#easy notes on forensic science

[liketolaugh-writes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Cold Case

Cold Case - a crime that investigators have not legally resolved.

Solving crimes requires clear witnesses, suspects, and evidence; without these factors, cases can become cold.

These cases can baffle police departments and thwart law enforcement agencies like the FBI.

Investigations that go on for more than a year without resolution can have a disastrous effect on the family members of a victim in an unsolved murder, sexual assault, or missing persons case.

Characteristics of Cold Cases

Cold cases are difficult to crack because they inherently involve some element of mystery and the passage of time.

Mystery: Cold cases might include violent crimes, where someone ensures evidence is hard to find, or serial killers who change their location and become a threat to public safety. Unidentified people, who may not have IDs or other easy ways to distinguish them, might also be cold-case perpetrators.

Time: Long periods between new evidence are also characteristic of cold cases. This is especially true of crimes committed years and decades ago that did not have the benefit of advanced technology to more easily identify a sex offender or locate an original suspect. In unsolved homicides and other crimes, victims’ families may request case reviews to check on investigative progress, and the reality is some cold cases are never solved.

Because of systemic inequities, cold cases about the disappearance and murder of white people, particularly white women, receive greater attention and news coverage than crimes against people of color.

Examples of Cold Cases

Detectives can solve cold cases through investigation, sound testimony, and helpful evidence. Consider these examples of unresolved cold cases and solved ones:

The disappearance of Shaun Ritchie: Ritchie disappeared in 2014 at age twenty, and witnesses last saw Ritchie in the Strichen area of Aberdeenshire, Scotland. His family believes someone murdered him over a debt, but the case remains unsolved.

The kidnapping of Tanya Nicole Kach: Eighth-grade student Tanya Nicole Kach went missing for ten years after a school security guard kidnapped her. The guard held her in his second-story bedroom, and she escaped after ten years. The guard, Thomas Hose, then pleaded guilty in 2007.

The murder of Morgan Harrington: Harrington, a twenty-year-old college student at Virginia Tech, disappeared at a Metallica concert in 2009. Police found her murdered six months later. Years later, forensic evidence and CCTV footage identified the culprit as Jesse L. Matthew, Jr., who also murdered University of Virginia student Hannah Graham, in 2014. Matthew pleaded guilty in 2016, closing the case.

Criminal investigations involving homicide, and sexual assault in certain states, are not subject to a statute of limitations and can take as long as necessary.

Cold case squads will seek new evidence (human remains, fingerprints, crime scene eyewitnesses, camera footage) to reopen case files.

Cold case units also rely on forensic science to better understand older cases and original investigations.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[boatshoesdude]

one piece of anti-trans rhetoric that pops up now and again is the "your skeleton is your agab" thing, which for some reason turns into "archeologists will know your agab" (which is a very weird scenario that I don't like to think about for other reasons. Like why my grave specifically? What do they find? Was I helpful to their research? Why does the thought of someone touching my skeleton send shivers up my spine?)

anywho, I'm learning about archaeology atm and thought I'd share some cool archaeological info about actual grave identification!

Number one biggest point of note for this argument that "oh but archaeologists will know" is that if an archaeologist is handeling your bones someone has done something very wrong. A forensic anthropologist is who you're looking for! These are going to be the people trained in all the science/medical stuff and are dealing with humans. Cause there's a big difference between idenifying a sword, and idenitying a person. Two different sects of knowledge that work together, sometimes its the same person, but most times the body will be "handed off" so to speak to the forensic anthropologist while archaeologists work on the physical grave site. this leads to my next grief with the retoric; identifying gender when it comes to graves is mainly guesswork, very educated and very well researched guesswork, but guesswork non the less. When archaeologists are looking to identify the gender, you're looking at the grave itself and its contents (plus historical records and research and yada yada yada). If we know "hey men were typically burried in suits, with watches, dress shoes, and had masculin names" and the grave that's found matches all of the above, then yeah it'll probably be marked as a male skeleton.

you can say "oh but what about height charts and science!?!? The hormones in your body! They'll know!!!" But listen, humans show very very little sexual dymorphism, and humans come in all sizes. It is easy to tell a deer skull's gender because males have rivets where the antlers grow and fall off, where females do not. It is much much harder to tell the difference between a male and female pelvis even though female pelvises (pelvi?) are typically bigger (unless you're trained for body id and have many different factors to aid you). Theres just not enough information to go off of for identification! Humans change in size, yes depending on sex, but also on a million other characteristics like diet, medical history, ethnicity, medication, exercise, so if out of a hundred men, one end up 5'4 with wide hips while the others are 5'10, well them something probably went different with the growth of the 5'4 guy!!! Plus, the standard mesurments used to determin the stature of a person are based on white europeans from historically healthy families, meaning that the measurements are only accurate if you're looking at the body of a white european from a historically healthy family, but that's a side thing that doesn't matter if you have a (mostly) complete skeleton. "But what about the hormones!!!" I hear people in the back screaming. And I have two little things to note for that. 1. Research is really expensive and if you want to justify spending money on identifying the sex of a body you'd better have a really solid research base behind it and 2. Theres so many better things you could learn through bone analysis taht isnt "this person was trans" (unless thats your research topic you do you boo). What does that have to do with hormones you ask? Well bones change with time and as you change, right? So if you take hormes, your skeleton will reflect that. Now its not going to like change your pelvic shape or something, but it will show chages.

Say that a cis woman goes through menopause and then takes hormone supplements for it, that will show change, and change that is important to archeological research. One of the effects caused later in life after menopause is often osteoporosis, the body has a hard time taking in and processing calcium, so it leeches it from the bone, making bones more brittle and prone to breaking. Well, hormone supplements after menopause mitigate osteoporosis, so the bones are stronger, which you can tell from stuff like bone density, to less fractures in the bones in old age. So say you have a city of people you're excavating, and you can tell these people, city-wide, had stronger bones in old age, with less fractures, than most other cities. What this can tell you is that these people had systemic access to medical care that allowed them to live longer, which tell you A LOT about the people that you are looking at and the city they lived in (ya know, the primary reason for archaeological research).

if theres anything take takeway from this post let it be 1. Archeological aren't interested in your agab unless they are specifically looking for it and 2. HAND OFF MY BONES!!!!!

[wandasaura]

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW

summary — cause baby if you’re love is in trouble, there’s no hope for the rest of us; you and amanda take things a step further

warning(s) — budding relationship, mutual feelings, flirting, medical field career, workaholic tendencies, mentions of one night stands, morning sickness, pregnancy symptoms, preeclampsia, and childbirth, single parents, tantrums, kid shit, domestic fluff, pregnancy, asking out, kissing, public affection, amanda’s southern accent

authors note — part two to the grace of southern charm. can be read independently! enjoy :)

Before you'd moved to New York City as a wide-eyed and bushy-tailed teenager, pushing toward a seemingly far off career in the medical field, you'd thought a lot about what your adulthood would look like. You'd never felt like you had all the answers about where life would take you, but that hadn't ever scared you enough to not live your days spontaneously and fully.

You walked the straight and narrow path for the majority of your higher education experience. You didn't attend campus frat parties or sorority mixers, you skipped out on invitations to the club from friends you don't even know how you made your junior year, and you never missed a lecture even when the stomach bug caught up to you — not even senior year when all you had left to take was painfully easy electives that had you desperate for a real academic challenge.

After you'd graduated from Icahn with a 3.9 GPA (only off from perfect by a single .1 because of a technical error your professor had spitefully held against you) , you'd skipped the gap year all of your peers seemed to take and dove right into med school at Weill Cornell, working toward your MD with calculated focus and persistence. You were awarded the paperwork and certificate of honors four years later when you graduated with a perfect GPA and your medical license, but that wasn't enough to state your desires for more because everything you envisioned for your adulthood had panned out, and somehow you'd still felt empty at the time. You had your sky rise apartment, your medical license, a great job at Mercy General in Manhattan, but there was a loneliness in the halls in the middle of the night that you'd thought could be cured with another degree and title. That, and you'd found a real passion for forensics after taking a class with a phenomenal professor that retired the year after you graduated.

So, after you graduated from Weill Cornell Graduate School of Medical Sciences, and had secured a head position amongst the staff at Mercy General, you went back to the bottom of the food chain willingly, deciding to take up a residency in pathology instead of diving straight into what you'd already set up for yourself with the knowledge you had.

That turned into the best decision of your life. You'd thrived in college and in med school, beneath the challenge and the time constraint of balancing classes, coursework, and a full time job, but you'd truly flourished during the length of your residency. And, that year long detour down the road of pathology had led you into a bar downtown on Halloween the day before your Board certification with ABPath, A month  later, you'd been unable to make it into your appointment with the New York licensing due to crippling nausea that eventually dwindled down to nothing. You'd noticed slight changes in your body in the weeks leading up to the first bout of what you'd quickly learned was morning sickness; tender breasts, increased urination, enhanced smell, but you hadn't put the pieces together, in denial that you're reckless and entirely out of character one night stand had led to an entire pregnancy when you were just at the start of your career.

The news had immobilized you for two days, it probably would've kept you bedridden for weeks, but you'd found out on a Friday, and you'd already rescheduled your licensing meeting for that following Monday, so you'd put a time frame on your pity party and weighed over the options you had, which weren't many. In your daydreams as a child, you'd always told yourself that you'd be a mother, and you'd be a damn good one too to make up for all the times nobody had stepped up for you as a child. You wanted it desperately, but you had never considered that it would come so early on in your career, even if you weren't necessarily a spring chicken anymore and a child at your age was perfectly normal and encouraged. You would never get rid of it, not through an abortion, not through an adoption — open or closed. But, it was still a lot to come to terms with when you'd finally begun to feel like you were filling all the empty holes in your life.

You'd gotten to work in the lab for eight months before you were hospitalized with severe preeclampsia, your maternity leave beginning two weeks earlier than you'd been planning much to your dismay. You'd come to terms with the pregnancy, you'd begun to yearn for your daughter and the moment you just got to hold her and know her in the slightest, there was not a single part of you that feared what this would do to your lifestyle, but it still came as no easy pill to swallow to have to give it all up prematurely for something you couldn't control as a Doctor yourself.

You'd made it to term with your baby, your little girl, but that had come with the price of spending three weeks bedridden and tilted at an angle that was ever so slightly increasing or decreasing. It didn't matter, because the moment she was placed on your chest, covered in blood and uterine fluid and vernix, you realized you'd been wrong about every single thing in your life. The job didn't matter. The hours never would've satisfied you. All you needed was her, your little girl that you affectionately named Loretta Louise — Etta Lou most often.

Etta had been your entire world for four years. The sixty hours you worked a week had been very quickly negotiated down to thirty (though you still logged at least 40 hours most weeks because your truly a creature of habit and thankfully Loretta loves daycare), the office you'd dutifully put together and constructed to your perfect liking had been moved into the smallest room in your four bedroom apartment, and almost every surface that you'd once kept meticulous spotless was riddled with some kind of stain, smudge, or thing. But, you think that's changing, expanding, as you explore something you've never had before; what feels like a happy ending.

"No!" Loretta shrieked at the very top of her lungs, little hands balled up into fists at her side as she stomped her feet on the hardwood. She was really letting you know what was on her mind right now, but no matter how red her face got, or how many times she shouted no and batted your hands away from her, you weren't going to be backing down. "No, no, no, no!"

"Yes." You said simply, because arguing with a four-year-old was not something that was going to be happening when you had such a fun day ahead of you. In truth, you'd already argued with her. Twice. You'd thought you'd won both times too, but every time you walked over the bench by the front door, her body went rigid and she fled to the corner like that was going to change her predicament. "We need shoes for the park."

"My rain boots!" She bellows, and if steam could be coming out of her ears, you're certain that she'd be billowing like a freight train in front of you. The pink tutu around her waist does little to dismantle the picture of a devil she's currently portraying, not fooling you for even a second even if it's painfully adorable and not yet stained by dirt or paint that's not as washable as it claims. "I. Want. My. Rain. Boots!" She wails, and you're barely holding it together anymore because at this point, it's been twenty minutes of pterodactyl screaming and getting absolutely nowhere.

"Your rain boots don't fit anymore." You explain, sitting down on the bench and pulling her into your embrace with guiding hands on her sides. She's sniffling and hiccuping like this is the end of the world, but you consider that this might just be the worst moment of her life so far. She's getting to an age where she knows what she likes, where she has favorite books, and comfort movies, and preferences for dipping sauce at diner, and you've always done your best to appease her when it's possible, but now you can't, and she doesn't understand why. Your heart breaks, and while this had always been your dream, even the meltdowns and the drool, you hadn't anticipated it hurting so much to watch someone learn about life. "Your feet got bigger, so you need new ones that are bigger too. We don't have another pair for you right now, Etta Lou."

"But I want them!" She dives head first into your chest, grappling to climb your limbs until you help her out halfway, your hands under her armpits and lifting her into your lap. She fits like a perfect puzzle piece, but somehow you'd thought the same thing in the newborn days. "P-Please?" She hiccups, her little hands wiping the tears from her cheeks as she takes a deep breath, attempting to calm herself down without your guidance. You're doing something right here.

You sigh, because some things just need to be learned the hard way, and crane your body to reach for the blue dinosaur rain boots that have entirely derailed your morning. "They're not going to be comfy." You forewarn her, but she's unaware of the consequences that await her little heels. You almost feel bad for shoving her feet into the plastic shoes, but Loretta doesn't even wince when you have to slap the bottom of your shoe with your palm to get it on over her polkadot socks all the way. Surprisingly, those hadn't been a fight this morning.

"Okay." She shrugs, grinning like a bandit at you when you finish your work on her shoes and set her on her feet by the door. "Let's go now Mommy." She smiles so cheerily you'd have forgotten all about the earlier waterworks if it weren't for the red flush still twinging her cheeks.

"Mommy has to change her shirt. You got boogies all over it." You tell her amusedly, stalking close enough to grab the back of her head before you grab the hem of your t-shirt, wiping it across her cheeks and nose to clear the evidence of her breakdown because it's already in need of a wash and dry, you can't be bothered wasting anymore tissues that you already do in allergy season with a four-year-old.

"But I want to go now!" She whines, and you frown, because none tantrum is excusable for a child her age, but two is entirely out of character.

"Can you tell me what your belly feels like?" You ask instead of losing your temper, because you'd been in her position as a child, and overlooking emotions was not something you were going to incorporate into your dynamic with Loretta.

"Butterflies, Mommy! And they want to go down the slides!" She's practically bouncing on her toes now, her little fingers that are painted baby blue curling into the fabric of her yellow top adorned with rainbows and love hearts. There's purple shorts sticking out from beneath her pink tutu, and you have the momentary thought that maybe you should've insisted on picking her outfit this morning.

"Sometimes it's hard to be patient when we're excited." You hum, and Loretta nods, agreeing with you even if she really cannot conceptualize what you're telling her beyond recognizing the word patient. "Excited is when there's butterflies in your belly and they just want to be all crazy and silly. Are you feeling crazy and silly?" You ask, your hands slotted on your hips, feigning disbelief although you're absolutely certain your downstairs neighbors are one jump away from filing a noise complaint.

"Yes!" Loretta explodes, her arms flailing at her sides as she jumps and twists and spins. Still you act like you're not convinced, craning your head to the side as your finger comes up to tap at your chin dramatically.

"Are you sure? You don't look very silly to me." You sigh, your shoulders shrugging, disappointment clouding your features. The corners of your lips downturn, but only because you're desperately trying to fight a smile as you watch your daughter radiate nothing but light and positivity.

"Look!" Loretta challenges, her fingers pulling at her lips until they're taut, her tongue poking out and her eyes rolling until she'd trained on the tip of her nose. "This is silly!" She tells you, her words slurred and intercepted by her fingers and tongue that refuses to dip back into her mouth to talk correctly. You can't help but laugh, chuckling beneath your breath as you shake your head.

"I'm going to change my shirt and then when I come back, where are we going?" You question, and this time Loretta doesn't dwell on the fact that she's still not getting any closer to the park.

"To see Ms. Amanda 'n Jesse!" She grins with excitement, eagerly anticipating her first play date with Jesse, Amanda's daughter who had very recently turned four, bridging the age gap that had once divided her and Loretta. "And to feed the duckies."

"That's right. So, you stay there, and I'll be back." You tell her, a smile on your lips as you turn and retreat back down the hallway that's scattered with stuffed animals and books.

You've been seeing Amanda for a month now, nothing too serious although you'd very quickly advanced to the talking every day about absolutely anything stage, and this is the next step before either of you would think to make anything official — getting Loretta and Jesse together. You've gone out for coffee a couple of times on your breaks, now that you've accidentally managed to link them after an unfortunate string of deaths you'd eventually classified as accidental drug overdoses, all potentially the same batch of laced heroin, and Amanda had been tied up with one of the victims who you'd reported as being sexually assaulted hours before her death. And you'd asked Mrs. Jefferson two floors down to babysit twice so that you could sneak out to a quiet, kidless dinner with Amanda.

She was probably the sweetest woman you'd ever met, even with the cards life had dealt at her. You'd heard all about her currently (and stably) reformed gambling addiction, her little sister from potentially hell, and the pathetic men that had strung her along and left her stranded and vulnerable like a piece of garbage. You still can't figure out how someone so pure, so genuinely kind it makes your stomach churn, has led a life of pain and betrayal  every corner. How somebody that, sure, has their faults, but is so genuinely forthcoming and genuine has been left behind like she's not an anomaly among men. When she looks at you, it's like the only people in the world that matter are the two of you and your girls, even when they're not around, because up until today, they haven't been around. Amanda's only had the pleasure of encountering Loretta once, and you've never been introduced to Jesse — even when she wakes up in the middle of the night when you're on the phone with Amanda. You just sit quietly on mute until she's done consoling whatever problem woke the child to start.

You never thought you'd meet somebody who cares about your child like she's their own flesh and blood, but Amanda's been concerned and attentive about and regarding Loretta since she'd given you her number in the 16th Precinct's break room. She wants to know about the crafts she comes home with at preschool, and how much of dinner actually ended up in her mouth. She asks about her every day, even when you don't bring her up at all. Seeing her fall in love with Loretta without ever really having a conversation with her might be better than feeling her fall into whatever it is this thing is.

She tells you about Jesse in return, though usually prompted by your asking, because you're very much into knowing who the tiny blonde is just as much as she wants to know Loretta. She's a funny kid. She loves music, hates ravioli, and occasionally beats the crap out of Amanda and calls it 'wrestling'. You hadn't expected anything less. Amanda's the epitome of southern charm if it was a living breathing person, but she's rough around the edges in a way that backs up the years of trauma and backstabbing too, and you know she can hold her own in a fight just by the job she shows up for every day. It's only right that Jesse be just as much a spunky firecracker.

You change into the top that you'd initially picked out for the day's affairs but had talked yourself out of at the last minute. It's a tighter fitting top, with thin straps and a ribbed material that isn't as flimsy. There's nothing special about the day's activities, you know it's a little much to be going to the park in, but the reality is that you have no better time to wear it than right now. It's not dressy enough for any of your after work dates, and you certainly can't wear it to work, but hopefully Loretta's preoccupied with Jesse if things go well, so you won't have to risk any accidental slippage or persistent rising with physical exertion. So again, this truly is the most ideal time to guarantee you wear it at least once this season.

You throw a pair of sneakers in the backpack too, because you know she's not going to want to walk back to the apartment in the rain boots, and she's getting too heavy to carry all the way through the city, before you meet her at the front door, pleased to find that she'd actually remained still for once and hadn't return apart the living room — which was the only fully tidy room in the house anymore.

You're running late, which isn't something that happens often, but you try not to dwell too much on how every minute seems to fly by and simultaneously drop on eternally. One minute you glance down at your watch, and the time hasn't moved, and you're frustrated with the pace of foot traffic on the street because even Loretta's pace seems to be stifled and impaired, and the next five minutes have flown by and the park isn't even in sight.

"Mommy?" Loretta pipes up, swinging your hands as you're both forced to freeze at the corner of the road, the flashing red hand a sign that your daughter takes very seriously much to your dutiful repetition of safety rules.

"Yes, Etta?" You answer, giving her as much of your attention as you can without letting your guard too much in the crowd of people around you. Nobody seems to be paying any attention to your conversation, but you can never be too careful. You'd known that your entire life, but Amanda was making it her mission to remind you at every opportunity. She ends every morning conversation with 'be safe', if you can't meet for coffee on your break, she checks in if you don't get to your phone first, and while she gets home from work later, she goes to sleep before you, and always tells you to make sure all the doors are locked. It's such an easy thing to overlook in your daily movements and routines, but Amanda remembers every day, and you chose to see the simple beauty in that rather than the engraved trauma from her line of work.

"I like strawberry lollipops." She grins like that's the best news ever, and you can't fight your own smile as you nod your head.

"You do like strawberry lollipops." You hum in agreement, sweeping her up onto your hip as you cross the street, feeling particularly claustrophobic in this particularly bustling crowd. Elbows jab your ribs as you pass paused traffic, businessmen and aspiring actors ramming into you without remorse.

"Does Jesse like strawberry lollipops?" She asks considerately, and your smile melts even more if at all possible, not at all reflective of the bubbling annoyance in your stomach when an elbow jabs your rib, narrowly avoiding Etta's little body on your hip; clinging like a monkey even though you have her fully supported without the assistance.

"I don't know, you'll have to ask her." You laugh softly, able to breathe a sigh of relief when you can see the park just ahead, children gathered on every inch of the equipment though that was pretty typical for a Spring day as beautiful as this one. "Do you remember what Ms. Amanda looks like?"

"Yes!" Etta nods brightly, kicking her feet at your sides innocently. "She has blonde hair like Cinderella, and blue eyes like Santa Claus!"

"Santa does have blue eyes, I guess." You're inclined to agree with her synopsis of Amanda's appearance because she's not technically wrong, even if you would've picked somebody else to attribute her light eyes to. Cinderella fits, you'll happily call Rollins your Cinderella any day. "That's her Mommy! Look! Look!" Etta gasps, straining in your arms when her eyes find Amanda in the greenery, sitting on a picnic blanket that you hadn't even thought to bring along.

"It is her! And look, there's Jesse." You point out the little girl that's running laps around Amanda, seemingly laughing if her tilted head is any indication. "Do you want to walk?" You ask, a gentle hand rubbing her back. She's a social butterfly, perhaps at the worst of times, but she's been known to have a shy streak, and you want this to work, so you're pulling out every trick in the book to get her in the best mood possible, even if you think Amanda would be entirely understanding if meltdown number two happened right here and now.

"Walk!" Loretta bubbles, and you set her down on her feet with easy compliance, fixing the strap of her princess backpack over your shoulder when it begins to slip down. She grabs your hand eagerly, leading you over to Amanda with more effort than needed.

"Hi, sorry we're late." You greet the blonde bashfully just as Loretta let's go of your hand, taking it upon herself to join in on Jesse's game of chase the shadow without missing a beat. Both you and Amanda take a minute to pause, almost unsettled by how your kids hadn't even been phased by each other or offered up a name as a greeting. "We had a little moment, but we have shoes on, on we're here." Just by the inflection in your tone Amanda knows that this morning had been eventful, and she smiles brightly.

After four weeks of stolen lunch dates and texting, there wasn't much awkward silence left to have. When you sat down beside Amanda on the blanket, she reached over, pulling you into a hug without hesitation. You sighed contently as your arms looped around her waist in return, your head falling to her shoulder before you detached yourself, glancing at Jesse and Loretta who whirl past you with giggles.

"We only just got here." Amanda brushed off your unnecessary apology. "I got conned into dropping our library books off on the way here."

"I like a punctual girl." You grin, encouraging Jesse's antics much to Amanda's amusement and equal exasperation. Her cheeks flush, and you hope it's the subtle leading in your words that's to blame, not the brightly shining sun. "Mine has rain boots on that are about two sizes too small. I should've thrown them out a week ago when we discovered they didn't fit anymore the first time."

"She pick out her outfit too?" Amanda laughs softly, but there's no ounce of mockery or teasing in her question, just simple admiration for the mind of a child. You nod, unconsciously scotting closer to her. Not enough for your thighs to touch, but it's a start. "Jesse let me pick hers out because it's 'too hard to pick a favorite shirt'."

It takes you a minute to fully recognize that Jesse's wearing denim shorts and a yellow t-shirt, but when your eyes trail to find her and Loretta, it dawns on you that she and Amanda are matching. "Let me guess, you couldn't pick so you went with what you already decided on."

"Guilty." Amanda blushes, and you think that she moved closer this time, or maybe it was you again, but your hands brush, and her pinky dares to link with yours overtop of the picnic blanket that's surprisingly lightweight.

"Hi, Ms. Amanda!" Loretta grins, suddenly barreling into Amanda who hadn't been expecting the sudden impact. She concealed the shock well, a smile pulling at her lips as she wrapped her arms around your daughter, her pinky leaving yours.

"Well hi, Ms. Etta." Amanda giggles, and your daughter swipes a palm across her face, sweat already racing down her cheeks as glimmering droplets.

You search through the backpack you've discarded on the grass, pulling out her water bottle that you've filled with a minimal amount of ice.

"Mama, can we go to the playground?" Jesse asked, coming to a haunting stop in front of you and Amanda. She doesn't so much as glance at you, but you don't take offense, amused with her one track focus as she bounces, eagerly awaiting a response.

"You can, but Etta needs to ask her Mommy." Amanda explained slowly, glancing down at your daughter who had yet to move away from her embrace, cheekily eating up all of the cuddles she was getting from Amanda. You know she gets all the affection she could possibly need from her teachers at daycare, but a part of you feels like a failure for keeping your lives so closed off to interaction. This is probably one of the first times anyone's ever held Etta besides you on the weekend. Even your parents, who you kept in touch with for formalities, hadn't ever made a trip up to the city to see you, or meet their granddaughter.

"Three sips." You counter, and Etta, thankfully, doesn't protest, taking the cup from you appreciatively. She's sucking down more than you can count, which satisfies you immensely, and Amanda's eyes light up.

"Hey, she has the same cup as you. Doesn't she, Jess?" Amanda grins, finding a way to incorporate her daughter, though Jesse hadn't looked all that left out as she looked at the rolling clouds above with a smile.

Jesse's attention snaps down to the cup that Loretta's sucking dry, and while hydration is key, you know she's going to have to pee within the hour and the bathrooms are halfway across the park. That's an entire ordeal and a half just trying to get there, let alone back. "Yes! Mine, Mama! Where's mines?"

"It's in the black bag, baby." Amanda points, and you recognize the opportunity to work on color recognition with the toddler, something you never would've spent a second analyzing up until you had your daughter and suddenly it was your responsibility to make sure this tiny person thrived in all conditions. There's a twang on the last word she utters, and your mind goes fuzzy around the edges as you listen to it.

Amanda's southern accent is your favorite thing about her. Not her eyes, you don't need to have yours open to know that hers are full of stars and warmth anytime she looks at you. Not her smile, even though it lights up your day. It's her accent. It's the way her words twist and curl into each other; sweet and strong, just like her. You could listen to it forever, with your eyes closed or open, it didn't matter so long as it washed over you.

Jesse and Etta fit together like a perfect puzzle piece, the fastest friends you've ever seen made and you're still not certain they've even properly greeted each other after they run off to the metal epitment, their hands locked together and Amanda's instruction to stay together evidently very serious in their minds as they marched and skipped in tandem.

Jesse's taller than your daughter despite being nearly a year younger than her, Loretta's fifth birthday just a couple weeks off your radar now. Amanda's taller than you, not by much, but still enough for it to count when she leans over to hug you before going back to work. You wonder how long it'll take this new baby to catch up with Jesse and Loretta; if you'll even still be around to see that far into Amanda's future with two daughters.

Your hand falls onto her bump instinctively, and Amanda glances to her left with a soft glow on her cheeks as she memorizes you tenderly. She'd asked you if you wanted to feel the baby kicking for the first time two weeks ago. She'd popped, but at the time she'd been only twenty weeks along, now she's pushing twenty-two. She's gotten bigger since then, her belly rounder, her belly button officially popped. You know her feet are swelling more often, she tells you how uncomfortable her shoes are frequently, and her back is almost always in a state of dull aching with the baby growing to over a pound inside of her womb, big enough to start breathing in the womb and tasting flavors through Amanda's amniotic fluid. You wonder if she knows any of that. There's milestones for every day, and you'd been concerned enough to read every book and revisit your old med school notes to assure without a doubt that you were informed at all corners about what to expect.

You don't have to ask anymore to touch her belly, that's a boundary she's waved already, but every time your palm touches her bump she looks surprised. "Did you know that baby's developing her tastebuds right now. She can taste your snacks and your morning half decaf now."

"She likes coffee." Amanda tells you, humming thoughtfully as she takes in the information you've given her. Your eyes search for two yellow shirts, and two shades of blue. Jesse's denim blends right into the sea of jeans and overalls that overcrowd the part, but your blue rain boots are a rarity amongst the full coverage sandals and crocs other children are wearing; Jesse included. You're over by the sandbox, Jesse still holding your hand. "Jesse was always most active in the morning. But this one does flips after my coffee."

"Feels like she's doing flips right now." You giggle when a little foot kicks at Amanda's womb, dragging along the skin of her belly and pressing into the weight of your hand. You miss the sensation of baby kicks, even if they get uncomfortable after the third trimester and every one is a potential accident waiting to happen because your pelvic floor is all out of tune.

"I think she likes your voice." Amanada admits bashfully, and your cheeks flame, but there's a warmth in your belly that's never felt so comforting. "She's been a chill little bean in there all day. She always seems to be throwing herself around in there when you're around."

You smile fondly, your thumb stroking Amanda's bump. It feels easy to sit with her out here, neither of you weighed down or uncomfortable. You fill the silence when you feel so compelled to, but for the better majority of two hours, your girls entertain themselves by the slides and the sandbox, never letting go of the others hands even when Amanda figures it'd be easier to climb the stairs if they weren't wobbling and falling into each other.

It was two and a half hours  and three strawberries later for Amanda later when you noticed Loretta bouncing on her toes by the swings, definitely needing the bathroom though she was too engaged with whatever game she and Jesse were playing to come back and find you.

"Etta's gonna explode pretty soon. I should go rescue her." You hum, though you make no effort to move and Amanda laughs brightly, boldly leaning in to kiss the side of your head. Both of you pause for a minute, wanting to see how the other reacted to this new step, this extended level of vulnerability and affection. When you don't protest, and Amanda doesn't apologize for acting impulsively, you smile shyly, forgetting about the pee-pee dance crisis that's happening feet away.

"Jesse probably needs to go too." Amanda concluded with a single glance down at her watch, and you hummed dutifully, already clamoring to your feet so that she didn't have to.

"I'll take them." You assure her, and Amanda smiles gratefully, watching you walk away, the sun reflecting off of your skin that's not covered by any kind of material. The color looks good on you. It makes you look tan, even if most of your sunny spring days are spent downstairs in the morgue and out of reach of powerful UV.

Taking Jesse and Loretta to the bathroom turns into a half an hour affair. Loretta dillydallies as usual, and Jesse's apparently just as much of a scatterbrain when she wants to be, both of them getting distracted by the water fountain in the bathroom, and then the automatic soap dispenser that you'd almost certain Jesse emptied into her palm when you'd been on your knees untangling purple shorts from pink tulle. But, neither one of them had an accident, hands were washed with only minimal complaints that the water was freezing cold, and you managed to get them back to the blanket with you instead of the jungle gym equipment, pulling out the container of strawberries form your bag that Amanda had already broken into.

Snacks are dished out and so is another round of water. Both you and Amanda packed lunches for your girls, something you knew they would eat, but they both decided to play you like fools and decide they're not hungry for sandwiches, just strawberries and pretzel sticks. You lose the battle, but at least they got some fruit and water  in their bellies before they bolted off again, their faces flush and their palms clammy and coated in dirt and mulch chunks.

Another two hours elapse before you make another bathroom run, this time while Amanada folds up the blanket and packs both of your backpacks that have been emptied by your children. Your bubble wand ends up in Jesse's backpack, Jesse's pink socks end up in your backpack, and their water bottles are effectively mixed up forever by the time you return with a kid on either hip, looking like you've mastered the role of mom of two even if this is your first attempt at seeing if the shoe even fit.

Jesse refused to be carried by Amanda when it came time to leave the slides and swings behind for the day, but your daughter was more than happy to skip down the streets of Manhattan holding onto Amanda's hand whilst you made quiet conversation with Jesse who was finally warming up to your presence. She was soft spoken where your daughter was not, and you could only smile thinking that Amanda's mornings are filled with quiet chattering and pointing. Jesse's pointed out every building on the street, and now she's moved on to asking you about every sign she sees. You read them all dutifully, even if a newly turned four-year-old has no idea what soliciting is nor does she ask.

You'd planned on taking the girls for pizza weeks ago, but you'd been wanting to see how things with with Amanda before you dragged anybody's kid into it. You don't know why you waited so long now as Amanda holds the door open for you and Jesse, Loretta holding open teh second set of doors as she takes on Amanda's shining example.

"Thank you." You kiss her cheek quickly, when little eyes are distracted by the quarter machines in the corner, and walk past her body that's buzzing with warmth. "And thank you, goosebumps." You grin at your daughter, and she beams a proud smile, catapulting herself into yours legs until her arms wrap around your thighs.

"Why don't you go find a good seat and I'll get us some pizza and garlic knots." Amanda addresses Loretta, because Jesse is undoubtedly worn out from the five hours you've spent at the park, and her head is lulling onto your shoulder before she picks it up, realizing that she'd been falling asleep. Etta is on her way to crashing, you know the signs of exhaustion in her now, and this energy that she's pretending to uphold is going to dwindle down to nothing the second you get her confined to the booth.

"Okay! Can Jesse sit by me?!" Her big eyes are looking up at Amanda with nothing but hope, and even if Amanda had wanted to sit by Jesse throughout your shared dinner, you know she's not going to be doing that now. She stands no chance against Loretta. She thinks your kid is the depiction of sunshine, and she's said as much to you over the phone while you relive stories of her first birthday and second easter and last fourth of july when she finally overcame her fear of fireworks.

"If she wants to." Amanda nodded her head, and Loretta smiled wide, evidently not panicked for a second that Jesse would decide against sharing one side of a booth with her. You laughed, taking your daughter's hand, and turning her away, leading both girls toward the booths along the wall. There's only one empty one in the entire establishment, so you let go of Loretta's hand, telling her to go get it.

Jesse squirms to be put down with her, and you happily oblige, your arms more than a little sore from carrying her all the way from the park. It breaks your heart that babies get bigger. That she was once a little six pound newborn that was easy to tote around like an accessory.

They slide into the booth, giggling and looking drowned by the size of the seat. You take the other side, sliding as close to the wall as you can before your eyes glance to where Amanda is still talking to the cashier, pointing to a pie on display beside her.

"My feet hurt Mommy." Loretta whimpers randomly, and you have to applaud that she'd survived in those tiny rain boots far longer than you'd expected her too. You unzip the backpack that you've squished between your body and the wall, pulling out the water cup and the sneakers you'd thankfully thought to throw in. "My light up shoes!" She beams at you like you hadn't shown her these exact shoes this morning and been screamed at profusely in return.

"I want my water." Jesse bubbles quietly at Loretta's side, looking somewhat hesitant to tell you that she wanted something. Amanda still had the backpack on her shoulders, but considering you'd seen them lick the same pole one after the other on the playground, you don't think germs are that big a worry anymore and slide Etta's cup into her hands while your daughter struggles to change her shoes by herself, but god forbid you offer her any assistance. "Thank you!" Jesse chirps, and she eagerly sucks down what's left in the cup, much to your amusement.

Thankfully, Amanda comes back with a large plain pie and a pitcher of lemonade before your daughter can realize her water is gone. She sets it down in the middle of the table, but then she tells you she'll be back, and you laugh when you realize the garlic knots are still sitting on the counter by the register and Loretta's looking at them longingly with two fingers shoved beneath the tongue of her sneaker.

Jesse's asleep on the table when you return with two chocolate chip cookies, and you laugh softly as Amanda shakes her head. Loretta isn't in any better of a condition, swaying side to side as her eyes flutter heavily. You don't know what's happened in the ten minutes it's taken you to throw the garbage out and get the cookies from the cashier, but the inevitable crash you'd been anticipating seems to have struck fully.

Amanda picks Jesse up, settling her weight on the top of her bump. You're slightly envious, but you would rather struggle to keep your four-year-old from slipping than carry her and the water weight of pregnancy and a stuffed full backpack. She's superwoman you're sure, because after so many hours in the sun, she should be exhausted but she's not, she's looking at you with that soft smile again, with a glint in her eyes and a flush on her cheeks. Jesse curled up into her chest and the prominent bump beneath her yellow shirt further softens her appearance, and pieces of your heart twist and pulse.

The air is slightly colder outside now, the sun falling slowly behind the trees, another two hours somehow having elapsed since you stepped inside the familiar pizzeria. It's nearly seven o'clock, and the endless blue you'd seen all day has grown far lighter as it threatens to reveal streaks of pink and orange as the sun plays peekaboo with skyscrapers. Manhattan is still bustling, but it's quiet all around you as Amanda begins to guide the way home, your apartments only three blocks separate.

Loretta is passed out against your shoulder, the strap of your tank top held taught in her fist. The other hand holds her cookie, but there's not a single bite taken out of it and so you turn to Amanda when you get a quiet spot beside an alleyway.

"Will you take that?" You ask softly, because you don't want it to fall and have her wake up and be devastated — if she even remembers — but you also don't have the ability to take it yourself. Amanda smiles, stepping closer. She keeps one hand around Jesse, but uses the other hand to take the cookie for Loretta. Her pinky digs into the side pocket of your shorts where you've folded up the wrapper, and the softest part of her fingertip grazes your side that's exposed from Loretta wrinkling your top.

"Here you go." Amanda whispers, her voice breathy and soft as it floats to you.

You smile, your head dropping, "Thanks." You whisper, turning around so that she can unzip the small pocket of Loretta's backpack and put it away, where Jesse resides too, though neither of you are going to go through the trouble of fishing it out before you go your separate ways. Thankfully, she hadn't been awake to know about the cookie at all.

At some point, you each drop an arm from around your child, your fingers lacing together. Your bicep burns, it aches to be relieved on its current job, but you ignore it for the feeling of Amanda on your skin instead.

It's quiet the farther uptown you get, and when you reach the street corner that divides your path, there's only a few people around to watch her keep you from turning left, her bottom lip bitten nervously. "Jesse had a good time today. I did too." She tells you softly, and you smile, because you and Loretta had a good time too, the best time.

"Well, this one certainly had a blast." You smile, your cheeks flaming. "I did too."

"I know... I know we said that we'd see what happened after the girls met, and we haven't even gotten home yet so this might be a little forward, but would you... would you want to make this official? I mean... or we could at l-least get the girls together more, you know. We're both busy, it's... it'll be so good for them to have each other,"

You would've let her keep rambling, you were intent to when she first started, but the longer she talked the more impatient you got to say yes. "Can I talk?" You giggle, squeezing her fingers between yours, bouncing Etta just slightly when she began to slip.

"What? Oh, yeah." Amanda, if it was possible, seemed to get even redder, her teeth biting down harder on her bottom lip until you considered she was getting close to drawing blood.

"I'd like to make this official. Because if I'm being honest, I've really wanted to kiss you all day." You blush, and the words are like a whisper rolling off of your lips. You're never this forward. The last time you'd been his forward, alcohol had been involved and a month later you'd found out you were expecting a little Leo.

"I've wanted to kiss you since you met me for dinner in that red dress." She admits, and you laugh softly, shaking your head with a bashful radiance to your face."I don't know what I was waiting for."

"How about you stop waiting any more time then?"You suggest, because you can't be the one to make the first move. You can't initiate it, because if it all crashes and burns, you've ruined three people's lives, and she's only ruined two.

Amanda leans in, and you can smell the garlic and lemon on her breath, but it doesn't dissuade you from leaning in too, using the one hand that wasn't supporting Etta to cup her cheek when your lips brushed softly. Everything that you thought you knew about Amanda and these budding feelings were confirmed in an instance, butterflies and fireworks and confetti cannons shooting off somewhere in the distance as you finally got a taste of her.

When she pulled away, it was all too soon, but you appreciated the chance to see her eyes, to witness how they seemed to lighten with unimaginable affection.

"I really should get this one home, but coffee on Monday? Dinner at my place after work?" She asks, and you've never heard a better plan in your life.

"We'll be there." You assure, shifting Loretta once again when she turned in your arms, curling her face into your neck when the ebbing beams of sunlight stroked against her face.

She disappears down the street too soon, but it encourages you to keep trekking toward the skyrise apartment you call home. Etta stirs when you get into the elevator, her head raising off of her shoulders as she rubs her eyes.

"I'm sleepy." She whimpers pitifully, looking up at you with tears glimmering in her eyes.

"I know, goose. We're almost home." You assure, watching the numbers flash on the screen before you get to the second floor from the top, the one your unit is placed on.

There's two apartments in the hallway, yours on one side, and Jennifer Kent on the other. She's a kind enough woman and a quiet neighbor, but your paths haven't crossed much in the years you've been living across the hall from each other. She's coming out when you step off the elevator though, and you smile politely, wondering if this was a coincidence or evidence that Amanda's presence in your life was for the better in all regards.

"We can see Ms. Amanda and Jesse soon?" Loretta yawns when you get inside, letting you pry off her sneakers and her socks before you cart her through the apartment and to her bedroom where past you had thought ahead and already laid out clean pajamas.

"How about Monday after school?" You test the waters, and you're relieved when she grins, perking up just the slightest bit as she bobs her head. "It's bedtime now though. So let's go brush your teeth, and tomorrow you can tell me about how much fun you had with Jesse. Okay?"

"Okay, Mommy."

[sash4esk0]

Rant

Ignore if you want- I just wanted to yap about life lately and maybe use the new png’s I downloaded (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

Superrrr mild TW: Discussion of corpses, smutty fanfic ideas ( don’t worry they have NOTHINGGGG to do w/ one another.)

Kay so— New Caitlyn fic is still in the works. I should have that out soon which I’m excited for b/c I’ve never posted anything 18+ on here before! They usually seem to do much better than the non-sexual fics which is sad but also like… I’m excited! it’s not gonna be a goon kind of fic, more like… quiet intimacy iykwim. Other fic ideas include:

MM w/ cell mate Vi

Some sort of radio host reader x arcane shenanigans

Arcane women ⭐️ consumption heacannons

Apocalypse AU?

Being best-friends w/ Vi during her pitfighter era head cannons

Good news! I got like four pieces into different art shows! Yay for Sasha!! I might’veeee had to intentionally trigger a manic episode to pull a double all nighter so I could work all night and all day for basically two whole days…. ( ._. )""

Yeah… that probably wasn’t the healthiest choice but fuck it! I’m 19 and I got in!! So tonight I’m working on fic’s and doing self care to recoup. Might make some nachos too, yum.

OH CRAZY THING HAPPENED

Girl I’ve been crushing hard on for like two years is a forensics student, right? So they get to study like actual bodies and stuff which is badass. BUT. I was on instagram and ON HER STORY SHE POSTED PHOTOS OF ONE OF THE CADAVERS( bodies donated to science). LIKE REALLY FUCKING DISRESPECTFUL .5’S LIKE IT WAS SOMETHING FUNNY. It was an immediate turn off cause that was totally unlike her and I THOUGHT we were super similar, but that absolutely violates my morals and I WILL NOT give any sort of praise or energy to someone who thinks it’s okay to do that. The first week or so after finding out was hard I’ll admit. Seeing her around and getting all giddy and blushy before remembering what a terrible, literally psychotic thing she did and feeling so so so shitty. I’ve been trying my best to move on which actually has been going kind of okay. Distance and distractions help a lot. But yeah- that’s partly why i haven’t posted in a smidge.

lol and like three dudes have asked me out even though I’m a fairly masc presenting open lesbian… yeah….

But on a more positive note! I’ve finally figured out how to make cutesy banners and stuff! I changed my aesthetic a teensy bit too, I hope we like it!1

Anywho- that’s all for today’s little rant, I hope whoever’s reading this has an absolutely amazing evening! And please remember to take care of yourself! Drink some water if you haven’t today and take it easy! (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) 🖤

[slippinmickeys]

Okay. Need a little ficlet bringing back Agent Henderson, the thirsty lab lady from Young At Heart.

Marcia Henderson – first in her class, two-time winner of the Boch & Stephens Award for outstanding contributions to forensic handwriting science, and thrice-divorced Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation – was determined to push the limits of her profession. And, probably, was just a teensy bit bored.

She’d had cause to see and work with Special Agent Fox Mulder a lot more when he had been with Violent Crimes; Sasquatch, she figured, being a less practiced penman than the vicious hooligans scratching out ransom notes they had once tracked down together, but she saw him in the halls of Quantico or the Hoover Building every now and then, and damned if the man didn’t get better looking every year.

He had, at one point, agreed to go out with her, but that had been years and three partners ago, and she wasn’t about to hold him to it when when they had both probably changed immensely from the bright-eyed agents they’d been back then, in their late-twenties and fresh out of the academy.

And change – well, that was what she was interested in – if she could track the changes to a person’s personality through their handwriting - Mulder’s specifically. Graphology itself was looked down on by her peers, who considered the practice – analysis to evaluate personality traits – to be charlatanesque in comparison with the science-based and peer-reviewed forensic handwriting that they lauded themselves for – but Henderson had seen some shit in her years with the Bureau, and she wasn’t one to count out the occasional wild idea. One look through a few X-Files would rapidly strip you of your tendency to do so in the first place.

She was at the top of her game and she didn’t have a case – why the hell not, she thought.

It had been easy enough to get the samples. She had a copy of the last case they’d worked together; Barnett of the salamander hand and the backward aging – wild fucking case, that one. A newer case file had been slightly more difficult to get her hands on, but Holly up on the fourth floor worked in records and was a friend and had sent her the file via interoffice mail; a doozy involving a giant hallucinogenic fungi that fed on the flesh of unsuspecting hikers. And, it appeared, Special Agents of the FBI.

The first thing she pulled was the car rental requisition form from the old case, which had both agent’s signatures, and slid them under the microscope. First Mulder’s signature, and then, just out of curiosity, Scully’s. Her eyes rove over the individual letters, cataloging the slants; the broad strokes, the slender; the height and widths of loops, stems and baselines. From what she knew of Mulder back then, what she saw all tracked; physical frustration in the “M,” high self-esteem in the cross of the “F.” She didn’t know Scully well, then or now, but the “Y” of her last name pegged her as someone slow to trust and socially selective. Interesting.

Then Henderson pulled a page from the newer case – this a handwritten account – most likely written from the hospital bed, as she could see right away that it had been written while in a prone position – of the events that led up to the agents’ hospitalization and the case of the missing North Carolina hikers. And what a comparison!

Henderson swore under her breath.

“Change” wasn’t the right word for what had happened to these people according to their own handwriting. They’d transformed. Gone was the doubt in Scully, the resistance to change Henderson saw in the swoops, replaced by subtle variations indicating a quantum shift in the woman’s outlook and demeanor. And her “Y’s” and “G’s,” Henderson practically had to start fanning herself. The newly attained long wide lower loops that extended deeply into the lower zone using heavy pen pressure practically shouted her relatively newfound physical drives that were now strong and deep, speaking to a renewed sexual energy and imagination.

And then there was Mulder, good Christ. As awoken a beast as his own partner.

And if their pencraft didn’t speak to whom their newfound lustiness was aimed, the words of their reports certainly did. Mulder’s particularly. The man was in love. It was as obvious in the words that he wrote in the report as it was in his handwriting.

Henderson actually took a look over her shoulder as she was reading between the lines of the case file in front of her, secondhand embarrassment looming large. Dear God, did their superiors see what she did? The water cooler rumor mill certainly did, but that was true of any and all of the male-female agent pairings regardless of whether or not there was any truth behind the gossip.

She suddenly felt like a voyeur, and with only a moment’s hesitation, she pulled the papers out from under her microscope and slid them back into the file, sealing both into the interoffice envelope that Holly had sent down with a couple of quick twirls of red string.

Flushed, she stood and walked out of the lab at a clip, heading straight for the elevator bank.

Holly seemed surprised when she looked up and found her friend standing there, and she took the large manila envelope Henderson was holding out with a concerned expression.

“Marcia,” she said. “That was quick. Did I send the wrong one?”

Henderson shook her head, feeling a sense of relief when the other agent took the files out of her hands. “No,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just changed my mind. I got a new case that just came in. Won’t have time for extracurriculars.”

“Ah,” said Holly, appeased.

“Coffee date on Friday?” Henderson asked her friend, who quickly and happily accepted.

Business complete, Henderson walked out of the office and over to the elevator bank, surprised when the doors opened just as she was about to push the call button. Before she could step in, out stepped the two people that had roused such a reaction in her not ten minutes before, heads inclined towards one another, no one else existing outside their little microcosm of two.

She opened her mouth to greet them but thought better of it, stepped on the newly empty elevator and pressed the button for her floor. Perhaps, she thought, she should stick to forensics after all.

[readwithem]

Forensic science is something i'm very interested in. Forensics, Sherlock Holmes, criminal psychology and historical drama is an enticing combination.

Didn't watch the show. Don't plan to.

The writing is easy to read and the pace is not too slow. However, since the advent of contemporary thrillers, i didn't get mindblown with this one. Everything is predictable and nothing is original. But i guess, it had felt original back when it was published.

I don't necessarly recommend it, unless you have nothing to read.

Side note: Roosevelt was my favorite character. He was a peculiar addition to the story that made things light and fun.

[vanesa]

Books I've Read So Far This Year (July 2024)

1. Heir to the Empire (Timothy Zahn) 2. Dark Force Rising (Timothy Zahn) 3. The Last Command (Timothy Zahn)

These are my Star Wars friends' favourite books and I was a pretty big fan of the Original Trilogy, so I wanted to dip my toes in the Star Wars Legends universe.

These books are incredibly fun. Zahn writes books as if they were movies. There is a lot of action and dialogue. He captures the original Star Wars characters perfectly and his original characters are interesting and incredibly memorable.

Aside from having difficulty following the specific sci-fi descriptions of the fighting, these are relatively easy to read. Even then, you only need a small amount of understanding because characters will deconstruct certain brilliant maneuvers right afterward for you.

4. How Not to Be Wrong (Jordan Ellenberg)

I love books that explain mathematical concepts and why they apply in the 'real world'. I really dislike it when people act as if math is useless. I think anyone can find an appreciation for math, even if they're not 'good' at it.

Ellenberg does a great job of explaining math and how brilliant it is and how extending math into higher level concepts still applies to the real world, as well as acknowledging that there are higher-level mathematics that are harder to grasp or have little use in the real world. He attempts to find the interesting but doesn't require a PhD in math intersection for his book.

However, the political references, of which this book has plenty, really dates this book.

I posted here some quotes I liked from How Not To Be Wrong.

5. Math on Trial: How Numbers Get Used and Abused in the Courtroom (Leila Schneps & Coralie Colmez)

Math on Trial was referenced in How Not to Be Wrong and it was an intersection of two of my favourite fields: mathematics and forensic science.

The concepts are well-explained and you don't have to be a mathematician to understand them. The math is meant to be used to apply to the common juror, after all.

A lot of the math is related to improperly applying probabilities and statistics.

I posted here about Math on Trial.

6. Amusing Ourselves to Death (Neil Postman)

While this book was originally written about television, I think it also applies to the video format to deliver information as a whole.

Postman does an incredible job of developing his thesis that the video format is inherently entertaining and conveying information via an entertaining medium allows for irrelevant information to be included in your intake of information, and that books are the superior form of information medium.

He says we don't live in the world of 1984, our dystopia is closer to Brave New World. (Brave New World is one of my favourite books.)

He articulates the problem well but he offers a few solutions and admits that it's difficult to implement them.

I think this book was incredibly relevant back in 1985 when it was first published and is still relevant today. Many references are obviously dated but I can see why this is a cornerstone of every media literary analysis class.

7. Death Note: Side Story: The Loss Angeles BB Murder Cases

If you love Naomi from Death Note, I highly recommend reading this.

As serious and graphic as this is, there are a lot of moments that made me laugh out loud. The spirit of Death Note is here, including the humorous moments.

I think the localization is a little bit awkward, but that tends to be any translation of Japanese novels like this.

I also recommend the Death Note: Short Stories collection if you love Death Note.

8. Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed for Men (Caroline Criado Perez)

This book was an incredible conversation starter and has so many points to jump on to do more research on. It's basically a must-read for any feminist.

It is more difficult to read this book on a physical medium since many of the sources are online.

I like how grim and yet hopeful the author stays. The author describes many successful projects in which incorporating women not only improved it for women, but for everyone as a whole.

I was very angry reading this book, and I had to read it very, very slowly. I took a year and a half to get through it, with breaks.

Because it is a book about incomplete research, there are many gaps in knowledge, which all the author can do is point out and guess based on gaps we have attempted to fill. But we will inherently be missing more gaps, because we don't know what we don't know. It is inherently frustrating.

9. You Are Now Less Dumb: How to Conquer Mob Mentality, How to Buy Happiness, and All the Other Ways to Outsmart Yourself (David McRaney)

I was a huge fan of You Are Not So Smart the blog and then the book, so I made sure to take out its sequel, too.

It is inherently a self-help book. Psychological biases are described with examples and the research behind it, and then suggestions are given to help you.

It is also very hopeful. It makes a point of repeating that a lot of these biases don't make you dumb, they are evolutionary mechanisms that were used to protect you and help you thrive, and a little bit of self-delusion is necessary. It never admonishes you for your brain - it tells you exactly what your brain tends to do and how to overcome it.

As far as pop psychology books go, I think this is one of the better ones.

10. Outbound Flight (Timothy Zahn)

As a huge fan of Thrawn and Timothy Zahn's writing, I had to read this book, and it doesn't disappoint.

Zahn does an incredible job with characters, including Obi-wan and Anakin.

If you love Thrawn, you need to read this book. It's very important and shows how his unconventional thinking (even for a Chiss) and good intentions push him further on a more ruthless path.

11. Dune (Frank Herbert)

I had several friends pressuring me for years to read Dune and I finally caved in.

I am a huge fan of Herbert's worldbuilding the most. I was enthralled with all of the ecology of Arrakis. I love the terraforming aspects. I love reading about all the adaptations of the Fremen. Herbert researched 6 years for this book, or so I've heard, and it shows.

However, you really do need the glossary and appendices. I wrote down relationship maps and my own glossary to help me follow along.

I liked how the quotes by Princess Irulan at the start of each chapter gives you the same experience of Paul's prescient vision - knowing what is going to happen while watching things happen.

There is so much to like about the books that others have said already. It's good. It's just really good sci-fi with great political themes. Read it.

12. We (Yevgeny Zamyatin)

I am a huge fan of satire dystopian novels and this is one of the grandfathers of them. Zamyatin was also inspired a lot by H.G. Wells, which I love.

I love the math metaphors and the translation is incredibly beautiful. The imagery is so poignant.

D-503's whimsical writing is funny and adds a huge contrast to the otherwise deeply unsettling society.

This feels like required reading for anyone who's a fan of dystopian novels.

[discoveryforensics]

Importance Of Using Digital Forensics in Jonesboro and Atlanta, GA

Technology rules! No company can operate effectively without using a digital device or service. The ease of doing tasks invites people hoping to make a quick buck too. Unfortunately, there are many technological professionals engaged in fraudulent activities. It is indeed difficult for a layperson to uncover the cybercrime trail and have such an individual or firm arrested by law enforcement. All is not lost, however. It is essential for every company using technology for business operations to utilize computer forensics in Jonesboro and Atlanta, GA, as and when required. ​ This may be a new branch of forensic science, but the process is almost the same as traditional investigation. The only difference is the use of a computer or technology that could follow the path the offender had taken for committing the fraudulent act. It requires specific skills and innovative reasoning. Local law enforcement officers frequently connect with private entities when a particular offense is believed to be digital.

Being able to use computer applications does not qualify one to become a forensic expert either. On the contrary, such a position involves specialized skills and a curious nature apart from being highly experienced in handling technological tasks. Some of the things that an investigator gains by using the services of a computer forensic expert include the following:-

· Analysis- Sadly, criminals can access the most advanced devices that run on technology today. The forensic expert hired to gather evidence does so by studying the device(s) used and will also analyze the data. This makes the information obtained from the devices fit to be presented in a court of law. Such analysis helps the investigation agency identify the offender(s) correctly and track their unlawful activity, making it easy to prosecute them.

· Identification- Law enforcement officers can use the information analyzed and provided to identify the offenders without any mistakes. Proper interpretation of the data always gives the criminals away. The digital footprints cannot be removed when an offender has no time.

· Data Recovery- True, a criminal may painstakingly erase the information from a computer or any digital device. Throwing away the smartphone and smashing the devices have been tried by many offenders in the past. Thankfully, hiding information is not easy when technology can be used to recover lost or masked information. Moreover, the experts have the know-how and possess special software that helps them recover lost data successfully.

Digital forensics in Jonesboro and Atlanta, GA, can also be used to prevent crimes in the future. The process of crimes becomes apparent to the experts and is passed on to the traditional investigative team. The law enforcement authorities note the facts, quickly discover the offender and recreate the crime when a similar case occurs. The investigative team can also strategize more effectively once digital information is shared.

[forensicfield]

FORENSIC SCIENCE E-BOOK ON UNIT-VII OF SYLLABUS OF NET/JRF

This e-book contains brief notes on Hair & fiber, pollens, diatoms, soil, cement, paint, glass, computer & mobile forensics according to the syllabus of forensic science NET/JRF.

Read Now

---

(more…)

[intrepidacious]

97 with Ran, if you'd please 😌💕

occupy my brain

pairing: ransom drysdale x f!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: ransom being his usual self should be warning enough. implied smut. please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: 97. passionately making-out against a wall

a/n: i'm not gonna lie, posting this kind of hurts for obvious reasons but i don't want to sit on the prompt forever either because it's simply too good for that. this is the part one of come on down that i was talking about.

Death had always been a passion of yours, but you’d never fantasized about it quite as vividly as you had over the past couple of weeks.

One might have thought it came with the profession, but no.

It felt truly unfair that the texts you were studying told you exactly what poisons were most likely undetectable in the average blood test, how they were to be administered, how long your victim would suffer before his inevitable demise, eyes bulging as he struggled to take another labored breath …

Instead, he let out another annoyed sigh and you rolled your eyes.

You’d been going down rabbit hole after rabbit hole for the better part of the evening and he hadn’t even opened his damn laptop.

When you first got the job as Harlan Thrombey’s research assistant, you’d been ecstatic. You’d applied for it without ever expecting a call back—after all, he was one of the most prolific writers of crime fiction alive while you barely made it into your grad program. Sure, knowledge of forensic science was somewhat of a prerequisite to any self-respecting mystery writer, but still. You were sure there were hundreds of fretting English majors begging for the opportunity, and in the end, it fell to you.

Of course, your excitement was soon to be nipped in the bud when you met the other research assistant, who you would be working closely with over the entirety of the summer: Harlan’s very own grandson, Ransom Drysdale.

In the beginning, you tried. You really tried. But there was nothing to be done.

He was an asshole who seemed to be under the assumption that if he pressed just the right buttons, all the actual work would get done by you and simply fall into his lap at the end of the day; just the way it’d probably been all his life.

And because the first couple of times, you were playing nice and letting him get away with it, you were now stuck in this nightmare of a position. Sat on the couch in his large and strangely empty living room on a Friday night, daydreaming about extremely potent poisons.

Ransom sighed loudly again and your eyes snapped to him. He was still draped across his armchair, feet dangling off the armrest, an extremely bored expression on his stupidly handsome face.

The fact that, despite his horrible attitude, his features still had that effect on you made your blood boil even more.

"You know, if you actually did the work we agreed on, you probably wouldn’t have to sigh every five seconds," you said sharply.

An easy smirk appeared on his lips. "How else am I gonna get your attention?"

"How about by being less of a pain in my ass?"

Ransom’s eyes dipped down for a moment, only to return to yours with an amused glimmer you didn’t care for. His grin widened. "Where’s the fun in that?"

"This isn’t about fun, Ransom. This is my job. You know what that means?" Poisons and choking. "It means that certain things are expected of you."

He didn’t look particularly impressed. "Like what?"

"Like, I don’t know, research? Doing what’s asked of you instead of just being a prick?"

He snorted. "There’s just so many better ways we could spend our time," he drawled, in a tone that you could dissect all too easily.

Unbelievable.

"Keep dreaming," you muttered through clenched teeth, ignoring the way your heart twisted.

He was an asshole. You dealt with enough of those in your labs, and you made a point of not delegating any more brainpower to their presence than was necessary to get through long evenings. It was as easy as that.

Then again, none of the lab guys were quite this infuriating.

Ransom’s gaze had started wandering again, slower this time, more deliberate. You could feel a tingle go down your spine.

"We’ll see," he finally said, his voice very low.

You had to leave.

You slammed your laptop shut with a lot more force than necessary.

"You know what?" You grabbed your bag off the floor resolutely. "It’s late and I still have a lot of stuff to get done before I talk to your grandfather tomorrow, and you’re no help at all, so I’ll just get going."

He shook his head, the self-satisfied grin still not budging; for some reason, that only bugged you more. You were already half-way to the door when you heard him murmur, "Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine."

And that was it.

Your bag dropped to the floor with a resolute thunk as you turned to glare at him. "You know what, Drysdale? I don’t know why I bother with you anymore. I should just tell Harlan that you’re a slacker."

Something flickered in Ransom’s eyes, but it vanished almost as instantly as it came. "He already thinks that anyway," he said dryly, finally getting out of his damn chair to face you. "And you wouldn’t."

"Why wouldn’t I?"

"Because …" he said, taking a measured step closer. "Then you wouldn’t have an excuse to come to my doorstep anymore."

A slightly manic laugh bubbled up in your chest, jumbling your heartbeat on its way up. "Are you kidding me? I would love to never have to see you again."

Ransom tilted his head. "You’re a terrible liar." He took another step.

"What are you doing?"

You wanted to move backwards, away from him, but your feet seemed to be firmly rooted to the ground. He was close enough to touch now, and you balled your hands into fists.

Of course, he noticed. His grin morphed into something almost wicked.

"How long," he said, his voice even lower now, "are you gonna keep pretending there’s nothing between us?"

You couldn’t breathe. Otherwise, you might’ve smelled the cologne on his shirt and any last coherent thought would’ve left your body. You already found it impossible to look away from his eyes.

"There’s no us here," you said.

"Maybe you should leave, then," he answered, sounding despicably level-headed. "You know where the door is."

"I am."

Neither of you moved. The amused spark in his eye felt close enough to ignite something.

"Or," he continued, the distance between you small enough to count the freckles next to his eye, "you could stay. And we’ll see."

"Shut up," you snapped, but there was no conviction behind it. Your head was hammering.

"Or what?" he said smugly. "You’re gonna call me a prick again?"

He was too close.

"I said, shut up!"

"Make me."

It caught you off guard, that’s what it was.

You’re not sure what happened next, only that your shoulders were suddenly crashing against the wall and Ransom’s mouth was on yours, hungry, unforgiving, all-consuming.

And for some reason, instead of pushing him away, your fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him closer, tugging on the dark strands until he groaned hoarsely against your lips. His hands were large on your waist, on your neck. Slowly, his knee wedged between your thighs, pulling you closer onto him until your hips started moving on their own accord.

He kissed you like he had something to prove, and fuck; maybe he had a point. You weren’t sure. You’d stopped thinking.

Ransom Drysdale was deadlier than any poison; and much more addictive.

thank you for reading 💛 if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications—and yes, there will be another part to this. eventually.

[make-your-own-evil]

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

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

A group of bunnies is scientifically called a fluffle

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

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

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

Riddlers w/ a GameDeveloper!S/O

BTAS!Riddler:

youre a game dev?! he is too!

....or rather he was.

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

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

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

that game belongs to the both of you now, sorry

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

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

Arkham!Riddler:

what would you like to know?

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

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

he ends up helping you in his free time ❤

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

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

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

Dano!Riddler:

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

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

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

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

he will be the first one to play your game!

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

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

Capullo!Riddler:

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

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

he is right there with you in developing your game

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

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

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

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

he calls the game "our baby" 😊

[nadirofamountainforest]

Life in the Future

Accepting aromanticism and asexuality was very easy. It took very little time to accept these as part of my identity, and there were no reluctance or hesitation when I arrived at this point. It was because these words really resonated with me, embodied my unconscious that I did not even notice when I was a child.

But what comes after acceptance? What comes after the euphoria and relief and liberation and satisfaction? What will life become now, when it cannot follow the linear path society suggests - dating, marriage, sex, children, and a lifelong companionship?

~

I think what led me to accept my aromanticism and asexuality faster was that deep down, I felt that life without marriage and children and other things was what has always felt comfortable.

So when I started to think about what my life will be like in the future now that I know I do not like forming romantic or sexual relationships, I started to look forward to that day. I just planned what I wanted to do.

When I go to college, I'll find a boarding house to live in. I don't like heavy, sweet, and greasy foods in the morning so I'll eat bread with cheese fillings for the most part. I'll buy a good notebook with black designs and a friction pen to write notes in Psychology with. If that's too laborious for me, I'd type on my laptop or write on my tablet with a stylus. Maybe I'd have friends or maybe I won't, but I'll hang out in the library or at a cafe with danmei music blasting in my earphones to do my work, while eating cake or drinking milk tea.

I'll read some good novels and webtoons on my freetime. Finally buy their merch. Finally learn Chinese and Korean to read time (lmao can I??). Make some online friends to geek out about these masterpieces.

Download MMORPG and RPG games again. Create a strong and OP character. Maybe experience the pay2win life. Finally try out Mobile Legends, COD, etc.

At night, I'd like to cook for myself: adobong kangkong, fried tofu with pork and eggplant or any egg dish. Maybe try noodles, and some Korean or Chinese cuisine that I can search up some recipes on TikTok. I'd try baking cake and making pizza.

With the time I have left, I'll learn so many things I have always wanted to learn. Kickboxing, knitting, crochet, violin, harp, dancing, singing. Maybe join an organization to learn about people from different professions: former spies, forensic science, marine biology, astrophysics, artificial intelligence, radiation biology, professional hugging, activists, etc.

I'll volunteer in an orphanage and help the community there. Visit every two weeks. Also join a queer support group. Visit my parent once every month and spoil the heck out of them with gifts.

Maybe I'll get a qpp or a close friend who lives next door that I'll hang out with or maybe I don't. I'll get a cat or a dog if they ever choose me and spoil the heck out of them as well. Cuddle them to naps. Take them for walks or travel around the neighborhood with them on a bike. Record videos of them that will be saved on a cloud.

The house will be full of pet supplies but it will be clean. Dreamcatchers and suncatchers will be put next to the windows. For added effect, the windows will have film on them. The portraits on the wall and next to the writing desks will be merchandise or role models. And then, I'll write to my hearts content.

The food I eat, the clothes I'll wear, the games I'd play, the literature I'll read, the house I'd decorate, the profession I'd have, the things I'd learn, the cause I'd fight for, the things I'll hate and like, and the things that I'll cherish. This is the best life.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Either that or I'll just return to the void xx ☠️

[terramythos]

A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Reading Notes

Full Review Here!

-while I am going into these mostly blind (literally my max exposure to Sherlock Holmes is some of the show Elementary and the Guy Ritchie films) this specific story is a little spoiled for me. Oh well -there is licherally no publication year on my copy lmao What (1887, thanks Google) Part 1 (ooo a two parter- scandalous) Chapter 1 - Mr. Sherlock Holmes -ill be real I have like no context for the afghan war except Classic British Colonialism part six billion or whatever -"the great wilderness of London" lmfao -I feel like I vaguely knew Watson was an honest to God doctor but its still surprising considering what I know of other adaptations -shout out to Holmes inventing a fictional(?) version of luminol? Which apparently was discovered early 20th century, lol. -too bad forensic evidence is still so sketchy a century and a half later, Holmes -BOY I WISH THE POLICE WERE A THING OF THE PAST, BRO. -Holmes meets Watson for the first time and almost immediately stabs himself in the finger to prove a point. The serve Chapter 2 - The Science of Deduction -"haha no way is he addicted to narcotics" oh my sweet summer child -watson: I swear I'm only super fascinated by Mr Holmes because my health sucks and I'd be bored otherwise that's it I swear. -ooh I like the observation that Holmes is basically self taught and ignorant of a lot of things people take for granted. I don't think I've gotten that impression about the character before -i mean it's impossible now not to know Holmes is a detective, but since this was the first story, I have to wonder if some original readers really didn't know going in. If so this bit would be fun because based on the character study and Watson's list of Holmes' knowledge you can figure it out yourself. -watson: man this writer is full of shit, what a moron Holmes: me? :) God that's funny -the unintentional prophecy of Holmes wanting to "make my name famous". God lmfao Chapter 3 - The Lauriston Gardens Mystery -oh hey the actual crime mystery is here -rip random American dude I guess? -goddamn that setting description really digs into a bleak tone, huh -my main observation is the apartment was seemingly abandoned if the dust is any indication, so he was not a resident but brought there. Poisoned makes sense if he was not injured -ok, lol, the Rache thing NOT being Rachel is the thing I had spoiled, and they've already dropped that in the intro chapter to the crime. So I guess I don't know where this is going. Fun! Chapter 4 - What John Rance Had To Tell -watson is smart actually -though I think RACHE being a red herring as Holmes suggests is way too easy -tho Holmes guessing the murderers appearance leads me to believe it's someone he knows. (Also weird that Rance is also a five letter R-E word). -could even make the argument that it could be a fucked up version where the C and H are switched and mutilated, but I have no clue why if the murderer supposedly did it -then again I also don't know why the murderer was the injured one with no sign of a struggle. Maybe a third person? Or something unrelated/accidental? OR the dead dude wasn't actually poisoned, we only have the police's word on that -OH HE SAID THE TITLE OOOOOHHHH -also Holmes seems more invested in the fun of the mystery than the fact some dude was fucking murdered, presumably by a friend based on what he said earlier Chapter 5 - Our Advertisement Brings A Visitor -watson be like "well the guy was fuck ugly so it's probably good he got murdered" like bro??? -yeah no way is this the culprit. Like we're maybe a quarter into the book. If it IS him then there's way more to it -Some Rando In Disguise It Seems -tho I have to say putting an ad out for a (potentially?) valuable piece of lost jewelry like a wedding ring would attract grifters whether they had any relation to the murder or not. Seems like a weird oversight to the plan. Chapter 6 - Tobias Gregson Shows What He Can Do -seeing how 3 different papers frame the murder, specifically political motivations, is a little funny even if I'm missing some of the context of the time. -interesting frame for the chapter, someone else telling a story to the leads. I guess it adds some variety to the presentation (and lets us see red herrings that wouldn't trip up Holmes) -some of the terminology didn't age well, which is unsurprising -- "street Arab" rather than "street urchin". -HOW THE TURNTABLES. THE PLOT THICKENS. ETC Chapter 7 - Light in the Darkness -RACHE again. Hmmmmm. Only this time it WOULD be the victim's blood, not the murderer's. Is the handwriting the same? Plus the original height observation? And the first RACHE was almost hidden, but this one seems more in the open based on what Lestrade said. -again the use of framing where one of the less capable detectives talks about what they've done and discovered to add some variety -ok so this guy was murdered in a much different way than the other, which seems odd, unless someone else did this one. -and the pills point to Stangerson killing Drebber, but then who killed Stangerson? If he was poisoned he would have been stabbed independently of that. -and why two different kinds of pills. Is one an antidote to the other, maybe? It's possible the murderer planted it in Stangerson's room, but why, if the goal was to implicate him? So it probably is actually his. -holmes just knowing and there being some plot contrivance why he can't say does kinda fizzle the stakes a little (never mind this gets resolved in like 2 pages) -but assuming he IS right, I was correct about there being 2 people... which might explain the differences in the 2 murders? -the cab driver! He was mentioned early then everyone seemingly forgot he was present around the time Drebber died. -"it's the end of the mystery!" Uh yeah except the second person is almost certainly at large and there's an entire second part to the story, Holmes. Lol. Lmao Part 2 - The Country of the Saints Chapter 1-- On The Great Alkali Plain -colonialist worldview ahoy -doyle my guy you know quite literally nothing about ecology here like it's ok to admit it -*lists 3 predators* "these are the only guys that live here, in the great miserable American plains," that's not how any food chain works. Also you live in fucking London -I'll stop roasting him lmao -i guess it's like the Nevada salt flats or something?? A little more valid I guess -... huh. -this is quite the framing for part 2 of a murder mystery I'll be real. -the idea of this huge mass of white people traveling through the western desert and biblical references in the like makes me think of Mormons more than anything... -and Stangerson makes his appearance here which sure is fascinating if the dude fucking died (unless the whole antidote and fake death thing is the real shit). Or he has a twin or something. Or this is the past. -oh my god they are Mormons -why are there Mormons making pilgrimage in the salt flats in the first Sherlock Holmes murder mystery??? This shit is wild -"my kid now" ok, word, Ferrier -bringham young is in this SHERLOCK HOLMES story and is also a fucking dick. I'm going insane   Chapter 2 - The Flower of Utah -ferrier gay as fuck let's just be real here -so is this like where the backstory for the wedding ring comes from? If so this is pretty extensive. I do wonder how it all ties into the first story. Like we went full cowboy western here -twu wuv exposition etc Chapter 3 - John Ferrier Talks With The Prophet -"the Mormons suck by the way" ok Doyle go off? -i have to emphasize again that Brigham Young is a character in this fucking Sherlock Holmes story. Like. A villain. This is just crazy to me lmao -The Danites were a real thing apparently? Man. -my guy put in a FOOTNOTE and CITATION about Mormons being misogynistic. There are no footnotes anywhere in the story except to be like "no really they called women heifers here's the guy who said it" I am literally not making this shit up. Doyle based actually??? Chapter 4 - A Flight For Life -we are like half through the second part and I have to fucking state again this is a Sherlock Holmes murder mystery thats just straight up a western now with Brigham Young as the antagonist with the title character nowhere in sight -it hasnt been like outright stated and he could just be tan but theres so many references to Ferrier having brown skin it does make me wonder if he isn't white. The only thing that would be odd with that is he isn't racially discriminated against in a Mormon compound. Especially since his adopted daughter is deffo white & he is discriminated against for NOT taking wives. I can't see that really happening if he isn't white -"there are two ways out of the room... there is the door, and there is the window. Which do you care to use?" DAMN dude -Stangerson & Drebber really do be 2 complete cunts huh. Fuck those guys -doyle: I need to name the guy who rescues Ferrier and Lucy from the Mormons. In America. I got it! "Jefferson Hope" Chapter 5 - The Avenging Angels -we got 3 chapters left??? -"once safe in Carson we may rest for the remainder of our lives" is that on the nose foreshadowing -at least now the wilderness is being described in beautiful terms -Oh RIP Ferrier I guess. They bothered to dig a grave, lol? -honestly I'm a little surprised they didn't try to hunt Jefferson Hope down for good measure since they're supposed to be ultra vindictive. Unless they didn't know he was with them? I guess maybe they didn't? -... nope, they knew and put out a warrant. Again why not try to track him? Too hard? -and convenient random guy Hope happens to know who doesn't hate him who we havent ever seen before -lmao he just leaves her to die I guess? "Oh well some rando married her so it's all over"?? Surely true love would, I dunno, trump social conventions? I guess not LMAO -i guess that's one way to circle around to the first half of the story Chapter 6 - A Continuation of the Reminiscences of John Watson, M.D. -I'll be honest, it could be because this is the first story written about Holmes, but I'm pretty confident this WASNT a mystery one could figure out based on the evidence presented, which is something I was led to believe was a staple of these stories. But I guess it's possible the style just wasn't nailed down yet -maybe you could figure out how the crime was committed but not the motive -that line about vengeance might be the quote to use -I like this part of the narrative where we really see into Hope's actions. I think so much of the story in America was unnecessary; I just didn't feel strongly about the characters like I do actually seeing his perspective here. Why bother with the whole stranded in the desert thing and going into so much detail about how Lucy and Ferrier came to live in Salt Lake City? I dunno, I think it might have been better to be shorter and from Hope's perspective if you must include that section of the story at all - and again, it's not like you could have figured out all that shit based on the first half of the story. I appreciate the kinda experimental time jump but I don't think it worked great -ok the Russian roulette pill thing is a bit weird but sure king, go for it -i know it's metaphorical probably but I like the kinda Gothic touch of Lucy and Ferrier following him to the murder   -"let us see if there is justice upon the earth, or if we are ruled by chance" ok that's pretty raw, go off king -i mean if I have to choose a revenge story from around this period I'd definitely go for Monte Cristo but this is fun too -why try to cover up the crime with the whole Rache thing if you know you're gonna die tho lol -i guess to buy time to kill Stangerson too? Chapter 7 - The Conclusion -I do like the detail that the murderer's blood was on the scene but not the victim. That WAS revealed early but I never suspected a bloody nose to be the source. If it had been a wound there probably would have been evidence of it; a limp or something. That is pretty clever. -but on the other hand, Holmes WAS privy to information we never get (Hope's name and connection to Drebber), so I wouldn't call this a fair mystery. -lestrade and Gregson getting all the credit as predicted lmao -my man closes with Latin? I gotta look it up -"The public hiss at me, but I cheer myself when in my own house I contemplate the coins in my strong-box." -basically, I'm awesome even if no one knows it Well! That was interesting. I liked the mystery itself, and the revenge narrative portion of the conclusion. It's a strong start to a famous character. I think we get a little lost in the weeds with the time jump in the second half of the story, way too much detail and I don't think it focused on the right characters for most of it. Also I have to be a stickler on the fair mystery thing; there are some things you can deduce, but Holmes literally had info we never receive so it's ultimately not fair. I hope this does genuinely change in future stories. I certainly didn't mean to start with the first one, that was an honest accident lmao

[thexanwillshine]

remember me

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Chapter: 2/3 of synchronicity Notes: part of the remember me when the stars align trilogy

Hange’s first interaction with Moblit was weird, to say the least.

He was introduced to her along with a woman named Nifa, and they had both looked incredibly thrilled to see her. Hange understood the enthusiasm, because for a reason she could not place, seeing both their faces—happy, healthy, and very much alive— made her really happy too.

“My name is Moblit Berner, at your service!” The man said, his face contorted into what looked like a nervous smile.

Hange responded with just as much enthusiasm, taking two of Moblit’s hands between her own and saying, “I’m grateful for your service!” in delight.

Nifa, on the other hand, had stared at her with wide eyes, excitedly giggling as she took Hange’s hand in between her own and shook it with vigor. She said that she was a student taking her master’s degree in Criminology. Moblit, on the other hand, smiled at her gently, eyes softening as he shook Hange’s hand in a manner that was both gentle and firm. Armed with a bachelor’s degree in forensic science, Moblit was incredibly interested in Hange's new research.

Two weeks later found Moblit at her aid while she was hard at work. Hange couldn’t help but feel as if everything was as it should be.

“Hey Hange,” Moblit greeted as he entered her office, a pack of sandwiches in one hand and paperwork in the other. “I bet you haven’t eaten,” he added, laying the food in front of her in an attempt to tempt the professor from her work.

Hange looked up at him from her thick-rimmed glasses, blinking twice as she scrutinized the sandwiches. “You thought right,” she said, chuckling. “I must have forgotten.”

Moblit sighed, exasperated—as if she had caused him the same frustration ten times over at that point in time. “You need to eat, Hange,” he told her, shaking his head. “I know how important your research is, but don’t you think your health is pretty important too?”

Hange laughed then, the sense of motherly worry emanating from Moblit too familiar to brush off.

“I guess so,” Hange replied, shrugging as she leaned back on her swivel chair, closing her eyes. “Can’t go to a Christmas party if I’m sick, right?”

“Definitely,” Moblit replied, nodding. The man was happy that he was able to get through to her, even just a little bit. “I have to ask though, what makes this party so special to you? I took you as a partying type, but . . .”

Hange hummed, tapping her finger on her chin in thought. The glow from her laptop screen bounced off the lenses of her glasses, effectively hiding her eyes from Moblit. She settled for an answer soon enough, “I don’t know. But a good friend of mine is hosting it and I want to be there.”

“I see,” Moblit said, nodding. He noticed the way Hange’s eyes drifted from the computer to a random spot on the wall, a clear sign that she was already lost in thought. Normally, Moblit didn’t have a clue as to what went on inside his superior’s head, but he had a slight inkling for now.

He pretended not to notice, at first, but it’s not easy to ignore the way Hange’s face lights up whenever she would talk about a certain coffee shop owner from down the street.

A snide grin grew on Moblit’s face when he asked, “Is he more than a friend?”

Hange, as per usual, was oblivious to his teasing. She nodded her head in response enthusiastically, beaming. “Yeah! He’s a really good friend!”

Moblit chuckled then, not really expecting a serious reply from the professor. “That’s great,” he encouraged. “You should eat and get back to work then, so that you can go to his party.”

“You’re right, Moblit!” Hange said loudly, grabbing a sandwich and shoving it in her mouth. “Aamf GonFfa Gfof to da Pawfty!”

Moblit’s attempts to tell her “Okay, Hange, take it easy,” as well as “Hange, don’t overdo it” were immediately lost as Hange shoved her face in front of the computer eagerly while absently chewing on her sandwich. Moblit sighed before grabbing a seat next to the professor.

Might as well help her finish so that she could go to that Christmas party with her really good friend.

“I fail to understand how Eren could make such a deadly mistake twice,” Mikasa said deadpandly, her right eye twitching. “In two of his lives. I just don’t get it.”

Levi, who had been wiping the counter, raised an eyebrow at his younger cousin before following her line of vision to see an elated Hange explaining the workings of her new research proposal to an extremely flabbergasted Eren.

“Didn’t you warn him?” he asked Mikasa as he put the dirty cloth away.

“I thought I didn’t need to,” Mikasa replied in light amusement. “This is like a personal brand of torture. Here you go, Armin.”

The blonde chuckled, taking his frappuccino from Mikasa’s outstretched hand. “He was having fun at first though. Professor Hange still radiates the same excitement and energy, so Eren got really hyped.”

As he positioned himself in front of the cash register, pretending to be indifferent, Levi stole a glance at the gleeful scientist. Hange is beaming, her eyes practically sparkling as she waved her hands around animatedly. Her voice came in varying octaves, the occasional “It’s so interesting!” floating into his ears. As clouds began to shift, and the light of the sun hit the rims of her glasses and shined against her hair, Levi forced his gaze down at the cash register, tapping in his code before listening to its familiar ding .

Mikasa smirked knowingly. “This fuckin’ simp.”

“So, you’re not coming here for Christmas?” Isabel said, annoyance laced in her tone.

Farlan shoved his elbow against the younger girl’s ribs none too gently; a silent warning to be nice. Isabel frowned in response, shoving him back.

“Sorry,” Hange told the two siblings honestly. She leaned back against her headboard as she removed her glasses from her face, opening and closing her eyes in a sorry attempt to hide her tiredness.

Sleep was already beckoning Hange to its sweet embrace. Her lids were already starting to droop, but the idea that Isabel and Farlan missed her warmed her heart by a lot. “But it’s okay! I can celebrate with some of my friends here. You guys don’t have to worry about me.”

“That’s good,” Farlan said, taking the phone from Isabel who looked like she would have started whining in protest. “Maybe next time you can come visit us again.”

Strings tugged in Hange’s heart as she looked at the two fondly. Isabel was pouting visibly, eyes averted from the camera as she sulked. Farlan, on the other hand, was holding the camera with a small smile on his face,

“She would’ve been able to visit us this year if she just allowed us to treat her!” Isabel shouted from the other side of the camera.

Farlan laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his auburn hair. “Honestly, Hange, I’m just glad you’re having fun. Isabel’s just feeling a little jealous that you have friends there.”

“I miss you guys so much,” she told Farlan honestly, blinking back the sleep that threatened to take her to her own dreamland. “We’ll see each other soon, I know it!”

Farlan smiled, finally allowing a pouting Isabel the chance to see Hange on camera. “Yeah, we will. Right, Isabel?”

Isabel gave a brief ‘hmph’ before nodding. “You’re lucky we love you,” she told Hange, rolling her eyes. “This is a betrayal, I tell you!”

Hange laughed heartily, knowing full well that Isabel was merely joking. “I’ll look forward to earning your trust back.”

Isabel replied smoothly, her usual wit flowing, “I bet that whoever your new friends are, they won’t be half as cool as us.”

“Mother,” Levi whispered, his breath almost taken away at the sight of Kuchel Ackerman. “Welcome home.”

Kuchel put down her bags and the hat that nestled on the top of her dark hair as she glanced at the sight of her son. “Hello dear,” she greeted casually, shrugging off the coat on her shoulders. “How have you been?”

Levi buried her nails deep into his fingers, trying to act normal to the best of his abilities. “Great,” he said, voice controlled. “How have you been?”

Kuchel could already sense that there was something Levi was not telling her, despite the fact that he kept his silence. “The trip was fine, dear,” she told him softly, before walking over to the young man. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered under his breath, eyes staring at the floor as he willed himself not to cry at the sight of his own mother. The knowledge of his past life and the pain he felt at the death of his own mother—the weight that heaved into his heart and plagued his mind—dissipated at the sight of her smiling at him, eyes gentle and features as soft as he remembered it. “It was just different without you around. Mikasa’s become more rebellious.”

Kuchel raised an eyebrow. “Really now?” the woman said playfully, her eyes glinting in mischief. “You old man, just because you weren’t the same way when you were younger doesn’t mean Mikasa’s rebellious.”

Levi scoffed, and Kuchel laughed heartily. “On a more serious note; my son, I know when something is bothering you. Now, do tell what’s wrong.”

How is one supposed to explain to their mother that the memory of a past life wherein she wasn’t alive resided in his mind?

“Levi,” Kuchel said, gently placing her palm on Levi’s cheek. “What’s wrong?”

Levi closed his eyes and sighed, resting his cheek against his mother’s loving touch. “Nothing. I guess I’ve just been really stressed lately,” he responded, lying between his teeth. “With the holidays coming and everything.”

“Oh darling,” Kuchel whispered, bringing him into a hug. Normally, Levi would’ve reluctantly entered the warmth of his mother’s arms, or gently patted her back in return. This time though, he held her close to him as she muttered, “You’re lying, Levi. But no matter, I’ll be here for you whenever you’re ready.”

Of course, he thought, a small smile making its way to his lips. His mother is carved from patience and built by grace, her kindness permeating the air like the sweet breeze of summer.

“Thank you,” he told her in return, and she tightened her hug.

Mikasa glared at Levi as he shoved the cookie dough in her direction.

“Fix your face,” he told her nonchalantly without even a glance at her direction. Mikasa scoffed as her cousin effortlessly cracked a pair of eggs into a bowl. “You’re ruining the Christmas spirit.”

“Like you care about the Christmas spirit,” she responded snarkily, dipping her fingers into the dough and rolling it into tiny balls.

“It was your idea to invite people over.”

“And it was your idea to cook. Why couldn’t we just order food?”

“Are you paying?”

“. . . No.”

“Exactly.”

Silence filled the kitchen as Mikasa succumbed to

The day had been relatively uneventful. They had opened the cafe for Christmas day, but only for about four hours. It was a way for them to give their customers the bulk orders they had ordered the days before Christmas itself. For Levi, it was also a day to distribute Christmas bonuses for his dedicated team.

With the cafe closed by noon, the Ackermans found themselves waving goodbye to their co-employees and heading home to get ready for the night’s celebration.

Mikasa broke the silence with a question. “What cookies are these again?”

“Chocolate chip,” Levi answered shortly.

He fired up the stove before placing the chopped garlic and onions into a large pot, drizzling the entire thing with olive oil. With a spatula, he moved the chunks of food around, and the smell of garlic and onion filled the kitchen. Mikasa took a satisfied whiff before turning on the hood. The light smoke that filled the air was immediately absorbed by the machine, so Mikasa went back to working on the dough.

She broke the silence a second time. “Is it because Hange’s always loved chocolate?”

“You’re being awfully talkative today,” Levi commented, tossing a bit of salt on the sizzling aromatics.

“And you’re being awfully avoidant,” Mikasa countered, shaking her head. “Just answer the question, captain.”

He poured the pasta sauce into the pot before responding. “You can’t go wrong with chocolate chip, brat, ” Levi said. “As far as I know, everyone loves chocolate.”

“Especially Hange.”

“Shut up.”

While placing the balls of dough on the pan, Mikasa smirked, the familiar feeling of victory boosting her ego by a tiny bit.

Unfortunately, her win is short-lived as Levi spoke. “Aren’t you gonna prepare something special for your boyfriend?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Someone’s a sore loser.”

Mikasa immediately shot Levi a glare as the man raised an eyebrow at her in triumph, challenging the young girl to even dare contradict his statement. As Mikasa narrowed her eyes at Levi, ready to grab a chunk of cookie dough to throw—

“Well, this is a fun show!” a bright voice interrupted. Hange leaned over the counter, placing her chin on the palms of her hand. Immediately, the cousins break out of their silent battle to stare at her in surprise. She beamed at the two of them, unfazed. “Well, don’t let me distract you both from this lovely argument.”

“Hange,” Levi said in what seemed to be a greeting. Mikasa rolled her eyes at him, preventing the urge to stick her tongue out immaturely. “You’re early.”

Hange bounced giddily on her seat as if she were a child before giving Levi a thumbs up. The sleeves of her (hideous) red sweater nearly covered the ends of her fingertips. “Yeah! I was so excited that I couldn’t wait. Hope you don’t mind me dropping by this early!” She told them both loudly, waving frantically at the two of them. “I met Aunt Kuchel by the way, she’s lovely.”

The moment his mother’s name is mentioned, Levi caught a glimpse of Kuchel peeking at them from behind the wall, a smirk on her face. She was looking in their direction, a teasing glint in her eye as she snickered at him . Levi narrowed his eyes at his mother’s antics before focusing on Hange once more.

Her gaze met his own the moment he yielded from his mother’s teasing. Hange had a wistful look in her eyes, a small, longing smile on her face as she stared at him. He blinked back at her in confusion, raising a thin eyebrow in inquiry, but she immediately shrugged off the melancholy etched on her face with ease.

“Googly eyes, can we continue baking the cookies now? Eren and the others are going to come by soon,” said Mikasa as she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, the flour from her hands lightly dusting the front of her apron. Levi glared at her in response, and she narrowed her eyes at him, as if daring her older cousin to fight her.

Reluctantly, Levi relented, but he kept his icy gaze on Mikasa as he grabbed the bag of flour. Hange chuckled.

“Maybe I can help?” she asked loudly. “I haven’t really tried cooking the way you guys do, but I’m pretty good at chemistry! I’m sure that counts for something.”

A small smirk slowly made its way to Mikasa’s lips as an idea popped into her head. “Yes, professor,” the young girl replied, without even attempting to hide her malintent from her older cousin. “But would it be alright for you to take my place for now? I also need to get ready for the party, I haven’t really taken a shower yet.”

Hange nodded enthusiastically before reaching out and patting Mikasa’s shoulder. “Of course! I’d be happy to help.” The professor then grinned as she held out her hand. “Give me your apron.”

Levi watched the entire exchange, his left eye slightly twitching at the antics of his own younger cousin. Of course he knew what she was up to. He had kicked her shin lightly the moment she started talking; he was perfectly aware that Mikasa wanted to weasel her way out of cooking.

(on a separate, completely unrelated note—that Levi would never admit—he was also, ever-so-slightly, kind of, maybe, a bit, sort of, a little? grateful—yes, that’s the word—because mikasa was trying to give him time with Hange, which, you know, he missed. because Hange was busy the entire week prior finishing up her research proposal, and he barely got to see her.)

As Levi contemplated whether or not the gift he chose for Mikasa for Christmas was worth it, Hange slipped behind the kitchen counter to stand beside him.

“I don’t know how to cook,” she whispered as she tied Mikasa’s apron around her waist.

Almost absent-mindedly, Levi brushed off the flour that had settled on Hange’s shoulder. “You didn’t even tie it properly, four-eyes,” he told her, shaking his head. “Turn around properly, I’ll do it for you.”

Hange laughed before turning around. “Thanks, Levi.”

He hummed in response as he took the clumsily-knotted strands between his fingertips, lacing them in a manner that came with years of practice. His fingers brushed against the cloth of Hange’s sweater, and he grimaced.

“Aren’t you worried that your outfit’s gonna get soiled?”

“Oh, this?” Hange asked, pulling on her sweater. “This is just something I made recently, because I wanted to get into the Christmas spirit. Do you like it?”

“It’s ugly,” Levi answered honestly.

“Then it’s perfect,” Hange said in response, nodding her head in approval. “Ugly Christmas sweater is now officially checked off my bucket list! Now, how do you bake cookies?”

Forty minutes later, Levi came to the conclusion that Hange is somewhat decent at baking cookies, and that they have made significant cooking progress in the time that they had spent together. Their dynamic was the same— familiar, even—which was something that Levi found nice. The rhythm that they formed from all those years of training seemed to translate well even in the kitchen, as he handed her dough to roll into balls before placing in the oven.

Granted, it was a relatively easy task that was very hard to fuck up, but Levi liked the idea of having their dynamic maintained even in the new world.

He liked this, Levi thought. He hung onto every word she said, no matter how needless it seemed. She talked about Moblit and Nifa, her occasional run-ins with Nanaba and her husband (who Levi assumed, and hoped, was Miche), and her distant friends who became sad because she didn’t fly back to them that Christmas.

“They’re probably mad because I flaked on the sleepover we usually have,” Hange told him, chuckling. “Who was I to pass up an opportunity to be with my new friends? Besides, I’ve never been invited to a Christmas party before. What do you usually do at Christmas parties?”

Levi shrugged, removing the plastic gloves from his hands and wiping his fingers on a clean rug. “Eat. Talk. Watch movies, I guess. Most of the time I just clean. Mikasa and her friends always make a mess.”

Mikasa’s ears perked up immediately at the sound of her name, immediately glaring at Levi from the dining table where she was currently setting up the plates. Hange waved in her direction, lightly alleviating the young girl’s annoyance over her cousin.

“You’re such a big brother,” Hange told Levi as she leaned on the kitchen counter. “To Mikasa, I mean. I know the two of you are cousins, but your relationship radiates big sibling energy.”

Levi rolled his eyes at her compliment (was it even one?) as he focused on taking the lasagna out from the oven. The smell wafted through the air immediately, so Hange inhaled in satisfaction before releasing the air in a contented sigh.

“That smells nice,” she told him offhandedly, and Levi nodded. “I’ve always wanted siblings,” Hange continued, watching him. “When I was young, I’ve always had this feeling that there was something missing.”

Levi’s eyes snapped wider then, as he caught a glimpse of the longing expression on her face. “It was as if I was always waiting for something to happen, you know?” she said quietly. Her fingers tightly gripped the table as a light smile grew on her lips. “It’s like there was some kind of hole that I couldn’t quite fill, no matter how hard I tried.”

Yes, he thought, I know, I understand, it’s because— Levi put down the lasagna on the table and looked at her directly, decisively. Unfortunately for him, the words that formed at the edges of his throat died at his lips, and he stood there staring at Hange as she tilted her head at him in curiosity.

“Is something wrong, Levi? Sorry, did I—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head.

He had completely forgotten.

The threads of fate won’t allow him to interfere with its design, no matter how much he wanted to tell Hange about the forgotten past that (he knew) lingered in the back of her mind.

Armin arrived with Eren and his mother in tow an hour later, the lot of them bundled in thick coats and scarves. Kuchel greeted them all with great enthusiasm, fussing over their appearance and urging the new arrivals to approach the fireplace and get warm before dinner.

Eren perked up the moment he saw Hange fiddling with the pipe for the cookies’ cream.

“Professor Hange!” he greeted, waving his hand towards the professor. “You’re here!”

“Yeah, Levi invited me! Right Levi?”

Heat bloomed on Levi’s cheeks as Eren directed his inquisitive glance towards him. In response, he glared at the young adult, who put his hands up automatically in defense.

“Well, I got stuck with your annoying ass because of Erwin,” Levi responded smoothly.

Hange giggled, obviously unfazed. “Awww,” she crooned teasingly. “Are you sure you just didn’t want to spend time with little old me?”

Levi kept his eyes down on the final batch of dough he was kneading, purposely avoiding Hange’s own gaze. “Quite sure.”

“Are you reaaaaaallly sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really really?”

“Damn it, four-eyes, shut up.”

Hange laughed before winking at Eren, who flashed her a worried look in return. He of all people would know not to get in Levi’s bad side (mostly because he was Eren’s boss, but also due to the fact that Levi was just a scary person in general; Eren had, after all, seen the way Levi would glare at the people who made Armin burst into tears when they were still children). However, the way Hange laughed beside him, teasing him without fear in her smile or a quiver in her tone, it almost seemed as if they knew each other all their lives.

“I’ll head on to the dining table, Professor,” Eren told her gently. The two seemed to be enjoying themselves in their small kitchen bubble, he didn’t want to intrude.

Hange nodded at him, waving her hand goodbye. “See you there, Eren!”

As Eren walked away, Hange turned her attention back to Levi, who was shoving the cookies inside the oven before shutting it close. She watched as he sighed in relief before wiping the sweat on his brow. The flour from his gloves dusted his face, falling like snow on the edges of his hair and his forehead.

“Hey,” Hange said, walking towards him. “You got some flour on your face.”

Levi cocked an eyebrow at her and swiped at his forehead, getting most of the white dust off. “Is it gone?”

“Not quite,” Hange replied. Almost mechanically, her hand moved closer to his face. “May I?”

He shrugged as a form of consent, and she gently swiped the dust from his eyebrows off, her thumb gently running over his skin. “There,” she declared. “You’re all clean!”

“Unlike you,” Levi responded, shaking his head. He only had a bit of flour on his forehead, but Hange was caked in the powder. Her grey apron was almost pale from the flour that she had spilled earlier, and strands of her hair were still dusted white.

Levi removed his gloves and washed his hands before gesturing for Hange to approach him. She tilted her head to the side in confusion, but went to him nonetheless.

“What’s up?” she asked, leaning on the sink counter beside him.

“Your hair,” he replied simply, and Hange automatically understood what he meant.

“Oh!” she gasped, taking the strands in between her fingertips. The flour dust had already settled, so Hange smiled sheepishly. “Woops.”

Levi rolled his eyes automatically. “C’mere,” he said, reaching out to her. Automatically, she bowed her head so that the strands of her hair could meet his outstretched hand.

It seemed almost routine. Levi ran dry fingers through her hair, gently removing the powder away from her dark strands. Her locks were soft, surprisingly, and it was easy to swipe away the particles that had gathered from her bangs to the strands that hung just a little above her shoulder.

Hange closed her eyes, allowing him to thread his fingers through her hair. His touch was familiar, almost as if she had felt his skin against hers a hundred times more than she knew.

‘Dedicate your heart.’

Hange’s eyes flashed open, her head jolting upwards just as quickly. Levi retracted his hand quickly as if he had been burned, concern written all over his face. He raised his eyebrow in inquiry as Hange blinked at him in confusion.

“Did you say something?” Hange asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Levi shook his head.

“Oh,” was all Hange could say as before she sighed. “Sorry, I was probably hearing things. You can continue.”

“Must be from all that sugar you’ve been eating,” Levi told her as he resumed dusting the specks of powder away from her hair.

She laughed at him heartily, trying to ignore the sudden ache that had formed in her chest. “Yeah, I should’ve listened to you when you told me to lay off the cookie dough,” she affirmed, smiling.

Levi could sense that something was off with the professor—after all, he knew her both from his past and current life—and it is this knowledge that stopped him from prying as to what had bothered her. She would tell him when she’s ready, he thinks, as Hange isn’t the type to open up during such an occasion. She would hate to be a burden, even though she wasn’t.

Instead, he continues patting the strands of her hair and threading his fingers through them, satisfied at the serene look on his previous commander’s face.

“Ehem.”

Hange and Levi jumped about a foot apart from each other. Mikasa and Kuchel stood in front of both of them. The former had a knowing smirk playing on her lips while the latter grinned in pride, eyes sparkling in excitement.

“I hate to ruin the moment,” Kuchel told them, trying to hold in her laughter, “but the cookies are already done and dinner is about to begin.”

A red tint was slowly starting to make its way on Levi’s face. He looked away, shoving his hands inside his pockets and trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

Hange wasn’t as discreet. “Right,” she said sheepishly. “Sorry, auntie.”

“Oh honey, with the way things are going, you might as well be calling me mom.”

The table itself is filled with food. Mashed potatoes, lasagna, fried chicken, and cake were spread out, allowing its partakers to pass around the food when necessary. Armin is talking animatedly with Carla, the sound of his laughter filling his surroundings with warmth. Eren placed a healthy serving of mashed potato on Mikasa’s plate, urging her to eat more because it was her favourite. She stared at him blankly, but flashed him a small smile when he grinned at her.

The redness on Levi’s face is masked by the light of the candle in front of him. Kuchel, who sat at the table’s head, insisted that Hange sit beside her. Levi focused all of his attention on the food laid out in front of him, actively avoiding the suggestive glances his own mother was giving him.

“So Hange, you’re a professor?” asked Kuchel excitedly.

“Yes ma’am,” Hange replied politely, taking a bite out of the (very delicious) lasagna on her plate. “But I’m mostly a scientist.”

“That’s lovely, what do you specialize in?”

“Biology,” she exclaimed, beaming, “I’ve recently submitted a research proposal for an experiment I’ve been wanting to work on for years. It involves the genetic modification of eggplants so that they can withstand harsh conditions.”

To Kuchel’s credit, the woman looked absolutely enthralled at the idea. Levi listened as the two gushed over plants (his mother had recently taken a liking to growing cacti and other forms of succulents), food, and occasionally, him.

“Levi’s such a quiet child,” Kuchel lamented, dramatically placing the back of her hand on her forehead. “He was never really one to talk to a lot of people. Bless his workers for putting up with him.”

Levi’s glare caught the teasing glint in Kuchel’s eyes the very moment he raised his head from his plate.

“Levi’s really funny, though!” Hange said in his defense, grinning. He directed his icy stare at her, but she continued on, unfazed. “He’s one of the sassiest people I know.”

“Oh really now?” Kuchel asked in encouragement. “Please, do tell me more.”

The night continues like that, the gentle hum of conversation and glorious scent from the feast effectively filling the air with Christmas cheer.

Annie arrived at around eleven in the evening. Armin greeted her excitedly, holding her hands between his own while grinning widely. There is snow on her hair, which Armin brushes off with such care. Afterwards, he dragged her towards the table, where the feast was still available for anyone who wished to eat once more.

A full Eren was sprawled on the sofa next to Mikasa. Both of them were watching a random show on Netflix. Mikasa’s eyes were already drooping, her head dangerously close to falling on Eren’s shoulder. Levi almost sneered at the sight as the thought of taking pictures and blackmailing Mikasa crossed his mind.

He, along with Carla, Kuchel, and Hange, share a bottle of wine as Hange updates them about the recent developments in the university. She told them about Eren’s improving grades, Armin’s (naturally) stellar ones, and Mikasa’s deep interest in biology. Levi informed Carla that Eren was doing better at work, infinitely more than his first day, to the point that he could be relied on to close up the shop and take charge of the cash register. Carla smiles softly, the pride on her face evident as she glanced at her son, who was wrapping a scarf around an already asleep Mikasa.

“Aunt Kuchel, we’re still expecting guests. I hope that’s okay,” Armin requested as he passed by. Behind him, Annie stood with a plate of food. She politely nodded at the adults before hiding her eyes behind her bangs once more.

Kuchel waved her hand nonchalantly. “Of course it’s okay! The more, the merrier, right? Besides, we have so much food. I wouldn’t want us to keep eating leftovers for the next few days, so it’s better to just finish them all now.”

Armin smiled immediately in response. “Thank you Auntie Kuchel!”

Hange watched her two students stalk off in a spot relatively far from Eren and Mikasa. She assumed that it was because the blonde couple didn’t want to disturb the pair, both of whom were already being called by the gentle serenade of sleep.

She stole a glance at Levi, who was slowly sipping on his wine. He held the glass by its rims, which would’ve been peculiar for some, but for Hange it seemed almost familiar. Unfortunately for Hange, he looked up from his drink to meet her pressing stare. She gave him a small, assuring smile, but he raised an eyebrow at her in response.

Just as Hange opened her mouth to speak, the sound of a chime filled the lull of silence. From the distance, Armin stood up, gently patting Annie’s shoulder as he got ready to welcome the new guests.

Probably his classmates, Hange thought as she trails the blond, who was now walking towards the door. She observed as he reached out for the knob and opened it.

“Thanks for coming!” she heard him say.

“No, we should be thanking you for allowing us to come here,” responded the voice from outside the window.

Hange froze, the wine glass in her hand suddenly feeling cold to the touch. Had she been looking at Levi, she would’ve seen the confusion on his face, which spoke of the shock that had run through his spine.

No way, Hange thought, her eyes narrowing as she watched Armin move aside to allow the guests inside. She was already standing halfway through her seat, her wine glass placed on the table, forgotten. No freaking way.

“Hange, are you gonna keep gawking at us like that or am I finally gonna receive a hug from you?”

A laugh burst from Hange’s lips as tears began to well in her eyes, and she launched herself towards the two people that had just entered the room.

“Isabel! Farlan!”

Levi feels numb.

For a moment, everything was a blur. He remembered seeing Armin open the door to receive guests. He remembered Hange swiftly standing up in order to hug Isabel and Farlan, both of whom were very much alive.

He remembered seeing a decapitated head and a mangled body.

Suddenly he is standing in the middle of the falling rain, his chest bursting with a pain that ripped through his own body. It was as if a barrage of pins and needles were running through his skin, the sharp tips breaking through his muscles and seeping into the flesh covering his heart. Hot and cold intertwine as the cold raindrops pierce his fingertips and the heat from his veins burn through his skin.

He is pulled from his own memories to Hange’s touch, and he absent-mindedly stares at the hand on his arm before tracing its length to see the gentle look on Hange’s face. “Levi?” she asked softly, as if trying to contain her own excitement. “I want to introduce you to my friends!”

There is warmth spreading out from his back to his shoulders, a gentle weight of a hand placed on the top of his head and fingers caressing his bloodied face. Her glasses are askew, hair drenched with a mixture of sweat and rain. There is concern written all over her face hidden underneath the titan blood evaporating into the air.

“Levi?” Hange whispered hesitantly.

Levi shifts his gaze from Hange to that of Isabel and Farlan. There are exuberant smiles on their faces and ugly Christmas sweaters on their bodies. He caught a glance of his mother’s approving look.

Then, he looks at Hange once more. “Okay.”

She beams at him and tugs on his sleeve, urging him to stand and meet the two people that were standing in the middle of his living room.

“You look familiar,” Isabel told Levi bluntly, tilting her head to the side. “Do I know you from somewhere? Are you famous?”

Levi shook his head and rolled his eyes. Hange nudged his side, and he shot her a look that was almost apologetic.

“I’m Farlan,” the taller boy said, extending his hand in greeting. Levi shook it promptly. The warmth of Farlan’s hand transferred to his own, reminding Levi that Farlan is alive and not mangled by a titan.

The moment Levi detached his hand from Farlan, the young girl piped in. “And I’m Isabel! We’re Hange’s parents and we demand that you ask for our blessing before the marriage.”

“Isabel, it’s not like that,” Hange told her, grabbing the young girl by the arm and giving her a noogie. “We are two mature adults who happen to be friends!”

“Whatever you say, Levi lover!” Isabel teased amidst her attempts to escape from Hange’s hold. “Stop it, Hange, dammit, are you eight years old?”

It was at this moment that Levi realized that he had yet to introduce himself, but it appeared that he didn’t need to because Isabel and Farlan seemed to know his name already.

Nevertheless, he makes an attempt to converse effectively and says, “I’m Levi.”

Farlan laughed and patted him on the back. “We know. Hange would not shut up about you. At some point, we thought you guys were together or something.”

“Hange probably just likes mooching off of your coffee!” Isabel said loudly, but was met with another round of noogies. “Oh, stop it Hange!”

“What brings you here?” Hange asked then, finally letting go of a protesting Isabel. The young girl frowned at Hange, and she apologized by helping Isabel fix her hair.

“It’s ‘cause you wouldn’t fly out to see us!” Isabel replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “And we had the money to bring you on a round trip, but you just wouldn’t let your stupid pride borrow money from us.”

Hange laughed sheepishly, running a hand through her amber locks. “Well, that’s because it’s your money not mine! You should choose well on how you spend it.”

“Doesn’t seem very credible coming from you,” Levi commented, shaking his head.

“Hey!” Hange exclaimed, pouting. “I thought you were on my side!”

“Aha, that means he’s on our side!” Isabel interjected, laughing. “Sorry Hange, you’re outnumbered.”

The pout on Hange’s face shifted into a smile. She, along with Isabel and Farlan, laugh almost simultaneously.

“Thank you for coming here,” Hange told them afterwards. “I really appreciate it. I can’t believe you guys managed to surprise me. How’d you even know to go here?”

“It was easy,” Isabel replied, waving her hand in dismissal. Farlan nodded in agreement. “We just stalked you and found Armin, who was very eager to let us go. So we came.”

“We were supposed to talk to you,” Farlan continued, looking at Levi, “but we wanted to meet you in person and not online because we wanted a genuine first impression of you.”

“We did stalk you though,” Isabel added, and Farlan glared at her. “What?” she said defensively, glaring at the taller boy, “I’m just being honest! Gotta make sure our Hange isn’t fraternizing with some bad guy. Right?”

She turned to Levi then. He nodded, thinking it best not to contradict the two. Even in another life, Farlan and Isabel remained the same.

As they were talking, Hange had already stalked off to Kuchel. She was telling her about her friends and how they flew in just to meet her. Kuchel stood up from her seat elegantly, walking towards them with such poise that Isabel began to change her lazy stance into a more formal one.

“Thank you for having us, ma’am,” Isabel said politely. “We really appreciate it, and we apologize for the trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Kuchel responded warmly. “You are all welcome here. Any friend of Hange is a friend of mine.” She winked at Hange then, and the professor giggled. “And there’s no need to be so formal! You can call me Aunt Kuchel, if you’d like.”

The two newcomers grinned at the lady, a mixture of relief and excitement written all over their face. “Thank you so much,” they said in unison.

“It’s no problem, dears.”

The rest of the night is spent in cheer. Eren and Mikasa eventually woke up from their slumber with the noise that had erupted from the living room. They chose a new movie to watch, and they were soon joined by Armin and Annie, both of whom were wrapped up in a single blanket that Armin probably took the liberty of bringing.

Carla had decided to retire in one of the guest rooms, as she wasn’t used to staying up late at night. Kuchel followed soon after, bidding everyone goodbye and putting Levi in charge of making sure everyone was okay.

Hange, Levi, Isabel, and Farlan maintain light conversation. Levi hangs on to every word, trying to gather many snippets from their current lives as much as possible. He found out that Isabel was working as a veterinarian and that Farlan worked for a non-governmental organization that specializes in helping child delinquents. It was a fitting role for their personalities, and Levi almost felt like a proud big brother at what they have accomplished.

Witnessing them alive was enough for him, but seeing them happy was another level of joy.

He also found out that Hange constantly mentioned him to the two. While he was a consistent presence in Hange’s life, he didn’t know that he held that much relevance to her day-to-day life. Inwardly, he is thankful, because even though he would never admit it, he wants to be part of the stories that she would tell to the world.

When the clock struck four, Hange yawned in the middle of their conversation, and Levi decided it was time for all of them to retire. Normally, Eren would sleep with his mother in the guest room, but since Armin and Annie were staying over, the four of them decided to have a sleepover in Mikasa’s room.

“You should stay the night,” Levi told Hange, Isabel, and Farlan. “You can take my room.”

Isabel shook her head. “Sorry Levi, but we’re kind of looking forward to the breakfast buffet our hotel has to offer.”

“Haven’t you eaten enough?” Farlan asked snarkily, and Isabel glared at him. He continued, “But I do agree that we have to stay at the hotel. We paid for the night, after all.”

“Would you need any help getting there?” Hange asked. “I could drive you.”

“No need,” Isabel said. “We’re going to take a cab. It’s surprisingly easy to request one here, so we’ll just take our chances. You should stay though, Hange. It’s dangerous for you to drive out alone at this time.”

Hange hummed. “I guess so.” She nodded in agreement. “Levi, mind if I borrow the couch for tonight?”

Isabel snickered. “Or you can sleep beside him on his bed.”

The comment earned her a glare from Levi and a nudge from Hange, but the young girl looked unfazed. “It was a legit suggestion!” she said in defense.

“Either way, we should go,” Farlan interrupted, looking at his watch. “The cab I ordered is arriving in two minutes.”

“Told you it was fast,” Isabel told Levi triumphantly, and he nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“Thank you for tonight,” Farlan said, smiling. “Hange, we should hang out tomorrow.”

Hange nodded. “Definitely. I’ll free my schedule so that we can spend the whole day together!”

“You can come too if you’d like,” Farlan added, glancing at Levi. “As Aunt Kuchel said, any friend of Hange’s is a friend of ours.”

“Well damn, I have a lot of friends,” Hange interjected, poking Farlan’s cheek. “That means you have a lot of friends too.”

“Yeah yeah, Hange’s famous or whu-eh-vah.” Isabel made air quotes with her fingertips at the mention of the word famous, mocking the professor right in front of her. Hange laughed nonetheless.

“Aren’t you glad to be friends with a famous person like me?” Hange teased.

“Oh, shut up.”

The silence that followed the Christmas cheer was almost deafening, but Hange was feeling extremely overjoyed even as she began to lie down on the couch. From her position, she heard Levi lock the doors. She sighed in relief, the happiness from the night still very much alive in her sleepy body.

“Oi,” Levi said, nudging her leg from the sofa. “Four-eyes, wake up, you can take my bed.”

“I don’t wannaaaa,” Hange whined, shaking her head and turning to her side. “It’s your bed. I’m fine with the couch.”

Levi rolled his eyes at Hange but tossed a pillow in her direction anyways. She caught it with her face, ungracefully, and pouted at him in annoyance.

“Boo,” she groaned, slumping into the couch.

A small smile made its way to Levi’s face as he turned off the lights, allowing the Commander to drift into a blissful slumber.

There is blood dripping from her fingers and she knows it’s not her own.

She grips the shaking body closer to her, praying that the warmth emanating from his form would not leave him anytime soon.

She pulls him gently to the shore, dragging her own beaten and battered body away from the water. Her lips were quivering as she whispered, “You better not die on me. Please,” she almost begs, “don’t die on me.”

She repeats these words like a mantra, over and over again, until the body’s bleeding stops and the blood dries from her fingers.

The ground underneath her palm feels rough. Occasionally, she checks on him, observing as the covers rise and fall with his breathing.

She sighs. “What if we run away?” she asks, desperation laced in her tone. “What if we stay in the forest and live here forever, Levi?”

She says these words as if there is no war. As if she wasn’t on a one-way trip to her death. She’s desperate, she knows, but there would be no point in living in a world without her friends, no world without Levi . . .

She blinks, and suddenly she is surrounded by a mountain range of rubble. There is a pressure against her chest.

“Dedicate your heart,” she hears, and tears begin to well from the edges of her eyes.

There is silence, and the sound of footsteps lingers in her ears before she decides to turn around to see him one last time.

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard you say that, Levi!” she shouts in an attempt to leave him a memory of her happy moments before her inevitable death.

She is zipping through the air once more, the gear around her waist heavy. There is steam all around her, excreting a heat that seemed to penetrate into her skin like needles.

As she takes one last look at the towering titans below her, she smiles.

“Titans really are . . . beautiful.”

“Hange!”

She awoke with a start, her forehead lined with sweat and tears in her eyes. Suddenly everything is clear; she didn’t rely on one eye to see. Hange could hear her rapid breathing, her loud heartbeat against her ears, and the ache in her chest. She looks around frantically, trying to locate where she was.

“You okay?”

Levi was kneeling beside her in concern, his hand holding one of her own in a tight grip. As if she would disappear from in front of him should he let go.

Her lips were still shaking, the sweat on her skin almost cold to the touch. She shivered briefly, before closing her eyes once more and allowing the tears to flow free.

It had all felt so real. The fire that scorched her clothes, eating her alive. The burns that ran so deep she became numb to the pain. The feeling of life leaving her tortured body.

She’s brought back to reality with Levi’s gentle whisper. “Hange?” he said softly, as he wiped her tears with his thumb gently, his touch soothing against her face.

He knows, she thought, stealing a glance from his face. He is patient, merely waiting for her to speak once she gets over her own grief.

“Levi?” she finally dared to say, reaching out to hold his face in between her palms. “Is it really you?”

“Yes,” he replied, placing his hands over hers and staring straight into her eyes. “It’s me.”

“I thought I was—you were—”

“No,” he interrupted her, shaking his head. “You’re alive,” he told her.

Hange sobbed immediately, her hands shaking as she began to let go of him. The warmth of the room is nowhere near searing, the gentle light that streamed into the sofa was not a blaze of fire, and Levi—

Levi is alive and well, face free from suffering and eyes glistening with hope.

He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her face to the crook of his neck and holding her tight. Hange cried into him, her lips whispering “I’m alive” over and over against his skin. He held her tighter in response, burying his fingers into her hair and running a hand over her back to soothe her tears.

They stayed like that until dawn finally broke, paving the way for the rise of the morning sun, as the stars disappeared from the orange sky and the birds sang their morning hymns.

[itzallconfetti]

“WE’RE ALL JUST THE SAME - WHAT A SHAME”

INTRODUCING…

NAME: Ramona Colette Sari

GENDER & PREFERRED PRONOUNS: Cis woman {She/Her}

AGE: 28

BIRTHDAY: September 10, 1994

ZODIAC: Virgo Sun, Gemini Moon, Aries Rising

SEXUALITY: Bisexual {Fem preference}

FACE CLAIM: Lulu Antariksa

LABEL: The Protagonist

OCCUPATION: Crime Analyst (Outreach Unit of CMPD)

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Downtown

CHARACTER PLAYLIST: HERE.

UP NEXT: “1980S HORROR FILM” BY WALLOWS

BIOGRAPHY: TW DEATH, CSI EFFECT, FIRE, WRONGLY CONVICTED

Ramona grew up in Cape May, and never suffered a hatred for her hometown like most angsty teens usually did. Her lower middle-class household never made her feel deprived of anything; her mother a teacher at the elementary school, whilst her father was chief of police. Her parents were both supportive as well as caring - even with her father’s obscure hours. She was more of a father’s girl, not only glued to his side during her earlier years of life, but also seeing him as her role model even up to today.

The woman instantly took an interest in the criminal justice career path, as well as women’s advocacy; dressing up as Rosie the Reveter, as well as firefighters and cops alike for halloween growing up. Ramona was always one to be a voice for people who struggled to use theirs, or no one listened to them. Ramona was always a strong advocate for doing the right thing, even getting into fights throughout her younger years in order to help others. Ramona wound up leaving Cape May for her college years, with the push from her parents and was able to earn her BA in Criminology and Forensic Science.

Though Ramona favored this time in her life, seeing all her hard work pay off - her father was lost in a fire. It broke the young woman when she heard the news, but used that pain to help fuel her in her own career path; instantly attempting to fill in his shoes. She worked on the mainland as part of their SVU unit, consistently taking on more than she can handle in order to be taken seriously in the male-dominant field as she was gunning for a detective position. Always working by-the-book, she actually took a leap of faith when she wound up making the wrong call. No one is aware of her mess-up, seeing that she’s always been at the top of her game and her father was highly respected when he put in his time helping the community; basically making an innocent man go to jail for a crime he did not commit. It was due to the analysis of the fingerprints being faulty - but it was ultimately her gut that’s never failed her being off and her mind being fried from all the work. After the incident, she transferred to Cape May in order to be a crime analyst; both, giving her the fill of helping keep the community safe, whilst also ensuring she wasn’t going to make sure a huge mistake again.

EXTRA-EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT HER!

Being raised by her mother and father, Ramona has a strong sense of justice. She’s always the one you can count on to do the right thing, even if the choice is hard or leaves her with the short end of the stick. She loves crime shows, and also serial killer documentaries. Her love for true crime has made her the master of who-done-it scenarios, and she can figure out mystery movies within the first 15 minutes. This makes it easy for her to assume someone’s behavior, and she likes to particularly tease her friends by saying what they’re about to say - noting predictability. She also has a bit of a morbid sense of humor. Ramona is also very laidback, different from her usually tightly-wound self at work. When she’s sucked into something, just don’t intrude or she’ll snap at you. She has a tendency to be quite mean to men - this has a lot to do with her hatred of the patriarchy she lives in. There’s more of an inclining hatred towards the player-dude/bro types of men, and she’s quick to put them in their place. She also has a type of dislike towards the new money folk in Cape May; thinking they’re out of touch with Cape May’s values, as well as turning Cape May into more of a party city when it’s not in its foundation. Ramona is very outspoken and passionate when it comes to her beliefs, and she’s stubborn in them. Prone to being sarcastic, most people view her sarcasm as joking when it’s her voicing the truth. When being friends with Ramona, she’s really fun to be around; always down to do something as well as just stay in and throw a Netflix marathon. She’s always willing to help anyone out, and is someone that sticks by her group of friends in a protective manner. Definitely someone you’d want to have on your team, at the end of the day. That is, if you can handle her science facts. 

PERSONALITY:

+ Observant, Adroit, and Loyal

- Critical, Sarcastic, and Rigid