#detective l walter

[harrison-abbott]

NOCTURNAL WOODS (1992)

When I was a boy I was never able to sleep well. I hated school and when I usually slept for a couple of hours when I got in, meaning I’d be up in the evening doing what I liked to do, which was read and watch films etc. This meant that I wasn’t tired in the late evening like neurotypical people, and I’d stay up into the a.m. hours.  

My mother disliked this and I went into this routine naively, because I still needed to go to the toilet and move around the house. And when I woke her up with bangs I’d get a beating. She was quite the monster when deducted sleep. So I learned how to sneak quietly. I learned how to place my feet on the right floorboards, avoiding the others which would wince. It was intense and like a game and I enjoyed it.

I loved the dark and its sense of creation. Daylight made a new world and in the dark there were other possibilities. People are not designed to function in the night and that’s what I liked about it.  

To this day I’m usually up at night. I’m not as quick with reading as a man but I still have insomnia or am only to rest in four-hour bouts. It doesn’t bother me much.  

But, anyway, Davies gave me a new case. Two people had been murdered in a park in a south side suburb of the city. Shot. I looked over the files and information. They were shot in the early morning; one was a middle-aged man walking his dog, the other an elderly woman taking a stroll … Their bodies were found cold around nine or ten a.m. by other dogwalkers, who called the police.  

Thus the victims must have been shot when it was still dark. Or during very low light. And thus I knew that the killer must the same admiration for the night as I did. I told Davies that I’d get right on it. I was intrigued.

I drove down to this suburban area. I met up with the teams who had sealed off the most recent murder scene with the old lady. There was no possibility of her being killed for a reason. It was obvious we were dealing with somebody of a serial psychopathic nature who would be looking to attack again soon. The spot where she was shot was wide open and near a handsome little bridge above the river.

“Morning, sir,” I shook hands with the cop who was in charge.

“Morning, Walter.”

“So have your team searched around the area yet?”

“We cut the woods off to the public yesterday. We did a routine scout around the area yesterday afternoon. It was raining like crazy and we didn’t find anything.”

I looked around. The valley rose up in a steep ascent where the trees were muffled by dense ivy.  

“Did you check up the valley, sir?” I asked.

“We went over the woods in a general way, so yes, but we were waiting for today to do a proper search.”

I took this as a no.

“Okay,” I said, “I’m going to head up the valley now and have a mosey.”

The men stayed behind and I teetered up the hill alone. Indeed the strands were slippery with the recent rainfall; my breath puffed out in clumsy clouds. I got maybe fifty metres up and looked down at the bridge with the policemen by it. What I was looking for was some kind of vantage point where I expected the killer to have shot from.

I scanned the ground and went through the branches of the trees. There were many places where he could get an easy shot from this range. But I simply didn’t find any evidence of him being there. So I went back down the valley.

“Find anything, detective?” the cop said to me.

“I didn’t, no. But could you take me to the spot where the other person was shot? The man?”

As we went along the trail I scanned the landscape. These were fairly heavy woods and any whiff of urbanity was a half-mile off. We ducked away from the river where the path led down under another hillside. Rocky and craggy with birches clung to its canvass. The policeman showed me where the man had been shot.

“What happened to his dog?” I said. “The dead man’s dog.”

“His dog? Oh, I actually didn’t think about that. I think somebody found it.”

The rockface arose wildly above me. I noticed it came to an abrupt end at the top – a distance high enough to kill you if you jumped from there. I told the policeman I was going to go searching again and he could come if he wanted but he refrained and said he would stay behind.  

I obviously couldn’t climb the rock bit directly so I went into the woods the far side of it and picked my way through the ferns and thickets, using the tree roots to lever myself up. Was quite fun. I reached the top and came up to the area at the top of the cliff.  

There were footprints in the mud. Boots, a man’s size, a big man. I avoided them and edged my way towards the clifftop. I could see the policeman at the bottom. Another perfect shooting position. Then I saw something in the grass, and I went closer. It was a flask. As in, a coffee flask, lying there. He’d left it behind. By it the grass was leaden down as if somebody had been sitting there reading.

Good stuff. I knew I would have to wait for this man. He would be returning here again to kill or perhaps he was still here already, spying on me. Maybe I could lure him out and tempt him into a duel. Either way it would have to be done at night. The quickest way to catch him would be through some form of espionage. He would not strike in the day. Only in the nocturnal escapism of the woods.

I told my plan to Davies on the phone. He was uneasy about it. I told him I wanted to do it alone.  

“So you reckon there’s a good chance he’s still in the woods?” Davies said.

“I just have a hunch, boss.”

“As in, he’s camping out there? How big is the forest anyway?”

“He very well might be and it’s large enough to hide in.”

“You sure you don’t want to have a team with you?”

“It would work better with one man.”

“Well, if that’s how you want to proceed then so be it.”

I ordered the policemen in the woods to keep the area off-limits to the public. Then they could leave. I drove to the nearest supermarket and got some whisky in. I sat in my car near the woodland and read the newspaper, waiting for it to get dark. There was a pretty sunset and then the night cloaked the area and all fell silent, and I set out into the woods.  

The only tactic was to explore; I didn’t quite have a plan save to find further clues he might have left. So I took off the public trail and went into the rough parts. The ivy covered everything like an evergreen plague. And a thick frost multiplied on the leaves in a magical haze. The whiteness of the frost gave off small light which helped me in an arena which was otherwise pitch black.  

I saw something ahead of me in the gloom. It slid across the frosty ivy every so faintly. Then there was a rustle in the trees ahead of it. I followed and came to said trees and looked down the other side, onto a hillside where this shape was angling down it. He moved fast and skilful down the slope. That was him, that was the killer. I didn’t expect to find him so fast.

A tingle came over my body. I brought my bottle out and drank as his body reached the bottom of the hill. It was like being in a film, or watching something cryptic in a play. When he vanished into a new group of trees I pursued.

I was bemused at how easy he descended the slope because it was gnarly and lubricious. I fumbled down it slow and awkward, all the whiles losing time on the man below me. And I reached the bottom and looked into an abyss of trees and couldn’t see him. I’d also lost the point where I’d seen him last – was confused. I chose a location and ventured. Then I caught a smell of something.

Woodsmoke.

That pearly homely smell. It came from behind me, which proved I’d gone the wrong way. So I followed the woodsmoke instead and came to a cluster of holly bushes. Through the leaves I saw the miraculous glow of firelight. I peeled closer and peered through the branches.  

I saw him perched by a bonfire. He was working at something in front of him: I was too far away to see what it was but it looked like he was knitting. As I watched I drank, feeling smug that he didn’t know I was there. Then he stopped whatever he was doing and he put something into a bag. Then he left the bag there and moved off into the woods again and vanished from view. I came out of the hollies and went up to the bonfire.

The rucksack was small and I looked inside it. There was a bottle of water, some apples, a pencil and a notebook. I looked inside it and there were all kinds of slinky handwriting inside it. The letters were so small I couldn’t read it.  

Suddenly I heard a noise ahead of me in the trees and I flinched and tucked the book back in the bag and then ran off. I dove into the bushes as the killer came back to his fire. He came up to the flames and I saw his frame for the first proper time. He was huge. And he’d stopped and was looking at his bag. Because it had changed position. I’d moved it.  

Then he brought his rife out and started looking around the trees. I swallowed and then crouched up. The killer took a torch out and clicked it on and the battery beam of it was wondrous in the night. He held the rifle in one hand and torch in another and came towards where I was hiding. Closer and closer and suddenly the dark was undone. The torch overpowered the weeds and bushes.  

I stood up and ran and simultaneously the light hit me. He swore. Then he took aim and fired. And a gush of timber spat out of the tree trunk in front of me and I ran on. I dove through more tree trunks. He shot a second time and the bullet whistled into time but didn’t hit me. I pulled my own gun out and ran. There was no way of telling where he was and the other immediate danger was running into one of these trees.

Something snagged my foot and I fell over, cartoonish, landing on my face. Then I saw him lurking between the trees. Hunting. Thirty yards from me and then twenty and I was on the floor watching him. His torch whipped about and then it found me.

His face disappeared behind the torchlight. He brought his rifle up and shot. My body jarred and jolted aside. I felt a tremendous weakness. The torchlight beamed closer and closer. I brought my pistol out and shot at it. I shot at the torch, not the human, and that made it easier. And the torch twirled away.  

I heard the man gasp and grunt. The torch was lying in the weeds and I could dimly see the killer squirming on the floor. I’d shot him somewhere in the torso.  

My left knee was shot. First time I’d ever been whacked by a bullet. I had a clear aim at him again and it would’ve been easy to shoot a second time. I hesitated.

He grumbled up and got a stance and lumbered away from me. I could have capped him then but I didn’t, I didn’t want to.

The reverb of the gun battle still hung in the woods in failed echoes.  

I turned my lighter on and looked at my gunshot wound. It had blown away a chunk of the lower calf. Not good but not lethal if I could get to a hospital in time. Okay, so I needed to get out of the woods. First thing I needed to do was stand up. I scrawled over to a tree trunk and lifted myself up using my right leg for support. And the blood flumed down my left knee in hot currents.

There was a branch above me which might serve as a crutch for the time being. I broke it off. It was tall and sturdy enough and a lucky find. Then I drank. I downed as much as I could for the next journey.

And as I went I got thinking about my mother in the old house again, when I used to sneak around to try and play with her. My mother always seemed old and irritable. She never spoke much and never particularly liked me … Did I sneak around the house because I wanted to prove one of her tantrums? Maybe I enjoyed those explosive bells when I woke her up by mistake … And maybe I got so good at evasion that I had no relationship with her at all.

And now I was here in the woods with a firm possibility of bleeding to death. I wasn’t going to go out without being drunk. Fuck that. So I drank as much as I could and then I came to the river.  

I didn’t even know I was that close to the river but suddenly there I was and there was no other option save to jump it. So I jumped. And I landed about a yard off the bank the other side. And I tried to jump with my walking stick but it fell away and the current took it downstream. I came out of the water laughing, and headed out of the dead shrubbery. And I came upon the main trail.

The public trail – I was here! I recognised where I was suddenly, a little bit. If I followed it west I should come upon the scene where the woman was murdered. And I walked along it, an idiot, a failed detective, a failed spy. I reached the taped-off scene of the woman.  

I wondered why a good woman like that deserved to die compared to a vagabond like me. Maybe she wasn’t a good woman; maybe she had an insidious past filled with selfish vengeance and greed and was like that until she was shot in the head by some random lunatic in the forest. Who knows. That’s what crime is there for.

The trail continued and I came upon the streetlamps beyond the trees in the far distance and knew I was going to survive. There was further tape on the main entrance to the park and I ducked under it and went along the road and found my car and I got inside and tried not to think about my leg.  

I didn’t really feel much in the way of panic. Perhaps I’d been trying to kill myself for such a long time there wasn’t much difference in the current situation …  

The bottle was nearly dry. I knew that there was a big hospital on the south side of the city. It was only a ten minute drive away in fact. Handy.

It felt good to be back in urbanity. And the car warmed me up. I stuck the radio on and a national audio brought me back to society – a place where I never belonged. And I finished my bottle on the way to the hospital and met not a single other car in the indigo icy morning.

THE END

[contaminatedvessel]

Just started rewatching Death Note, and I genuinely believe that L would've caught Walter White really fucking quickly

[holylulusworld]

Big grumpy bear (2)

Summary: He’s grumpy. You are sweet. A match made in heaven.

Pairing: Alpha!Walter Marshall x OmegaReader

Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, grumpy alpha, scenting, fluff, jealous alpha, possessive (a hint) alpha

Catch up here: Big grumpy bear

Big grumpy bear masterlist

“Good morning,” you chirp as you walk toward your office. You’re in a good mood because it will be a wonderful day. You’re sure about it.

You are wearing a brand-new square-neck floral dress with short sleeves. The bohemian dress has a high waist and elegant ruffle hems. It’s cute and you feel pretty. Most importantly, you are ready to impress your chosen alpha.

While you fall into your daily morning routine and greet all of your colleagues you feel Walter’s eyes on you. 

His features darken as one of your male colleagues dares to put his hand on your arm to stop you. 

The man only tries to talk to you about the footage you checked for his case, but Walter won’t have it.

Walter gets up from his swivel chair, almost knocking the chair over as he rises to his full height. He strides toward you and the man, eyes hard and jaw set. 

You feel him behind you, his gaze on the man, but his hand on your shoulder. “Excuse us. Miss Y/L/N has an appointment with me. We need to discuss the footage of my latest case.”

“Well, buddy,” the man tries to swipe Walter’s hand off your shoulder. He doesn’t know that you and the alpha are kinda of dating. Or you are not. You’re not sure about it. At least Walter allowed you to take care of him a little bit over the last three weeks. “I talked to her first. Your case must wait.”

Uh-oh. The guy is in trouble. Walter cracks his neck. He huffs and squeezes your shoulder.

“I need to help Detective Marshall now. I gave you my report yesterday. Your partner said the case is closed. If you need to discuss the details with me again, we need to do it later,” you try to calm Walter, but the other detective seems to be the kind of alpha wanting to mark another alpha’s territory.

Or he’s just dull…

“As I said, I talked to you first. You must focus on my case,” the detective makes you sigh. In his line of work, he should be able to control his anger and nature better.

You know men like him. They all believe omegas and betas must follow their orders like obedient puppies. The twenty-first century is forgotten the moment they want you to do something for them.

“Your partner said the case is closed,” Walter snarls at the detective. “I know him. If he closes a case, it is closed. So, what is this about? Huh? Do you want to make another woman unhappy? This worked out well for that lab tech you dated last year.”

“Careful, Marshall,” the man bites back. “Don’t get in between me and that omega.”

You sigh again. This could’ve been such a lovely day. “That is enough,” you snap your fingers in front of the detective’s face. “If the case is closed, there is no need to waste my time. Let me tell you this right away. I wouldn’t poke you with a stick. And I already set my eyes on an alpha.”

Walter proudly puffs his chest. “You heard her. Get out of her sight!” He gruffly says. “Miss Y/L/N, can we talk about the footage now?”

Exhaling sharply, you turn around. You need a moment to calm down and find your inner peace. “Let’s go, detective.”

“You need to eat this and have more water.” The moment you had Walter at your office you switched to caring omega modus again. 

He grumbles as you place a homemade sandwich and a cupcake in front of him. “I told you not to feed me,” Walter says but grabs the sandwich, nonetheless. He digs in, humming as he munches the food you made for him. “I can take care of myself.”

“I can defend myself too,” you pat his cheek, making him furrow his brows. “But it was nice of you to stand up for me. Just like an alpha should.”

“You…” he looks you up and down. His features are unmoving, but his eyes roam your body. Walter tilts his head, hums, and licks his lips clean, tasting your sandwich again. “You look pretty in that dress.”

Your heart flutters. It’s the first time Walter complimented you. “My, thank you. That’s very nice of you to say.”

Walter watches you chew on your index finger. You’re unsure if he’s ready for the next step, but sometimes you must take what you want.

It’s now or never.

You hop onto his thigh and wrap your arms around his neck to peck his cheek. ”You’re a very protective alpha. I like it.”

Walter’s features soften for a split-second. He gives you half a smile and allows you to bury your face in his neck to scent him.

His heart beats a little faster than usual. He’s not sure yet, but he fears you wormed your way into his heart.

He’s just not sure anymore if that’s a bad thing …

Part 3

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Assuming he was interested and took the case, do you think L could catch Heisenberg? Would it be difficult for him to do so?

Easily.

Jimmy does this pathetically easily in canon. He's able to very quickly track down Mr. Walter White as being Heisenberg, walks into the school where he works, and immediately knows it's him.

What made it so hard to catch Walter is that he was not at all what people were picturing and he was too close to Hank who never thought it'd be someone he has such a personal connection with.

Walter had motive if you were willing to acknowledge it (the need to make money fast, a death sentence which loosens restrictions he'd otherwise impose on himself), he goes through weird personal crises including losing his memories, presumably having an affair given Skylar's reactions, supposedly experimenting with drugs, then suddenly winning a ton of money at "gambling" through a super secret card counting trick that the casino's haven't caught onto, and oh yes buying a car wash out of nowhere. Buying the two race cars out of nowhere as well and then setting one on fire.

And of course, the ongoing mystery of the RV, the connection to Jesse Pinkman which keeps coming up but makes no sense to outsiders, the gas masks from the school that were stolen and they just assumed the janitor was involved given prior history.

Walt screamed dirty to anyone who looked directly at him. He was really bad at hiding it if you thought to suspect him. He got away with it because no one ever did because he looks like this mild-mannered middle-aged man dying of cancer and because it was Hank's case and Hank's his brother-in-law.

As it is, I'm not sure L would be interested in gang/drug type activities, as it's not really the international super detective scene, you know? I imagine he'd find the case quite dull.

[holmesillustrations]

Left: “"Cut out the poetry, Watson," said Holmes severely.” Retired Colourman, Frank Wiles, The Strand Jan 1927 Characters: Watson, Holmes

Right: “"You'll only get yourself hurt," said the inspector. "Stand still, will you?"” Dying Detective, Walter Paget, The Strand Dec 1913 Characters: Holmes,Watson, Culverton Smith, Lestrade

[juggernauteditz]

THE SMART CHARACTER GAUNTLET

You got a character you think is smart as shit? WELL SEND AN ASK AND PUT 'EM AGAINST THE GANG!

Characters:

Makima (Chainsaw Man)

Minoru Tanaka (Death Note)

Yumeko Jabami (Kakegurui)

Yuuichi Katagiri (Tomodachi Game)

Takuya Yagami (Classroom of the Elite)

Saul Goodman (Breaking Bad)

Walter White (Breaking Bad)

Near (Death Note)

MINI BOSS Kiyotaka Ayanokoji (Classroom of the Elite)

Beyond Birthday (Death Note)

Gus Fring (Breaking Bad)

Light Yagami (Death Note)

Senku Ishigami (Doctor Stone)

Aizen (Bleach)

Victor Frankenstein (Frankenstein)

Nao Kanzaki (Liar Game)

Will Graham (NBC)

MINI BOSS Kaji Takaomi (Usogui)

Edogawa Ranpo (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Yokoya Norihiko (Liar Game)

William Afton (FNAF)

Suteguma Satoru (Usogui)

Conan Edogawa (Detective Conan)

Shogo Makishima (Psycho-Pass)

L Lawlet (Death Note)

Lelouch vi Britannia (Code Geass)

MINI BOSS Hervis Daubeny (For Honor)

Johan Liebert (Monster)

Junko Enoshima (Danganronpa)

Red John (The Mentalist)

James Moriarty (Moriarty the Patriot)

Friend (20th Century Boys)

Osamu Dazai (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Vincent Lalo (Usogui)

Akiyama Shinichi (Liar Game)

MINI BOSS Shigeru Akagi (Ten)

Hannibal Lecter (Novels)

Baku Madarame (Usogui)

Patrick Jane (The Mentalist)

Kiruma Souichi (Usogui)

The Riddler (DC Comics)

Batman (DC Comics)

The Joker (DC Comics)

C-137 Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty)

FINAL BOSS Ozymandias (Watchmen)

SECRET BOSS Sherlock Holmes (Novels)

[isfjmel-phleg]

February 2023 Books

Death by Disguise by E. L. Bates

It was a pleasure to spend time with Maia and Len again! I enjoyed the Cambridge setting. The magical elements of the mystery were intriguing. And I'm curious to see where the new developments of the ending lead the characters, who are about to experience significant changes.

Freddy Goes to Florida, Freddy Goes to the North Pole, and Freddy the Detective by Walter R. Brooks

Frequently humorous, but I don't think I would read this series three at a time again (which is not the books' fault).

A Box of Bones, The Inn Between, and The Doll's Eye by Marina Cohen

A Box of Bones was my favorite of these (dare I say I liked it a little better than the also very good Small Spaces?)--readable blend of characterization and atmospheric creepiness. Also major points for the Lake Champlain setting and the mentions of the small town where I was born! It plays a small but significant role in the story.

The Inn Between was effectively creepy. I'm not sure how I feel about the ending, which leaves the protagonist in a place where ideally she shouldn't be, but yet the wording subtly implies this could change?

The Doll's Eye had an absolutely horrifying ending. Yikes. It was well-written but yikes.

She, the Adventuress by Dorothy Crayder (reread)

I acquired a copy of this one a while back and wanted to revisit it.

The Princess Aline by Richard Harding Davis

This one has an interesting history. The fictional Princess Aline was inspired by Princess Alix of Hesse-Darmstadt (the future Tsarina Alexandra of Russia), whom Davis was apparently infatuated with after having seen her once from a distance. Reportedly Alix's grandmother Queen Victoria and her daughters read and enjoyed Davis's book. Charles Dana Gibson's illustrations of Aline bear a resemblance to Alix too.

I liked the concept of this one better than the execution. An artist with rather shallow views on women becomes infatuated with a princess and follows her across Europe, only to gradually come to terms with the fact that she is unattainable and that he has actually fallen in love with a young woman he has been traveling with. I didn't care much for the protagonist, so it was difficult for me to get invested in anything he was doing, and the clarity at the end came maybe a bit too late to convince me.

The Tiger Rising by Kate DiCamillo (reread)

Goodreads tells me I read this in 2011. I have no memory of it from then but liked it this time.

The Finches' Fabulous Furnace by Roger Wolcott Drury

A family moves into a house with a very small but potentially dangerous volcano in the basement. I was initially frustrated with Mr. Finch's approach to the situation; at first only he, his son, and the man who sold them the house know about the volcano, and Mr. Finch chooses to conceal this information from his wife and daughter on the grounds that it might worry them. The volcano affects significant things like the temperature of the house, and Mrs. Finch is naturally concerned, but her husband makes no effort to set straight her assumption that they have an unusual furnace. He and his son tie themselves in knots trying to conceal the problem rather than putting the problem out in the open and dealing with it. When Mrs. Finch and her daughter do find out, they have very realistic concerns, which the guys dismiss, and the daughter in particular wants to let the entire town know what potential danger they're in. By then, some important (male) figures in the town know too, and they also insist that the volcano be kept secret for the sake of appearances (heaven forbid a major town festival be compromised!). And it goes about as well as you would expect.

It seems to be a commentary on the importance of openly addressing problems with the people they concern rather than leaving people deceived/in the dark "for their own good." And that's a truth worth expressing.

Meet the Austins, The Moon by Night, and A Ring of Endless Light by Madeleine L'Engle (reread)

I didn't love A Ring of Endless Light as much this time as I did when I originally read (at what was just the right time--dealing with death was not so close to me this time around), but I do still like them, mostly for Vicky, who is very real and relatable in her struggles to figure out life. But I am begging this girl to, if she absolutely must date, date a boy who is a) her age and not a legal adult and b) not a condescending jerk. She repeatedly ends up with guys who are varying degrees of this.

If L'Engle absolutely had to keep bringing Zachary Gray back, I wish she would have just given him an effective, lasting redemption arc instead of handing character growth to him over and over on a silver platter and letting him reject it every. single. time. and keep on being The Worst.

The Boy in the Box by Cary Fagan

This was my Blind Date with a Book selection! I actually enjoyed it. The characters were engaging, and the world had that middle-grade-characteristic tone of being in reality (probably not magical) but just a little to the left in terms of bizarreness.

The Story That Cannot Be Told by J. Kasper Kramer

Middle-grade historical fiction set in Romania in 1989. I learned a lot about this aspect of history and enjoyed the narrative and its fascinating themes of the roles that stories take in a world full of surveillance and suppression and betrayals. Kramer weaves the young protagonist's retelling of a Romanian fairy tale in with the larger story to good effect.

And it had a happy ending! Stories in that sort of setting so frequently don't.

The Light Princess by George MacDonald

Enjoyable, in a Victorian fairy tale way.

The Faerie Door by B. E. Maxwell

Beautiful cover, and there was potential in the concept of a Victorian girl and a 1960s American boy having fantastical adventures together. Operative word being together, though. They got arbitrarily split up and the chapters alternated between each's seemingly unrelated adventure. Any chance for them to genuinely bond and affect each other's character development was gone, and the result seemed excessively long, derivative, and rather a slog to read, unfortunately.

The Little Princess of Tower Hill by L. T. Meade

What a difference over a century can make in how a story appears. I liked the protagonist, who wasn't really such a bad girl as the narrative seemed to think, and her male cousin, who is presented as a role model for her, comes across as condescending and obnoxious. There's a disabled girl from a poor family whom the narrative treats as only having worth when she can be of help/use/support to people with perfect health and/or more means. An interesting look at the rhetoric of children's stories of the time, but I can understand why this one hasn't been remembered.

Once on a Time by A. A. Milne

Very witty, as can be expected from Milne. The characters aren't always easy to like, but Milne does go out of his way to make them more than stock roles.

Along the Shore: Tales of the Sea by L. M. Montgomery

It was interesting to see some forerunners of characters and subplots from the Anne series (Montgomery was apparently straight up plagiarizing her own short stories sometimes).

Grounded: The Adventures of Rapunzel by Megan Morrison

Some of the action of this book dragged for me, but by the end it became a really interesting exploration of Rapunzel's relationship with the witch who exploited her. It's extremely difficult for this Rapunzel to accept the truth that she has been exploited by someone whom she considers a loving mother figure, and she spends a lot of the narrative making herself unpleasant and clinging to her delusions--they're all she has. Slowly, she has to accept the truth and figure out how to navigate the complicated feelings she has toward the witch. There's a surprising amount of nuance for a book on this age level, and I was intrigued enough by how this was handled to want to seek out the rest of the series.

The House of a Thousand Candles by Meredith Nicholson

There were some brilliant one-liners in this one. The Gothic-ish concept had potential. But the pacing didn't work for me, I couldn't warm up to the protagonist (what is it with the male leads from this era?), and it turned out to be much less of a page turner than I was expecting.

The Valley of Lost Secrets by Lesley Parr

Middle-grade historical fiction about evacuees in Wales during World War II--how two brother adjust to their new life and host family while getting caught up in some local mysteries, such as the identity of the human skull the elder brother finds hidden in a tree. (There are some similarities to the real-life unsolved case of "Bella in the wych elm," which I found fascinating.) Both readable and believable in its portrayal of the historical setting (which is of major importance to me in historical fiction). This author has a couple of other books, and I think I'll seek them out.

Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys

Well, that was utterly devastating, but what else can one expect from Sepetys? I learned a lot about an event I had never heard of and am quite impressed by the amount of research that went into this writing. Sepetys's author's note provides additional background and even a bibliography.

Miss Buncle's Book by D. E. Stevenson

Loved the premise of this one. It seemed to drag or get redundant as it progressed, and I don't think I'll look for the other books, but some of the characters were delightful. I was reminded a bit of the Mapp and Lucia stories, if they had had a much less cynical worldview.

No significant comics this month, just bits of things here and there.

[normanthedove]

SCREAMING "S.O.S, S.O.S "FIRE FROM THE MEDICAL GODS, DR. TIMOTHY E. KINGS, MD, A SO-CALLED DEA/DOJ EXPERT A COMPLETE FRAUD, HAS RIPPED OFF TAXPAYERS, MILLIONS OF DOLLARS," (!! IT'S AN EMERGENCY!!)

In submitting his Patent application, Dr. King did know that he was committing fraud on the patent office and the United States. Timothy E. King knows that his system of attempting to quantify the opiate treatment of a qualitative element, i.e., that of pain, has no basis in the scientific or medical literature. According to Dr. David Stein, MD, a Wisconsin pain specialist physician, “Dr. Timothy E. King’s patent application consisted of two main sections, the ABSTRACT and the FORENSIC SYSTEM AND METHOD FOR DETECTING FRAUD, ABUSE, AND DIVERSION IN THE PRESCRIPTIVE USE OF CONTROLLED SUBSTANCES.

from the ywtn series reporting “The Tim Rats, MD,” how these Varmints pose an immediate danger to healthcare SCREAMING S.O.S reported in youarewithinthenorms.com NORMAN J CLEMENT, RPH, DDS, NORMAN L. CLEMENT PHARM-TECH, MALACHI F. MACKANDAL PHARMD, BELINDA BROWN-PARKER, IN THE SPIRIT OF JOSEPH SOLVO ESQ., INC.T. SPIRIT OF REV. IN THE SPIRIT OF WALTER R. CLEMENT BS., MS, MBA. HARVEY JENKINS MD,…

[harrison-abbott]

PENICUIK (1996)

Davies called me with the details. It didn’t sound good. A boy had gone missing in one of the provincial towns. Penicuik. He’d been gone for four days and he was thirteen. Cases like this didn’t usually end well. But it was my duty to go and find him.  

So I got in the car and drove out of the city. The boy’s name was Tim Milton.  

I went to a high school in a provincial town as well. It was actually near this same motorway, only the other side of the city; I remember those apocalyptic bus rides each morning, drudging into hell. I fucking hated school and adolescence in general. And it contributed nothing to my being a detective. But, I’m sure most teenagers feel the same.

Penicuik, when I got there, was very similar to the town where I schooled. Industrial housing from the 1950s. A kind of gaunt collectivism. I was supposed to go down and see his parents first, Tim’s parents, to see what they had to say. But I wanted to go to the crime scene first. It wasn’t a ‘scene’ per se, as a collection of evidence. They’d found Tim’s hat in the woods. Football hat. In a spot near the river. The police sealed off this section and I had a rough area on a map as to the location.  

What I first noted this this was some distance from Penicuik. According to his neighbours and family Tim was last seen heading on a bike ride down to the woods, where he often went for journeys.  

I parked my car at the top of the woods and walked along the trail. It took me nearly half an hour to get to the river and I saw nobody as I went. The trail was pulpy with mud and I fumbled about with the map trying to find this cordoned area. The map was no use and I only found it when I stumbled on the yellow POLICE tape strung around a group of trees. I went under the tape.  

Okay … So it was close to the main trail. And, as I heard, close to the river. The most likely scenario was that somebody had attacked Tim here. And during the assault he lost his hat, and the panicky attacker or attackers didn’t notice it. But, what about the bike? Where was Tim’s bike? They’d obviously gone to the effort to hide the bike.  

I went down to the river bank and looked up and down. I followed its current. The bankside was gnarly and tricky to cross. I drank from my flask and it livened me up a bit: shouldn’t be so lazy. There was so much junk in the river it was crazy. All sorts of detritus. Supermarket trolleys and weird household items, TVs, binbags, footballs, everything. There were clearly dodgy histories in Penicuik.  

But then I found what I was looking for.  

The bicycle. It had been thrown in the river, as I’d expected. But had been snagged against a tree trunk by the riverside. Caught against the limbs. I went up and examined it. It was new and usable and boy’s size. The witnesses said he drove a white bike. It was white. I lifted it up and brought it dripping onto the bank.  

So the assailants threw the bike into the river, just as many Penicuik residents did with their un-wanted items. But what did they do with Tim after that? There was a reasonable chance he might be in the river too. I just had the sense that there was something else, other than the river. That Tim had been taken further into the woods. I kept going.

And I came to a bridge. 30 yards above me. I was drinking when I heard a noise. There were heads popped out in the sky atop the bridge. They were kids – teenagers like Tim. Hollering at me. I decided to ignore them and go on but when I came to the bridge I found that the river trail ended there and I wouldn’t be able to get past without jumping in the water. I hesitated, wondering what to do. Then a bottle smashed at my feet. I jumped cartoonishly. And all the boys on the bridge above laughed. I took a slug of whisky and went up the hill.  

I climbed over the fence at the top. There were four lads there on the bridge. Red-faced, drunk and grinning. They walked towards me.  

“What you doing creeping around in the woods, man?” the leader of the group said.

I looked over the area and realised I needed to cross the bridge to continue down the river. There was no other route. The lads kept approaching, confident; I walked towards them.  

“Why are you here anyway?” the leader said again.

“Here, lads,” I said, “I’m not interested in you. Leave me be.”

“Who are you?”

“I just need to get over this bridge and then I’ll be off.”

“Why?”

The leader lad lunged towards me and stood over my body. I’ve always been a small man and not physically terrifying. I flinched. And his cronies laughed.  

I took my pistol out of my holster. They froze when they saw the gun. Lifted it up and bullet into the air. And they all twitched. The gunpowder rang over the woods and the birds burst out of the trees. Then the boys all ran away along the trail.  

Jesus, kids can be so stupid. Fucking idiots.

Did those lads have something to do with Tim’s disappearance? They seemed arrogant in their territory. It was very possible; but I needed to keep going along the river. So I dipped off the main trail and drank along the way.  

The river had a hypnotic, cinematic quality to it. The way it changed light and sound. It made me feel more endangered than those kids or anybody else I’ve faced in my career. A sense of eeriness, as if I might fall in the water any second.  

At length I saw an urban shape over the water. It was some kind of tunnel. I got closer and stared up at it. It looked like some kind of sewage or industrial pipe. But it was obviously disused, as the metal was all rusted. And it just looked decades-old in style.  

I climbed up the bank-side towards it. Which was tricky; I clung to the ivy strands to pull myself up, and when I eventually got to the top was all sweaty and prickling. I approached the tunnel. Something about its image attracted me, as if it wasn’t a part of this case. Even though I knew it was.  

The tunnel had these spikes on the end of it. To stop people walking across the pipe. Next challenge. I held onto one of the spikes at the bottom, then jumped off the side. And, man, I was so unfit that I nearly ripped off the side. But I somehow managed to crawl up onto the surface of the pipe. It was still possible to fall off into the river below so I had to be careful.

I walked the length of the tunnel, looking for clues. I saw little save inscriptions of an old factory district in the city. NIDDRIE – where there was a booming steelwork back in the day. It went bust 20 years back. I’d forgotten about it until then.

At the end of the tunnel I had to jump over the other spikes. It was a goofy jump and I landed on my face but at least I got over. Then I looked at the other end of the tunnel. There was some kind of contraption on its vessel. On the underside of the tunnel, before the piping led back into the woodland ground. A door. A trapdoor that was sealed at the top with a padlock. Wow.  

I tried to open the trapdoor with my hands. It obviously wasn’t working. As I wrestled with it I heard a noise from inside the tunnel. It sounded at first like an animal. I couldn’t move the door. So I brought my pistol out again and I shot through the padlock. The padlock pinged away. I pulled the trapdoor open.

And now looked into a tunnel. Where something was screaming down it in sublime echo.  

It was dark. I turned my torch on and shone it down the cone.  

There was a little boy screeching at the end of it. His body raced about the walls of the tunnel like a confused spider. I put down the torch. And called out to him.

“I’m a policeman!”

The kid screamed.

“I’m a policeman, kid. Are you Tim Milton?”

Stupid question.

“Here, son,” I said, not knowing what else to do. I brought out a chocolate bar I had in my inside pocket. “You must be hungry and tired, right? I’m police and I’m here to get you back to your family. Do you want something to eat?”

The child nervously came down the tunnel.

“Did a group of boys take you here?” I said.

He nodded and his face scrunched up as if he was about to start crying. His face was bruised up. I didn’t want to touch him so I used my words.

“It’s all right, Tim, you’re safe now. Those boys won’t attack you again. And we’ll get them back. I just saw those fuckers up the path. I’ll get them. Arrest them, give them a charge.”

Then the boy started crying. He sobbed hysterically. I asked him to come out of the tunnel and he did so. And crouched there crying in a ball on the grass. But at least there was now green all around him.

Okay so I’d found Tim Milton and the case was essentially solved. He was going to be damaged for the rest of his life. A group of boys older and bigger than him had abducted him and trapped him in a weird tunnel in the woods. Probably for no reason other than sadism. This ranked fairly moderately on the spectrum of cruelty I’ve witnessed throughout my profession.

Tim sat up on the floor. I held the chocolate out to him. And he took it. He ate it. He chomped greedily and it was satisfying to hear his jowls work.  

I put a call through to the team back at the head quarters. Asked them to put me through to Davies.

“I’ve found him,” I said. “Tim Milton is still alive.”

THE END

[bears-wolves-dragons]

Gonna do a list of books i read as a kid. Quick compilation of titles for reference:

Max, the dog that refused to die by Kyra Petrovskaya Wayne

Upchuck and the rotten willie by Bill Wallace

Freddy the Detective by Walter R. Brooks (i swear my copy is called Freddy the pig detective)

The goosebumps series by R. L. Stine

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"GUNMAN DRAWS FIVE YEARS FOR ARMED ROBBERY," Vancouver News Herald. September 15, 1934. Page 1. ---- 'Pen' Sentence Sequel to Downtown Chase By Detectives ---- Identified by two men as the gunman who held up one of them on the night of July 2 last, Thomas Andrew Duncan, 32, marine engineer and itinerant painter, was convicted in County Court on Friday by Judge Harper, and sentenced to five years in the B. C. Penitentiary, for robbery with violence.

The sentence consisted of three years for the robbery, and automatically an extra two years for the use of a gun in the offence.

Duncan, who took his sentence calmly, was positively identified by Joe Swiss, the victim, and by Mike Gregory, a companion of Swiss' at the time the robbery occurred. They declared that two men took part in the robbery, Duncan holding a gun, and the other man rifling Swiss' pockets of $40 in cash, and two cheques totalling $20. An additional $75, sewn into a pocket, was overlooked.

Detectives G. J. Ward and J. L. Headrick told of the arrest of Duncan following a chase through downtown streets on the morning after the robbery. Duncan, who was defended by W. J. Murdock, denied the charge, saying that he was at home during the time of the crime. A defence witness was Constable C. W. McKay, who told of arresting Swiss on a charge of drunkenness, shortly after the robbery was alleged to have taken place,

In passing sentence, Judge Harper said that if he had to rely solely on the evidence of Swiss, he would have had to have given the accused the benefit of the doubt. He had further identification from Gregory, however. The robbery took place in the entrance to the Alvin Rooms, unit block Cordova Street, where Swiss lived.

Walter S. Owen prosecuted.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Death Note Master Post

Shipping

L/Light: Oh God No

Tom Riddle/Light Yagami: In that AU Where They’re Friends in Hogwarts

Light Yagami

Did I Want Light to Win? (It’d Get Me a Better Second Half of Death Note, That’s for Sure)

What if Tom Riddle and Light Yagami or Tom Riddle and Edward Cullen Met in Hogwarts?

Would Light Yagami and Edward Cullen Get Along?

Is Light Yagami a Psychopath?

What Would Dumbledore Think of a Light Yagami Who is Friends With Tom Riddle?

What if Tom Riddle Was Friends with a Light Yagami Who Had a Kira Mindset?

How Would a Conversation Between Light Yagami and Carlisle Cullen from Twilight Go?

Kira and Going to Trial

What if Light Wasn’t Kira?

What if Light Never Got the Death Note Back?

What if Light Yagami from Death Note, Edward Cullen from Twilight, and Walter White from Breaking Bad Were Trapped in a Game of Wits with No Cheating?

What if Light Yagami and Tom Riddle Were in the Saw Game with No Cheating?

Would Light Want to Be a Twilight Vampire?

Is Light Yagami Sexist?

How Would Light React to Some Kid Who Hates Him?

What if Light Got the Notebook from Rem and Misa from Ryuk? and Would Light Take the Eye Deal?

Light Doesn't Actually Like People Who Like Kira (Or Would L Have Had More Success if He Pretended to be a Fan?)

What if Ryuk Had Sacrificed Himself in the Warehouse and Killed Everyone Except for Light?

What Would Light Think if the Netflix Death Note Adaptation Came Out in Universe?

What if Light Had a Twin Identical Super Identical Sibling?

Rock, Paper, Scissors with Light and L

Light Made Two Choices then Went All in Baby

Why Did L Suspect Light Anyway?

Would Light Be Kira If He'd Been a Woman?

Sayu Yagami

Sayu’s Implied Rape

What if Sayu Was a Delinquent?

Soichiro Yagami

Would Soichiro Have Ever Used the Death Note?

What if Soichiro Yagami and Charlie Swan from Twilight Swapped Places?

Misa Amane

Why Did Misa Become a “Kira” Anyway?

Yes, Misa is Intelligent

What if Light Got the Notebook from Rem and Misa from Ryuk?

Death Note Without Misa: Or How Does Light Kill L Without Her and Vice Versa?

What if Misa Was Anti-Kira Instead of Pro-Kira?

Ryuk

What if Ryuk Put in a Fake Rule That Each Death Had to be Unique?

Did Ryuk Care About Light?

Did Ryuk's Opinion of Light Change Much in the Series?

L

L is a Walking Breaching Experiment

What if L Went to Hogwarts with Tom Riddle?

How is L a Credible Detective/Why Doesn't Anyone Question His Methods of Obtaining Evidence?

Why Didn't L Persecute Light and Misa After Obtaining the Death Note?

Or: Why the Lind L. Taylor Event Was Entirely Unnecessary Save for Showmanship Reasons and Psychological Warfare

What if L Had Released Information on the Notebook to the Public?

What Would Be L's Twilight Vampire Gift and Would the Volturi Recruit Him?

What Would L Think if the Netflix Death Note Adaptation Came Out in Universe?

How Would L Feel if Light Confessed to Being Kira?

L Cares About the Hunt, Not the Mystery or the Answer

Rock, Paper, Scissors with Light and L

L Hates Wammy's with a Burning Passion

Why Did L Suspect Light Anyway?

Would L Get to Be L if He Was a Woman?

Watari

What is Watari's Deal?

Mello

Mello, Near, and Why Wammys Sucks

Would Mello Have Written Near’s Name in the Notebook? (Yes, Absolutely)

It's Not That I Dislike Mello as a Character, I Just Hate What the Narrative Did with Him

Near

Did Near Kill Mikami with the Death Note?

Mello, Near, and Why Wammys Sucks

Wammy's

Mello, Near, and Why Wammys Sucks

I Isekai as a Wammy's Orphan, What Do I Do?

My Lack of Thoughts on A and Many Thoughts on Wammy's Orphanage

Raye Penber

What if Raye Hadn’t Died?

Shinigami

Can Shinigami be Seen on Infared?

Crossovers

What if Tom Riddle Isekaied into Death Note?

What About a Death Note Crossover with Twilight? and Would Light Realize Vampires Aren’t Human?

What if Lisa Simpson from the Death Note Parody Met Light? (Bad Day to Be Lisa)

What if Light Yagami Reincarnated as Bella Swan in 2006 on the Day of her Arrival in Forks? and What Would Light Think of the Cullens? and What Do the Cullens Think of Light?

What if Light Yagami Reincarnated as Tamaki Suoh from Ouran High School Host Club?

What if Light Yagami was a Pureblood in Hogwarts when Tom Riddle was There?

General Thoughts on the Story and Adaptations

Vinelle and I Ponder a Good Death Note Film Adaptation

Sexism in Death Note

What if the Press Had Stopped Showing Criminals on TV?

What if Every Death Did Have to Be Unique?

What Would Happen if the Media Had Stopped Showing Criminals?

You Have to See Something of a Person's Face to Kill Them: Unclear How Much is Needed

[holmesillustrations]

Left: “I heard the sharp snap of a twisted key.” Dying Detective, Walter Paget, The Strand Dec 1913 Characters: Watson, Holmes

Right: “He examined them minutely.” Cardboard Box, Sidney Paget, The Strand Jan/Feb 1893 Characters: Lestrade, Holmes, Watson

[ulkaralakbarova]

When secretive new neighbors move in next door, suburbanite Ray Peterson and his friends let their paranoia get the best of them as they start to suspect the newcomers of evildoings and commence an investigation. But it’s hardly how Ray, who much prefers drinking beer, reading his newspaper and watching a ball game on the tube expected to spend his vacation. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Ray Peterson: Tom Hanks Lt. Mark Rumsfield: Bruce Dern Carol Peterson: Carrie Fisher Art Weingartner: Rick Ducommun Bonnie Rumsfield: Wendy Schaal Ricky Butler: Corey Feldman Hans Klopek: Courtney Gains Dr. Werner Klopek: Henry Gibson Walter Seznick: Gale Gordon Vic, Garbageman #1: Dick Miller Joe, Garbageman #2: Robert Picardo Uncle Reuben Klopek: Theodore Gottlieb Detective #1: Franklyn Ajaye Dave Peterson: Cory Danziger Detective #2: Rance Howard Ricky’s Girlfriend: Heather Haase Steve Kuntz: Nicky Katt Ricky’s Friend: Bill Stevenson Ricky’s Friend: Gary Hays Cop: Kevin Gage Cop: Dana Olsen Walter’s Daughter: Brenda Benner Suzanne Weingartner: Patrika Darbo Voiceover Actor: Sonny Carl Davis Voiceover Actor: Moosie Drier Voiceover Actor: Leigh French Voiceover Actor: Archie Hahn Voiceover Actor: Billy Jayne Voiceover Actor: Phyllis Katz Voiceover Actor: Jeffrey Kramer Voiceover Actor: Lynne Marie Stewart Voiceover Actor: Arnold F. Turner Voiceover Actor: Gigi Vorgan Ricky’s friend (uncredited): Carey Scott Kid on Bike (Uncredited): Tony Westbrook Ray’s Boss (uncredited): Kevin McCarthy Film Crew: Sound Effects: Mark A. Mangini Casting: Mike Fenton Casting: Judy Taylor Costume Design: Rosanna Norton Original Music Composer: Jerry Goldsmith Director: Joe Dante Executive Producer: Ron Howard Production Sound Mixer: Ken King Hairstylist: Christine Lee Production Design: James H. Spencer Set Designer: James E. Tocci Producer: Larry Brezner Producer: Michael Finnell Additional Photography: John Hora Music Editor: Kenneth Hall Set Decoration: John H. Anderson Foley Editor: Ron Bartlett Makeup Artist: Daniel C. Striepeke Co-Producer: Dana Olsen Special Effects Supervisor: Ken Pepiot Editor: Marshall Harvey Camera Operator: Michael D. O’Shea Director of Photography: Robert M. Stevens Stunts: George P. Wilbur Associate Producer: Pat Kehoe Dolly Grip: Kirk Bales Key Grip: Charles Saldaña Stunts: John-Clay Scott Supervising Sound Editor: George Simpson Stunts: Eddie Hice Stunts: Gary Epper Stunts: Wally Rose Stunt Double: Brian J. Williams Stunts: Jeff Ramsey Stunts: John Hateley Stunts: Ray Saniger Art Direction: Charles L. Hughes ADR Editor: Stephen Purvis Stunts: Gary Morgan Stunts: Frank Orsatti Second Assistant Director: David D’Ovidio Sound Editor: Warren Hamilton Jr. Costume Supervisor: Cheryl Beasley Blackwell Makeup Artist: Michael Germain Foley Artist: Dan O’Connell Transportation Coordinator: Randy White Boom Operator: Randall L. Johnson Foley Artist: Kevin Bartnof Visual Effects Supervisor: Michael Owens Still Photographer: Ralph Nelson Jr. Script Supervisor: Roz Harris Leadman: Nigel A. Boucher Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Michael Minkler Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Gary C. Bourgeois Foley Editor: Aaron Glascock Sound Editor: Michael J. Benavente Chief Lighting Technician: Leslie J. Kovacs Costume Supervisor: Eric H. Sandberg Greensman: Dave Newhouse Construction Coordinator: Michael Muscarella Stunts: Roydon Clark Stunts: Sandra Lee Gimpel Set Designer: Judy Cammer Assistant Editor: Uri Katoni Lighting Technician: Brent Poe Grip: T. Daniel Scaringi Production Coordinator: Karen Shaw Lighting Technician: Ken W. Ballantine Special Effects: Michael Arbogast Studio Teacher: Adria Later Stunt Coordinator: Jeff Smolek Construction Foreman: Ciro Vuoso Production Accountant: Julianna Arenson Assistant Chief Lighting Technician: Benny McNulty Set Designer: Erin M. Cummins Property Master: Gregg H. Bilson Lighting Technician: E. Christopher Reed Stunts: Rick Sawaya Unit Publicist: Reid Rosefelt Special Effects: Jeff Pepiot Grip: Danny Falkengren Best Boy Grip: Hal Nelson Grip: Paul E. Sutton Special Effects: Thomas R....

[youphoriaot7]

helloooo!! i am sen, nice to meet you all :D been hanging around a bunch on qsmpblr and i'm starting to brainrot on other subjects so i figured i'd update my pinned.

sen – they/them – over 18 i write fic on ao3 here, and cosplay over on tiktok here! if you want more links, you can check out my carrd here! online series: life series, qsmp, ordem paranormal, generation loss streamers/yters: cellbit, tazercraft (pactw / mikethelink), fitmc, goodtimeswithscar, grian, ranboo other: dead boy detectives, the sandman, good omens, sherlock holmes (frogwares games, bbc sherlock), the magnus archives/protocol, malevolent

making a tags masterlist below this (because things got out of hand on here VERY quickly lmaoooo) – not necessary to read ofc, it's mostly for me ksjghsjfk i'll add tags as things happen!

fic/studies masterlist [link soon]

GENERAL TAGS (A-Z) character study | breakdown fanart | fic | whumptober2023 | sen's qsmp whumptober

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES

dbda | dbda fanart | dbda quotes | dbda rewatch | dbda visuals | dbda memes | dbda theory | dbda headcanons | dbda fic dbda spoilers | dead boy detectives spoilers first meeting | dandelion shrine | devlin house | lighthouse leapers | two dead dragons | creeping forest | very long stairway | hungry snake

HERMITCRAFT / LIFE SERIES

hc fanart | trafficblr

ORDEM PARANORMAL

opq | opq liveblogging

QSMP

qsmp memes | qsmp quotes | qsmp clips | qsmp liveblogging | qsmp vodblogging | qmongus | qatching up | the great brazil meetup | qsmp recap | queuesmp qsmp headcanons | qsmp theory | qsmp fanart | qsmp fic | qsmp drabble disappearances | the federation are evil | 00100001 | isla quesadilla pl;anarchy | pl;bluebird | pl;childhood | pl;existence | pl;fuga | pl;missing | pl;paradise | pl;perfection | pl;presidency | pl;worse ev;arena | ev;arrival | ev;dinner | ev;chainsaw | ev;corruption | ev;fedescape | ev;hatch | ev;jaidens | ev;jailbreak | ev;manipulation | ev;memory | ev;resgate | ev;watchtower

SHERLOCK HOLMES

sherlock holmes the awakened | shta sherlock holmes chapter one | shco shta spoilers | shco spoilers shta memes | shco memes | shta visuals | shco visuals | shta quotes | shco quotes | shta fanart | shco fanart

CHARACTER TAGS (A-Z)

A

qsmp antoine | qsmp arin

B

opq benito qsmp bagi | qsmp baghera | qsmp bbh | qsmp bobby

C

cat king charles rowland createtrio crystal palace opq carol qsmp cellbit | qsmp chayanne | qsmp cucurucho

D

dandelion sprites david the demon opq diego qsmp dapper

E

edwin paine / edwin payne esther finch qsmp elquackity | qsmp empanada | qsmp etoiles

F

fitpac frogwares holmes frogwares jon frogwares mycroft frogwares sherlock frogwares watson qsmp felps | qsmp fit / qsmp fitmc | qsmp foolish | qsmp forever

G

goodtimeswithscar / gtws grian guapoduo qsmp german | qsmp goddesses (mine, mumza, lore)

H

hgduo | hideandseektrio

I

impulsesv

J

jenny green / jenny the butcher opq jeffrey qsmp jaiden | qsmp juanaflippa

L

opq lucie | opq luis qsmp leo | qsmp luzu

M

monty the crow / monty finch mumbo jumbo qsmp mariana | qsmp maxo | qsmp mike | qsmp missa | qsmp mouse | qsmp myo (hope / memory)

N

the night nurse niko sasaki qsmp niki

P

payneland pacman | pissa pearlescentmoon qsmp pac | qsmp pepito | qsmp philza | qsmp pierre | qsmp pol | qsmp pomme

Q

qsmp quackity

R

qsmp ramon | qsmp richarlyson | qsmp rivers | qsmp roier

S

seekduo simon the bully qsmp slimecicle | qsmp sunny

T

technoblade tragic mick qsmp tallulah | qsmp tazercraft | qsmp tina | qsmp tilin | qsmp trumpet | qsmp tubbo

V

verner vogel violet holmes

W

qsmp walter-bob | qsmp willy

[kevrocksicehouse]

Richard Roundtree

(1942-2023)

Gordon Parks' Shaft has one of the most unassuming of iconic openings in cinema, just five minutes of Richard Roundtree walking through the streets of New York  sporting a brown leather jacket and black turtleneck, cutting around traffic and flipping off drivers, showing his badge to a street vendor, shooting the shit with a blind newsie while Isaac Hayes’s Oscar-winning theme (as classic as James Bond’s) extols a bad mutha-shut-your-mouth who’ll risk his neck for his brother-man and won’t cop out when there’s danger all about. Before the plot even starts to kick in we know all there is to know about him. John Shaft is a private dick (a sex machine to all the chicks) and this is HIS town.

Blaxploitation was a misleading term for what was really Afro-contextualism, the reframing of B-Movie noir and action films with Black characters and actors. Shaft was a classic PI trying to find a kidnapped girl while maneuvering  between the cops and the mob but his race (and Roundtree’s charisma) reframed the standard detectives alienation into a general long-assumed acceptance of how things are (we can imagine a young Walter Mosley sitting in the audience and taking notes). Roundtree played him less as a jaded cynic than as a sardonic man-about town as, much Cary Grant as Bogart. And while a typical detective film has the hero walking, sadder but wiser (or more embittered) Shaft just turns back into the city, his city, laughing his ass off.

It was Roundtree’s breakthrough and the high point of a good career. He played the character in two sequels and a later reboot where he sat back and let Samuel L. Jackson (playing his namesake nephew) do the heavy lifting. He played an Evel Knievel-style stunt rider in the enjoyably awful Earthquake (1974) and appeared as various authority figures in City Heat (1984), David Fincher’s Se7en (1995) Rian Johnson’s Brick (2005) and many, many other films. But there’s a reason he’s being commemorated. Sidney Potier may have given a black cop authority but Roundtree gave his panache and style. RIP.