#footage licensing

[sneepsnorp3d]

major traffic incident

[personinthepalace]

Otis remembers the 21st night of September

[crescentfool]

doing things outside of your usual is such a humbling experience...

[iwatcheditbegin]

Just saw an idiot say the black dog is about John M and give a long explanation. I need these people gone.

[filmcourage]

What My First Movie Taught Me About Negotiation And Licensing - Brandon Loran Maxwell

Watch the video interview on YouTube here.

[pricetagged]

This is so niche, so so niche, but has anyone ever heard of the 'pedal pump/car stuck girls' kink where men pay for videos of women who have car trouble?

Anyway, that's Price. I will not be taking questions.

I will, however, elaborate. The first time he sees one, it has him clenching his knuckles and sucking in through his teeth. Pretty girl flooding her engine and gazing dolefully at her dash camera, eyebrows pinched and confused. Soon, he falls down the rabbit hole.

Eventually, he settles on one creator. A smaller one, unassuming. Her footage isn't well-produced and edited. She's not made-up and plucked and preened. She looks like any of the women he drives past on the street. She's perfect—

He subscribes. Clicks on the VIP package which offers the opportunity to chat and send requests.

[27.12.24]

>>JP141CE: That blue dress is beautiful on you. Wear it in the next video.

[13.01.25]

>>JP141CE: You need to adjust your seat angle. Gonna give yourself an injury if you make a hard stop.

[24.01.25]

>>JP141CE: Take the camera out of the car, sweetheart. Let us see you pop the hood and try to fix it.

Your camera work is shaky with you clamouring out and edging around the door. But if he pauses at just the right frame—

There. Your license plate.

Got you.

[radioconstructed]

⌖ ANYONE REMEMBER when I LARPED as a RAE DUNN COLLECTOR for a WEEK to get GOOD CONTENT of me BRAWLING with all the soccer moms in a V.J. MAXX? THAT WAS FUN!

⌖ ANYWAY! I STILL HAVE ALL THE STUFF! WHO WANTS? Make me a DEAL!

[temporarywelcome]

Smooth Criminal - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Spencer has been extremely secretive about his girlfriend of the past year, so much so that even Garcia can't find information on her. Till today, and her.... interesting ...past leaves everyone flabbergasted.

Warnings: light swearing

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

Spencer’s had a girlfriend.

In fact, he’s had a girlfriend for almost a year at this point and she has not met his friends even once. He was so secretive with this girlfriend that the rest of the BAU couldn’t get any information about her. Not even a name, leaving Garcia in anguish. 

Everyone was dying to know about this mystery girl that has taken up most of the boy genius’ free time. 

And finally, Garcia cracked the code. 

As the team walked down the halls of work towards the exit, all exhausted and ready to go home, Morgan asked if Spencer had needed a ride.

“It’s pretty late to take a taxi,” Morgan had said. Everyone knows Reid barely drives for whatever reason. He frequently took taxis or carpooled.

Reid just shook his head, “It’s fine, thank you.” 

And that was that.

However, Garcia didn’t remember seeing him flag down a taxi. She didn’t remember seeing him walk off into the night.

And so she found herself in front of her computer typing away, already having a feeling as to how Reid left the office. She could get in trouble for this…

If she got caught.

But she won’t, because she’s Penelope Garcia,the most amazing tech analyst to grace the Earth. 

And there it was. 

She watched the camera footage of the parking garage, following Spencer’s movements of the night before, camera to camera. She followed him, until he stopped next to a car, opening the passenger side and getting in.

Then the car drove off.

Someone drove into the parking lot with the intention of picking up Spencer. And she was pretty sure she knew who. Especially because this didn’t seem like a random occurrence. Going back a few weeks (she really needed a hobby it seemed), she found this car would pick Spencer up quite frequently. 

So she tracked the license plate, finally finding the name of this mystery woman. Y/N L/N. And that’s when Garcia fell down the rabbit hole…

That same day, Morgan stood in front of Spencer’s desk, arms crossed with an annoying smirk on his face. He obviously had something to say. 

“Morgan, I feel you hovering,” Spencer muttered, closing the manila folder on his desk and looking up at his colleague. “What is it?”

“So… what are you doing after work? Wanna get some beers?”

“No thanks, I have plans already.”

“Oh, yeah? With who?” 

“With-” Spencer’s eyes narrowed at Morgan in suspicion, “Why are you asking?”

“Answering a question with a question, huh?” Morgan chuckled, “C’mon, Reid, are you going to be with your little girlfriend?” 

“She’s quite tall actually,” 

“You know what I mean,” he turned to walk away, “Have fun with Y/N, pretty boy,” 

“What the f-” Reid gasped as Morgan stalked off, “How do you know her name?!” 

Morgan ignored his question, Rossi coming at him next to bother him. 

Straight from Garcia’s computer-adorned office. 

“A criminal, Reid?” Rossi exclaimed, slapping a file down onto his desk.

“Garcia told you?!” Spencer groaned, head going into his hands. “I can’t have any privacy?”

“Hey, look at me!” Rossi was completely appalled by the information he had found, “You’re an FBI agent! Dating a criminal!”

“Weren’t you a mobster or are we just going to forget that…?” JJ grumbled from her own desk, averting her gaze when Rossi shot her a look. 

Spencer dropped his hands from his face, “Rossi, look-”

“I bet that’s why you’ve been so secretive,” Dave concluded, “Because you knew Garcia would find out about your felon girlfriend. Look, she even gave me printouts,” He gestured to the file he threw onto Spencer’s desk. 

“She did petty crimes,” Spencer scoffed in defense of his girlfriend. 

“She robbed people for sport. Her mother was wealthy. Her father was a cop.” 

“Daughter of a cop, girlfriend of an FBI agent, and a robber? Interesting,” Prentiss joined the interrogation. 

“Where did you come from…” Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “She didn’t do it for sport. She just… well…”

“She’s a diagnosed kleptomaniac,” Rossi opened the file and pulled out a document of proof, “Now how the hell did you manage to date a kleptomaniac?”

Spencer opened his mouth to answer, but Prentiss answered for him, “They knew each other in high school back in Vegas,” she said, looking through the folder for the information Garcia told her. 

“Yes,” Spencer grumbled, “She was a freshman when I was a senior.”

“When you were twelve?” Rossi deadpanned. 

“Yes,” he repeated, “She actually helped me a lot with bullies.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “She stole a lot of their things…” 

“And you find that attractive?” Rossi asked. 

“No, I didn’t find anything attractive when I was twelve,” Spencer shot back, “I only knew her for that one year before I graduated and left. We reconnected last year and-”

“Ah, yes, two years after she had to be bailed out of jail for stealing from a gas station.” said Rossi, “Not even a good crime,”

“What would constitute for a good crime?” Prentiss wondered out loud.

“A bank or something.” Rossi replied, “Anyway-”

“I mean she did rob a bank before-” Spencer paused, then clamped his mouth shut. 

Rossi and Prentiss exchanged glances, before making eye contact with JJ as well, who was now interested in the conversation. 

“She what” it didn’t even sound like a question coming out of Rossi’s mouth. 

Spencer quickly went to his girlfriend’s defense, “Not at gunpoint or anything! She just, uh, worked at the bank.”

“Jesus Christ,” Prentiss whistled, “Now this is intriguing,”

“I do not wish to speak about my girlfriend’s crimes anymore,” 

“Well we do,” Rossi grumbled, “So I’m assuming she hasn’t committed any more crimes?”

Spencer’s silence made Dave and Emily’s eyes widen. 

“You’re dating a current criminal-?” Emily began.

“Okay, look,” At this point, Spencer just wanted to leave and see his girlfriend, “Due to suffering from her kleptomania, her desire to steal is uncontrollable. Even when we met, she would constantly steal but return the object without the person knowing. I’ll admit, some of the robberies I’ve been… informed about, seem like they were more for fun, but that’s in the past, yeah?” 

“Yeah…” Emily wasn’t sure she should be convinced. 

“Yeah. Okay, I’m leaving now.” Spencer stood up, eyeing the file in Rossi’s hand, “And can you please get rid of that?”

“Well, can we meet her?” JJ asked from her desk, standing as well, “I didn’t stalk her like everyone else, but I’m still intrigued.”

“Thank you for being normal, JJ,” Spencer sighed, grabbing his bag.

Garcia burst out of her office, a devious look on her face, “Just looked at the cameras… A certain car is here waiting for Reid.” 

Spencer muttered under his breath as he sped off, already hearing footsteps following. He could hear Garcia tell Y/N’s whole life story to the group of Rossi, Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan who rejoined the group. 

“She’s a dancer in a big theatre a few cities over,” Garcia babbled, “They just finished Swan Lake. She Odette and everything! Oh and…”

Jesus Christ. 

“...and the last thing I found was that she used to run a Girls’ Generation blog,” Garcia finished.

“What’s that?” Morgan asked. 

“Girl group. She really likes Jessica, but she left or got kicked out or something. I learned so much girl group lore today.” 

“I also like Jessica’s sister, Krystal. She’s in a different group though,”

The team all froze, heads snapping comically at the same time to the owner of the voice. Y/N, the kleptomaniac that has somehow stolen Spencer Reid’s heart. She was leaning against her fancy car (Rossi pondered if it were stolen). 

“I had a blog for that group too,” she added, grinning at Garcia. She held out her arms, Reid shyly shuffling into her embrace. “But, well, I’d like to not remember either blog,” she whispered a ‘hey baby’ to Spencer, who mumbled something back, clearly embarrassed. 

“Um,” he cleared his throat, “Y/N, this is my team. Well, most of the team. Hotch isn’t here, thank God,” 

Y/N laughed, “They’ve been bothering you, baby? I’m guessing Penelope was the one who found out about me…” she scanned the small group and gestured towards Garcia, “You,” faced the others, “You’re Derek Morgan… Jennifer J… I’m not gonna lie, I can’t pronounce your last name-” JJ raised a brow. “-Emily Prentiss, and David Rossi.” she pointed out each agent before eyeing Garcia again, “You’re not the only stalker.” 

“Can we go now?” Spencer muttered, face already red, “I’m tired,” 

“Yeah, of course,” Y/N nodded. She looked at the team again, “It seems I’ve become a chauffeur, as this princess does not like to drive.” 

“Yeah, I’m gone,” Spencer grumbled, getting into the passenger seat.

“Oh, he so hates us now,” Morgan chuckled. 

Y/N shook her head, “Nah, he loves you guys. Well, as you all know, I’m Y/N,” She held out a hand to shake, politely shaking each member’s hand. “Should get going before said princess gets cranky,” She turned, heading back to the driver’s seat. “Oh yeah, Dave?” she looked over her shoulder and tossed a pair of keys at Rossi, who caught them.

His keys.

“Sorry,” she got into the car and drove off. 

“Kleptomaniac,” he said in awe, “She’s fast.”

“Didn’t even notice,” Emily agreed, watching the car as it created distance. 

“I don’t know how I feel about her,” JJ muttered, biting her lip, “I mean, is my name really that hard to pronounce?”

“Not at all,” said Garcia, “Spell, maybe,” 

_________________________

Once Y/N got back into the car, she noticed Spencer had turned off the music she had playing. “Um, Jessica was speaking,” she said jokingly.

He glanced at her, “Tell Jessica I apologize,” he said dryly. She was sure his team thought he was such a sweetheart, but damn, he gets cranky. Perhaps he saves that specially for her. 

“I’m guessing they saw my… record?”

“Mhm, Garcia made printouts,” 

“Ah, so they know about the bank incident…”

“One of them.”

“It won’t take long for them to find out about the other incidents,” she laughed. 

Spencer groaned, “I’m never going to hear the end of it… Now why did I decide dating a kleptomaniac was okay?”

Y/N just grinned, “Cuz I’m a smooth criminal, huh?” 

“Corny,” he grumbled, but the corners of his lips curled up. 

“Annie are you okay… are you okay…” Y/N trailed off, not knowing the lyrics. 

Spencer giggled like a kid; only she made him feel that way, “I don’t think Michael Jackson would appreciate that cover,”

“I don’t think Jessica would appreciate being silenced,” Y/N reached out, raising the volume of the music a tiny bit.

“Must we always speak of this woman as if we know her personally?” 

“Yes,”

--------

check out my pinned post for requests :)

[ajortga]

(over) protective

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

summary: jenna has never let you out of her sight after she almost lost you, even during the most unnecessary times.

word count: 2.4k+

warnings: little angst, mentions of blood, injuries, near character death? knives, kidnapping mentions, mostly fluff after the parts inspired by a good girl's guide to murder pass, jenna being a silly girl

based off request! the start was a little rushed:(

-

Where r goes missing for a month and when she was found somewhere kidnapped or smthng Jenna has been so very very VERY protective of r and has NEVER let r out of her sight. Thats all tyyy

-

Most likely dead.

That’s the word Jenna couldn’t stop hearing on the news once the 72 hour mark hit on the news. 

Dead, dead, dead. 

She couldn’t bear it, it made her stomach stir wildly, her breath quickening like she just ran a 20k race. 

The first three days a person goes missing is the most important, as those hours go up, the likelihood of a person being found decreases.

The likelihood of you being found decreases by a landslide each time Jenna sees the clock hit another hour, anxiety filling her belly even though it was filled enough.

She wishes that she would have noticed the signs sooner. You weren’t home for four hours after going to run some errands.

You said it would be quick.

Jenna just brushed it off that you took some time off for yourself for that time, maybe got a massage. You always did that. She wished that she would have called you instead of texted you the first hour you were gone. You always answer her calls, maybe then she would’ve noticed that something was wrong. If you didn’t answer, you’d call her back just a little moment after.

She wished that she would've noticed that something was wrong when the signs were right in front of her.

Sweat dripped down her forehead during those 3 nights. 3 nights of restless movements and praying that you would be okay. What would she do if you weren’t? No, Jenna couldn’t think like that. She hoped that you just decided to get time to yourself for a while, she really hoped that would be the case. 

The police came with little solutions. It was likely that you ran away or got kidnapped. Jenna couldn’t bear to hear the second part if evidence supported it. 

Endless ticks of the clock were slow, yet as slow as they were, she hoped that it could mean that you could be found faster since the clock was ticking so slowly. But it just wasn’t like that.

72 hours turns into a week. Then 3. And by the time Jenna feels like she’s going to mentally kill herself, she finds out. As soon as the sheriffs send her a call, she’s busting out of her apartment, going speeds that would get her a ticket, two if she were lucky.

The police had told her you were kidnapped. They had gotten a lead when your girlfriend told them that you went out for some errands. They traced back to the security footage that was available. They searched all stores that could possibly have a slither of Sure enough, after a few days of waiting, footage from multiple stores were sent back. 

Replays and replays. The day when your body was found is when he found you, about to enter your car after stuffing bags of groceries. A strong pair of arms dragging you away as they shoved chemicals, most likely chloroform into your mouth.

But who was he? Who was this man that dragged you away as your kicks and struggles lessened, your eyes rolling back when you began to pass out?

The killer was masked, but they weren’t slick enough, of course when they drove away, they were stupid enough (Jenna was so glad for this) to drive a licensed car that belonged to them.

They may have found the killer, but it would take even longer to find you.

How the hell did it take them a month to be able to find you? That’s 10 times as much as 72 hours.

-

You were found, unconscious and limp in a secluded area 25 minutes away from the city. You were taped against the wall so you couldn't move. Fresh looking bloody wounds and gashes littered all over your body. Even the police couldn’t recognize you with the blood covering your shaking figure. 

The body they found was cold, starved, maybe a cracker or two per meal, you were so malnourished.

It was scary. So so scary. As soon as Jenna came to the scene, she was sobbing. Sobbing because a part of her thought you would die.

The building was small, gray, locked doors and broken windows. You had tried to get out, police told her from how the upper windows were shattered. But as soon as you did, you were dragged back. Duct taped even further against poles surrounding you, a rope barely strangling you, a knife sinking through every piece of untouched skin so you were in too much agony to move. They caught your kidnapper. Caught him before he could escape or hurt anyone else. If he was the cause of a disappearance for someone else, there would be someone like Jenna, hopeless and scared. Jenna was too tired and terrified to feel glad. But someone wouldn’t have to live through what Jenna did for a month, someone wouldn’t have to live like you did for a month.

“Oh my god!” The brunette girl wailed as she pushed out of medics' ways, seeing your pale body against a stretcher. “Y/N,” she cried, cupping your blood-stained face with her hands. “Wake up, it’s okay! I’m here.” 

An oxygen mask was covering your face, helping you breathe properly. This was the first time in weeks you were able to breathe fresh air. You couldn’t get proper airflow from how tightly your kidnapper tied tape around your neck. Your eyes barely open, catching a blurry sight of your girlfriend, her tears dripping on your teared up sweater before fluttering closed again.

“You can’t go,” you hear, before you nod off.

-

Jenna found out that your kidnapper was an obsessive and mentally insane fan of hers. He tracked you down as soon as he found out she was off limits and admitted he was planning to kill you. She didn’t even know how he tracked you, must’ve waited till paparazzi released photos and moved to the area nearby.

It made her sweat and stir with guilt, knowing that it was her fault that you could’ve been in massive danger. You were in massive danger, just saved at the right time. It might haunt her for years.

When you wake up, bright hospital lights greet you as you make a surprised and weak groan. The first thing you see when you open your eyes is those freckles you know all too well, cupping your cheeks as you whine from the sting of the cuts.

She’s rubbing your cheeks, caressing your neck, ruffling your hair, looking down at you with worried eyes. You feel as though she might cry when she’s shaking your body. “Y/N? Baby, are you awake?” 

“Mhh,” you mumble, squinting around the room as the steady monitor of your heart beeps through your ears.

“Hey, stop moving.” Jenna gently pushes you back onto the bed as your eyes look around in confusion. “Fuck, you scared me so badly,” she sniffles, wiping her tears as she grips onto your hand tightly. “I thought you died.”

If you two weren’t in this situation, you’d think it’s cute and silly how protective she was over you. But she was right, you could’ve died. You were trapped in a room with a kidnapper that wanted to kill you. The smallest windows, doors that were locked shut, and your vision was taken away from you most of the time, except when he fed you. It was basically crackers and the littlest amount of water. He fed you a little more when the two week mark hit, when you were basically a ragdoll.

The terrifying moments that would flash into your mind, creep into your dreams and turn your slumber into a nightmare would haunt you for months. Even when you managed to get out, he found you and hurt you so badly that you couldn’t move anymore. 

Jenna could tell you weren’t trying to show her you were scared. You didn’t want to make her more worried. 

"I'm never letting you leave my sight again."

-

When you got discharged from the hospital, Jenna made sure to stick with you wherever you went. 

As you make a tiny grunt and reach for the sugar on the top shelf, Jenna shrieks. “Nope! Not happening, I can get it.” She says, beginning to grab a big ass ladder from outside.

“Baby, I don’t think that’s necessary.. I can get it, you’re shorter than me and it’ll take a lot more work-”

Jenna comes back from the hallway, carrying a big ladder with her tiny hands, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she places it on the floor tile. She begins to climb up and grab the sugar. “You need to rest that body.”

You sigh, “Baby, I’m a month healed-”

“Are your injuries fully healed?” She raises an eyebrow at you.

“Well.. No but the doctor said-”

“Then I’m not letting you overstretch a single muscle, we can’t let those stitches rip, baby. Cuddles are the only exception.”

You roll your eyes, let her take the win on this one.

-

“I’m gonna go get us some watermelon! It’s hot, be right back!” You call out, grabbing your keys as you turn to go to open the door, except your girlfriend is already there.

“Nuh uh, not happening. Let’s go.” She says, extending her hand out to you for you to hold. You look at her with a confused expression, “Baby, we already have kiwi, I can go by my-” She interrupts you, “No, the last time you went to go out, you didn’t fucking come back for a month from that psycho. We are going together, I don’t care about kiwis right now. I care that if someone were to kidnap you, they’d have to go through me first.” Jenna pulls out a pair of boxing gloves from her tote bag.

“Where the hell did you get those?”

“On set! So I can defend you and don’t have to scratch my arms in the process.”

A deep breath leaves your lips as she shakes her hand, impatient to feel yours in hers. “Fine, you win. But don’t be upset if a kidnapper manages to take off those boxing gloves within seconds and take your short body away.”

She huffs, tugging your arm to the grocery store.

-

“Aliyah?” You blink, looking at the younger Ortega in your apartment. “What are you doing here?” You itch a bandaid as she plays with her hair.

“Jenna said I have to play bodyguard,” she says, shaking her head. “This girl had to film and didn’t want you to be alone.”

Your nose twitches.

“I could’ve just driven to your house, I don’t want us to both get kidnapped,” you joke.

Aliyah snorts, “I did think about that, but Jenna said no cause she didn’t want you to be in danger if you get into your car and somehow you get taken away.”

That’s just Jenna. Jenna Ortega. Sometimes you feel as if you should feel a little annoyed when she never lets you go alone anywhere. But you never can, you’re way too in love to be frustrated at your baby. If anything, it gives you an excuse to cling to her everywhere you go without being told off.

“You wanna bake?”

Aliyah looks at the kitchen as she shrugs, “Sure. Then I can tell Jenna we wanted to have a heating pan to defend ourselves and decided to bake while we were at it.”

-

"He looks suspicious." Your girlfriend says, taking a step forward and making sure you're behind her while she glares daggers at the man.

Sometimes you wish she was taller, because right now, she looks like a child you're babysitting.

She leans back a little too hard onto your front and you wince.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Shh, I'm sorry." She says with a frown, softly rubbing your healing wounds against your stomach.

"Baby, I think he's just staring because you have a butterfly knife out and about, looking like you're going to murder him." You admit, gesturing to the knife that was point sided up.

"That could be a reason. But I will fight if he comes near!"

"Jenna, we're standing in front of an entrance for a coffee shop. The poor man just wants to get coffee."

The freckled cheek girl turns to see what you're talking about and notices the glass door behind you two. "Oh shit."

You drag her wrist gently as you two step to the side, you give the man an empathetic smile. He nervously looks at Jenna and runs into the coffee shop.

"Why are you still staring at that man? And put that knife away!" You smack her arm lightly as she goes "Hey!" and closes the knife.

-

“Jenna, do you seriously have to be in the same stall as me while we go to the bathroom?” You say quietly, looking up at her as she stares at you intently while you do your business. “Hey, no eyes here, invasion of privacy. Couldn’t you have waited right outside the stall?”

Her freckled nose wrinkles, “And risk someone grabbing you from behind?” She waddles to the wall behind the toilet as she knocks. “I’m 500% sure that this wall can slide and someone is just waiting to take my baby, not happening!”

“Jen-” you sigh, a grin spreading across your lips, “At this point, I think you’re just making an excuse to stare at me pee.”

She gasps sarcastically, making a pfft noise. “Oh yeah, for sure. I just love watching you go to the bathroom in this cramped stall.” She mocks, her cheeks a little red.

“I know, I must be a beauty.”

You hear the restroom door open as you flush. “Dude, I don’t even think you can fit with me in here. It's so small. ”

Jenna rolls her eyes, an annoyed whine escaping her lips. “Well, it is a little tight in here.”

As you two exit the stall, a lady waiting in line looks at you both with a grimace. Confusion lingers in her features before you can tell that she’s thinking something different than what actually happened. The faucet turns on as cold water and bubbly soap cleanses your scarred hands. You giggle at the picture of that weirded-out look the poor lady gave you two. After you shut it off, you pull Jenna closer and cup a hand against her ear, whispering, “I think the person that was waiting in line thinks we just had sex in that stall.”

[blueiscoool]

Thieves use Explosives to Steal Gold 'Masterpieces' From Dutch Museum

Thieves have stolen four ancient artifacts, including an approximately 2,500-year-old gold helmet, after using explosives to break into a museum in the Netherlands.

The daring heist took place at Drents Museum in Assen during the early hours of Saturday morning, according to Dutch police, who said they received a report of an explosion at 3:45 a.m. local time.

CCTV footage released by police shows the suspects opening an exterior door before a blast sends sparks and smoke into the air. The thieves made off with three gold bracelets, dating from around 50 BC, as well as the 5th-century BC Helmet of Cotofenesti, a historically important artifact on loan from the National History Museum of Romania in Bucharest.

The items were part of an exhibition about the Dacians, an ancient society that occupied much of present-day Romania before being conquered by the Romans. On show since July, “Dacia: Empire of Gold and Silver” featured treasures borrowed from institutions across Romania.

In a press release on its website, Drents Museum described the Helmet of Cotofenesti — which was discovered in a Romanian village almost a century ago — as a “masterpiece.” Its design features mythological scenes and a pair of eyes, located above the wearers’, that were thought to deter enemies during battle while protecting against the “evil eye.”

The exhibition was set to conclude Sunday, though Drents Museum remained closed through the weekend due to the robbery. Its premises were damaged by the explosion, though no injuries were reported, the museum said.

Dutch police announced that they are working with global police agency Interpol and had, as of Sunday, received more than 50 tip-offs. Investigators are currently looking for information about a gray car that was stolen from the nearby city of Alkmaar earlier in the week and was discovered around four miles from the crime scene, on fire, shortly after the overnight heist.

Police believe the suspects abandoned the vehicle, which had stolen license plates, and fled in a different getaway car.

In a press statement, Drents Museum’s general director Harry Tupan, described the incident as a “dark day” — both for his institution and the National History Museum of Romania.

“We are intensely shocked by the events last night at the museum,” he added. “In its 170-year existence, there has never been such a major incident. It also gives us enormous sadness towards our colleagues in Romania.”

By Oscar Holland.

[bbunnyyy]

All The Stars~ PT.2

BAKUGOU X SECRET ADMIRER PT.2

A/N: I didn't expect the prequel to this to get as much attention as it did. I'm so grateful you guys liked it, and I hope you'll enjoy this one too. <333

☁︎ [You and Bakugou were always head to head, fighting for the top spot.

The tension between you and Bakugou was firey, pushing both of you as well as 1A to perform better. Aizawa Sensei secretly appreciated the effect the both of you had on the rest of the class- he would let you both drop detention for disrupting the class for the 7th time in a row.

Your admiration for Bakugou started when you saw him save civilians from a falling building before he had his license. He was chewed out for it endlessly- not that he cared. You observed from the sidelines, noting he wasn't as heartless nor avoidant as you had previously thought.] ☁︎

ALL THE STARS~ PT.1 | ALL THE STARS~ PT.3

Katsuki Bakugou found himself looking forward to Wednesdays.

Wednesdays? That's a weird day to look forward to, apart from art class or PE or something. As the weeks progressed, so did the number of gifts in Bakugou's locker- with Bakugou's increasing frustration, of course. The gifts were obviously from one person. "It ain't even close to Valentine's Day, which blockhead is causing all this trouble?" Bakugou'd answer irritably when questioned. Lucky for you, you convinced Hatsume to help you delete the footage when you'd pick his locker open.

His secret admirer. What if it was a prank? What if it was one of his peers? What if it was some crazy stalker like Toga? He found himself scared again. Scared of being hurt. After being kidnapped by the League, his anxiety and nightmares made him spiral. To wake up in a cold sweat at 4:23 was now a habit. He'd sulk and bury his head into his pillow as if it'd absorb his anger. All he could think about these nights was this secret admirer of his. They were really something, THE great dynamite king killer blah blah Bakugou found himself staying up at night, face flushed as he thought of them.

BAKUGOU woke up drenched in his own sweat again. His bedsheets were damp with sweat as the air around him was stuffy. Relief washed over him as he slumped back against the wall and realised it was a nightmare. Just a stupid nightmare. He placed his feet on the cold tiles on the floor, deciding to go for a run.

☾

His mind was foggy- with thoughts of his secret admirer. He'd hate to admit that those 'high protein chocolates' helped him buff up and increase his stamina as well. The cool air rustled through the trees along the path he jogged. He saw someone sleeping under one of the trees as the sun was rising, the light illuminating the person. The nearer he got, the faster his heart beat.

The soft rays of the sun glazed over your skin like honey. You were fast asleep on the soft grass, mouth slightly open. Katsuki narrowed his eyes at your sight- he was very vocal about how much he hated you. Though obvious to you and the rest of the Bakusquad that he had a soft spot for you. Passing you cold water during breaks, buying you a soda from the nearest vending machine after a long day of patrolling during your internship. "It's only so that they can try to become better than me, it's funny to watch them try." He'd say.

Whatever he felt or said, it was hard to deny you were attractive. Your pretty eyes, your soft hair, your beautiful smile.

He'd tilt his head as he watched you from his desk as you giggled alongside Mina as you laughed at another one of Kaminari's pranks. He loved how your eyes would light up at seeing your favourite side dishes on the menu at the cafeteria and the cute expressions you made while eating, the way your nose danced as you chewed on the food. And right now, he loved how your hair spread out on the grass as you dreamt on.

Noticing a blueish diary next to you, his body moved before he could register. The first few pages were filled with sketches of cats and pros, along with some classmates. He sat down cross-legged next to you, careful not to wake you as he flipped through the diary.

Katsuki Fucking Bakugou knew darn well he was wrong- and that made him feel some type of way. Curiosity blew up the cat?

His warm fingers traced the sketches as his face heated up despite the morning chill. He leaned against the bark of the tree, propping the book on his knees. A slip of neon paper fell out as he admired the sketches- the neon orange paste-it drifted onto the dewy grass. Bakugou picked it up, noting the familiarity. There were only three words on the neon note.

☾

Katsuki ran towards the dorms with your diary in his hand, beet red. He shook his head as those words swam through his mind- such a simple arrangement of three words, really.

High Protein Chocolate.

A/N: PT.3 coming soon, please stay tuned~

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 8 part 2 of 3

masterpost

“I will work with Black Bat?” Robin paused, looking between her and their Batdad. Batdad was still in his slippers and sweatpants.

He nodded at Robin. “That’s correct.”

“Finally,” Robin said. “A professional.” He turned on his heel to dismiss their Batdad from the conversation. “I will go suit up.” He waited a moment for her acknowledgement, not approval.

Cass gave him a double thumbs up. When he was out of sight she made eye contact with her Batdad and waggled her eyebrows at him. He did a big sigh. “Thank you for taking care of your little brother,” he said, because he meant well but he was really very silly about things. Robin did not need taking care of. Robin needed a place to jump and scream and bite.

She just nodded. No point in explaining.

Black Bat took the wait time to read through the most basic details of the ongoing case. The takeaway was: boring mission. Look at mechanic with her eyes. Take footage of his face. Find his name or other biographical information. Look at any ongoing projects to determine if anything required immediate action. Do not engage. Do not reveal self. Do not fight mechanic.

Boring!!!

It took very little time for Robin to ready himself. Damibat was a true professional, despite the sentimental wishes of the old people.

He spoke to her in sotto voce when they had gathered. “I admit relief.” Robin flicked his mask into place. “I am weary of being quashed by the authoritarian impulses of my…betters.” His disgust was clear. His tone and shoulders said: 

I miss Richard. My Father is a fool and Alfred is constraining my artistic soul. The regulations are unending. I do not feel confident of my survival in these conditions. I was forbidden to take home the tiger even though I saw it first. I may wilt.

Poor baby. Her face twisted with empathy. He did deserve the tiger. He would love it very well.

“Wanna drive the Batmobile?” Cass asked.

His sorrow lightened infinitesimally. “I cannot reach the pedals in order to operate it correctly. However, we could take the new cycles.” Robin scrolled to the right inventory item. “I took the liberty of customizing the paint jobs.”

Cass peered over his shoulder. “Ooh,” she said. Shiny. Spiky. “Looks fast. Let’s go.”

“No,” said Brucedad, from a distance. “Take a two person motorcycle and have your sister drive it. You do not have a license, Robin, you are 13.”

Robin made a sound of disgust, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I am beset by enemies,” he muttered. He stomped away towards their limited options.

Black Bat aimed a disapproving look at her Batdad. “You are crushing his artistic soul,” she informed him. 

“That’s a burden I will have to bear,” Batdad said gravely, and put on his reading glasses.

She hissed at him but they took one of the approved models out. 

Robin further debriefed her on a private channel on their ride into town, voices muffled to the outside world by their protective helmets.

“One of the previously uninfluential local gangs has been gaining territory and members in recent months. We have attributed this to an influx of unique tools they have access to, which have so far been unconventional tools.”

“Tools for what?” Cass took a hard left turn at a lean and let her fingertips trail just barely over the pavement.

“Excellent,” Robin said about the turn, and then, “they have been used to commit robberies. However, the designs are concerningly martial.”

He did not sound remotely concerned. He sounded approving. Cass asked for clarification with an upwards lilting “Mmm?”

“There was a bazooka that shot temporary voids,” Robin said, sounding young and excited. “They were used to bypass a bank vault and to intimidate a teller.”

Cass lifted her eyebrows and nodded. She could see why Brucedad would be antsy about bazookas, even if they didn’t hurt people. 

“There was also a device that created a foam which immobilized those it was deployed against by creating a sort of calcification effect. It ended naturally after a period of hours, but no technique we employed before that seemed to have a weakening effect on the substance. We were unable to attain samples.”

Cass hummed, feeling a little depressed about tonight’s mission after all. Science. Evil science. She was a little burnt out on evil science. She felt tired at the thought. This wasn’t fun.

Damibat noticed. He was silent for a few seconds. “After we confirm the location of the workstation, we could go to the docks,” Robin suggested.

She perked up a little bit. 

There was always someone to fight at the docks. Always a drug deal, smuggling big bad things, always something.

“Good plan.” 

“We will inform Batman afterward.”

Black Bat nodded her agreement. He didn’t need all the details of their schedule in live time. 

She felt a lot better driving out into the night with something to look forward to.

[spacedace]

Yo here have this dp x dc snippet from ages ago I forgot I wrote until I found it just now lol:

Joker had died just after sunset, when darkness had settled fully on Gotham. Beaten horribly with a blunt, metal object of sickeningly familiar description, then finally killed in the concussive force of an explosion from the various bombs the warehouse had been filled with.

It felt obvious who it had to be.

Except, of course, that Dick was looking at cctv footage and official court documents showing just how fucking impossible it was for Jason to have finally taken the clown out for good.

At the time everything had to have happened his little brother was across the city, in a public place, with official witnesses.

Official, official witnesses. They - one Margaret Tinsel - had signed their name as such, right next to their notary stamp and the date on the marriage license.

Marriage License.

Because Jay had been over at the courthouse next to city hall getting married.

Dick only found out he’d been dating Jasmine Nightingale a couple of weeks ago. He hadn’t even properly met her yet, just saw her from the roof across the street as she and Jay sat on her fire escape sharing a pint of ice cream, laughing and looking stupidly adorable and smitten with each other. And now they’re married.

How in the fuck was he going to explain this? Bruce was already spiraling on the idea that Jay had killed Joker, he’d want specific details on just how tight of an alibi Jason had for the crime. He’d want to see that proof himself.

And then he’d want to talk to Jay. Who hadn’t told any of them what the fuck was going on in his personal life. Who had very purposefully tried to keep Jasmine Nightingale - shit, no she applied for a name change, they both had, they were both Nightingale-Todd now - away from the family and their meddling.

Babs on the other end of the line seemed to share his utter loss over the situation.

“I did some digging.” She said, drawn out enough to let him know that whatever she found - while not bad - sure as shit wasn’t going to make things any easier to explain. “They’ve uh…as best I can tell, they’ve been dating for about three years now.”

Three years.

Jesus Christ. How in the hell is he going to break that news? Did he even break that news? That’s something that Jay should do.

Except Jay just got married less than two hours ago at the same time the Joker was violently - and karmically satisfyingly - murdered and there was absolutely no way that letting Bruce go over there to talk to Jay while all Batman-ed up was going to lead to anything but a fight, which means that he has to break that news or else Jay and his new wife - his wife holy fucking shit - are going to have to deal with a pissed off Batman on their honeymoon and -

“Oh.” Tim said from where he’d come to stand at Dick’s shoulder at some point during his internal freak out. “I guess they decided to do the courthouse thing after all.”

The train wreck of Dick’s thought process, at that point, entirely exploded.

[roo-bastmoon]

Please leave supportive comments on weverse for Yoongi. Flood his latest post with love and loyalty.

I saw the actual cctv footage. It happened just like he said. He rented a scooter. He drove in a straight line down side of the road. He turned to go into 9-1 and the wheel locked up. He tripped and fell over on the sidewalk, and immediately got right back up to check on the scooter. Police foot patrolling the area came over to check on him; he was honest that he’d drank at dinner, so they took his scooter license. That’s it. Nothing damaged. No one hurt. No charges. He was immediately transparent about it with us.

The way media has been hounding him, calling him blackout drunk, playing the wrong cctv footage, saying he could have killed someone, calling for him to be expelled from BTS, and talking about him serving time in prison… is THE MOST RIDICULOUS THING I HAVE EVER SEEN.

In part it’s because media loves to build people up then tear them down. But also there’s all the corruption and murder of investigative journalists by the current administration to cover up.

It hurts to see Yoongi apologize again for something so small. Drinking culture being what it is in Korea, watching him trip and get right back up, and seeing this three-week-long shitstorm… it’s left such a bad taste in my mouth that I haven’t posted about it, because this blog is supposed to be a happy place that focuses on positive things.

But considering the tone of Yoongi’s post just now, and how many k-celebrities are driven to take their own lives after this kind of relentless harassment, I feel like just ignoring this circus would be neglecting someone I love. So I left a detailed encouraging comment on his post.

I urge you to take a moment to write a heartfelt message of support on Weverse right now. I really feel like he needs to see it to draw strength and regain perspective. He needs to know ARMY is not ashamed of him. He needs to hear it over and over that we love him and aren’t going anywhere.

Apobangpo.

[marveling-cg]

As a teacher, the suit couldn't really have come at a better time.

When he'd graduated from college, he'd been surprised to see Principal Nezu in the crowd with All Might and Aizawa-sensei, and even more surprised to receive Principal Nezu's invitation to teach at UA - in the hero course no less!

They'd assigned him to the 2nd year hero course -- the 1st years, who were often still figuring out the limits of their quirks, needed teachers who might be able to physically intervene if something went wrong

His first year teaching, he'd spent just trying to get his feet under him: he borrowed a lot of the previous teacher's curriculum while he tried to get the hang of classroom management, and and grading, and parent contact, not to mention conducting practical exercises with his students while he was quirkless

But his second year he started making the curriculum his own: his strength had always been his analysis and he wanted his students to have that, too.

He started adding in case studies for each unit; invited his friends in to give talks about declassified or appropriately anonymized cases they'd worked on

By his third year, he'd gotten his unit plans down to a science: intro topic, host guest speaker, complete case study, hold class discussion, conduct practical exercise, students submit a reflection, test

His first unit of the year was always his favorite -- an intro to battle analysis. He'd never gotten Kacchan to commit to coming on campus, but if Deku sent him footage from a fight, Kacchan would send back a recording of his analysis

Once the kids got over the initial hilarity of Kacchan roasting the shit out of hero or villain or both, they usually asked Deku to play the video back a few more times so they could see just which errors Kacchan had caught, how quickly they could arise, how consequential they could be. It was a great way to get them open to Deku's whole approach to the class, and a good way for them to know that he would accept their work in their own voices -- no need to hide their personalities for points

The rest of the units -- meant to get his students ready to apply for their provisional licenses -- all followed suit.

And since most hero agencies had given new priority to community relations, he could schedule through his friends' offices to get them on campus: Tenya, Uraraka, Tsu, Momo, Shinso were especially reliable guests

And while the first half of the year was dedicated to the practicalities of being on the ground as a hero; the second half was dedicated to the heart of being a hero

They looked at rise of the League of Villains and Stain, talked about the plight of heteromorphs; he pulled in primary sources, they discussed their own personal credos (he liked to use Kacchan's and Hawks' as examples of how different and personal they could be while still leading to similar work), discussed the sociological and psychological impact of challenging quirks

All that to say, year four is the perfect time for the suit to fall into his lap.

He's got his professional shit together

And, though he's let himself shed some of the weight he needed to maintain One For All, he's kept himself in good condition

(High school students are so easily motivated by a little good natured teasing, "you really gonna let your quirkless teacher lap you?" has been a remarkably easy way to keep his kids going through tough conditioning work)

So, after he's managed to stop crying on All Might long enough to schedule a call with Hatsume to go over the specs; and stopped crying after that call long enough to process everything she's shared about its function, he realizes he's going to need to train before he can take this thing out in the field

The suit is incredible: a light exoskeleton that'll enhance his strength, 360 degree sensors that will pick up objects moving at certain speeds or sudden changes in air pressure, a light propulsion system that will allow him brief bursts of flight or slightly longer periods to hover, a chord system that he can use to pull himself forward or restrain villains, a diffuser that will set off a smoke screen

He spends another hour or so after the call with Hatsume to cry about how closely they've tried to recreate the capabilities of One For All

And then spends another four thinking about all of the manual controls he'll need to learn to replicate the skills he used to be able to call forth with a thought.

Thinks too about the kind of conditioning he'll need to do in order to not lose speed or an arm to the weight and propulsion of the suit

He remembers fondly a dirty beach half a lifetime ago; remembers, too, a forest trail where a quirkless All Might declared he'd change the future. Deku can do this.

And there's no better way to address the Kacchan of it all:

He'd tried calling Kacchan after All Might had dropped the news -- and been sent straight to voicemail three times in a row; received back a terse text: u r welcome nerd

Which told him Kacchan wasn't ready to deal -- with Deku's tears, or his gratitude, or with a conversation about how Kacchan had dedicated all of his professional career to funding Deku's dream -- as if all the long hours, and parties missed, and extra shifts covered, hadn't all been some sort of declaration of intent about the rest of their fucking lives

Which was fine. What was Deku going to say anyway?

"Was this a proposal, Kacchan? Because if so, my answer is yes."

That could wait. They had the rest of their fucking lives, apparently.

But in the meantime, Deku needed to train. He couldn't afford to rush this. Kacchan would be furious if Deku got himself hurt because he was being reckless.

So he headed over to the gym in Kacchan's building after work, just in time to catch Kacchan coming in for his biweekly workout.

"I've got a plan. I think I'm going to need to dedicate some attention to these particular muscle groups to protect from injury. I think I probably need to gain a little more muscle, too. Then, I want to start training in the suit. I'll need to get a feel for how it works as a whole in combat and rescue settings. But then I want to work on isolations. Can I trigger just this response as quickly as possible in various circumstances. What can I do or not if I've just got control of the arms or just the legs or just one limb. I've put together a timetable. I think, if you'll help me, I could be ready for field work without injuring myself by the end of this school year."

When Deku finally pauses and looks up from his notebook, Kacchan looks visibly relieved, shoulders down from his ears, that gleam in his eye that's signals amusement in spite of himself, the start of smile tucked into the corner of his mouth

Kacchan snatches the notebook from Deku's hands and looks over the charts. Deku barely grumbles at all at Kacchan's free hand tousling Deku's hair while he skims.

"Alright, dweeb, let's get started--"

[femconstellation]

I don’t think makeup should be allowed for identification photos like passports, driver’s licenses, and government IDs.

It makes sense for safety. When you’re going through the airport security and they see your passport, and in your passport, you are wearing a full face that completely changes your features… but you are bare-faced and look nothing like your passport photo. How can they believe you? You can take makeup off in a quick minute for proper identification. It takes longer to put a full face on, especially when, in the case you are using a stolen ID, you can just use the makeup to make yourself look like the ID photo.

Here’s a personal story: I was physically assaulted at 18 by a grown woman. I got her plate and described her. They had footage from the street camera. Her plate was registered to her father, which linked her already even with my ID. I went to the police immediately after it happened. They knew who it was. However, in her ID photo they used to get a positive ID, she was wearing an insane amount of makeup. But when I saw her in person, she was bare faced. I told the officer that the photo matched her appearance (eye color, hair color, build, nose shape, thin lips, etc) however the insane amount of makeup made it hard for me to guarantee it was her. But I knew it was her because of literally every other piece of evidence and the fact that everything else matched up.

They tossed the case. They knew who it was and it was tossed because my identification couldn’t be 100% because she was bare-faced when I saw her and had a full face in her photo. Could it have been reversed, where she was bare faced in her ID photo with a full face when she assaulted me? Yes, but again, you can take off the makeup faster than you can put it on. And in my case, she was bare faced when she assaulted me. If it was required to be bare faced for ID photos, theres a better chance she would have faced repercussions for her actions.

Besides, it is an ID photo, not a photoshoot. It is for identification purposes. It is supposed to be the real you. What are the pros to wearing makeup for your ID photo? You get to see yourself in big fat lashes and red lips every time you show your ID? What about the cons? Oh, your identification is useless because you look like the standard 2016 Instagram model instead of an actual human being with marks and flaws.

To be quite honest, I’d support a law or regulation that banned makeup from being worn in identification photos such as passports and licenses. I get it wouldn’t be 100% enforced, but it would be a push towards public safety, imho.