#How to become a forensic pathologist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosegolqen · 3 months

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Per aspera ad astra

spencer reid x oc

i. vers un nouveau départ

Take a look at our new menu.

On your far left side is our everyday option, you can find that it is our most useful and precise tool: the scalpel. While scalpels come in many different shapes and sizes, their existence stays the same; for making skin incisions, tissue dissections, cutting open and piercing through the flesh to get access to various organs.

Next to the scalpel lays our bone saw. The metal is sharpened every day, while we may not use it on every occasion, it is there to provide us with smooth level cuts to the bone. Literally. In addition to surgery, they are also used in forensics, torture and dismemberment.

Don’t be afraid, our other specialities are not as disturbing as the one above. Just smile.

You can see one of our most useful desserts on your right side; rib cutters. Or otherwise known as rib shears. As the name implies, it is used to cut the rib cage to open the chest for examination. It quite resembles a pair of normal cutting scissors. Many in the business opt for gardening shears as a cheaper alternative, but it’s recommended to purchase true rib dissection shears to ensure quality material for long-term use and ease the cleaning process.

But that’s just our advice.

Do you want me to continue or have you decided what you’ll choose as your option for dinner?

No?

Alright. Let’s continue then. I’m going to tell you our most successful and used sell.

Our post-mortem needles. They are very well known is our expertise. They are used for suturing the skin after a wound or a necropsy. It helps to return the body to a natural-looking state. In easier words for people who are not as bright as us. To sew you back up and look as new as before.

Very helpful in our line of work.

Have you decided yet?

Yes?

Hmm…

Excellent choice. Let’s get to work.

The room’s cold temperature should have made her shiver but she was more than used to the freezing conditions of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s morgue. She was too tired to head upstairs to her office so Aubrey rather stayed here. In the dark, where corpses kept her company every day.

It was rather...quiet. Pure silence. In her most honesty, she didn’t mind it. Living people talked enough already, but corpses never utter any words. Well, not with their mouths, anyway. Rather their bodies. What they endured. How they withstood the things they did. How they fought back against illnesses, addiction or the worst-case scenario— mankind.

The freshly brewed coffee’s taste made the doctor focus a little better than before. A recent case of murder fully operating on her desk and her mind was full of thoughts about the multiple strange things that happened to the victim’s body.

Half an hour ago Aubrey read the reports of the previous three bodies. As the fourth appeared the FBI stepped in, transporting the girl’s corpse to her to examine it.

Sondra Watts. One of many unfortunate souls to pass away from violence.

The three previous reports about the girls were written by different pathologists. He explained that the victims showed a sign of dehydration and torture. True, she thought as she examined the last victim, Sondra’s appearance.

The killer’s first victim was Melissa Kirsch, she was first attempted to be strangled, said the report. The purple and blue bruises around her neck like a beautiful necklace adorned with different types of jewels indicate that on the photo included in the file.

Photos of victims were just as disturbing as seeing their bodies. But Aubrey was never that picky. She always wanted to work with people, dead or alive.

Melissa, the first victim, however, didn’t die of strangulation in the end, she was stabbed. The photos showed the craters on her wounds, they were a dark red colour in contrast to her pale, white skin. The colour of her hair seemed dull and grey. Lifeless.

Perfecting his method, the killer started using a belt with his second murder. He started to become more ruthless and angry. Years of trauma and pain from a young age can destroy a person like that for them to attempt and do such unforgivable things to another human. It seemed absurd and impossible. It meant that for someone out there, there was no saving.

All of the victim’s eyes sunk into their faces, and harsh marks and scratches covered their eye areas. The pathologist explained in his reports that he thought the victim’s eyes were covered with tape.

Also true, Aubrey thought.

Sondra happened to have the same wounds around her eyes. Her eyes were not the only thing this killer hurt, while there was no indication of sexual assault, gashes of red and purple covered Sondra’s mouth as well.

It could be possible that a gag covered her mouth at the time she was held captive.

One of the strangest things this killer did to his victims was to cut and polish their fingernails. A sign of remorse. Coming from a psychotic killer it seemed…unthinkable and it made Aubrey nauseous to her stomach.

As she took out the fourth victim’s organs and measured them, then wrote them down on a note pad Aubrey wondered how these girls felt in the last minutes of their lives. Did they accept that they were going to die? Or did they hope even in their last breaths that someone was on their way to save them? Only to lose that hope and die after a week of being held captive?

She didn’t want to think about it but hundreds of corpses come and go through this morgue alone. How many people are victims of cruelty and violence every day?

“A lot, I imagine.”

Aubrey turned her head to the voice. A shadow stood in the doorway leading up to the offices. He was tall, rather built nicely but never her type. The voice belonged to Dr Damien Morris. Her coworker and second in command in this Pathology Unit.

Damien was always…a bit obsessed. Always asking to spend time together even though she denied him a few times already. Always acting too nice and defensive, ignoring Aubrey’s boundaries or the dates she’s gone on over the years. Let’s not talk about jealousy, he never got the point. And she doesn’t think he ever will. He’s a nice guy— don’t get her wrong but Aubrey never felt that spark between them that he was trying so hard to bring alive.

It was annoying at this point but he’s a good pathologist. A good person. She wouldn’t want to destroy the slight friendship they worked on in the last two years. Also, he’s not the only one, so this was not her first time dealing with obsessive people.

“I thought you went home?” Aubrey asked Damien as she took off her bloodied gloves. Throwing them out in the bin, her steps took her to the sink where she rinsed her hands thoroughly with soap two times. The cloth in which Aubrey dried her hands was soft, almost too unbearably soft.

She made her way to the desk. Taking a sip of the still-hot coffee as she sat down. Her focus was on filling out the paperwork for the victim. Her neat handwriting stopped for a second as Damien came closer.

“Nah, I thought you might need some help?” He pulled out the other chair and sat down. He was wearing his light blue button-up as usual. His black trousers fit him flawlessly, tailored to perfection to his body.

“No, thank you. I’ve got it all covered.” She looked at him, offering him a silent smile. The room’s temperature dropped— she was sure or maybe she imagined it. Aubrey hasn’t slept in in a while, her mind was playing tricks with her, she convinced herself. “The fax machine doesn’t work though, so I have to bring the report of the victim to Agent Jareau personally.”

Damien offered, “I can come with you if you’d like?” His smile was giving her the creeps even though it seemed genuine.

“Damien, go home.” She shook her head, a few of the shorter face-framing curls falling in her face as they escaped the clip they’d been in all day. “You’ve been here all night.” Aubrey frowned as she looked at her Cartier Tank Louis watch on her wrist. “Or morning. It’s 4:48”

“So have you been.” Damien leaned closer, his elbow almost touching hers. His strong cologne hit her as she took a breath. It was too masculine and strong.

Aubrey cleared her throat as she stood up. Her tone changed as she spoke to him. Authority was evident as she was still his boss. He should not be questioning how long she was to stay in and work. “Yes, but I’m the Head of the Forensic Pathology Unit.” On the other hand, Aubrey understood his concerns though. It has been a long workday for the both of them and he was nice and just looking out for her as she would be for him. “Go home. I promise after I finish this I’ll be on my way home too.”

“Alright.” He hesitantly agreed. Standing up he made his way to the exit, but not without looking back and staring at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Instantly as Damien left she felt relieved. Aubrey would accept his behaviour as long as he did his job well and stayed in the zone of friendship and nothing more.

6:02

Aubrey finished her report and put it in a light brown, beige folder with the victim's name. She washed her hands again, took on another pair of gloves and started to sew the open chest of Sondra Watts together.

After a few swift stitches along the girl’s abdomen that didn’t take her too long, she was finished sewing back her skin. Sondra was only skin and bones now. Her brain got removed at first yesterday, by another pathologist who worked here. He’s an expert in human brains and determined that the victim’s brain didn’t suffer any head trauma.

Aubrey covered her body again with a white surgical cloak. She pushed the victim’s body into the cooler that was reserved for her as long as her body would stay there. In a few days, she would be transported back to her family and most probably be buried.

The coffee on the desk ran cold, but the doctor still drank it. It didn’t do anything good for her organs but she could not take chances of falling asleep. Although over the years her body mastered the ability to stay awake longer than it could take.

6:32 in the morning.

Great. The bakeries were about to open up. She could grab some breakfast on her way to the FBI’s headquarters where Agent Jennifer Jareau worked with her team. Aubrey could have called an agent to come for the files but she haven’t seen her blond-haired friend in a while. She’s been busy with work and the writing process of the second book for her trilogy.

That’s a lie. There wasn’t any progress, so far. She hasn’t even started writing that book. But nobody needs to know that.

While balancing work and her personal life, she had time last year to finish her first-ever book. It even got her first place in the New York Times Bestselling Author list within the first two days of publishing. She’s held that title for about 47 weeks.

Aubrey pulled the three last victim’s files from the top drawer in the desk. Adding the one she finished before, she threw her slightly bloodied cloak into the washing bin as she made her way out of the morgue. She could take the stairs but her feet carried her rather to the comfort of the elevator. The morgues were in the basement and all of the people's offices and desks who worked here were on the top floors.

As she got her bag and purse from her office, Aubrey noticed how bright it was already outside. You easily lose track of time down there with no windows to remind you of the outside world. Only your clock ticking, the cold temperature and corpses held you together, they were there to evoke memories of the living people.

The orange hues painted the sky a beautiful picture. Swirls of lavender were still evident from the night but slowly starting to disappear as the sun made its presence known today. A few people rushed, running to catch their train for their early shift. Some walked slower, enjoying the quiet morning of Virginia.

Aubrey was glad the FBI’s headquarters was only a few streets away from her office. It made sense that the two buildings would be close to each other. All medical files of the victims run through them, they check to make sure everything is in place and correctly done before being brought over to the different Units of the federal bureau.

The building looked like any other dull-painted facility in Quantico. While on the outside it seemed normal and boring, the inside was filled with working agents and people who have caught a dozen criminals in their years of work.

Aubrey has only been here a few times in her life but the security guards who greeted her as she stepped into the foyer were always sweet. She only had to show her badge the first three times she visited, after the fourth, they let her in without the need to show it. Of course, you were still required to pass your luggage through an x-ray machine where they check for dangerous items between your stuff.

The receptionist who sat at her table welcomed Aubrey happily. She was rather beautiful. Her outfit represented every inch of a wealthy lady. The first time Aubrey has been here she needed the receptionist's help with pointing her in the right direction of the Behavior Analysis Unit but by now Aubrey knows it like the back of her hand. Or rather human bodies.

She headed to the elevator, stepped in and pressed the right button. The shiny metal door closed, her reflection greeting her. She had to admit, she looked tired but it was nothing a bit of makeup wouldn’t be able to fix tomorrow. After she drops off the files Jennifer needed Aubrey would head home just like she promised Damien. She doesn’t think she even has the energy to stop by her favourite bakery.

The sound of the elevator stopping and its door sliding open brought her attention back. Her steps were confident as she strode to the glass doors leading to another room filled with working desks. Some people were already working, filling out all kinds of papers and reports.

Aubrey didn’t need to head to Agent Jareau’s office because she was already on her way to the pathologist. She texted the agent before she left her office that she was going to drop the victim’s files off. By the look on Jennifer’s face, she arrived at the right moment.

Her kind smile brought one on Aubrey’s face as well. She pulled her into a quick hug. Has it been this long since Aubrey has seen her blond friend? “I’ve missed you, you know?”

Aubrey groaned, “Yes, I know. By the way, you are crushing my clavicle bone.” She returned the hug equally as brutally as Jennifer but she didn’t seem to mind. The pathologist only realized now how she needed Jennifer as a friend in her life. She loved her quick wits and gentle personality. She made her feel safe every time she was with the agent. It’s been such a long time since they’ve gone out together or got coffee.

“I hate your fancy words.” JJ released her and she could only grin at her expression, her lips tugging into a teasing smirk “Just say collarbone.” The agent shook her by her shoulders, “Uhm, excuse me? How was Egypt?”

“Oh god, I haven’t even told you about it. It was amazing, I loved it.” Three months ago Aubrey was invited by a research group and some archaeologists who found a mummified woman fifteen miles from Cairo. They asked her to research the dried tissue of the mummy and find the cause of death. While that took a long time she still enjoyed her time in Cairo. She learned about the culture, and the city’s history and even made some acquaintances.

After two months of careful work with a team of specialists, they were able to determine the woman’s age and how long ago she passed away. Their study also found the infectious disease that afflicted the people of her time. She sadly fell victim to this sickness as well and passed away at the age of 21 with a small fetus in her belly.

“I read the article.” JJ gushed loudly, throwing her hands in the air. Working Agents gazed irritated their way from the loud communication in the quiet early morning but they ignored them. “‘American-British Forensic Pathologist Dr Aubrey Crawford helps identify the mummified body in Egypt.’ I even bought the newspaper and taped it to my wall in my office.”

Aubrey groaned, her cheeks burning from her friend’s teasing. Covering her face with her hands she laughed, “To be fair I was not the only one doing the work. They should have included the other scientists' names as well.”

“You deserve to be in the spotlight for once.”

The pathologist dropped her hands from her face, “Still. Made me feel bad. Then I remembered how much money I spent on med school and instantly felt better.” JJ laughed, shaking her head. Aubrey reached into her bag, pulled out four beige files and handed her friend the documents, “This is for you, my darling.”

The victims’ names were written neatly on the front of the files. Jennifer’s mood instantly soured, her brown furrowed. And her cool mask of concentration slipped on. “Four murders in four months. The fifth victim was already abducted.” She took the files from her hands. “You know, you didn’t have to bring the papers over. You could’ve E-mailed them to me.”

“It’s fine, I’m on my lunch break anyway.”

“Your lunch break is at 7 o’clock?”

The brunette shrugged, “You know, it’s a lot easier when you’re the Head of the Forensic Pathology Unit.”

JJ’s chest rumbled, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. “I can imagine. Thank you for the papers. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Alright.” Aubrey nodded. Sometimes if the case required her friend to ask her to explain her observations and findings to the team. It only happened one time when a genius colleague of hers was sick and JJ insisted Aubrey’s gifted brain and gentle explanation would help her team understand the medical terms she used in her report better. “Jennifer?”

“Yes?”

“Could I use the coffee machine?” She had her eyes set on the device since she stepped into the bullpen. Aubrey didn’t think she would be able to go home awake without another coffee and she didn’t want to start an accident on the busy roads of Quantico.

Gentle motherly thoughtfulness shone in JJ’s eyes. She hoped the dark circles she could practically feel below her eyes weren’t that obvious. “Of course, help yourself out. That’s the least I can offer.”

“Thanks.” Aubrey greatly appreciated her blond-haired friend. She hugged her goodbye one last time, parting farewell and promising to call her later this week so they could catch up.

Turning around with heavy steps Aubrey made her way to the far left corner of the room. The surface of the grey table, which oddly resembled a kitchen counter from the expensive magazines, lay with all kinds of ingredients you would need for your coffee. Cabinets and rows of mugs were your choices to pick from. She settled for a basic white cup with the FBI’s logo. She would bring the cup back the next time she was to come in again to work or visit JJ.

Pouring water into the reservoir, and finding the already ground coffee beans on the counter Aubrey quickly slid the paper filter into the brewing basket of the coffee machine. She needed a strong coffee, so she put two big spoonfuls of coffee grounds in the filter. Shutting the brewing baskets lid, she gently pressed the button on the machine, the button lighting up in a red colour. Waiting for the coffee to drip down, she busied herself by putting two teaspoons of sugar in the white mug. Taking the milk out of the fridge and an unused teaspoon from the drawer, Aubrey waited for her coffee to be ready.

After waiting for about a few minutes and the coffee still didn’t drip down how it was supposed to, she gave up on waiting. Shaking her head at the thought, she didn’t want to ask JJ what was wrong with their coffee machine but Aubrey guessed she could stop by and just buy a small latte on her way home.

Before that happened and she could put her mug in the sink, she felt a presence beside her. Even though he was near her, he still paid attention not to brush his body against hers. Tall and lean, with his long fingers covering the machine and opening the lid again. His delicate touch made her eyes only focus on his hands and how they were pinching a tube inside the coffee machine.

Aubrey realized he was fixing the device, already having experience with the old machine. This most probably happened too often. “Thanks.” Her gaze left his hands as her eyes found his. He quickly looked down, not granting Aubrey the ability to see his eyes longer. Selfish. She didn’t mind openly staring at him, he was worth looking at. “I’m Aubrey Crawford.”

“I know.” He sucked in an embarrassing breath, “I mean—“ the stranger stumbled over his words, his head shaking slightly, making a few brown hairs fall into his eyes, which he quickly pushed behind his left ear again. She smiled at the deep scarlet blush appearing on his cheeks, “I-i don’t know. But I know. I’ve read your book.” Tall, lean and attractive stopped fumbling with his hands, the coffee machine turning on. Instantly coffee dripped down, the smell reaching her nose. Or maybe it was the stranger. She wasn’t sure. It was delightful, nevertheless.

“Ah.” Of course. Her books. Aubrey was rather proud of them. Sad that he only knew her because of them.

The man, who was probably around her age, gestured to the coffee machine. Awkwardly scratching his neck. So definitely not a social person who liked or better— knew how to make small talk. “It’s a bit tricky.”

“I noticed.” He reached from his neck to massage his right shoulder with his left hand. He seemed to be doing that a lot based on his poor posture and his slightly rounded shoulders. The stranger then straightened to his full height. Oh. Aubrey was tall without wearing heels but she still had to crane her neck to look up at him. He still avoided meeting his eyes with hers as he dropped his hand from his shoulder and reached for a mug in the cabinet beside him.

When he turned back to Aubrey, she gently moved her finger to rest on her chin, the movement making him look her in the eyes, “You have beautiful eyes.”

He clearly didn’t expect the compliment by the way he reacted to her words, “Th-thank you.” The stranger took all his courage and advice from his friends by the way he took a big breath, he most probably did a thing he was not often brave enough to do. He introduced himself, and a pretty voice flowed out of his throat even though he only said his name. She was mesmerized.

Aubrey doesn’t know what was wrong with her. Sleep deprivation. Definitely. She should stop staring. She will. Just a few more seconds with him. “I’m Spencer.”

“Spencer…” Her voice sounded strange to her ears as she spoke his name. “I like it. Very unique.”

“Actually, the name Spencer, according to the Social Security Administration of the United States, began increasing steadily in its popularity as a male given name in the early twentieth century and spiked dramatically in the 1980s, 1990s, and early 2000s. Today about 2353 people are named Spencer.”

He talked fast and enthusiastically. Never did Aubrey hear someone say something so confidently and without tripping over his words while the syllables flowed out of his mouth at this speed. It was fascinating and endearing. He was. This stranger. “Do you do that often?”

“What…?” The furrow of his brows told Aubrey, the stranger expected something negative to be fired back at him.

She shrugged, “Charm every lady you see with your smart facts.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at her forwardness, his mouth and perfectly anatomical teeth on display as he smiled. He seemed nervous, his right hand rubbed the palm of his left. “No, that rarely happens.”

“Well, Spencer, you’ve been successful today then.” She smiled at him, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hitting her nose once again. Reaching around Spencer she served her cup halfway up, stirring the coffee with the teaspoon thoroughly so that all the sugar grains melted. Unscrewing the cap from the milk bottle, Aubrey filled her mug to the brim with milk and stirred it again. “Thank you for helping me. I’ll see you around later.” She waved him goodbye, putting her used spoon into the sink.

“Yeah. You too.”

Aubrey didn’t look back at him as she walked away. The bullpen was slowly but steadily filling with more people while the sun rose higher and the day started. All these people with different lives working for the same reason. To save and to protect.

The tall stranger was left dumbfoundedly staring at her retreating form, his coffee forgotten in his hand. He only realized later when he was sitting in the conference room with his team already working on a case that he forgot to ask for her number. He didn’t forget anything. Nothing slips past his mind. Never.

Yet, this strange irking feeling clawing at his insides told him that they will cross paths again.

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ixhika-jsx · 1 month

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## What’s a Cyber Forensic Investigator?

Master post - part 1 • part 2

You must have heard bout forensics yk investigating bout dead people who might have been killed and all

You must have seen shows on those topics too.Cyber forensic investigator is just of same kind but investigating through all types of modern gadgets.

Catching hackers and all but cooler

### The Money Talk: How Much Do They Make?

- **Cash Money**: Expect to rake in about $60k to $120k a year. If you are very much experienced and skilled then you can expect about 150k+ a year.(obv different countries and companies may have different wages)

### Companies That Want You

- **Tech Titans**: Google, Amazon, Facebook—they all have requirement for such heroes

- **Gov Jobs**: FBI, CIA—basically every spy agency wants you.

- **Cybersecurity Firms**: CrowdStrike, McAfee—so every gateway you go you gonna have opportunities everywhere.

### What Other Forensic Investigators Are There?

- **Forensic Pathologists**: Real-life detectives who figure out how someone died. Less tech, more science.

- **DNA Analysts**: The ones matching DNA samples

- **Forensic Accountants**: Following the money to catch fraudsters and scammers

- **Toxicologists**: Poison experts, figuring out if someone’s been covertly poisoned. (Yeaa yk snow white story)

### What’s the Work Environment Like?

- **The Lab**: Imagine a room filled with more screens than your gaming setup. Gadgets galore, maybe even a Red Bull or two

- **On the Move**: Sometimes you’re out in the field, collecting evidence. Think of it like collecting rare items in a game.

- **Remote Vibes**: You could be solving cybercrimes from your bed in your PJs .

### How Long Does It Take to Become One?

- **Time Investment**: About 4 years for a bachelor’s, and then 1-2 more years for a master’s if you’re going all-in. So, 5-6 years total. But hey, good things take time, right?

### What Do You Study?

- **Cybersecurity/Computer Science**: Your main jams. Think of them as the ultimate cheat codes for this career.

- **Digital Forensics**: Specialized courses where you learn to be a digital ninja.

- **Law and Ethics**: Learning how to catch the bad guys without breaking the law yourself. (You yourself don't want to be troubled obviously)

### Subjects You Need to Get Into It

- **Math**: Yep, but not the boring kind—more like coding and algorithms.

- **Computer Science**: Your go-to for everything techy.

- **Optional Nerd Points**: Chemistry/Physics if you’re into hardware forensics or just want to flex those brain muscles.

### Work Hours: What to Expect?

- **9 to 5-ish**: Standard hours if you’re working for a company, but expect some late nights or weekend shifts when big cases pop up.

- **On-Call Madness**: Sometimes you’re on-call like a digital firefighter. Cyber-attack at 3 AM? Time to suit up (or log in) and handle it.

- **Flexible/Remote**: If you’re lucky, you can work from home. Just remember, no solving crimes in your underwear during Zoom meetings!

### Interview with a Cyber Forensic Investigator

**Interviewer**: What’s a day in the life of a cyber forensic investigator?

**Cyber Sleuth**: Imagine rolling out of bed, grabbing your coffee, and diving into cases. I’m talking analyzing hard drives, sifting through emails, or tracking down cyberattack origins. Some days it’s all data, other days I’m working with law enforcement or testifying in court. Never a dull moment!

**Interviewer**: What’s the coolest case you’ve worked on?

**Cyber Sleuth**: Helping bust a phishing ring that was scamming millions. Tracked their digital footprints, caught the culprits, and recovered their loot. Felt like a total legend.

**Interviewer**: Ever seen some dark stuff, like murders?

*Cyber Sleuth**: Yeah, I’ve stumbled across some pretty grim stuff. It’s not all memes and malware—sometimes it’s serious business. But catching those bad guys makes it all worth it.

**Interviewer**: Have you ever been on the dark web?

**Cyber Sleuth**: Oh, for sure. It’s like the sketchy underbelly of the internet. Lots of shady deals. I go there when I need to, but it’s not a fun hangout spot.

**Interviewer**: How dark can a case get?

**Cyber Sleuth**: It can get really intense. I’ve worked on cases involving human trafficking and other serious crimes. It’s tough, but making a difference makes it worth it.

**Interviewer**: Any advice for someone who wants to get into this field?

**Cyber Sleuth**: Stay curious and keep learning. Tech evolves fast, so you’ve gotta keep up. And don’t be afraid to dig deep—sometimes the answers are buried in tons of data, but finding them is like hitting gold.

So if you’re into tech and have subjects like mathematics , chemistry and physics then you are all set to start your journey.i have seen ppl running for a common a job and all and they are not even specified about what they want. So just research and find out what you want.

#masterpost #career #self development #light academia #study blog #academic validation #academic weapon #student life #study #study motivation #study with me #studyblr #studyblr community #forensics #computer #codeblr #masterpostjam

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prongsfish · 2 months

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sigh

im post blocked

anyway

FISHALICIOUS

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE EVAN ROSIER HEADCANONS

(ive been asking everyone because he's slowly becoming my favourite)

just now realising you asked this nearly a month ago i'm so sorry i don't know why i struggle with answering asks so much!! but anyways evan headcanons i will GLADLY give. my characterisation of him is less concrete than characters like barty or regulus but i think about him loads still i love him...

this is a classic ofc but i will always see him and pandora as twins!! i love siblings in media so much and i think it allows for suuupper interesting dynamics between them, even in canon

in muggle aus my go-to career for him is either a piercer or something in the medical science field. i can just picture him as this mildly off-putting medsci student who goes on to be a forensic pathologist or something, he's really intrigued by the human body and how it functions in various ways. could definitely also go the way of unlicensed surgeon or mad scientist who performs fucked up experiments on people but that sort of thing doesn't quite fit into every fic lmaoo

i've always thought of him as more of a piercings guy than a tattoo guy (which is the opposite to barty). he'd definitely have both but i associate him more with piercings if that makes sense? i imagine he'd have a labret, bridge, stretched lobes (~7/8"), stretched septum (~0g), eyebrows (normal and middle placements), and high nostrils. all symmetrical!! plus probably some other non-facial piercings

he'd love sci-fi, thriller, and horror (especially psychological) films. anything super tense and probably confusing

when he was a child he and pandora would trap and kill insects. they'd spend ages examining little bug bodies and dissecting them with sticks and stuff... as he grew older he became more and more interested in bigger animals. occasionally he would kill animals himself but more often he'd search for those already dead, especially roadkill. once he was finished with any given specimen he'd carefully remove, clean, and reconstruct their skeletons to give to pandora. she didn't like the organs stuff as much as he did but she loved collecting bones and taxidermy insects, in exchange one year for his birthday (10-14th, maybe) she spent ages searching to buy him a surgical set from an antique store

waaay scarier than barty. if you don't know them you might be more initially scared by barty but while barty is loud and crazy and violent and laughs at pain/danger, evan is creepy. he knows way a million and one ways to kill someone without leaving behind any evidence. he knows every single pressure point on the human body. someone mentions a medicine they've taken their whole life for the first time and when someone else asks what it is he can explain in minute detail exactly how it works to the point where not even the person who takes it knew even half of what he says. he's super quiet moving without even meaning to be so he scares the shit out of people all the time. he doesn't blink as often as he should but just often enough that you don't notice until you're paying attention. and this is all revealed gradually, whereas barty's most "scary" traits are purposefully the most surface level things about him

he loooves medical dramas. he's watched tons of them. he HATES the good doctor though, purely on principle because once someone said that must be his favourite because he's autistic. his actual favourite is house

he runs cold and NEVER wears shorts. lots of beanies and jackets

these were so random and i went on a few tangents but oh well i did like five other things between writing these so it's a bit of a mess LMAO

#a #james tag #evan rosier #er

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centaurianthropology · 6 months

Note

Hi hii! I’m just wondering, what were the struggles/how to get into forensic pathology because this is my 3rd year in med school and ide like to become a forensic later on so do you perhaps have any tips or things I should take note on?

Okay, that's a tricky question, since it's so region specific. So, caveat before I begin: this only really applies to US residencies/FP track. Anywhere else is going to have different systems, and you'd need to ask someone who went through that specific system.

So, first, congrats! You have gotten through the hardest part: you are IN MEDICAL SCHOOL, which is absolutely the choke point for all of this. I know it might not feel like it sometimes, but from here out you are way more in control than you were getting into med school.

As a third year, my main recommendation is to do general pathology rotations (surgical pathology is good, get some clinical pathology experience) and make sure you do a forensic or autopsy rotation, because you'll know really fast if it's really the route you want to go down. It can be a nasty, smelly, intense job. For some people, that's perfect, for others not so much, and you'll only know if you do a rotation. So once you start to get electives, focus in on those things.

This leads us to residency. If you do plenty of pathology rotations, you already have a massive jump on other people who apply and barely have any pathology experience. Having been pretty active in recruitment at my residency, I can tell you that an active interest and good base knowledge of what pathology is goes a long way. Another huge jump you can have on everyone else in trying for residency is to be friendly with everyone (especially techs or others you might talk to, because during your interview you are ALWAYS interviewing). Be interesting and be interested in their program. Know some good knowledge about what they're good at going in. And if you're convinced that FP is the way you want to go, focus on the residencies that have a good FP program attached to them, as it's much easier to get a fellowship if you come from their native program.

I went to a middling medical school and was only a slightly above average student. I certainly wasn't a superstar. My scores were fine. My grades were fine. But scores alone weren't going to help me. What helped was writing a killer personal statement, having REALLY good recommendations from pathologists and forensic pathologists, and being able to put on an outgoing and fun personality. Having an actual personality that is engaging and memorable is somewhat uncommon in pathology, so use what you have.

One of the keys I found in interviewing for a pathology residency was knowing that 90% of US medical school grads get their number 1 choice for residency in pathology (your mileage varies if you're shooting for the big name programs). It's a fairly small pool each year who are going into pathology, so YOUR ranking of residency programs generally matters a lot more than the residency's ranking of you. You are interviewing them just as much as they're interviewing you, so focus on the program that feels best for you. You are going to be in residency for four tough years, so you really want to be in a program that will support you well.

Once you're in residency, as I mentioned, it's a lot easier to get into a fellowship program that's already attached to your residency. I did this, so I can't really speak to the process if you're coming from an outside residency. Fellowship interviewing is somewhat like residency in that almost everyone trying to get an FP fellowship will match somewhere because very few people go into it, and there's an extremely high demand for forensic pathologists (which means you're basically guaranteed a job no matter where you want to go after fellowship! Just pick a location, and chances are good they're hiring), and more fellowship spots than applicants each year. That being said, getting into the top programs (I think the current top 3 are New York, Miami, and New Mexico) can be extremely competitive. Research the program. Make sure the fellows get their numbers, that they don't have to share, and that they get to see a wide variety of deaths.

I think confidence and kindness go a huge distance in getting you into both residency and fellowship. And knowing about pathology in general, having a good number of rotations in it, and being ready and willing to learn is going to get you the rest of the way. And even if you decide FP isn't for you, pathology is a very broad field, and you might suddenly realize you love blood banking or surgical pathology or hemepath or cytopathology or lab management. And your path residency can get you into any of those.

Good luck!

#forensic pathology #advice to medical students in general wanting to get into pathology or forensic pathology #medical school #residency #fellowship #only really works for the US medical system #but hopefully some people find this advice useful!

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slippinmickeys · 11 months

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Madam Scully’s Spiritual Services, Inc. (3/?)

Something about the dead had always intrigued Dana Scully. They had stories to tell, assuredly, but communing with them from the great beyond was not exactly how Dana had imagined having a conversation with those that had passed. The idea of forensic pathology had taken a hold of her in the last six months. The idea that the dead could speak to her – that the evidence they carried around could help solve the mysteries of their endings – be they naturally occurring or not – planted a seed that she could not root out.

Missy knew of her plans to attend medical school, but Dana had not told her what she planned to do with the advanced degree once she had it. Her parents had been brutally murdered, and she was sure that Missy would see the choice to become a forensic pathologist or medical examiner as some kind of bid to solve the mystery of their deaths – a way to hold onto the trauma of their passing. And, she had to admit, maybe there was something to that. Melissa had wanted Dana to let go. And while Dana had moved on, she had not exactly put the past behind her.

She shoved a loose shank of hair away from her face, tucking it securely behind her ear and sighed. She’d been up all night thinking of the man who had come into the shop – Fox Mulder. Despite Melissa’s adamant insistence that the voice Dana had heard had been from beyond the pale of life, she wasn’t entirely convinced. There might be a more rational explanation. And by the time dawn broke, she had decided that she had to at least talk to Fox Mulder about it. He was, after all, the only other person in the room.

She had searched for him, and all her searching had so far been fruitless. She’d checked the white pages, the yellow pages, university directories (she wasn’t sure why, but she’d pegged him as some kind of academic). She’d even tried calling C&P Telephone Company and its new parent company, Bell Atlantic, asking how she might track down a number. All had proven useless, and the later two, snottily unhelpful.

She slid the MCAT study guide back in front of her. There would be other investigative avenues, she just needed to think of them first. In the meantime she would put her head down and study. But the words swirled around the page in front of her, and she couldn’t focus.

Huffing another irritated sigh, she stood from behind the front counter and made her way into the curtained room where they did their various readings. Missy was in the small side office in the back of the building going over their books, and so Dana thought she might take a moment to see if she could maybe hear the voice again. Maybe it was an echo from the restaurant next door, maybe it was…

Once the curtain closed behind her, the room took on a cloistered, insulated feel, the ambient sounds of everyday life muted and dulled. She sat down in the chair reserved for she and Melissa and lit the three candles that sat in the center of the room, closing her eyes.

It wasn’t like she’d never tried this. After her parents had died, in those miserable weeks where she and Missy had had to roll calls with the police, the church, the funeral parlor, relatives, the social security administration, the bank; after they’d had to handle all the various necessary bureaucracies that come with the end of a modern life, Dana had walked into this room in emotional disarray with the thought that she could speak with her parents. That she could maybe say all of the things that were left unsaid between them. That she could listen to them in kind. Her sister ran a business that claimed people could speak with their departed relatives. Her sister believed, actually believed that it was possible. That it was likely. That she herself could hear voices from beyond the grave. Why not try to talk to them in this place that was readily at her disposal? But the room had remained silent. No voices ever spoke to her. Not her parents, nor anyone else. She tried tarot. She tried Ouija. She’d actually tried a goddamn seance. But none of it had borne any fruit. One night, Melissa had come into the room while Dana sat in it, put her arms firmly around her sister and said: “They’re not here, honey.”

The room before her stayed as quiet as it had all those many months ago. If anyone was here to talk, they weren’t saying anything. Finally, after probably fifteen solid minutes of silence, the candles in front of her guttered again and she looked up. Melissa stood holding the curtain open that led to the back rooms and gave her a sympathetic look.

“Any luck?” she asked.

Dana gave an embarrassed chuckle. “No.”

“I think it’s good that you’re trying,” Missy said, moving into the room and running a hand along Dana’s shoulders before lowering herself into the chair across from her. The same chair that Mulder had sat in the night before.

“I think it’s ridiculous that I’m trying.”

“Believe what you will,” Melissa said. “I don’t think the spirits care one way or the other.” The crystal on the choker she wore flashed dully in the candlelight.

Dana sighed, rubbed her face.

“Maybe the spirit is tied to him,” Missy went on, tilting her head to look at Dana kindly. “Maybe he’ll come back.”

“Maybe he will,” Dana said, not really believing it. “And what if he does?”

Missy cocked her head to the side in question.

“Let’s say he comes back. Let’s say the spirit,” Dana gave the word a dismissive, condescending inflection, “comes with him. What then?”

Melissa shrugged. “I don’t know. Something brought him here last night. Maybe it’s on us to find out what it is.”

The irritating thing was, Dana was pretty sure Melissa was right. Otherwise she wouldn’t have spent the last three hours fruitlessly trying to track him down.

Missy leaned out over the table and grabbed Dana’s hand, squeezing it in sympathy. “The answers are there, Dana. You just have to know where to look.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Two weeks later

The night was warm, but not uncomfortably so, the heat wave of the last several weeks having finally dissipated, leaving the residents of Washington DC a little sun scorched, but relieved.

Dana had left the front door to the shop propped open with half a cinder block, the soft sussurus of the cars going by drifting into the doorway along with the smells of carnitas and hot tar, and the flowery scent of the detergent that the cleaners next door used to launder shirts. It was a hazy, dream-like evening, the best kind of summer night, and it took every bit of will power she possessed not to shove aside her studies and go outside to enjoy it.

Missy was in the back with a regular client and the night had been otherwise slow, and Dana watched the sky turn from the easy blue of dusk into the warm pinks and oranges of sunset, the neon signs in their windows humming in contentment.

The sweep of a car’s headlights briefly flashed across the desk and she reached for the green-ish glass bottle of Coke next to her and took a sip through a red and white striped straw. Was there anything better on a warm summer’s night? She thought not.

She was just getting back into gear and focusing on the words in the textbook in front of her, when she felt the heavy presence of someone else in the room with her. Looking up and half expecting to see the hazy outline of a ghost, she was instead met with an even more surprising sight: a full flesh and blood mortal, none other than Fox Mulder.

“Oh!” she said, surprised, raising a hand to press against her chest.

“Sorry,” he immediately apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Your door was open.”

“Yes,” she said, getting her breath back and trying to regulate her heart rate. “It’s um, it’s a really nice night.”

“It is,” he said, rising up on his toes and then lowering himself back down. She half expected him to snap his fingers and swing his arms in front of himself for a clap.

“Can I help you?” she finally spoke when it appeared that he probably wouldn’t.

He shook himself. “Yes,” he said, reaching back into his pocket to pull out his wallet. “It occurred to me a few days ago that I left here without paying, and that’s not exactly a good look for someone in law enforcement.”

“You’re a cop?” Dana said, genuinely surprised.

“A federal agent,” he clarified. “I’m just finishing up my training at Quantico.”

So he was young, Dana thought, probably right out of college. Only a year or two older than her.

“Well copper,” she said, “you do owe me ten bucks.”

Mulder smiled and reached into his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill and handing it over. Dana opened the till and started to make change when Mulder held out a hand. “Keep the change, please,” he said. “It’s the least I can do for running out on you.”

“Okay,” Dana said, sliding the ten she was about to hand him into her pocket. “Thank you.”

Mulder made no move to leave. “I’m… sorry about that, by the way,” he finally said. “I don’t mean to offend, but the whole thing at the end was kind of… weird.”

“No offense taken,” Dana said, sitting up straight. “It was weird, what happened at the end.”

“You mean most customers don’t bolt out the door without paying?”

“As a general rule, no,” she said. “But what I meant was, the thing about the scarf,” he moved on his feet, uncomfortable. “That’s not something that usually happens. I’m sorry if it scared you.”

“It didn’t exactly scare me,” he tried to explain, “but it did… I guess what I want to know is… What exactly did… happen?”

Dana rubbed a tired hand over her eyes and glanced back at the curtained room. With Mulder standing in front of her once again, she was beginning to get that creepy feeling up her neck, and the thought of the reading room kind of wigged her out. “Do you want to go outside and talk?” she asked him, swallowing thickly. “There’s a couple of picnic tables around the back we could sit at.”

“Yeah,” Mulder said, darting his own eyes toward the back room. “That would be nice.” He looked as relieved as she felt.

He stepped out and onto the sidewalk in front of the shop and then stood back to let her lead the way. On her way past the taqueria, she paused for a moment, inspired.

“One second,” she said, holding up a finger, and then darted into the taqueria, emerging less than a minute later holding two frozen paletas. “Okay,” she said, looking at him as she came out the door. “This way.”

He followed her obediently as she turned onto the small sparse grass space next to the parking lot, the ground below their feet mealy with crushed asphalt and broken glass. She hiked her way up to sit on the table part of the picnic table, letting her feet rest on the bench. From where she sat, she could still keep an eye on Madam Scully’s door should a customer show up.

Mulder lowered himself down beside her, mirroring her position. She handed him one of the paletas. “Mango,” she said, peeling open the wrapping to grab the popsicle’s wooden stick.

Mulder raised his eyebrows, but accepted the treat politely, opening the frozen confection and taking an experimental bite. “S’good,” he said. “How’d you know what I’d like?”

“One of the perks of the job,” she said, smiling and sinking her own teeth into the tart delicacy.

He smiled at that and took another bite and they eased into a comfortable silence. The paleta started to melt under her ministrations and a drop of mango juice started running down her wrist. She licked it off, and when she looked up she found Mulder watching her, something sharp behind his eyes.

“So Quantico, huh?” she asked to distract them both.

Mulder looked back down at his own popsicle and took another bite. “Yep,” he said with his mouth full. “I’m going to be a real life FBI agent, ma.”

Scully considered this. “Maybe that’s why it was so hard to track you down.”

Mulder sat up upon hearing this. “You tried to track me down?”

Embarrassed, Scully tucked back into her dessert. “You owed me money, see,” she said nonchalantly.

“Ah,” he said, tipping his head back. “I was wondering if it was…” he trailed off, and Scully found herself desperate to find out what he’d been about to say.

Mulder took the last bite and placed the wooden stick into the wrapping, and threw it in a perfect arc so that it landed squarely in a trash receptacle a few yards away.

“Nothing but net,” Scully said, impressed.

Mulder smiled at her and looked away.

“So I think you might be holding out on me,” he finally said.

She tilted her head in question.

“I think you might be Madam Scully, after all. There’s no other explanation for the thing you said the other day.”

Dana tilted her head down, looked away. “I may be Scully, but I’m certainly no madam,” she said quietly.

“So how did you know about the scarf, Scully ?” he said, emphasizing her name in a playful way. She thought of him as Mulder. It kind of worked.

“I don’t know anything about the scarf,” she said. “What happened in there…” How could she describe it to him? “That’s never happened to me before.”

“So what did happen?” he asked, quite seriously.

“After our reading,” she started, “I heard something.”

“Something?”

“A voice,” she admitted. “Telling me to ask you about the red scarf.”

He stared at her in wonder. “What kind of voice?”

Dana hadn’t really thought about it until he asked. “A girl’s voice. A little girl.”

“So you’re the real thing, huh?” He finally said, more in wonder than anything else. “I never would have… I pulled in for tacos .”

She huffed a rueful laugh. “Then can you explain it to me?”

“You need me to explain it to you?” he asked incredulously. “You’re the fortune teller,” he went on. “And you heard the voice of my dead sister. I was hoping you could explain it to me .”

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #au #wip #psychic au

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plutotimeslot · 11 months

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Things I learned in Forensic Science (off the top of my head)

Rigor Mortis isn't constant. It takes time for the body to stiffen up, the after a few hours it loosens up again.

The temperature of the body slowly lowers. The temp, combined with the stage of Rigor Mortis can give you an estimated time of death.

Some insects can smell dead bodies from about 10 miles (yes I know, wtf) away.

The insects that feed on the dead often have symbiotic relationships. (The bug friends help each other) (They are VERY gross)

Dead bodies decompose faster if 1. The humidity is high and/or 2. The temperature is high. This makes a jungle (or the ocean, I guess) the best place to hide a body.

If you want a foolproof process, the least amount of (the killer's) hairs you want is 30. You can find out who it is from fewer, though. 10 hairs is a realistic number to find and correctly assess.

When my FS teacher invited our local forensic pathologist to the school she gave us a presentation and in it she told us the two highest causes of death related to asphyxiation were 1. Erotic Asphyxiation (The scientific way to say choking kink) and 2. Hanging

You can find a killer though fiber. Fiber includes things like carpet, clothing, towels, cloth gloves, etc. As an example we were told about a person who had been found through the fibers of orange carpet on the deceased's body. The carpet was in the back of the killer's van and the manufacturer was able to give the police a list of all the people in the area who had used the orange carpet in their cars.

People (witnesses) have bad memories. Don't use a witness testimony as a bible. Things witnesses can get wrong include (but is not limited to): hair color, car color, face structure, clothes, street names, license plate numbers, skin tone & skin color, description of stolen items, etc.

Blood Spatter Patterns (yes spatter is the scientific term) can tell you A LOT. The weapon, the killer's height, the dominate hand used, the amount of struggle, and of course if some of the blood is the killer's than you know have DNA evidence. If you decide to become a Blood Spatter Analyst (yes, that is your job title) you will do A LOT of math. Especially geometry.

Usually when an innocent person's response to getting accused of murder is immediate anger. "How DARE you accuse ME of murder? I would NEVER!" A bit cartoonish of an example, but that is usually how it goes.

When someone has a different response you have to ask if it is because they are guilty, they have something to hide (related or unrelated to the current case), or if they are protecting someone. There is also the possibility the person's unusual response is due to their personality, a disability, or neurodivergence. It is up to a (key word) competent detective (or specialty interrogator) to find out why their response is different and if they need to push or if it's just how that person is.

Interrogation rooms are usually well lit, with the seat the person being interrogated sitting in, being close to the door, or at least closer than the interrogator. This is to give the person being interrogated a sense of ease, calm, safety, etc. Depending on the case and the people involved, the interrogation may be more interview style in the detective's office instead. This isn't the best practice, though, since in an office there are lots of distractions for both parties.

A well constructed interrogation room would be well lit, with light cream (not sterile white, that's uncomfortable) walls, and two chairs. The chairs should be fairly comfortable with a desk between them. The person getting interrogated's seat should be close to the door, but not facing away from it. They should have the constant reminder they can leave at any time. There should be some sort of desk or table between the seats, to give more distance (safety) and a place to write or rest your hands.

Both guilty and innocent individuals move their hands and lick their lips quite a lot. There are NO hard and fast rules to body language. It is also (technically) a pseudoscience so it can't really be used in most courts, however, it can be used in questioning or in determining how a individual feels about a topic or person. Someone being uncomfortable talking about a person doesn't mean that doesn't mean they killed them, it could mean they used to be in a relationship or they knew each other for a while. (Again, no hard and fast rules)

Handwriting is not my expertise, but I can add some things. The best handwriting to analyze is private writing someone wasn't expecting someone else to see like a journal or a grocery list. Handwriting, like body language has NO hard and fast rules.

Handwriting analysis is extremely complicated in English alone, but I can tell you that handwriting can give small insights into someone's personality, what they think of their family, their goals, their mental health, and their probability of being a violent criminal (no I'm not kidding)

Criminal Probability Example (Felon's Claw/Felon's Hook):

This is NOT A GUARRENTEE, it's just a weird similarity that SOME killers have. Also some random cashiers and actors???

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bella-caecilia · 1 year

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15 questions & 15 mutuals

Tagged by: @andallthatmishigas @emma-hahn @whydidnttheyaskcora & @cobertaddict <3

Were you named after anyone?

My mother chose my second name after my great-grandmother, Marta. But my other two names are more random I think.

When was the last time you cried?

I don't remember. Probably a few weeks ago when I was frustrated because that's usually the only reason why I'm crying lol

Do you have kids?

No, but I have plenty of nieces and nephews, so there's actually enough lol

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I do. I only realise how much I use it when people that don't know me that well take everything I say seriously...

What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their hair and the way they carry themselves

What's your eye color?

Green-hazel

Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings. I don't really need scary movies

Any special talents?

Special? Don't know about that, but I guess I'm creative and I have good observation skills.

Where were you born?

Berlin, Germany

What are your hobbies?

Writing, reading, fashion & makeup, knitting, walking through parks...

Have any pets?

No, I don't.

What sports do you play/have you played?

None. I did gymnastics and horseback riding for a short while when I was in primary school, but I guess I was always more of an artsy kid than the sporty one lol

How tall are you?

170cm (5' 6)

Favourite subject in school?

Literature. And Philosophy, Latin, Maths... I could never decide

Dream job?

I work on becoming a forensic pathologist and I'd say that's my dream. But of course, becoming an author is also always up there as a more unrealistic dream job.

Tagging: @dreamsalones @ladyccrawleyy @good-now-kiss-me @crawleyfan @abumperprize @levinson-mannion @dream-of-ragtime @downton-bridgerton @nimbuscentaur @ohtobealady @its-because-of-his-lordship @idoloveouradventures @randomabiling @fantasy-fallacy-tumblingstone

#tag game #tagging #thanks for tagging me!

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cotecoyotegrrrl · 10 months

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Once Upon A Time - Still Kind of Beautiful

Not exactly a holiday story - But it is that time year again. For all of you who were, and still are part of the Rookie Blue Golly fandom, I thought I would re-post this in installments the way I had originally meant to post it in 4 parts. I hope you all enjoy this. You can find of this story in its entirety on A03 and FF

Summary:

Sophie is home for the winter holidays after completing her very first semester at McGill University in Montréal. She is pre-med and wants to become a Forensic Pathologist, and Gail couldn't be more proud of her! She also has a new hero, someone who she doesn't realize is also in Gail's past.

Part 1

"MOM!" Sophie's voice whines from the couch in the living room.

She is home for the winter holidays after completing her very first semester at McGill University in Montréal. Gail leans her hips against the kitchen counter and sighs. How time flies, she thinks as she pauses in placing the last of the dishes from dinner into the dishwasher. She smiles and shakes her head as Sophie's impatient voice calls for her again.

"Mom! Come on! This show is so cool and you're going to miss it!" Sophie insists.

"Alright! Alright Kitten, I'll be right there!" Gail laughs, using the pet name she started calling her daughter long before the adoption went through.

The Forgotten Forensic Files is the show that Sophie has been telling Gail about for over a month now. It's her new favorite show in the universe she gushes with enthusiasm, and its about to begin on the History Chanel any minute now!

Sophie is nineteen years old and wants to be a doctor, a forensic pathologist at that. Go figure. She will be the first Peck in seven generations not to be a cop. She is so damn smart! And Gail couldn't be more proud of her. She wants to solve mysteries and cold cases like the doctors on the show. And it is understandable that she says she wants to give the victims of crime a voice. Her birth mother, the mother of her first eight years, had been murdered while she was at school one day, a woman struck down by a stray bullet who Gail found bleeding in the laundry room of their apartment building.

The first few years had been rough, with Sophie living in a group home and suffering from anxiety and depression, and Gail's life riding a rollercoaster of epic proportions both in her career and her personal life. Through out it all though, Gail's unconditional love and support for the girl who became her daughter never waivered. When Sophie was almost eleven, she finally moved in with Gail full time, in to the tiny two-bedroom townhouse Gail managed to rent with her bigger salary from her new position with the human trafficking division of CISI. When Sophie was fifteen the adoption finally went through, and she officially became Gail's daughter. She started calling Gail "Mom" shortly after her sixteenth birthday, much to Gail's delight and surprise.

Gail hears the show's theme music start up and she knows Sophie is waiting anxiously for her to join her on the couch. This is their time. It's time when Gail will snuggle next to Sophie and watch whatever her not so little girl wants. It's time to give her daughter her undivided attention, listening to whatever Sophie wants to tell her during the commercial breaks. It's something they have been doing since the beginning. It's something, like the long drives they used to take, that lets them be close and confide in each other without the emotional pressure of being face to face.

As she rounds the corner, she isn't sure if it's the words or the voice that makes her heart stop and her world come crashing down. This is the last thing in the world she ever expected to see on TV. Thank God she is still behind the couch where Sophie can't see her face, as her blood rushes to her ears and her chest feels like she's been shot.

"Looking at bones like these is like putting together a puzzle." That once oh so familiar voice continues.

Holly.

How long has it been since Gail heard that voice? She doesn't know, but it still has the power to do things to her. She looks up to see Holly, larger than life on the screen, happily rambling away about the pattern of fractures major impact trauma leaves behind when a victim is struck by a vehicle. Dr. Holly Stewart, Senior Forensic Pathologist, Mt. Sinai University, San Francisco, CA, flashes at the bottom of the screen below her. Gail hasn't seen her in a decade, not since Holly left, and God, she's still so beautiful! Knowing that she has to pull herself together, Gail closes her eyes, takes a deep breath through her nose, counts to four, and lets it quietly out through her mouth.

"Come on Mom! This is so cool!" Sophie turns, eyes shining as she exclaims, "And Dr. Stewart, I just love it when she's on! She always explains things in a way that makes sense. She is, is, well she is just so awesome!"

You have no idea… Gail thinks with a sad smile, before joining her daughter on the couch. She can only hope that Sophie is so wrapped up in the show that she won't notice Gail's hands shaking. She braces them on her knees as she sits to steady them.

"Yes," Holly continues, "When I was with the Toronto Police Forensics Department, we had a hit and run case very much like this one…"

The memory of sitting in the morgue on a cold fall day, watching Holly piece Robby Robbins back together the very first day they met, runs over Gail's senses like a freight train.

Sophie is rambling on about how Dr. Stewart is the best in her field. About how Holly has done more cutting edge research to revolutionize the field of crime scene reconstruction and DNA analysis and the determination of the post-mortem interval than anyone else. But Gail already knows this. What she needs is to focus on her daughter.

"Yes," Gail says absently, lost back in time, watching that adorable crooked smile appear like magic on Holly's face as she finishes her thought, "She is pretty awesome…"

Not that she would admit to it, but there isn't a book or article or scrap of paper that Holly has published in the past ten years that Gail hasn't read. In fact, although it sometimes makes her feel like a stalker, Gail has followed Holly's professional life closely, at least on paper.

"Wait!" Suddenly Sophie is clutching at her arm, "Wait! You know her?!"

"I did." Gail concedes with a sigh. "We were friends once."

"So wait, you knew I want to be a Forensic Pathologist, and you never once mentioned that you know Dr. Holly Stewart? She's only the top Forensic scientist in the world!" Sophie demands, "How could you do this to me? I mean I only worship her! Oh Mom! What is she like?"

Oh the irony… Gail thinks as she shrugs and looks at her hands regretfully. "Now she's just somebody that I used to know." She says quietly, "Listen… Why don't you ask your Aunt Traci? I think they may still be in touch." She says, knowing that Holly and Traci have maintained a close friendship over the years, even though she never asks and Traci doesn't talk to her about it.

Before her words are even finished, Sophie has sprung from the couch and run for her phone.

#rookie blue #rookie blue Golly fan fic #Gail and Holly #useless lesbians #gail peck #holly stewart #fan fiction #lgbtq #since you've been gone

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choicesmc · 8 months

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Rams: 2, 16 & 45

And now when I have actually read LoA - Fiona: 3, 25 & 31

thank you <3 It took a while to get 'round to this but!! I think you'll enjoy it :D (loved the questions your picked :0 made me think!!)

from [this] question list

RAMS

2: Do they have any daily rituals?

Not really? Xe has a couple of routines, but not really rituals. Simple stuff like brushing xer teeth, cleaning xer room (whenever it gets far too messy for xer taste).

16: Biggest and smallest long term goal?

“What are you going to major in, love?” Shreya asked, wiping a smudge of lipstick from Rams’ cheek. Zie wiggled in her hold, only serving to smudge the lipstick further. “It’s… not my problem yet,” Rams responded with a cheeky grin, “That’s a problem for sophomore year me.”

Rams is choosing to actively avoid this question right now. In high-school, she wanted to become a Forensic Pathologist and was going to get her degree in Medicine. But now, she’s not sure what she should do…

Short term, though, she’d like to slowly get back into social scenes and school clubs.

45: Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

It depends on who he’s trying to express to. Beckett requires more words than deeds and the same with Aster! Shreya and Griffin prefer actions to words. His default, though, is through words. If he says something, he means it! (Personally, he also prefers words to actions. He likes being told exactly what you want/expect from him or anything else rather than guessing…)

FIONA

3: Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

In the sense of going to a gym? No, absolutely not. However, he does have weekly skate nights! On Thursday’s, he makes all effort to leave early, and tosses on down to a local roller rink for the rest of the night which can easily last hours. (His legs are so sore the next day, but it is so so worth it!)

25: How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

Firstly: nothing past LoA 2 chapter 1 happened (ie. Martin became a senior partner is the only thing that happened) Mostly because I want Fiona to have a love-hate relationship with Martin and also I hated how dumb Reggie and Linda were made to make the plot work 😓

So, right now, Fiona wants to be head of the IP Division. It’s been his main love since graduating college! (He has his degree in pure physics. He’s a little crazy 💖)

31: Most prized possession?

He rubbed the silver cufflinks between his fingers, their sharp edges weathered down by years of rubbing. He stared at the simple message his parents had sent him. ‘Happy Birthday’ it read, plain as day. The timestamp showed they’d sent it barely a minute ago. It was 11:46. Had they forgotten till now? “At least they sent one this year,” Fiona whispered, biting the bottom of his lip. He placed his phone face-down, deciding to reply tomorrow.

Purely sentimental, it’s the last pair of cufflinks he’d received from his parents. They are a pair of silver, summation signs that came with a matching chain. His parents aren’t open-minded nor are they particularly happy about his continuation into law school. Since moving to McGraw Bryne, they haven’t really spoken to him besides the occasional text every other blue moon.

But those cufflinks remind him of when he graduated with his degree. His parents had planned a surprise for him. That weekend, they’d thrown a surprise party for him. It was loud, noisy, packed and Fiona can’t remember ever feeling as loved as he felt that day.

Now, his cufflinks feel more bittersweet than warm, but he can’t bring himself to get rid of them.

#choices #oc/mc #the elementalists #laws of attraction #asks answered

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ncisfranchise-source · 10 months

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Three episodes into NCIS: Sydney, and AFP forensic scientist Bluebird “Blue” Gleeson (Mavournee Hazel) has become a permanent member of the team!

But first, Blue’s planning her own farewell party after taking a call from the forensic scientist she’s been filling in for; sadly, no one bites during her initial request. NCIS Special Agent Michelle Mackey (Olivia Swann) remarks to AFP Sergeant Jim “JD” Dempsey (Todd Lasance) that she loves Blue’s initiative and quirkiness, but her people skills aren’t the best. “This is NCIS, not a refuge for misfits with personality disorders,” she argues, but as JD asks, “You sure about that?” (And let’s be fair: The franchise has shown before that it is a “refuge for misfits.”)

Blue tries to talk to AFP Forensic Pathologist Dr. Roy Penrose (William McInnes) about her farewell party — “You’re leaving?” he asks — and while Mackey, the first time, focuses on the case, she does later tell her she’s impressed and is the one to get on JD’s case as Blue’s packing her stuff: “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

NCIS Special Agent DeShawn Jackson (Sean Sagar) is the one who finally has enough. “I can’t do this anymore. You Aussies, you’re cruel,” he says and wheels out a Welcome Aboard cake for her. “As Supervisory Special Agent of NCIS Sydney, having discussed it with the Indo-Pacific chain of command —” Mackey begins before handing over the NCIS hat. (“With a great cap comes great responsibility,” she says.) The others want Blue to be a permanent team member; JD had left the other forensic scientist a message that the position had been filled. With that, they take a team selfie.

“We had a lot of fun writing that episode, and Blue was so great,” showrunner Morgan O’Neill tells TV Insider. “I’m biased, totally, but I find she’s so watchable on screen, and I love her character from the moment she walks in. But Episode 3 is that classic case of office miscommunication, and she’s not confident enough to actually put her foot down and say, ‘Hey, guys, I’m going away. I know I’m going away. I’m having a party. I’m having to organize it myself. Can you just tell me if you’re coming or not?’ And everyone’s so busy that they don’t really get the chance to explain exactly what has happened, which is that they’ve all decided that she’s amazing and that they want her on the team. They’ve just never got around to talk. And maybe the Australians have had a little bit of fun by not telling her as promptly as they should have.”

He continues that the response he got from someone else who watched the episode was “kind of telling and pretty exciting. They were really moved by the fact that the team had embraced Blue in this way, and they were surprised at how we were able to garner that level of emotional connection from an audience’s perspective in such a short period of time. And that’s a testimony to how great Blue is, but it really made me excited because part of the thrill of this show is that you come for the crime, but you stay for the characters. And if people are already rooting for this team to get together and stay together by the end of Episode 3, then we’re on a good trajectory there.”

Something else worth noting from this episode is that fans should keep the case — the discovery of a severed arm with a US Navy dive computer on it leads them to investigate a group of former Navy divers — in mind. “It’s not entirely wrapped up with a neat bow,” O’Neill notes. “We get the guys that we think have perpetrated the crime, but there seems to be more to it than what we wrap up, and we will work out exactly what the relationship is between the mystery of Episode 1 and the mystery of Episode 3, and then the second half of the first season will kind of bring those two strands together in a way that hopefully is surprising, but should definitely be climactic.”

In the series premiere, a boat was rigged to explode so the guys couldn’t be interrogated, and there was a woman still in the wind. “We will be trying to unpack exactly what happened at the end of Episode 1 across multiple episodes in the first season, and it will actually culminate in the climax to the first season,” O’Neill explained. “It’s an absolutely cracking climax to the first season. And it definitely involves unpacking what happened in that first episode, where that blonde woman ended up, who she is, maybe who she’s working for.”

So keep paying attention to cases: Even ones you don’t realize are connected very well might be!

#ncis sydney #interview

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ambiguouspuzuma · 1 year

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CSI: Transylvania

"DC Tonu? Is everything okay?"

Raluca had fallen to her knees, the blood still aching on her lips. The taste was... heavy, somehow, thick with grief, a thousand droplets condensed into one. She'd sampled many tainted spatters in her time, her tongue dabbed on old wallpaper and wet concrete, but none had ever made her reel quite like this.

Each smear usually carried its own distinct vignette: a flavour of the person to whom it had belonged, a brief summary of their essence, like a cutting from tree. With that came the spice of fear, danger, the adrenaline of those who'd seen their end coming. This was different, or at least more. The blood held an entire catalogue of deaths; an address book to their final destination. It was murder in liquid form.

"I need air," she said. "Is it okay if I step outside for a moment?"

"Sure - no problem." Humans could be weird around her, but they were usually accommodating enough. "Do you need me to... formally invite you outside?"

"I'm good."

It was a clear night, and Raluca was grateful for the cool, fresh air. The evening shift was good for that: she often needed a breather after she worked, to cleanse her palette from the stain of blood, and a moment in the cold and dark helped her to re-centre herself. The department were good about that. The humans who worked nights were mostly open-minded, and grateful for the insights she could usually provide.

They'd created this role for her. Raluca was the only vampire on the force, as far as she knew, and her colleagues valued her particular expertise. She wasn't the first of her kind to get a normal job, for a given value of normal, but most had a level of wealth and education that took them beyond law enforcement: the larger castles were converted to hotels, and those without invested their hoard in bars, clubs, or other businesses. They had to adjust to the modern world, but they chose to remain in the shadows.

Raluca was different. She had always been a pathologist at heart, even growing up, all of those centuries ago - perhaps just waiting for the advent of forensics, or of modern employment at all. It was easier to get a job in today's market, now that the options had expanded beyond 'baron' and 'serf'. This was her vocation, and she was good at it. Not just the tasting, which came with her nature, but the work. Writing it up. Reporting to her bosses. Liaising with stakeholders. That didn't come naturally to a vampire at all, but she'd taken to it and thrived.

The tasting itself was a matter of control. One drop of blood set all of her synapses ablaze, like peering through a pinhole at the sun. It gave her a glimpse of that person's life from the inside, like the view from a wound: its jagged edges distorted, its slick surface shimmering like a hazy summer sky. In one second, she could taste the entirety of their being, read the contents of their soul... and it took everything she had to tear herself away.

All vampires had an affinity to blood, a weakness that they had to learn to fight. The experience was as addictive as it was potent, and it could easily become a compulsion - it was more deadly than any opiate, worse than any artificial high, because the hallucinations that it gave her were real. It was difficult to shake the sense of wearing someone else's skin. Raluca had to find the strength to look away, like learning how to wake up from a dream, before it claimed her life instead.

Not all vampires could do that. In the absence of a coping mechanism, some found themselves avoiding contact with humans entirely, hiding in their towers or the backrooms of their clubs. Then there were the wild ones. Raluca rarely came across them in her work, but only because they left their crime scenes dry, the corpse as bloodless as the room. The incidents were frequent enough, and she heard the horror stories on the news - frenzied, feral attacks, dismembered bodies found completely drained - but the detectives never needed her assistance there. There was nothing left for her to check.

It was the mortal murderers who liked to make a mess. Each subject was unique, to her tastebuds, but none had ever been quite so unique as this - it was as if tonight's victim had been a cocktail specifically prepared for her palette. Or a venom, designed to tear her mind apart. It wasn't something that she'd ever experienced before, and wasn't something she'd be particularly keen to try again.

Raluca headed back in, but pulled her governor aside. "Sorry boss, can I have a word in private?"

"Sure." They stepped around the murder scene, out of sight of the spatter, and into a side room. "What's eating you?"

"It's the victim... I'm pretty sure he's one of us."

"A vampire?" He paused, as if trying to get familiar with the concept. Humans only knew vampires as predators, a warning from the news, a danger that defied most conventional forms of defence. Raluca's colleagues trusted her, but they would never worry about her safety, stepping out to get some fresh air on her own - it wouldn't occur to him to think of her, or her kin, as prey. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly," she told him. "Cross in my heart, and hope to die."

#writing #writeblr #vampire #creative writing #original fiction #short story

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