#hiding bodies

[abybweisse]

Ch201 (p3), Ginny's return

Staff carry out their constant duties while Finny and the top students sneak through the building and around outside. They lead him to the stable.

On perfect timing, the guy who drove Ginny away earlier comes back. Finny sees something that shocks him and gives him what I'd call a cold sweat.

Ginny could just be drugged, like the maids at Heathfield Manor, but either way her face is covered, and it seems here like the "fledging garment" is being used now as a shroud.

Of course, Finny has to start saying something and be hushed before they are discovered.

Before now, I had no idea what Theo meant by saying the "fledged" children hadn't fledged or truly left. But here is Ginny... or whatever is left of her.

Since Doll was last seen in the stable, too, I was first thinking that she goes there when she has an episode of needing a blood transfusion. Then perhaps there is somewhere in there where the children are used for the blood transfusions. That would suggest the children are alive and just drugged.

However, the other star lords wouldn't go there for transfusions, and apparently all the "fledged" children return to the orphanage like this, regardless of their class. So things aren't looking too good for poor Ginny. I really don't know if she's alive or dead. It's entirely possible the children are bled out elsewhere, and then their corpses are taken to some burial site under the stable.

[thedemigodsguide]

Hii, I just wanted to ask a question, what do I do with the unconscious body on the floor.

(P.S. she's unconscious cus I hit her over the head with a violin)

Well that was a waste of a perfectly good violin. As a violin player, that really hurts my heart. Unless it was one of those combat violins made out of celestial bronze like that one ukulele Austin from the Apollo cabin has, but those always sound trashy and tinny in comparison to a true version of the instrument.

Anyways, dealing with an unconscious body. Honestly, if you really need to get away with it without getting in trouble, I'd take the violin away from the scene, maybe store it in your cabin or something, then go back. Make sure there's nothing that could implicate you, maybe make it look like she tripped over something and hit her head, then call for the Apollo cabin healers, saying you just found her like that.

(Is it suspicious that I know how to get away with this kind of stuff? Maybe, but I guess that's what I get for studying forensic science back in middle school. You learn how to hide bodies and skew a crime scene 🙃)

I hope that helped. Just don't go around hitting more people over the head. Also, don't implicate me as an accomplice. I don't condone hiding crime scenes.

–Kally

[bloodwineenthusiast]

If you ever need to hide a body and not leave any evidence, don't ask me for help. My hair will get everywhere.

[kitschyclown]

guinea pigs always look so guilty girl what did you do

[devilishdelights]

Happy mermaaayyy I was able to make it just in time :]]

thank u @vivid-bun for brainstorming abt these guys with me!!!

[crunchchute]

My Sam & Max cosplay I debuted at a local con during the weekend!

[iizuumi]

Side effects of wearing your sentient Kaiju suit too often ,,,,

[the-badger-mole]

What I adore about the idea of Katara ending up with Zuko instead of Aang is that in Zuko she would have someone who would support her in her righteous anger. Had he been there when Katara challenged Pakku for her right to learn how fight, he would've backed her up. He would never have tried to tell Pakku that she didn't mean it. And he would've offered to help her dispose of his body if it came to that.

That's the energy that Katara needs. Someone who understands that she's not jumping into a fight for nothing. If she kills someone, she had a darned good reason.

[spacedace]

Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

-

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

[pixlokita]

Aight so infection au ? Saw some cool ones so wanted to try it too✨💕

Blob Greg version under the cut pffft-

He be a blob otherwise it’s too sad, but I put the original concept with the other spooky designs 👌

[badpunsandmore]

Don't use an animal carcass to cover a human one. Anyone with moderately good eyesight would be able to see that the dirt underneath is disturbed.

[artiststarme]

Eddie “had a guy” for everything. He had a music guy, a drug guy, a guy who knew other guys, and another guy that could get a guy for the thing that needed a guy. He had a guy to get the best flannels, a guy to do his homework, finally, and a movie guy to Although his movie guy was just Robin calling his movie taste shitty and recommending all of her favorites to him so she could third-wheel his and Steve’s dates to watch them.

Meanwhile, all of Steve’s “I have a guy” guys are Dustin. Need a guy to complain to over hairspray getting discontinued? Dustin. Need a guy to hang out with you for the day while your boyfriend is out of town for a concert? Dustin. Need to hunt down an otherworldly slimy monster that eats cat and wants to kill people? Dustin.

Except if he needs to hide a dead body. That’s when he calls Robin.

[deadpoets]

DEAD POETS SOCIETY (1989) dir. Peter Weir

[auspicioustidings]

ZOO KEEPER 141

Big cat bastard Ghost who absolutely tricks you into the enclosure by telling you the lions were in the back and then delights as you absolutely freak out thinking you are going to die.

Gaz at all times has a little trail of penguins behind him those little bastards adore this man and in fact nip at you whenever you get near him (he makes a point to always get near you because he finds angry penguins attacking you very funny).

Soap has not once told you the truth about how dangerous the insects, arachnids, or snakes he has made you hold for photos are. He does enjoy watching when you later read the little plaques and go a funny shade of green at how close you came to a very grusome demise.

Price is frequently making national news because he is teaching the gorilla's sign language (and telling them your name is good girl so that they sign it at you whenever you walk past that enclosure).

You reckon you could get them all back given how much your wolves seem to like you, but it's sort of weird that the four most playful and safe ones are never about at the same time as the 141 :')

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 160

Constantine might have made a slight mistake. Just an itty bitty one. Okay maybe not an itty bitty one, but it’s not like he usually deals with Realms beings! No one deals with Realms beings if they can help it, and never willingly! 

So maybe he had been a little more drunk than usual, and maybe a tiny bit more desperate. But he’s pretty sure he didn’t do any hanky-panky with anyone. So he’s very confused as to how the fuck, he apparently has not just one, but three Realms-cores?! 

Seriously, what the actual fuck, who looked at him of all people and decided, yeah, he looks like he could be a dad?! Mom!? Whatever the fuck it is. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do in this situation!?

[the-skeleton-in-ur-closet]

<3

it’s ok it’s just a little.