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#crime weekly
scorpion-flower · 1 year
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Currently watching Crime Weekly's podcast episodes on the Gabby Petito case (they recorded them one year ago) and I can't believe that Stephanie and Derrick threw shade at the creators who were covering the case because 'it is the hottest story at the moment' only for them to say 5 minutes later that they also don't know all the things related to it 🙄
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desire-mona · 1 month
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happy thursday everyone
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see-arcane · 4 months
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Utterson, last week: "My best friend is missing and his likely murderer was found dead in his lab with all the doors locked. Where could Jekyll have gone? It's all so mysterious! I can't imagine anything being stranger."
Lanyon's Ghost slamming down the hottest gossip from beyond the veil in his letter: "Bro you will not fuckin BELIEVE,"
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hegory-grousing · 3 months
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ok. we have lesbian cameron monday. and I'm in the trenches tuesday. and wilson's wretched white dance/wilson pussy indulgence/wilson sparkle on wednesday (wilson wednesday for brevity). and thirteen thirstday. we NEED a post to pass around on foreman friday. I NEED it
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garbage-truck-beep · 6 months
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notice the similarities
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valdrift · 10 months
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im so srs but true crime fans annoy me so fucking much like. a lot ! i cant even be polite abt it, someone tries to ask if i've listened/watched the latest podcast tv show movie whatever and i shut tht down immediately. like i do not caaare abt how u want to ~understand the mind of a killer~ i don't care tht u think ur so quirky and unique for not being disturbed by graphic descriptions of death i don't care!!! the blatant disregard for the victims and their loved ones so u can parade around their killers like theyre ur problematic fav on a tv show irks me to no end like ooohhhhh u have such an interest in the macabre and u love listening to podcasts of white women giggling over wine while discussing the gruesome details of people getting brutally murdered. shld we get the fbi in here i bet theyd love to hear ur dumbass theories abt what happened. god.
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the-plothole-court · 2 years
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andrew: neil.
neil: drew.
andrew: the food is there. the drinks are there. the cats are there, and you’re choosing to do math homework? blatant favorism.
neil:
andrew: just get in the blanket fort.
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sentienttoastah · 29 days
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the universe has been hinting at me to read crime and punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky recently.
Tumblr should I do it.
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pocketsizedquasar · 8 months
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fedallah my best friend my babygirl he did nothing wrong ever and he deserved so much better than the absolutely horrendously racist way he was treated by the narrative and i’m fistfighting melville in a wendy’s parking lot about it. btw.
(read my mobydick webcomic btw i prommy i’m not as racist as melville)
(drew this a few weeks ago so i could solidify his colors n add him to my lineup)
[ID: A digitally drawn character reference for Fedallah from Moby Dick. He is a thin, middle aged Persian man with light brown skin and dark curly hair and beard. His hair is mostly covered beneath a white skull cap. He wears a white button down tunic, purple ish-gray pants, and a knee brace on his right knee. One full body drawing of him shows him holding a harpoon. There is also a lined drawing of just his face, and one of a closeup on his knee brace from the side, showing its construction and buckles. His name is handwritten in both English and Farsi.]
(ft some sketchbook sketches below the cut, which have been available to patrons to see for weeks along w lots more sketches so if early/extra art is ur jam… check me out there hehe)
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immediatebreakfast · 1 year
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It's incredible how Frankenstein immediately presented the difference between two styles of knowledge approach when Victor met his two professors.
With professor Krempe, Victor repeats the same mistake of ignoring his words, just like he did with his father's words. Even if Krempe is in the right as a professor to call out that Victor had spent his childhood studying already disproved knowledge, he forgot an important part of being a teacher. To make your students seek the knowledge themselves after you gave them the basics. Of course it's not professor Krempe's fault that Victor spent three days in his room doing nothing, but I do think that he could have worded his suggestions a little bit better. Just a little bit.
Yet, with professor Waldman Victor finally found the thing that he was yearning for. The validation that even if all of the authors and the knowledge that he spent studying in his little youth could not be applied to modern science, they were still important in this pillar of discovery, and their knowledge was not forgotten.
It was really delightful to read how professor Waldman made Victor fall in love with science again. From what it is described to be an amazing lecture of the history of chemistry, to the suggestions that he gives Victor at the end of the chapter. This professor managed to turn around Victor's disgust of modern science to new curiosity with a stern lecture and a few kind words, a feat that only a good professor can do.
It's remarkable to see what directions can do regarding in how to apply knowledge. And it is also very welcome to hear how we simply can't ignore ancient knowledge just because in the present their discoveries are now obsolete. Yes, all of the authors that Victor read were pseudo science who had no basis in real evidence, and at the same time they were the foundation of chemistry. Professor Waldman understands that without the small ambitions of knowledge of the past, we would not have the feats of the present.
Then he proceeds to give Victor an excellent practice of this knowledge in his laboratory, and gives him a list of books that he needs, while telling him that he can't neglect other branches of science if he wants to achieve his goals. No wonder Victor felt so happy at the end of this chapter, he finally found the direction that he needed so badly to dive into what he calls his future destiny.
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eurydice-pens · 29 days
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OMG DID,,, U MAKE THE PARTNERS IN CRIME AU,,,,
WAA i am so flattered that you think i might have made this wonderful au but the partners in crime au is primarily a collaborative creation of the lovely @princemonarchempress and @floating-far-from-earth!!!
here are the posts they've made about the au hehe <333
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secret-bug-pain-blog · 5 months
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[THURSDAY]
Buried Alive - Outlived Family - "Not growing old was fun at first, but then everyone around me started dying."
Hi! Hello! We're here, Late To The Event. Technically, we have plans for all these days! We only remembered this event was ongoing halfway through the week, and by then... well, you know how it is. Technically, this isn't fully compliant with the prompt, but it's close enough that we figure it counts, since outliving his entire family was actually slightly less impactful than outliving his husband for our boy.
Fic below the cut, and @species-whump-weekly we sincerely hope this isn't too late to count.
You have been asleep for long enough that you aren't even sure if he'll still be alive.
His swarm finds you before you find them.
Marina gasps when she sees you. She's years older, now - wings worn at the edges, shell thin and flimsy, aged far beyond the young butterfly you saw her as last.
She looks older than you ever have been. She looks older than you suspect you ever will be.
Her father, your friend – your paramour, your years-long companion – isn’t with her. You fear, for a moment, you’ve stumbled upon them too late. You nearly cringe away from the migration them and there, fearful of discovering yet another thing that’s slipped away while you hibernated.
But you don’t have the heart to walk away.
He’s been waiting for you.
He is old, and frail, and dying. You can taste the creeping end in his veins from the moment you step foot into the tent. His shell is pitted with age, now, cracked and chinked in places, brittle enough that you fear taking his hand will hurt him. Time has weathered him, his wings transparent and paper-thin around him, and you… you stay the same, looking just as young as the day you first met him on the stolen life of those who unearthed your grave.
“I knew you’d come back,” he tells you. “You wouldn’t die that easily.”
You hold his frail, trembling claw in both of yours. You aren’t sure how he can say that so confidently. He has always had more faith in you than you have in yourself.
He invites you to drain him.
You hesitate, at first. Every instinct you have picked up over your long, long life is screaming for you to run. To survive, to keep your secret- he knows, and it's against everything you've ever learned to remain, to let him speak, to not preserve your life-
He knows. But maybe he's known for a long, long time.
You take his offer. You take his life.
You know what it is that killed him the moment you bite. The magic of the wastes, the low hum that seeps into your bones, the constant background noise that sometimes threatens to tear you apart - it gathers within him, down to the deepest parts of his shell. There are lumps of flesh in his heart, his lungs, full of the same mind-jarring, skull-shattering buzz.
He has the wasteland sickness.
You think that, perhaps, he has had the wasteland sickness for a long time.
You drain him until he is dry, until every last flicker of the wasteland sickness is gone from his body, until he is stiff and his flesh holds the texture of jerky, and you let your fangs linger on his shrivelled veins until you can't bear to remain anymore.
You are sick, the next day.
And the day after that, and the day after that.
The buzz is in your bones, now - too close, too loud, rattling through your shell like a twisted beast. You have the wasteland sickness, stolen from his dying body, and it is trying to take you the way it took him.
You do not die.
You don't know if it's a blessing or a curse, anymore.
It is energy. It is vitality, the buzzing, throbbing pulse beyond the heart of a beast on a scale you cannot comprehend.
It is life force, and you can stomach it just the same.
A week passes. Two weeks. The symptoms slow, as you digest it. It becomes your life, your energy, it bends to keep you alive, it becomes you, while you lie weak and dizzy and throwing up blood.
It becomes you. You become it, in turn.
It is the last pulse of your husband, and you refuse to waste it.
You stumble out of the tent two weeks later, exhausted and bearing injuries you cannot see with your naked eyes. You are tired, and hurt, and you have burnt through most of the life you had, but you are alive.
His body is still waiting for you.
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fern-pajamabrain · 8 months
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ugh it's so nice seeing the internet go crazy about Adventure Time once again, I'd have loved for this energy to have been there during the final season. my grudge with c*rtoon n*twork will be eternal
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lameow-l · 7 months
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YALL!!!
the leaked boss with the void inside his abdomen has similar movement set to childe’s boss
THEY KILLED MY BOI????
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mutalieju · 9 months
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just transitioning would not fix Kendall Roy but becoming a rich lady in an agatha christie mystery who gets to dramatically faint when the lights come back on and there's a dead body in the dining room 100% would
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veronicaleighauthor · 14 days
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Fun Facts About “The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughters”
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In my previous post, I announced that my story “The Light House Keeper’s Daughters” was published in the latest issue of Black Cat Weekly. If you’re interested in buying a copy of the magazine for your eReader, you can do so here.
Whenever I publish a story, I try to do a Fun Facts post about the story, to share what inspired it and what I learned in my research along the way.
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Let’s begin with the two main characters – Minnie and Brenna Smith. Many, many years ago when I was a teenager, I wrote about a character named Minnie Smith. She had a younger sister named Brenna and she was an aspiring writer. I had planned to do a whole coming of age series on her. Though the stories were based in the early 20th century, Minnie Smith was supposed to be based on yours truly and Brenna was supposed to be based on my sister. A couple of years ago, I revived the characters Minnie and Brenna, only this time it was for a short mystery story that has yet to be published. And I have continued writing about them. So, after like twenty-five years of living in my imagination, Minnie and Brenna have finally appeared in print.
“The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughters” is the start of a new series. I’m not great at titles, but for now I’ve been calling the it “The Sleuthing Smith Sisters Series.” I’m open to suggestions, if anyone can think of anything better.
The second story in the series, “A Slice of Life,” has just been accepted for publication.
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I’ve been picturing Sophie Nelisse as Minnie Smith. Unfortunately, I don’t know who I exactly picture Brenna as. Though Minnie is my literary counterpart, I didn’t look at all like Sophie Nelisse when I was in my teens. My hair was often a greasy mess, I had bad acne, and I had glasses. But hey, this is fiction, right?
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This story is based in January 1918, in Michigan City, Indiana. It was partly inspired by this photo of a mother and two daughters near the Michigan Lighthouse, after a blizzard hit. The father, who I assume took the photo, was the true historical lighthouse keeper of Michigan City. But for the sake of this story, it is Mr. Smith. I also researched lighthouses, and in the end, I had to create my own version of the Michigan City Lighthouse to fit my story. The Michigan City Lighthouse still stands today and it is a tourist site.  
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“The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughters” is set against the backdrop of the January 1918 Blizzard. The winter storm paralyzed the Midwest and it was considered the Blizzard of the Century until the Blizzard of 1978 hit. I did copious amounts of research about the blizzard, how long it lasted, the descriptions were based on photographs and commentary of those who witnessed it.
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If you were alive in Indiana in 1978, you have a Blizzard of 78 story. To this day, no storm compares to it. I grew up hearing my parents, grandmother, and friends talk about it. Whenever we have a winter storm now, the Blizzard of 78 is referenced. When the blizzard hit, my dad lived in Michigan City, so some of the descriptions of the area and what he experienced found its way into this story.
Until next time!
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