#Transporting Cadavers

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — One

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none for this chapter, just Tom being grumpy and hating the world

— WORDCOUNT: 3k

— A/N: This is a fic that was commissioned by @localravenclaw as a gift for @esolean 💕 It's going to be a bit of a rollercoaster, with angst and fluff and smut galore. I plan to post twice a week, Mondays and Fridays. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope you will have fun reading it, my dears! 💚

I

Tom was twenty-five. It had been seven years since he graduated from Hogwarts, and just as many since he started working at Borgin and Burkes. Now, he found himself in a sweltering place with the world passing him by. Trapped, for his sins, in a moving metal coffin. If this was hell, it looked like rolling hills, houses nestled in the fog, narrow rows of poplars and puffs of grazing sheep, all set to the tune of clinking chains and carriage shuffles. He hated this assignment.

After taking the train from London to Dover, he caught the ferry that sailed to Calais, and from there took a series of coaches and trains meant to take him on to Italy. To Rome. They had just stopped in Lyon to pick up more passengers, and now they were on their way again.

He had fought with Burke regarding the logistics of the whole thing. Why couldn’t he just use Floo like a normal wizard? But the miserable old stoat said he’d sooner trust muggle transportation than Tom’s pronunciation of Italian or French — and besides, was Floo even networked all the way down there? It didn’t matter anymore.

Tom was convinced it was all done to save costs, and perhaps for Burke to not have to call in any favours. So off he went with one measly suitcase and two billfolds of franks and lira — all of which were merely enchanted oak leaves. They would inevitably transfigure back to their original form in a couple of weeks or so, but by then Tom should be long gone. Who said money didn’t grow on trees?

He tried to distract himself from all this misery by checking his notes again. His little book cracked open, snapping at the spine, and its insides were revealed to him like a cadaver cut through with a black spidery scrawl. It was a list of books and authors, with observations added vertically on the side to save space.

“The Secrets of Wisdom, N. Tamisso 1650 — high priority, any edition. The Lost Word, B. Trevisan 1661 — low priority, optional. Delomelanicon (or The Invocation of Darkness), A. Torchia 1666 — first edition, mandatory.” The latter word was underlined three times. His notes continued with the instructions Burke had given. “Check the rare book dealers, antiquaries, private collectors if necessary. If you can not find it, find out who can. If they will not sell it, take it anyway.”

Tom’s lip curled. Whatever joy there was in being away from the squalor of Knockturn Alley was soiled by what he had to do in Rome. It wasn’t the books he minded, and in fact, he quite admired Burke’s taste in this matter. But to be flung so far away from home on such short notice, and for such a length of time, was pitiful to him. The heir of Slytherin turned errand boy…

“Excuse-moi, est-ce que — Oh, bonjour.”

Tom turned his frown toward the sliding doors of the compartment, between which stood a young man in his twenties. Lanky brown locks fell into his eyes veiling the crinkles of a smile.

“Yes?” sighed Tom.

“I was wondering if this was free,” said the boy. And without waiting for an answer, he dragged his luggage inside — three suitcases, all leather with copper fittings looking ready to burst — and closed the doors behind him.

“I suppose it is,” mumbled Tom. He subtly closed his notebook and tucked it back into the messenger bag at his feet while he kept track of the stranger from the corner of his eyes.

The fine quality of the newcomer’s clothes was somewhat disguised by how carelessly they hung around him. His white and starched shirt was loosened at the top, revealing a hint of tanned skin sprinkled with sparse curls. A golden pin kept a red and blue striped tie affixed to it, and around his pinky finger was a silver ring thickly laid with marcasites and crowned with a malachite stone. His lips were full and purple-stained from wine. His eyes were a bright blue. Judging by his pressed trousers and clean leather shoes, he was a gentleman who had arrived at the station by car — or, at least, he was the spoilt brat of one.

“Clement,” the boy grinned, extending his hand.

“Tom,” he replied, giving him a firm, brief shake.

“I’m on my way to Rome!” Clement sighed, plopping down onto the seat opposite him. Almost immediately, he cracked open a cigarette case and started fishing for a lighter in his trouser pocket. His luggage lay strewn all around the floor, suitcases filled with junk, no doubt. “You?”

“The same,” Tom said and instantly regretted sharing anything at all. With people like these — the overly friendly types — it was best to not encourage conversation.

“Oh, magnificent. Vacation?”

“Work.”

“How sad,” tutted Clement as he popped a cigarette between his lips. He offered one to Tom as well.

“Don’t smoke.”

“Ah.”

He closed the case with a loud click and set it on the table between them. With a smooth, almost theatrical motion, he lit up his pocket lighter — silver, older than him, probably an heirloom, engraved with an elaborate floral motif featuring a fleur-de-lis — and let the flame dance on the tip of his cigarette until he was satisfied.

“Don’t talk much, either,” the boy chuckled. He kept his eyes on Tom as he took a drag, then started puffing away without a care. He attempted to blow rings of smoke but failed. “What do you use your mouth for, then?”

“Cursing, mostly.”

Clement laughed. “The same!”

Tom doubted it.

The compartment soon filled with smoke, and the narrow window open at the top only made it dance around inside. The muggy summer fumes were driving Tom to madness already, and he could only hope the train moved fast enough to clear the air. But as they went further into the rural parts of France, the scent of sheep took over. Maybe it’s not too late to try to Apparate directly at the station, he thought.

“So, what do you do?” asked the French boy, vowels gliding altogether in one breath between his lips. His arm extended elegantly to tap the ash into a cheap tray by the window.

It took Tom a moment to look at him and answer. “I’m in, er, publishing.”

“Truly?” he said, excited enough to lean over the table. “That’s magnificent. I intend to be published too.”

“Oh? What do you write?”

“Poesies.”

“Poetry? Ah, not my area, I’m afraid.”

“But you must know some people…”

Tom wanted to tell him that if he were any good he’d have found a publisher already, but intuition told him to temper himself.

“I might,” he said, “but I’m afraid I’m full up at the moment.”

The boy puffed away nervously as he tapped the round gemstone of his ring against the window, and kept his eyes on him. Tom turned to watch the view rolling past them, seeing without seeing. The sensation of being watched was as familiar as it was discomforting. It crawled down his thin cheeks, his narrow neck, and from there sank into his clothes like sweat. He gazed briefly at the tapping ring from the corner of his eyes in irritation, before focusing away again. For a few moments, he thought he’d successfully ended their conversation.

“Well, I’m in show business,” Clement said instead, grinning brilliantly. There was a gap between his first incisors that made him look boyish and pure. “Theatre.”

“Your parents must be very happy.”

“No,” he laughed. “Miserable. But,” he shrugged, “it is not their decision.”

Tom hummed and said nothing else.

“Your parents are happy with your job, no? You go on important business trips to France, to Rome, and… erm. Well, it is a good job, for sure. Makes them proud, yes?”

Whatever sunshine beamed through the window was chilled and clouded by the glare in Tom’s dark eyes. Why did this bothersome Frenchman have to talk to him? He wasn’t going to keep doing it the whole way to Rome, surely…

“I wouldn’t know,” he finally said. “They’re dead.”

“Oh… Oh, I am so sorry...”

“I’m not,” he mumbled. He didn’t think Clement had heard him, but he wouldn’t care even if he did.

The boy pulled the ashtray closer and put out his cigarette, then leaned his head against the glass. Fidgeting, he held the silver case in his hands and clicked it open and closed, open and closed… He did that for quite a while.

Tom could feel him staring. Could even sense to some extent the messy thoughts inside that head: curiosity, intrigue, and joy.

What could be joyful about that moment?

Well, if Tom was being honest, this wasn’t the first time he’d had such an effect on people. Memories of Burke’s clients came back to him accompanied by the customary shiver down his spine. Clement had the same flippant merriment about him that all the others did, those careless old witches and wizards. That unguarded look of innocence surrounded by the fog of greed. An airy absence of thought and feeling. Must’ve been the side effect of all that money.

Tom had once envied such people. Had even flattered himself with the knowledge that he, however distantly, was one of them. What greater destiny than to be born to glorious old blood? What greater tragedy than to be fallen from it…? He could even remember, with much clarity and shame, how he’d spent several months during his third year obsessing over the Gaunts and Riddles, chasing up on genealogies, and smattering the back pages of his diary with heraldic designs.

But the more he understood the upper classes — their uselessness, their inborn idiocy, their paradoxical sense of superiority which stood impervious to anything reality threw at them — the more he grew to hate them.

“I am sorry if I offended…” said Clement rather softly. “Sometimes, I talk too much.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t notice.”

“No, but I do, I do…”

Tom had overshot his subtleties, apparently.

“So you are not happy with your job? Forgive me for asking…”

“No, it’s quite alright.”

“A pity, you know…”

“Why?”

“To not like it.”

“Oh, it’s not too much trouble most of the time. Why? Do you like your job?”

“But of course!” he said, blue eyes twinkling.

Tom cast a scathing look his way. How strange… He couldn’t imagine enjoying any form of employment — other than the coveted post of DADA professor at Hogwarts.

“Why are you in Rome, then?” Tom asked.

“On vacation. I am, erm, meeting a friend,” he whispered with a grin.

“A girlfriend?” asked Tom with a smirk.

Clement shook his head and giggled. “A boy friend.”

Tom’s brows nearly reached his hairline. He’d never heard of such things being bandied about quite that openly before, at least not in England. Clement seemed not to care. Must’ve been a habit of his, as he seemed to not care about much at all other than enjoying life.

“You have a fun vacation ahead of you, then.”

“More than you know,” he winked.

Tom curled his nose at that and sat back, away from the whole conversation. But Clement leaned closer, arms braced over the table lazily, eyes flashing excitedly.

“We will rob this old fool, and run with his money.”

That captured Tom’s attention again. The boy was waiting eagerly for his reaction, and not a thought ran through his head that Tom might’ve been untrustworthy. Of course, far be it from him to ruin someone else’s fun, but the scenario Clement proposed was too absurd to be believed.

So what else could Tom do but laugh? The sound of it filled the cabin, and so out of use were those muscles that his cheeks began to ache. The sight of it seemed to delight young Clement. He leaned back and gave another one of his brilliant smiles.

“You can join us, if you like,” he offered smoothly.

“Sorry,” said Tom, his cheeks still flushed. “My schedule is full.”

“Oh, pity, pity… You would like my friend, I think. His name is Donatien. He is more serious, like you.”

“Is that so,” said Tom distractedly.

“By the way, what is your hotel?”

II

They entered Rome on a train that ran six hours late, and wobbled on its tracks, and stank of mouldy cheese and wine rust.

Clement talked most of the way there, and seemed to be satisfied with Tom mostly reacting with brief hums and tilted smiles. They even exchanged gifts. The French boy was enchanted by what was, in Tom’s estimation, a fairly average switchblade. He’d only taken it out to peel an orange. It was something he’d bought in London right before his seventh year, and although it was quite plain, it did have some delicate embellishments on its ivory handle of two writhing snakes. That seemed to appeal to Clement, who offered his own blade in exchange — a Swiss army knife that also had a screwdriver and bottle opener tucked in its red body. Considering it a more efficient deal, Tom shrugged and accepted the trade.

Faint details came up now and then about his plans with this Donatien, but most of it was lost in smoke and loud metallic rattles. As much as Tom hated flying on brooms, even he could agree it would’ve been preferable to this…

But at least he didn’t have to fear any Ministry or Aurors in these parts. Not any that were familiar with him, anyway. The Italians had their own Ministry of Magic, of course, but it was all the way down in Mirto, Sicily, and foreigners were a low priority for them. There were so many people from all over the world in Italy those days that it wasn’t worth keeping track of them all, or at least so Burke had told him.

The train slowed and pulled into the station, and pulled, and pulled… It groaned as if in pain. Clement took the jolt of inertia as it all came to a stop with cheerful clapping, and promptly got up to collect his bags.

“So, we are agreed?”

“Absolutely not agreed. Besides, I doubt my lodgings would be to your taste.”

“Ah Tom, you do not know my taste!”

“Very well, but best keep your complaints to a minimum once we get there.”

They struggled to get everything off the train with four suitcases between them. Tom was travelling light with just the one, about which Clement made some snide comment that he soon forgot, but he helped him anyway. His own belongings consisted of plain muggle clothes and some books that Burke wished him to barter with, if it came to that. Between the lines, and between Burke’s sparse and slimy brows, Tom understood he was expected to use his charms to get a bargain price — as per usual — but he did not intend to let some fat old antiquary put his grimy hands on him. Not this time. Besides, conversing with Clement had stained his dignity enough.

Being away on the continent had one advantage, at least: he was no longer under the vulturous watch of his employer.

Tom stepped out onto the platform, muscles sore from days of sitting down, and looked ahead as if he knew where he was going. People were chatting all around him, filling the cool hall with murmurs all the way up to its dome — some in German, some in French, others in variously accented English. Tom wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve and picked up his suitcase to follow Clement, who was hunting for a trolley to load his luggage onto.

As soon as they stepped out onto the street, the heat of Rome in August hit Tom in the face like an oven door and he, frail and pallid thing, was not prepared for it. He squinted in displeasure, to Clement’s great amusement.

“This way, Tom!” he said as he popped on a pair of sunglasses. “I see a taxi!”

Tom had spent most of the journey brushing up on his Italian with the help of a conversation guide he picked up at the Gare du Nord. His extensive knowledge of Latin came in pretty handy. But now that he saw Clement handle things, perhaps he needn’t have bothered. His companion could easily direct the driver to the dingy old hotel Tom was staying at, the Gallienus on Via Domenichino, and chatted a bit more besides.

“Vacation in Rome often, then?” he asked.

“I just know some phrases,” Clement smiled. “You don’t need much with these people.”

The driver pretended not to understand the slight.

“Where do you want to have lunch, then?” Clement asked.

“Lunch? I’m certainly not in the mood, not now.”

“Oh come ooon…”

“You can eat on your own.”

“We can leave our stuff and take the taxi to this place I know on Via della Mercede. They make the best seafood, the best!”

It had not been until now, with this journey to somewhere far away, that Tom realised how limited his world had been at Hogwarts. He’d once felt equal parts ashamed and at a strange advantage next to the other Slytherins, his peers, all purebloods, for knowing both the magical and muggle worlds. Now, exiled for this assignment among strangers, it seemed to Tom as if he were starting life all over again. He looked out the window and everything was new, everything was strange. The buildings, the street, the people, even the clothes were different. The city, like London, was massive, but the streets were broader, blazing white. Some disappeared into little alleyways that slithered like dark serpents. Tom could easily see himself getting lost in such a place.

It was… humbling. He didn’t like it.

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient #whew here we go 😭 #I dread to think of adapting the masterlist for this lol #I might make a separate post just for all of its chapters #there will be 40 in total

[kaboomthepossum]

Suddenly you are transported to a mystical realm and told you are the hero, destined to save it

You can choose one animal sidekick (or group of sidekicks if they are a group) from a TMG song

You must decide

The world depends on it

#the mountain goats #tmg #tmg posting #in league with dragons #possum by night #tmg lyrics #TMG songs #rats #you must choose #yes #animal companions #🐐 #the fact that 3 of the options are different rats is really really funny to me #🐀

[donnabenevientosimpingzone]

Professor Benevientos notes cuz I spent way too much time thinking about this AU

Donna

- sticks mostly with @shortstrawberry’s AU which originally inspired this

- Botanist and Toxicologist professor, teaches both undergrads and grads

- Still a doll maker that does it as a hobby, takes commissions at her own leisure online for extra cash

- In charge of the greenhouses, she designs the labs in there too

- She’s also conducting her own research in there for her PhD

- Is usually very on-top of students, she’ll reach out to students she notices not doing well in the class and do her best to assist in their success

- Surprisingly prefers teaching toxicology, but that’s mostly because she gets to work with Claudia for those lessons

- Workaholic, she’ll drown herself in grading papers or reading research papers and needs constant reminders to eat

- Most students are intimidated by her lol

Claudia

- Trauma surgeon and a licensed family doctor, she works these during weekends and holidays

- She teaches Anatomy and Physiology, as well as Biochemistry every other year

- Also an instructor in the organic chemistry labs if she can fit it in her schedule

- In charge of the cadaver labs

- Mostly teaches undergrads

- A pretty laid back professor, she definitely has the belief of “you’re paying for this, you’re choosing to be here, and you choose to do well or not”

- That doesn’t mean she’s an unfair professor. She is constantly reworking and reorganizing lessons and exams to make them as fair and educational as they can be

- Tells the best stories if class finishes early. She has the most students that remember her and bond with her out of the sisters

- Sews in her free time, loves making outfits when she can find the time

- Loves bothering the fuck out of her younger sister in staff rooms and meetings (Donna secretly loves it)

Bernadette

- Psychology and Neurology professor, works as a licensed therapist

- Helps with Donna in the greenhouses

- Mostly teaches grad students

- In charge of the Anatomy and Physiology labs

- Has a fair approach with students, she’ll reach out to those who are struggling but doesn’t pursue them

- Use to be on the board but has stepped down since then to make more time for her family

- She will take runs on campus between classes, sometimes Claudia joins her

- The heaviest tea drinker between the sisters, almost always seen with a bottle or flask

- Donna often weaves flowers into her hair and she’s not taking them out for the rest of the day, she’ll rather spread dirt and petals and insects around campus than throw out a flower her baby sis gave her

Angie

- human in this one! Claudia’s daughter

- She’s studying music at the campus, hoping to make it big like movie scores or video game soundtracks

- The building the classes she takes are close enough to the buildings her mom and aunties teach in so she often stops by to visit them

- Definitely privileged- she gets access to back offices and free stuff- especially when Donna is around

- Knows the guitar from her mom, got taught the piano by Bernadette, and both her and Donna learned the violin together. She’s self teaching herself the drums.

- Knows the loopholes around campus rules and abuses the shit out of them

- If there’s a new rule that’s added to campus, it’s because of her

- Doesn’t dorm, she lives with her family- it’s free food, rent, transport, and she doesn’t have to do chores most of the time- why wouldn’t she? (The real reason is that she loves them too much to leave but you won’t hear it from her)

- But she does have a group of friends who are all musicians and all dorm together so when she’s not home she’s with them

#resident evil village #resident evil #donna beneviento #bernadette beneviento #claudia beneviento #professor au #professor donna #angie the doll #angie beneviento #headcannons

[beelmons]

Escapade 6

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader Rating: Explicit, readers under 18 are not advised to read this story. Tags: smut, best friends to lovers, possible angst at some point, porn with plot, mentions of weapons, minor OC appeareances for plot purposes, mentions of death for plot purposes, unprotected sex, reader drinks a bit of alcohol. Summary: You find out the identity of the deceased, the team uses this opportunity to try and figure out who the UnSub's next target is. Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 / 3: Bonus | 4 | 5 | 6 A/N: again I overdid it with the plot, a little less action now, but I promise it's coming, if you have stuck around, thank you. It's also a bit on the short side, but it's good to get this part of the story out of the way. Tag list: @punkndisorderrly @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @amywright @blorp-bee @hey-dw

When a friend shows up in your darkest moment, when you don’t make sense and your world seems to be crumbling down, that’s when you know they are meant to stay forever. Unlike any other relationship, there are no intrinsic bonds that force them to be your support, no bloodline, no legal contract, just a pure will to remain by your side. Aware of this, you weren’t sure ten lives would be enough to compensate Spencer. How do you repay a pair of arms that held you up as your knees gave in? Or the chest that let you pour your tears until you were dry? Or the heart that remained sat next to you in complete silence, just so you wouldn’t have to go through the pain of uncertainty alone? 

There was no ID on the body, to your misfortune, so Hotch had to arrange for the cadaver to be taken to Quantico, and even worse, requested that you identify it. He didn’t mean anything by it, but he was at the crime scene, and time was of the essence, you needed to know right away. The hour and a half that the medical examiner’s team took to transport it to the headquarters was the closest to hell as you had ever experienced, and you were certain that without the presence of Spencer you would have lost it in the middle of the office. 

It was around four in the morning, and neither of you had gotten a blink of sleep. You sat on your chair by the round table with your sight placed nowhere, deeply lost in thought, leg bouncing from the anxiety, mixed with that entire coffee pot you had split only between two people, just waiting for the dreaded call. 

—Hello? Yes, thank you, we’ll be right there —Spencer rushed to pick up the phone once he had seen Hotch’s name shine on the screen— The body is here. 

You took a deep breath in preparation, trying to brace yourself to face your least desired scenario. It wasn’t the first time you had been near death, but there was something about how everything was unraveling in this case, like every step of the way was meant to torture you, to break you. You made your way through the halls of the FBI building, your heart seeming to beat faster the closer you got to the forensic laboratories, with agent Reid following right behind you as your secondary. You froze in your place once you reached the metal door behind which you knew the new victim was awaiting to reveal itself to you. You fiddled with the knob slightly, doubtful and nervous, until you felt a hand on your shoulder that caused you to turn around in surprise; Spencer gave you a slight nod, letting you know that things were going to be okay, and that was the only indication you needed to gather the courage.

Yet, as you watched the lifeless being lay before you, you could feel a familiar sensation in your chest, the sweet lightness of relief. 

—It’s Carlos Gonzalez.—you finally whispered. 

If it hadn’t been the most inappropriate reaction to seeing a dead body, Spencer would have picked you up in a hug, he wanted to celebrate this small victory for you, but, above anything else, you two were profilers, officers of the law, and you had a job to do, that was the ground base of this arrangement that the two of you had. A pact that seemed to get blurrier with every new discovery. 

—I can’t tell you much just yet. —the M.E. interrupted your train of thought before you could even look at your partner. 

—He doesn’t seem malnourished. —Spencer said in such a tone he seemed to be talking to himself. 

—Like I said, —the examiner continued— I can’t give you the details, I have just only gotten the guy, but off the top of my head, he’s been dead less than 24 hours, there are ligature marks on his wrists and ankles, and his body is clean compared to other victims I’ve examined that have been in captivity. How long was he missing? 

—Officially, we’ve been investigating his disappearance for about five days, but we’ve got a theory that he was taken three weeks ago. —you answered.

—If he was held for that long, he was being well fed. I don’t see external signs of dehydration or drug consumption either, but that I can only say for sure once I get the lab results. Cause of death seems to be a bullet to the back of his head. —the ME contributed.  

—Execution style. —Reid clarified as he took a look at the wound area— This is the first time he’s purposely shown a murder, the other victims he tried to pose as accidents or suicide, it’s almost as if this was the murder that consolidated him as a killer, the murder that mattered and he wanted to show the world. 

—About that I can’t really say, but I’ll make sure to wipe the entire body down for any DNA I can find. —the medic spoke once again. 

—He has been careful enough to leave no traces on either the crime scenes or the victims, but we appreciate the effort. —you added.

Right after you finished talking, you exchanged pleasantries with the examiner and hurried to get out of the room. Silence fell upon your partner and yourself as you walked back towards the BAU office, the simple clacking of your shoes filling the echo of the halls. Reid was slightly behind you, unsure if it was an appropriate moment to ask about your mental state. You finally reached a more familiar area, locked administrative offices surrounding you instead of morgues and examination rooms. 

—Hey, —he began to speak in attempt to catch your attention

As magic, your body swiftly turned around at the sound of his voice, yet your intention was never to talk, and in a blink your arms were around his neck. You had planned for a hug, but you couldn’t help the way your lips drifted onto his, interrupting him mid sentence, attaching in a needy, loving way. He was taken aback, literally, by your sudden display of affection, his body stumbling slightly until his back had met the nearest wall. Your lips continued to move against Spencer’s, barely giving him the opportunity to catch his breath; his hands were amiss for a second until they finally settled for your neck, letting them slide in between your bodies to be able to wrap his fingers around the sides. 

Eventually, the need for oxygen was greater than his desire to continue kissing you, so his thumbs brushed over your cheeks to push you gently away from him. He visibly gulped and let out a quiet gasp, his tongue sliding over the area where your mouth had just been. He stared into your eyes, eyebrows showing you a bit of confusion. 

—Just wanted to show how grateful I am. I don’t know how to make it up to you. —you muttered, your hands moving to grab onto his wrists. 

—I’m sure we can figure something out after we get him back alive- —he said and his head leaned closer to place a gentle peck on your lips once again, his face refusing to move too far away from yours. 

There was a tingling sensation on your lips, three, very dangerous, words threatening to come out from them, if you opened your mouth you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself, it was a reflex, a need that bubbled from the deepest core, your bottom lip quivered, as if the need to express what you felt for him was controlling your body instead of the rational mind that knew it could destroy everything you’d built. Therefore, you were thankful for the chime of your phone that interrupted the stupid idea circling your brain; you took a glance at the screen and pulled apart at the sight of the message’s preview.

—It’s Hotch. Everyone is back at the office. 

You exchanged equally disappointed looks with Reid once your make out session had to be, once again, cut short, but you didn’t have time to be making out in the hall like teenagers, wondering ‘does he like me back’ in a highschool-like fashion, there was a case to solve, and a person to save, a person you also deeply cared about. You entered the round table office to find the team already gathered, the digital board on and including some of the new information Hotch had gotten from the local police. 

—Good, now that you’re here, you can walk us through what you’ve found. —the boss said as he offered the two of you the platform to speak. 

—The deceased is Carlos Gonzalez —Reid began, and the rest of the people in the room seemed to release an empathic, relieved sigh— We will have more details after the examiner finishes the autopsy, but he seems to have been dead no longer than twenty four hours, no signs of torture other than being bounded, and what’s more important he seemed well fed and hydrated, he took care of him while he kept him around.

—What’s C.O.D.? —Rossi asked. 

—Bullet to the back of the head, execution style. —the doctor clarified and the team’s eyes narrowed in confusion. 

—That doesn’t make any sense, he posed the other deaths to look as anything other than murder, why would he make it obvious now? —Emily pointed out. 

—He’s sending us a message, he wants the attention. —Hotch said— So far, we’ve kept this under the rug because the DC police lied to the family members about the cause of deaths of the first two victims, but now, it’s impossible to stop the investigation from going public. If we don’t move fast, the media is going to get involved. 

—Could also be that he doesn’t know that we’re onto him, and thinks he successfully passed the other two murders as accidents. —Rossi mentioned.

—We profiled his first two victims were impulse kills, even if he was stalking them beforehand to know their routines. The staging seemed rushed, he was careful with the DNA, but not with the forensic countermeasures, but this kill was planned, it took him almost a week to build up to it, what was different about this guy? —Morgan added 

—There’s no way to tell so far, we have no idea why or how he’s choosing them. —JJ contributed to her friend’s statement. 

—Maybe not about the first two victims, but we have a theory on how he was getting the information on their whereabouts, and why he was keeping Carlos alive. —Reid answered— We believe he was using him to access FBI human resources databases in an attempt to find a specific file. See, SSA’s and higher ranks’ information is encrypted and only accessible to cleared accounts and passwords under the approval of a supervisor, so in order to get the file he would’ve needed his passwords and user. 

—Why not just have him write down the passwords and kill him? —Emily asked. 

—Navigating the FBI software isn’t easy. —Hotch mentioned— If the UnSub was unfamiliar with the system he might have needed help, some accesses also require biometrics, and at any given second, a supervisor might call you or email you to question about the requisition. It is possible that he kept him around in case he needed any of those. 

—Do we know when and whose files he requested? —Rossi inquired. 

—We do now. —Garcia’s voice snapped everyone’s attention towards the entrance of the office— I went over Carlos’s human resources file and his system activity logs, he accessed Dylan Parker’s file three days before he was found, and Andrea Roger’s two days before her accident. These two were also right about Gonzalez’s activities, he put in an annual leave for two weeks and was supposed to come back last monday, but he requested a sick day and a personal day back to back exactly when he was supposed to resume his activities, so his boss didn’t notice his absence until thursday, when he was reported missing. However, I called the airline and they confirmed that Carlos Gonzalez never boarded the plane, so the assumption that he was taken before the trip is completely plausible. 

—So, that’s how he was getting their home addresses, their work schedules, and so on. If he lives in DC like the geographical profile suggests, he could have stalked them without leaving a paper trail on a motel or hotel, he’d just watch them, take notes, and drive back home. —Jennifer observed. 

—That’s correct. Lastly, and most importantly, on the day he was supposed to come back he put in a requisition for an SSA’s file under the pretense of a workplace incident audit. Now, it’s important to note sick and personal day requisitions go to the direct supervisor and only appear on the system once he has registered them, whereas the file request went straight to the unit chief, so his superior wasn’t notified. 

—There was no overlap in the system, the supervisor didn’t make the connection, and the unit chief just assumed he had gone back to duty. —Rossi pointed out. 

—Mhm. —Penelope continued, her demeanor changing to a concerned, slightly sad one— And one more thing, due to the Unit Chief being busy, the request was only approved this morning. 

—If he already has the file, and he got rid of Gonzalez, this agent is probably his last target. —Morgan clarified for the team. 

—We have to put a tail on them, he might not wait as long this time to make his move. —Emily mentioned once again— Whose is it, Garcia?  Penelope was unable to speak, her eyes just sadly and slowly traveled to you. The rest of your coworkers followed her line of sight, and everyone let out their own version of a frustrated and concerned sigh at the realization. It was you, you were the last target.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x you smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/reader smut #fic: mine #fic: spencer

[xxkitty13]

Vampire AU pt. 2

Lawlu- Vampire Law x Human Luffy

Law still can’t resist the lubooty :v

Previous -> Part 1 Next -> Part 3

NSFW, slight gore (descriptions of body dissection)

The next following days were like torture to Law. The straw hat boy would not leave his side. He wonders if it was the bite mark. It has healed now, but the pheromone venom has merged with his DNA. This would attach the "victim" to its mate. However, Luffy's attachment is much. . . different.

"Oi, Torao!"

"Leave me alone."

Law is in his laboratory, dissecting a specimen as Luffy spins around in a wheeled chair.

"When will we have lunch? I'm hungry," he pouts.

Law continues to ignore him. Everywhere he goes, the human will follow as well. He can't even concentrate on his work. Luffy sees that the vampire is not responding. He goes to wrap his arms around him, tangling himself.

"Tsk, can't you see that I'm busy."

“But I’m starving,” he pouts again.

He looks over to see what Law is cutting open on the steel table. It fascinates him.

“Did you kill it?”

“Yes.”

He gasps. “Was he a human?”

“Maybe.”

“Why did you kill a human? Are you a murderer?”

Rolling his eyes, he answers his question. “He deserved it, he’s a piece of scum.”

Luffy wondered what the man did for the vampire to kill him. Law emits a good aura, so there must be a reason for his death. Not wanting to find out, he observes the opened cavity. Law proceeds to disembowel him and throws the wet intestines in a bucket. It grossed him out, almost ruining his appetite- almost.

“What’s the point of doing this?”

Knowing he wouldn’t stop; he continues to give him answers.

“Like I said before, I’m a surgeon. I continue my practice on human or animal cadavers. Whenever I see an opportunity to retrieve a specimen, I kill them. Fresh ones are ideal.”

He picks up the gall bladder and squishes it in his hand. “Sometimes I do it for fun.” He turns his gaze to Luffy, his lifeless eyes meet with his shinning ones.

The straw hat could feel the intensity in the room. He gulps, looking at the remaining tissue of the organ spill out the vampire’s tightened fist.

“Do you want to try?”

Luffy immediately shakes his head. This made him uneasy. Law scared him.

The vampire chuckles, amused at his reaction.

“Don’t worry mugiwara-ya, I won’t do this to you.”

He shakes what remained of the gall bladder and wraps the body up. The stretcher next the table is used to transfer what remained to the attached body. He transports the body to the freezer storage.

Law cleans the working station, with Luffy still wrapped around his body. He hums, rinsing the bloody mess with a hose. The water mixed blood drains to the floor. He picks the bucket filled with the intestines and takes it to the waste bin.

He removes the blood-stained gloves and throws them away. At the sink, he thoroughly washes his hands before flicking Luffy’s forehead.

“Ow.” He rubs his stinging forehead. “What was that for?”

“For bothering me.”

He proceeds to exit the laboratory and makes his way up to ground level.

“Why don’t you use your ability? It will take us to the kitchen faster.”

“This devil fruit power takes a lot of energy. It’s best that I walk.”

The human groans.

Enjoying the silence, Law walks to the kitchen. Luffy releases his stretched arms off of the vampire.

“Wait in the dinning room, I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay,” he grins, dashing away.

Luffy sits at the large dining table. The dark wood allows the red candles pop out. To the straw hat, the place is eerie and dreads of despair. It’s quite lonely, the darkness surrounding the castle adds to the solitary ambiance.

Lost in his trace of thoughts, Law appears with a cart filled with large trays.

“Eat up.” He places the food tray in front of Luffy and goes to sit at the opposite end of the table.

“Thank you!” Luffy beams with a smile before digging in. Law hides his small blush, watching the human enjoy the meal.

It amazed him. The appetite he holds is never ending. He liked seeing the human stuff himself till he reached his limit. His round form made him look cute. Something Law would not admit.

“Are you not going to eat?”

Law only hums in response. One of the reasons he gives Luffy so much food is to prepare him for his own feast. It wasn’t necessarily selfish as the human is required to eat in such quantities.

Luffy finishes his meal and becomes a round ball of flesh. The vampire laughs at his new figure.

“I never understand how that works.”

“I told you. I’m made of rubber. Everything stretches.”

Law gets up from his chair and rolls Luffy away from the dining room.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖౨ৎ.𖥔 ݁ ˖-`♡´-.𖥔 ݁ ˖౨ৎ.𖥔

Right before Law reached his destination, Luffy’s body returns to its normal size. The straw hat’s slim figure drops to the hard surface of the cold floor. Law goes to open the door in front of them and drags Luffy inside.

There he is met with the soft texture of carpet. The room lights turn on but leave a dim lighting. Inside the small room, a large round burgundy sofa is situated in the middle.

Law sits Luffy on the round furniture and removes his black coat, leaving it on a nearby chair. He walks to a closet and pulls out a box. He digs his hand inside and pulls out a studded collar.

As the vampire pulls out more items, Luffy stares at Law’s figure. His chest is fully exposed. More tattoos are revealed. The art intrigued the straw hat, his eyes trace each line over his toned abs.

Out of his peripheral vision, Law catches the human staring at his body. He smirks.

He walks up to him. “Show me your wrist.”

The straw hat obliges and feels rope tighten around his hands.

“Huh, what are you doing?”

“Binding you.”

With the rope in place, Law goes to get the collar.

“I’m not a dog. Don’t place that on me.”

The vampire ignores him and places the collar on his neck. He then proceeds to strip him of his clothes, the human trashes around.

“My hat!”

Luffy goes to kick him, but Law stops him, applying force to his grip.

“You don’t want to do that.” Red flashes from his eyes. The human stops, realizing what those eyes meant.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Luffy shakes, completely nude before the vampire.

Law crouches to his eye level and grins. “You’ve been pushing my buttons all week. It’s time I discipline you.”

He gulps. Law hovers over him and makes him bend over. With his back arched, Law kneels behind him, staring at his small hole. His index finger slides down the opening, making Luffy shiver in response.

“Have you felt this sensation before, mugiwara-ya?”

The straw hat shakes his head, his face red from the touch.

“Are you curious to find out?” He smirks.

Law licks his finger and traces the rim of the hole with his wet digit. Luffy nods his head at the feeling.

“Good.”

Enticing him, he gently sticks his index finger inside. The warm flesh eagerly engulfs him. Luffy grunts at the foreign sensation inside of him. Law adds another finger, stretching him out some more.

“If I remember correctly, everything is able to stretch.”

The human eyes meet with Law’s dark ones. His red orbs frighten him.

A sudden cold object is felt at this entrance. The pointy thing is submerged inside of him.

"Torao!" he screeches. The coldness invades his body, stretching his walls as it enters. "I- I don't like how it feels."

With a single push, Law forces the butt plug in Luffy. He cries out, not necessarily from pain. Luffy looks back at the vampire with teary eyes, resting his face on his tied hands.

Law flicks the heart gem, letting the human hitch at the vibration.

"This will get you ready," he mumbles.

He smacks his ass, leaving a stinging print on his right cheek. The human yelps, confused at the violent actions of the vampire. He intently watches him, seeing a grin plaster on the vampire's face before moving away. Law stands before him nude, eyeing him down with hunger.

“Before I continue, I want you to beg for it.”

Law whips out his throbbing member. It stands tall, filled with blood, ready to feel Luffy’s walls engulf it in its moist warmth. He strokes his erection, wanting nothing more than to fill his insides.

Letting go of his cock, he flips Luffy onto his back and hovers over him. With one hand, he pins the tied limbs over the human's head.

"Mugiwara-ya, are you afraid?" he whispers in his ear, licking the pinna.

Unsure what to think, Luffy only gulps. Law chuckles sinisterly, nibbling on his earlobe. "You should be."

His tongue trails down his neck. Right over his jugular. His sharp canines rub against the soft skin. He can hear the blood pump through his blood vessels. The sound is lovely. The vampire sucks on the semi-salty skin, barely digging his teeth through. He leaves a nasty hickey and attacks another part of neck to leave his love marks.

Law sits up, his eyes gaze to Luffy's own erection.

"Cute."

His hand grabs the member, squeezing on it gently.

"T-torao-" he mewls.

He lets go of it, leaving Luffy intrigued of the new feeling. Law's head travels down his legs, kissing the tender thighs. His tongue licks the warm skin, making the human shiver.

He bites down on his left thigh, the blood drips down the leg. The vampire bites the other thigh and gently laps on the punctures. Luffy winces at each bite mark, feeling his blood ooze out.

The vampire licks the red liquid from his lips. He gives the human a toothy smile, his canines stained with blood.

“I want to taste more of you. Will you let me, mugiwara-ya?”

He goes down on him, caressing his balls. His tongue drags from the base of the shaft to the tip, running purposely over the slit. Luffy whimpers.

"W-what are you doing to me Torao? I- I don't know if I like it. . ."

Law chuckles softly at the words. "Oh, you're going to love it."

Excitedly, he takes Luffy's dick in his mouth.

"T-torao, what are you doing-"

He's careful not to cut him with his teeth as he bobs down on the shaft. The human brings his tied hands to grab Law's head, but the vampire looked at him with dark eyes. Luffy stops and rest his hands below his abdomen.

Law sucks on him faster, twirling his tongue over the sensitive tip. Luffy lets out soft moans, enjoying the slick tongue over his dick. Before Law could continue, a shot of hot cum is disposed in his mouth. He swallows all of it.

"That was quick. . ." He looks at the panting human. "Did you like that?"

Luffy nods, his rosy cheeks showing in the dim light.

"Well, it's not over yet."

Eager to begin the main event, his hard cock is placed over the human's soft one. He removes the butt plug from his hole and throws it across the room.

"We won't be needing that anymore."

He strokes himself a few times before he guides the tip of his member over the prepped hole. Now it begins, he pushed the tip through the entrance, slowly guiding himself inside. He already feels the warm walls tighten around him. He groans at the constriction.

"T-there's no way I can take that." Luffy pants out.

"You're made of rubber, remember? Everything stretches," he laughs quietly.

The vampire pushes in deeper, despite the plug, his insides are still tight. He does not complain, the sensation is blissful. It did not take long for his cock to enter completely. He hovers over the human, his forehead connected to his. The two lock eyes.

"I'm going to ruin you."

He winds back and thrusts with great force. Luffy arches his back at the sudden movement. It is slow, but painful. To Law, the clenching warmth felt amazing. He continues to pound his ass, picking up the pace as he goes.

"T-torao, sl-slow down."

"Huh? Go faster? Your wish is granted."

His hand wraps around his neck, squeezing with enough force, and begins to penetrate him deeply. Law huffs and puffs, letting himself go inside of Luffy. Each slap sounds off the room, combining with the sound emitting from their mouths.

The human starts to feel a certain spot ignite with pleasure. The vampire's hard dick hits his spot just right. He cannot contain his voice and becomes a moaning mess.

Luffy opens his teary eyes to see Law's bloodlust ones. The pressure on his neck, contained him down. His vision foggy from the overstimulation.

"T-torao," he barely makes out.

Law goes to his ears, grunting loudly next to him.

"S-say my name."

"T-torao. . ."

The grip on Luffy's neck tighten. "Say my name."

"T-"

Law squeezes harder. "Say it."

"L-Law!" Luffy moans out, panting in distress.

Law smiles. "Good boy." His grip on the neck loosens as he picks Luffy from the sofa.

Using his knees, he sits on the soft padding and fucks Luffy in his arms. In the new position, he's able to go deeper inside. "Fuck," he moans out, penetrating him harder.

He bites the human shoulder, feasting on his sweet blood. All Luffy could do is scream out from pleasure and agony. With his hands still tied, his arms laid between them awkwardly. He uses the little strength he has to break free. Luffy wraps his arms around the vampire's torso, holding on for support. Law bucks against him, making Luffy bounce up and down.

"L-law, it feels so good. . ." Luffy lays at the crook of neck. Salvia drools down his collarbone, hazy at the immense sensation.

It began to be too much for the vampire, the helpless whimper of the human is music to his ears. His core tightens and thrusts at an ungodly rate, his throbbing cock ready to bust. A wave of great pleasure is released from his member, the awaiting load leashing inside of Luffy.

He lets Luffy ride his orgasm out and the human came soon after. The cum splatters over their chest, the heat brings shivers to his spine.

Law lays Luffy down on the sofa and embraces him. He licks the bite mark on his shoulder, consuming the blood that remained. The human trembles in his arms, his body still processing the brutal pounding. Law pecks his temple and intertwines their hands.

"Are you okay, mugiwara-ya?"

Luffy nods, burying his face onto his chest. Law only chuckles at his response and holds him close. This warm hug is perfect, a feeling he has been longing for.

"Luffy.”

The human looks up at the vampire.

"I want to hold you forever."

He giggles, letting his arms wrap around Law. They snuggle each other and drift to sleep, drained from their hot session.

#one piece #lawlu #lulaw #vampire law #law x luffy #monkey d. luffy #trafalgar law

[vlxdisdying]

The Holy Innocents' Cemetery was defunct in 1786, where did the vampire coven go afterwards?

"While sipping away the broth, I noticed a large, wooden cart approaching, wheeled forward by several knackers. A pile of cadavers laid inside, all in various stages of decomposition. Some bloated and others sunken, with their leathery skin plastered to bones, all wrapped in tattered clothes. Another one transported a dozen or so barrels, presumably filled with corpse wax that was to be turned into soap, or just scattered skeletons. Those were remnants of the Holy Innocents' cemetery, transported across Paris for the past year or so, and wheeled right into the newly opened catacombs. And what a horrible sight it was. But still not horrible enough to make me throw away the remaining broth, which I slurped up without enjoyment.

I would've turned away from it, if there hadn't been a figure behind both transports that cought my eye. A young nun from the Filles-Dieu convent, the church to which debauched women and girls fled, seeking redemption. Prostitutes, beggars and vice-seeking sinners. Mostly pulled from slums, the Parisian Courts of Miracles, but some were prodigal daughters, unfit to marry or a sore on their family's reputation. The nuns stirred a certain compassion within me whenever I saw them, and even when I didn't. Since every condemned man went to their courtyard's cross to kiss it, and each one was fed bread and wine by their hand. "The Last Piece Of The Patient" they called it. Then they would be sent off to slaughter, but not before they ate from the nuns' holy palms.

This one followed behind, hands folded over a black tunic as a cross dangled over them. Her feet were hidden beneath the long habit skirt, further adding to the impression of floating, as she slided forward seamlessly. It was no way to look upon a nun, but I couldn't disregard her apparent beauty. No more than 20 years old, though she was unusually tall, but slim. Her face was spotless, white as the cap underneath her black veil, which made the auburn of her eyebrows stand out even more, and left me to guess if the hidden mane underneath was just as red. As the carts passed by, and she neared, those dark brown eyes fell onto me.

I'd found familiarity in her gaze, or some sort of recognition. A knowledge of me that she, for some reason, seemed to possess. I'd suddenly thought of the old man's face from my nightmare, and just as quickly, Ulysse had also crossed my mind, without me willing it. "Wolfkiller" the sinister voice echoed for a second. Then an overhead view of the townhouse I lived in appeared, and I was struck by it in a way I could not explain. For I have never seen it from such a position, and never again could. It was the townhouse looked at from the eyes of a bird. I'd felt entranced, flooded by all the sudden images and titillated with a burst emotion. It felt as if I was riffling through a catalogue of feelings, spending mere seconds with each one.

And it had all passed me by for the dozen or so steps she took while looking at me, stopping when the distance made her turn straight ahead.

 I fell to my knees instantly, released from the feverish convulsion. I panted, sweat wetting my hairline despite the freezing weather. Almost making me worry for the integrity of the white powder, if I'd not had much more to worry about. It was the Witches' Place all over again, but where the unanswerable once blackened it's void in space, there finally stood a sense of something "other". The other that I hoped to reach in all my calls to God, the answer to all desperate pleading. And it made itself visible in the demure gaze of a redeemed prostitute.

I sprung myself up to follow, but she made herself disappear. Nobody stood behind the cadaver carts anymore."

An excerpt of "Behind The Mask, Another Mask" chapter 8, a Vampire Chronicles fanfiction, set in Revolutionary France with a human Lestat POV.

Behind The Mask, Another Mask - Chapter 1 - pisanjuk - Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice [Archive of Our Own]

#vampire chronicles #lestat de lioncourt #iwtv #interview with the vampire #iwtv fanfiction #fanfic #armand #the vampire armand

[thecoffeelorian]

I've seen commenters talk about Crosshair like he's already dead, whether it's from becoming a Clone Assassin YET AGAIN, the dark trooper program, and the list goes on.

What they all seem to want to ignore, however, are the OBVIOUS KRIFFING PATTERNS that have been going on in the background.  Patterns that could be described as "blink-and-you'll-miss-it" scenes, but nevertheless, the patterns are there, and I'll tell you exactly how under the cut.

There has been a main character shown rescuing the boy characters/male characters like Hunter, Gungi, and Benni when a skeptical person might expect them to always be saving her instead.

There has been a main character who's recently growing more horrified at the scenes of death going on around her, such as Clone X's cadaver and the loss of the crew transporting the baby Zillo beast.

There has been a main character who literally had to almost cry in front of Tech, and later snap at him, for him to confess that YES, he's been hurting just as much as she is, even if he doesn't vocalize it immediately or show it in his body language.

I remember Omega.  

And if anyone else has been paying attention to her continued growth, but at the same time think that she's somehow going to ignore whatever's happening in the pits of Mount Tantiss solely for the lulz, I'd like to ask them one important question.

When has she EVER, in the span of 28 whole episodes, ignored ANYONE who needs help?

Especially if that person just might apologize profusely to her, as well as promise to get them both home again?

Would she REALLY sit on her hands and do NOTHING, when all this time, she's wanted ALL of her baby brothers back...?!

#the bad batch #the bad batch speculation #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #she's the key you nerds!! #unfollow me if you don't like it!!

[bedlambrainworm]

@pearl-granger

How to get away with MURDER!!! (made for research and writing purposes only :) or not idc)

Step 1 : Actually do the murder

It's better to not kill anyone you know, since you'll automatically be questioned if you have a connection with the victim.

Isolate your victim, don't do it in broad daylight you dumb fucks. In a car on a highway, in your house (soundproof it just in case), in a forest, preferably at night when there's no one awake and around. This isn't a full list obviously, there are a bunch of isolated places you could use. Don't go to abandoned warehouses or houses though, since there's a probability some crackhead or criminal will already be there/come in there.

Choosing a weapon isn't just 'oh I'll just take this it seems cool', obviously. You have to work with the circumstances. Shooting someone is efficient, but is easily traced. Your gun's barrel leaves unique marks on the bullet, so if the weapon is found it's game over. Gunshot residue will also probably end up on your skin and clothes. A knife is less efficient and more risky, but way easier to get your hands on, easier to clean, easier to dispose of. The victim might struggle though, and might even get away, so watch out for that. Strangulation is a terrible idea most of the time, considering the amount of time needed to kill someone if you're inexperienced. After 10 seconds of pressure (if you're experienced) the victim will lose consciousness. 4-9 minutes are needed to finish them off. There are other choices of weapons but I'm too lazy to go over them, these are just the basics.

Side note : When killing someone with a knife, go for the neck and chest. Try to slash their throat if possible. It'll cut the major arteries, the airways, and the vocal cords all at once, so it's pretty convenient. It'll be very messy, though.

Step 2 : Cleaning up the crime scene (and body disposal)

Okay, you've killed someone, now what? The most fucking annoying but also the most important part of the murder, that's what. The cleaning process.

To increase your chances of getting away with it, dispose of the body. I know it sounds tempting to just leave it there, but it's basically a physical version of a confession and honestly a nuisance. Especially if it's in your house. So roll it in a tarp or something and put it aside for a moment, because cleaning the crime scene is priority while the blood still hasn't dried (it's harder to clean if it has). Get bleach and get scrubbing, because you'll probably be here for a couple hours depending on how much blood there is. Scrub until the crime scene is spotless, and make sure you didn't miss any little spots between tiles or something, because the cops can and will find them.

Now, onto getting rid of the body. First, change clothes, because you're probably covered in blood and sweating from the effort of cleaning up so vigorously. Next, you have a lot of choices, and I mean a lot.

Cutting it up. As tempting as it may seem, it's incredibly difficult, messy, and time-consuming. If you're prepared, by all means go ahead. If you're not, don't even think about it, it's not worth it.

Dumping it in a body of water. For that you need to poke holes in the body so it doesn't float. You also need to transport it, which means you'll also have to clean your car. Depending on how you killed the victim, putting it in your car is not a good idea. If they're not dripping blood, it's fine. If they are, I don't recommend it.

Burn it. This is more difficult than it seems. A body takes a long time to burn, and you need to get it into an isolated area (again, using your car). If you really want to, get yourself a lot of gasoline and prepare for collateral damage.

Just leaving it in a forest. A very lazy option, a very risky option, don't even consider it. No.

Burying it. It's an okay option, but cadaver dogs can easily find it, whether you bury a dead animal on top or not. Also time-consuming, and physically demanding. Don't bury it in your own garden, it's too suspicious and is basically game over upon discovery.

(there's probably more but.. too lazy)

Step 3 : Getting rid of the evidence

Once you get back from dumping the body, it's time to do something even worse than cleaning up. Hoover every. Single. Surface. In the murder scene, so no DNA comes up. Wipe down every surface you or the victim touched (if it's your house or car there's no need to wipe away your own prints). Now clean the murder weapon if you have one. If it's a gun, wipe the prints off and dispose of it in a sewer grate or body of water somewhere away from your house and the murder scene. If it's a knife, clean the blood off with bleach and do as you would with the gun. Next, get rid of the clothes you were wearing. If possible, burn them. Otherwise, just make sure no one finds them, ever. Then take a shower. Wash every inch of your body.

Step 4 : Contemplate your decisions

You're in the shower, thinking about what you've done. How does it make you feel? Guilty? Happy? ...Nothing?

Oops, the Thoughts are here! Shake them away, it's time to make an alibi!

Step 5 : The alibi bullshit.

I have no idea how to make an alibi. Not my problem, I'm not the one getting caught if you don't have one.

In all seriousness, get some friends to vouch for you. They might sell you out, so talk to a friend you're sure you can trust.

That's all I could think of!

#murder tips #this is a joke #idk lmao #i have a problem

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Fëanorian Week - Ambarussa

It's twin time :) Less sad this time (I hope)

Words: 510

Characters: Amras & Amrod

Prompts: Childhood, Lordship, Regrets, Twin, Hunting

Warnings: Death of an animal, loss of identity, existential fear

Like two shadows cast by a slanted sunbeam hitting a gnarly tree, the twins slid noiselessly closer, arrows notched and eyes narrowed.

They had always delighted in hunting, but their puerile pleasure had since been marred lastingly by the understanding of the true cost of death.

Without having to exchange a single look, let alone a spoken word, they moved in perfect synchronicity as they prepared to bring down their family’s dinner.

It was vital to their pride and identity to contribute to the survival of their rapidly dwindling brotherhood as best they could—too long had they been coddled and excluded on the grounds of their respective youth and irrefutable position on the bottom rung of the familial hierarchy.

Giving a piercing cry of agony, the deer—once a proud guardian of the dark forest—fell to the mossy ground before laying still, its eyes as sightless and dull as discarded gems.

They had triumphed, but their victory tasted bitter, befouled by necessity and dire need as it was.

Already, they could feel the impatience of their elders thrumming in their own veins—they had to move on, ever driven by the siren call of their father’s accursed stones, and there was neither time nor room for leisure or rest.

As they bent over the cadaver to cut away what they wouldn’t need or couldn’t transport, their hands moved with ruthless efficiency while their hearts, beating as one, mourned the unceremonious demise of so proud a beast.

In a world of waxy greens and muddy browns, the narrow bands fastened around their wrists flashed like exotic blossoms, a single dash of muted colour amidst the monochrome of the woods.

Once, the woven bracelets had been positively gleaming, but they had bled out most of their dye over the years, thus becoming a horribly apt representation of the change the twins’ very souls had undergone.

Carnistir, in a slightly insulting jest, had bestowed this simple but invaluable gift upon them to keep them apart.

Back in the days of wild frolicking and courtly appearances, it had been important to keep track of Fëanor’s children, and the two youngest sons had played their part with as much dutiful gravitas as they could muster in between hunts and escapades.

How heedless and callous they’d been, disregarding their caring mother’s pleas and their father’s remonstrances cavalierly to follow their wayward brother into the forest instead of humouring their grandfather or listening to his wise council.

Now, they were no longer sure whether anyone cared which one of them had been born first as long as nobody had to learn which one was to die before the other.

Slinging their packs, dripping with blood and heavy with their gruesome prize, across their broad backs, they padded off as silently as they’d come.

To their brothers and the world, they were one, and they couldn’t even regret having lost their own separate identities if this conflation meant that they’d never truly be alone.

Pityo and Telvo were no more—only Ambarussa, burned and bitter, remained.

-> Masterlist

@feanorianweek, here is the second to last submission!

#og post #fëanorianweek #feanorianweek #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #Ambarussa #Day 5 #Childhood #Lordship #Regrets #Hunting #Twins #Amrod #Amras #animal death #loss of identity

[yukipri]

The Prime Override - Chapter 47 is up!

Jango - The Morgue

Aaaand it's past 4 AM but the next chapter's finally up!

This chapter: The transport stops by the morgue to pick up some clone bodies.

WARNINGS: Descriptions of dead bodies and things done to dead bodies. Not graphic, but may squick some people. Also a new OC! And another familiar face!

“Twenty true clone cadavers for pick up, as well as the extra fetus to replace Psi-ØØ.”

And that means that Stabber will get to see one of his most favorite people ever. “That many vod’e going on their final journey’s gonna have our favorite Chief Mortician dragging himself out of the shadows. You gonna come down to say hi?” Stabber’s definitely gonna say hi.

Ashe just sighs again. He’s blinking more than usual—this has been an exceptionally emotionally taxing few rotations, and he’s even more drained than he usually is. Stabber makes a note to make him nap after this, using Stabber himself as a weighted blanket. Because Ashe may be everyone else’s Doctor, but Stabber is Ashe’s personal medic, so he’s gotta look out for his patient. Even if it’s a self-assigned role.

“Saying hi it is,” Stabber says out loud, and plants himself at the edge of the loading ramp so he can be the first one down.

> > Read Ch 47 on AO3

> > Can't wait? Read Ch 48 on Patreon

#ThePrimeOverride #YukiPri writes #Ashe CC-2222 #Stabber CT-9111 #Morbs CC-7261 #Clone Trooper OC #Jango Fett #Clone Troopers #Omega Bad Batch #The Clone Wars #TCW #AO3

[mariacallous]

Content Warning: This story includes references to suicide. If you need help, call the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline for your region.

In 2021, an unidentified Black woman died by suicide after jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge. She was wearing hot-pink nail polish, and had a pink left eyebrow piercing and several tattoos—all distinguishing features that should have made it easier to identify her. Two years later, her identity is still unknown.

The tragedy of unidentified cadavers is something that Rionna Lee has been thinking about for years. Her mother used to transport human remains for New York’s Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, and would bring home morbid stories. One, Lee remembers, was of a man who had been hit by an MTA train. “One of the things that stuck out to me was the condition of his remains, which were scattered across the train tracks,” says Lee, 24, who now lives in Kingston, Pennsylvania. It distressed her to think of the families who would have to identify their loved ones—even more so, later, when she learned that some human remains would never be identified.

There are an average of 4,400 unidentified new cadavers per year in the US, and a total of 600,000 missing people across the country. Some of these cases are collected on databases, such as the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System (NamUs), which helps medical examiners, coroners, law enforcement officers, and members of the public solve missing, unidentified, and unclaimed cases across the country. The true scale of the problem is unknown, as the data available for the average number of unidentified cadavers comes from a 2004 census. Just 10 states have laws requiring that cases be entered into NamUs, meaning that many reports are voluntary.

As she looked into cases—including the woman with the pink nail polish—Lee noticed a pattern in which cases were solved and which weren’t. The decisive factor was often money. Funding from private donors, sponsorship, and public support meant that law enforcement agencies were able to access cutting-edge technology, such as Othram, a forensic genetics company, which has been pivotal in cracking several high-profile cases. Those that weren’t solved didn’t have resources behind them. Often, they were from marginalized groups. Lee, who identifies as Black and LGBTQ+, felt the need to raise awareness among overlooked members of society, those whose deaths often go unnoticed: transient individuals, racial minorities, substance users, and members of the LGBTQ+ community.

Lee set up a TikTok to try to raise awareness. After a few false starts, she went viral, attracting a following of 128,000. She set up a Facebook group—Thee Unidentified & Unsolved—which now has 39,000 members, many of whom work together to solve unidentified and unsolved cases. Thee Unidentified & Unsolved is one of several volunteer social media communities that are filling a gap left by the US state, a gap that is getting worse due to the overlapping crises of poverty, fentanyl, and shortfalls in public funding. Now, with AI image recognition more readily available, volunteers have new tools to help them identify the deceased. This brings with it new issues around privacy and consent, but those in the communities say their work brings closure to families. “I believe everyone starts off with a name,” says Lee. “I believe everyone should be able to leave this earth peacefully with their name.”

Lee started her TikTok campaign in October 2021. There were already several popular accounts that focused on locating missing people, but few, if any, were working to identify the deceased. She created her own page, but TikTok doesn’t allow graphic content such as morgue photos, and she struggled for traction.

She focused on cases where the decedent had been found with items that might help their friends and relatives identify them. “One of the videos I posted that gained exposure was a man with an undetermined race. He was found with a Salvatore Ferragamo gold buckle belt,” says Lee. Her audience was curious how a person with such an expensive piece of clothing could go unidentified. Her engagement grew, and finally, on November 9, 2022, one of her TikTok videos—the case of a 2022 Union County Jane Doe, a Black woman who died after being struck by multiple vehicles on US Route 22 in Hillside, New Jersey—went viral, racking up 652,000 views. A couple of days later, another video hit a million views. She created the Facebook group later that month, because the platform allows graphic content, like morgue pictures, which TikTok doesn’t.

There are around a dozen posts each day in the group, often unsolved cases from NamUs with pictures. Members scour the internet, looking for other images, comparing images with missing person sketches or social media profiles.

Some of the identification groups work globally; others are region- or country-specific or dedicated to unique circumstances, such as missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls. Online detective groups often tread a delicate line between altruistic investigation and mob obsession.

Thee Unidentified has had to tread that line carefully. Earlier this year, the group helped identify Adonis Beck, a TikTok star also known as Pope the Barber. Beck was found dead on August 10. The news spread quickly, causing an influx of new members to the Facebook group. Kenyetta Burks, one of the group’s admins who had first posted Beck’s image in the group, removed the morgue photos as they were posted, but was inundated with requests from people trying to see them, many from fake accounts pretending to be relatives. Sometimes, the admins will notice comments from members who seem more intrigued by the circumstances of death than those who are empathetic to the topic of unidentified cases. In situations that appear voyeuristic, the person is suspended, and if the behavior is repeated, they are banned, Lee says.

These social media groups have helped some families find closure. In 2022, a teenage boy stumbled upon Lee’s TikTok page and identified his mother, a 2017 Jane Doe case, via her tattoos. She was hit by a vehicle while crossing a street in Pasadena, California, and succumbed to her injuries in hospital. In May 2023, Burks posted a sketch, images, and information from NamUs in the Facebook group, which led to the identification of Dytavious Sanders, an MMA fighter from South Carolina, whose body was discovered earlier that month on May 9. Sander’s aunt identified him in the group and his mother asked for assistance in claiming his body.

One member of Thee Unidentified has recently began using a new tool, PimEyes, a controversial facial recognition search engine, as a means to identify the deceased via morgue photos. A quick upload produces search results in a matter of seconds. Photos from across the internet are organized in a single view, mugshots frequently among them. While this technology can accelerate the process of identifying the dead, it brings with it serious privacy concerns. In many cases, informed consent is obtained for neither the image uploaded nor the results that the technology returns, which can include the biometric data of private individuals. Thus far, a few members of the group have utilized this tool.

“While some individuals might be well meaning, online sleuths are using dangerous surveillance tools,” says Madeleine Stone, senior advocacy officer at Big Brother Watch, a privacy campaign group. “By selling this technology, facial recognition companies risk violating the dignity of deceased individuals, but moreover are violating the privacy rights of the billions of people whose photos they have taken, processed, and exploited without consent.”

PimEyes has been criticized by privacy advocates for scraping the internet for images and giving users access to highly personal information about private individuals. PimEyes CEO Giorgi Gobronidze says that these threats are exaggerated, and that PimEyes doesn’t hold images but just directs users to the URLs where images are hosted. “The tool is designed to help people to find the sources that publish photos, and if they shouldn't be there, apply to the website and initiate takedown.” Gobronidze says that PimEyes has many use cases, such as searching for missing people, including women and children in conflict areas, and actively cooperates with human rights organizations.

Lee says that the Thee Unidentified & Unsolved Facebook group “is not focused on the use of PimEyes … But I respect those who do use the tool and actually have successful outcomes.”

In other social media groups, PimEyes is slowly being introduced as an investigative tool for cases related to missing persons, cold cases, and human trafficking.

Experts also worry that this technology is not necessarily accurate, meaning that amateur sleuths could make mistakes with heartbreaking consequences. “This a noble goal, but a terrible approach,” says Albert Fox Cahn, executive director of the Surveillance Technology Oversight Project, an organization that litigates and advocates for privacy and fighting excessive local- and state-level surveillance. “This technology is biased and error prone, and I worry that a lot of worried families will be wrongly told their missing loved one is dead.”

For all of the challenges presented by volunteer online communities, the reality is that they exist in a vacuum left by the authorities.

In 2021, 106,699 Americans died of an overdose. In Seattle, the fentanyl crisis is so bad that the number of overdose deaths has doubled in the past three years, causing the morgues to overflow. The “fourth wave” of the crisis recently descended upon the US, an ongoing mass-overdose event that has consumed law enforcement agencies, stretching the resources necessary for identifying the dead. For medical examiners, the “tsunami” of bodies has resulted in staff burnout, exhausted resources, and the jeopardizing of many offices’ accreditation due to the necessity to conduct more autopsies than industry guidelines permit.

“Unfortunately, the opioid crisis has meant more individuals are coming into the Medical Examiner’s Office for examination,” says Constance DiAngelo, Philadelphia’s chief medical examiner. “Many of these folks are not initially identified.”

The authorities just don’t have the resources to investigate every case thoroughly. “Our challenges are related to funding,” DiAngelo says. “Exhumations, reinterment, DNA extraction and processing, and genealogy comparisons are expensive. A case could cost between $2,500 and $10,000, and that doesn’t include the need for staff who can be dedicated to this type of work.”

In King County, where Seattle is located, there are currently 57 unidentified people that the Medical Examiner’s Office is working to identify. This dire situation is a reality across major American metropolitan areas. In situations where people are found without identification, it can take weeks, if not months, to locate next of kin.

That waiting, and not knowing, can be agony for people whose loved ones have disappeared—like the family of Kallie Catron. Catron’s mother, Crystal Newman, last spoke with her on October 14, 2022. Catron said she missed her two children and wanted to come home. “When Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s passed, my sister knew something was wrong and called to report a missing person,” says Sarah Forister, Catron’s aunt. “I guess you can say a mother knows when something is wrong with her baby.”

On January 22, 2023, Newman was sent a link to a post on Thee Unidentified’s TikTok page. Morgue photos, and images of her tattoos, confirmed it was Catron. “At first, we were so mad that’s how we found out,” says Forister. “But Kallie’s mom, me, and her cousins watched the video showing her morgue photo and all her identifying tattoos multiple times a day.”

Eventually, Lee asked the family whether she could take down the video, as Catron had been identified. “I said yes, but please send me the video so I can watch it whenever I want to,” says Forister. Lee obliged. The community shared the family’s GoFundMe campaign to raise funds for Catron’s funeral and to support her children. “We realized that if it wasn’t for Thee Unidentified community and Rionna, we could still be looking for Kallie,” Forister says.

[consult-sherlockholmes]

Hey, as a consulting detective, do you think it would be a huge part of a successful murder, if the killer cut up the corpse, burried the parts far away from each other with animal cadaver on top of them and in a places without vegetation?

Well if you achieve all of that, probably. But there have often been accidental discoveries of burried bodies somewhere, and if there is just a random severed arm or head burried somewhere beneath some animal corpse it would be quite suspicious and indicate a murder, arms just don't go and bury themselves. But it would for sure be complicated to succesfully perfom all that, given you would need to first cut the corpse up which leaves a big mess that needs to be cleaned, then you have to transport the body parts to the desired location of burying which can also be quite difficult because people might notice, especially if it's already starting to smell can't just take a cab or the tube then. And you would also need to kill several animals for each body part, which is a practice I do not agree with. Just take something from the butchers. And even in areas without vegetation, one can tell whether someone has dug there, there are signs when soil has been moved, lower layers mixed with upper layers.

The best murders are when you don't even realise it's a murder.

#roleplay #rp #sherlock roleplay #sherlock rp #johnlock roleplay #johnlock rp #tw murder #tw corpse

[cryopathiic-a]

♡ + astra!

ship meme || accepting

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙰𝚂𝙺𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃? Dōma will say it was Astra and that she was pining for him hard from the first moment; but need I remind you the first moment entailed him standing there with his face half-melted off drooling— And by 'asking out' he possibly means the prison transport to her office...

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚆𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙸𝙽 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃 𝙺𝙸𝚂𝚂? Dōma and we should write that moment because we haven't and it haunts me at nights!!!

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙽𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂? Dōma, when he's not sarcastically calling her Master or Lord Stellaris or whatever, uses a lot of conventional terms of endearment but he's also a big fan of the westernized ones, when they learn them. Astra defaults to 'babe' and 'snowdrop'.

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙲𝙾𝙾𝙺𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙻𝚂? Dōma and because he can't taste-test they're always either extremely salty or extremely sweet; and Astra still eats them, unless he's pushed it to the point where take out becomes the only option

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴 𝙸𝙽 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙲? Probably Astra. Dōma's isn't as expanded.

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙷𝙾𝙶𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙳? Dōma because he's a princess(tm) and unfortunately in this verse he needs the rest, so he usually sleeps in the starfish pose on top of her.

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚆𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂 𝚄𝙿 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃? Morning wise, usually Astra. In general, it depends on how much Dōma has been fed. But he will, of course, sleep in every time they have to be up for something and then insist it's her fault for not feeding him enough—

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴? Astra, unless they've fought the previous night or something. Then he might make some for her as a peace offering.

𝚆𝙷𝙾'𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝙶 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙾𝙽? Dōma, though he's more of a weighted blanket.

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝚄𝙿 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚃? Both, but if this refers to a circadian rhythm it's definitely Dōma and if not, then it's Astra. Usually there will be some hours where either of them is sleeping while the other is awake.

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚆𝙷𝙾'𝚂 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳? Astra for his, usually. And there's times when he will respond by wrapping an arm around her/embracing her or squeezing her fingers, but there's also times where he'll withdraw his hand or stick it in his pocket.

𝚆𝙷𝙾'𝚂 𝙰 𝙵𝙰𝙽 𝙾𝙵 𝙿𝙳𝙰? Dōma, because he knows he can embarass her with it.

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚂𝙽𝙾𝚁𝙴𝚂? Astra when she's hella tired and sleeping on her back, change my mind. Dōma makes a quiet chirping noise sometimes when he's sleeping lightly, but usually he just sleeps like cadaver.

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙶𝙴𝚃𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙾𝚈𝙴𝙳 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙻𝚈? Astra and it's his favorite thing about her.

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝚂𝙴𝚇? Dōma. Astra isn't as invested in general, after all, and Dōma has a habit of using it for everything including making up after arguments, stress relief, quick alleviation from boredom, so on and so forth

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙰𝚂𝙺𝚂 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙸𝙽 𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙶𝙴? Astra better give him a proper proposal when that time comes. So he can go on to say some bullshit about how he's a forever bachelor and get a good kick between his legs for it.

𝙼𝚈 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴'𝚂 𝙵𝙰𝚅𝙾𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙴 𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚁𝚈 𝙾𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂: Probably their time at the concert, a night out drunk which we haven't written yet, their time at the skating ring or by the beach...

𝙰 𝚁𝙴𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚃 𝙼𝚈 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝚁𝙴𝙶𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂: I don't think Dōma has any regrets regarding how he treats Astra, because he doesn't really self-reflect on it. And he doesn't regret not turning her sooner, either, because he did enjoy their time being at a power imbalance with him as a demon and her as a human. One thing I can think of, though, is his behavior towards Ezra. If he'd known the backstory before meeting her, he would have simply killed her on the spot <3 Problem solved, right?

𝙸𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶: Dōma hates her relationship with her brother. Because Atreus is always the first priority and overshadows him in many ways. Outwardly he expresses that with 'concern' over their sibling relationship being co-dependent. But, ideally he'd like to cut her off from him. Because as long as Atreus is around, in whatever form, he'll continue to be number two. And that's obviously not his endgoal here.

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝚈 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴: From Astra he understands gift giving, quality time and physical touch as primary ones. In turn he offers physical touch, words of affirmation and occasionally acts of service, though those are dependent on if he's looking to gain something from her at the time —

#♥ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ɢᴏᴅ ᶠᵗ. ᴬˢᵗʳᵃ | astra stellaris ♥ #(( overall ship rating: it's cute. )) #astra stellaris #♛ ¦ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇꜱ༺ answered

[warningsine]

The manager of Harvard Medical School's morgue and three others have been charged with buying and selling stolen human remains.

Cedric Lodge allegedly took "heads, brains, skin and bones" from cadavers donated to Harvard University's medical school and sold them online.

According to the indictment, he and his wife, Denise, sold body parts to buyers in Pennsylvania and Massachusetts.

The scheme allegedly ran from 2018 to 2021.

Prosecutors allege Mr Lodge used his position as the manager of the "Anatomical Gifts Program" at Harvard Medical School to dismember cadavers donated for medical research.

Harvard students use donated bodies to study and practice medical procedures. When the school finishes using the cadaver, they are often cremated and the remains returned to their families, or buried in the university's medical cemetery, according to the indictment.

Mr Lodge and his wife are accused of harvesting, selling and shipping body parts from these donated cadavers instead.

"At times, Cedric Lodge allowed [others] to enter the morgue at Harvard Medical School and examine cadavers to choose what to purchase," according to a statement from the US Attorney's Office.

Katrina Maclean of Salem, Massachusetts, and Joshua Taylor, of West Lawn, Pennsylvania, allegedly bought body parts.

According to the charging statement, in October 2020, Ms Maclean purchased dissected faces for $600 (£473) that she intended to have tanned into leather.

Ms Maclean is the owner of a store called Kat's Creepy Creations. Social media accounts for the business show she specialised in up-cycling dolls into gothic, blood-soaked, horror novelties. It is unclear if the cadaver parts were used in her products. The indictment alleges she stored and sold human remains at the store.

Mr Taylor allegedly made 39 electronic payments to Ms Lodge for stolen body parts over the course of four years, totalling more than $37,000 (£29,226). The indictment included a grim reference to a PayPal memo for a purchase of $1,000 (£790) that allegedly read, "head number 7".

"Some crimes defy understanding," said United States Attorney Gerard M. Karam in a statement. "The theft and trafficking of human remains strikes at the very essence of what makes us human."

Both Cedric and Denise Lodge refused to answer reporters' questions after making an initial appearance at a New Hampshire federal courthouse on Wednesday.

All four defendants have been indicted on conspiracy and interstate transport of stolen goods charges. If convicted, they each face up to 15 years in prison.

#us #news

[eggcatsreads]

February Wrap-Up

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Favorite Read of the Month:

Solita by Vivien Rainn (GR review)

It’s only through facing the past and her buried fears can Sadie find salvation as she upturns the Hacienda’s twisted roots, roots born from the faith and fire of the conquistas, the Spaniards who came from distant shores, bringing with them not only their God, but also their demons.

THE gothic romance. This book changed my perspective on romance books. I've thought about this book regularly since I read it.

"In my time," he continues, voice low, "sanctity was measured by suffering. Those saints that abstained from the pleasures of life, fasted to starvation, mortified their flesh, drank the blood of the wounded - it was only they who saw the eyes of God, it was only through their agony that they were touched by true divinity, enraptured by their own faith."

"I...I'm not a saint, Silas." Her eyes meet his in a gaze that's wrapped up in the promise for everything she's always denied herself. The promise of temptation for the taste of that forbidden fruit, a single bite all it takes for irreversible expulsion, for an eternal fall from grace.

"I never said you were."

The warmth of his breath is so close to her own, heat mingling, pulses flush close. "Then what are you saying?"

"That I am," he answers. "I found God. And I'm looking into her eyes."

HELLO???? THIS QUOTE HAS IRREVOCABLY CHANGED HOW I READ ROMANCE BOOKS. THIS IS THE STANDARD.

-----------------------

Rest of Books Read Under the Cut:

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Undertakers by Nicole Glover (sequel)

The second book in the Murder & Magic series of historical fantasy novels featuring Hetty Rhodes and her husband, Benjy, magic practitioners and detectives living in post–Civil War Philadelphia.

Godkiller by Hannah Kaner

Kissen’s family were killed by zealots of a fire god - now, she makes a living killing gods. That is until she finds a god she cannot kill: Skedi, a god of white lies, who bound himself to a young noble, and are on the run from assassins.

The Book of Living Secrets by Madeline Roux (GR review)

Best friends Adelle and Connie love of a little-known gothic romance novel called Moira. When they find a way to enter the book, suddenly everything isn't how they remember.

The Devil and the Dark Water by Stuart Turton (GR review)

It's 1634 and Samuel Pipps, the world's greatest detective, is being transported to be executed for a crime he may, or may not, have committed. Out at sea things begin happening. A twice-dead leper stalks the decks. Strange symbols appear on the sails. Livestock is slaughtered. And then three passengers are marked for death, including Samuel.

The Song of the Sandman by J.F. Dubeau (GR review) (sequel)

After a terrible mass shooting at Cicero’s Circus, the evil presence responsible for the carnage is taken in by a doomsday cult lying in wait for such an opportunity.

The Cadaver King and the Country Dentist by Radley Balko

For nearly two decades, medical examiner Dr. Steven Hayne performed the vast majority of Mississippi's autopsies, while his friend Dr. Michael West, a local dentist, pitched himself as a forensic jack-of-all-trades. Together they became the go-to experts for prosecutors and helped put countless Mississippians in prison. But then some of those convictions began to fall apart.

Hell's Half-Acre by Susan Jonusas

In 1873 the people of Labette County, Kansas discovered the remains of countless bodies, and below the cabin was a cellar stained with blood. The cabin's family, the Benders, were nowhere to be found, sparking a frenzy that continued for decades.

Seductive Poison by Deborah Layton

In this haunting and riveting firsthand account, a survivor of Jim Jones's Peoples Temple opens up the shadowy world of cults and shows how anyone can fall under their spell.

-----------------------

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐

Born to be Hanged by Keith Thomson

The year is 1680, in the heart of the Golden Age of Piracy, and more than three hundred daring, hardened pirates gather on a remote Caribbean island. The plan: to wreak havoc on the Pacific coastline, raiding cities, mines, and merchant ships.

-----------------------

Books read so far this year: 21

How I rate books.

#books #2023 reading #reading wrap up 2023 #reading wrap up #february #february 2023 #bookblr #long post

[scotianostra]

September 2nd 1724 saw Maggie Dickson climb the gallows in Edinburgh after she had been sentenced to hang.

As you can see with the first pic the dates differ,  some sources make it 1728, a few say 1723, and only a handful attest a specific calendar date. Nobody seems to doubt the tale though, so much so a bar near where Maggie had her encounter with the hangman is named after her.

Deserted by her husband, young Maggie Dickson took lodgings at an inn in exchange for work, and became pregnant by either the innkeeper or his son. (Again — details in the various sources available read like a game of telephone.) Since single* pregnant working-class women had about as many employment options as birth control options, Maggie kept quiet about her condition in the interest of keeping her job.

And since male parliamentarians figured their job was to keep young lasses of loose character and modest means on the straight and narrow by criminalizing their options, Maggie’s sleight-of-womb put her in violation of a law against concealing a pregnancy. (The same situation was playing out elsewhere in the British Isles at this time.)

When the resulting infant turned up dead, the trail led straight to Dickson … but the concealment of the pregnancy and birth were capital crimes on their own, making it immaterial whether it had been a miscarried pregnancy, an act of infanticide, or simply one of the many early 18th century babies to die in the cradle. The law was an indiscriminate instrument to prevent women terminating their pregnancies.

Nothing noteworthy about the hanging itself is recorded; it seems to have been one of the routine public stranglings of the age, and even the scuffle over the body between family and medical students hunting dissection-ready cadavers was a normal occurrence.

The family won. And en route to Musselburgh for burial, Maggie started banging on the inside of the coffin, and was forthwith revived. Officials decided the sentence of hanging had already been carried out … and her awestruck neighbors suddenly started seeing Maggie sympathetically.

And they all lived happily ever after. This day’s principal, at any rate, gained a foothold in adequate prosperity, bore more children, and answered to the nickname “Half-Hangit Maggie Dickson” all the many more years of her life.

The story passed into legend; the dates, as we’ve alluded, fuzzed. One entrepreneurial English broadside publisher of the 19th century even transported the affair to February 1, 1813 — four years after a Concealment of Pregnancy Act reduced the penalty for Maggie Dickson’s “crime” to penal servitude. And near the site of the not-quite-Passion, should you call sometime in Edinburgh, you can raise Half-Hangit Maggie a pint at Maggie Dickson’s Pub, don’t expect much change out of a fiver though, a friend and I had a drink here during the Festival and got p change from the ten pound note! 

#Scotland #scottish #Edinburgh #Old Town #execution #hanging #history #folk lore