#is Effie still arrested

[mailorderfictionalcharacter]

I think an interesting - but very depressing - Hunger Games AU would be one where the rebellion plan in Catching Fire fell through and there was no rescue, but between half of the victors being in on it & Plutarch likely sacrificing his life to ensure it, Katniss is still the victor. This would cement Katniss as probably the biggest celebrity in Panem’s history and essentially make a black bag death/disappearance for her impossible. There’s lots of directions such an AU could go with from there.

[whoslaurapalmer]

lines that continue to pierce my soul

[effieotto]

Please give us more headcanons i loved all of them!!!

Okay, here we go again with more of my favorite headcanon for my pookie

-Haymitch’s nickname obsession started with Hazel when they were both kids -he called her Hazelnut

-when Haymitch won his fortune after his victory, he decided he would try to help the starving families in Twelve with his money, sneaking out food and supplies for those in critical conditions. However, when a peacekeeper saw what he was doing and whipped the man he was secretly feeding to death, Haymitch vowed to himself that he would not try to help anyone ever again -which didn’t last long, because even though he kept his distance ever since, he still made sure to always buy a bunch of useless stuff on the seam so he could overpay the traders

-Haymitch and Effie’s relationship was never more than casual sex during their time working together. They were close friends, partners, sex buddies, and that was it. While they had strong feelings for each other, it was more genuine care between partners than actual love. She was his friend -so in thirteen, when he was hurt because of her arrest, it wasn’t due to some sort of love story, but because he had just lost his closest friend as a result of something he did

-before he snatched his phone out of the wall, Haymitch had weekly phone calls with his fellow victors, like Chaff, Seeder, Finnick and Beetee

-Haymitch had a lot of panic attacks during his years mentoring, to the point of Effie developing her own method to coax him out of it when it got too bad

-He slept with Johana once when they were both absurdly drunk and that was one of the biggest regrets of his life -no one but Chaff, Jo and Finnick knew about that because he was too ashamed

-Haymitch and Effie worked really well together. Even though they were always arguing and disagreeing with each other about everything, they could always read each other minds through their eyes, predicting what they was about to do or say

-the pocket watch he is always wearing with his vests was a present from Megs for his third year as a Mentor, cause he was always late for the games related events -he pretended to recent her for mocking him about his lack of interest, but still kept the gift with fondness for the rest of his life

-during the bombing in Thirteen, Haymitch left command to stay with Sae in her bad, snugged against her side while she stroked his hair. If he was going to die, he wanted to do it with his family (or the closest thing of a family he still had)

-Haymitch liked the idea of having a family of his own someday and one of his biggest resentments was having been deprived of the chance to be a father

| sorry for taking so long to respond you |

[gudvina]

The things I do to keep you near.

Ship: Effie Trinket/Haymitch Abernathy

Fandom: Hunger Games

Chapter 3: Reaping day (or trying for a child)

Can also be read on AO3!

74th Hunger Games, part one.

The potential tributes were lined up in rows taking up the Square, the stage was ready, and the Mayor was already making his speech, but Effie couldn’t stop looking at the empty seat beside her.

Being late really hadn’t been her plan. She scheduled everything to the last millisecond, but a hovercraft malfunction came up. When she arrived in Twelve she was told there wasn’t time for her to retrieve her Victor, Peacekeepers were going to deal with that, because she needed to greet the Mayor. She’d tried to reason with the Head Peacekeeper to no avail. It was too late.

She didn’t trust others with him. Very well acquainted with his nightmares, the idea of him drunk and terrified as armed men barged into his house made her nauseous. What if he, in a drunken episode, became violent? She knew how to behave in such cases; get far away from him, let him gain consciousness of his surroundings, and never touch him.  

But the Peacekeepers weren’t her. They wouldn’t know. They would arrest him, and she’d-

The Mayor finished his speech and suddenly Haymitch appeared, staggering onto the stage. He wobbled to the chair close to her, and the smell of liquor filled her nostrils. It was a terrible entrance, but better than him being arrested. She paled when his arms rose to hold her, almost knocking down her wig.

“This is very inappropriate, Haymitch” she muttered, escort smile still tight on her lips.

He mumbled something under his breath about marriage, but the Mayor called her name, and there was nothing she could do but walk up to the podium.

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour! Oh, I love this! It’s such an honour being here, on this fine day.” she beamed at the crowd and met grey faces everywhere. Admittedly, the clouds in the sky made her statement a little dishonest. It wasn’t a fine day.

The moment of the drawing came, and she sauntered to the bowls. She did this every year. She pulled a slip of paper and walked back to the podium, already opening the slip.  

“Oh, our first tribute has a beautiful name! Primrose Everdeen!”.

She meant it. It was a beautiful, delicate, sweet name, and when she saw a tiny girl come forth, her hair styled in two braids, wearing a dress too big for her, she thought it fit her. She was pretty. So, so pretty.

“Prim!” a voice bellowed from the crowds. It was one of the older girls, quickly making her way into the crowd to reach for Primrose. With a sweeping motion, she pushed the child behind her.

“I volunteer!” the girl repeated twice more.

A volunteer in District Twelve? It was unheard of, probably the first time in decades, and she looked at the Mayor. The man’s eyes were fixed on the scene in front of them, Haymitch was out of it, and she realized it would fall on her to answer.

“Lovely! But I believe there is a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…” what was the procedure again? Why did nobody explain it to her?

“Why does it matter?... Why does it matter? Let her come forward” the Mayor’s expression was agonizing, and the urge to storm off was growing on her. This was why she was never late; everything went terribly when she did!

Her eyes fell on the Square again, and she saw small Primrose hold onto the older girl. She couldn’t hear what they said, and soon one of the boys ended up carrying the child away. The lady climbed up the stage, determined if a little stiff. Her hair was dark, her face angular, but what caught her attention were her grey eyes. They were a lighter shade than Haymitch’s, but resembled his enough that for a moment she was transfixed. As soon as she was on the podium, she snapped out of it.

Chin up!

The rest of Katniss’ introduction passed in a frenzy, the crowd raised their three fingers in a strange salute and Haymitch taunted the cameras, before falling off stage. He didn’t get up. Haymitch was unconscious and she couldn’t even check on him. The reaping couldn’t be stopped.

When the Peacekeepers took him away on a stretcher, she couldn’t wait to get over with it.

“What an exciting day!” she fixed her wig, still sporting her grin “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our boy tribute!”.

Effie marched back to the bowl trying to hold her wig in place, picked a slip of paper, and quickly retraced her steps. All she could think about was Haymitch on the floor, unconscious. It made her heart hurt worse than her face was.

“Peeta Mellark!”

From the crowd, a boy came forward. His hair was an ashy blonde colour, soft waves framing his forehead. His soft traits were tainted by a panicked expression he struggled to contain, and when he was close to the podium, she found herself touching his shoulder to guide him close to Katniss. He was very pretty and looked strong, and well-fed. Despite the disaster of a Reaping she had just presided, she thought that maybe this year Twelve might finally have a winner.

The Mayor finished his speech, and the Anthem finally ended, taking away with it her tributes.

“Well, Miss Trinket, I take you will move on to the train station?” asked the Mayor. It was polite small talk she would have usually indulged, but her nerves were frayed.

“No, I… do you have any idea where they took Mr Abernathy?”

“The clinic, I think”.

“How do I get there?”

“Well, it’s not too far. If you want, I can have my daughter walk you there”.

Not too far turned out to be, in fact, farther than she was comfortable to walk in her heels. Madge Undersee was nice company, though a bit reserved, but keeping a conversation was her forte so she managed. When they reached the clinic, she even kissed her goodbye Capitol-style, thanking her for the courtesy.

When inside everybody’s eyes were on her. She was received in a cold, stand-offish manner, and taken swiftly to Haymitch’s room. Twelve’s manners were atrocious, and if this had been another occasion, she would have reprimanded everyone in the hall. She didn’t have it in her, though. Her thoughts were filled with an unconscious Haymitch being taken away by Peacekeepers.

When she entered he was awake and lying in a bed, clearly annoyed by his situation. Seeing him relieved her immediately, and when she felt the nurse leave her relief was replaced with anger.

“Do you realise what you did in front of all Panem?” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down.

“Well hello, princess, where the fuck were you?! Weren’t you supposed to be here in the morning?”

“I have nothing to justify myself for, but for your information, we had a hovercraft malfunction that delayed my departure. When I was here it was already too late. I didn’t enjoy it any more than you did. In addition, I will not tolerate this language from you. We’ve not had a Reaping this bad since the 63rd edition!”

“Don’t get your wig in a twist, princess, it’s not like I was dying to have you here. You can go back where you came from.” he cut her off, sulking in his bed.

She sighed and sat on the visitor’s chair. The room was small, the paint was faded or in certain areas even cracked. She let her anger steam away, and she could see him do the same. His head wasn’t bleeding. He seemed alright.

“I think this year we might have a chance” she offered.

“Told you to stop getting your hopes up years ago” his voice was softer, and she relaxed.

“I know, but I have a feeling-“

“Usually it takes you a day to get attached, can’t believe you’re already doing this. I’m not drunk enough”.

“Oh, no, you have been drunk enough already! Don’t you dare touch another drink, Panem knows how your body might react after your concussion”.

“Not a concussion, sweetheart”.

“Whatever it was, not under my watch, Haymitch Abernathy!”

“Did you come just to shrill in my ear?” he asked nonchalantly.

“No, we have to go to the train station at once, and I will personally make sure you are tucked into bed when we get there”. She felt her blood rush to her face and was thankful for the white powder on it, she sounded awfully domestic. His smirk didn’t help.

“See, Effie, now I like the sound of that”.

“Don’t you get funny ideas; you were drunk and unconscious just thirty minutes ago and I’m still angry. I will not have sex with you”.

“That’s what you always say” he smirked, getting up with her help. Maybe she always said that, but this time she meant it.

“Only not to us” the boy lashed at his drink, flinging it on the floor where it shattered, wasting perfectly good liquor. His name was Peeta, or so he thought. Peeta stared at him with a stern look, and the girl beside him, Katniss?, was mirroring him.

He’d told them to stay alive and laughed, not expecting them to retaliate. But retaliate they did.

He’d needed that drink. It was the day after the Reaping and Effie was still avoiding him like the plague. Angry at his drunken acts and worried for his health she left him to the boy’s care. It brought him back to the 70th edition when she’d disappeared. He’d even tried to sneak into her bed, but she thought he was hoping for some action, so she kicked him out.

He needed her. What wife kicked her husband out when sick, anyway? Was this a Capitol thing?

Haymitch took a good look at the two in front of him and decided the best course of action was to remind them who he was. A drunkard? Maybe. But a Victor still.

He punched the boy’s jaw, knocking him from his chair, and turned to reach for another bottle. The girl took the occasion to drive her knife between his hands and the bottle, lodging it successfully in the mahogany table. Effie’s words made their way back into his mind. This was the first time any of the tributes showed anything more than a meagre will to survive, and maybe he could work with them. Maybe.

“Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?” he snorted, and saw the boy pick himself up from the floor.

Despite his usual reticence, he found himself assessing the kids. A minute later, in an uncharacteristic bout of hopefulness, he decided to promise them his help. All they had to do was not interfere with his drinking, and he’d stay sober enough to do what he could for them.

When the kids left the car he stayed there, musing. The boy was good-looking and charismatic but didn’t have the fire in him. The girl, instead, looked ready to fight. He could already spin a narrative, there, but decided against any more thinking. He got up and walked through the carts.

He knocked at her door, like he’d done a thousand times before, and heard some shuffling behind it before it opened. She was still in her pink satin gown, the one that stopped at her thighs, and her face was slightly flushed, if a little irritated.

“What is it, Haymitch?” she asked, only opening the door enough for her to peek at him.

“I promised the children I’ll stay sober to help them, maybe you weren’t wrong”.

“Told you so! And good for you, now go back to your compartment” she moved to close the door, but he put his foot down to stop her, a smug smirk on his face.

“You know, sweetheart, I am not drunk, I don’t have a concussion, and I’m sure I can do much better than your fingers, here” he pushed the panel open and made his way into the compartment, sitting on her bed. The sheets exuded her smell, and he was tempted to lean down to smell them.

Effe sighed and finally closed the door, turning towards him. Her golden, shoulder-length hair framed her face, accentuating the blue of her eyes, and her lips were pursed in worry. She was scanning him for any sign of ill health, but he was as well as ever and she seemed convinced.

She walked towards him and moved to sit on his lap, her legs falling on either side of his waist. He sighed and inhaled her scent, while her hands smoothed his hair, humming softly. It was a washed-out blonde colour, and she loved its length. Men in the Capitol wore wigs, and she’d never seen anyone’s real hair before Haymitch. Not even her own father’s. It felt different.

“I truly think this year we might have a winner” she whispered with her usual sing-song tone, softly pushing a few strands away from his face.

“I don’t know, but this is the first time I’m sure they might survive the bloodbath, and that’s… new”.

“New is good. Will you truly drink less?”

“I mean, it’s either that or a bunch of kids will try to kill me, and your fingers will melt off, so I gotta do something!” he smirked and heard her gasp. He earned a slap on his arm, but otherwise, she didn’t try to deny what she was doing.

“Well, you were sick, what was I supposed to do?” she pouted, softly grinding on him. The little minx.

“You know damn well I wasn’t sick” he grumbled, but the way she looked at him told him she wasn’t convinced.

“Sure, but I am not going to do this until we get to the penthouse. I don’t trust the children not to wander around”.

Haymitch sighed. He knew she was right. Peeta and Katniss seemed bent on sneaking around. Her usage of the word children worried him, it was something she used to do when she got attached; for some reason this year it started right after the Reaping, and he didn’t know how far she might take it.

“I’m already here, now, am I not?” he tried, his hand trailing up the hem of her skirt, hoping she’d relent.

“I said not until the penthouse, Haymitch” her voice was breathy, he could see her fight his pull, and it took all his restraint not to flip her on the bed and have his way with her.

“God, you’ll be the death of me”.

“Try not to die, I am willing to wait another few hours, not more than that. Anyways this year we also get a new pair of stylists!” she lit up, dispersing some of the tension between them.

“Yeah? No more Chip and Chop? What do we get this year?”

“Oh, you’re going to like them. Cinna and Portia are quite the novelty, you’ll see”.

“The only thing I want to see now is your naked ass, sweetheart”.

“Haymitch!” she reprimanded him, but laughed heartily and he delighted in the sound. It did things, to him, her laugh. It was a sound he heard rarely, and when he did it ripped a piece of him in smithereens and rebuilt it, making it new.

He smirked and let his hand wander over her body, noticing the way her breath quickened. It would have taken him very little to work her up and make her forget her resolve, but he saw her point, so he stopped at a little groping here and there. He could wait until they’d get to the penthouse.

And if he kissed her again, he figured he could not be blamed. She was his wife, after all.

[whatrealbeautylookslike]

Hayffie prompt- Effie and Haymitch get arrested by the Capitol after Katniss blow up the Arena and have to go through it together. It’s heartbreaking, i know… but i can’t stop imagining they being tortured in front of each other and still doing everything they can to keep the other alive and as safe as they can be….

oh my goddddddd I'm finally getting prompts. thank you so much

this is so devastating thanks I hate it.

no actually I will see what I can do. I generally HATE writing angst as a rule but idk this gets me

[coffee-or-murder]

For the super long ask meme:

Effie: 👕10, 🍽️1, 🤝9, 💓8, 🎲10

Zimri: 👕1, 📦14, 🍽️3, 💓2, 🎲11

Effie 👕10. If your character could splurge on a particular garment, what would it be? This but it needs to be More Pink and More Sparkly please and thank you.

🍽️1. What flavor would your character say their personality is? Lemonade with a shot of vodka, triple sec, and grenadine ;D Oh and that pretty sparkly food safe powder! That too. Fruity and sweet and sharp and boozy ;D

🤝9. Where is your character's comfort place? Spooning or being spooned by Tempie u_u If not with her then elbow deep in legal research or party planning. She gets in so deep with party planning every other stress sort of falls away.

💓8. What scents does your character find comforting? She likes sweet floral fruity scents the most! That or fruit and spice scents like apples and cinnamon :D

🎲10. Is there a skill your character doesn’t know they’re bad at? If videogames existed she would be amazingly awful at them. The type to just walk off the stage in Smash Bro’s while going “Did I do it? Wait where did my little blob go?? Where are they? D:”. But in universe she’s pretty aware of what skills she lacks. However she’s never tried knitting, but if she did she’d quickly find out she just makes a tangled mess. There is no saving her.

Zimri 👕1. What is your character's favorite physical trait they possess? Zimri is quite fond of all of her physical traits -she knows she’s hot shit after all it’s sort of her job- but she’s most proud of her figure. It’s hard maintaining her very pear shaped body for dance and combat and information gathering after all, but she pulls it off wonderfully.

📦14. Is there an item your character is embarrassed they own or want? Honestly? She is so hard to embarrass, nothing is really coming to mind! I think the closest thing would be that she still has the contract Avi signed to purchase her before taking her to his court and basically becoming her new dad. She pulls it out sometimes and thinks about burning it, but she misses him and his court so badly she can’t seem to get rid of it. It is a bit embarrassing because it’s basically the receipt for herself as a product, which should be an awful memory, and it mostly is but it’s also one of the last pieces of Avi’s handwriting she has left.

🍽️3. Is there a food or drink your character is unwilling to try? That depends entirely on who is in the room, who is paying for the food, and what the kitchen looks like. She’s a bit picky about food safety, but if someone paid her to eat with them she’ll eat it without complaint. She is not a fan of super crunchy hard foods though. Zimri was also raised nomadically and food was sometimes slim, so she'll eat to survive but she won't enjoy the taste.

💓2. Are there particular sounds your character is fond of? Drums and wind chimes are favorites in different ways. Drums make her feel lively and want to dance, while the chimes make her more likely to relax and close her eyes to take it in.

🎲11. Does your character have any injury stories? She once got stabbed while in bed with a visiting diplomat’s aide. Totally unexpected too. She wasn’t even trying to dig for information, she just seemed fun so she slept with her and then got stabbed! Apparently the aide had done it before, and they were able to arrest and try her for her past murders. Zimri was stronger than she was expecting for a court entertainer though, so she really only got in the one stab before Zimri was able to overpower her and call the guards. .

[mio-nika]

Effie's comics changed my entire lexicon when I'm talking abt DD.

Like, you still see me making jokes about "under arrest for not wearing socks". Or "it is a crush", or "WHERE WAS NO CEILING".

Like. Irreparable damage to my humour.

[whoslaurapalmer]

i LOVE the thought of kit and lemony doing a detective agency together so much (these two siblings who have always investigated separately finally investigating together.......) BUT. bertrand and kit being detectives and bertrand being miles really is so peak here. especially in that "minor role in canon and dies early" way. i too want him alive as much as possible and i think the two of them investigating would be a really fun turn here, like how would it go down without his death and what would be bring to the investigation, and i spent some time last night trying to figure out, if thursby's death or miles' death is more of a catalyst, but. it really is necessary, bc it's part of why sam DOES let brigid get arrested. there's like a...... principle of loyalty between sam and miles. they don't like each other a great deal, but sam still goes, That's My Partner, and i have a moral obligation to find his killer, because That's What You Do When You Lose Your Partner, especially when your partner is a detective, and that IS something i can see in kit

and atwq is technically lemony already starring in his own maltese falcon remake, and i think having a story without lemony here opens up different and tasty dynamics between everyone else, especially with beatrice. kit being in this detective role instead.........i considered lemony being like. potentially a narrator, bc i think that's fun, if lemony is narrating his sister's story, with lemony's knowledge of events and him potentially like.....misrepresenting certain aspects of the story to protect kit, to protect beatrice, even if there's no narrator role in the maltese falcon (although the book is in like third person objective and therefore there is some Universal Force As A Narrator, even maybe hammett himself, bc of sam as the pov character but there's like Zero of his thoughts, just his actions and expressions), but lemony also, doesn't NEED to be here, and it might take away from kit, and then how is lemony's character functioning not only as a narrator but as someone everyone else might know............

that gutman dialogue with esme and carmelita is so AAAAAAA...........it's everything!!!! it's so esme!!!!!!! she WOULD throw carmelita away for whatever she wanted, especially the sugar bowl!!!

i did idly wonder about like. the sugar bowl re: lemony though. with the theory that it has information that will exonerate him, and beatrice trying to get it for that purpose, but i didn't like that bc i thought it was too lemony-centric. and to me the major point of the maltese falcon is greed, and in a story about greed nobody gets what they were after, that's the whole central piece, they don't and they can't and can never get the real maltese falcon (hangfire gets the bombinating beast statue but then is literally swallowed by the physical representation of his greed.......) so it would probably make the most sense if the sugar bowl here really is empty? and/or even a fake on its own, a replica of the real sugar bowl, maybe the lid doesn't open or it's a solid piece like the fake falcon, only capable of being nicked or broken (i keep thinking of esme like. smashing the fake one. and then immediately regaining her composure and moving on to the next part of the hunt)

the kit vs esme of it all. the kit vs geraldine. the esme vs beatrice. the kit vs beatrice. geraldine vs everybody else around her. oh there's so much fun in there. about acting, selfishness, desire against greed......

r being effie is SO GOOD bc i keep picturing beatrice coming to the office and r getting to say to kit "you'll want to see her anyway, she's a knockout", beatrice IS a knockout!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! of course r would say it!!!!!! aaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!

snicket and denouement is the most perfect agency name ever and i love it with my whole entire heart. dewey being iva.................Much To Think

i started rereading the book last night and what really struck me about brigid in the opening is like. spinning this fake story about thursby, there's such a ruthlessness in it, such a betrayal, like she wasn't friends with thursby but he's in between her and something she wants so it's him or her. and it's doing this to make herself seem as innocent and naive and blameless as possible. and beatrice being that way about olaf!!!!!!!!!!!! and then beatrice doing it to everyone and using them as steps to get what she wants and then finally running into the one person who won't have it

of course we're left with beatrice killing bertrand, which breaks my heart. i don't think even any incarnation of bea is THAT terrible or that truly manipulative. like, in the way that brigid is different from gutman (i think their greed comes from separate places but i am not yet committed to that thought bc it's been a while since i've thought about them, but also their ultimate mannerisms are different, gutman even in his rage is level-headed, brigid is not), bea is different from esme, esme is the worst version of beatrice, more desperate, more cunning, more deceptive, there is a heart in beatrice that esme lacks, or just a different kind of a heart. ugg and bea as the actress that is always acting...................she really is. she really really is. maybe bertrand sees part of that acting too.

the sugar bowl as the maltese falcon

kit snicket as sam spade beatrice baudelaire as brigid o’shaughnessy

count olaf as floyd thursby duchess r as effie perine bertrand as miles archer dewey denouement as iva archer esme as casper gutman geraldine julienne as joel cairo carmelita spats as wilmer cook

[forthegothicheroine]

How other great detectives would solve the Chesapeake Ripper murders

A series I do sometimes.  For the purpose of this post, I will be assuming Hannibal does not have protagonist protection.  I will also do my best not to assume that any of these detectives have protagonist armor, either.

Columbo: Columbo is immediately suspicious when Hannibal says that he “transferred his passion for anatomy into the culinary arts.”  When Hannibal talks about his hobby of collecting news clippings about church collapses, Columbo knows for sure that only a serial killer would do that.  He keeps needling at Hannibal, being incessantly polite, asking a series of innocuous questions, mentioning that his wife has been urging him to go to therapy and can Hannibal tell him anything about that process?  Hannibal can tell he’s smarter than he seems, but doesn’t realize just how smart.  He’s also smart enough to finally come to arrest Hannibal with a full squad of burly guys with guns.  Columbo is also very sweet to Abigail and they write letters to each other after the case is over.

Phryne Fisher:  Phryne has an absolutely marvelous time investigating this case.  Hannibal takes her on dates to the opera and fine wine tastings and they have amazing sex.  She also almost has sex with Will Graham, but when he collapses on a chair and beings talking about all the troubles he’s been going through, including encephalitis symptoms, she ends up driving him to the hospital instead.  Between Will’s testimony about how Hannibal has been misleading him about his symptoms and her own secret swiping of keys, she becomes suspicious and investigates the murder house.  When Hannibal catches her, he promises that her death display will be the most beautiful one yet.  She shoots him non-fatally and he gets arrested.  (She may also be arrested for breaking and entering, but Hannibal can’t exactly claim stand-your-ground when he has a basement freezer full of body parts.)  Phryne also possibly sleeps with Alanna.

Sam Spade: I’ll be real here, Sam Spade is probably going to die.  His primary method is deliberately antagonizing people into giving him money, and Hannibal would absolutely put him in his ‘rude people’ recipe cards.  If Spade was clever, he left a dead man’s switch with Effie, and she goes to the police with the evidence folder when Spade’s body is found posed like a statue of a bird.

Sam Vimes: The moment Sam meets Hannibal he mentally classifies him as a vampire, even though he is not technically a vampire.  Hannibal keeps ‘forgetting’ and offering Sam food and drink with alcohol, talking about how harm reduction is much more viable than complete abstinence and generally trying to manipulate him into falling back down the addiction hole.  Sam gets brittle and suspicious in response.  Hannibal drugs him and tries to hypnotize him into believing he saw another character do the murders, but the Inner Watchman in Sam’s head comes to the rescue again and he slams Hannibal over the head with the nearest heavy art object.  Sybil still afterwards insists that Sam go to therapy to deal with his rage.

L: L wastes time going on dates with Hannibal and trying to trick him into implicating himself despite already having plenty of evidence, and Hannibal kills him and puts his head in a candy store.

Poirot: When Poirot attends dinner at one of Hannibal’s parties, he knows as soon as the meat touches his palette that it isn’t really rabbit.  He does his best to hide the fact that he isn’t eating, and whispers to Hastings to do the same.  When he finally has caught Hannibal in enough lies, he accuses him of murder while in a room with him, Will, Alanna, Abigail, Chilton, Able and Jack.  With so many witnesses, Hannibal maintains his cool and says that he’ll call his lawyer and see everyone in court.  When they actually investigate his house and find the human body freezer, Poirot faints.

Philip Marlowe: Every time Marlowe tries to bother Hannibal, the local cops drag him into the station and berate him for hassling a rich person.  He has long conversations with Hannibal when he does get him alone about great literature and the morality of Shakespeare characters.  Hannibal drugs him and tries to convince him he witnessed somebody else commit the murders, but Marlowe is so used to being drugged and seeing ridiculous things that he doesn’t trust any drug trip memories.  He is eventually able to catch Hannibal in the process of cleaning up after a murder, and both shoot each other.  Both survive and Hannibal gets arrested, but Hannibal taunts Marlowe that he will go the rest of his life never meeting anyone who understands him as well as he did.  Marlowe sadly agrees.

Dale Cooper: If Cooper does solve this case, it will take at least a season and a half.  It will be based less on evidence and more on Hannibal having dark energy and his name coming up when Cooper picks it out of a bag of ice cubes with initials carved onto them.  Abigail finally breaks down and confesses everything that’s happened to Cooper, and he tells her she’s not an evil person.  He and Hannibal shoot each other; both survive.  Hannibal goes to jail but continues to influence other people to commit murders from within jail.  Cooper ends up in a coma, and when he wakes up, he reports visions of a feathered stag telling him that he should look for new hair gel.

Kinsey Milhone: Kinsey inherently distrusts smug rich people, and no rich person is smugger than Hannibal.  She spends a lot of time talking to Abigail about their mutual family issues and becomes suspicious of how much her answers seem to have been worded ahead of time by Hannibal.  She tracks him and manages to find him while he’s in the process of cutting someone up.  They attack each other, and it’s pretty much a coin flip as to who survives.  If it’s Kinsey, the resulting story is called C is for Cannibal.

Miss Marple: Miss Marple thinks Hannibal dresses in such a lovely fashion, and he’s so sweet to invite her over for a glass of sherry.  She doesn’t attempt to look around his house or catch him in the act of murder or do anything dangerous, she just compares notes about what’s being said by him, Will and Abigail, and unravels a web of lies to find some definite conclusions.  Jack Crawford and the entire FBI are humiliated that a nosy old lady sitting in her living room figured everything out before they did.

[regalpotato]

I don’t wanna sound upset or maybe I’m trying to hold myself back. Ik snw is only allowed 10 eps and that restricts screen time a lot but… I thought the whole purpose for pushing the main trio was so that they can all get the spotlight. But all we’ve gotten is a lot of Chris and Spock both individually and together but like I’m getting crumbs with Una.

You're preaching to the choir, Anon.

I've been incredibly vocal (mostly on discord, a tiny bit on twitter, just not much here on tumblr) about it.

Read more, because I went off

All the interviews, articles, previews for SNW before it came out, sold this show as a Pike, Number One, and Spock show. But when it came to it, there was barely any Una. She was actively written out of a number of episodes (Memento Mori, All Those Who Wander, A Quality of Mercy - are the main culprits), and she wasn't vital to a lot of the others.

She's the first officer. No other Star Trek show in history has had this little screen time from the main cast first officer. Spock, Riker, Chakotay, Kira, T'Pol, Saru/Burnham, even god damn Ransom when the bridge characters aren't even the main ones we follow in Lower Decks (also it's funny because Ransom is voiced by Rebecca Romijn's husband), all have more screen time and more importance than the very first ever Star Trek first officer, Number One.

And it's not about my favourite not having screen time - Effie Trinket is one of my all time favourite characters and she's barely in the last THG book and I didn't get mad over it - it's that this was billed as a show where she would have screen time, and she just...didn't.

If you took her out of Season 1, nothing would change, she hasn't been the driving force of any plot except for her centric - which tbh is less about her (she's been Illyrian her whole life, and we didn't even really see her struggle with hiding it or whether or not she should risk exposing herself to save the crew) and more about a plot point (yes in episode 1, Pike was sent to rescue her, but he could easily have been sent just to rescue the other crew sans Una).

Meanwhile, if you take Chris (most episodes), La'an (Strange New Worlds, all the gorn stuff), Spock (do I even have to explain this one), Christine (Spock Amok/Serene Squall), Erica (Elysian Kingdom/A Quality of Mercy), Hemmer (most of his episodes), or Nyota (Children of the Comet/all her Hemmer friendship stuff) out of episodes, there would be vast differences to the plot and feel of the show.

I think Joseph M'Benga is possibly the only other main cast member who (aside from his centric episode) hasn't been vital to the show.

Una's mistreatment by the show hurts me a lot. She's been in my top 5 favourite Star Trek characters ever since I saw The Cage (and Discovery and Short Treks didn't change that) and I was so excited to see her and Pike work together as Captain and First Officer. AND WE'VE NOT REALLY SEEN THAT?? I think the only time we've actually seen them work together as CO/XO is the Serene Squall mutiny.

I'm really hoping Una has a bigger part in Season 2 (part of me does wonder if it's a scheduling conflict with Rebecca Romijn as she is the most famous cast member, which hopefully changed as filming went on.) because this is ridiculous. I know there’s the argument that they wanted to put more emphasis on the new characters, but Chris and Spock still got hella development, and they were already far more developed that Number One...

Though I can't imagine her arrest will last over one episode (or otherwise we're gonna get entire episodes without her in).

[uncloseted]

How long is Effy's sentence after her arrest?

Effy's crime is described as, "using illegally obtained information to create 11 million pounds in trading profits," also known as insider trading. Later, she agrees to make a statement naming Jake as her accomplice and acknowledges that she knows she'll still go to prison for her role in the trading.

In the UK, a person convicted of insider trading is liable on conviction of indictment to a fine or imprisonment for up to seven years or to both. We know that she's facing at least some jail time, but since she named Jake as an accomplice, I would guess that her sentence is under 5 years.

[whoslaurapalmer]

goddddd i always know it's coming but the end of the maltese falcon (book) gets me every time. like. the end of the movie is about greed. but the end of the book (which is also still about greed but hold on) is about. consequences. relationships. sam goes through the whole book getting this almost constant commentary from other characters about how he always gets off scot-free, no one can ever pin anything on him, he gets away with doing every just-on-the-edge-of-horrible thing he does, and being pleased about it, and part of how he ends things with brigid is sam's own desire to manipulate others to keep the control he has over his life and how he lives and making sure he gets out after all the falcon shenanigans (especially bc the only thing sam's actually guilty of there is some decent physical violence, but not murder), and then he goes to effie when it's all over, his secretary, the only person in the whole entire book sam feels something like respect for, the only person he'll meaningfully almost-apologize to, and that's when sam actually genuinely suffers consequences for what he's done. is he wrong to have brigid arrested? no, and effie knows that. but effie believed so wholeheartedly in brigid, and not just brigid but sam, and her relationship with sam, and in herself, and sam picks that up and ruins it and effie can't stand him now. she doesn't want him to touch her at all. and it's the only time he's genuinely horrified by what he's done. he spends the whole book seriously but still jokingly telling effie he's no good and her putting up with him regardless and then he has to face that he really is no good to the one person who really matters to him, to the person who used to let him get away with it, who can't anymore

[melisusthewee]

WIP Wednesday

If I still had Photoshop, I probably would have a thousand banners by now. But I don't (thanks, Apple), so all you get is text. Thank you to everyone who has tagged me so far! I'm still in the midst of working on Chapter 3 of my current post-Trespasser fic, A Good Song Never Dies so I thought I'd share another snippet from it. I feel a little like I'm dropping bread crumbs building up bits of backstory for this character, but I think (or hope!) it's working so far.

Tags are below the cut, and - as always - if you want to be added or removed, please don't hesitate to let me know!

The only thing he had come to admire was the vhenadahl, growing in the center of the district with its branches stretching beyond even the tallest roofs. Some of them were blackened and scarred, perhaps destroyed by shems in scuffles and purges, or simply choked by the sick earth it clung to by the roots. But where it bore no leaves of its own there was still colour, as woven banners and paper lanterns hung from its boughs, waving lazily in the day’s breeze and twinkling like colourful fireflies at night. Nestled amid the roots that had broken free of the ground were dozens of candles that Hawthorne was certain had been stolen gradually over time from the shemlen Chantry - a reminder to him that it was Andraste the elves here prayed to.

Hawthorne didn’t believe in Andraste. He didn’t believe in much of anything other than himself. Growing up as he did, drifting from place to place, it was difficult to really think that any one group had stumbled upon the ultimate truth. The magisters had their dragons, the Qunari had their philosophies, the humans had their Maker, and the elves had their absent gods. In the end, they were all little more than stories people told each other in order to find comfort in a vast and uncaring world. Sometimes he thought the dwarves might be the ones who had come closest to the truth, giving thanks to the earth they sprung from and believing it was to that same stone they would one day return. No Maker was around to usher anyone to his side; and if Ghilan’nain had truly once created all the beasts of the world, she had likely died long ago with the only remnants of her existence being stories told around campfires or whispered between spirits traveling the Fade.

And maybe none of it was true. Maybe everyone had gotten it all wrong. Or maybe there was some truth in all of it and it was only the names that were wrong. Did it matter that the elves here called this presence that lurked beyond their understanding the Maker? Or was it more important that they looked at the vhenadahl, recognized something very old and very kind in the world, and described it the only way they knew how?

The idea made him hesitate as he stood in the soft glow of the lanterns. The ritual he’d come to perform wouldn’t harm the tree, but it was invasive nonetheless. He was a visitor here, these were not his people, and he knew it was wrong to dig deep into their sacred spaces. But there were few places in the city where there was a ripple in the Veil, a place that pressed between this world and the Fade just enough for spirits to mingle and for Hawthorne to hear them. It was either here or he walk into the shemlen’s cathedral with all its hushed whispers and lilting songs… and almost certainly several guards in gilded plate and maille waiting to arrest him. He had no choice. It had to be here.

Tagging: @kita-lavellan @silvanils @ellie-effie @noire-pandora @arliah @morganlefaye79 @knuttydraws @drag-on-age @kittynomsdeplume @rosella-writes @nivenor-krosis @retrowondergirl @darethshirl @inquisitoracorn @cleverblackcat

[thegoblinwitchqueen]

In This Eden

Chapter: 6

Dutch Van der Linde X OC

18+

AO3

The encampment that housed the notorious Van der Linde gang was not at all as she expected. Although, Florence Barlowe did not truly have an expectation to begin with.

The young woman already knew from her many late nights spent with Buck as they discussed and tracked the transitory gang across west Elizabeth as Ike Skelding, that the Van der Linde family were not like other gangs.  Others, such as Colm O’Driscoll, consisted mostly of large factions of hardened men and not much else…horses, maybe? 

Dutch, on the other hand, preferred to keep his group small and was not opposed to the idea of housing a few women and children. 

Still, as Effie stood awkwardly outside of “her” tent while unsure of what to do at that moment, she couldn’t help but expect the sight of men clad in all black clothing skulking menacingly around the camp while armed to the teeth. But, as her dizzy vision settled back into steady normalcy, that was not what she found.

Instead, Effie took in a scene of peace and the intoxicating scent of fresh stew. 

The woman that never felt fear, never felt unsure, never worried about the thoughts or opinions of others—-suddenly felt so small and out of place. Her hands ran along the length of her suspenders as the anxiety and reality of her situation finally began to set in. 

Florence Barlowe was within unknown territory that housed the one man she despised, and not in a million years would she anticipate for her journey of revenge to end up this way. Effie had fully expected to barge in with guns hot and blazing, but now….what would she say?

Hello! Thank you for saving my life and, by the way, I’m here to kill you all in cold blood?

No. 

Effie was unarmed and still injured. If she was to say those words…they would set her untimely death in stone. To survive, she would have to come up with a believable story and alias.

“What’s your name?”

“Florence.”

“Mama, her name is Florence!”

Fuck .

The muddy child had caught the woman off guard, and because her jostled brain still struggled to keep her thoughts straight, she did not think to give him a fake name. His little boots happily collided on the muddy ground as he raced towards Abigail, who was gathering dirty clothes, to reveal the identity of the mystery woman. 

Abigail smiled and ruffled the boys hair before raising her hand in a slight wave towards the panicked woman. 

“You gave us quite a scare, Ms. Florence. ” 

Hosea Matthews . 

Effie swallowed a lump of anxiety as she recognized the older, light haired gentleman that steadily approached her. Although the drawings of his wanted posters did not do the man justice, she knew who he was immediately and without hesitation.

To see a name on a piece of paper made it easy for Effie to separate the feelings of guilt when a bounty was killed or arrested. As well, when she was out on the field, the criminal she sought to bring to justice typically tried to kill her on sight which made the act of murder very easy to carry out.

But this? To meet a highly dangerous and wanted outlaw as if they were just two regular citizens made Effie feel …uncomfortable. 

The name Hosea Matthews was known across West Elizabeth as a hardened criminal capable of murder…and yet…as he stood in front of her with hands and a face that showed the ravages of time..the reality was that he was just a man. Not a monster, but a man.

Was Dutch the same? Just a man?

“I..I’m very grateful.” The young woman mumbled while her eyes struggled to hold contact with his own piercing gaze. 

A slight smile pulled at the corner of Hosea’s thin mouth.

“Don’t thank me. I wasn’t the one to carry you here.” Hosea scoffed as he placed a hand lightly against the woman’s back to politely guide her to a simple table where a large bowl of hot stew was waiting.

If not you, then who? 

Effie parted her dry lips slightly as she debated to ask the man to recount the story of her rescue—but the saliva that flowed freely like a river from underneath her tongue begged for her to focus on more pressing matters…like food.

The woman’s empty stomach growled furiously and, without hesitation, she sat heavy onto the wooden bench. She did not even think twice about asking whether or not the bowl was meant for her. Nor did she worry that it may have been poisoned…although why would they go through the trouble of reviving her just to kill her again? Hardly practical.

Effie didn’t even mind the painful burn she received from the hot stew on the roof of her mouth!

Food was the only thing on her aching mind. 

Hosea let out a hearty chuckle as the young woman frantically scooped the first bit of sustenance she had received in three—no—four days into her cavernous mouth. 

She only stopped once or twice to take in a giant breath of fresh air through her gaping orifice just to keep her alive long enough for the next bite to be shoveled in. 

“It’s nice to see someone enjoying my food.” 

A hefty man with a thick mustache and male pattern baldness laughed through his gut as he prepared food from behind a blood stained counter. Effie, with cheeks full like a western chipmunk, smiled in slight embarrassment. 

“S-sorry.” Embarrassed, Effie swallowed and composed herself. She was so desperate for food, she had forgotten her manners. 

Although, do outlaws even use manners?

“Don’t apologize! Mister Pearson rarely gets compliments for the slop he tries to pass as food.” Hosea sat across from the young woman and lightly groaned as his knees bent. “Must have been quite a while since you’ve eaten anything, I reckon.” 

A slight nod was the only response from the young woman. She still wasn’t sure what story she was going to use as a way to explain why exactly she was half dead in the woods. So, she figured that being as quiet as possible was the best course of action. For now.

Hosea pulled a fresh cigarette from his vest pocket and lit it. Effie inhaled the last bite of her stew, though she desperately wanted to ask for seconds, and allowed her sore eyes to scan the surroundings. 

At first glance, she realized that the camp was small enough for her to traverse its whole circumference in just a few minutes. As well, Effie could see a few young women bustling around as they performed various chores and a few young men scouting or prepping their weapons. The elderly of the group were scattered throughout and minded their business. Although one older gentleman appeared to be unconscious as he laid underneath a tree with an opened whiskey in hand.

Still, just like her own group of bounty boys back in Blackwater, the members of the Van der Linde camp were of all different colors and creeds. That was something she did not expect from a criminal.

It seemed that Dutch Van der Linde was more of a progressive than his racist counterparts. Still,the racists she knew often wore suits and ties by day and pointed hoods by night…

Okay, so she’d give Dutch that at least. 

Speaking of which, where was the bastard? 

“So, where are you from?” Hosea eyed the young woman, as she glanced around, with an expression she believed as—-healthy suspicion— across his face. 

Understandable considering the circumstances. 

It’s not like they had expected for their “off the beaten path” encampment to be discovered, regardless of the situation. 

Hosea was said to be a shrewd man. And he knew that there should not have been a young woman sniffing around their camp late at night. In fact, there should not have been anyone . 

The whole thing seemed…suspicious.

He was not wrong, for the whole situation was suspicious. Effie had been on her way to destroy them, and it was by divine intervention that they had found her in the state she was in.

Luckily, any form of identification on Florence’s part had been lost somewhere amongst the rubble after Perses reared his stubborn head. And, it appeared that they did not seem to have an inclination of who she was.

Effie was safe.

For now.

However, Florence was unsure of how many people Dutch may actually have surveying the overlook, and she could not risk that satchel to be uncovered by the wrong hands.

She surmised that she would have to find it as soon as she could leave…if they would even let her.

With a stoic expression, Hosea pulled the smoke from his cigarette deep in his lungs, and waited in awkward silence for Effie’s response.  Had she not concussed her brain, she would have had no issue with finding the words to paint the fabrication she needed. But…

“Van Horn.” Effie stated. She figured she’d start with a small truth, and hoped that the story she needed would show up somewhere along the way. That’s how Buck often tricked his prey.

God…she missed him.

“That’s quite a long way from here.” Hosea lifted a brow in mistrust. “What brought you to Valentine?”

What brought you here ?

“I’m visiting my sister in Valentine.” 

A lie.

Although Effie did have a younger sister,  she had long since died from tuberculosis and her older brother was posted somewhere near San Dennis. In fact, Effie had never actually set foot in Valentine as she spent most of her bounty hunting career in West Elizabeth to be as far away from her insufferable family as humanly possible. 

In all honesty, they probably thought she had died from her love of alcohol and morphine. And Cliff sure as hell was not about to correct them out of pride and fear of a tarnished image.

“Does she know you’re here?” Again, Hosea made sure to ask his questions in a manner that made them seem innocent. However, what he really wanted to know was—

Is the law out searching for you?

“No. Actually…she’s dead.” Effie avoided the man’s curious gaze by scraping the leftover residue of the stew into bite sized spoonfuls. She was still hungry. 

“Here, darlin.” Pearson took her empty bowl and tossed a few more spoonfuls of stew in it. Effie graciously accepted. 

“You were visiting your dead sister?” Hosea would not allow for the conversation to be interrupted by bland slop. 

“Yes, she died a few years back. She’s buried in Valentine. And, since the death of my parents, no one has been there to care for her grave. I’m an orphan, with no living relatives.”

“A husband?”

Yes…unfortunately.

“No, I’m unmarried.” Now with a full stomach, Florence relaxed her stiff shoulders and embraced the feeling of calm that radiated her body. Even though she had slept for a full day, her healing body still screamed to sleep away the pain of her head and face. 

And her broken heart wanted to change the sore subject of marriage.

“I’m surprised that a woman of your age is unmarried.” Hosea crossed his arms across his chest.

“Well, my fiancé recently passed.”

Thanks to Dutch.

“I’m sorry to hear about that.” Hosea’s expression of sympathy was genuine. However, Effie felt she could no longer trust what she perceived to be true or not. After all, her incorrect assessment of Giuseppe Muldoon led to Bucks murder.

Giuseppe

Florence shot up from her seat at the table and furiously looked around the camp for any trace of the Englishman. Not only did she wish to watch his last breath leave him as her hands tightened their grip around his snake-like neck—-but he was the only person that could properly identify her.

Hosea, thoroughly confused, watched the young woman silently.

After a few moments, Effie decided that the coast was clear. No sign of the Englishman, and it seemed as though he hadn’t been there when she arrived. Maybe he was not an official member of the gang…only an associate.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” Hosea asked. 

Suddenly, Effie remembered the outlaw who had been interrogating her, and she smiled weakly.

“Yes, actually. My horse.” Effie responded with a fake expression of embarrassment. While Effie did wonder where the beast was, she was still upset with him…but he was only a horse and he did not mean to fuck everything up.

Hosea smiled and finished the last bit of his cigarette. 

“Ah yes, the dapple gray Breton.” Hosea rose from his seat and brushed the loose debris from the rotting wood from the back of his pants.. “We found him wandering with our own horses when Dutch carried you to camp. Beautiful creature. In fact, Dutch is out riding him now. He was curious as to how a young woman like yourself could handle such a brute.” 

Wait…Dutch Van der Linde carried her to camp? 

“Dutch…?” Effie felt a wave of anxiety and bitter rage fall over her body like a heavy storm cloud. Her concussed brain could not stop her from expressing the pain of her aching heart across her broken and blackened features. The man that called for the cold blooded murder of her lover was out cavorting around town on her horse?  On BUCK’S horse. “Dutch Van der Linde is out riding my horse…?” 

A smirk of triumph appeared across the outlaws face as the name of Hosea’s partner left the woman’s lips…and suddenly…Effie realized she had fallen right into the man’s trap. 

Gotcha . 

“I see…” Hosea sighed in exasperation as he approached the anxiety stricken young woman, and put a hand gently against her shoulder as she stood stiff as a board. “So you do know us?” 

“I…” Effie couldn’t speak. Hosea rubbed the tension from his neck and suddenly he didn’t seem so much like just a man anymore. 

He fucking caught her. 

Effies lips parted slightly as she scrambled to find an excuse…anything to save her. However, before the man or the young woman could continue, the familiar sound of Perses’ mighty hooves entered the clearing followed by two other horses. 

Effie looked past Hosea, and felt her heart beat faster as the blood pounded behind her ears in rage.

The dark haired man that had taken everything away from her…murdered her best friend…ruined her life—- dismounted from her lovers saddle in a quick and fluid motion. Effie felt her brows furrow angrily as she watched the devil himself give her beast a hefty pat on his thick neck before he turned to face her.

Dutch Van der Linde. 

And although she had imagined many times the words she’d say as she took his life or the fear she’d instill into his very being— 

The one thing she did not expect was for him to smile at her.

[myhauntedsalem]

William Burke and William Hare

Back in 1828 medical science was under rapid advancement. Great discoveries were being made, but unfortunately there were not enough dead bodies or cadavers as they are called, for the scientists/doctors to experiment on. Enter William Burke and William Hare, two Irish immigrants living in Scotland who quickly became entrepreneurs’ of the deadly kind. Within a ten month period, these two men killed at least 16 people and sold their bodies to medical science.

At that time, the main legal supply of corpses for anatomical purposes in the UK were of those condemned to death and dissection by the courts. Although executions were rather plentiful in those days, they still were not frequent enough to keep up with the demand on ‘modern science’ and anatomy studies. 

Body snatching became prominent, and often that would also fail, because after a while graveyards took security measures to ensure the fresh graves were not dug up.

Both Burke and Hare immigrated to Scotland to work as laborer’s on the Union Canal. They met when Burke moved in to the same area as Hare’s wife’s boarding house. Both of dubious character, they quickly became fast friends.

A tenant at the boarding house, an old army pensioner passed away of natural causes. Hare knew that the old soldier didn’t have anyone who would look for him, so he arranged, with the help of Burke, to fill the body with bark and sell the body to Dr. Robert Knox, Edinburgh’s leading anatomist, who drew large crowds to his dissections at the University of Edinburgh, for a fee.

This seemed like such a simple way to earn a good deal of money, that evil plans began to hatch in their heads. Before long they had chosen a victim, Joseph, a tenant at the boarding house who was very ill. They spent some time with him, got him roaring drunk on whisky, and then suffocated him.

The next victim was a woman. Abigail Simpson was an older lady from the village of Gilmerton. They invited her in off the street to spend the night, and then also intoxicated her with alcohol before smothering her. Her body was placed in a tea-chest and a clandestine meeting was arranged with a porter to exchange the body.

Two more murders were committed within relatively quick succession. Hare’s wife orchestrated one murder, ensuring the victim was intoxicated and stayed that way until her husband arrived home to finish the job. The next was murdered by Burke, acting on his own.

Burke then met two women at a part of Edinburgh known as Canongate, Mary Paterson and Janet Brown. It is probably these two ladies were prostitutes. 

Brown was uncomfortable when an argument broke out between Burke and his mistress, so she left. Paterson stayed and unfortunately met her demise.

Effie, a scavenger who sold scraps of leather was the next victim, and the one after that was a drunk woman who was so close to being arrested, only to have Burke save her by saying they knew her and could return her to her lodging. Instead he delivered her body to the medical school.

An old lady and her mute son were the next unfortunates. These deaths differed in that they overdosed the old lady on painkillers, but the boy got stretched over Hare’s knee until his back broke. What a horrible way to die! Hare later said that the way he killed that boy disturbed him the most out of all the deaths he committed.

Next were a Mrs. Hostler and Ann Dougal, a cousin of Burke’s mistress. Mary Haldane, a former lodger who had asked to sleep in their stable was the next victim, and then Mary’s daughter, Peggy, a few days later, when she came around to ask if they had seen her mother.

James Wilson, known as Daft Jamie was the next victim. He was a mentally disabled youth of about 18 years when he was murdered. The mistake they made with this victim was that he was a familiar figure on the streets, so when he went missing, it was noticed, and his body was recognized when Dr. Knox uncovered it. The Doctor denied that it was Jamie and quickly dissected him to make him no longer recognizable.

The last victim was Mary Docherty, who was invited into the lodging house, and given supper and some drinks, but whose death was delayed due to the presence of other lodgers, the Grays, there at the time. neighbor’s reported later in the evening that they heard the sounds of a struggle, and a woman’s voice crying out “Murder!”

Their killing spree was up! The next day the Gray’s returned. Suspicious at the behavior of Burke, who would not let them approach a bed where Mrs. Gray had left a stocking, she checked it later in the evening when they were alone in the residence, and found the body of Mary Docherty under it. They immediately went to the police to report the murder, and that is how Burke and Hare, together with Burke’s mistress and Hare’s wife, were arrested.

Burke and his mistress McDougal faced three charges of murder. Their trial lasted 24 hours, and found Burke guilty, but McDougal not proven so.

At 8.15am on 28 January, 1829 Burke was hanged in front of an enormous crowd. In a show of irony, the next day his body was publically dissected.

So what happened to Hare? Well, he was given the chance for immunity if he served as a witness against his best friend. Naturally he did it, and spent the rest of his life fleeing angry mobs, whenever he was recognized in towns all throughout the United Kingdom.

[tickled-catastrophe]

it’s all become clear why we’re three weeks into this armie hammer drama and that piece of shit still hasn’t been arrested.  apparently effie admitted on insta to finding a folder on his computer that was packed full of explicit images of underage girls, and she turned a blind eye.  so much for protecting women, huh?  funny thing is, she could be charged with failing to report a crime, and face six months in jail! that, ladies, gents and nonbinaries, is why she hasn’t taken this to the authorities.  and all you charmies out there still defending this dumpster fire of a person, wake the fuck up already!