LAWMEN

4

On the afternoon of October 1, 1975, Jerry Thompson and detectives Beal and Ballantyne from Bountiful made a surprise visit to Theodore Bundy’s apartment. There must have been  an almost tangible sense of anticipation as the trio of lawmen climbed the steps of 565 First Avenue, and Bundy, who was just stepping out of the shower, did not hear them approach the apartment marked number 2. When the knock came, Bundy threw a towel around his waist and opened the door. When he saw the man who was relentlessly pursuing him, he greeted the somber-faced detective with a smile and said, « Hi Jerry …. to what do I owe the honor of the visit? » Bundy, always socially correct in public, invited the men to step inside.

Thompson, who was pulling a subpoena from his pocket, informed Bundy he had something for him. At that moment, Bundy started to turn pale and all three men watched as their suspect’s heart could be seen pounding in his chest. Having committed so many murders, and knowing he’d been under almost constant surveillance by police, he no doubt envisioned an arrest warrant for the slaying of one of his Utah victims. However, when Thompson told him the court-ordered appearance was for a lineup, he quickly regained his composure and said, « Oh God, is that all? ». Thompson said, “You were waiting for the Murder One, weren’t you, Ted? That’s next.” In all of his dealings with Bundy, this was the only time Detective Thompson ever witnessed him losing his composure. After this, he would remain calm and collected no matter what the circumstances.

Wrong Kind of Proof

Originally posted by nbiancaandreea

            You knocked on your brother’s office door with a smile on your face and a bag of take-out on your arm, looking through the window to smile at him. You could see Neal’s dark hair from where he sat facing Peter, and you could see your brother’s face, lighting up with excitement as he saw you. Through the window, he gestured for you to come on in.

            Peter stood up, dropping whatever he and Neal had been talking about immediately. You grinned, set the take-out on the desk, and wrapped your arms around his neck. Peter held you tightly and buried his nose in your hair for just a second before you parted. He was still beaming. Neal grinned fondly at your sibling reunion.

            “Y/N,” Peter cried, keeping his hand on your shoulder. “Why didn’t you call ahead? I could’ve sent Jones to carry those for you.”

Keep reading

Under the Apple Tree--ch. 1

Ship:  Outlaw Queen

Rating: T

Synopsis:  After being hit by the Olympian Crystal, Robin was transported to Seattle, unable to return to Storybrooke or any magical. When it was clear he had no way to return to his family, Robin finally decided to bury his broken heart in work–founding a landscaping business, Sherwood Forestry.  Fifteen years later, Robin receives an order from the last person he ever thought he’d see again, making him realize that hope never truly dies.

Under the Apple Tree

“What’s on the agenda for today, Mary?” Robin Locksley asked his secretary as he stepped into the small office of his landscaping business, Sherwood Forestry.

Mary flipped the page of her agenda book, looked down and nodded.  “You’ve got a delivery for 8 am.  A lady in Enchanted Estates ordered an apple tree to be planted on her front lawn.”

“Enchanted Estates?” Robin asked, idly shuffling through a stack of bills on his desk.  “I don’t believe I’ve heard of the place.”

“It’s one of those big, ritzy subdivisions in Misthaven.”

Robin sucked in a quick breath.  “Beg pardon? What is the name of the city?”

“Misthaven, Washington” Mary answered.  “Tiny little town way up north.  It’s a hop, skip and a jump to the Canadian border.  I passed through there once on my way to…”

The woman talked on, but Robin didn’t tuned out.  Misthaven.  The word dredged up memories that were never far from the surface.

Keep reading

If your Dragons are Drunkards...

This may be useful for you. Also: tavern-owners, distillers, brewers, tavern-goers, lawmen, mercenaries, courtesans, etc. etc. etc. Have a list of the plants that can make alcohol in Sornieth.


Most of the items I have listed here are for use in wines, however, Sornieth does have a few wheat-like plants that produce grain. Grain is used to make stronger brews like vodka, whiskey, and rum. Wine and brandy need fermented fruit.

Please note that I am NOT an expert in malting in any way. Most of this has been gleaned from books, and as such is probably lacking in some areas. That being said, if you’d like to contact me about the malting process, I can link you to several good sources/share what I know.

FR plants you can make spirits out of:

Amaranth (a grain - used for stronger stuff like whiskey, gin, rum, and vodka)

Prickly Pear

Watermelon

Sugarmelon

Strawberry

Blood Acorn

Woodland Acorn

Blackberry

Winter’s Delight (in my lore this is a rare, delicious wine harvested on the winter solstice)

Charged Duneberry

Potash Peach (must be cooled before fermenting)

Raspberry

Aether Cherries

Red Delicious Apple

Honeycrisp Apple


Other items used for flavoring:

Honeycomb

Luminous Almonds

Roses (petals only)

Cinnamon

Jasmine (goes well with strawberries)

Speckled Petunia (Reduction) (sweet, grassy flavor)

Hallowed Ivy (lifts a dragon’s emotional spirits)

Sour Green Apple

Granny Smith Apple


Use at your own risk:

Blue Entoloma (sleep aid)

Blood Spath (high in calories)

High-Voltage Almonds

Maiden’s Blush (slightly toxic, raises body temperature)

This is not, of course, the final jurisdiction on matters! I may have missed a few plants/not included a few because I am not a brewer myself. Feel free to use this information any way you please~

So there you have it. I wanted to make a list like this for a long time, I may do a different one with the known recipes of Sornieth’s garnishes/sauces/food recipes when I find time.

Do not drink and fly. Stay safe, kids.

Happy brewing!

5 + 1 - Leverage/Flash&Legends

Fic: Five Times Mick and Len Met the Leverage Team (Plus One Time They Hung Out) - Ao3 Link
Fandom: DC’s Legends of Tomorrow, the Flash, Leverage
Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, but mostly gen
Series: Part 3 of Leveraged Interference - Ao3 Link

Summary: “Len,” Mick says.

He has that long-suffering ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me’ tone of voice.

A/N: Quasi-prequel to the other two parts. Inspired by a conversation with @daughterofscotland. Most of these incidents are later forgotten by all the characters involved before the start of ‘The One Where They Steal an Arsonist’.

—————————————————————————————————-

1 – The Cup

“Len,” Mick says.

He has that long-suffering ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me’ tone of voice.

“Yeah?” Len says, looking up from his plans.

He did not look up for his plans for nothing, but Mick’s ‘nope’ voice was one of them. Mostly because Mick’s expressions in the conversations that followed were usually priceless.

“I’m admiring your new laundry basket, s’all,” Mick says.

Len blinks. That’s strange. Laundry basket?

“Is this some way of saying I don’t put my clothing away?” he asks suspiciously. That seemed like a Mick thing – Mick was so weird about eating vegetables and shit like that – but Mick usually tossed his shirt any which way too, so it didn’t seem like…

“No,” Mick says, and points.

Len looks. It’s a pile of clothing hanging over…

“Oh, that,” he says, and looks down at the plans hastily to hide his grin.

Keep reading

Imagine Neal introducing you to his team.

Originally posted by wintercanarys

You looked around the FBI with interest and trepidation. Neal noticed, and he subtly slipped his hand into yours. Guiltily, you smiled at him and squeezed his fingers, walking a little closer.

“Relax,” he urged, giving you a convincing, comfortable smile. “They’ll love you, just like I do. Well…” his smile turned teasing. “Maybe not exactly like I do.”

“That would be awkward,” you agreed, blushing slightly. You realized that while he’d been distracting you, you’d reached the large office on the mezzanine. One man was behind the desk, sitting back in his chair and talking to two other agents, a man and a woman.

Neal cleared his throat. “Hey, guys!”

Had the doorway been larger, you probably would’ve tried to move behind Neal. He moved his hand to your back so that you weren’t as tempted. All three agents turned to look at you and Neal. The man behind the chair started to smile without saying anything, but his expression greatly reminded you of a mischievous, matchmaking friend.

The young man waved at you. The woman started to smirk at Neal. “So it’s true,” she said in playful surprise. “There is a girl willing to put up with you.”

“Not only that,” his other teammate said, turning to look back at the man behind the desk, “But she’s not a criminal, either.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Neal sarcastically invited their criticisms. “Go ahead, make fun of me in front of my girlfriend.”

“They weren’t waiting for your permission,” the boss said, still smiling. He sat forward and looked at you kindly. “Peter Burke. I’m Neal’s handler.”

“Diana Berrigan,” Diana told you, holding out a hand for you to take.

“Jones,” the man behind her said with a respectful nod.

“Y/N,” you replied, a little less intimidated.


Send in requests!

buzzfeed.com
It’s Time To Let Timothy Olyphant Be Funny
After years of playing lawmen and criminals, Timothy Olyphant's work in Santa Clarita Diet makes a great case for his second act as a comedy star.
By Bim Adewunmi

“Whether as a straight-shooting lawman or a criminal mastermind, he has been firmly locked into “crime” as a default home for his talents; frankly, you don’t have a jaw like that and not. Add in his serious brown eyes, his straight and cunning-looking teeth that he bares easily in his wolf/shark grin (a colleague describes them as “racist teeth”), those slim hips, his walk (that weird walk!), the way he bites out his words, and the conclusion is foregone. Timothy Olyphant is in possession of a specifically masculine swagger that lacks self-consciousness. Think Bruce Willis, or Eddie Murphy (in the ’80s), complete with a hint of wildness that is almost always exciting to viewers. Yet a certain self-aware drollness lurks in the background of Olyphant’s voice, an Easter egg that rewards whoever spots and responds to it. It is sexiness as fact, which is probably why he was cast as Sam, Carrie Bradshaw’s twentysomething lover, in an episode from the first season of Sex and the City.”

— I wrote about Timothy Olyphant, that shark-wolf-hot-dude hybrid, and how in the second act of his career casting directors should move him away from the obvious roles as lawmen – and firmly into comedy.

“Are you saying we’re alike?”

Dazai is a strange character, very strange and a puzzle, oh a lovely puzzle and there’s nothing I enjoy more than difficult, fragile puzzles. People are puzzles, nothing more and nothing less, they are full of sins and secrets and abilities that are so easy to find once you’ve solved their fragile minds. Most people don’t even realise how easy they are to pick apart, the business men and the housewives, the ruthless attorneys and corrupt lawmen. A good man will kill you in cold blood and break, a bad man will kill you with a hitch in his throat and smile, an evil man will kill you without a thought and leave.

Ability users are no different, they are full of the darkest sins and they are the easiest puzzles. Chuuya, the gravity manipulator, why he simply wants something familiar back in his life of crime and dark excess. Kunikida is a sad one, wanting the world to be a good place, a happy place while he deals with criminals and killers. All of them are so easy, even their leaders, especially their leaders?

“We are, you know that.”

Dazai though, hmm, he’s different from the rest of the flock, a wolf in sheep’s clothing but twice as cruel. Wolves kill because they are hungry, they kill because they were threatened, sometimes they kill for sport and game but humans are worse. Dazai is a human wolf and a strange piece on the board; the rest of them play checkers, Dazai plays chess and he is a Bishop. How fitting that this human wolf possesses an ability like No Longer Human, as though he ever truly was, incredible.

This one, he kills because he can, he has the capability and the drive to kill and make it hurt, make it sting. Torture is one of his talents and I’ve heard so much about all of his talents. Sometimes I wonder how many of these idiots realise his suicide attempts aren’t even attempts. Double Suicide to mirror his broken Double Black? Who does he think he’s fooling?

“Well all of them obviously.”

They all believe those attempts to be true, as though someone as capable as Dazai wouldn’t have offed himself by now if he so pleased. They all buy into his lies and manipulations and disguises and it’s almost funny, almost sends me into hysteric glee. They’re all idiots; they’re all stupid, stupid people who can’t see two steps ahead of themselves much less their opponents. Perhaps it’s cheating to be playing against such dim-witted sinners but fair play has never been my strong suit.

“It’s what I would have done, he says. It’s not how I would have done it, he doesn’t say.”

Oh Dazai would never have done it this way, he isn’t doing it this way. We’ve known each other for a long time, the two of us with our like-minded ways and touchingly similar abilities. He’s always known someone would come for the mafia, knew that somewhere out there was someone willing to do the work of taking down all of the executives and he’s always known he could stay two steps ahead of them. Or he believed at least. Perhaps he even guessed it would have been me, perhaps he guessed I would choose manipulation and assassination and poisons.

Fair’s fair though, I always thought he would figure it out first, try to stop me maybe, let me do as I pleased perhaps. I never would have thought he would leave the mafia but no one can ever truly know what that human wolf thinks, especially in the heat of the moment when he’s promising something to his only friend. All the same, his part in this game is the same, he wants to be the Bishop? Well I’ll let him play the Bishop to perfection and when the time comes, he’ll fall the same as all the rest of these pawns.

Imagine Neal Working to Bring You Out of Your Shell

Originally posted by netflixlifex

           Neal Caffrey was everything you weren’t. He was bold, he was outgoing, and he happily made friends. He didn’t want his friendships and alliances to extend only as far as the limits of Federal Plaza. Though you admired how he used both words and actions expertly, you had no idea what to do when he started to direct them towards you.

            “Y/N!” Neal gave you a huge grin as he came up next to you. You had a binder in one hand and you were making photocopies with the other, standing in the corner of the room by the large printing machine. “We haven’t gotten to talk in a few days.”

            Talking was a bit of an overstatement. Your discussions mostly consisted of Neal talking at you and you replying with as little as possible to remain polite. You didn’t know what you were supposed to say.

             “It was the weekend,” you pointed out with a small, polite smile, turning back to the photocopier. You did notice that Neal wasn’t holding anything. There were no other messages coming through on the printer’s screen. He wasn’t there to get something; he was just there because you were. “I don’t work weekends.”

            “Really? You mean it’s just me?” Neal pushed his hands into his pockets, leaned on the wall, and sighed. “Be glad Peter doesn’t have you on one of these things.” He pushed his left leg out to indicate the anklet. “He’s such a slave driver.” Then, to show he didn’t really mind, he flashed you a smile, all blue eyes and cute dimples.

            You hummed awkwardly, unsure what else to say. Stating that Peter was your boss, too, but he let you have the weekends might have been insensitive. It would just drive it in deeper that Neal was treated differently. Agreeing with him that your boss was a workaholic probably wasn’t the best move, either.

            “So, how are you?” He asked after a few seconds, not giving up. “Did you do anything interesting over the weekend?”

            You shook your head. “No, not particularly.” Unless he counted laundry and grocery shopping interesting, but you guessed a career criminal would find both of those to be inane.

            “You mean a beautiful girl like you stayed home on the weekend?” Neal pressed, surprised. “You don’t have anyone to keep company with?”

            You blushed and finished with the photocopier, sending the electronic files to Peter’s email. You usually kind of faded into the background when you were with your friends. You were okay with that, but it was more than nice to hear someone give you a compliment, and coming from Neal, of all people, made it feel that much better. He was the kind of man you expected to see with the most gorgeous women in the city.

            When you turned off the machine, Neal was still there. His smile seemed honest and open. You knew better than to fully trust it, but you couldn’t help but feel a little bit comforted. “I know talking’s not really your thing, but do you mind if I walk back up with you? I can talk, and if you ever want to join in…” He trailed off, watching you for your reaction hopefully.

            You shifted how you held your binder and nodded hesitantly. “I’d like that,” you offered. The answering glow in his eyes made you feel warm and important.

            You still didn’t know exactly what you were supposed to do with his attention, but you realized that maybe the reason he kept coming to you in particular was because he wanted to know he had yours.


Send in requests!

anonymous asked:

Okay, so kids can be reeeeeally too curious for their own good, so I can imagine them one day just. Walking up to one of the Sanses and pulling up their shirt. They don't do this to a Papyrus because they're too tall to reach. XD

Too cute an idea not to do headcanons for. Sorry if I went a little angsty for some of them. 

UT!Sans: He’s just minding his own business, trying to get the damn registrar in order. Normally Boss does this but Edge is trying to get the other’s to “take responsibility” or something. In his view the one doing the paperwork should be the one who knows what the hell they’re doing, but then Boss isn’t exactly in the business of asking for other people’s opinions. 

As usual a couple of the kids are coming and going. He has a pretty open door policy on his office and a lot of them like to come mess around with some of his more child-friendly science equipment. Currently, its Melody, sitting quietly and playing with the Newton Cradle. 

Finally he gets into a rhythym, absorbed in his work. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Melody get up and move behind him, but he’s not worried. There’s nothing dangerous in his office, he’s made sure of it. And his attentions a little too absorbed at the moment…..

A sudden tug on his shirt and WOAH  is it drafty in here or is it just him?

Melody has his shirt almost over his head and is staring curiously at his ribcage. Sans chuckles nervously. “Uh, heh…not gonna lie, kid, that took a lot of spine.”

Melody gives him a disgusted look and drops his shirt.

“Aw, come on, that was a real rib-tickler”

“I’m leaving.” Melody said rolling her eyes and walking out. A second apssed, and she stuck her head in the doorway again. “And I’m not coming back!”

Sans chuckled to himself and got back to work.

UF!Sans: Red grumbles to himself as he walked around. Okay, he’s always doing that, but this particular hour of the day made it more audible than not. Recess, a full hour of the little fuckers running around in every direction. It had been someone’s bright idea to stick him with near permanent monitor duty of this, the idea being that he had faster instincts than most of them, he would be able to get there fast if someone was about to hurt themselves. It was, he had informed them, not that hard. All it required was you had to remove your head from your own fucking pelvis, and you’d be set to stop the little idiots from throwing themselves off the building.

Blue and Papyrus weren’t thrilled. And it didn’t matter in the end. So here he was, prowling the edge of the yard, trying to prevent snotnoses from getting cuts and bruises. Leeroy, as always, followed him like a shadow. A shadow that talked too much. 

“Hey! Hey, Red, can I see your rib cage?”

“No.” 

”Whhhyyyyyy?!”

“Cause I said so, that’s why.” His eyes were trained on Yoshi. The little klutz was insisting on climbing one of the jungle gyms. Undyne also had her eye on it, but if the fish couldn’t get there in time he’d have to use his magic.

“But I wannaaaaa”

“Tough shit” Red muttered. But faster than he could blnk the kid was in front of him and jerking his shirt over his head.

Panic.

The reaction is instantaneous. His eye lights up with magic and he practically jumps away while shoving the kid off. Harder than he would have meant to in any other situation. Leeroy yells in surprise and looks at him with wide, slightly scared eyes while Red breathes hard trying to get a handle on himself. His hands are shaking and he can’t get the glow in his eye to fade.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“I….I-”

“Don’t do shit like that!” He’s yelling now, and other eyes are on them. Undyne seems pissed at first but it changes to a look of concern when she sees how bad he looks.

“I…..I’m sorry.”

The anger hollows him out and he’s doing his best to convince himself that its different, he’s not in danger, it was just a fucking kid., but his body doesn’t know that, it just knows for a brief moment it was exposed. In the end he mutters “its fine” and stalks off. Undyne has Sans cover his shift, and nobody says anything about it. For once even Boss doesn’t chew him out for walking out. 

Leeroy walks on eggshells around him for a few weeks, and Red finds a hand-written, poorly spelled apology note in his office. 

US!Sans: “Woah, Undyne!” Bryn said, mouth open and eyes staring in awe.”That so many muscles!”

“Fuhuhu! Of course!” Undyne grinned, hands planted firmly on her hips as her crop-top showed her eight-pack in its full glory. “I’d have to after all the training I do!” She flexed on of her powerful biceps and kissed it while the kids stared at her in awe.

“OF COURSE!” Blue piped in. “ITS A VERY NATURAL RESULT! OUR ALPHYS AND I HAVE ONES TOO!”

“Pfft, wha? Alph I’ll believe, but you do not have an eight-pack, dude.”

“I DO TOO!”

The kids looked confused. “But….you’re a skeleton.” Yoshi said. 

“THAT….THAT DOESN’T MATTER!” Blue said, but there was a faint cyan tinge that betrayed the bluff.

“Well, let’s see then!” Bryn said, hiking his shirt over his head before he could say a word. 

“That’s just an rib cage!” Leeroy said.

There was a blue glow of his magic and an ecto-stomach formed, eight-pack in place.

Melody huffed. “Magic tummies don’t count.”

Blue yanked his shirt out of Bryn’s hands, blushing. “ITS RUDE TO LIT UP A SKELETON’S SHIRT WITHOUT PERMISSION!”

Undyne took pity on the skeleton. “Eh, sure they count. Alright, let’s play some soccer!”

SF!Sans: Billie knew that if he was going to continue to be the rival of the Bratlord, he would require some intel. Chandler had told him once about this famous quote: “If you know the enemy and you know yourself, you need not fear the results of a hundred battles”. Well, he was pretty sure he knew himself, so all that was left was his enemy. 

He had been sneaking around Rasp for almost the entirety of freetime, watching him carefully for any weaknesses. He wasn’t sure what kind of weaknesses, but there had to be something. 

In the end, though, he was starting to get impatient. Bratlord didn’t have any soft fleshy bits that he could hit when they fought. Just hard bones that hurt Billie’s hand. Not that he would admit it. Superheroes and lawmen didn’t get hurt. Especially not by their worst enemies. 

Suddenly he remember last wekk, when Blue summoned a magic stomach on the soccerfield. Was it possible that Rasp had one too? That would make it a lot easier to fight him……Only one way to be sure. He waited until Rasp was distracted by something, and then ran up to him, yanking his shirt up over his head. 

Nothing. Just an empty rib cage. Billie huffed in disapointment an let teh shirt fall. 

The second he did he realized Rasps eyelights had vanished and he had frozen. Before he could say anything though, they cam back and he was immediately bak to posturing. “TRYING TO EXAMINE ME FOR WEAKNESSES? I CAN’T SAY I BLAME YOU, MY RIVAL, BUT YOU’LL FIND YOURSELF WOEFULLY DISAPPOINTED. I HAVE NONE!” Despite the usual arrogant tone, there was a quaver to his voice and  Billie noticed his hands were shaking slightly.

Rasp caught him staring at his hands and so clasped them behind his back.” I-I THINK I HEAR BLUE CALLING FOR HELP” and he scampered off. 

Syrup explained it to him later. A skeleton’s SOUL is in his ribcage, and its a remarkably unprotected area. All someone would have to do  was reach up the cavity and they would have a hold of it, and would be able to kill them. This had happened to him and Rasp more than once Underground, and they were pretty naturally defensive about their rib cages being uncovered. 

Billie never apologizes, per se, but he never tries to reach under the shirt again. He will even stop their “battles” in the middle if Bratlord’s shirt flies up and won’t start again until he can cover himself. Its a little embarrassing for Rasp but in a way he appreciates the child’s sense of honor. 

“Why make such a big deal about whitewashing?”

I know. It’s hard to rebuke something you really enjoy, like Fantastic Beasts, a story that reimagined Harlem, NY as minority Black in the 1920s. But it’s not really causing harm, right?

Tell that to Bass Reeves. (Or, you know, his ghost).

Bass Reeves was an Oklahoma lawman in The Old West. Born into slavery, he grew up into a legendary American hero, like Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett.

Except, oh wait, unless you’re an avid watcher of Drunk History, he’s probably not anywhere near the household name Boone and Crockett are.

There is controversy over whether Reeves was the true inspiration for The Lone Ranger. The Lone Ranger, they argue, was always imagined as a white man. Of course he was! That doesn’t change the fact that historically, if you look at all the Old West lawmen, the one who comes closest to the fictional Lone Ranger is Bass Reeves. It doesn’t matter that the Lone Ranger was created as a white character with no nod to Reeves – The Lone Ranger is effectively erasure.

And it’s not just something backward ‘50s people did. The 2013 Lone Ranger movie did it, too.

But wait, you say – if The Lone Ranger was always white in popular media, it’s not whitewashing to portray him white like in the traditional stories!

Except it is. Here’s why.

When popular media decides that the greatest lawman of the Old West was a white man when, in reality, the man closest to the fictional hero was Black, it amounts to historical revisionism. Especially since Bass Reeves himself isn’t as well known as Crockett, Boone, or even Paddy Garrett. 

Think about how different things would be if the Lone Ranger had been Black from the start. It’s historically accurate, after all, it’s not “political correctness.” Kids going back to the early 20th Century looking up to a Black Old West hero? It’s unimaginable, but it would have been based more in reality. 

Instead, kids were given the illusion of an all-white “good guys” Old West. Not just white kids, Black kids were told that, too. 

Don’t tell me that’s not a big deal.

10 Things You May Not Know About Bonnie and Clyde

1. Bonnie died wearing a wedding ring—but it wasn’t Clyde’s.
Six days before turning 16, Bonnie married high school classmate Roy Thornton. The marriage disintegrated within months, and Bonnie never again saw her husband after he was imprisoned for robbery in 1929. Soon after, Bonnie met Clyde, and although the pair fell in love, she never divorced Thornton. On the day Bonnie and Clyde were killed in 1934, she was still wearing Thornton’s wedding ring and had a tattoo on the inside of her right thigh with two interconnected hearts labeled “Bonnie” and “Roy.”

2. Bonnie wrote poetry.
During her school days, Bonnie excelled at creative writing and penning verses. While she was imprisoned in 1932 after a failed hardware store burglary, she penned a collection of 10 odes that she entitled “Poetry from Life’s Other Side,” which included “The Story of Suicide Sal,” a poem about an innocent country girl lured by her boyfriend into a life a crime. Two weeks before her death, Bonnie gave a prescient poem to her mother entitled “The Trail’s End” that finished with the verse:

Some day they’ll go down together;
And they’ll bury them side by side,
To a few it’ll be grief—
To the law a relief—
But it’s death for Bonnie and Clyde.

3. The Navy rejected Clyde.
As a teenager, Clyde attempted to enlist in the U.S. Navy, but lingering effects from a serious boyhood illness, possibly malaria or yellow fever, resulted in his medical rejection. It was a hard blow for Clyde, who had already tattooed “USN” on his left arm.

4. Clyde’s first arrest came from failing to return a rental car.
The notorious criminal was first arrested in 1926 for automobile theft after failing to return a car he had rented in Dallas to visit an estranged high school girlfriend. The rental car agency dropped the charges, but the incident remained on Clyde’s arrest record. Just three weeks later, he was arrested again alongside his older brother Ivan “Buck” Barrow for an even more farcical crime—possession of a truckload of stolen turkeys.

5. Bank robberies were not their specialties.
Although often depicted as Depression-era Robin Hoods who stole from rich and powerful financial institutions, Bonnie and Clyde staged far more robberies of mom-and-pop gas stations and grocery stores than bank heists. Oftentimes, their loot amounted to only $5 or $10.

6. Clyde chopped off two of his toes in prison.
While serving a 14-year sentence in Texas for robbery and automobile theft in January 1932, Clyde decided he could no longer endure the unforgiving work and brutal conditions at the notoriously tough Eastham Prison Farm. In the hopes of forcing a transfer to a less harsh facility, Clyde severed his left big toe and a portion of a second toe with an axe, although it is not known whether he or another prisoner wielded the sharp instrument. The self-mutilation, which permanently crippled his walking stride and prevented him from wearing shoes while driving, ultimately proved unnecessary as he was released on parole six days later.

7. A car accident impaired Bonnie’s walking.
On the night of June 10, 1933, Clyde, with Bonnie in the passenger seat, was speeding along the rural roads of north Texas so quickly that he missed a detour sign warning of a bridge under construction. The duo’s Ford V-8 smashed through a barricade at 70 miles per hour and sailed through the air before landing in a dry riverbed. Scalding acid poured out of the smashed car battery and severely burned Bonnie’s right leg, eating away at her flesh down to the bone in some places. As a result of the third-degree burns, Bonnie, like Clyde, walked with a pronounced limp for the rest of her life, and she had such difficulty walking that at times she hopped or needed Clyde to carry her.

8. Souvenir hunters tried to cut off parts of Bonnie and Clyde at the scene of their deaths.
On May 23, 1934, a six-man posse led by former Texas Ranger captain Frank Hamer ambushed Bonnie and Clyde and pumped more than 130 rounds of steel-jacketed bullets into their stolen Ford V-8 outside Sailes, Louisiana. With acrid gunsmoke still lingering in the air, gawkers descended upon the ambush site and attempted to leave with macabre souvenirs from the bodies of the outlaws still slumped in the front seat. According to Jeff Guinn’s book “Go Down Together,” one man tried to cut off Clyde’s ear with a pocket knife and another attempted to sever his trigger finger before the lawmen intervened. One person in the throng however managed to clip locks of Bonnie’s hair and swathes of her blood-soaked dress.

9. Their bullet-riddled “death car” is on display at a casino.
Following the ambush of Bonnie and Clyde, a Louisiana sheriff who was a member of Hamer’s six-man posse claimed the pockmarked Ford V-8 sedan, still coated with the outlaws’ blood and tissue. A federal judge, however, ruled that the automobile stolen by Bonnie and Clyde should return to its former owner, Ruth Warren of Topeka, Kansas. Warren leased and eventually sold the car to Charles Stanley, an anti-crime lecturer who toured fairgrounds with the “death car” and the mothers of Bonnie and Clyde in tow as sideshow attractions. Still speckled with bullet holes, the “death car” is now an attraction in the lobby of Whiskey Pete’s Casino in Primm, Nevada, a small resort town on the California border 40 miles south of Las Vegas.

10. Bonnie and Clyde were buried separately.
Although linked in life, Bonnie and Clyde were split in death. While the pair wished to be buried side-by-side, Bonnie’s mother, who had disapproved of her relationship with Clyde, had her daughter buried in a separate Dallas cemetery. Clyde was buried next to his brother Marvin underneath a gravestone with his hand-picked epitaph: “Gone but not forgotten.”

Park Ranger warning you to stay safe and leave your flashlights at home.

(warning: long story)

I’ve been a national park ranger for close to two decades. Protocols have changed a lot in that time. I write this just to try to keep people safe for the next time you venture to the big outdoors.

Let me tell you about the last park I worked. I can’t be too specific about the location for my job’s sake. Anyway we had clusters of campsites that we rotated annually. The idea was to prevent one group from getting overused and worn down, let nature regrow a little bit. The winter had just passed, and our big summer season was a few months away. I’m sent out to check the suitability of the campsites to decide which ones need time to recover, and which ones we can open up.

Winters here are cold. Not too many people camp during the winter aside from rugged masochists and Boy Scout troops lead by people who believe they are rugged masochists. I didn’t expect to find much out of the ordinary. The first site was clear and ready to go. As I’m trekking to the next site, I see what looks like some debris and junk down a ways in a river valley. Looks like some jackasses set up an unauthorized camp down there. Usually when that happens, they leave garbage and smoldering fires. This is going to be a pain to clear up.

Keep reading

Being Neal's Shy Significant Other Would Include...


Not many people know about your relationship, because Neal doesn’t want people to start bothering you about him.

            It was never a big deal when you came by the office, but it didn’t happen often. Usually, it was because you were bringing something for Neal. You liked to surprise him – you liked how his eyes lit up. It made you feel nice to know that you made his work a little less monotonous sometimes.

Keep reading

npr.org
In The 1920s, A Community Conspired To Kill Native Americans For Their Oil Money
The Osage tribe in Oklahoma became spectacularly wealthy in the early 1900s — and then members started turning up dead. David Grann's Killers of the Flower Moon describes the dark plot against them.

In his new book, Killers of the Flower Moon, David Grann describes how white people in the area conspired to kill Osage members in order steal their oil wealth, which could only be passed on through inheritance. “This was a culture of complicity,” he says, “and it was allowed to go on for so long because so many people were part of the plot. You had lawmen, you had prosecutors, you had the reporters who wouldn’t cover it. You had oilmen who wouldn’t speak out. You had morticians who would cover up the murders when they buried the body. You had doctors who helped give poison to people.”

Imagine Giving Neal an Ultimatum

Follow-up to Imagine Confronting Neal About His Constant Flirting and Imagine Sara Telling You to Give Neal an Ultimatum, in that order.

            “You have to choose,” you said to him abruptly, feeling your eyes stinging. Neal’s already tentative smile faltered, his mouth frowning. “You can’t keep stringing me along like this.” Without Sara’s advice, you knew you wouldn’t have the courage to say the things you were saying. Maybe Neal needed to hear them. “I know I’m the one you’re actually calling back and going out with, and I’ve tried to be okay with this, but I’m not. If it’s for work…”

            You faltered. It had occurred to you that Neal often flirted with suspects and marks to get information or evidence. You tried not to think about it too often, but you knew you couldn’t just tell him to stop flirting when the situation called for it. There were probably times when endearing himself to the right people had been the only thing that kept him alive.

            You found your voice again. Neal had waited patiently, attentively, a quirk to his mouth that seemed unhappy but still letting you speak and say what you needed to tell him. You fidgeted, playing with your hands.

            “If it’s for work, then for God’s sake, go ahead. It’s not worth being hurt or incarcerated over.” And, though you didn’t talk about it, you knew that if Neal lost too many cases, he’d be imprisoned again. “But when you’re with me, I need you to be with me.”

            Still distracting yourself with your hands, you shifted your weight from foot to foot. Uncomfortably, you held your hands out, letting Neal know that you were done and it was his turn to speak. You’d always prided yourself on being able to talk to your boyfriend when you had issues, but more and more so, he was the issue, and you didn’t know how to start a dialogue when he was the problem.

            Neal sat down slowly on the stone bench in the plaza. He reached to his side and touched the seat next to him, patting in invitation. You quickly threw yourself down, bending your neck to stare at your lap while you felt a miserable heat rise up your throat.

            “I’m so sorry,” you told him wretchedly, picking your hands up and rubbing the heels of your palms against your eyes. “I hate doing this. I sound like I’m trying to control you. I don’t want to be that person, but-“

            “Y/N,” Neal interrupted you, his voice soft, gentle, and serene. “Darling, look at me.”

            You couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it, but you sniffed and covered your eyes with a hand, embarrassed about crying. It seemed like you cried more easily than you ever had before – another sign, according to Sara, that your relationship needed to change.

            When you just shook your head and kept staring down to your thighs, Neal drew his right leg up onto the bench as he turned to face you. With the gentlest touch, he cupped your chin in his hand and pulled your face up so that he could see your expression. His other hand took yours by the wrist and lowered it from in front of your eyes.

            “Y/N,” he said your name again. “You’re not controlling anything. We’re very different people; we’re going to have to compromise sometimes. If this is something you need to be happy, then I can oblige.” He leaned in and pressed his dry lips to your cheek before sitting back and rubbing the dampness off of your face with his thumbs. “Besides,” he added with a wry, slightly self-deprecating tone. “When my girlfriend starts crying and yelling at me on our date, I’m probably doing something very, very wrong.”


Send in requests!

Aladdin Lyric Meme
  • "Oh I come from a land, from a faraway place."
  • "It's flat and immense and the heat is intense."
  • "It's barbaric, but hey, it's home."
  • "A fool off his guard could fall and fall hard out there on the dunes."
  • "Gotta keep one jump ahead of the breadline."
  • "I steal only what I can't afford. That's everything!"
  • "One jump ahead of the lawmen."
  • "He's become a one man rise in crime."
  • "I'd blame parents except he hasn't got 'em."
  • "Gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat. Tell you all about it when I got the time."
  • "Let's not be too hasty."
  • "One trick ahead of disaster."
  • "They're quick, but I'm much faster."
  • "Riff raff, street rat, I don't buy that."
  • "If only they'd look closer."
  • "They'd find out there's so much more to me."
  • "You're in luck cuz up your sleeves you got a brand of magic never failt."
  • "You got some power in your corner now."
  • "What will your pleasure be?"
  • "You ain't never had a friend like me."
  • "Come on, whisper what it is you want."
  • "I'm in the mood to help you, dude."
  • "Can your friends do this?"
  • "Can your friends do that?"
  • "So don't sit there slack jawed, buggy eyed."
  • "I'm here to answer all your midnight prayers."
  • "Have a wish or two or three."
  • "It's a bright new star."
  • "Oh come! Be the first on your block to meet his eye."
  • "You're gonna love this guy."
  • "Genuflect. Show some respect, down on one knee."
  • "Now try your best to stay calm."
  • "Strong as ten regular men, definitely."
  • "He faced the galloping hordes!"
  • "Who sent those goons to their lords?"
  • "That physique! How can I speak weak at the knee."
  • "Heard your princess was a sight, lovely to see."
  • "That, good people, is why he got dolled up and dropped by."
  • "I can show you the world shining, shimmering, splendid."
  • "Tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?"
  • "I can open your eyes. Take you wonder by wonder."
  • "A whole new world. A new fantastic point of view."
  • "No one to tell us no or where to go or say we're only dreaming."
  • "Now from way up here it's crystal clear that now I'm in a whole new world with you."
  • "Don't you dare close your eyes. A hundred thousand things to see."
  • "Hold your breath, it gets better."
  • "I've some so far. I can't go back to where I used to be."
  • "Let me share this whole new world with you."
  • "Read my lips and come to grins with reality."
  • "Meet a blast from your past whose lies were too good to last."