#forensic science question and answer

[forensicfield]

Forensic Science QnA

Continue reading Forensic Science QnA

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

new hs history teacher(/basketball coach ofc) steve who is being shown around the school by gym teacher chrissy.

she takes him around the building to show him where the teacher's lounge is, the cafeteria, what bathrooms to avoid at all costs, and to where her office is if he ever needs anything.

"If I'm not here, I'm probably in Robbie's class over in the language department."

"Robbie?"

"Robin, my partner. She officially teaches ASL, but she likes to join in on the others' lessons whenever she has downtime."

Finally, once they've covered the whole length of the school, she brings him to his room. "So this is you, and right next door is Eddie, our Criminalistics teacher." gesturing to the still-dark window of the door directly across from his in the alcove. 

There's polaroids covering nearly every inch of the outside of the door, pictures of what he can only assume are students with the same dark-haired man.

"Criminalistics?"

"It's a science elective," she explains, "It focuses on the basics of forensic science!"

"Wow that’s…really?"

She nods enthusiastically, "It’s super interesting,” she nods, moving to unlock the empty what-will-be history classroom. “Eddie’s here on even days, and in the music room on odd days for the guitar elective classes."

"Anything I should know about my wall neighbor?" he asks as she pushes the door open.

It looks like she's going to say no, but something flickers across her face and she winces minutely.

"Oh god, what is it?"

She looks at him sheepishly, "How do you feel about metal music?"

--

Since his tour in mid June, Steve's completely overhauled his classroom. 

The only room available to him was the one down here in the science hall, but he made do, plastering removable whiteboard contact paper to the tops of the lab tables and a little reminder at each spot for the students about his less-than-stellar hearing, to make sure they speak up when answering a question from the back of the room.

And ever since he got his room, he'd been waiting for the day he finally meets his neighbor.

He met Chrissy's Robbie the same day he had the tour, and they clicked instantly (No seriously, how did he ever function before Robin?). Chrissy had made the comment about them being platonic soulmates one night in August when they'd gone out for one too many drinks, and it's stuck ever since.

Speaking of: "What are you still doing here, dingus? It's almost five."

"Yeah, I know, I know," he says, waving her off.

Robin comes in from the hall and plops herself down on one of the table tops instead of helping him hang a map behind his desk. "You're still adding stuff to your walls?"

"Well, I haven't been here for a couple years already, Bobs," he grits out as he stretches up on his toes to hang the far corner of his map. Finally, the eyelet hooks over the many-times-painted-over hook embedded in the concrete wall. "So yes."

"Well you can finish up tomorrow, we," she emphasizes the word by dramatically waving the same sign with her hand between them, "Have a burger date to get to." 

--

The following day, the day before the school year officially starts, Steve arrives early to his classroom, only to find his neighbor's classroom lit up as well.

The be-polaroided door is propped open all the way, the sound of heavy drums and guitar streaming out the door along with the faint smell of moth balls and a spicy incense.

His own room forgotten, Steve steps through Mr. Munson's doorway.

Eddie is standing behind his desk at the front of the room, but hunched over it scribbling onto something.

When Steve's shoe squeaks against the tile floor, Eddie says "Hey, what do you think, identifying skeletal remains, or blood spatter first?" without looking up at him.

"Skeletons, of course." Eddie's head snaps up to look at him. His huge dark eyes are much more striking in person than in a photo. "Much more interesting, yeah?"

Eddie blinks at him. "You're not Chrissy."

"You're correct."

Eddie blinks again, "Who're you?"

"Oh, sorry, hi. I'm Steve. I'm your new neighbor." he gives the other man an awkward wave when he still doesn't move. "Sorry, should I--" he says, gesturing over his shoulder with a thumb.

"No!" Eddie interrupts, standing straight and hurrying out from around his desk. 

He extends a hand and jogs lightly up to Steve. His pen is still laced into his fingers, the end of it chewed flat. "Oh shit, sorry, sorry," he tucks the pen behind his ear, "I'm Eddie. Munson."

"I know," Steve smirks, taking Eddie's hand. "I've been waiting to meet you."

"Oh have you?" he smirks.

"Yeah, Chrissy told me you're her best friend and I wanted your advice on maybe asking her out."

Eddie's face hardens immediately, the warm milk chocolate of his eyes curing into a solid dark, the easy smirk morphing into a cringe as he looks Steve up and down.

He opens his mouth to say something particularly scathing, Steve's sure, but he cuts him off before he can. "I'm kidding, man, I know she's with Robin."

His expression softens just a bit.

"Plus, she's not really my type anyway, even if I were hers."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm more into brunettes." Steve winks, finally releasing Eddie's hand. "I still have a bit more to get done, but I'll check in with you later?"

"Oh--yeah, for sure, I'll be here." Eddie stammers out, his cheeks tinged pink.

Steve fist pumps in his head as he heads to his door, You still got it, Harrington.

[captain-mj]

Bro you cannot just drop prep/jock soap and goth ghost and dip. We need you to give us your brain worms so we can analyze it like a science project

When you have time of course

I will put my worms in a petri dish for you

Soap was an artist! He liked sketching and painting and the act of making art. But he didn't like art essays. The explaining over and over again each detail. Breaking down everything until it felt like a bunch of paint strokes instead of art.

But part of an art degree is a ton of art essays. So Soap went to the museum to write what he needed. He preferred museums to finding art online. A big part of art for him was texture. His preference would've been to touch the art, to feel the paint underneath his fingers. But the assignment specified art from the Baroque period and therefore they had to be older and no museum was going to allow his grubby hands to touch the art.

Soap glanced down one of halls to see if there was anything interesting there when he faltered.

Oh lord.

The man was big. His shoulders. His height. The thighs he had that looked like tree trunks. It was all covered in tight black fabric and silver chains. A work of bloody art himself.

Soap had to hold himself back from wolf whistling.

Once he was done objectifying admiring the man's body, he looked higher up. There was a mask covering the bottom of his face, the only thing visible being his eyes which had heavy eyeliner on them. He could still see the locs of bleached blond hair that surrounded him like a halo.

Soap wanted to paint him.

"You gonna stare all day?" Someone snarked at him and he jumped, glancing at a slightly smaller blond man. He looked at him like he was gross and for a brief moment, he worried he might be about to be hate crimed. The man looked a lot the other one actually now that he was looking closer. Dressed the same way too.

"Aye, what's your fucking problem with it?"

The man's face scrunched. "Ew." He walked away, leaving Soap rather confused but now a bit determined to talk to mystery man.

Pretending to be looking through the paintings, he got closer to him.

Dark brown eyes quickly glanced over at him before glancing back at the paintings.

"Hey. My name is Soap."

"Ghost."

Ooh, he's from Manchester and sticks with his aesthetic. Nice. He'd prefer a not British person, but as far as British people go, he could do worse than Manchester. He glanced at the painting Simon had been admiring.

The Raising of Lazarus by Rembrandt.

"It's a lovely painting." Soap put on his normal charm, acting suave and polite.

"Aye." Ghost gruffed and went quiet again, staring in simple contemplation. His arms were crossed, making already large arms flex.

Soap started to take notes for his assignment. Although he was definitely hoping to score well in more than one ways, he did need to take notes for his assignment.

Ghost glanced over at what he was writing quizzically and Soap answered the unasked question. "I'm doing a project."

"Fun." He huffed and looked back at the painting.

Soap looked down at his chest and licked his hips. "Yeah, it's a good one." He kept writing stuff. "You a college student?"

"Yeah."

"What do you study?"

"Forensics. I'm assuming you're art?"

"Chemistry with a minor in art!" Right as Soap went to mention how funny it was that they didn't share any classes, Ghost interrupted him.

"Wait. Johnny? Johnny MacTavish? We share several classes."

Soap brightened. "Do you dress like this all the time?" There was zero chance he did or Soap would already know his name, address and dick size.

"We have morning classes together. I don't dress up for morning classes." Ghost said decisively. He stretched and shook his head.

How did he manage to not notice the shoulders though at least? The man was huge. He was also several inches taller than Soap and therefore the majority of the class. Maybe if he sat in the back and left later than everyone?

Soap nodded. "Understandable. You look nice."

"Nice huh?" Ghost smiled at him. He could tell cause his eyes scrunched slightly.

"Yeah. Nice." Soap said softly, his chest doing something weird.

They stared at the painting a while before Ghost pulled away to start exploring the rest of the exhibit.

Soap finished up the notes he needed to write his paper and then started to walk with him. He tried to find his opening during all of this.

Ghost stopped at a very specific painting.

ARTEMESIA GENTILESCHI, JUDITH SLAYING HOLOFERNES, C. 1612–1613

The art was... stunning. The red, faded from time and wear, was still beautiful against the white of the blankets.

The women held him down and there was a movement to it that Soap wanted in his own work. His fingers trembled with the want to touch it. To feel the texture of the paint under his fingers. Ridges and bumps and smooth layers of the different strokes.

Ghost hummed. "I don't really get art. It's pretty but some people look at it and it... gives them something. An epiphany."

Soap hummed. "I find touching it helps."

Ghost looked at him, raking his eyes over him. "I see. Do you want to head out then?"

Soap frowned. "Why?"

"You're a piece of art and I'm looking for an epiphany."

[agustdiv1ne]

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°｡2:54 p.m. — kang taehyun

genre: kinda meet cute? idk they're lab partners (as a stem major i am projecting heavily), college au

wc: 998

kang taehyun has terrible luck with lab partners.

he figures it comes with the territory — labs can be stressful, and sometimes the procedures written by the chemistry department are, at best, redundant, and, at worst, practically unintelligible. past partners have royally screwed him over by messing up the experiment halfway through, then banking on him to fix everything with the little time that is remaining. despite his annoyance, taehyun is well aware that he is not perfect; he has messed up experiments before, too, and he can easily admit that. however, unlike some of his peers (see: choi beomgyu, forensic science major), he will always clean up his own mess without anyone else’s help.

after last week’s class that only covered lab safety procedures, the first actual experiment day in his organic chemistry lab brings with it a looming sense of dread. he’s sitting outside the lab and waiting for class to begin, praying that he is not paired up with beomgyu again, not after the fiasco last semester in which he was seconds away from blowing up the science building.

within a few minutes, the lab instructor props open the door, announcing that partner pairings could be found near the fume hoods. once he walks up to the paper, he sighs, crosses his fingers, and searches for his name. directly next to his, he finds a name that he doesn���t recognize. despite this, he mentally fist pumps; anyone is better than beomgyu at this point.

“looks like we’re partners,” he hears from next to him. the finger he was using to search for his name lifts from the paper, and he swivels his head over to find you, donned in similar attire of a white coat and safety goggles, a small smile spread across your lips. you extend your arm, introducing yourself more formally. “i’m looking forward to working with you.”

“same here.” he moves to shake your outstretched hand, though he’s not sure if he means it yet, unsure of how you operate in a lab. really, it all depends on how well you work together.

“what’s your major?” you ask in an attempt to strike up conversation while you grab all of the necessary flasks and beakers and other tools required for this experiment. synthesis of aspirin — should be simple enough.

“biochem, and i’m also pre-med,” he says, before he’s asking for your own. your answer colors him shocked: you’re the same major, and on the same pre-med track? then…

“how come i’ve never seen you before?” he questions as he sets up some of the apparatus. you simply shrug in response while you finish setting up the other half. it’s impressive how quickly, how accurately, you complete it. is his bad luck finally gone? are you the lab partner that he’s been wishing for?

“i tend to keep to myself. ‘m not a fan of most people.” you’re already starting the experiment, scanning over the procedures to ensure that you’re doing everything correctly. “is the steam bath ready? the salicylic acid is all dissolved.”

“yeah, give it here.” you carefully slide it over the benchtop and he places the flask in the bath. as you wait the proper amount of time, he can’t help but ask, “am i most people?”

“i’m not sure yet. we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” and you’re almost smirking, a teasing lilt in your voice. it should be annoying after getting a total of three hours of sleep, and yet it only serves to intrigue him. you say that you don’t like people, and yet you’re basically a master at conversation; you can tease and crack jokes but still keep track of everything that is going on in front of you. it’s impressive. so far, he really likes you — in the most platonic, professional way possible, of course. you just met, and you're only lab partners. nothing more, nothing less.

the two of you work in almost perfect tandem until the experiment is finally complete, all data collected and post-lab questions already answered for the report that’s due next week. relief floods his veins the moment the two of you exit the stuffy, humid lab, stripping yourselves of your coats and groaning at the sensation of the post-experiment grime that clings to the skin of your faces. you haphazardly shove the article of clothing into your backpack, unbothered by potential wrinkles. you give him a playful salute before you’re moving to leave.

“good work, kang,” you comment, grinning tiredly as you walk backwards. you spin to face away from him and call over your shoulder, “see you in lecture!”

“actually,” he starts. you spin on your heel, a curious quirk in your brow as you stare at him. “you wanna grab some food? i’m sure you’re starving, too.”

and you’re smiling wider, and his heart is beating faster and no, he’s absolutely, positively not forming a little crush on you. he just admires your competence, the rational part of his brain supplies. you’re lab partners, completely professional, newly acquainted lab partners that barely even know each other, though he finds himself strongly hoping that you’ll say yes.

your fingers loosely grip the straps of your backpack, eyes lighting up, as you respond. “yeah, i'd like that. wanna get chick-fil-a?”

“it’s like you read my mind,” he quips, celebrating internally. “i’ve been craving that all day.”

as he falls into step next to you — the two of you complaining about the professors that you share and promising to sit next to each other and study together from now on — taehyun begins to think that luck is finally on his side.

“soooo,” he draws out, one eyebrow raised in an inquisitive expression. you glance over at him through the corner of your eye, urging him to continue with an impatient wave of your hand. “am i most people now?”

chuckling, you jostle his arm with your elbow. “nah, i think i might be able to tolerate you.”

masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Over your head

It's been a while and most of this is personal to my life. Just needed to little Nick loving.

Warnings: None, just fluffy Nick.

WC: 736.

Enjoy x

You should have said no, but you couldn’t now, everything was in place and you knew it have to be like ripping a band aid off, but you were nervous. When Liv came to you and told you that SVU was going to be getting the funds to have an in-house forensic science lab and suggested that you go and get your degree so you could be the head of the lab, it took you nearly 3 days to decide. Life had not been kind recently and you were in your era of second guessing yourself with everything you had been through and what was still to come in your personal life. Your divorce was finally coming to the final stages of being settled and you had just got the kids in a routine as a single mom, and now you were nothing but crazy taking on a full-time degree study as well as working. It was lucky you lived with your mum and the kids went to the same school as Amanda's girls, so between her and Sonny, when you needed it, they said they had it all under control.

As you walked into the huge lecture hall, you found a seat as far up the back as possible and you sat down, sitting your bag on the seat next to you. You had a little giggle as your eyes scanned around the room at all these “Young kids” doing a course as heavy as this, thinking about everything you had seen after 12 years of SVU.

You were looking down at your phone to a message Amanda had messaged you about her plans with all the kids that afternoon after school when you heard a familiar voice and instantly all your worries melted away, your eyes slowly scanned up and surprisingly your eyes met and you blushed as he gave you quick wink and continued talking,

“Good morning, everyone, I’ am Nick Amaro your professor for the next 12 months. I’ am here to answer any questions you may have. All I ask is no phones during my class, unless an extreme emergency” Nick looked at you with a smirk and you giggled to yourself dropping you phone back into your bag.

If that is what you had to listen too for 1 hour every day for the next year, you would be glad to do it. Listening to Nick talking about all his lab skills and referring to his SVU days and cases he had worked on with you and how it led him to this path, made you feel warm and fuzzy. You hadn’t seen him since the night he told you he was moving to LA, your life was already a mess from the break up and he held you on floor as you sobbed at the fact that you were losing your best friend. You had kept in contact, he calling and facetiming the kids as often as he could but you never would have thought in a million years that he would be back in New York teaching.

You watched as all the other students filed out and then you stood up walking out of the aisle you  were sitting on and you walked down the stairs. Just as you were almost at the bottom, Nick walked from around his desk and made his way towards the stairs, stopping at the bottom step not stepping up. You stopped on the bottom step, looking down at Nick, not taking them off his as you sat your bag down on the chair next to you. It was like a magnet pulled you together, your arms going around his neck and his around you middle,

“I’ve missed you sweetheart” Nick kissed the cheek he could reach.

You lent back, your arms going from around his neck and your hands went straight to his beaded cheeks, his moving to your hips, the feel of his facial hair smooth on your hands,

“You have no idea how much I have missed you. How long are you back for?”

“At the moment 3 years” he squeezed your hips “But I’ am hoping I won’t need to leave again”

“Have something important to stay for Professor?” You grinned.

“Yes actually” he paused for a moment looking down at your lips and then looking back up at your eyes “I ‘am looking at her”

Tags: @beccabarba @ben-c-group-therapy @alwaysachorusgirl @jemmakates

[beautifulmars]

HiPOD: Muddy Ejecta Flow

This small 2 kilometer-wide crater was sitting around, minding its own business when a meteoroid struck the ground just to the west and created a new, larger crater almost 10 kilometers in diameter (not pictured).

The ejecta spraying out of the new crater landed back on the ground and then continued to flow away from the new crater, and the smaller crater was in the way of that muddy flow. You can see where much of the muddy material flowed around the crater’s uplifted rim and forms a squiggly ridge, but you can also see where the mud flow slid over the rim and ponded down in the bottom of the crater.

One question we don’t know the answer to is: “how wet was the muddy ejecta?” Ongoing observations like this and laboratory-based experiments are trying to find the answer to that question.

This image also illustrates a common theme in geology, namely, the law of superposition. Because the crater has been affected by ejecta from the larger crater to the west, the small crater had to be there first and then the second, larger crater and its ejecta had to form. This allows planetary geologists to decipher the relative ages of different landforms. Because a central goal of geology is to understand past events from present-day clues, geology is sometimes compared to forensic science.

ID: ESP_046843_1940 date: 24 July 2016 altitude: 275 km

NASA/JPL-Caltech/University of Arizona

[tarabyte3]

This semester, my highschool kid has taken a Fringe Science/Conspiracy Theory class, a Forensics class, and a lit class that's focused on Romanticism and Gothic lit. 15-year-old me is extraordinarily jealous. Like, it hurts to see someone living your dream, but mom me is THRILLED that it's her!

Except today on the way home from school, she told me she keeps impressing her teachers by answering questions and saying she knows what something is because, and I quote, "You're always talking about something so I've learned way too much about random stuff I don't care about, and now it's finally useful!"

You're welcome?!? 😂😭

[deadrobinthoughts]

Bat Kids & Their College Degrees.

Dick Grayson - Criminology and Law. - Dick has always been involved in crime fighting. A major in crime and law would easily fit in and deepen his understanding, which only aids in combatting criminal behavior.

+ definitely a performing arts major. he would love being able to explore and express himself through dance and theatre.

Jason Todd - Criminal Justice and Psychology. - during his time as the Red Hood would instill an understanding of crime from a pov that could easily be etched in a psychological perspective. This would be able to aid in his navigation of the darker corners of his vigilante methods. ( Ignore him when he says it's to get answers, with a smirk. )

+ literature and philosophy. it's never been a secret that jason loves to read and study things. he would also get to explore complex composition and moral questions.

Barbara Gordon - Library Sciences & Information Technology - Barbara's initial career in the librarian field would be a dead give away for library science. Her expertise lies within collecting, organizing and checking information, along with hacking, which would be helped by a strong IT background.

+ creative writing. i'm not sure why, i just feel like her level of knowledge and intellect would lead her to enjoy writing and creating new worlds.

Tim Drake - Computer Science & Detective Minor. - Tim is very much known for his computer and detective skills already, majors and minors in these areas would definitely pair with where his interests already align.

+ i feel like regardless of the universe, he's got something to do with computers. even if it's graphic design. i feel like he'd enjoy creating things, too. or, he could go the way of being an agent of some sort but i'm not sure, outside of everything, if he'd be okay knowing the things that agents do. because that's beyond even what the batfam sees.

Stephanie Brown - Forensic Science & Journalism. - considering the time she's spent uncovering the truth and mystery solving, it would be easy to stick her with forensic science. plus, her determination to bring justice to light could easily be an end with journalism.

+ sociology. she'd probably enjoy studying the structure of society and understanding issues better. ( i don't like steph, i'm sorry otl so this isn't great. )

Cassandra Cain - Martial Arts & Linguistics. - her background is already deeply rooted in martial arts, so a major focusing on that area would make sense and be a breeze for her. her communication barriers are what would lead her to want to learn to read, speak and write on an effective level.

+ going the same route as dick, i feel like she'd major somewhere in dance and performing. it would be something expressive.

Damian Wayne - International Relations & Strategics. - damian would be very interested in global affairs and strategic combat. his upbringing would aid in his international relations, while other studies would align with his intellect and training. ( let's not pass up the fact he would have a minor relation to animals, medicine or plants. )

+ fine arts ( still with a double major or minor with something involving animals or plants. ) but, damian does have talent with art and i think he would enjoy the silence and time to delve into that outlet.

Duke Thomas - Electrical Engineering & Urban Studies. - duke's abilities would make it easy to work with concepts of engineering. his focus on protecting and improving, during daylight, aligns well with urban studies.

+ environmental science and, hear me out, music theory. i think duke deserves the ability to explore his creative side, as well.

[littlemisspascal]

Rockford & Roan Pt. 4

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count:2.8k

Summary:  “Do you doubt our match, Miss Roan?” he asks, and it’s a shocking enough question you legitimately can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But if he is being serious…

Rating: T 

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, references of dead bodies + suicide, police, HTTYD reference, scars

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you so so much for all the kind support 💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Case

You take possession of one of Rockford’s spare notebooks, yellow and spiral bound, scribbling down details about the case he’s been asked by the police to help investigate.

7 suicides over the past 8 months 

Unsure why the brief lapse during the third month

Perhaps to throw police off potential trail?

Victims are all different ages, backgrounds, careers

Also found dead in different locations across Fox Leap—alleyways, parking lots, isolated spots

No witnesses

No suicide notes left behind 

Single commonality: all died by ingesting a cyanide pill

Suspects? None

Police aren’t convinced deaths are connected 

Rockford is certain they are

I don’t know what to think

The Invitation

Friday evening finds you job hunting across the internet from the comfort of the couch. It’s another one of the steps of Dr. Odair’s grand therapy plan to reintegrate you into society. Of course, what she failed to mention was that the potential career opportunities for ex-military empaths are few and far between. You lean back against the cushion, resisting the urge to grab your mug of tea and pour it onto your laptop. It’s not the computer’s fault there’s a prejudice against those with mind-gifts after all. 

The squeaks of Banjo’s stuffed toy pull your attention towards the dog rolling around on the floor, his beloved plush panda Bamboo held between his paws, teeth gnawing at its leg. Rockford lies stretched out on the white rug nearby, eyes closed, the picture perfect example of tranquility. He isn’t sleeping—you can tell by the tapping of his fingers against his stomach, a song only he knows—but it’s nice to pretend. For all that you’ve pestered him with questions about his job and for all that Rockford has patiently answered each one without even the tiniest thrum of irritation, his bizarre, seemingly nonexistent sleeping schedule is a topic you’ve yet to broach with him. 

Brown eyes snap open, startling you so badly it’s a miracle your laptop isn’t sent crashing to the floor. Before you can ask what’s wrong, Rockford’s on his feet and stalking off down the hallway in a blur. You blink, caught off guard, and exchange a look with an equally bewildered Banjo. Should you follow after him or…?

A knock on the front door makes the decision for you.

The prospect of a guest sends Banjo into a tizzy, ditching Bamboo without remorse, tail wagging so fast it’s a wonder it doesn’t fly off. You can’t exactly blame him. Other than a quick visit from the landlady to give you your own set of keys and introduce herself— Professor Rosasharn Claremont, an instructor of forensic sciences at the local university with prehensile hair she used to slap the back of Rockford’s head for not visiting her enough—nobody’s knocked on the door as long as you’ve lived here.

You’re not sure who’s brain function shorts out first when you open the door: yours or the unknown man wearing a police badge on his belt. He’s middle-aged, dirty blond hair, a scar twisting along in a distorted line from the left side of his mouth to his ear. A hideous mark, but at the same time intriguing in its uniqueness. You can’t help but think how if it was copied onto the right side, it’d almost look like some kind of villainous grin.

Banjo’s attempt of squeezing between your leg and the doorway to get a good sniff of the man is enough to jumpstart you back into motion. Nudging him away with your socked foot, you tell him to return to his bed, punctuating the command with a firm point of your finger. Only once he sullenly pads away, ears drooped as if you’ve just gutted Bamboo right in front of him with a butcher knife, do you turn back to face the policeman, who appears to have also gotten over his initial surprise.

“Can I help you, officer?”

“Inspector,” he corrects with an accent you can’t quite place, almost like a rumbling sort of growl, but despite the harsh sound his tone is polite as he introduces himself. “Inspector Dorrance with the Fox Leap Police Department. I’m here for Tim Rockford.”

His emotions are almost unnaturally steady, like he’s got the internal parts of a clock ticking away rather than temperamental hormones. You figure he must’ve gone through some sort of training course for mood management. Smart. A lawman with a high pressure job, anger issues, and a loaded gun is a disaster waiting to happen.

“Oh, is this about the case?” you ask with far more perkiness in your voice than you intend. 

“He told you about that, did he,” Inspector Dorrance says in the exact same instant that Rockford calls out from the depths of the apartment, “Get to the point why you’re here, Kez.”

Kez? You mouth to yourself before opening the door wider, inviting the inspector to step inside. He isn’t subtle as he looks around, gaze lingering noticeably on the few personal items of yours spread throughout the room, before he turns towards the hall.

“Another body’s been found. Abandoned warehouse near the wharf.”

“And?” Rockford asks, still out of view. 

Dorrance side-eyes you, clearly debating with himself the legalities of discussing an open case with a civilian present. A civilian he clearly knew nothing about as of two minutes ago. You offer up only silence in response, too curious for your own good to leave without him directly asking.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Your roommate emerges from his office, his trench coat gripped in one hand and mouth fixed in an unimpressed frown. He gestures between you and the inspector. “Kez, my current roommate and match, Roan. Roan, my ex-roommate and one of the only competent members of law enforcement in the city, Keziah. Can we get back to the victim now?”

Your eyes widen. Ex-roommate? How long have they known each other? There’s definitely a story there. 

“I’m sorry,” Dorrance begins, “did you just say she’s your match? When the hell were you going to tell me this happened?”

“Apparently not,” Rockford mutters. “I was going to tell you when it came up. And it just did.”

“You—” Dorrance cuts himself off with a sharp exhale through his nose.

It really is a credit to Dorrance’s mood management training his emotions don’t even so much as dip or catch fire. Instead, he shoots Rockford a look that plainly says, We’re going to be talking about this later, and then turns to face you once more.

“I wish we were meeting on better circumstances. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you since you’re his match that underneath this—” he gestures vaguely at Rockford which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

Dorrance carries on, unbothered, “—is a giant question mark nobody will ever find the answer to. But if I were to bet on anyone coming close, I’d put my money on you.”

“Thank you, I think,” you say, daring a quick glance at Rockford’s face, which you’re pleased to notice has softened the tiniest bit. “You’ll be the first one I tell if I do.”

For whatever reason, your answer has the inspector immediately smirking, left side of his face stretched tight due to the scar tissue.

“Kez, in addition to being a recurring pain in my side,” Rockford explains, sensing your confusion, “is also a lie detector. Any hint of dishonesty and his gift’ll catch it. Makes him handy in the interrogation room.”

Gifts can be interesting like that sometimes, lining up perfectly with a specific job. A singer with the ability to alter their voice to any pitch, a fireman with an immunity to burns, a veterinarian who can speak to animals–you’ve seen them all. Human lie detector is a new one though, you’ll admit.

Dorrance shoves a hand into his pocket, fishing out his phone vibrating with an incoming text. He scans the message, smirk wiped off his face and replaced with grimness. 

“Right, back to the reason I came over,” he says briskly, tucking his cell away again. “You know how the victims never leave notes?”

“Yes.” Rockford’s listening attentively, eyes narrowed. “What of it?”

“This one did.”

Rockford’s expression doesn’t change, not even a twitch of his brow. His mind though, oh his mind’s the calm before the storm. Something’s beginning to stir awake underneath the surface. Tempted by the reveal, hungry for more details to dig its teeth into. 

For weeks you’ve wondered about the depths unknown to your empathy, about what lurks there. You’ve got a distinct, icy certainty crawling up your spine you’re soon to discover another side of your match previously unseen. 

“Will you come to the scene?” Dorrance asks hopefully.

“Of course. No point sitting at home when there’s an exciting development going on.” Rockford begins slipping his arms through the sleeves of his trench coat, adjusting the collar to his liking. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been down to the wharf.”

“Just try not to piss off anyone, will you? One dead body is enough to deal with as it is.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Rockford says with a wry grin. Then, turning to you, he arches an eyebrow, “Well, Roan, you got any plans this evening?”

You think of your laptop back on the couch, numerous job sites still left to be checked. 

“Uh, no,” you answer, shaking your head. “Not really.”

“Roan was in the military,” your roommate tells the inspector, but his eyes remain held on your face, a speculating glint in them that has you subconsciously straightening up. Almost as if you’re standing at attention. “You saw a lot of violent deaths, didn’t you?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Witnessed several dangerous situations?”

“Worst of the worst. Stuff of pure nightmares.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming heavier. There’s a crime scene needing to be examined, a case to be closed, and yet everything seems to have slowed down all at once. As if the very air itself has frozen solid. And you realize you’re holding your breath, waiting for something.

“Want to see some more?”

An invitation.

Dr. Odair’s been telling you now that you’ve matched and your mind-gift has become more manageable, it’s time to pick up some hobbies. To go out to more places for fun other than just the library and dog park. No doubt she was probably thinking of safe and relaxing options like chess or badminton or pottery classes at the rec center.

The problem though, is that safe and relaxing doesn’t spark a wildfire in your blood, bringing you back to the days where you had a clear purpose to fulfill and problems to deal with head-on. You want another adventure, and here’s one dangling right in front of you, just waiting for you to say—

“Hell yes,” you blurt out, and even without your mind-gift you can tell Rockford’s happy with your choice by the half curl of his mouth and crinkling around his eyes as he asks Dorrance for the address.

The Doubt

Rockford holds the cab door open for you, sliding in after you’ve settled against the plush seat with Banjo secure in your lap. The little mutt’s tail beats a rhythm against your jacket, excited about the trip even if he has no clue the final destination. You’re still not convinced bringing a dog of all creatures to an active crime scene investigation is the wisest move, but let the record show your roommate has a helluva weakness for Banjo’s puppy eyes. 

“Keziah’s team of imbeciles disguised as CSIs are wreaking havoc on the scene as we speak. I highly doubt there’s much more damage Banjo can cause,” Rockford had said with an amused look when you voiced your concern. “Besides, no man left behind. Isn’t that the military creed?”

And well, he wasn’t wrong about that. (Not to mention, you’ve got a pretty big weakness for Banjo’s sweet brown eyes too…)

The drive to the wharf is brief without too much annoying traffic. Outside, the sun’s dipped out of sight and darkness is enveloping the city, street lights blinking on. Inside, it’s quiet except for a country song playing lowly on the radio. The cabbie’s mood is easygoing if not a little bogged down by exhaustion whereas Banjo’s is a bouncy spring of enthusiasm, nose practically pressed against the window as his eyes struggle to keep up with all the sights rolling past. Still, as entertaining as the pup’s emotions are, your mind-gift continues circling back to the man sitting next you like a homing pigeon.

Nothing’s changed within his mindscape during the journey. The calm, almost eerie stillness from before is still in effect. You can tell he’s thinking about something—the man’s never not thinking—but whatever it is clouding his gaze, furrowing his brow, is not disturbing enough to imprint upon your empathy. It’s moments like this one where you wish you were a mind reader, if only for a few seconds. 

“We’re here,” Rockford announces, paying the cabbie his fare.

Scrambling out of the vehicle, you set Banjo down on the ground. While he performs a full-bodied shake, you take in the cluster of police cars and flashing lights and abundance of barricade tape surrounding a warehouse, derelict and foreboding, along the waterfront. The press have also caught wind of the scene, prowling around with their microphones and cameras like vultures. You swallow, subconsciously twisting the leash around your fingers.

You’d wanted an adventure and yet…this is all so very, very different from a battlefield. It’s a whole other form of organized chaos, and it’s terrifying not having the slightest clue how to safely navigate it. 

Your initial fears were misplaced. It won’t be Banjo making a mess. It will be you.

Rockford starts forward, clearly eager to get to work, only to halt after five steps when you fail to follow. He turns around to look you over from head to toe, carefully nudging at your mind-gift as he does so, confusion only deepening when he fails to understand your lack of movement. “Is something the matter?”

You bite your lip, glancing nervously once more between the hive of activity and his steady brown eyes. “I don’t think I belong here.”

Rockford stares at you, the glow of the street light illuminating one side of his face. 

“Do you doubt our match, Miss Roan?” he asks, and it’s a shocking enough question you legitimately can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But if he is being serious…

Your head’s already shaking aggressively before a response forms. “N-no, absolutely not!” you say hastily, frantic to assure him of the truth. You close the gap of distance, hoping somehow being closer will remedy the spiraling situation, but when that doesn’t smoothen out the wrinkles on his forehead your empathy reacts by hurling a tangled ball of loyalty-friendship-safety-contentment straight at him. The most desperate of Hail Mary plays.

Rockford sucks in a breath. You watch his expression spasm, knocked off-kilter, before it settles into something as exasperated as it is fond. This time, the nudge against your mind-gift is firmer, the only warning you get before the ball you’d thrown returns and smacks you square in the chest. 

“Oh,” is your immediate reaction, breathless from the intensity.

What was it he had said before? You and him are two halves of the same whole.

And then there’s a warm hand on top of your head, gentle, affectionate, and you’re breathless for an entirely different reason. You blink up at Rockford, heart thudding in your chest.

“That’s right. You,” he says slowly, purposefully, “belong anywhere I am. Banjo, too.”

Banjo woofs, baring his teeth in a snaggletoothed grin, and you’d chuckle at that if you had any air left in your lungs. Not for the first time, you cannot help but marvel at your match’s realness. There’s no such thing as perfection, but you think he comes pretty damn close. 

“Now you’ve done it,” you aim for humor, but you can’t shake the wobble from your voice. “You'll never know a moment’s peace again.”

“Ah, peace is overrated,” Rockford declares with an unconcerned shrug, hand returning to the pocket of his trench coat. “So, we’re in agreement then. We’re stuck with each other.”

“Mhmm, no take backsies.”

You needed this moment, this reassurance. The doubts you hadn’t even known you carried have been firmly put to rest, vanquished by the proof he values the soulbond tying your lives together just as much as you do. 

But despite the importance of this conversation you can’t keep ignoring the flashing lights up ahead forever. Your eyes slide past Rockford, spotting Inspector Dorrance in his grey suit amongst the sea of navy uniformed officers gesturing with his arms.

“Ultimately, it’s your choice where you go,” Rockford says, and it’s clear he’s made up his own mind by the way he turns away from you, resuming his walk towards the scene. 

You watch the dramatic flaring of the bottom of his coat with each step, watch the tapping of his fingers against his left thigh, watch as the man tosses one last remark over his shoulder:

“Keep up, Roan. We both know you’re coming with me.”

By the time he reaches the barricade tape, you and Banjo are right by his side. Exactly where you both belong.

[specialagentlokitty]

Carol Danvers x reader - big fan

I was wondering if you can please do Carol Danvers X reader, where the reader is Kamala's older sibling, and is also a massive fan of Carol? - Anon💜

A/N: possible spoilers from The Marvels

Walking your sisters room, you lightly hummed to yourself as you walked over to her desk, looking through the draws.

“Jeez Kamala stop taking my stuff…” you grumbled.

You grabbed some pens and turned around.

The pens fell from your hand, and you slowly reached up to remove one of your AirPods.

“Uh… hi…” you whispered.

The hero in front of you friend around, setting what she was holding back down and she smiled a little bit.

“Hey.”

“You… captain Marvel? Why.. what..?”

“I don’t know, that was definitely already broken.”

You smiled a little and you held up a hand to her.

“Can you sign something?!”

“I’m a little busy right now but after sure!”

“Oh yeah no that’s fine. I’ll show you the door.”

You couldn’t help but constantly glance at her as you led her quietly down the stairs.

You didn’t want your family knowing that there was a superhero in the house, especially with everything going on with your sister.

But getting out undetected didn’t work in your favour.

You did what you could to help protect your parents, but fighting strange aliens who looked oddly human wasn’t exactly your strong point.

Sure, you knew some basic self defence but that was in.

“Kamala get your friend back!” You yelled.

“Who?!”

“Captain Marvel! Why didn’t you tell me you guys were friends!?”

Kamala whipped around to face you, and you threw the photo you were holding behind her.

“Captain marvel was here?!”

“You should know?!”

Suddenly she was gone and in her place was Captain Marvel again, and you screamed, throwing something at her.

Hands flying to your mouth you tried your best not to laugh.

“I’m so sorry…”

You watched as she elbowed the guy behind her, then she leant down, picking up the notebook and flicked through it.

“Chemistry?”

“I’m studying to be a forensic scientist.”

She smiled, nodding her head as she carefully set your notebook back down.

“Don’t damage it then.”

You smiled back and screamed when something came flying at you and you ducked, hiding behind a chair with your mom.

She held you and you held her back just as tightly.

Everything went quiet, and you peaked your head around the chair and stood up.

“So, is your real name Captain Marvel?”

“You know it isn’t.”

You grinned a little.

“I know, I just wanted to see what I had to call you. Since, you know you busted up my parents house.”

Carol laughed a little bit.

“You can call me Carol and I uh.. I’m sorry about the house.”

“Uh huh, well unfortunately for you, you now gotta help tidy up. Superhero or not.”

Carol raised her hands a little bit and she began to help you pick up things that were on the floor.

“So, forensic science?” She asked.

“Oh yeah, I’ve always been fascinated by it. I’m only back for a short break from university.”

Carol nodded a little bit and you pushed your brother out of the way, grinning a bit at him so you could get a little bit closer to the superhero.

You didn’t know how long you were going to be able to talk to her for and how long she’d be there.

You wanted to talk to her for as long as possible, you absolutely adored her, and now you had met her, you were going to make sure you asked her everything you always wanted.

Carol listened as you rambled out questions, truth be told she probably should’ve just left right away, but she did kind of enjoy answering them.

Because you weren’t just interested in about her as a superhero, you showed interest in her as a person and that was a new thing for her and she loved it

[killerandhealerqueen]

About Me

I've gotten a lot of new followers recent (hi hello, welcome!) so I just thought I'd do a brief little about me

So, I'm Sass. I'm known around here as the Queen of Killer and Healer (hence the username) because I am totally normal (lying) about this drama. I've also written over 150+ fics for the fandom so that's also where the name came from. I am also currently doing one of the biggest writing projects ever, which is my Killer and Healer rewrite. It's my baby and I hope y'all check it out (we're unfortunately not even close to being done, but I'm trying).

I do like to liveblog my dramas, so if you're into that, you'll have a good time. No dramas have really captured my interest at the moment, so liveblogs won't be happening for a while but hopefully something interests me so that I can get back into liveblogging cuz I do miss it.

I'm also known as your friendly neighborhood forensic science expert, as I have a bachelors in forensic biology, a masters in forensic investigative science (plus two graduate certificates in forensic investigative science and forensic psychology), and I also work as a crime scene technician. So, if you ever have any questions about crime scenes or death scenes (crime scenes i don't really have a lot of experience in, just textbook knowledge, but death scenes i do) or scenes in detective dramas/tv shows, feel free to drop by and ask me about them! I'll do the best I can to answer

I'm also currently in my F1 era (more like me fighting for Logan Sargeant's life because his fucking team principle is throwing him under the god damn fucking bus and I want to tear his throat out with my teeth. So help me god, James Vowels, don't ever step in my direction or they'll never find your body) so fics for other fandoms (mainly Killer and Healer) are on hold. But I do have my fave drivers: Max, Logan, Charles, Oscar, Carlos, and Checo. (I like the others too, but these are my faves). I have currently written one F1 fic so far, Enough (Miami), so please check it out! (If you don't like rpf, then don't, no pressure, it's not everyone's cup of tea).

Feel free to send me asks, I don't bite, I promise. Nice to meet y'all and I'm very happy y'all are here

[forensicfield]

Multiple Choice Questions on Forensic Medicine

1. The visual disturbances seen in methyl alcohol poisoning include all of the following, except? A) Concentric diminution of visual fields for color and form B) Pinpoint pupils C) Photophobia and blurred vision D) Sudden failure of vision

Continue reading Multiple Choice Questions on Forensic Medicine

[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

[fanfic-the-wish-your-heart-makes]

Nygmobblepot x Reader Jealousy Over the Reader's Ex Wanting Them Back (Headcanons)

@i-smoke-chapstick requested: absolutely ADORE your writing <3 if requests are still open id love to see some poly!nygmobblepot x reader jealousy headcanons? maybe just how these two deal with readers ex coming back for them 😂 take your time! Reader: gender-neutral (no pronouns) for both the reader and the ex Warnings: the love-interests having thoughts of murder & non-specified torture of the reader's ex, spoilers for what positions they're in in season 3 episode 5

•You're at an event with them, a gathering with people of various social classes, including your ex for some reason •Your boyfriends haven't outed you as their official date of course, that would be too dangerous with Oswald in such a high position, two positions, if you count his illegal business •He and Ed regret you being single in the eye of the public however, when they find out that your ex is there - before even knowing that the ex wants you back •Actually, just seeing you with someone else incites jealousy in both, knowing your past relationship or not

•Then they hear the ex bringing up your previous relationship and "how much they regret things not having worked the first time". •"First time"? More like last time!

•Forget Ed's "Love is about sacrifice, it's about putting someone else's needs before your own". He's a huge hypocrite. Yes, he'd sacrifice things for you, but he won't let you sacrifice even a little of your own happiness to make your ex feel better. Is that because he's jealous? Partly yes. A bigger part of it 🤫

•With Oswald, it depends on how much Ed and you have expressed that you dislike jealousy, cause he'll reign it in if it prevents you from being sad or angry at him, and keep the murder fantasies to a minimum...

•...unlike Ed. He'll see you talking with your ex and picture himself walking over to plunge a knife into the offending person's chest. His imagination can be rather vivid 💀. •Oswald has to shake him out of the fantasy, feeling rather lonely by now •Ed sees Oswald's worry and jumps into action: •He walks over to you and introduces your boyfriend to your ex, aiming to make a professional impression •With Oswald possibly still being more shaken, Ed does the talking, mentioning many a great deed of them while testing the stranger's knowledge •He does this using riddles that neither you nor Oswald can answer •To be honest, this makes Ozzie pretty insecure. He knows that Ed is showing off & using extra difficult questions but the ex forensic science technician looks at you as if only the people who know the answer were worthy of your love

•Oswald is quick to drag you away, not even giving your ex an explanation. He's a feared man, he doesn't need to justify himself. •Away from the party guests, Ozzie pads you down to look for harm •Ed asks whether you want them to take care of "the problem" •Both are very eager to make propositions about what they could do to your ex •They can get pretty graphic •Oswald could describe torture and Ed would admire him with heart eyes 😍😂

•After their initial rambling, your partners listen very closely to what you have to say •If the ex was abusive or is creeping you out...well, Owald slowly starts to smile rather innocently and is soon joined by Ed 🙃😂

•Until you know what you want to be done with your ex, Oswald's henchmen can always deal with the unwanted guest •Oswald can make use of his mayor security for you •They'll definitely do a background check, just to be sure. This is Gotham, they can't trust just about anyone, good taste or not 😉

•Now Ed is freaking out about the chances of you still being interested in your ex, even without having heard what you've got to say about it •Oswald is a little calmer and musters up the courage to ask about your feelings

•If you tell them that you still find your ex attractive, they're heartbroken. Two smart men reduced to sad kicked puppies. What did they do wrong?! Or what did your ex do so right? Can they do something? Anything? They'd worry about it a lot

•If you say that you "just" like your ex as a friend, they're still agitated •They probably both propose to out themselves as your boyfriend, only to follow it up with promising not to for your safety

•Unfortunately, the event must continue and so your ex talks to you again, much to your boyfriends' misery •They're very protective of each other and would normally offer to kill whoever's upsetting the other in a heartbeat •Now they just throw each other worried glances and direct glares at your ex together

•When the event is over - naturally or after a word from the mayor - you're quickly whisked away by them •Once alone with you, they're less agited •Perhaps you want to share your true hatred for your ex now? Or tell them what you love about them? Please 😢 •They need it

•After some time Ed calms down, not having Oswald's reflexes to analyze people's every micro expression •He'll show you why you should stay with him

Let's just say I wouldn't say no to making a one-shot with this topic in the future - because Ozzie definitely takes longer to be assured ;)

Author's note: Wow, those headcanons got quite long 😄🤗 Y'all let me know what you think :)

[angelinaheartshapedbox]

morbid attraction

Ethan Landry x reader

AU where Stu Macher has an illegitimate child. During Scream 6.

summary: Y/n is a freshman at Blackmore University. They're currently pursuing a bachelor's degree in forensic science to become an autopsy technician. To further their research, and to make money, they pick up shifts as a mortuary assistant. Y/n must come to terms with the trauma of gruesome murders of their hometown, copes with the memories of their ex girlfriend Amber Freeman, and with the fact that their father was a homicidal maniac. Running doesn't get them far from their past as it chases after them into New York City. But maybe there's light at the end of the tunnel. And maybe, just maybe, the light is Ethan Landry.

!!WARNINGS!! graphic descriptions of gore and violence, PTSD, and dealing with trauma. Major content warnings will be placed before each chapter.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Voicemail (3)

The Franchise

Wordcount: 1.5k

Content warnings: none.

I sat at the cafe table across from Ethan. I was quietly eating my lunch. When I looked up Ethan was just staring at me. His eyebrows were knitted together and he pursed his lips tight.

“Everything okay?” I asked him.

“I should be asking you that,” he answered, “I’m worried about you.”

I laughed, shaking my head, “I really am fine, E.”

He looked at me like he didn’t believe me, and he shouldn’t. I was so not fine. I was horrified. The thought of someone in that stupid mask coming for me made my stomach churn. I felt ill thinking about feeling another knife pierced through my skin. I looked back at Ethan, feeling scared for him now too.

“You should leave.”

“What?”

I sighed, “I don’t want you to get hurt, or worse. I think you should leave. Stop being around us. Try to get the fuck out.” I told him, almost begging.

Ethan narrowed his brows and shook his head, “I’m not going anywhere. You guys are my friends, I’m not leaving you for dead.”

I let out a breathy laugh. I almost cried looking at him. I looked down at the floor.

“Please, don’t do this, Ethan. Don’t be the hero.”

Ethan reached across the table and put his hand over mine, “Don’t do this, Y/n. You don’t need to be tough all by yourself. Let me help you.”

I pulled my hand away from his.

“We should go. Mindy wants to meet up.”

Ethan just nodded and got up from his seat.

My phone rang. It vibrated on the table, face down. I made eye contact with Ethan. He flipped the phone over for me. It was my mother.

“Shit.” I thought. I still hadn’t told her. She’s probably flipping out.

“Hi, Mom,” I said into the phone.

“Y/n? Oh, my God. Are you okay?” my mother spoke frantically, “I just heard about what’s happening, why didn’t you call?”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I was busy talking to the police all night after the attack and then-”

“Attacked?!”

“I’m okay, Mom. I have it under control. They’re really close to catching him” I felt bad lying to my mom, but it was for her own good.

I heard her sigh, “Call me tonight. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t. I love you.”

I left the cafe, leaving Ethan behind. I meet Mindy in the courtyard where everyone is sitting together. Ethan runs up next to me and we walk over to our friends. Mindy spots us and points us out to the group.

“Perfect! Let’s get started, take a seat” Mindy orders us.

Ethan takes a seat next to Tara, but I stay standing behind the bench.

Mindy starts clapping to get our attention, “Okay, nerds, listen up! As terrifying as this all is, I’m actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not catching the killers last time.” Everyone gives her weird looks and she sighs, “It’s fine. Okay,” she adjusts her top, “The way I see it, someone is out to make a sequel to the requel.”

Anika raises her hand, “Um, what’s a requel?”

“You’re beautiful, sweetie. Let’s hold questions to the end” Mindy tells her.

Sam cuts in, “Stab 1 took place in Woodsboro. Stab 2 took place in college.”

“I would call it the original Stab. Not Stab 1” I say with a smile.

I’m ignored by the group.

“So we think that the killer is trying to copy the movies?” Chad asks.

“That is one possibility,” Mindy replies, “Heroes now in college: Check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list and/or bodycount:” she points at Quinn, Anika and Ethan, “Check, check, and check.”

Ethan scrunches his face, “I don’t like this.”

“But it can’t just be about Stab 2” Mindy declares, ignoring Ethan. I pat his shoulder.

“Why not?” Tara asks.

Mindy continues, “It would make sense if this were just a sequel. But we’re not in a sequel because nobody just makes sequels anymore.” Nobody says anything and Mindy gets excited, “We’re in-”

“A franchise” I cut her off.

She stares at me deadpan, “Must you always be the star?”

I smirk, “Can’t help it with a face like this.” I wink and she rolls her eyes.

“There are certain rules to a continuing franchise!” she restarts her rant.

“I had a feeling,” Sam mutters.

Mindy states the rules.

“Rule one: Everything is bigger than last time. Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count.”

“Funsies” I intersect.

“Longer chase, shoot-outs, beheadings. You gotta top what came before to keep the people coming back!”

“Beheadings?” Chad questioned, writing in his notebook.

“Beheadings” Mindy doubled down.

I chuckle and do a slicing motion over my neck with my thumb. Ethan and Chad give me a disturbed expression.

“Rule two: Whatever happened last time, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations.” She takes a pause, “If the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with Letterboxd accounts instead of personalities…”

Ethan’s eyes go wide and he looks at the floor.

“You can bet the opposite will be true here. And rule three:”

She scans our faces, holding out for suspense.

“No one is safe. Legacy characters? Cannon fodder at this point. Usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia.”

“So, Kirby and Gale?” I inquired.

“Not looking too good for them” Mindy answers. “Oh, and that’s not even the worst part!”

Chad looks at Ethan, “This is the part where she tells us the worst part.”

“The worst part is franchises are just continuing episodic installments designed to boost IP. Which means main characters,” her eyes travel from me to Tara to Sam, "are completely expandable now, too.”

Mindy lists a bunch of characters that died in their own franchises to continue the story.

“That means it’s not just the friend group. Any of us could go at any time, especially Sam, Y/n, and Tara.” The expression on her face is more hurt now.

Everyone is quiet for a minute. Me, Sam, and Tara look at each other.

“Wait, any of us?” Ethan asks, breaking the silence.

“Yeah” Mindy nods.

He looks concerned, “Am- am I in the friend group?”

“Yeah” Mindy and I said together.

“Am I like one of the targets?”

I groan, “Oh, my God, Ethan!”

Ethan stares off into nothing and then asks, “Am I gonna die a virgin?”

I put my hands on his shoulders, “Oh, no, honey,” I whisper in his ear, loud enough for everyone to hear, “The virgins don’t die.

“That was… a weird overshare” Mindy replies, “But it brings us to our current suspects: Ethan. The shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky.”

Ethan stammers, “Okay, wait why am I on the suspect list? Because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate.”

“Yes,” I replied flatly.

“Roommate lotteries can be juked. You could’ve fixed it to get next to us!” Mindy clarifies.

Ethan rolls his eyes with attitude. I laugh and ruffle his hair.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” I ask him, deepen my voice.

He waves me away from his face, “Not funny.”

Mindy moves on, Quinn. The slutty roommate. A horror movie,” she kisses her fingers, “classic.”

“Sex positive but… thank you?” Quinn says, confused.

“Mm-hmm. And how did you come to live with Tara and our deadly duo?” Mindy interrogates her.

“Do not call us a deadly duo, that sounds like we’re dangerous” Sam tells her. She looks at me for back up. I shrug in response.

“Uh, I answered their ad online” Quinn answers.

Mindy puts her hand up, “Okay, say no more. You’ve already implicated yourself enough!”

“It was an anonymous ad, Mindy” Tara states, “And you know we vetted her. Plus her dad is a cop.”

“And that makes it more likely that she’s the killer, because having a cop dad is a great cover. Do you not remember how these movies work, Tara?!”

Quinn looks at us concerned, “Is she always like this?”

“And finally, Anika.” Anika blows a kiss and Mindy blows one back, “Never trust the love interest.”

Sam starts to stand up, “Okay! So, we have our rules and we have our suspects.”

“But wait,” Ethan interrupts her, “What about you guys?”

“I mean, I think it’s pretty safe to rule out the five of us who went through this last year in Woodsboro” Mindy states.

Chad points his pencil at her, “Agreed.”

“Totally” I add.

Quinn speaks now, “Um, not agreed. What if all the trauma you all went through caused one or more of you to snap?”

“Yeah, or the fame you got from the killings made you thirsty for more,” Ethan says.

I look at him, disappointed in his words. I take my hand off of his shoulder and cross my arms.

He continues, “I mean, let’s be honest here, some of the theories online about Sam are-”

“Don’t you fucking dare” Tara warns.

“What the fuck, dude?” I exclaim. I get pissed and walk away. I can hear my name being called, but I just keep walking.

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masterlist

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Hey mystery! Time to flex the big brain of yours with a science question. I’m sure that you’re familiar with the recent change in ages for Sonic and co. All of their ages were removed. So my question to you is how old would Sonic and his friends be since he’s now meant to be seen as TEENAGER?

Hello, my dear!❤️✨

This is a very interesting question. And I say that because it's a very... controversial (?) topic in the fandom at the moment. For those of you who are not familiar with the matter, the ages for many characters on their Sonic Channel bios were removed back in October (Bevan, 2022). Even characters like Vector and Rouge, who have notoriously been viewed as adults in canon, do not have a defined age anymore. This was a decision made by SEGA of Japan (SoJ) to keep the characters ambiguous with ages. For some characters, we can still infer that they’re strictly teenagers, like Sonic (Game Informer, 2022. 05:00 to 05:08). Maybe a little bit older, but not by much. It could range between 13-years-old to 19-years-old. It’s really up for interpretation with some fans, especially since the actors for the Sonic series are focusing on deeper voices.

Disclaimer:

I am more than happy to answer this question, but I’m afraid that I’m very limited on how I can answer this. Ages displayed throughout the series has always been a fickle thing. And that’s okay! I’m assuming that this ask is geared towards Game!Sonic rather than Sonic Wachowski, since his canonical age is 13-going-on-14 (Fowler, 2020). If this ask is geared towards me debunking the "age argument," then you might get a different answer. That, and I'm not gonna buy into the B.S. that comes from it.

The problem here is that I'm being asked to apply scientific logic to a fictional character. That's all well and good, but I'm limited in resources. That, and I'm making assumptions on how physiological traits work with an anthropomorphic animal. I'm basing my conclusions on human physiology. While this may seem logical for the ask, I don’t necessarily know how “fair." This would be considered more of a headcanon rather than a scientific explanation to your question. If there was more of an understanding of the Sonic characters’ anatomy, then I would be comfortable with giving a strong answer. They best that I can supply is a hypothetical scenario that might supply a content answer. “Content” meaning that’s it’s fine, but gives me enough wriggle room to debunk/empathize in the future.

I must also stress that an average does not mean the "perfect model." No singular person is the same. There is no such thing as normal. When I say that something is of average comparison, I'm translating it to a general starting point. I need a base to go on in order to build on top of my reasoning and data.

References:

For this ask, I will be looking at cranial structures and comparing them to both human, anthropomorphic animals (Sonic). Data that is generated to answer this ask comes from existing games, interviews with game developers, and anthropological research.

The methodology and techniques that I’ll be referencing comes from “Bare Bones: A Survey of Forensic Anthropology” by, Michael Warren et al. (2012). This is an excellent book that provides techniques and disciplines to criminologists, anthropologists, and physicians. The Smithsonian: National Museum of Natural History provides a sample of "Forensic Anthropology 101" in their free educational service HERE. I’ll also be referencing different case studies found in cultural anthropology journals. Hyperlinks will be attached in the in-text citations for view.

Methods:

I can answer this question using basic forensic techniques. There are a few different ways to determine an individual’s age when examining skeletal anatomy:

Cranial anatomy

The pelvic girdle (pelvis)

Femur

Mandible

Most archaeologists and forensic anthropologists will answer that the pelvic girdle is the best indicator for identifying an individual's age. The pelvis girdle consists of three main bones: hip bone (ilium, ischium, pubis), sacrum and the coccyx. With this, we look at the level of maturity of bone growth to make an educated guess. This can be identified by the bone's state of fusion. Depending on the identification of the individual, the pubis may fuse or grow robust. If the femur is present with the pelvis girdle, then the collected data becomes stronger. The femur is measured in height from the neck to the head, then the shaft alone to provide an idea of one's stature. All of these together create a plausible stature for one's growth and maturity.

The mandible is touch-and-go. I’ve shared in the past that teeth can provide an idea of an individual’s weight, social/economic status, stature, left/right dominance, and types of bite when chewing food. The state in which teeth grow in can give us an indication of age. This is just as good as observing one's age with a pelvis girdle. If not, maybe a bit better! However, this only works if there's a certain amount of teeth present and a record of growth is present. We look at an individual’s molars and premolars in order to determine a rough estimate in age. On average, wisdom teeth come in between the ages of 17 to 25 (Renton et al., 2016). Some are late bloomers, others are early birds. X-Rays can help us identify where the teeth are currently and provide a projection of when they'll appear. As long as there is recorded data on how teeth grow and when they come in, it's easy to determine how old someone is.

Finally, we have the calvaria. For the sake of sanity, I will be referring to this as the “cranial cap." This is the top crown of the head with four major bones that shapes the skull. These bones feature the frontal bone, two parietal bones, and one occipital bone. Along the top of the cranial cap we see these squiggles that separate the bones. These are called “sutures.” Sutures can be defined or barely visible due to the state of mend. Through maturity, these bones mend together to create one bone rather than four. These are not signs of damage done to the head, these are signs that show the state in which a child is growing (Warren et Al., 2012). Sutures are a result of an infant's cranial cap fusing together after being birthed. To put simply; the less defined they are, the older that one supposedly is.

OBSERVATION:

As explained in the “Methods,” section, the cranial cap and mandible appear to be a more logical choice when determining Sonic’s age. I am fortunate for the small crumbs given to me from Sonic CD (1994) and Sonic Unleashed (2008). Both of these provide a good picture of Sonic’s biological estimation on age range. I will not be referring to Evan Stanley’s interpretation of his skull. I do not feel that this is necessary, nor canon. This is Ms. Stanley’s interpretation of Sonic anatomy and fan art.

Mandible

Right before it's initial release, Sonic Unleashed's opening cinematic was meant to have a darker tone. Initially, the beta version of the scene depicted Sonic being electrocuted in his super form as he's infused with Dark Gaia energy. This scene was also meant to show his skeleton during the painful transformation. Screenshots of the scene are available online. One particular shot shows enough of Sonic's mandible to identify canine, incisor, premolars, and molars. The image above shows that at least ONE wisdom tooth (third molar) is present. Other signs of third molars is not visible due to angle of shot.

In the animated short titled "Night of the Werehog," we're given a good shot of Sonic opening his mouth and showing his fangs. Way in back are three molars (Image has been brightened and highlighted for view). Since one confirmed wisdom tooth is present in the shot, we could infer that Sonic is at least 17-years-old. Not fifteen. Seventeen is the average age for when we see wisdom teeth begin to grow in.

Cranial anatomy/Cranial Cap

In Sonic CD (1993), there is a particular scene where Sonic is electrocuted once again. [Fun Fact: one would not be able to see Sonic's skeleton if electrocuted, you'd see his nervous system instead.] Once again, players are able to see Sonic's entire skeletal system. The problem with this example is that it's pixelated art. Pixel art can range from being detailed works of art, or simplified icons that have symbolic meaning. The skeletal anatomy that we see of Sonic in the CD title is not enough for me to draw a conclusion on how old he is. It's merely a representation of a shock taking place.

For a better representation of a cranial cap, we should refer to the beta version of Sonic Unleashed once more. Sutures on Sonic's skull are a tad harder to make out in the image due to how saturated the scene is. A wonderful example of seeing Sonic's cranial suture can be seen at a side profile. The one closes to the sphenoid bone (eye socket) is a cranial suture. Again, this one is up for debate since the quality of the photo is poor. For the sake of sanity, we'll claim that this is a suture.

Examining the suture, we see that it's less defined. This does not mean that the sutures disappear completely. As we grow older, the bone fuses. If Sonic were younger, then the sutures would be more defined. Here, they've fused quite finely. This leads me to believe that he is out of the child phase (1yr to 12yrs) and into Adolescence (13yrs to 17yrs).

Femur & Pelvic Girdle/Pelvis

Generally, there's a model that can be used to display what a mature individual looks like compared to an adolescent when observing a pelvis girdle. Here, it's a bit harder for me to make an assumption because there's a lacking model of what adults and adolescents look like for anthropomorphic animals. This is a query that I've faced when trying to examine Sonic's skeletal anatomy. Of course, measuring a femur and weighing the density of bone could provide some insight on Sonic's estimated age (Shipman, 2018).

In a real world, that would require lots of money and an actual subject that is the equivalent to Sonic's height and weight (canonically, Sonic is 100cm tall and weighs 35kg). You'd then have to figure how much the bone density changes when someone stands up, sits down, lies down, and so forth. Plus, I don't know Sonic's level of body fat to even begin doing a simple calculation. It's a bit of a headache the more that this is tackled upon. That is a lot of data to collect for a talking blue hedgehog.

Measurements of the femur to the pelvis are fine and dandy, but the data is inconclusive. A simple measurement could be off by a single year or three. Once more, it's kind of hard to capture a crisp picture of the pelvis girdle and femur. I feel that gathering data from this perspective is inconclusive.

Discussion:

I must stress that this isn’t meant to be as in-depth or taken seriously. I must also stress that many social groups around the world have different approaches and cultural definitions to what it means to be a teenager. This is a common topic that I try to educate people about when it comes to cultural norms and social practices. Most western cultures consider that teenagers starting at 13yrs of age and ending at 17yrs of age before becoming a legal adult at 18yrs. Some western cultures even extend the age gap to 13yrs to 19yrs. Cultural and social teachings of how we define what is and isn’t a teenager could easily be defined as “adolescence.” We refer to this as adolescence, it allows us to have an extended age gap of 13yrs to 19yrs (Ember et Al., 2017). It all narrows down to how these practices and beliefs are taught within one’s community.

Some fans headcanon Sonic and his friends are growing older, others younger… or even stick with the Western interpretation of him being 15-years-old. Sonic's age has always been ambiguous, meaning that it's not narrowed down to a specific number. The query that I've faced is that there is a lack of official material that displays this easily. The information that I have shared in this post works on a plausible theory that he's older than 15. However, gaming manuals have almost always made it a point hat hes 15/16 (Sonic Heroes Game Manual, 2003). The point now is that he's a teenager. He will always be viewed as a teenager in this canon. To me, Game!Sonic is definitely older. He clearly shows characteristics of being an older version of himself (the strongest supporting evidence here being his teeth), but still within the range of being classified as a "teenager."

My goal here is to not enforce one way of thinking. The most that I can do is supply the data and leave you, the reader, to make your own conclusions. I hope that this answers your question, my dear.