili di chi cerca giustizia.

Se sei un amante del crime, apprezzerai l’attenzione ai dettagli e la profondità emotiva che questa serie offre. È un viaggio oscuro e complesso, che richiede pazienza, ma che alla fine ripaga con una narrazione avvincente e personaggi indimenticabili.

Vuoi leggere altri contenuti su serie TV da vedere e amare? Guarda gli ultimi post e le EasyTears List.

La vostra Easy Tears.

[seattle-wa-first]

Yesler Towers in Seattle, WA

When it comes to 2-bedroom residences in Seattle, you should be mindful about Yesler Towers. Aside from its interesting features, there is the opportunity to live in a safe, accessible, and well-designed place. Moreover, their apartments in Seattle are buzz-worthy. Why is that so? First, it is positioned strategically along Interstate 5. Then, you are immediately greeted by the towers. In addition, you are led into a hub of activity, with its central location providing easy access to Seattle's cultural, educational and social offerings. Besides, being the first ever high-rise in the area, the tower's prominence is not just a view. It's a legacy. It’s amazing, right?

Seattle, WA

These days, talking about the educational background of Seattle, WA area is inspiring. For those who are planning to move there soon, you can also familiarize yourselves with the educational institutions in the city. Basically, Seattle Public Schools is the school district for the vast majority of the city. Moreover, that school district desegregated without a court order but continue to struggle to achieve racial balance in a somewhat ethnically divided city, the south part of town having more ethnic minorities than the north. Furthermore, Seattle is home to the University of Washington, as well as the institution's professional and continuing education unit, the University of Washington Educational Outreach.

Seattle Art Museum

Have you visited the Seattle Art Museum in the past? Well, many people visit the beautiful tourist spot. Besides, the said place that is commonly known as SAM is an art museum located in Seattle, Washington, United States. Apart from that, it operates three major facilities: its main museum in downtown Seattle; the Seattle Asian Art Museum or SAAM in Volunteer Park on Capitol Hill, and Olympic Sculpture Park on the central Seattle waterfront that opened in January 2007. In addition, parts of the museum's notable exhibitions are a 1954 exhibition of 25 European paintings and sculptures from the Samuel H. Kress Foundation.

Seattle police investigating deadly shooting early Sunday morning

Let’s talk about the shocking news reports in Seattle, WA area. One of the stories is about a shooting incident. Based on the news, Seattle police are investigating a deadly shooting in the city's Mount Baker neighborhood early Sunday morning. Based on the report by Seattle Police Department, officers responded to reports of a shooting in the 3600 block of 34th Avenue South just after 2:00 at dawn. Besides, arriving officers reportedly found a 22-year-old man with a gunshot wound in the stairwell of a building. Then, the victim was transported to the hospital where he died from his injuries. Lastly, Seattle police homicide detectives are investigating the shooting.

Link to Map Driving Direction

Seattle Art Museum 1300 1st Ave, Seattle, WA 98101, United States

Head southeast on 2nd Ave toward University St 0.5 mi

Turn left onto Yesler Wy 0.4 mi

Turn right onto S Washington St Destination will be on the right 112 ft

Yesler Towers 809 S Washington St, Seattle, WA 98104, United States

[anarchotahdigism]

Here in Seattle, only one city councilor voted to stop sending SPD to train with the IOF or having the IOF come here to train This after the council refused to defund SPD despite massive protests 2020-2021 during the BLM Uprising This was also after SPD officer Kevin Dave, rushing to an overdose scene in the hopes of arresting the victim to gain info on dealers (per SPD policy), struck and killed Jaahnavi Kalandula with his vehicle without stopping. It took 20 minutes for an ambulance to arrive by which time she'd died. SPD then lied and said that Dave had stopped to perform CPR on her. In truth, people nearby attempted to render aid. Then Detective Daniel Auderer, Vice President of the Seattle Police Officers Guild, was caught on camera laughing about the killing and saying that SPD should just officer $11,000 to her family since she was young and that that was what he estimated her life was worth. He was reassigned to desk duty and that was it. There's been very little support outside the Asian community for protests & riots because this city is fucking racist as hell. Seattle City Council promised to defund SPD, didn't, and their lies didn't harm their re-election efforts at all. This is the same police department that had at least six officers involved in the 1/06 Capitol insurrection coup attempt and has gone out of its way to protect those involved. This is the same PD that assaulted hundreds of thousands of BLM protesters for months, denied medical aid to the injured (likely resulting in multiple deaths), directly targeted press (including international press), repeatedly defied the federal oversight placed upon it for years of violence, wore Proud Boy colors during the protests, and has executed people all without consequence. All cops are bastards. All cops are white supremacists. All cops are violent protectors of capitalism. All cops are enemies of humanity.

I appreciate the sentiment with the "the cops are trained by the idf" people keep pointing out which don't get me wrong is pretty bad and you should point it out but also the cops in the US would still be bad even if they weren't trained by the idf like please don't forget that.

[pier-carlo-universe]

Verità Sgradite di Robert Dugoni: Un’indagine intensa tra corruzione e segreti per Tracy Crosswhite

Robert Dugoni esplora il lato oscuro della giustizia e della politica con un thriller avvincente

Robert Dugoni esplora il lato oscuro della giustizia e della politica con un thriller avvincente “Verità Sgradite”, pubblicato il 14 dicembre 2023, è l’ultimo capitolo delle avventure della detective Tracy Crosswhite, creata dall’autore di bestseller Robert Dugoni. In questo thriller pieno di tensione, Dugoni porta il lettore nelle profondità di un’indagine che svela corruzione, scandali e…

[cleoenfaserum]

THE HIDDEN CITY OF SEATLE, and the destruction of its NIRVANA

Washington State has always been a mystery to me. In my imagination, it was something so foreign as someone lost in the forest before freezing to death. It conjured up in my psychic absurdity. It was how I felt about the place in my teenage years in Canada. But Seattle was only a name in a State with lots of crazy gringos running around with no distinct character I could sum up, like a faceless person you only heard about.

814-1 https://youtu.be/OgeR2oqZGTs

Marcus Sakey somehow grounded out a spark. However, it was a TV detective series, THE KILLING, that gave me a sense of Seattle. It was an excellent series, sometimes a little bit dragged out, but good and tense which kept you wondering all the time with an unsuspecting denouement. You can see the series at: The Killing Season 1 Episode 1: Pilot Full HD online MyFlixer (myflixerz.to)

814-2 https://ok.ru/video/4400405744175

It is difficult to sumareis stories in such a way that you seem to get the whole picture in the briefest of time. Sakey does this second to none.

814-3 https://youtu.be/tAGnKpE4NCI

Kurt Donald Cobain (February 20, 1967 – c. April 5, 1994) was an American musician who was the co-founder, lead vocalist, guitarist and primary songwriter of the rock band Nirvana. Through his angst-fueled songwriting and anti-establishment persona, Cobain's compositions widened the thematic conventions of mainstream rock. He was heralded as a spokesman of Generation X and is highly recognized as one of the most influential alternative rock musicians.

814-4 https://youtu.be/PbgKEjNBHqM

Cobain formed Nirvana with Krist Novoselic and Aaron Burckhard in 1987 and established it as part of the Seattle music scene that later became known as grunge. After signing with DGC Records, Nirvana found commercial success with the single "Smells Like Teen Spirit" from their critically acclaimed second album Nevermind (1991). Although Cobain was hailed as the voice of his generation following Nirvana's sudden success, he resented this, believing his message and artistic vision had been misinterpreted by the public. In addition to "Smells Like Teen Spirit", Cobain wrote many other hit songs for Nirvana, including "Come as You Are", "Lithium", "In Bloom", "Something in the Way", "Heart-Shaped Box", "All Apologies", "About a Girl", "Aneurysm",[1] and "You Know You're Right".

814-5 https://youtu.be/hTWKbfoikeg

During the last years of his life, Cobain struggled with a heroin addiction and chronic health problems such as depression. He also struggled with the personal and professional pressures of fame, and he had a tumultuous relationship with his wife, fellow musician Courtney Love. In March 1994, Cobain overdosed on a combination of champagne and Rohypnol, and he subsequently entered an intervention and underwent a detox program. On April 8, 1994, Cobain was found dead in his Seattle home at the age of 27; police concluded he had died on April 5 from a self-inflicted shotgun wound to the head.

814-6 https://youtu.be/3_5mTTEF0qQ SOME BACKGROUND: https://youtu.be/zeH7gqoSUOQ

Cobain was posthumously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, alongside Nirvana bassist Krist Novoselic and drummer Dave Grohl, in their first year of eligibility in 2014. Rolling Stone included Cobain in its lists of the 100 Greatest Songwriters of All Time, 100 Greatest Guitarists, and 100 Greatest Singers of All Time. He was ranked 7th by MTV in the "22 Greatest Voices in Music". In 2006, he was placed 20th by Hit Parader on their list of the "100 Greatest Metal Singers of All Time".

814-7 https://youtu.be/pkcJEvMcnEg

REF: 814 NOTES

I don't usually include other themes with the central topic I deal with, though I have done on several occasions. The series "THE KILLING" is, as far as I am concerned, worth the mention. I have included the following review of the show and the link to the pilot episode of season 1 episode 1. I thought the acting was great.

814-8 https://youtu.be/e5Lz4_VB5Tw

The Killing Season 1 Episode 1: Pilot Full HD online MyFlixer (myflixerz.to)

[intriguingpeoplebyangelafloyd]

ANN RULE

ANN RULE

1931-2015

FRIENDS WITH TED BUNDY, WROTE THE BOOK ‘THE STRANGER BESIDE ME’

            Ann Rule was born in Lowell, Michigan, her family had careers in law enforcement, her grandfather and uncle were both sheriffs in Michigan and her cousin was a prosecutor. Rule spent her holidays with her grandparents doing volunteer work at their local jail. After school she went to University to study writing, criminology and psychology. She worked as a law enforcement officer for Seattle Police Department and began writing for True Detective magazine in 1969.

            Rule was working on a story about a mass murder when she realised that the killer she was writing about was actually her friend, Ted Bundy. She worked with him at a crisis hotline during the early 1970s in Seattle, Washington.

            Rule was doing volunteer work at a suicide crisis hotline in Seattle in 1971 when she met Ted Bundy who was a student studying psychology at the time. Rule never noticed anything disturbing about Bundy and described him as ‘kind, solicitous, and empathetic’.

            Bundy moved to Utah to attend law school, he was arrested in 1975 for kidnapping a young woman and Rule then learned that he was a serial killer who had killed a number of women. Rule remained in contact with Bundy after he was imprisoned and was criticised for sending him money whilst in prison. She stated that Bundy had later told her that the number of women he had murdered was more so than is known to authorities.

            She published the book, ‘The Stranger Beside Me’ (1980) which is about Bundy, her relationship with him and his crimes. The book became a bestseller and was later turned into a movie (2003); Rule was portrayed by Barbara Hershey.

            Rule continued to write true crime books which are mostly about crimes that have taken place in her city. Rule lived in Washington and had four children; she was married until she was divorced in 1972. In 2015, two of her sons were charged with theft after stealing from her, neither was jailed as charges were dropped, due to Rule’s death. Rule died aged 83 from congestive heart failure following a heart attack.  

#annrule #thestrangerbesideme #tedbundy

[cleoenfaserum]

Seattle Police Officer Investigated for Saying Graduate Student Killed Had ‘Limited Value’ Taken Off Patrol Duty

SOURCE: Seattle Police Officer Taken Off Patrol Duty After Insensitive Comments (people.com)

Detective Daniel Audrerer was caught on bodycam footage saying 23-year-old Jaahnavi Kandula had "limited value" after an officer struck and killed her

By Julia Moore Published on September 29, 2023

Eight months after Jaahnavi Kandula was hit and killed by a Seattle Police Department (SPD) patrol car, a different police officer has been taken off patrol duty.

Earlier this month, the Seattle Times reported that officer Kevin Dane was driving and responding to a report of an overdose when he hit Kandula, 23, who was crossing the street at a crosswalk. She later died at the hospital from her injuries.

The original SPD report did not identify the officer involved and only shared that they were en route to a “priority one call.”

Following Kandula’s death, another police officer, detective Daniel Auderer, was caught on body-camera footage released by the department joking about the incident. 

“She is dead,” Auderer said in the video, before laughing. He could also be heard referring to Kandula as just “a regular person” before saying, “Yeah, just write a check.”

He continued, “$11,000. She was 26 anyway. She had limited value,” he said in the released footage.

During a press conference on Wednesday, Seattle Police Department Chief Adrian Diaz revealed that Auderer has been “administratively assigned to a non operational position, so he’s not on the streets at this time.”

Auderer was identified as the vice president of the Seattle Police Officers Guild (SPOG), and the Community Police Commission (CPC), an oversight committee, said in a statement to the Seattle Times and KIRO-TV that Auderer’s comments were “heartbreaking and shockingly insensitive.”

They also noted that the incident “speaks to the concerns that the [CPC] has repeatedly raised about elements of Seattle Police Department culture and SPOG resistance to officer accountability measures.”

“The people of Seattle deserve better from a police department that is charged with fostering trust with the community and ensuring public safety,” the CPC added.

In a statement obtained by NBC News, Kandula’s family said of the footage, “It is truly disturbing and saddening to hear insensible comments on the bodycam video from an SPD officer regarding Jaahnavi’s death.”

Per the SPD, the bodycam video was discovered by a department employee during a routine course of business and flagged to the Chief’s office before being referred to the Office of Police Accountability for investigation.

“Recognizing the public concern around this video, SPD is putting out this video in the interest of transparency, but consistent with City law, SPD reserves any comment on the substance pending the completion of OPA’s investigation,” the department said in its statement alongside the video.

Their statement went on to say that the SPD “has been in touch with the family of the victim” and that they “extend our deepest sympathy for this tragic collision.”

They added, “Jaahnavi is a beloved daughter and beyond any dollar value for her mother and family. We firmly believe that every human life is invaluable and not be belittled, especially during a tragic loss.”

JAMES ANDERSON/ALAMY

During the press conference, Diaz said that there’s an “ongoing conversation” between his department and the community in response to the incident.

“It’s important that we have those dialogues,” he said of the conversations.

Following her death, the Northeastern University graduate’s family described her as “brilliant student with a bright future,” per NBC affiliate KING-TV.

The daughter of a single mother, Kandula was obtaining a degree to help improve her family's life back in India, where her mother works as an elementary school teacher and earns less than $200 a month.

"We are truly heartbroken,” the family said.

SEATTLE POLICE DEPARTMENT/YOUTUBE

As for the actual collision, Diaz said during the press conference, “Even from the very beginning of the officer-involved collision, I actually had conversations with the family, the uncles, the brothers, the mother,” referring to Kandula’s relatives. 

He said the department has “continued to keep them informed and keep them engaged in the process” as they investigate the incident. 

Want to keep up with the latest crime coverage? Sign up for PEOPLE's free True Crime newsletter for breaking crime news, ongoing trial coverage and details of intriguing unsolved cases. 

Auderer was the drug-recognition officer assigned to determine whether Dave had been under the influence when he hit Kandula, a graduate of Northeastern University. Auderer determined that Dave was “going 50 [miles an hour],” which was “not out of control” for a driver, which he said on the call to POG President Mike Solan that was caught on bodycam footage.

However, a report released several months later revealed that Dave had actually been driving 74 mph in a 25 mph zone when he hit Kandula while heading to the emergency call, per KIRO-TV.

The report said Dave’s speed “did not allow him sufficient time to detect, address and avoid a hazard that presented itself.”

REF: 766

[toyourheartyoureyesarecallingme]

Christopher George Latore Wallace

Born on May 21st, 1972

Died on March 9th, 1997

Rooted in East Coast hip hop. Let's not forget the war between East Coast and West Coast.

West Coast king long live legend Tupac Amaru Shakur.

Born on June 16th, 1971

Died on September 13th, 1996. Less a year ago before Biggie's death.

Tupac's muder case ain't solved after 30 years which mean I'll have to do it after solving Biggie's. Good news Tupac's murder case has been opened just a few days ago. (I swear I didin't knew before "opening" Biggie's by myself yesterday)

Biggie was born in Brooklyn, grew up in Brooklyn streets (Saint James Place and Fulton Stree-Christopher Wallace Way), was killed in West Coast. His parents was from Jamaica. So I would put in the first place a killer to be from West Coast.

Los Angeles West Coast:

Los Angeles

San Diego

San Jose

San Francisco

Sacramento

Portland

Seattle

Anchorage

Honolulu

Biggie was shot drive-by at the intersection of Fairfax Ave and Wilshire Blvd, after leaving a Vibe Magazine party in Los Angeles with his entourage.

FIRST THOUGHTS: Thug Nigga/Coast 2 Coast by TUPAC:

Okay let's go back. They were able to drive to nearby Cedars-Sinai Medical Center where he was pronounced dead.

Personally at first I thought u know it has to be Puffy that dude, but now as listening music I think we all know it has to be some Tupac fan, related to Tupac, w West Coast.

Crime scene investigation:

The Peterson Automotive Museum as it appeared in 1997.

The vehicle Christopher Wallace was in when he was shot 4 times by an unidentified suspect.

Detectives worked on the car but were never able to arrest a suspect in the case.

[manvindrachaudhary-blog]

A Florida Man Died Of Brain-Eating Amoeba And Residents Are Being Warned To Use Caution With Tap Water

Florida health officials are warning residents of Charlotte County to use caution when swimming and washing their faces and to avoid using unsterilized tap water for nasal irrigation after a local man died of a brain-eating amoeba infection.They asked residents to avoid getting water in their noses when showering or swimming and to not allow children to play unsupervised with hoses, sprinklers,  or during any other activity that would allow water to squirt up their noses.The Florida Department of Health stressed that you cannot be infected with the organism, called Naegleria fowleri, by drinking tap water. The amoeba causes an infection called primary amebic meningoencephalitis (PAM), which is almost always fatal.The health officials issued the warning on Feb. 23 and haven’t released more details about the patient who died. News outlets have reported that the patient was a man who rinsed his sinuses daily with unboiled tap water.While infections and deaths are dramatic, fortunately they are rare. “Anybody can get it in the right setting but the risk is low,” Dr. Adarsh Bhimraj, an infectious diseases physician at Houston Methodist, said.The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have recorded 154 cases of PAM from Naegleria fowleri in the US between 1962 and 2021. All but four were fatal.

Not the first time

This isn’t the first time that someone has been infected with the amoeba from rinsing their nasal passages with unsterilized tap water. The Louisiana Department of Health recorded two deaths in 2011, both blamed on tap water delivered through a Neti pot, a type of sinus irrigation system that uses salt and water. Naegleria fowleri can also enter your nose when swimming or diving. In 2021, a 10-year-old girl in Texas became infected and died, likely after swimming at a splash pad near Dallas where the organism was detected.Naegleria fowleri isn’t the only amoeba that can cause illness or even death. A 69-year-old woman in Seattle died after apparently coming into contact with the amoeba Balamuthia mandrillaris, again via tap water in a Neti pot, although the water had been run through a Brita purifier. Balamuthia mandrillaris causes a much slower infection than Naegleria fowleri.A third type of amoeba, Acanthamoeba, can also infect humans, according to a study in ID Cases. All are free living, which means they don’t need a host to survive, Bhimraj explained. “It’s not uncommon to find them in the environment.” 

A perfect storm

The reason brain-eating infections are fairly uncommon is because “everything has to line up perfectly,” said Juan Dumois, a pediatric infectious disease physician at Johns Hopkins All Children’s Hospital in St. Petersburg, who has seen one case in his career.You have to first start with a water source that contains amoeba. Even then, not everyone exposed to the same infected water will get sick. The water has to enter your nose and stick. “If you just wash it out or it goes down the esophagus, it won’t cause any problem,” Dumois explained.Even then, the infectious organisms still have a long way to go, a path that involves finding their way to one of the olfactory nerves. These nerves give you the ability to detect scents and are the same ones that are damaged in some people with COVID. The germs can crawl up the nerve into the brain and cause an infection. “If the amoeba never finds that nerve, that’s it,” Dumois said. “Otherwise, it’s bad luck from a specific series of events.”Once lodged in your brain, Naegleria fowleri will burrow into brain tissue and consume brain cells. This then triggers the immune system to try to fight it off. “A lot of white blood cells go in there and try to destroy the amoeba and, in the process, the white blood cells cause damage as well,” Dumois said. “You actually have areas in the brain that start to be destroyed and liquefied by the inflammatory reaction of fighting off the amoeba.”

The right environment

Typically, Naegleria fowleri occur in warmer climates, which is where the organisms thrive. Most of the recorded infections occurred in 15 southern states, with Texas and Florida counting for almost half. Infections that occur further north, like in Michigan or Minnesota, tend to happen in the summer. The amoeba live only in freshwater like lakes and rivers and sometimes brackish water, but not saltwater.In general, infections peak in July and August. But experts do predict that the infections will become more common in northern areas as a result of climate change. “With climate change, the temperatures even in Wisconsin and Minnesota have been warm enough,” said Bhimraj said.It can also be found in swimming pools that aren’t adequately chlorinated and in municipal water supplies under certain conditions. With tap water, “the problem occurs in how the water is disseminated,” Dumois explained. “The water is treated in the water plant then pumped into pipes. Then it has to go to different distances before it gets to the faucet. The longer it has to go and the longer the water sits in the pipes, the lower the chlorine level drops.” If the pipes aren’t used for a while, chlorine levels go down.

Symptoms and treatment of brain infection

Patients with PAM, the brain infection caused by Naegleria fowleri, typically start with symptoms of meningitis, which is to say fever, a stiff neck, and “the worst headache you’ve ever had,” Dumois said. Later on, they may develop seizures, hallucinate, and even fall into a coma.According to Dumois, survival depends largely on whether the infection is correctly diagnosed and treated early on. Doctors may take a spinal tap and test for different bacteria that cause meningitis but not amoeba. “You’re only going to suspect Naegleria fowleri if they were told or asked if the patient has been in a situation where freshwater has gone up their nose,” Dumois said.Physicians usually treat PAM with a combination of drugs including some antibiotics.

Avoiding infection

First and foremost, never use water straight from the tap to irrigate your sinuses. Water that’s been boiled for one to five minutes then cooled should be safe, as is store-bought distilled water. “That’s the kind of water you want to use,” Bhimraj said. “Why take the risk?”Washing your face can be a risk as well. “If you can wash your face without getting water up your nose, it should be fine to wash your face with regular tap water,” Dumois said. “If you have a tendency to get water up your nose when you wash your face, you are probably doing it too vigorously anyway.”There’s no danger if you go swimming in saltwater.  You’re also safe if you swim in freshwater but don’t put your head under the surface, Dumois said. Swimming underwater, diving, splashing, water skiing, or using a water slide could lead to an unfortunate chance encounter with Naegleria fowleri. Holding your nose will help, as will wearing a well-fitting dive mask that covers your eyes and nose. “That will keep most of the water out of your nose as long as it has a good fit,” Dumois said. Source link Read the full article