#forensic science best notes

[liketolaugh-writes]

Bruce looking past the fact that (recently adopted) Danny is a powerhouse and recognizing that he has other skills also. <3

Danny is a STEM kid and just as brilliant as his sister, you cannot convince me otherwise

Danny gave Bruce the handwritten list of powers in the morning. Bruce stared at it over his cup of coffee, then gave Danny a flat, somewhat disbelieving look. Danny shrugged sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he said, perching on one of the stools. “I can point out the ones I don’t use if you just want to work on the ones I do. At least I have an idea of what needs improving with those.” Alfred gave him a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon and French toast, and Danny smiled at him. “Thanks, Alfred.”

“We’ll have to prioritize your training,” Bruce allowed after a moment, frowning down at the paper. Dick leaned over to look and whistled. “But all of these will be addressed eventually. You should have at least a moderate grasp of every tool at your disposal.” He looked up. “You intended to work in the lab today, correct?”

Danny nodded, playing with a strip of bacon. “I’ll probably spend most of today making a big batch of phaseproof coating,” he said. “Then I can experiment with mixing it with paint and maybe coat some of your spare weapons in it? That should work for the bo staff and escrima sticks, maybe a set of brass knuckles. But I’ll need to make a different solution for the edged weapons.” His mind wandered, thinking of how he could adapt what he knew of the Bats’ gear to work against ghosts.

“Who’re the brass knuckles for?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Danny. Danny flushed and shrugged.

“Batman,” he said. “You don’t really use a weapon, right?” Bruce grunted. “But phaseproof cloth isn’t something my parents ever really figured out. I can work on it, maybe, but I thought brass knuckles would be an okay compromise for now.”

“Hn.”

“Good thinking,” Dick praised with a smile. “It’ll be easy to add to the utility belt too. Should we ghostproof my main set or a spare?”

“The main, I think, if you’re okay with it,” Danny said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You probably won’t even notice. But the edged weapons should all be spares. Ecto-treated metal tends to glow.”

“Not great for stealth,” Dick nodded. “Whatever you think is best, baby spook. We have the resources.”

“You’re hyper-specialized,” Bruce noted without inflection, sipping from his coffee. Danny winced.

“Sorry,” he muttered. It was easy to forget that all this was pretty useless outside of Amity Park. Bruce shook his head.

“It’s not a problem. But we’ll need to diversify your skillset. Your talent for chemistry and engineering should expand beyond ectoscience alone.” He studied Danny contemplatively. “Higher education might be beneficial, perhaps a PhD.”

Danny’s eyes went wide. “What? I’m barely passing high school!”

“I had Casper High send over your transcripts,” Bruce said. Danny flinched. “You had a B+ average in middle school, with a particular bent for math and science. You also participated in several advanced extracurriculars, including a junior astronaut program, space camp, and competitive robotics. Further, you clearly have a comprehensive understanding of your parents’ work, which eludes both the Justice League engineers and JL Dark. You had these talents prior to acquiring your powers, and it would be a waste to discard them in favor of your raw combat ability.”

Danny stared at Bruce, open-mouthed and speechless. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d considered even the possibility that he could have a future outside of his hero career.

“…Do you think I could do that and be a superhero?” he managed after a minute, quieter than he’d meant to.

Bruce nodded sharply. “Most Justice League heroes maintain a career outside of heroics,” he reminded Danny, without even sounding like he thought Danny was an idiot for asking. “Aside from myself, there is also a Pulitzer prize-winning journalist, a museum curator, a forensic scientist, and a fighter pilot.”

Danny had known that on some level, but it had always seemed unreal. Practically a myth. “When am I going back to school?” he asked, hardly able to believe that he was suddenly looking forward to it.

“At the beginning of next semester,” Bruce said. “Your parents’ trial should be completed by then. I assume you don’t want to be announced publicly until that happens.” Danny shook his head fervently. “You may need to complete some make-up classes online, but we can discuss that next week.”

“Thanks,” Danny said sincerely. He was talking about a lot more than his re-enrollment.

[mamasbakeria]

hey, what's your major again?

summary: my credible expert opinion on what the aot characters would study in university. what are my qualifications? the dozens of hours i’ve spent staring at my school’s program bulletin trying to figure out what i’m majoring in

genre | includes: headcanons, sfw, minor language, uninformed percy jackson reference (pls don't hate me if im wrong)

characters: eren jaeger, mikasa ackerman, armin arlert, sasha braus, jean kirschtein, connie springer, historia reiss, ymir, reiner braun, annie leonhardt

author’s note: had this in my drafts for months now. i just need to post it so it stops haunting me. might do the rest of the marleyans and vets in the future! lmk your thoughts, my only tumblr notifications are from p*rn bots, so i'd love to hear from real people lol. enjoy <3

eren: sociology and public policy, 4+1 program for a social work masters

there’s only so many times you can hear “you’re gonna be a doctor just like your dad” before you start to believe it. that’s why eren started out with biology on the premed track. the thing is, he really didn’t care for it. eren is really passionate about lessening equity gaps and is a firm believer in “if you want something done right, do it yourself”. this is why i see him making the switch to a double major in public policy and sociology. he wants to know about how society got to the point of perpetuating disparities so that he can fix them. but he also knows that the government fucking sucks and thinks its naive to expect policy change to be the only method of change. and like the maniac he is, eren is enrolled in a 4+1 program so he can get his master’s in social work when he’s done with his undergrad. he’s determined to graduate with both degrees in just 4 years though. rip his summers.

armin: international relations and military ethics, minor in communications or smth

everyone always says armin would study marine biology or oceanographic studies, but i honestly think that it’s a passion that he pursues on the side. he takes marine bio courses for his breadth requirements, but knows he’d end up hating the ocean if he spent the rest of his life studying it. he also strikes me as someone who would rather run buck naked into traffic than sit through multiple semesters of organic chemistry. armin was always a good public speaker, though, despite being a bit insecure. that’s why his speech and debate teacher during sophomore year of high school recommended model united nations to him. he was hooked after his first conference and now genuinely sees the path of international diplomacy as his calling. that’s why he’s majoring in international relations. his concentration in military ethics is something he tacks on in his junior year after taking some courses and publishing research with dr. erwin smith. he probably minors in communications because he can.

mikasa: forensic science

mikasa had no idea what she wanted to do when she started uni. she’s good at nearly everything. like never gotten a B in her life and is the student who the curve is based off of. but excelling in every environment you’re put in often means you don’t know what you’re best at. she knew deep down that she wanted to do something justice related like her childhood best friends did, but she’s no public speaker and has no interest in political reform. she was, however, emo in high school and heard a fair share of undertaker jokes at her expense. it wouldn’t hurt to look into right? as cool as the title sounds, morticians don’t make enough money for the job they have. fortunately enough, forensic pathologists do and mikasa looks good in a lab coat. she would never admit it to spare armin and eren’s feelings, but when they, as children, recreated the crime-solving shows mrs. jaeger always had on, mikasa always wanted to be the brains. so criminology and forensic science it is. (side note: she definitely joins the military and they pay for her education)

jean: structural engineering and industrial design with a minor in studio art

more than anything, jean wants to provide for his mom and knows he can’t guarantee a retirement of luxury for her as the freelance artist he wishes he could be. he’s decent at math when he tries and doesn’t hate physics, so he decided he’d give structural engineering a try for at least a semester or two. he wasn’t expecting to get much from it, to be honest. he had a plethora of backup plans waiting for his supposedly inevitable distaste for engineering, but he found that he didn’t hate it at all. someone once told jean that he had the makings of a great leader and he didn’t believe them until he started taking the lead on design projects and producing incredible results. his only qualm is that he just doesn’t get to be as creative as he wanted to be. that was easily rectified by an additional major in industrial design and a minor in studio art. he’s unbelievably busy, busier than he anticipated when he started his post-secondary journey, but he’s content and there’s nothing some extra coffee can’t solve. 

sasha: environmental science and sustainability

sasha spent her childhood ankle-deep in mud and fighting her way through forest thickets without a compass. an upbringing like that doesn’t leave your spirit, no matter how far into the city you go for school. so sasha’s always been passively passionate about the environment. that passiveness became significantly more prominent when part of the woods she grew up in was cleared out to build an industrial complex. it was then that she started researching and writing petitions about preserving wildlife and making environmentally conscious decisions. her work actually got her the scholarship she’s on (because god knows it wasn’t her grades). and she genuinely loves what she does, so why wouldn’t she keep learning about it? the environmental science and sustainability program at the school is small, but tight-knit and known for churning out changemakers. sasha knows she’ll be one of them one day. just hide your plastic straws from her, okay?

connie: computer science and chinese

stick with me here okay? everyone expects connie to be a douchebag marketing major whose hardest assignments are graphing functions and making posters on photoshop, but he’s a lot more invested in his education than he looks. don’t get me wrong, connie has always struggled academically, but that’s because so much of early education is pre-determined. he performed way better when he could choose what courses he took. it’s kind of like percy jackson being dyslexic in english because he was wired to read in greek. connie can’t keep his eyes on a history textbook for shit, but will gladly sit in front of the c++ code on his pc for hours. he doesn’t even get mad when he realizes that he was missing a semicolon. connie loves how versatile of a future he could have with a compsci degree, because, let’s be real, he could never survive in a typical office environment. definitely takes a bunch of chinese classes and doesn’t realize that he has enough credits for it to be a minor until his second to last semester.

historia: political science with a minor in international relations and child development

historia is a lot like eren in the sense that she knows her time is best spent doing hands-on work in the fields she cares about. she realizes this sometime after reconnecting with her estranged father and volunteering at the orphanage she grew up in. but now that she’s publicly associated with a powerful political figure, historia doesn’t get to do what she wants, only what is expected of her. that’s how she ends up on the pre-law political science and public policy route. the nickname “ms. president” that connie and sasha give her only further reminds her that she’s heading down a path she never wanted for herself. after lots of encouragement from ymir, historia decided to take child development courses on the side. even if she doesn’t take on the full minor, she’s taking some classes she cares about. maybe she’ll find use for it someday. at the very least, it’s her first step in becoming the most selfish girl in the world.

ymir: data science and business management

ymir is smart. much smarter than she presents herself to be, almost as a form of protection. nobody expects much of someone who is aloof, so it makes it easy to slip through the cracks to remain safe and comfortable in the shadows. business management is notoriously low commitment and easy to skate by with. guaranteed internships, post-graduate employment, and so on. To anyone who doesn’t know ymir well, it’s perfect. but they have her mistaken, ymir will do as little as possible to go as far as possible. sure, she can live comfortably with a business degree, but it could be better with a little bit of data science in her arsenal. she’s intelligent enough to pick up on it, and determined enough to make it her bitch. yeah, academia is a money-sucking pipeline into the capitalist hellscape, she doesn’t believe in it yada yada, but at the end of the day, ymir’s gonna get the bag. so what if she’s gotta sleep through some stats classes to get it?

reiner: behavioral economics

reiner’s mother had convinced him his whole life that getting a high paying job would fix their lives and bring his father back. believing “perfect grades lead to a perfect life” made high school tough for reiner; gifted kid burnout is no joke. it really messed him up. he wasn’t sure if he could withstand the pressures of university, but here he is. reiner was never allowed a therapist, so he figured pursuing psychology would, at the very least, give him some answers and be a good pathway to a medical degree. he loved getting to understand how people work and why they act the way they do, but something was missing. he found out what it was when a guest lecturer spoke in his economics class. he knew making the switch would be risky, it’s a new field and his current career options are really only research, academia, or government, but the interdisciplinary study of behavioral economics is calling reiner’s name. 

annie: biomedical engineering and kinesiology

annie’s entire life revolved around her father, including the injury he was never able to heal from. the one she gave him. he’s claimed to be over it, she’s forgiven, but annie will never feel like she’s earned that forgiveness until she gets rid of the problem entirely. how is she going to do that exactly? with biomedical engineering. she has years of hell in front of her, especially with her concentration on biomechanics, but she doesn’t care. annie will throw herself into her work to get the results she wants. she takes the highest amount of credits possible every semester so she can graduate early. you’ll most likely find her chained to a study cubicle at the library at all hours of the day and running on 2 hours of sleep, but it doesn’t faze her. she tacks on a minor in kinesiology because it makes sense and she had most of the credits for it anyway. and as if it couldn’t get worse, she probably TAs for a thermodynamics course or something crazy like that.

© mamasbakeria 2023. do not repost, translate (without permission), or modify

[somethingswift19]

Alt+Nerd= <3 Pope x (f) reader

| Warnings:

| Summary: The bubbly alt girl falls for Pope, the nerdy and serious guy.

| (a/n): I had a good reaction to the alt reader x obx so I wanted to continue that a little bit :) I'm so tired so if this is awful I apologize but I had fun writing it so that's really what counts right? Not proof read.

Leaning up against the lockers you watched as the whole pouge friend group walked past, sighing to yourself. Since freshman year you had had a thing for the smart one, Pope. He was so cute and serious and when he got all serious it made him even cuter and more adorable in your eyes. He was misunderstood and looked over a lot for John B and JJ. And even when he wasn't being looked over, he rarely noticed when girls hit on him. Green flags tbh.

But this brings you back to today...as you watched them all walk passed you knew you were probably not his type considering he was dating Kiara but a girl can dream. You had your black and blue hair straightened and pulled back into pigtails, neon green glasses, black cropped hoodie, skinny jeans, and orange nike airs on. "Hey! You ready for class?" your best friends voice snapped you out of your trance.

"Oh yeah, sorry," you shook your head and smiled before grabbing your bag and walking to AP biology. Tapping your pen on the desk, you day dreamed as the teacher went over the previous test. This was your favorite class but today you were just distracted. Before you knew it, the bell rang and you realized you hadn't taken a single note. Shit you thought. But that's when you had the idea... "Hey Pope!" you yelled after the boy as you ran to catch up to him.

"Uh...hi?" he looked at you confused. Honestly fair considering you have had probably two conversations with him in total. "What's up?"

"Oh, well...I kinda have a problem," you began. "Is there anyway you can go over the science notes from today with me? I didn't quite get all of it." Correction, I was staring at you like a total stalker for the entire class and wasn't paying any attention.

"Oh uh, yeah sure. Meet me at lunch and I'll give you my notes," Pope said as you nodded.

"Lucky I have the smartest guy in school in my class!" you responded cheerfully.

"Well technically Thomas Jennings is the number 1 in our class so he would be the smartest. I'm probably top five-" he rambled on before you cut him off.

"Pope," you stated. "Take the compliment and go with it. A cute girl is calling you smart."

As lunch rolled around, you met up with him and you copied down his notes from the day. "I like your glasses by the way." This snapped you out of you concentration.

"I'm sorry?" you asked not quite processing.

"Your glasses," he smiled. "They're cool. I like them."

"Oh," blushing hard core, you smiled. "Thank you!"

"Sorry if this is weird," he started, scratching the back of his neck. "You remind me of someone."

"Yeah? And who might that be?" you put your pen down and smiled. You were in the conversation now. Can't take this for granted.

"Abbey from NCIS," this time he came across as shy.

"Wait, no way! Thank you so much! I've always loved her and Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds. I think that's where my style comes from. But Oh my God Thank you!" you knew you were rambling but fuck it. "Wait you watch NCIS?"

"Oh yeah, I love that show," Pope chuckled at your enthusiasm. "I always wanted to be like Duckie. I want to be a coroner."

"That's so dope," you smiled. "I want to go into forensics."

"That's not people's usual reaction to that," he stated.

You could stare into his eyes all day, good God, "Hey, we should meet up at the wreck after school. I mean if you want."

"Yeah! My friends and I were already planning on meeting up there later," he started. "You can come with us."

"Ok! I would love that!," this time it was your turn to chuckle. "Maybe after we can have some alone time? Just the two of us?"

"Wait...what?" the quizzical look he had on his face was adorable.

"Here," you said grabbing his arm and writing your number down. "I've been flirting with you for the past half hour for the record." You winked at him and started grabbing your things.

"I-I'll text you," he called after you and JJ looked over at him giving him a thumbs up. You knew he was watching you leave as you walked out of the cafeteria.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time Skip After Shool~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as you got home, you got ready to meet up with the pouges and considering this was the first time, and you were hanging out with pope, you had to look decent. Deciding on ripped black skinny jeans and a blue halter top with David Bowie vans high tops, you threw your hair into a half up half down bun and put on some lashes. Your green glasses still adorning your face. Dabbing on some lip gloss, you took one final look at yourself in the mirror before heading out.

Pope's friends were really nice and very chill honestly! Kiara was standoffish at first but quickly warmed up. And you learned Sarah Cameron was nothing like you expected! "So Ms. (Y/n)," JJ exclaimed throwing his arm over your shoulder. "Pope has told us a lot about you." Pope was signaling for him to shut the fuck up but that's not what JJ does.

"Has he now?" you giggled looking over at him.

"I wouldn't say a alot..." Pope was trying to hide his face now.

"Really?" JJ began. "So she isn't the cool, colored hair girl who is the only person who is better in science than you?"

"And she isn't the sweet and talkative girl who reminds you of...what's that show again?" Kiara chimed in laughing and using hand motions.

"Ok, ok, leave him alone," John B very kindly said. "And the show is NCIS."

"That's right!" everyone exclaimed at once embarrassing him and making you laugh and look at him sweetly.

"So exactly how smart are you to be better at Pope in something?" Sarah asked putting a french fry in her mouth.

"Oh, um," you were blushing now from the attention. "I'm just freakishly good at science. He's still smarter than I am." He smiled and shook his head at you. After a couple hours the two of you snuck off, but not without whistles from the others. Walking down to the shoreline, having your feet touch the water as you looked at the shells and things washing up. "Thank you for inviting me to hang out with you and your friends."

"Oh, it's no problem," he stated. "Thanks for writing your number on my arm. JJ was proud." This caused you to chuckle a little bit.

"Earlier you said I wasn't what you expected," you said softly. "You aren't what I expected either."

This time his facial expression was nervous as he snapped his head to look at you, "In a good way or a bad way?"

Smiling widely up at him, "In the best way."

"(Y/n)?"

"Pope?"

"Do I have permission to kiss you?" he asked slightly awkwardly.

"Always," you responded sweetly. As your lips met, it was everything you had dreamed of. His hand came to rest on your face gently as he pulled you in closer causing you to throw your arms around his neck. The nerdy guy kissing the goth girl in the moonlight? How many cliches can you guys check off at once? But none the less, this was the perfect night.

[nhescio]

Okay I have a visceral need for a hannigram time travel fic but instead of the typical Will or Hannibal fix-it, the person that time travels back is none other than Frederick fucking Chilton. Like imagine Chilton wallowing around all crispy and stuff after being human torched wondering what he’s done to deserve everything he’s been through. And when he’s finally okay enough to be discharged from the hospital to go home, an anvil falls on him or smth. And as he’s lying there incredulously, he’s like, yknow what? Im not even upset about this. I think Ive suffered enough near death experiences. Please just let this one put me out of my misery. And as his eyes finally drift shut, he hears an alarm blaring in his face. An alarm from his phone. His phone which, when he goes to shut it off, displays an impossible sequence of numbers— the plastic screen shinning with a date from four years past.

So after freaking out and confirming that he is indeed in the past, (and weeping in joy over his unmutilated body) Frederick does the obvious— he packs his bags, pays a visit to the bank, and gets on the next available flight out of the country.

And then his plane crashes and he dies.

But of course he doesn’t die because that seems to be a common theme in Frederick Chilton’s life!

So he’s jolting out of bed again to that same alarm and he tries not to tear his own face off (not that he would ever actually do that cause he knows how easily he could lose that precious face). And (after a few more tries) since this time loop bs isn’t letting him run away, he does the next best thing— phoning the FBI with a tip so that they would investigate Hannibal Lecter and put him behind bars for good. But of course Hannibal somehow finds out and discretely shakes the FBI off his trail while simultaneously sending one of his murderer protégés after Frederick. And so not even a month passes by before Frederick finds himself dying and waking to that infuriating alarm again.

And he keeps going through different loops trying to avoid being “murder tableau of the week”, but failing miserably every time. After dying for what feels like an infinite number of times, he’s realized two main consistencies. Number one, he can’t personally expose Hannibal Lecter as the ripper if he doesn’t want to be gutted, and two, the sooner Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter begin their weird courtship, whether from Frederick’s deliberate meddling or from ripples of unrelated actions, somehow he’s left with much less blood and chaos in the aftermath. In one incredible timeline, Frederick even managed to only sustain one life threatening disembowelment for three years before accidentally making a rude comment about Will Graham’s lack of a social life, thereby leading to a cold death in the Atlantic.

After this revelation, he vows to get Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter to bang each other as soon as possible for the sake of his own self preservation— going through elaborate plans like befriending and recruiting the FBI’s forensics team, or snapping Jack Crawford out of his obliviousness so he’d bluntly give them a nudge, or even once flirting with Will Graham himself to get Hannibal Lecter jealous (note: that attempt did NOT end up well).

And one day, after a shocked text from his “Sassy Science Matchmaking Squad” group chat proclaiming that Hannibal and Will, lovingly dubbed Hannigram by the group, had spontaneously quit their jobs and run away to Europe together, Frederick suddenly realizes he hasn’t been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or disemboweled once! He thinks back to his early success in this timeline— silently high fiving with Beverly and Jimmy (Zeller, the spoilsport, had refused to partake) while voyeuristically watching Will and Hannibal shyly having their first kiss in the shadows of a filthy crime scene. In fact, he didn’t think anyone in their immediate circle had been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or— well you get the point.

And as one year turns to two to four to eight with no word from Hannibal or Will except the occasional postcard, a sort of cautious optimism starts building in Frederick’s heart. The years continue to fly by until one day, Frederick finds that his hair has turned a snowy white, and that his legs are too weak to support his aching body. He tries to take in a breath to laugh but it comes out as a wheeze. He’s at the end of the line once more, but this time at the end of a healthy, fulfilling life. His only wish is that he’s finally allowed to move on. And as he feels his life slowly drifting away from him, Frederick wonders if he’s accomplished whatever divine mission that godforsaken time loop had wanted him to complete. It really feels like he did the best he could this life, preventing every possible death on the East Coast by sending Hannibal and Will packing early. Sure, he feels bad for the poor suckers in Florence or Paris that were probably flambéed for a pretentiously fancy brunch, but realistically, those two would always leave a body count no matter where they went.

All Frederick wants now is to pass in peace. With a heavy sigh, Frederick willingly closes his eyes one last time, content to move on into whatever lies in the beyond.

And he dies. For real this time. Woohoo!

The End

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 2: Cooks in the Kitchen

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: Everyone hates a backseat driver. And a surprise guest when you’re not at your best.

Word count: 3,234

Content/warnings: TW: dead body and all you would expect in forensic science, I tried to make this not graphic, mentions of bruising, mentions of torture and abuse, sassy and borderline mean reader, awkward Steve who overthinks, reluctant? flirting, allusions to and mentions of murder

Author’s Note: For my dearly beloved @krirebr please know that you’re loved and appreciated by us all. I hope this helps, just a little bit. (Extra angsty, hopefully to your tastes)😘

What I’m gonna say is Decks seems very on edge compared to how she was before. Her guard came up out of ‘nowhere?’ Hm, that’s weird… or is it?

Anyway, these are Loupe glasses, if you’re wondering. They let you see tiny things up close and at a better angle.

Comments, reblogs, asks, and any feedback is so welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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After your weekend at the farm, Steve drove you home to return to your normal life. As much as you loved being out in the country, city life was definitely more your speed. You immediately went back to work and were happy to keep your busy routine going. Sure, a weekend away from screens and solvents was a breath of fresh air, but this was where you thrived.

Despite the way there were new, more outlandish cases to deal with, the days were surprisingly routine. Come in, visit a crime scene, run some tests, go home, do it again. You lived for that sort of zen. The detachment of simply putting your head down and getting to work was what you were used to, and then once you were home, it was like a sanctuary. You could lounge, pick up another hobby out of the thousand you’d already started, and crawl into your fresh sheets.

It’s not like you were entirely a hermit, though. You got along with your coworkers and would commonly joke around with them, but first and foremost, you were a proper worker, doing your job. When something really needed done, you’d lock down in the lab, music blasting, and crank out results.

Steve was the same way. He tried to keep his days as routine as possible, despite the way work brought something new everyday. Rival gangs needed monitored and law people needed bribed. Shipments and production needed to be kept on a tight schedule and up to pace with increasing demand.

There wasn’t much time for it, but he’d found certain images and memories start to take hold in his mind. They were different from the grade school ones of Bucky, or his times learning the ropes of his trade, or the first suit he’d ever worn. They were new, they were…warm? Lacked that same rigidity? They were of you. Driving his car effortlessly, petting a baby goat as it bleated happily, teaching him to dance…small, little moments that he couldn’t let go of, but he didn’t have time to replay enough.

He did his best to stay proper in his business dealings. Steve was known for his gentlemanly demeanor, truly a golden boy of the underground, or…at least as much of one as an individual could be given the legality loopholes he was constantly trying to jump through.

On the outside, he was smooth as a beach. Fluid with the crashes of waves this industry threw at him. He’d gotten good at rolling with the punches without a single blond hair out of place. But inside? It was a hurricane. The wind raged and echoed in his ears, putting him on edge. It was sensory overload.

Everyday, he found his attention wanting to wander more and more to that simpler time, not romanticizing it for the lack of pressing responsibility, but for the fact he spent genuine moments with someone who was unlike those in his world. Unlike the men so obsessed with maintaining their place on top or squashing others to get there. They were all about the money, but you were working for the people, and for the betterment of the city. To solve cases and give peace to families. And Steve knew he was all too often on the other side of that, even if he prided himself on only taking out the worst of the worst. The ones who deserved it. They were the ones endangering women and children, who to him, were the distastefully vulnerable and undeserving of wrath, despite the fates they were met with from the awful men Steve rid the world of. He wasn’t breaking his set of morals and rules, he was just breaking the law sometimes. Steve was a good man, he just happened to make his living doing bad things.

He didn’t have time to reflect on that right now, though. Things had seriously picked up in recent weeks. Bucky was soon to return, but it didn’t help that Steve felt like Lloyd was unrelentingly on their asses. Leading the organization when it came to the normal stuff was fine, but the extra protections Bucky was making him run, along with the extensive research and monitoring was already taking its toll. Steve was used to a lack of sleep, he basically lived on adrenaline and black coffee, but another night where he was fielding calls and sending out directives without a wink was causing his emotional guard to fall.

It was early morning as Steve sat at his desk. He’d ordered Sam to head out hours ago, but as the sun was cresting over the horizon, not even that searing glow could keep Steve’s tired mind at bay. The levees against the flood were weakened beyond belief. The hurricane was about to make landfall.

Just then, the phone rang. It was one of his contacts down at the police station. That wasn’t new, but the specific news was and Steve wanted to be there in person to get every bit of information he could... and perhaps catch a glimpse at the one person who could scratch that new itch in his brain. Maybe, finally, at least he could catch a nap in the car, as Steve called Gio to drive him over.

Over the couple weeks you’ve been back, you couldn’t help the way your mind wandered constantly, either. Even your favorite playlist couldn’t keep you on track, so you opted for silence, the scenes replaying of your time on the farm doing plenty to help you block out your surroundings.

You were working on a particularly difficult case currently. There was no time for distractions. The overcast sky just added to the ambiance of the feeling that something unusual was looming over you. You pulled yourself out of your thoughts, along with the keys from the ignition, and took a deep breath, letting it out sharply to get yourself ready. When you’d gotten out of the SUV and to the crime scene, Detective Lang greeted you.

“So I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

He guided you along the River walk and down the rocky shore where a victim laid, waves still lapping over her feet as photographers and cops gathered around the scene, surveying it for evidence. A small crowd had gathered along the pathway, held back by barricades and uniformed officers. At least you were here before the news crews.

“Bad news first, always. You know that.” You spoke with a purpose, slipping on your gloves after pushing up the sleeves of your department-issued windbreaker and cuffing your pants so they wouldn’t get wet.

“So far, looks like it was blunt force trauma with a side of torture. Very little evidence to go off of, especially considering there are no open wounds and the tools used for this kinda thing could be in any household.”

You crouched down by the body and immediately took note of the bruising. You hummed in acknowledgement and looked back up at the detective, his head framed by the cloudy, gray sky, the rising sun now hidden. Fitting for a tragedy like this. A woman your age subjected to that sort of an ending…

“And the good news?”

He sighed, looking up at the sky, hands on his hips, before he dropped his head back down towards you.

He winced. “Body’s fresh? Disposal doesn’t appear very well thought-out.”

You nodded and looked around for any piece of evidence that hadn’t washed away. He was right, it was gonna be difficult to pull many testable elements.

“Well, I’ll do the usual work-up, then, and let you know when you’re good to get everything over to the medical examiner.”

He curtly nodded and turned on his heel to speak with the witnesses before you began to pull out your kit, swabbing for anything of note.

After you finished collecting everything you could, you carefully slipped back through the background and away from the slew of reporters now blanketing the scene. Ugh, you hated those block heads. Especially Lucas Bell, the weird little ray of sunshine you went to school with growing up. For some reason, he thought the two of you were actually friends, despite never having even given him the signal you appreciated his presence. The worst part: you could tell he wasn’t hitting on you. He would genuinely seek you out at crime scenes, that gross happy smile on his face, calling you by the birth name almost no one used anymore in favor of your college nickname. Every time, it was, “hey, remember me, old pal? Great to see you! Any information you’re willing to share?” Who the hell was so chipper when their job was literally to report tragedies?

You bobbled your head as you mocked him to yourself and got back into your work SUV. Ugh, you hated that guy. And all the other reporters. You didn’t wanna be on camera. What if you wanted to work for the FBI one day? Huh? What then? Can’t have your face out there all willy nilly and then expect to be doing covert ops. Nope. You prepared to race back to the precinct, ready to drown yourself in an afternoon of attempting to suck evidence out of a cotton swab caked in river grime and essentially, air, if you could count that as evidence.

You drove back through the pouring rain. Another thing to be annoyed by. First, the longing for your simple weekend once again, then the intrusive thoughts about annoying little reporters, and now, the near-flooding on the roads. You could hear her in your head now, Bee saying “rain makes corn. It’s a good thing.” You rolled your eyes, to be honest, you liked the rainy atmosphere, but you know what rain also makes? Bad drivers. At this point, it was just best to get back to the lab, buckle down, and stay there, where no one could possibly bother you.

You were hours in to your intensive testing. Your spectrometry readings gave the smallest peaks, hard to say if the readings actually were something or just background noise. You were happy to put in the time, but something just felt…off. It was infuriating and not helping your mood, but you tried your best to keep it separated from work. It wasn’t perfect, but it was your best. Another small thing going wrong could push you over the edge, though.

You opted to just look at a small fabric sample, deciphering if there truly was some thread of note caught in the weave. You just needed to concentrate and you knew you could find something. You were purely focused and zoomed in, using your Loupe glasses, paired with several lamps overhead, with the highest hopes of even a shred of confirma-

“Decks? More like Specks.”

The sudden voice that echoed through the lab startled you, causing your head to shoot up and bump against one of the metal lamps.

“Ow!” At that same time, the forceps and piece of fabric flew out of your hands and onto the floor. It didn’t help that you knocked into your instrument tray on the way, sending all those onto the floor, as well.

Great, now you had to go to the stock room to find a new package of sterile ones. This was the last set left in the lab. You looked up from where you watched the evidence fall, rubbing your forehead with the back of your gloved hand, eyes narrow at the business man in a suit who was previously leaned against your doorway, now tentatively walking towards you to crouch on the ground.

“Steve, what the hell?” You trailed off for a second. “You and Bee really do have the same sense of humor. I thought she just told me that as a selling point.” It came out as an irritated growl. You rolled your eyes as you squatted down to start cleaning your mess.

Steve laughed. Selling point? Bee talked to you about him? And tried to make him appealing? He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a certain warmth in his stomach at that. He pushed it down as much as he could. Either way, he truly did get along well with her.

“Well you know what they say, birds of a feather and all.” He joined you near the floor after having grabbed a glove, picking up some stray instruments and placing them back in the metal holding tray.

You muttered lowly as you finally stood up and turned away from him, after grabbing the fabric off the floor gingerly and placing it in a plastic protective case. “More like wasps of a stinger.”

Steve disposed of his gloves and looked over the results on your computer. You quickly hit the keys to lock the screen, sure to cast him a nasty glare. The last thing you needed was to get accused of leaking evidence.

What was he doing here, anyway? With those broad shoulders and that skinny waist. What did he even need shoulders that big for? How did he even shop for clothes? You swear his waist was literally the same circumference as your thigh. They don’t carry stuff like that in department stores.

Steve looked at you with a confused glance as you removed your gloves and washed your hands. There was a hint of humor in his voice, but it was mostly filled with caution at your attitude.

“Um, I don’t really shop for clothes? I’ve got a tailor. He’s pretty good.”

After your hands were dry, you facepalmed harder than ever before. You couldn’t believe you said that out loud. Maybe you did need to interact with more people outside of work. You were too comfortable talking to yourself. You took a deep breath before turning around and looking at Steve again. His face now mostly held tentative kindness, and that was a nice change to the anger that was sitting in your belly all day today. You still couldn’t help what you spat back, though.

“You have a tailor? In this economy? Of course you do…rich prick.” The last part was grumbled under your breath, but Steve still caught it. Where was this hostility coming from? He thought the two of you had gotten along great before. What changed?

Steve’s hurt caused him to fire back, albeit much nicer than you had. “You’re calling me rich? Decks, I’ve seen your apartment, it’s nice. Especially for this city. Way nicer than my first place.”

First off, what was that supposed to mean? You were still suspicious about exactly what Steve and Bucky did for a living. You knew they made a lot of money. Steve wore designer suits, if he could help it, and you assumed Bucky did, as well, but what business did they have being this built?

You let go of that, though, wanting to just get back to work after the disturbance, but why had you been disturbed in the first place?

“Steven, what are you doing in my lab?”

He was taken aback. Woah, full names. He knew your full name, but didn’t dare to find out what would become of him if he used it. It didn’t seem like many did. He wanted to go about this the right way. He didn’t want abuse his delicate position as a friend of a friend when you were so close to the law…yet.

He stood upright and pressed his shoulders back. Right, he was here on business. He had to remember that. It wasn’t a personal call and he had to stay professional.

“I was actually meeting with Scott, er, Detective Lang. He called me about the new case that came in this morning.”

You nodded slowly. “You knew her?”

Why did that make you nervous? Of course Steve knew women, like, duh, but something burning rose in your chest in anticipation of his response. Why did you care? You didn’t even want him here. Right?

He shook his head lightly. “No…well, sort of? She was an employee of one of my businesses. A salon.”

One of his businesses, of course. A salon was…interesting… but you guessed not out of the question with how perfect his stupid perfect hair always was. Whatever, just because he was here for some questioning, doesn’t mean he had to pay you a visit.

“Okay…so why did you come in here?”

You looked up at him from the odds and ends you were shuffling around your work bench out of nervousness.

“I actually wanted to see you, maybe help out a little?”

You eyed him skeptically, ignoring the way your chest sent a tingle down towards your fingertips. “You know when someone offers to keep close to a case like that, it usually means they had something to do with it, right?”

Steve put his hands up in surrender. “I swear this wasn’t me. I just genuinely care for my employees. Did you check under the fingernails? Maybe there was some DNA there or something?”

Your gaze became even more burning towards him. “Yes, Steven. I checked under the nails. That’s like, the first thing you do in cases like this. But why would you know that, anyway? And how can you say you care so much about your employees if you didn’t even know the girl?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. He was usually much smoother than this. How did you intimidate him so much so suddenly. Oh no…Is that where the name ‘Decks’ came from? Were you gonna hit him? Deck him? Did you have a pension for beating guys up? If he made a wrong move, would you literally punch him? Give him a black eye? Sure, much worse had happened to him before, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to emotionally recover if the damage came from you.

Either way, Steve didn’t want to find out, so he continued quite cautiously and uncomfortable within your domain, lacking the confidence that came so easily to him in all his usual business dealings and the quasi-leadership role he found himself in.

“I um…I watch a lot of CSI shows?” He hoped that was believable, but he knew it came out like a squeak, almost. He may as well be a little kid losing fights in a back alley again. He cleared his throat in an attempt to get his voice back to normal. “I do care for my employees, though. And my reputation, and the ability to make sure nothing like this happens again to anyone involved with me.”

You sighed at that. You can understand the want to prevent future disasters, especially when it came to someone working so low at the bottom of the food chain for such a major company. As you slipped your Loupe glasses back on and readjusted your lamps, you gestured for Steve to take a seat in your computer chair while you moved to a stool by the lab bench.

“Okay, fine. I’ll let you hang around, but don’t tell me how to do my job.”

You couldn’t help the way the corner of your lip turned up, just out of Steve’s sight, as he strutted over and plopped down into the rolly chair, watching you with a smile and his fingers laced behind his head.

Next >

Bonus A/N: I’m very excited for what’s going to grow between Steve and Decks. She’s a lil independent thing and he’s just so “idk what to do bc I’m supposed to be in control but I’m doing everything on her terms” and I love it. Lmk what you think!!!

Series Taglist:

@evie-119

[1mlostnow]

A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 27th of July, is this young man's birthday. Though it was years ago he was given life, it is only today that he will be given a name.

What will the name of this young man be?

•

•

•

🐸 The Basics :

Name : Evan

Pronouns : He/Him

Age : A minor!!

Gender : Male

Sexuality : Gay

Nationality : American

Star Sign : Leo

MBTI : INTJ-T

I love nicknames, call me whatever.

I’m usually around from 8AM to 1AM CDT.

Music sideblog : @evan-radio

🐛 My Resume :

Loser CEO, the ‘weird kid’ since birth, Professional Ghostbuster, Supervillian, and Midwestern Cowboy (the fun way, not the cop way), Lab Experiment #0727

🪲 My Music :

AJJ, boygenius, Bug Hunter, Cage The Elephant, Car Seat Headrest, Crywank, Lemon Demon, Lord Huron, Los Campesinos!, MCR, Noah Kahan, ODO, Pat The Bunny, Radiohead, Rex Orange County, Seb Lowe, Sleep Token, Tally Hall, Tame Impala, Teen Suicide, TFB, The Smiths, Vundabar, Weezer :/, Will Wood/WWATT, Wingnut Dishwashers Union, and more.

🐢 Tags :

# evan speaks -> I talk. A lot. // # evan rants -> I tend to be very emotional // # evan’s memories -> nostalgia mode // # evan can’t vote -> US politics // # evan draws -> my art // # EvanRadio -> my sideblog for music // # i love my mutuals -> typically multiple mutual appreciation posts per day

🐍 Rules & Boundaries :

I’m a minor!! Don’t be weird!!

Obviously, any form of discrimination is off limits.

Cringe culture is dead, all are welcome, and I’m always open to learning.

Asks and anons are open, notifs are off so feel free to spam, but I can’t promise I’ll see it right away. Absolutely feel free to interact and ask, I will have full convos w/ you through reblogs. I answer DMs on a case-by-case basis. If you are over 18, please do not DM me.

🦎 Fandoms and characters ->

★ Dead Poets Society

★ House MD

★ Supernatural

★ Sherlock

★ Ghostbusters

★ Homestuck

🦖 Incoming fandoms ->

★ Hannibal, Good Omens, Saw

🐊 Backseat Fandoms ->

★ IT, Stranger Things, Over The Garden Wall, Scooby-Doo

🦚 Fandom Graveyard ->

★ Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Creepypasta

🦜 Kinnies ->

★ Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock)

★ Egon Spengler (Ghostbusters)

★ Castiel (Supernatural)

★ Steven Meeks (Dead Poets Society)

★ Richie Tozier (IT 2017)

★ Rory Keaner (My Babysitter’s A Vampire)

🪛 Other Movies :

The Truman Show, Stand By Me, Velvet Goldmine, Jaws, The Goonies, Breakfast Club

🐉 Other Interests :

Reading, writing, art (drawing, painting, digital and traditional), etymology, science, history, math, forensics, biology, marching band (alto sax), sharks

🔋 Other Facts :

- I love my car like it’s my child #TOMATER SUPREMACY 🦚

- Richard Cameron Defender for life (see here)🐊

- Blog theme changes frequently 🦖

- i LOVE doing little doodles and drawings of my friends 🐢

- I love my mutuals and you guys are my best friends btw 🐍

- More mouse bites!! This vexes me! Medicine drug!! 🦎

- ADHD 🪲

- I’ve got a bad habit of viewing notifications but never responding to them, if this happens please just tag me again 📗

🦠 A Note :

I am very indecisive and this post will be edited very often (see counter below)

🧪 Dead Poets Society :

@pingunaa @ghostboyhood @wordssricochet @meekspeaks @poetsinnyc @wilsons-three-legged-siamese @midwest-quill @apparitiongnostic @de4d-poet-kisser @yourfavvgal @asclexe @lv3buzzz

If I forgot someone/if you want to be added just lmk :)) if I forgot you I’m so so sorry

Edited - |||| ||

[honeybelleee]

Stabbed, You’re Next!

Synopsis

When Y/N's best friend, Wonyoung Jang, is brutally murdered after uncovering a corruption scheme involving the school's staff, Y/N finds herself pulled into a dangerous game. With only a cryptic email and a folder of incriminating evidence, Y/N must team up with Wonyoung's boyfriend, Mingyu and a tech-savvy loner, Jake to expose the truth. But as the body count rises, Y/N realizes the conspiracy goes deeper than she ever imagined-and the killer is always one step ahead. Trust no one, because in this game, anyone could be next.

Pairings

Jake Sim x F!reader (It will progress rlly slow)

Genre

Mystery, thriller, crime, heavy angst, slowburn fluff

TW

This story contains themes of violence, murder, and death, including graphic depictions of a stabbing and blood. It also explores corruption, fear, and grief, as the characters deal with loss, danger, and being stalked by a killer. Themes of paranoia and emotional trauma are present.

Notes

First fic posted on tumblr, ignore the details of the text messages plssss (it's unorganized)!

____________________________________________

| Characters |

Y/N Park

A brilliant but introverted scholarship student who is passionate about forensic science

Jake Sim

A tech-savvy loner with a knack for hacking and a dark past

Mingyu Kim

The star athlete with a seemingly perfect life, raised by a religious successful single father, but is hiding a controversial secret

Jang Wonyoung

A popular student council president with ambitious dreams, and countless unsolved family issues

Ning Yizhuo

Your typical Regina George, she is Wonyoung’s twin sister. (Will be introduced in the later chapters)

[terrestrialnoob]

Strange Friends

Fandom: Danny Phantom, Young Justice (cartoon)

Ships: N/A

Rating: Gen.

Word count: 8,228

Summary:

Being heroes has a negative affect on Danny and Valerie's grades, but luckily, they can sacrifice a weekend with Tetslaff to get their History grades up. A two hour bus ride to Chicago, and they find themselves in an anthropology museum when a nearby robot attack drives everyone outside. Luckily, the local heroes, The Martian Manhunter and his never-before-seen sidekick, are there to save everyone! Or maybe the Martians are the ones who need saving?

Danny and Valerie stepped off the bus in front of the Chicago Museum of Anthropology. The two stuck together mainly because there were only a dozen students there and everyone else were nerds and jocks these two didn’t have the time or patience to deal with. Coach Tetslaff checked the bus for stragglers then shouted at the assembled teens before her.

“Alright, everyone here is in danger of failing history, whether in my class or another teacher’s. So this is your punish- I mean, extra credit opportunity; you’re going to spend your entire weekend here with me. Today, you and your partner are going to choose any exhibit currently on display in the museum and write a report on it. Then tomorrow, you’ll both present your report not only to the class, but also the museum curator Professor Summer Davies.”

She stared out at the unfocused faces that had heard this speech ten times already, then she sighed and continued, “Meet here in front of the museum at 12:50 for the group lunch, if you didn’t sign up for the group meals, you’ll have to go find and pay for your own food. Now, let’s get to it people!”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I have to spend my hard earned weekend doing school work.” Valerie rolled her eyes and glanced at Danny. They’d chosen to sign up as partners on this fieldtrip because Danny knew Valerie would take him seriously and listen to his ideas, and Valerie knew Danny was dependable, despite being a goof, and neither of them would push all the work onto the other.

“Tell me about it,” Danny said as the two made their way into the museum. It was as interesting as most museums are when you’re forced to go instead of choosing to go; Danny would have loved to visit and learn about this stuff any other day, but today it was homework. There was a display on the history of kitchen technology, an intro to forensic anthropology, a collection of Native American musical instruments, and something about the evolution of Victorian house design.

“This should be fascinating,” Danny said, taking notes in a spiral notebook he’d been carrying with him.

“I’m very fascinated by the development of the knife,” Valerie said as she took a photo of some restored kitchen knives that were over a hundred years old when the security guard was turned away.

“I don’t know, they can’t cut ghosts,” Danny teased.

Valerie raised a playful eyebrow at him, “They do when I use them.”

“We both know that’s not how that works,” Danny chuckled and made another note, though, the Forensic Anthropology might be the best option, it was the widest category, and it could be useful with superhero work, two birds - one stone. They had been trying to improve that part of their lives. Valerie and Sam were trying to drag Danny to a workout every day, while Danny was working with Tucker to refine their ghost database and improve their equipment. There had to be something useful they could learn from researching forensic science, even if it was specifically focused on figuring out human history.

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion from outside.

Danny rolled up the notebook and stuck it in his jeans pocket as he and the rest of the students left the building in a group under the shouted orders of Coach Tetslaff. Outside, there was a crowd of scared citizens running past the museum. Danny and Valerie shared a look and, while Tetslaff was distracted by the other students, turned and headed towards the source of the commotion instead of away from it. Barely a block away from the museum, there was a large figure fighting two smaller figures in the air.

Once they got close enough, Danny recognized one of the smaller figures as Martian Manhunter, and another was smaller but very similar in appearance. She looked like a teen girl with Martian green skin, long red hair, a navy blue skirt matching the color of both their capes, and while she wore a white shirt instead of Manhunter’s black body suit, they both had the same red X’s on their chests and gold pins holding their capes (that probably only Danny could see at this distance with his weird ghost eyes). They were clearly working together despite Danny never having heard of Martian Manhunter having a sidekick.

Their enemy looked to be an nine-and-a-half-foot tall robot, with six long spindly arms sticking out from it's extended torso. There were sharp claws on two with arcs of electricity flitting between its fingers, blasters on two others that shot globs of white hot plasma, and the last too were fucking flaming swords. It flew around in the sky about fifteen feet in the air using rockets built into its feet, but it wasn’t a stable floating, the way its rockets were designed, it couldn’t stay still in the air.

“Wow, a real superhero fight!” Danny marveled as he watched, uh, Martian Girl? – sure – as she dodged one of the robot’s plasma blasts.

“And what are we? Fake superheroes?” Valerie shook her head, but watched with deep intrigue as Martian Girl kept the robots attention on her while Martian Manhunter flew up behind it, raising his hands towards it.

Danny could almost see the psychic energy radiating off Martian Manhunter as the robot’s two blaster arms were torn from its body followed quickly by the two claw arms. Then Danny felt more, stronger psychic energy coming from Martian Girl as she turned to face it. The rest of the robot was immediately crushed into a ball of jagged metal and electrical sparks. Danny couldn’t tell if it was because it was stuck between the two Martian’s telekinetic powers or if it was all Martian Girl. But Danny could practically see it, the psychic power rolling off her in waves and hitting the robot along with Martian Manhunter’s power at its back. Looking closely, Martian Manhunter had a lot of control, he could thread a needle with his psychic abilities, but Martian Girl had so much raw psychic energy flowing out of her, it sent shivers down Danny’s spine. It almost lit up his ghost sense, like it was enough emotional energy for him to sense it but not the right type of energy to fully ping for him; it kind of left him wanting his sense to go off to just acknowledge the power the two of them had up there. He glanced at Valerie to see if she felt it too, but no, it was just him.

The Martians lowered to the ground now the robot wasn’t a threat, and Danny heard the girl say, “- didn’t have a mind for us to read, so it’s not like we could have found out what its plan was.”

“There are more ways to get information from an enemy than simply reading their mind,” Manhunter explained, “And if this machine had remained intact, we could have downloaded information from its memory.”

“Oh, hello Megan, of course we could have!” Martian Girl said and facepalmed. “I’m sorry, Uncle J’onn, I shouldn’t have destroyed it like that.”

“Miss Martian,” Martian Manhunter pointedly said, and she meeped and mumbled an apology.

He sighed and said, “You are still new to this. I had years as a m’hontrr before coming to Earth, and more as a private investigator before becoming a superhero. You will learn these things with time and experience.”

Danny glanced over at Valerie, a familiar red glow in her eyes. “See anything useful?”

Valerie sighed, blinking the nanites away from her eyes, “No, there’s too much pollution to get a clear rocket trail, and its power signature isn’t unique enough to stand out.”

“And how would you know that?” Martian Manhunter asked, turning and flying over to them.

“And why are you here? We told everyone to evacuate the area!” Martian Girl said, coming up next to, apparently, her uncle.

“Sorry, it’s my fault,” Danny said rubbing the back of his neck and trying to look embarrassed on purpose, “I wanted to see real superheroes; I just couldn’t help it! You guys are so cool!”

Martian Girl blushed a little herself and tried, and failed, to firmly state, “It was still really dangerous and - you know, shouldn’t do it again.”

“Yes ma’am,” Danny said and gave an over-serious salute. She smiled and nodded at him.

“We should get back to the rest of the class,” Valerie quickly said pushing on Danny’s shoulder, “We don’t want our teacher to get worried about us.”

Danny weaved out from her hand and quickly pulled his notebook out of his pocket, “Actually, real quick. Can we get your autographs?”

Martian Manhunter nodded, and Martian Girl, or Miss Martian as she wrote it, signed her name before handing it over to her uncle to sign as well, and finally back to Danny.

“Good luck on your robot hunt!” Danny called as he dashed to where Valerie was already walking down the street.

Once they got back at the museum, Coach Tetslaff gave them an earful about running off alone during a supervillain attack, they should really know better. The two then learned it was going to be about three hours before the students of Casper High were allowed back into the museum; security needed to do a routine check to make sure nothing was stolen in the confusion. Coach Tetslaff decided the kids could go to the library to get a head start on their projects or go for lunch early, but made it abundantly clear that Dangerous Robot Attacks will not excuse them from doing their reports.

>><< 

The boy had felt weird to M’gann. She almost didn’t notice it, after her own guilt of messing up by destroying the robot and the chaos and fear she still felt from both herself and everyone around them at the beginning of the fight. It was odd enough that she hadn’t sensed any fear from either of the two teenagers, but she wasn’t sure what counted as a scary experience for the normal human teenager. It was similar to how the rest of the team was, so maybe this was just something teens on Earth were used to? But her uncle had heard the girl say something strange, and when he and M’gann went to see who had been watching their fight, she’d gotten a strange aura from the boy.

He had dark hair, light skin, and blue eyes, and he wore a white t-shirt with red stylized Saturn-like planet symbol in the center, and normal looking jeans despite the notebook he’d managed to stuff in one of its pockets. Very normal in appearance. But, the unusual thing was that he seemed to put out an aura of – it wasn’t quite emotion, but it wasn’t not emotion – and if it was emotion then it was so extremely raw and concentrated compared to most humans, like there wasn’t anything physical keeping the emotions in, or no, that’s not it. He just wasn’t quite… Solid? Human? No, no. She could see he was definitely solid and human, but there was just something off about him.

And the girl he was with. She wore a yellow tank top and an orange skirt with thick gold bracers on each arm and a red backpack, that seemed off somehow, but M'gann hadn't seen a lot of backpacks yet to be sure. She had dark skin and hair, but her eyes seemed to change color the closer she got and M’gann couldn’t tell if they were a shade of red or brown or green - or somehow switched in between. But she didn’t feel unusual to other humans, no matter how inhumanly her eyes behaved, and who was M'gann to say that human eyes couldn’t change like that?

But then again, Uncle J’onn seemed to have sensed something off too. He psychicly told her that he suspected the two might be involved with the robot, perhaps sent there to observe how easily the Martian duo could dispatch with it. He asked her to follow them to see what they were doing in the city while he tried to find clues off the remains of the robot.

M’gann wasn’t sure if he actually thought the teens were important or if he was just getting her out of the way after her screw-up. While the psychic link was a lot clearer on Earth, there was also an expected level of polite, what she deemed, “not looking”, not just for normal humans, but other psychics as well. She’d learned from the team too, that entering anyone’s mind without express permission and forewarning was not a good thing to do and could even hurt a human, or Kryptonian, who wasn’t expecting it. And Uncle J’onn wanted her to practice vocalizing her words more and only use a psychic link to communicate with other heroes. There were still so many rules she needed to get used to on Earth.

She followed the two humans to The Chicago Museum of Anthropology. She’d gone there with Uncle J’onn for one of her first days on Earth; it gave her a basic understanding of the history of humanity, how the species and society developed on Earth. She’d enjoyed the visit.

She stayed at a distance and morphed into her human form before venturing closer. She watched as they stayed with a group of about twelve high school students under the supervision of a large, muscular woman who liked to give orders. The group of students soon dispersed, apparently they’d come to the museum for a school project but the museum would be temporarily closed.

She quickly hurried to close behind her two targets, she wasn’t going to lose them. This was her first solo mission on Earth, she had already messed up with the robot, she wasn’t going to disappoint her uncle again by letting her targets get lost in a crowd. She got close enough, she herd the boy say, “Did you pay for the provided meals?”

“No. Full offense to Tetslaff, I do not trust her taste in food,” The girl responded.

“Yeah, I bet she’s taking the poor idiots who signed up for it to a sports bar or something,” the boy said and took out his phone, “The restaurant finder app I downloaded so we could find places that were vegan friendly for Sam doesn’t have to be used just for vegans. We can put in whatever kind of food we want and it’ll find something for us.”

“Anything but burgers,” the girl said.

“There’s an amazing pizza place a couple blocks down this street,” M’gann said behind them, and suddenly realized - she was just supposed to be listening this conversation. Hello, Megan! How could you mess this up already!

All three stopped and the two of them turned around to give her funny looks. “Sorry, I was just… uhm… also hungry and trying to think of a place to eat! And I’m – I…”

No, no, you’re making it worse! She panicked and suddenly shouted, “Do you want to be friends with me?”

The two stared at her in shock, then the boy made sure his friend was looking at him before he gripped his hands in the air in front of him. The girl shook her head, raised an eyebrow, and held a hand towards M'gann. The boy nodded and smiled and repeated his hand movements from before and then tapping his thumb and pointer finger together twice and rubbed one hand over the side of the other? Then, for some reason, the girl sighed and nodded.

The boy turned to M'gann and smiled as he said, “I like pizza.”

“Yeah, pizza’s good,” The girl added, dryly, each word, taking effort to but still, becoming less hostile, more friendly. “You live around here?”

M’gann smiled, she wasn’t going to fail. All she had to do was keep an eye on them, right? And it wasn’t like she didn’t want more human friends. “No, but my uncle does. I’ve visited him a couple times now, so I know where some of the good places are. I’m Megan, by the way. Megan Morse.”

The girl looked unimpressed, but held out her hand for M’gann to take. “I’m Valerie and he’s Danny. We’re not from around here either.”

“Oh? Then what brings you to Chicago?” M’gann asked as she shook Valerie’s hand. She used the physical contact as a bridge - a cover to scan the surface level of thoughts in her head without her knowing. There wasn’t anything too bad. Valerie was suspicious of M’gann’s eavesdropping and on guard against her. She didn’t want to trust some random girl who seemed way too friendly, but not wanting to come off as on guard to tip her off to just how suspicious she was. There was something else, she felt Danny was being too trusting? But that did nothing for her instincts. She reminded M’gann of Robin; his mind also raced with worst case scenarios and possible threats and solutions to those threats, even if they weren’t real.

“School trip,” Danny answered not taking M’gann’s offered hand and making her awkwardly have to put it down again. “We have to make a report-presentation-thing on one of the exhibits at the anthropology museum.”

“Oh, yeah, humans are very interesting,” M’gann said before she could stop herself.

“I love those humans and all their humanity,” Danny said with a snort and Valerie elbowed him.

“So, where’s this amazing pizza place?” Valerie asked and M’gann pointed behind them.

“Down a little further, I don’t know if it’s “amazing” amazing, but I like it.”

“Lead the way, M’lady,” Danny said, and motioned for her to walked next to him. He was starting to remind her of Wally, tying a little to hard to make her laugh, but still succeeding.

The three made their way down the street where M’gann had pointed; Danny talked a lot while Valerie watched M’gann with wary eyes. They were from a smaller city called Amity Park, northwest of Chicago and surrounded by a lot of wilderness, near Lake Eerie, with two E’s.

Danny chuckled at his own joke, then asked, “So, did you see that superhero fight? I didn’t know Martian Manhunter had a sidekick, but she seems pretty cool.”

M’gann tried to hide her blush and lie, “I didn’t get a good look at it. It can be pretty dangerous to get too close.”

“What do you know about them? Martian Manhunter and Miss Martian?” Valerie said her first thing since they started walking together.

M’gann thought for a moment about what she could and should say. “I’ve seen them around and heard the news talk about them. I don’t know if she likes being called a sidekick though, I know that other heroes don’t like it. Like Robin and Kid Flash.”

Valerie rolled her eyes, “She’s fighting crime with Martian Manhunter, wearing a matching outfit, and has a matching name all for the purpose of learning how to be a superhero from him, right?”

“Well, I guess so,” M’gann admitted. Is that what a sidekick is? M’gann thought there was a translation issue or something, that it was an insult. Why do Wally and Red Arrow hate it so much?

“Then she’s a sidekick, and there’s nothing wrong with being a sidekick,” Valerie confidently said and M’gann decided that she was right.

“And! It’s a good idea to learn from people who’ve been doing it longer than you and have more experience.” He gave Valerie some kind of look as he continued, “Even if you’re the same age, the extra time spend doing a thing can make one person a lot better at it.”

M'gann understood that, the rest of the Team were way better than she was and all of them are younger than she is.

Valerie raised her eyebrow at Danny, “Even if the newer person does more training than the older one because she actually takes being a hero seriously?”

M’gann looked between the two of them and asked, “I’m sorry, are you still talking about the Martians?”

Danny shook his head, “Sorry, there are heroes in our town too. Phantom, who’s been a hero for over a year and a half now, and Valiant, who’s only just started being a hero.”

“But she’s a better hero even though she’s newer,” Valerie added quickly to Danny’s explanation.

“You think she’s a better hero,” Danny corrected, “But I think she’s still really wild, overly violent, and messes up a lot. Valiant doesn’t have to try to intimidate everyone she thinks is a bad guy, it’s better being friendly sometimes. And Phantom does take it seriously, he’s just having fun while being a hero.”

“Valiant is just driven to get the job done!” Valerie defended, “And Phantom goofs off too much. Not everything needs to be pun, you can just catch the bad guy and be done with it, no jokes necessary.”

“Excuse you, puns are an artform,” Danny said with an overdramatic handwave.

“Oh please,” Valerie said exasperatedly.

M’gann laughed, they really reminded her of Wally and Robin; they must have been best friends for a long time now. They finally reached the pizzeria her uncle had taken her to when they’d had their trip to the anthropology museum. It was a quaint little family run place that was pretty emptied out. It should have been the second half of the lunch rush, but the robot attack must have scared everyone off.

“So, do you know how old she is?” Valerie asked as the three ordered their food.

“Sorry?” M’gann asked, she’d been distracted wondering what was a normal food order for a human. Last time she’s coping Megan’s order from episode 24 , and that was apparently too much food for a normal human teenage girl.

“We were just talking about how it doesn’t matter how old you are,” Danny said, and M’gann couldn’t tell if he was trying to avoid their previous argument or still trying to win.

“She’s the Martian equivalent of a teenager,” M’gann said, but realized halfway through that, a human wouldn’t know that. “Probably.”

Danny looked at her with wide eyes, “Really? So Martians really do age at a different rate than humans? That’s so cool!”

“You might too,” Valerie said under her breath, but Danny ignored it and M’gann didn’t understand what it meant.

“Do you know how long she’s been on earth?” Danny asked with growing excitement as they sat at a booth in the corner; the two of them on one side with her on the other.

M’gann couldn’t resist feeling that same excitement, very few people showed interest in her normal life. “Yeah, about three months!”

 “How do y- I mean, does she like it here?” Danny asked, his excitement becoming so strong, M’gann didn’t think anything of his tripping over his words.

“I re- really think she likes it.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow at her, “Why do you think that?”

M’gann floundered for a moment, “Uh, prob- probably because she’s still here. Like, if she could get to Earth, then she could get back to Mars, but she’s chosen to stay.”

Valerie gave her an oddly intense look, “Is that really how you know?”

“I bet she has a lot of friends here,” Danny said, seemingly saving M’gann from answering, before he added, “I mean, you are really friendly and I like you well enough.”

M’gann blushed, “No, no! I’m not…”

“You don’t hide it very well,” Valerie said and M’gann dropped her head in her hands.

“Oh, come on, don't be hard on her!” Danny said and playfully shoved Valerie's arm, “I only knew because you have the same, like, aura as Miss Martian. If you hadn’t come up to us so soon after we met you in costume, I wouldn’t have made the connection. And don’t let Val get to you, she only realized after I pointed it out.”

Valerie glared at him as she pulled her wallet out again and passed some money over to Danny. “I had all the clues though, and would have put it together eventually. Unlike you, I don’t cheat.”

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” M’gann had to ask while peaking between her hands. She can’t believe she messed up this much in one day. Who knew some humans could read Martian auras?

“Of course not! We’re not snitches,” Danny said, and shared a glance at Valerie, who shook her head violently and mouthed the word “no”. Danny shrugged and turned to M’gann to whisper, “We’re actually in a similar situation.”

M’gann blinked at them, and was just about to ask what he meant when there was an explosion. The front wall of the pizzeria was blasted open and a robot that looked exactly like the one they’d seen earlier stepped through the hole. Its featureless face locked onto M’gann; it lifted one of its blasters and shot a ball of hot plasma at them.

All three teens ducked under the table and Valerie asked, “Didn’t you just junk that guy?”

“It must be a new one!” M’gann said as another blast tore through the wall behind them, shattering the plastic table and dropping a pile wall and roof on top of them. A second robot stepped through the new hole in the wall and locked onto M’gann.

M’gann had somehow ended up on top of the rubble, but Danny wasn’t visible and she saw Valerie’s arm sticking out from under a chunk of table for a moment before it gave a thumbs up and was pulled completely under. She did a quick psychic scan the pizzeria, there was only the three of them and the robots in the building. Her eyes glowed red and her skin shifted to Martian green, her face became slightly less human proportioned and her red and white cloths turned into her hero costume. She telekinetically lifted herself from the rubble and motioned to lift the debris off her new friends, but they acted before she could.

Danny, or who she assumed was Danny, phased through the rubble and floated above it. If she hadn’t been looking at his face moments ago, she might not have recognized him. He was the same general size and build, but subtle changes. He had a sharper chin and ears and nose, and even sharper teeth, but he also had bigger, rounder eyes that glowed a toxic green. His hair was the same length, but so pure white, it looked more like mist than strands. His clothes changed too; his t-shirt and jeans had been replaced by a jumpsuit. It was mostly black but with a big white rectangle around the neck that became a little thicker and lest plastic-like as it curved over his shoulders. There were white gloves that reached half way up his forearms, and a pair of white patches on his elbows that looked to be made of the sturdier white material around his shoulders. Thick white lines went from his armpits down the sides of his torso to a white plastic looking utility belt. His boots were white too, coming up to half his calves and having patches of the sturdy white over his knees. There was a hero symbol over his heart, a white P where the long straight side of it looked almost like it was either on fire or fading into mist. Phantom.

At nearly the same time, the rubble shifted and some of the smaller bits flew out in different directions and something that looked like a robot stood up. A black helmet that encircled her entire head with only a red triangular faceplate breaking up the black, except for small lines that seemed to mimic the look of computer circuits that branched off the sold red into the black. The small pattern pulsated red light from a set of red triangles on the center of her chest, one solid while the other was a thin line around it. There, the pattern branched off in all directions, but with specific places where the red energy settled into solid lines that didn’t fade with the pulsing energy. Two solid red triangles on her shoulders, mimicking shoulder pads, and a thick red line around her waist like a belt that had a sharp downward point in the center that echoed the points of the triangles on her chest. There were also red lines around her wrists and calves that made it look like she was wearing gloves and boots. It was like she was covered in a black and red circuit board, but after a moment, the red pulsating glow of the circuitry faded, leaving her in a mostly black armored suit.

M'gann had been distracted by the sudden appearance of these two and was shocked when Danny appeared in front of her, hands raised in a defensive position as a bast of white plasma shattered across a shield of green energy that suddenly surrounded them. There was the sound of a machine powering up and a blast of red energy shot from a blaster that sprung into existence on Valerie’s arm, the red circuitry around it glowing momentarily before fading to black again. The blast hit the robot that shot at them from across the building. Valerie hit the joint of one of its arms, partially melting it and limiting its movement. Two shots hit the shield behind them, as the second robot moved closer to them through the wall leading behind the pizzeria. It reached its electrified claw towards Valerie.

“Look out!” Danny shouted and lowered the shield so he could fire a blast of green energy at the robot reaching for Valerie, causing it to stumble backwards. But she ignored it and fired at the first robot again, hitting the exact same place as last time and melting off its arm completely.

M’gann used her telekinesis to throw the robot that tried to grab Valerie out the hole in the wall it had come through. Danny flew out after it, firing his green energy at it. She followed outside and saw him flying around erratically. She was worried for a moment before she realized, Danny was too fast for the robot to be able to aim its blasters at him, continually firing into the open sky and missing its target. M’gann decided to take advantage of its distraction and telekinetically tore the blaster arms from the robot’s body. It turned its attention towards her and must have seen her as an easier target. It dived for her and she pushed it back with her mind so it stood frozen in air, rockets blasting with greater force trying to break through the invisible wall she’d put in front of it. Suddenly, it was hit with a rain of green energy balls, they burned holes through its outer shell and melted through its electrical insides. Its rockets failed and it crumbled to the ground in pieces.

The two quickly returned inside to find Valerie in the middle of a sword fight. There were melted stumps where the robot’s blaster arms and left claw arm had been melted off, and Valerie was wielding a black sword made of the same material as her suit that glowed with red energy. She was able to block the two flaming swords that bore down on her with the all the artfulness of a poorly rendered video game opponent. But it had one too many arms for her to keep up with and a clawed arm weaved its way through her defenses to grab onto her shoulder. It tried to send an electrical shock into her, but the black suit turned red under its touch as it absorbed the energy. M’gann could actually follow the energy through the suit’s circuitry over to her sword, that glowed brighter and started to melt through the flaming blades it was pressed against.

M'gann decided that was enough of that and threw the robot against the wall with her telekinesis, and regretted it immediately. The clawed hand had been embedded deeper into Valerie than M’gann had realized, and as it flew across the room, it tore through Valerie’s shoulder, taking some of her suit and skin with it. She cried out in pain and turned to look at M’gann who threw her hands over her mouth.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” She quickly hovered over to Valerie, but she didn’t know what to do about the injury. She didn’t have any medic training yet. It was on her list, and there was even a training session for the team planned for it, but she hadn’t done it yet. How was she going to fix this? Valerie had just risked her life to help M’gann and she’d been repaid by getting her shoulder torn up!

“It’s fine,” Valerie said in a such a firm voice it almost convinced M'gann, but it was clear by the way Valerie moved; it wasn't fine but she didn’t want attention drawn to it. Valerie cautiously walked over to the robot, her sword was somehow pulled into her suit and replaced with a blaster that she trained on the downed robot. When it didn’t react to her coming up to it, she placed her hand on it. M’gann could see the red circuit board pattern spread from the red pad of her hand over to the robot like an infection. After a moment Valerie said, “I have a source, and we should go now.”

Danny nodded and asked, “What did you find out?”

>><< 

J’onn was worried. He sent M’gann to follow the odd teenagers who had watched their fight with the robot much closer than any sensible person would. He knew teenagers were often unaware of the level of danger around them, especially when famous heroes were present, but there was something strange about these two. The girl had something strange in her eyes, something that glowed and changed color, and the boy -  there was simply something wrong about him, something wrong with the way psychic energy moved around him made him seem – less physical somehow, but J’onn couldn’t begin to guess why, what, or how. He sensed no malicious intent from them, if anything, he sensed a strong desire to protect from the boy and a powerful desire to fulfill responsibility from the girl.

He wasn’t sure if M’gann would have been safer following them or staying with him, but this was her first public excursion as his sidekick and he knew for certain that he didn’t want her fighting a robot that seemed tailor made to hurt him. The flaming swords, the hot plasma, the projected electrified field to prevent phasing into them, and no mind to read. The only clues they had were the strange teenagers and a serial number on the hunk of metal that had once been part of the robot. He would trust M’gann not to get too close to the humans or come to him if trouble stirred. She was naive and inexperienced but not an idiot or a pushover. She would keep proper distance, he was sure; reconnaissance was what she was learning with the team after all.

J’onn’s personal computer was patched into a number of databases, and it was a simple task to search for the source of the serial number. It belonged to a robotics company that specialized in custom joint systems. The piece with his serial number had been part of a large order by the Defense Lab of Classified Exobiology, a lab that researched alien life. The D.L.C.E. was a private organization that was owned by a parent company called VladCo. that also owned an advanced technologies development firm, a paranormal research lab, a pop-technologies designing firm, and several other smaller labs and factories, including the company that made the specialized joints. It was an unfortunately common scheme of a company buying from itself to make money; not illegal but shady nonetheless.

J’onn went to the listed address of the D.L.C.E. and found a very normal looking office building. He did a mental sweep of the building but didn’t find anything other than the usual office drudgery. He disguised himself as human, one of his usuals of a white man in a white suit under a beige trench coat and matching fedora, and entered the building. There was a middle-aged woman sitting at the front desk that J’onn didn’t need psychic powers to know was bored.

He pulled out an old police badge and prepared to sweet talk his way past the bored woman. “Excuse me, miss, but I’m from the-”

She didn’t wait for him to finish before pushing a button on a dashboard on her desk, “There’s another goo here for you, Dr. Copen.”

“I told them to give me a few more days!” Dr. Copen seemed to respond from the other side, and then said, “Send them down, I’ll come up with something.”

The woman hummed disbelievingly. She stood up, “Follow me, please.”

J’onn didn’t correct her and followed her down a hall to an elevator bay. She waved her I.D. card in front of a scanner and one of the elevators opened. Once inside, she scanned the I.D. again and the button panel lit up completely before a symbol lit up indicating they were going down. The foundations of the building went deeper than they should have, but eventually, the elevator stopped and they were let out into a large underground laboratory.

A man came up to them in a disheveled lab coat, wild dirty blond hair, circles under his eyes, coffee stains and burn spots on his cloths and arms, a pair of safety goggles pushed up on his head. “Ah, welcome Agent – uh?”

“Operative J,” J’onn provided from the top of the woman’s mind.

“Right, Operative J, sorry, yes, I remember you now.” The man said, “I know I told Director Beta that I’d have results by the end of the week, and while things didn’t go as planned, I assure you, by the end of today, I’ll have something big to show you.”

J’onn scrutinized the man, then probed, “What is this big thing? And why is it worth my time?”

“Yes, Dr. Copen, what have you got?” The woman asked incredulously.

Dr. Copen ignored her as he turned and waved for them to follow, “Earlier today I almost got a subject. The data was inconclusive on why the retrieval unit failed, the hyper connection antenna was damaged somehow before it was able to send any useful information, but I’ve sent out two retrieval units with the same tracking system.”

“Tracking system?”

Dr. Copen grinned and nodded, “Didn’t Director Beta tell you? We got a sample of a an enzyme that’s created when a Martian shapeshifts, we can use it to locate any Martian that has recently changed form, no matter how human they may seem.”

They stopped in front of a large monitor array and the doctor pressed a button and it flickered on. Two robots like the ones that had attacked J’onn and M’gann earlier that day, one with the other in its camera view, they few over the city and started to lower themselves towards … a small pizzeria J’onn recognized.

“Now, so long as whatever interfered with the previous hyper-link connection doesn - uhg…” Just as he said it, and the first robot broke through the front wall of the pizzeria, the camera feed turned filled with static, not receiving a clear image of anything within the building.

“Damn, what is messing with the signal?” The doctor typed furiously at the keyboard under the monitors, there were occasional flashes of clear video.

M’gann was there - and another person in black futuristic armor? There was a clear video, but only of the black armored person shooting the robot to pieces with some kind of arm mounted plasma blaster, before they charged the robot, the blaster somehow being replaced with a sword. After a minute, everything went black. The monitors weren’t off, but they stopped receiving information.

“AGAIN? What are they doing to my retrieval units?” Dr. Copen groaned as he desperately tried to pull data from the robots. He was saving the clearest images of M’gann and the armored person, not enough to identify them, but too close for J’onn’s comfort.

J’onn’s anxiety was increasing, he needed to get to M’gann to make sure she was okay. While the doctor was distracted, J’onn would find a way to destroy the lab. There were plenty of dangerous chemicals lying around; looking back the way they’d come, he saw some large containers with a label warning “oxygen-flammable liquid”. He reached out with his psychic power, only to be suddenly struck in the back of the head and filled with an electric shock. He felt his form revert to its most familiar shape, the form of The Martian Manhunter, the hero he’d created all those years ago.

“Mildred?” Dr. Copen shouted.

“He’s one of them,” The woman said with disgust dripping from the words and a taser pointed at his head.

J’onn’s vision blurred and he felt something latch around his neck. He couldn’t concentrate past the pounding in his head and he couldn’t get to his feet until he felt a hand grab his arm and pull him up. Then he was shoved into a tight confined space, between a wall of glass and a bed of hard metal. Just as he forced control over his movements again, he was suddenly cut off. He could feel his powers being shunted behind a wall, out of reach from him, as energy radiated from the black collar around his neck.

The woman stared in at him, a grimace on her face and the doctor behind her, clearly confused. “Wait, but- My retrieval units? They were just locked onto the Martian signal?”

“There must be two of them,” The woman said, her eyes narrowing and teeth gritting, “It’s multiplied like a cockroach, at this rate, they’ll be crawling all over the place.”

Panic was setting in, not just for the situation he was in, but M’gann was fighting off two Martian Hunting robots by herself, he didn’t know or trust the armored person who could have been working with these people for all he knew. He needed to get out, but without his powers? He was helpless and trapped, and M’gann needed his help! What-

Suddenly, there was an explosion, and the lab filled with thick grey smoke. The black armored person burst from the smoke behind Mildred and slammed her to the ground. Mildred jumped up with the taser discarded for a gun and fired at her assailant, who was apparently bullet proof. J’onn barely caught sight of something glowing green impacting Dr. Copen deeper in the smoke. Suddenly, M’gann was in front of the pod he’d been put in, worry written in her face. She looked around the pod for the way to open it, but she was too panicked.

The grey smoke started turning black and a fire could be seen spreading through the other side of the room. J’onn couldn’t hear what M’gann was saying, but after a moment, there was a boy next to her. He had white hair, green eyes, and a black and white jumpsuit. He phased his hands though the glass front of the pod, grabbed onto J’onn’s clothes, and pulled him through. Once out, J’onn saw M’gann and the person in black (on a flying surfboard?) carry his two captors up through a hole in the ceiling, and the boy flew J’onn out as well.

M'gann and the girl in black left the receptionist and the doctor outside the D.L.C.E. building. The four of them went to the roof of the building across the street from the D.L.C.E. and they watched as first responders put out the fire.

“Thank you,” J’onn said as the boy set him down. It was interesting, the way the boy flew was different from the way J’onn flew. The boy seemed to have gravity simply not affect him vs a Martian's telekinetic flight.

“No problem, Valiant?” The boy said, hovering back and allowing the girl in black to approach him.  She reached up and pressed the red pads on her fingers to the black collar around his neck, and after a moment, it clicked and came off.

“Thank you as well,” J’onn said.

“Uncle J’onn, are you okay?” M’gann asked rushing forward for a hug as the girl in black stepped back and examined the collar.

He returned her hug and looked her over, “Yes, and you?”

M’gann smiled broadly, “Yeah, but –“ She looked at the girl, “Are you sure you’re okay, Valiant?”

The girl rolled her shoulder, and when she spoke her voice was slightly distorted through her helmet, “I said it’s fine.”

“Her suit takes care of stuff like that,” The boy said, “It’s a pretty cool piece of technology.”

Valiant, as the boy called her, growled, then sighed. “Now that this is taken care of, we have our other work to do, Phantom.”

“That’s right, you two have to get back to the museum,” M’gann said and smiled at them.

“Is there anything we can assist you with? It would be rude for us to not thank you for your help,” J’onn said, both from honesty and curiosity. He wanted to learn more about these two teenage heroes. They had to be the two from earlier, Phantom had the same somewhat ethereal bend of psychic energy around him as the black haired boy they’d seen earlier.

“Oh, no, we’re literally just here on a school trip. We’re supposed to do our own work,” Phantom supplied. “But, it was super cool meeting you!”

Valiant took a step towards J’onn; he couldn’t see her face through her helmet, but he could feel an intensity radiating from her. She took a deep breath and said, “If you’d like to repay us, then I’d like to make a request.”

Phantom gave her a questioning look, “We don’t need a reward or anything.”

Valiant nodded in agreement, “But we do need training.”

“He’s already got a sidekick! And a pretty cool one, I might add,” Phantom winked and M’gann blushed. "He doesn't need to waste time on us."

“I would not mind an occasional additional tagalong. Though, there are other’s out there who would better suit being your mentors," he glanced over Valiant, "such as experts in human technology, that I can introduce you to.”

J’onn felt the sudden connection of a psychic link, Do you think they could join the Team?

He looked at M’gann and replied, I will speak with Batman about the matter. But there is no guarantee that he will agree to it.

She giggled happily, then pulled a cell phone out of her pocket, “Uncle J’onn just got me this, I’d love to have your numbers, maybe we can team up or have pizza together again sometime?”

Phantom blinked at the two of them, then widely smiled, “That’d be cool!”

There was a second where J’onn saw something in Phantom’s eyes. He ventured a guess, “Did you hear any of that?”

Phantom paused in typing his number into M’gann’s phone, taking a second to process what had been asked and responded with, “Were you talking?”

Phantom went back to typing as J’onn clarified, “You looked at us, each in turn, as we had a psychic conversation.”

“Oh!” Phantom said as he handed the phone to Valiant, “I could tell you were doing something. Like, I felt you using your powers, but I didn’t know what.”

“I see.” J’onn would have to investigate further. If Phantom could sense the use of psychic powers, and it seemed those with psychic powers could sense him, then learning to work together could be an immense advantage when devising countermeasures to either ability. As it stood now, though, J’onn was a little proud. It was hard to get his niece out of her shell; he’d learned from his recent call with his sister that M’gann’s life on Mars had been a hard one, but here she was, making friends remarkably quickly and easily. Even if Batman didn’t agree to them joining the team, even if there wasn’t the possible advantage of training with someone who could sense their psychic abilities, J’onn would keep an eye on his niece’s new friends.

"I'll call you next time I visit Chicago!" M'gann said as they prepared to fly off.

Valiant paused on her hoverboard just over the edge of the building, "I guess you're not too bad. We'll have to bring you down to Amity some time too."

"You'll have to come around a lot actually," Phantom said, "I need you to tell me all about space and Mars and how you got here, and-"

"Okay, space boy, let's get going," Valiant said, grabbing Phantom by the scruff of his jumpsuit.

Then Phantom shout to the heavens as he was being dragged off, "I love having an alien friend! Please text me all the time!"

Yes, J'onn was definitely keeping an eye on these kids.

[junosswans]

Batfam headcanons: Report Writing

I was thinking about nonsense then it occured to me "how would the batfam write their mission/patrol report?" Like, they must have very distinct personal style that you could recognise even through the standard bat-computer font. So I wrote this!

Dick: When Dick was still Robin, he absolutely HATED writing reports. "I write enough reports at school, B-man! Why would you make me write more??" He would attempt to wriggle out of the task by bribing Alfred with snacks or offering to do chores in exchange, because anything is better than sitting straight in front of the computer and typing (they usually indulge him and let him be). He'd also slip in a few swear words and gloss over details when he HAD to write something. His reports were short and written in a slightly childish manner. However, after becoming Nightwing and moving out, his report have made drastic improvement because hey, you definitely get a lot of practice in writing admin papers as a cop. His writing style is now concise and straight to the point, filled with professional jargons and divided in clear bullet points. All the photos are properly numbered and labelled, in a typical forensic science style. (Though admittedly, he still hates writing reports. But it's something that he wouldn't let his siblings know.) He's however, chronically late in submitting his reports, because he always has a lot of things to do and he has a bad case of procrastinating when it's something he dislikes.

Jason: Jason entered the clan with a lot of anxiety (Will I be accepted? Will I ever measure up to Dick?) And a lot of insecurities. So he treats report writing very seriously and is very detailed and thorough. He tries his best to adhere to the format Bruce gave him, and would triple check his spellings and grammars (another insecurity of him). As Red Hood, he still writes his reports (reluctantly) in the same cautious manner, and he would spend a lot of time profiling the victims and the perpetrators, because it always feels personal to him. He sympathises with both sides, understands their struggles and darkness intimately, and it shows in his written report. His reports on the person of interest's background and psychological analysis is always the most detailed and on-point. He writes in paragraphs usually, and he has a broad vocabulary that leans more on the literary side. Tim comments that he feels like he's in highschool lit class whenever he needs to read Jason's report for something, since Jason's prose always has a poetic and emotional tone to it.

Tim: Tim writes his reports dutifully and very seriously, but his seriousness doesn't always translate to a piece of good report. As a kid who has the tendency to ramble, is nosey, AND has photographic memory, Tim's reports are filled with details that nobody knows whether they are necessary. He would go off and transcribe all the dialogues he heard (including the passers-by), list out all the items in the nearby trashcan, and note down how the fast food shop down the corner has a buy-one-get-one-free promotion on hotdogs. He digresses a lot, but since his eyes for details did help crack a case once or twice (definitely more than that), Bruce lets it slip. His formatting are a mess, sometimes using bullet points and suddenly switch into paragraphs and then somehow becomes a tree diagram, his reports are definitely an eyesore (Bruce, regrettably, doesn't let this slip). As Red Robin, he's made a lot of improvements on his formatting (company paperwork does that to you) and is a bit more brief, but he still has the tendency to note down the oddest things in his reports. His reports also has the most amount of photos.

Cass: Cass is still pretty new to this whole writing thing and computer thing, so she gets a lot of leeway in her report writing. She is allowed to hand this work to others (if she's on a teamed mission), or use photos, pictures and handwriting/doodling to make her point (Bruce would later code & transcribe them to make them searchable on the database). Though given the freedom to not do the work (which her siblings are deeply envious of), Cass actually likes to write her version of reports as she treats this as an opportunity to practice her literacy. Her reports look like a collage journal with very sparse, simple writing. She also has the tendency to just put in a few seemingly unrelated keywords and let others figure out the significance behind them. They're usually very insightful and useful to the case. She also likes to draw in her reports, which everyone finds endearing. Babs taught her how to draw scientific diagrams and label the items, which she puts good use to. Since she's very observant to the human anatomy and body language, the family relies a lot on her reading when there is multiple suspects.

Damian: As "the proper heir to the robin title", Damian has a no-bullshit attitude on his reports. He submits them on time, is clear in his writing, and the format is impeccable. He has a very goal-oriented view on things, so his reports tend to focus largely on the outcome of cases instead of the process (a polar opposite to Jason's and Tim's reports). He would write a lot on how and when the culprit was captured, and the consequences that await them, while some other members tend to focus more on the process of deduction and puzzle-solving. Somedays, when he is particularly annoyed with others, Damian would slip in complaints into his reports and make sure everyone KNOWS he's upset. It's like a public call-out post.

Babs: As Batgirl, Babs writes the clearest and most condensed report out of everyone, cause she learned the best from her father. She has a keen eye on analysing material evidence, and would notice the smallest scratch on things and document them faithfully in her report. She likes to use abbreviations however, and that often confuses Damian and Cass ("what does OAN even mean?? Is that a type of wire??"). Sometimes she'd abbreviate the weirdest things just to confuse everyone else and they can beg her to explain them. As Oracle, she doesn't write any reports. YOU write reports to Oracle.

Steph: Steph is passionately against the idea of report writing. In her opinion, if she delivers the result there shouldn't be a need to write pages long of boring, bland descriptions on how that result is achieved. To various degrees of success, she would bribe others into doing the work for her ("work smarter, not harder, baby!") But when she has to write something, she would write in a very casual tone and often types with voice input. Therefore, her reports are filled with odd typos and occasionally hilarious choice of words (not because she couldn't be professional, but she doesn't want to be). Bruce is mostly frustrated but is also secretly glad that she's not forcing herself to do something that she doesn't want to. And she is true that she always delivers.

Duke: Duke is mostly neutral towards the aspect of report writing-- he's not particularly fond of it, but he understands that it is something important. Thanks to his superhuman vision, Duke is very alert in observing his surroundings and the environment. He would map out very detailed diagrams about building structures as well as machine components, which makes his reports very reliable when it comes to any kind of crimes related to alien items and technological innovations. Duke also has a large network from his Robingang, so he's very informed in the rumours and hearsays on the streets. He would include most of what he's heard in his reports so that others could follow up on them at night.

[sexysapphicshopowner]

🤎 Context/AU (Alternate Universe): What would usually be just an intimate night turned into a horrific tragedy

🤎 Lady Dimitrescu x wife!reader

🤎 CW/TW: slight smut?, suggestive language, angst, lesbians, pet names, grief, accidental death/murder, blood drinking, reader is an artist and photographer, Alci is a depraved baby with many issues, bloodlust, mental health issues, no use of y/n, barely proofread

🤎 A/N: I cried whilst writing this- you're welcome

🤎 Notes: No description of reader, this version of Alcina isn't exactly my personal headcanon of her, but more an idea I had for her that I decided to write, I did research for the death scene on a timeline of what it's like to bleed to death and tried my best to apply the different things that happen to the body to this particular fic. I'm in no way a doctor or anything, the best thing I've got is a certification in Forensic Science so I also used my knowledge from that to give what you're about to read

🤎 Word count: 5.2k

The lady of the castle sat at her vanity, scrutinizing every little detail of her face. She studied the wrinkles, lines, and cracks of her features before covering them with makeup, perfectly slipping behind the mask that everyone knew as Lady Dimitrescu. 

She glanced behind her in the mirror at the sound of her bedroom door opening, eyes meeting yours as she applied her lipstick, “Ah, my love, you’re home early.” 

You wasted no time in making your way across the room, slinking your arms over her shoulders as you planted a kiss to her cheek, holding out a photo in front of her, “I had to, look at how my latest pictures of you came out.” 

Alcina's expression remained unchanged, even as you kissed her cheek. Her eyes focused squarely on the photograph. Her gaze swept over the image once, then twice. 

"Hm," she murmured, her eyes wandering back to your face. "You like these?" She asked. The question was innocent enough, but her demeanor suggested something altogether different. 

You deflated just slightly at her dry response, nodding as you studied the photo for yourself, “Of course, I do, love. You look amazing.” 

“You think I look amazing,” she repeated slowly, her voice flat. “And did you think of me when looking at these pictures? Or simply my appearance?” The question was followed up by a long, drawn-out pause. 

“Well?” She leaned forward on the vanity, asking point blank as she met your eyes in the reflection again. 

“I-I....” 

"What? Speak up, don't be modest. I want to hear your thoughts." She purred, her eyes trained on yours. Golden irises gleamed in the candlelight, as she held your gaze steadily. 

You fixed your gaze onto hers, voice sincere as you answered, “I thought of you quite fondly when developing the photos... It’s why I came back home. I wished to be in your presence after seeing your face for so long.” 

Alcina's gaze softened at this. The corners of her lips curled into a smirk as she glanced down at the picture, and then back up to you. "And do you believe me to be a beautiful woman?" She asked. The question was an obvious one, but the vampire wanted to hear the words fall from your own lips. 

You ducked your head, eyes remaining on hers in the mirror as you pressed a kiss to her shoulder, "More beautiful than any man or woman to ever walk this Earth." 

Alcina dimpled sweetly, her lips curling into a pleased grin. She knew she was beautiful. It was a fact- one that you reminded her of regularly. But to hear you describe her as such... The sound of her own ego being stroked tickled a deep, dark place within her. 

"I am glad that you think so, my love," she purred. "You know, there is something I want from you tonight." 

You set the photo down, practically instantly forgetting about it as you brought your hands to her arms, “Yes? Anything.” 

"I want... " Her voice quivered with anticipation, as her gaze swept over your form. "You." Alcina reached up, pressing her delicate fingers against your cheek. "I want you tonight. All to myself." 

A chuckle escaped your lips as you pressed a few open-mouthed kisses to her throat, “Yeah? You want me?” 

"I want to savor every inch of your body." Alcina purred, her voice dropping to a low, husky rumble. She traced a single fingernail down the line of your jaw, trailing towards your chin. "I want you. With every fiber of my being. I want to worship you." 

You let out a hum, nipping at her skin, “Come to bed, Alci... then you can have me.” 

"But I want to have you... right here," she cooed, almost trying to coax you into staying there with her. "I want everyone to know that you are mine. Only mine." The countess grabbed your wrist and hauled you close, trapping you between her and the vanity in one swift motion as her mouth trailed from your neck down to your collarbone, biting down gently on your skin. "Mine." 

You sucked in a breath, clutching her arms for purchase as you adjusted yourself atop the vanity, “Fuck... y-yeah...” 

"Such a good girl," she purred, her other hand snaking its way past your hair to grip onto the nape of your neck. She bit the soft skin of your neck as she nuzzled closer to your ear, her lips brushing against the sensitive spot just behind your lobe as she spoke, "No one will have you. Ever. You belong only to me. Do you understand?" 

Your lady lover had used such possessive and outright aggressive language with you before, but you didn’t notice the cloudy look misting her golden irises as she spoke, your lip nestling between your teeth before you released it to let out a breathy answer, “Yes... only yours...” 

Alcina's lips curved into a pleased grin as her fangs sparkled in the low light. She could do whatever she pleased with you... And you would enjoy every moment of it. She pulled back slightly to gaze down at your flushed face, tilting her head slightly. 

"Good girl," she praised. For a moment, it seemed as if she might kiss you. But her lips instead met your neck in a lingering, passionate kiss punctuated by sharp canines. 

You let out a hiss the second you felt the slight sting of her canines pricking into your skin, “Shit...” 

"You like that, do you," Alcina purred, her grip on your neck tightening slightly as her fangs sank deeper into your skin. Golden eyes glowed in the dim light, pupils dilated before they narrowed in on their prey. "How does it feel to be at my mercy?" 

"A-Alci.... please...." 

Her answer was a slow, drawn-out purr as she withdrew a single fang before she bit down again, her mouth a suction that fed from the sweet blood as she pulled you deeper and deeper into her hungry embrace. She moaned, eyes growing half lidded as the taste of you on her tongue sent waves of pleasure through her veins. 

Your brows knit together, hands gripping her arms tighter as you felt a lot more pain than you usually did when you would allow her to drink from you, “Alci.... hurts....” 

She simply let out a hum as she tilted her head slightly, your back now resting against the vanity as she was hunched over you like a true predator. You were pinned under her as she continued to drink from your neck. 

“Does my little blood bag feel woozy,” Alcina asked, voice taunting and holding a sort of just slightly playful mockery. She hummed with her every suckle, as if savoring the taste of you. Her nails trace against the back of your neck, her touch as sharp as a razor. 

You struggled against her hold, tapping her shoulder repeatedly as your vision began to go a bit hazy, “B-baby... please... don’t...” 

“Please what, my love,” she purred her lips curling into a playful smile, attaching right back to your neck as she continued to drain you of your life force. 

You were always so much sweeter than her other maidens... The taste of your blood... It was enough to bring an ache to the core of her very being. She couldn’t get enough of it. 

Even as you tapped her shoulder, her lips remained pressed against your skin. She was in heaven, and this was her idea of making love. 

You on the other hand were beginning to panic. You didn’t find your wife when you looked down into her eyes. 

No, you didn’t know who or what you were looking at. 

Her eyes were almost venomous, pupils narrowed to slits. 

Her usual gentle, reverent touch was nowhere to be found, nails and fangs stinging against your skin. 

You felt powerless struggling against your 9-foot lover. 

Your voice gurgled in your throat, her teeth having torn the skin of your neck open in search of getting better access to your vein that she was currently drinking heavily from. 

Your heart rate is beginning to accelerate, something that doesn’t help you, but makes it much easier for your bloodthirsty wife to bleed you dry as blood is now pumping directly to the area where her mouth is accompanied by the wound from her tearing into you. 

A lightheaded, truly woozy feeling begins to set in along with a sudden wave of fatigue. 

You can’t focus outside of the blaring worries in your mind that if you don’t bleed to death from the gaping hole in your neck, your wife will certainly take care of drinking the rest of it. Your skin has gone pale, sweat beading every inch of it as your body is trying to fight back against the losses, as well as you with your pushing against her, trying to get her off of you. 

All the while, Alcina is continuing to feed. Pulling more and more of your vitality as she drank, her body was practically shaking with ecstasy, eyes rolling back as she drew deeper and deeper from the vein. 

Primal growls rumbled out of her throat, her breathing heavy and hot against you. 

She was far too sucked in to realize what she was doing. She was killing you. Her love, her life, her light. 

Alcina would never. 

And yet... she was. 

With every beat of your heart and pull of her mouth suctioned to your neck... she was pushing you closer and closer to the cliff that was death. 

There’s too many feelings, too many thoughts. 

You feel spaced out, unaware of what’s even happening anymore, yet hyperaware as your anxiety is spiking to astronomical levels. Your breathing is shallow, your pushing growing weaker and weaker as your hands and feet begin to tingle. 

You’re dying. 

You know it. 

You can’t help but think about your life. 

How you came to the castle in the first place. 

You were commissioned for your work. You were a wonderful portraitist, a very skilled painter who was very adept and well-known for your art- especially your portraits. 

Originally, it was Bela who’d begged her mother to have you called into the castle to do her portrait. 

Then Daniela just had to have hers done as well because ‘look how good she painted Bels’. 

Cassandra begrudgingly asked if you’d paint her as well, only after being teased by Dani for being the only one of the three sisters to not get herself painted. 

It was after finishing the three works that you finally met the ever elusive and lady of the castle- Alcina Dimitrescu. 

Alcina took a liking to you. 

Being a patron and lover of the arts herself, she found herself drawn to your talents as a painter, sketch artist, and photographer. You also both had a shared love of jazz and blues music- a fact that led her to realizing her feelings for you. 

Your first date was in her old music room. The two of you played a few pieces on the piano together before you sat back to let her sing for you, taking pictures to use as reference for later sketches that you would gift to her after five months of courting between the two of you. 

It was a whirlwind romance, the two of you swept up in never having had a love like this before. She was the darkness to your light, the moon and stars to your sun. 

She was your muse. You were her beloved, her most devoted. 

Your marriage was a surprisingly small occasion, just a little ceremony held between the two of you, the other three Lords, and Mother Miranda as the officiant. Bela was the maid of honor, Cassandra carried the rings, and Daniela was the flower girl. It was sweet. 

Alcina herself was sweet. 

So how did things progress to here? 

There’s a pounding ripping through your skull, a headache- or perhaps migraine would be a better word- like none you’ve ever experienced before. 

How long had this been going on? 

It felt like hours. 

In truth it wasn’t more than about 4 minutes. 

Next came the ringing. A terrible and tinny noise in your ears, blocking you from hearing anything else. 

It was coupled with the terrible spinning you seemed to feel. It was disgusting. 

And once again- to make matters infinitely worse for you- you couldn’t even speak or fight back anymore. You were essentially limp within her hold at this point, almost resigning yourself to your fate now. 

Within another few seconds, your sight grows hazy, darkness seeping into the edges of your vision as your eyes turn up to the ceiling, no longer able to watch your wife. 

Then comes the sweet release of being unconscious. 

Like the world’s sickest fade to black, you passed out in her arms, not realizing how close you now were to death. 

You suffer a heart attack, the organ unable to handle the strain your wife’s drinking has now put on your body. 

Just like that... it’s over. 

In a little under 5 minutes Alcina had killed the love of her life. 

She didn’t stop when your body went limp underneath her, heart no longer pounding in your chest against her. 

No, she pulled away once the flow of blood into her mouth stopped. 

In her feeding frenzy, Alcina hadn’t truly known what she was doing to you. As the taste of your blood faded from her lips, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the haze of the drunken feeling that came along with drinking blood. 

What she found before her left her horrified. 

Cradling your still body, the countess couldn’t come to terms with the idea of you having died at her hands. 

She pressed a few kisses to your forehead in an attempt to wake you. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried, trying to will you back to life. 

She held your body close, tears continuing to brew despite her attempts to fight them back. For the first time in a while, she felt a surge in emotion.... Grief. 

This wasn’t what she had wanted. She had no intention of hurting you.... And yet, the damage had already been done. 

She brought her other hand up to your cheek, fingers brushing against your smooth skin in a last attempt to try and wake you. 

"You can't leave me..." she whispered, sobbing now at the realization. But your heart beat against her chest no longer. And your eyes were now shut, forever. 

After a few minutes of letting her tears fall, she wiped away her tears and straightened up, her red eyes staring straight ahead in silent mourning. The countess closed her eyes tightly and inhaled slowly and deeply, trying to process the loss. She also couldn’t take the sight of her face in the mirror. Your blood and her smeared lipstick staining her stark white skin. It wasn't long before her face returned to its cold and emotionless facade. 

She stared through her reflection rather than at it as she murmured, “How disappointing.” 

Her demeanor became one of stark detachment, just like that of the stone-cold killer that the soft side of her now believed herself to be. It was almost as if she hadn’t been in love with the now dead woman in her arms in the first place. 

Her hands tightened around your body as she lifted your limp form in her grasp with ease. Without much ceremony, she began to walk towards the window at the back of the chamber. 

“Now, dear one,” she began, “You shall be as one with the night.” 

As she reached the open window and stared down at the dark landscape below her, the vampiress seemed to contemplate. 

In her arms lay the woman she once called her safe space. 

Her eyes narrowed as she considered her next move. Without a second thought, she tossed your body out of the window. 

The wind howled as the form tumbled down to Earth. You plummeted through the air in a graceful spiral, the fall over so quickly that if there were even still a shred of life within you, you did not suffer for long. Your body impacted the ground with a soft thud, crumpling in a broken heap. 

In a swift moment, the countess closed the window and drew the curtains with finality. The body was nowhere to be seen, and the chamber wa just the way it was before you ever arrived. 

With a heavy sigh, Alcina finally allowed herself to sink onto her stool. For a while, she remained still in her seat, staring at the mirror in empty contemplation. 

As she sat alone in the room, she wondered to herself. 

Why had she done such a thing? 

A soft hand rose to her mouth as she wept for a moment, once again wishing to take back the events. But she knew deep down, there was no turning back. 

Eventually, Alcina rose from her chair and crossed over to the bed. She lay down on the soft mattress, staring up at the moonlight which spilled in through the curtains of the other windows in the bedchamber. 

For some time, she stared up at the ceiling, her expression blank. But slowly, the grief she felt earlier started to grow within her again. 

Unable to hold back her tears any longer, the vampire broke down into heavy sobs. She’d never loved anyone as she did you. But that love had been her exact downfall. 

She’d been blinded by her love for you and your trust for her, thinking she had the self-control not to hurt you. Yet and still, she did. 

“Why?” She whispered into the moonlight. “Why did you have to love me so much?” 

The countess released a loud, mournful wail as she cried into the night. A part of her wish so badly that she could take it all back. But she knew it was already too late for regrets. 

“It’s done,” she mumbled, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to calm herself. But her heart would not follow suit. It continued to ache for you. 

Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep, but the night only brought nightmares which haunted her rest. 

The countess awoke the next day with a start. For a moment, she almost didn’t recognize where she was. Almost didn’t remember what had happened. Then the memories from the previous night returned. 

“No....” Alcina whispered. She turned over in her bed to face the empty side of the mattress. In your place, there was only a memory. “No....” 

Once again, the tears started to flow. “Why?” She asked herself. 

Alcina sat up in her bed, staring ahead in silence. Though your absence gnawed at her heaviy, the memories she shared with you only made the grief worse. Your loss was more than any one heart could bear, but for a vampire... Your loss would be eternal. 

“It’s not fair,” she told herself, her voice hoarse and quiet. 

“I don’t want to forget you. I want you back... so that I can feel your lips against mine... hear your soft whispers in my ear... know that you were real....” 

Before she could fall too deep into the guilt that laced itself through her grief, the phone rang. 

She answered the phone with a heavy heart, not expecting anyone but Mother Miranda to be brazen enough to call at this time. I couldn’t be but maybe an hour after sunrise. 

It was Karl. 

Instead of being greeted by his usual infuriating and condescending tone that usual was also paired with his crass words that were typically used to hurl insults at the countess- his voice was solemn as he spoke. 

The sound sent a chill down her spine, cheeks still damp with tears as she listened to him, “Hey, Alcina... A couple of my Lycans brought in a body last night.... It’s... It’s your wife...” There was a pain in his voice that Alcina had never heard from him before. 

“Do you want me to bring her over for a proper burial, or...?” 

Alcina was thrown back by the question. Before she could reply, grief and guilt simultaneously struck her like lightning, her legs turning to jelly beneath her. A hand shot to her mouth, as if to shield herself from hearing any more words. 

"No..." 

It was the only reply that escaped her lips. In her eyes, she could see it all again... 

Your body plummeting through the window, your face pale, your limbs broken. That look on your face as you died... 

She bit her palm, trying to distract herself from the horror. 

Heisenberg called out when the vampiress didn’t say anything, “Are you alright? What happened to her?” 

"Karl, please," Alcina pleaded, her voice coming out hoarse as if she had just wept for hours. The countess wanted nothing more than to fall back into bed and drown in a sea of grief, unable to face the truth of your death once more. 

"I... I cannot talk about it. Please, just... bring her body to me so I can bury her. There is no need for any of us to speak of what happened... it's better that way," she pleaded, her voice filled with misery. 

“I’ll be there in an hour.... I’m really sorry, Alcina...” 

The countess was silent for a moment. For the first time, she felt truly powerless. She didn't wish to remember the way you died at her hands, and yet as she awaited your body... The pain and guilt was suffocating. 

"Thank you" she replied quietly, a single tear rolling down her cheek. 

What would your family think? Your friends, your loved ones... Would they ever know the truth? They were going to have to. In some way, this was her fault. 

No, she wanted a funeral. And you would have it. 

One hour. 

That was all that separated Alcina from her greatest mistake. But in this time, she did what she could to prepare for your arrival. 

A casket- made of elegant wood and lined with elvet of a deep garnet hue- was prepared. It wasn’t new. You had made it saying she’d need somewhere to put you when your time in her life finally expired. 

She couldn’t help but cry as she remembered how happy you two had been together. How much you had loved her. 

Your hair and body was washed, a crown of roses placed in your hair- Alcina's handiwork. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she stared at your beautiful face in the casket. She could almost hear you whispering in her ear... Telling her that you loved her and just how much as you often did. She wanted nothing more than to hold you one last time and kiss you deeply. But as she reached out to do so, a dark feeling came over her. 

The truth was hidden in that darkness. 

“Please.... forgive me,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheek. 

She had to excuse herself from the little ceremony to what used to be your shared room. 

She ended up at her vanity, gripping the edge of it before her eyes fell on the last picture you had ever taken of her. The one you had brought with you from the night before. 

It was a portrait of Alcina in her most vulnerable state. Her hair disheveld, her eyes hazy as she had just awakened from sleep when the photo was taken. 

Still, the photo was one of the best memories you’d held of her. 

She was beautiful, regardless of how much sorrow and grief had taken hold. 

Holding onto the photo for a moment, Alcina turned it over repeatedly, a faint smile crossing her red lips. 

“I’ll see you again one day, my love,” she whispered, her voice choked with tears. 

“We haven’t said goodbye yet.” 

After a long few long moments of staring at your portrait of her, the countess dried her tears and returned to the casket room that held you rcasket to stare down at your still face. 

The tears came again, but she was too far down the rabbit hole to turn back. 

With her hands, Alcina closed your eyes with all of the love she held for you. She couldn’t bare your gaze any longer. But she couldn’t bear your silence either... 

As Alcina kissed your cheeks with gentle tenderness, memories of your first kiss came rushing back to her. It was nothing but a distant shadow now. 

In all the centuries that she had walked the Earth, Alcina had never felt love like this. She had shared her flesh with countless lovers, but it meant nothing... Not now. 

Because this- you... you were different. 

“Sleep, my love. Dream of our nights spent together.... our passion...” 

Alcina burshed a stray lock of hair behind your ear- chest tightening when your eyes didn’t open at the motion- before she took a step back. 

“We’ll be together again soon,” she promised, a pained smile on her lips. 

The countess stayed with you for a while, the weight of her grief slowly becoming much mor eoverwhelming. But eventually, she had to bring herself together to say her final goodbye before Karl buried your casket. 

She rose from her seat for the final time, looking down on you for a moment. 

“I’ll find you in my next dream.” 

Her voice was barely even audible before she turned on her heel, turning over her shoulder to take one last look at your peaceful face before she withdrew from the room. 

“I love you, dearest. Always." 

Alcina shut her bedroom door and closed every curtain. 

It was the first time in a long time that she had been left alone inside her chamber- neither you nor any of the girls there to come bother her. For so long you had been there.... your soft voice to comfort her... your warm body to hold at night in bed. 

But now- for the first time- this place felt empty, colder, lifeless without you. 

Alcina took a deep, shaky breath as she fought back her tears. 

She approached the window where she ahd so coldly tossed your body out, the chill of the wind stiniging and reminding her of that very moment. 

Perhaps you wished to speak to her. Bid her your own last farewell. 

With this thought in mind, she took a deep breath as she stared out into the night, “If you can hear me, my love, I want you to know...” 

The wind howled loudly as if to answer her words. 

“I will always love you,” she finished, her eyes gazing up at the sky. 

Though the chill of the wind bit at her heart she didn’t bother with closing the curtains back again. She wanted to be as close as possible to where you lay, so that her words could travel further with the hopes of reaching you somehow. 

“I’ll see you some day soon, darling... I’ll see you soon....” 

A few tears found their way from her eyes. At the salty sting, she shut her window, head bowed. 

The wind’s howling died down as she shut the window behind her. She stood in front of it for a moment, as if you were just beyond the curtains. 

A small smile spread across her lips at the thought. 

"Farewell, you magnificent creature," she whispered, as a final tear tumbled down her cheek. 

"My beautiful darling." 

For a second, Alcina's heart stilled. The silence seemed deafening. 

She waited a moment, hoping to hear you speak one last time. 

She only heard the silence of nighttime, and her own soft breath in her chest. 

"If you can hear me," the countess began after a long while. "I hope it's not painful beyond death," she whispered, her voice choked with regret. "I hope that I haven't failed you somehow." 

She was silent for a moment, before speaking again. 

"I'll never forget you." 

A moment passed, and a sigh escaped the countess. She turned around, stepping back into the darkness of her bedchamber. For a moment, the shadows seemed to dance and shimmer, as if your spirit was right there with her. 

The wind whistled outside. No. 

She was going insane. 

"I'm sorry," Alcina whispered, her voice filled with sorrow and guilt. "I should have been more careful. Maybe if I had been a better woman, you'd still be here with me." 

Her voice was thick with grief. 

After a few more moments of silence, Alcina sat down on her bed. 

"I'll tell you about myself," she spoke quietly, her voice almost breaking into tears more than once. 

"My favorite color is dark green. My favorite food is… was… well. You." She chuckled, "I like to read and listen to music. My favorite genre is jazz. My favorite band is… was.. uh. Never mind." 

She fell silent again, taking a second to compose herself. She took a deep breath and continued. 

"My favorite season is fall. I love looking at the orange leaves as they fall to the ground. I love the way the trees change color in the autumn. I remember how when it was still warm enough you would bring the girls and I outside to rake and play in the leaves..." 

Another pause. 

"My favorite time is night. When the birds and animals fall quiet, and the darkness closes in. My father used to say it's beautiful, but I think it's sad. A sort of beautiful kind of sadness... This melancholic time when all is quiet but yet, it isn’t. Wind still blows... trees still rustle... chirps of the daytime become the hooting sounds of owls..." 

She laughed, the sound of her voice breaking her heart a tiny bit. 

"Your favorite time was dawn, wasn't it?" She was speaking to herself now. 

"We shared two things in common, did we not?" 

She continued quietly, "We were passionate about art, and music." Her voice shook a little, tears now rolling down her cheeks. 

"You would have loved to read my poetry, I just know. I remember how you used to ask about it and then I would always tell you that you had to let me see inside your sketchbook first." 

She fell silent again, thinking about her words before speaking again. 

"We were both lonely, and that's why we found each other. I mean, of course, it was thanks to Bela and the girls’ portraits, but in essence our attraction was built out of a sort seeking of solace in one another, no?" 

Alcina's words became softer and softer as she spoke as if she was speaking to you. 

"I know how much you wanted to paint me… how we spoke about it almost every day. Every night before bed you would come in, hands tracing the lines and features of my face... You’d say ‘Oh, Alci... my darling how I wish you’d model for me’..." She chuckled softly. Her chest ached with a thousand needles and pins as she remembered your words. 

"I was always too tired. I wished I could've been a better muse for you, a better woman, a better lover." 

Alcina's voice was breaking, but she still wanted to tell you one last thing. 

"If you hear this," She murmured into the darkness, "I have to tell you..." 

"I love you."

🤎©️ All work belongs to sexysapphicshopowner. Do not use or repost my content in any way without my consent or permission. Thank you! 🤎

🤎 Taglist 🤎:

@certainlynotasimp @trafalgardvivi @love-sugarr @archangeldyke-all

[sillygoose067]

Charles’s Angel(s)

Ch.12

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Author’s Note: FYI, if you haven’t been following along closely since chapter 2, I had the OC be Indian/a brown girl— Just because I felt like we don’t get enough representation. So if you don’t like that, I guess just either live with it, or blur that piece of information out as you go. Also: did I use some random ass generator wheel for some of the super specific information? Yes. Will I change it? Probably not. Did I check if that kinda stuff was even possible? …Mayhaps.

When you finally make it into the restaurant and sit down to order, you immediately spot multiple people, mostly young women, pulling out their phones, trying to (not so) discreetly take photos and videos of the two of you. You could just imagine the headlines and hashtags trending the next day.

Charles is immune to this by now and smiles and waves at some of the phones, and ignores the majority of the others. 

Biting your lip, you scan through the menu. “Charles?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you mind recommending me something? I’ve never been here before”.

“Sure Chéri. Is there anything you don’t or can’t consume? I hate to assume, but I know that lots of Indians are vegetarian”.

“Ah, no. My family and I eat everything, so no worries”.

He orders a Tourte de Blettes for you and a Pissaladiere for himself.

“So. Tell me more about yourself.”

Not knowing how to go about this, you think for a while. “Well, I’m Indian, but I was born in Singapore, and brought up in America”. You count off a finger. “I was certified to be a music producer at a very young age, sometime in secondary school and I have a degree in forensic science. I really love singing, but usually only in my free time. I've actually been working at a producing studio here”. You scrunch your brows trying to recall any interesting details about yourself. “Um, I’m also a dance choreographer for a lot of Korean idol groups and produce music for them too, so I go over there from time to time… I don’t know. What exactly do you want to know?”

When you meet Charles’s eyes again, he’s looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. “You’re so cute, like a little angel. Mon ange” (My angel).

You blush in embarrassment. He asks you more about why you chose your major and what it’s like working with idols while you wait for your meals. “I’d love to hear you sing sometime”.

Just then, the waiter comes with your dishes. Whew, saved by the food! The aromas wafting off the delicious looking dishes are absolutely mouth watering, as if the sights weren’t enough. You begin to split your food in half, and he asks what you’re doing. “Oh- well, my family and I always split our meals equally to try everything, Sorry, I did that out of habit– I can take the piece back–”

“I think I quite like that idea. Here”, He splits his meal and gives it to you as well. 

…

After dinner, the two of you decide to split the bill, because you were unwilling to let Charles pay in full, regardless of whether or not he earned more than you. 

As you walk back home, hand-in-hand and discussing common interests, you find yourself leaning your head on his arm, and later, with his arm around your shoulder. 

When you reach the door to your apartment, he turns to you and moves a strand of hair out of your face. “I liked getting to know you tonight, and I hope you will give me the chance to take you out again”. You make a sound of agreement. Knowing that you aren’t quite ready to have your first kiss yet, you pull him down slightly and get on your tiptoes, kissing his cheek. He smiles and kisses the crown of your head in return, and then ushers you into your home. 

When he leaves, you send him a text. Thank you for the best first date ever.

[thekiltongrammarwriter]

Some Pippa thoughts for today. Enjoy my ramble🫡 University Pippa Bellow

“Quantum Entanglements: Pippa’s Theorem of Love”

Pippa Fitz-Amobi, the girl who usually has her thoughts all organized and neatly cataloged in her brain? Yeah, well, she’s currently experiencing a major system malfunction. And by that, I mean her heart is doing this weird jittery dance, and her words are tripping over each other like clumsy puppies. ‘Okay, deep breaths, Pippa. You’ve faced serial killers, cryptic clues, and academic deadlines. Surely, confessing feelings for a girl can’t be that hard, right? ‘Wrong. So wrong.

One night, while dissecting a particularly baffling case, Pippa glances at you and realizes how captivating your eyes are. It’s not just the mystery that keeps her intrigued—it’s the girl sitting across from her. You frequent the same cozy coffee shop near campus. Pippa orders her usual black coffee, and you prefer a chai latte. One day, as you share a table, Pippa notices the way your fingers delicately hold the cup. The warmth of the drink contrasts with the chill in the air, and Pippa’s heart skips a beat. She wonders if it’s the girl or the caffeine causing her fluttery feelings.

During a lecture, Pippa catches your eye from across the room. The professor drones on about forensic evidence, but all Pippa can focus on is the curve of the your lips as you smile at something Jane from political science says. She wonders if you notice her too. Maybe it’s the way the your hair falls over your shoulder or the softness of your laughter. Pippa’s heart races, and she realizes that it’s not just academic interest anymore. And suddenly, it hits her like a rogue wave: She likes girls. A lot.

Her brain goes haywire. She imagines herself blurting it out mid-sentence to Cara: “Did you know that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell? Also, I think I might be gay.”

Pippa tries to strike up a conversation. “Hey, um, have you read the latest research on cold cases? Fascinating stuff, really. Also, your hair looks—uh, I mean, the research. Yes, the research!” You raise an eyebrow. Pippa’s inner monologue: Abort mission! Abort!

Pippa lies awake at night, analyzing every interaction. Did you smile more when she talked about unsolved mysteries? Was that a flirty laugh or just a regular laugh? Is she reading too much into this? (Spoiler: Yes, she is.)

She Googles “How to know if you’re gay” and ends up in a Wikipedia rabbit hole about sexual orientation theories. It’s like her brain is on shuffle mode.

Pippa stands in front of her closet, agonizing over what to wear. She’s dissected crime scenes in blood-spattered jeans, but this? This is a whole new level of anxiety. She settles on a slightly wrinkled blouse and wonders if it screams “I’m into girls” or just “I overslept.” Pippa creates a spreadsheet. Column A: Your quirks. Column B: Her heart rate when you smile. Column C: Probability of mutual attraction. She calculates the correlation coefficient and concludes that her feelings are statistically significant.

Pippa observes you from a distance. She notices how your eyes crinkle when you laugh, how your fingers tap rhythmically against the table during intense discussions.

She scribbles notes in her detective journal: “Subject exhibits signs of extreme adorableness. Further investigation warranted.”

Pippa rehearses confessions in her head. “Y/n, I’ve deduced that my feelings for you are not unlike a rare unsolved case. Compelling, mysterious, and keeping me up at night.” But when she opens her mouth, all that comes out is, “So, um, do you like Coffee?”

Pippa dissects every text from you. “She used an exclamation mark! Does that mean she’s excited? Or just grammatically enthusiastic?”She consults her best friend, Ravi, who suggests, “Maybe she just likes punctuation.”

Pippa’s mum catches her staring dreamily at you during dinner. She leans in and whispers, “Sweetie, if she’s your Watson, don’t let her be your Moriarty.” Pippa chokes on her peas. Her mum winks and adds, “And wear something nice tomorrow.”

It takes courage and enough chats with Cara, but pip eventually asks you out to to a true crime museum. She’d stumbled over her words, but you had accepted, because she looked so cute with her cheeks red. You both examine bloodstain patterns and discuss alibis.

You lean in and whisper “I think I’ve cracked the case. It’s called love.”

Pippa’s heart rate spikes. She’s pretty sure she’s solved the greatest mystery of all. Now all thanks to you Cara grumbles as she is forced to watch pip flirt with you during chemistry. It goes a bit like this

Pippa leans against a lab bench. “Did you know that neurotransmitters play a crucial role in attraction?You raise an eyebrow. “Really?” Pippa deadpans, “Yes. Dopamine, norepinephrine, and a dash of witty banter. It’s called the Chemistry of Crushing.”

You can hear Cara behind you, “what the hell?” She whispers.

[spicy-dumbass]

Lizzie as The Flash

Recently I started getting really into the CW Flash TV show, and like any poor fool it spiraled out of hand resulting in 8 pages of notes!!

Meet Lizzie, the lead character in the Blue Blur au! Mainly inspired by the life series and empires, Blue Blur is set in the fictional Empire City and follows Lizzie after an accident resulted in her gaining super speed.

More on Lizzie's general story under

Lizzie is a slightly stressed and constantly late forensic scientist working for the Empire City PD. Her parents were killed when she and her brother were children, forcing Lizzie to become her brother’s sole provider before they were taken in by Grian’s family. Jimmy and Lizzie are close, and originally Lizzie joined the CSI unit as a way to help better protect her brother. 

Lizzie and Jimmy were taken in by Grian’s family after a while, Grian effectively becoming a brother to the pair. Grian joined up with the police as a detective after hearing about Lizzie’s plan to join up on her own. Grian and Lizzie are surprisingly close, enough for it to be a problem for the police chief. Grian is the one who always seems to cover for Lizzie when she’s late or missed a call. 

Lizzie was always the sibling most interested in science, so when she heard about the reactor turning on, a major event, Lizzie drags them along with her. Things go sideways when Jimmy’s bag gets stolen and Lizzie chases after them, resulting in her getting stranded when the reactor explodes. In a panic Lizzie attempts to find her brothers, completely drenched and rushing through crowds, but in the end she gets struck by lightning, becoming comatose. 

Lizzie stays under for 9 months before coming out of it in a lab. She’s panicking, she needs to see her brothers, she needs to check on her lab. The scientists (Scar, Mumbo, Gem and Tango) try their best to stop her but she’s already out the door. 

It takes her a moment to realise she was being housed under the labs, and at that point she just starts running, she needs to get to the station. Because Grian would know what’s going on right? She trusts Grian, he’s looked after her brother for ages so he- he. And then she’s just in front of the station. Her heart is pounding and she can barely breath, she makes her way in, still in the clothes she’s collapsed in and spots Grian. 

Grian in shock grabs her, asking what she’s doing here, when she’d woken up? All she says is that she needed to see him, her legs give way and he drives her back to the labs in a panic, with Lizzie barely conscious. Grian goes off on the scientist, to which Mumbo is barely able to calm him down and escort him out. 

Gem is the first one to really ask how she’s doing, Scar and Tango more focused on her vitals than her. Lizzie explains what happened, but Gem is mostly interested in the fact Lizzie said she ran to the station. She’d barely been gone half an hour, with most of that time being taken up by Grian driving her back. Gem checks the soles of her shoes, before panicking and practically ripping them off her, mostly because they’d almost melted to her feet. 

Turns out Lizzie has super speed now, cue main plot.

[matthewfuckinggraygubler]

The Art of Getting to Know · Pt 1

I'm sorry if some jokes don't make much sense in English, as they were originally written in Spanish. I'm not very good at English either, so this might not be the best translation. Sorry! This fanfic is just an experiment, so please don't be too harsh... I'm not a writer; I just want to have fun. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy it!

· Pairing: Spencer Reid/OC · Category: Fluff · Warning: None · Words: 2650 · Parts: Pt 2 · Pt 3 · Pt 4

· Summary : Eli, a psychology expert and old friend of Luke's, joins the UAC as a consultant and quickly bonds with Spencer Reid. As they delve into a complex case, Eli and Spencer find themselves drawn to each other on a deeper level. · Note about Eli: Her neurodivergence is implied but it's never really said. · Spanish on Wattpad. English isn't my first language, be kind!

· Masterlist

· P O V E L I ·

Eli was sitting on the backrest of the bench. She took a sip of coffee and looked at her friend.

—Hey, give me a pastry, Luke. Are you going to eat them all or what? We always have the same fight over breakfast… if I didn’t love him… well, and if I wasn’t so sleepy…

—Haven't you already had one? —the dark-haired man protested.

—Hey! I really hate you sometimes. Don’t move the box away again! —Eli complained as she pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her wavy, black hair. It was quite cold, especially this early.

Sometimes we had breakfast together before work. I work as a professor at the university; I studied psychology and forensic sciences. And Luke… well, he's a criminologist, working in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.

—Seriously, give me a damn pastry. I’m hungry, and you’re such a glutton! —She jumped off the bench and tried to grab them.

—What the…? What do you mean by glutton? What’s that? AHAHAHA

—It means you eat a lot, that you eat everything, smartass… —Eli commented, narrowing her dark eyes.

—Really? Now you’re part of the Royal Academy of Language?

—Since when are you so sarcastic? I hate it when he makes me grumble… seriously, pff… By the way, aren’t you supposed to stay in shape for the FBI, oh “super smarcle agent ”?

—“Smarcle”?

—It’s a play on words, little brother. Do you know what that is? Smarty + muscles —the girl smiled mockingly.

—Uh, you’re so funny, shorty… If you keep laughing, you’re going to choke…

—You love it when I give you nicknames. Smarty is my favorite —she smiled broadly, tilting her head to look at him.

We’ve known each other since we were kids, we’re like siblings. I know he adores me, though sometimes… Well, our relationship is like that. I guess we love each other, but we can’t help it.

—Stop calling me that… I hate it…

—Oh… I’m sorry… did I hurt your little pastry-filled heart?

—Seriously…? hahaha you’re the worst… —Luke shifted and gave her the last pastry.— I knew he would do that… This idiot always makes me smile in the end. —Hey, changing the subject… have you thought about what I told you? Let me talk to my boss, seriously, your help would be great on this case.

—Seriously, Luke, I’m swamped with work…

—Eli… I know it scares you, but on the other hand, you’re motivated to try new things. It’s an opportunity to help a lot of people, and me… come on…- That pouty face… ugh…

—O-Okay… Yeah, yeah, I can do it, but if I get overwhelmed with work, I’ll have to drop it, you know that, right?

—Yes, yes, a thousand thanks, babe! I love you! —And I…

—I know —she said, raising an eyebrow before taking a sip of her coffee, as if it didn’t matter.

—Stop acting tough, dummy…

· P O V L U K E ·

Luke arrived at the BAU and greeted his colleagues, who were already working in the bullpen. He was a little late because he got held up with Eli.

—JJ, his blonde friend, greeted him quickly and commented—: Hey, I hope at least you brought something for breakfast, slowpoke.

—What’s up with all of you today? —Luke laughed—. Stop giving me a hard time for a bit, will you? Sometimes a guy has a heart —he said, pouting.

—All of you? —JJ’s eyes widened—. Uh, who’s the girl giving you a hard time…?

—Very funny, JJ… I wish it were that kind of thing —Luke joked with a smile.

Spencer chuckled, watching the scene, and Rossi held back his own jokes.

—I’ve been with Eli. She’s like my sister, so cut it out with those kinds of comments, will you? It’s… ugh, almost incestuous —his friends reacted with some laughter; they’d heard of her before but didn’t know her—. Anyway, I have to go talk to Emily, see you in a bit.

—Yes, sir… and he dodges work again… —Rossi commented.

—How’s that crossword coming along, Rossi? —Spencer couldn’t resist adding with a grin.

· P O V E L I ·

The hustle and bustle of the UAC headquarters was more overwhelming than I had anticipated. I accepted Luke's offer, but now that I was here, surrounded by strangers in an environment that seemed so alien to my world, I was starting to have doubts. "What kind of mess have I gotten myself into?"

—Eli, come here! —He greeted me with his usual carefree smile, the one he wears so well and that always made me feel a bit more at ease, but that also had the power to get me into trouble from which I didn’t know how to get out, because the truth is I’ve never been good at saying no and Luke tends to be very persuasive, he’s always been like that since we were kids. "Okay, Eli, you can do this. Just hold on a bit, meet the people, and then go back to your safe zone."

—Guys, this is Eli —Luke said, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I nodded, trying to appear calm and confident. "Okay, breathe, smile, and greet. Everything will be fine..."

—Hi, it’s a pleasure. —I tried to smile warmly, but meeting new people isn’t exactly my strength. So I’m not quite sure what my face looked like at that moment... I’m not too fond of having my personal space invaded and suddenly find a blonde girl 10 cm away from me... I almost died...

—Hi! I’m Garcia, Penelope. Oh my God, are you really friends with Luke? Do you put up with him? —I liked that she had a lot of decorations in her hair and wore so many colors. It was like she illuminated the room.

—Well... actually no, not much.

I tried to joke, but I think I was more serious than I intended, although she laughed. "Damn Luke, I shouldn’t have let him talk me into this. I think I’m having a panic attack right now, there are too many new people here..."

—Haha... so funny, Eli... I think what Eli means, Garcia, is that I put up with her. Let me introduce you to the others. Rossi, JJ, Matt, and... Where’s Reid?

—He said he’d be late today, he’ll be here in a bit —JJ, the long-haired blonde with clear eyes, added—. Let’s start without him.

"Great... come on Eli, take it step by step... Be cordial, do your job, smile, kill Luke, and go home. Not necessarily in that order."

Luke took me around, introducing me to the rest of the team. I tried to keep my composure, but my mind was a mess. "I’m smiling, right? Touch your face subtly and check... Okay, no, damn it, smile, your serious face is scary. Okay, good, now yes. Be beautiful, be a damn Disney princess."

Finally, Luke led me to his desk, and I sat down, grateful for a moment of rest. The atmosphere was pleasant, yes, but also overwhelming in a way I hadn’t anticipated. I need a lot of preparation, and new environments overwhelm me too much. Just at that moment, I heard Luke’s soft voice breaking the silence.

—Don’t worry, Eli, you’ll do well here. Besides, you haven’t met Reid yet. I’m sure you’ll like him —he said with a reassuring smile.

—Yeah... It’s not that... Too many people all of a sudden... All unknown... —I replied with a somewhat forced smile, though I was starting to feel a bit more comfortable. Hopefully, I could handle the situation without seeming like a complete rookie.

—Come on Eli... You can handle this and more. I trust you, so trust yourself too. I love you, okay? —I smiled at him, trying, in part, to feel better about myself.

· P O V S P E N C E R ·

I arrived later than usual, and when I walked into the office, the first thing I noticed was the new presence in the room. Luke was talking to a woman who, by her posture and the way she looked around, seemed a bit out of place, but still maintained a smile on her face, a smile that looked forced.

As I approached, I could see that she was making a visible effort to fit in. Luke spotted me immediately.

—Reid! —he called out, pointing to the new arrival—. Come here, let me introduce you, our new external consultant. My friend Elisabeth Jackson.

Elisabeth looked at me, and for a second, our gazes met. I don’t know what happened in that moment that threw me off completely. She smiled shyly, and something in her expression made me smile too.

—Hi, Elisabeth. It’s a pleasure to meet you —I said, trying to sound as friendly as possible. Her dark, intense eyes sparkled with an intelligence that seemed to want to analyze every little detail. But also a hint of nervousness that made me smile, recognizing in her someone who, like me, might prefer to be in a quiet library rather than in the midst of a group of talking people.

—Hi, Reid. —She said with a friendly tone, though I perceived a slight tension in her voice. —Eli is fine... —she hesitated.

—Okay, Eli... yeah, sorry... —I don’t know why I got nervous, suddenly felt like an idiot for apologizing.

We stood there for a moment, exchanging tense but cordial smiles, until Luke broke the silence to continue with the introductions, and we went back to our daily routine. However, I couldn’t help but glance at Eli a couple more times during the morning, curious, not knowing why she intrigued me so much.

· P O V E L I ·

Spencer Reid's arrival jolted me out of my reverie. The prodigy in his field, well, in many fields, I knew who he was, and of course, I was familiar with his work, but I didn’t recall his eyes, and that they would impact me more than his publications. "Girl, what are you thinking...?"

Yes, I knew him from college, just from a couple of classes; we crossed paths occasionally, though he doesn’t seem to remember who I am, to be honest. Understandable, on the other hand.

We sat together during the meeting, and although I spent most of the time in silence, feeling like an outsider in a new environment, Reid made the atmosphere a bit more bearable. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, his words carried a weight that made them seem more significant.

He looked at me with his brown, curious eyes, as if he were trying to decipher who I was. *He did this repeatedly throughout the day and I tried not to seem too nervous; I didn’t want them to think I wasn’t up to the task. "He’s uncomfortably kind, analytical, looking for something... and my abilities drop to -1000 when someone is watching me, damn it..."

The day went on, and despite my initial anxiety, I gradually started to feel more comfortable. Garcia was a whirlwind of positive energy, and although she intimidated me at first, I soon found that her enthusiasm was contagious. Spencer, on the other hand, was a calm and constant presence, someone I knew I could share deep conversations with without feeling judged.

The first day was going quite well. "I need a break..." I went to the common room and sat down to eat something, not before getting distracted by making little paper balls with a napkin and scribbling in my small red notebook. Spencer walked in just as I was stacking several objects on top of each other, trying to see if I could balance them. Me and my brilliant mind.

—Sometimes, a break is just what you need to think clearly. —He said as he pulled a sandwich from his bag, looking at Eli with amused curiosity and sitting down across from her.

—Eli jumped and knocked everything over, not without letting out a small scream first. —Oh, crap... —She turned beet red as she looked up and began to pick everything up.

—Spencer chuckled quietly. —What are you doing...?

—I... uh... n-nothing... It’s just how I am. —She opened her eyes wide. "What are you saying?! How are you like this?! Are you dumb or what?"

—He couldn’t hold back and let out a small laugh. *—*He seemed entertained, certainly... an improvised 3D puzzle.

—Well... yeah... —He cleared his throat, biting his lip, fiddling with the napkin. —I like puzzles.

—Yeah, I can tell. —The brunette gave a smile, leaning a little toward her, almost instinctively. —I guess this job, like psychology, has something to do with puzzles.

—Eli smiled softly, feeling more at ease and forgetting the previous incident, then hesitated before continuing. —I’ve always been interested in human behavior, patterns... Since I was little, I’d observe how people acted. In fact, when I was in college... —She paused for a few seconds, hesitating. —I had a class in criminology with you. You were... well, like you are now: brilliant.

—Really? —He asked, furrowing his brow slightly as he tried to remember, looking up. —What was the class?

—Advanced Psychology. —She murmured uncertainly. —You were always at the front.

—Advanced Psychology... —he repeated, then his expression changed as if something clicked in his memory. —Row four, seat six... was that you? You always had a notebook... yes, like that one, red, and you sat near the window.

—Oh! —She exclaimed, surprised and a bit flushed. —Yes, that was me... I can’t believe you remember so well. "Don’t get too excited, friend, he has a super brain, it’s not because of you."

—I have eidetic memory, but... —he smiled slightly, somewhat embarrassed. —It’s not always so clear with people. What seems odd to me is that you noticed me, I mean, hmm... well, you know... that you specifically remember me... —Spencer trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

"I need to scream and process everything he’s telling me. Are there any hidden messages here? Can someone translate all this for me?!" —Uh... Well, it’s that I’ve always played at that, really, I like observing and learning. I memorize what people do, how they are, how they might be... So I remember weird things at absurd moments, I suppose —she admitted with a soft laugh, now feeling more at ease. —You always seemed so focused, so... in your own world.

—It’s funny... —he said, looking directly into her eyes, with a sincere smile. —I always thought I was completely alone in that world, but maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

—I’m glad to know I wasn’t so invisible after all. —She said, holding back a sigh.

—Definitely not. —He said softly, smiling —And now, I’m really happy that we’re here, sharing something more than just a class.

—And I... —she replied, feeling the conversation flow naturally, though she felt like running through the halls screaming and completely red. She wasn’t sure if she had a kind, panicked, or clownish expression. "Oh God, I’m losing it. What’s happening? He’s adorable and I want to die!!"

The case would continue its course; Luke provided me with constant support, he knows my difficulties, and for me, the most important thing at that moment was to adapt, to find my place among them. With a bit of luck, I might feel settled in this new environment. "Come on, Eli. Just one step at a time." · Requests via DM ·

----

Well, the first chapter. I had an introduction, but I decided to combine it with the first chapter since it felt too short. I hope you like it; I'll try to update soon. I'm really enjoying writing the conversations, to be honest. There’s still quite a bit to go, I don’t know how many chapters there will be, but my idea is for this to be very FLUFFY, you know, kisses, intimacy, cuddles... we'll get there. If you have any comments, contributions, or questions... you know where to find me. That will come soon, I’ll speed up to get to the important stuff, I promise.

Kisses!

[ncisfranchise-source]

The prequel bug has finally bitten the NCIS franchise—and it might be the best thing the series has done in years. NCIS: Origins is an upcoming prequel series in the popular crime drama universe, looking back at the early career of Special Agent Gibbs (Mark Harmon) in his early days as a member of the NIS, the precursor organization to NCIS. While prequels can often be divisive among fans, the decision to look back at Gibbs’ younger days has incredible potential for revitalizing the entire franchise.

Set in 1991, NCIS: Origins explores the early career of Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a new agent at the NCIS Camp Pendleton office. The series delves into Gibbs' formative years under the mentorship of Special Agent Mike Franks. The prequel provides insights into Gibbs' background following the tragic loss of his wife and daughter.Release DateOctober 14, 2024CastMark Harmon , Austin Stowell , Robert Taylor , Patrick Fischler , Kyle Schmid , Diany Rodriguez , Tyla Abercrumbie , Mariel MolinoMain GenreCrimeSeasons1

'NCIS: Origins' Is a Prequel to the Popular Crime Series

NCIS: Origins takes place in 1991, following a young Leroy Jethro Gibbs (Austin Stowell) in his early career as a special agent for the Naval Investigative Service (NIS), the precursor to the Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS) that audiences are far more familiar with. The series sees Gibbs working with Special Agent Mike Franks (Kyle Schmid) based in Camp Pendleton, exploring their student-mentor relationship decades before their interactions on NCIS, and years before Gibbs moves to the DMV. NCIS: Origins takes place shortly after the tragic death of Gibbs' wife and child, one of the most intense and transformational experiences in the character's life. Still dealing with the raw grief and trauma from the deaths, Stowell's portrayal of the beloved character will be seen through a more emotional and vulnerable perspective — a stark, but welcome, contrast from the more stoic and stalwart version of Gibbs that audiences are familiar with.

With such an early setting in the expansive NCIS universe, it's interesting to note that NCIS: Origins even takes place before JAG, the original series that started the entire NCIS franchise. NCIS had its backdoor pilot on JAG, first introducing the world to fan favorites like Gibbs, Abby (Pauley Perette), and Ducky (David McCallum). While it’s unlikely that Rabb (David James Elliot) and Mac (Catherine Bell) will make appearances in the new show, the upcoming series has plenty of opportunities to pay homage to all the series that came before it. However, just as with any NCIS spin-off, the new cast of characters set to be introduced will be sure to bring their own distinct personalities and traits that make them just as memorable as any other team in the shared TV universe.

'NCIS: Origins' '90s Setting Keeps the Franchise Fresh

Not only does the setting of NCIS: Origins provide a fresh perspective on a familiar character, it will also entirely shake up the investigative process for the crime show. Though NCIS doesn't necessarily push the envelope of science fiction with its approach to technology, it's nonetheless kept up with the modernization and digitization of the world around it. Throughout its many years on air, the technology used by their special agents has remained cutting edge, featuring pinpoint facial recognition and otherwordly computational software. While it's not the central focus of the show, modern-day technology serves as an integral factor in how the NCIS team solves their mysteries, with characters like Abby Sciuto using the pinnacle of forensic analysis in nearly every episode.

However, the lack of technology in the 90s presents an entirely different landscape for the younger Jethro Gibbs. Without the same tools available, NCIS: Origins' setting presents a unique set of challenges and intriguing plot points that separate it from other series in the franchise. The solution to its mysteries has to be solved analog rather than digital, forcing the writers to innovate in ways that the franchise hasn't seen in years. While the '90s may not seem that distant in the past, the fledgling NCIS team will still have to solve their crimes in drastically different ways from the modern series. Even with access to military equipment (which tends to be the most advanced of its time), the writing team has plenty of new angles through which to explore their naval investigations.

Not only will this restriction create more intriguing plotlines, but it will also serve to frame Gibbs in the context of his entire career. By the time NCIS starts, Gibbs is a renowned and respected agent, with years of experience that make him a capable, reliable leader. However, the earlier setting of NCIS: Origins means that a novice Gibbs must make a name for himself in a field with limited resources and experience, making for a far grittier and more hands-on approach to crime solving than in recent seasons of the series.

Mark Harmon Is an Executive Producer of 'NCIS: Origins'

While it can be daunting to explore the beginnings of NCIS after decades of successful television, NCIS: Origins has done its job of sating audience hesitation. Though he likely won't be returning to NCIS anytime soon(a departure that the series is still feeling the effects of), Mark Harmon is one of the executive producers at the helm of the show, giving the seasoned actor considerable input on the portrayal of the younger Gibbs. And though he's handed off the baton to Stowell, Harmon still gets a chance to reprise his role as the series' narrator. His involvement all but guarantees that the iconic character’s spirit remains intact; an especially important consideration considering Gibbs is arguably the most important character in the entire NCIS franchise, not just his own individual series. While audiences may miss Gibbs on NCIS, loyal fans of the franchise await in eager anticipation for the character's return in NCIS: Origins, set to premiere on October 14 on CBS.

[make-your-own-evil]

may I request the different riddlers with a s/o who's a video game developer?

Also unesscary fun fact that I thought was cute and wanted to share:

A group of bunnies is scientifically called a fluffle

no, i think that fact was very necessary, thank you science side of tumblr

also im assuming you want some headcanons :) p.s. you didnt specify which riddlers you wanted so i just chose four <3 i hope thats okay!

note: feel free to reblog! just please give credit where credit is due :)

Riddlers w/ a GameDeveloper!S/O

BTAS!Riddler:

youre a game dev?! he is too!

....or rather he was.

ideally hes the best riddler to be with if youre a game developer. equal parts knowledgeable, helpful and caring

at first, he may see you as perhaps a rival, but if youre together, hes all for helping you out with whatever you need!

he unfortunately never got to see his own game "the riddle of the minotaur" come to fruition, so he may want to be more involved than what you would like

that game belongs to the both of you now, sorry

he adores that you have the same passions as him. but unlike his own past, he will see to it that NOTHING stops you from developing your game

just say the word and he will have your game downloaded onto every computer in all of gotham, the big simp 💕

Arkham!Riddler:

what would you like to know?

this man was the head of the GCPD's cyber crime unit, im sure he would be able to answer ANY question you could possibly have

these days he comes off as a guy who couldnt be bothered to help you create a childish game... buy hey, he loves you and isnt that what he technically does all day anyways? you just have to add in the possibility of actually dying to his games

he ends up helping you in his free time ❤

how could he resist? his darling needs his help coding and coding is his second language!

he acts very "put out" with you at first. throwing in the occasional insult because thats just how he talks when hes trying to explain something to someone

he is proud though! never will you ever hear him say it but he truly is. maybe you and he could incorporate some of his malware for the good people of gotham...

Dano!Riddler:

helping you with your game is his second job now! even if hes not getting paid

its no secret that this riddler would be a giant simp, so anything you ask of him, he will deliver 😍

in between his job as a forensics accountant and also being the riddler, he will always find time to check in on your progress. do you need help? do you need him to check your code? do you want something to drink? okay! hell just be over your shoulder if you need anything 😊

he will patiently explain to you how to do something the best he can. computers are really just a second nature to him, so having to explain it isnt exactly a familiar thing to him. bear with him!

he will be the first one to play your game!

no matter how easy your game is to him, he sees it as his obligation to support you in any way he can. whether your game is for a phone, pc or whatever, hes keeping it on his device forever

he would give you lots of praise and he also makes sure you know how amazing he thinks you are

Capullo!Riddler:

this asshole may not care at first that youre working on a game... that is until he realizes you could join forces to bring gotham to its knees

sure! he loves you! but this eddie is a narcissist and a control freak (more than the other riddlers)

he is right there with you in developing your game

he insists that you make him your partner in all of this. he also insists that he create the basic premise of the challenges your game has.

your game is required to be intellectually challenging! its a must! no S/O of his will create something that caters to the simple-minded!

and maybe you could also let him install a few viruses and malware?

he doesnt mean to sabotage your game! hes just thinking of your common goals. why not create a game that also eradicates those who are unworthy to live in your city?

he calls the game "our baby" 😊