#forenses

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

The Best of FORUM, The International Journal of Human Relations - Volume 2, Number 7, April 1973 (cover illustration by Pierre Lacombe)

[criminologia-criminalistica-sz]

Área del Conocimiento

Modalidad: Cuatrimestral

Duración: Tres años

Título que otorga: Licenciado (a) en Criminología y Criminalística.

Mi área: ciencias sociales y de la información

Licenciatura Criminología y Criminalística

Objetivo general del programa de estudio: Formar especialistas en las disciplinas Criminología y Criminalística que contribuyan a mejorar la seguridad pública, la procuración e impartición de justicia, así como la readaptación de los delincuentes.

Perfil de ingreso

El aspirante deberá tener interés por la justicia, capacidad de análisis, disposición humanista.

Poseer habilidades para el estudio de casos, la observación y resolución.

Perfil de Egreso

El egresado mediante la aplicación de herramientas teóricas-metodológicas utilizara la investigación en situaciones delictivas para la resolución de problemas relacionados con la política criminal, estadísticas, victimología, administración penitenciaria, con compromiso frente a las necesidades sociales.

Habilidades y Actitudes

Contribuir en tiempo y forma con los compromisos y obligaciones que tiene el estado para brindar a la ciudadanía una óptima segunda pública, una eficaz investigación de los delitos, la eficiente persecución de los delincuentes, así como la correcta readaptación social de los transgresores de la ley.

Campo Laboral

Procuradurías Generales de Justicia.

Secretarías de Seguridad pública.

Instituciones Hospitalarias y bancarias.

Policía ministerial.

Centros de Investigación Jurídica.

Docente e Investigador Universitario.

[ryan-sometimes]

You know how transphobes often say things like “When they dig up your bones in the future, they’re gonna see your sex, not your gender”?

That’s actually not quite accurate. The most common bone used to identify sex is the pelvis, which is in fact quite static and remains relatively unchanged after puberty. However, the chest is quite flexible, and changes often throughout a person’s life due to several activities. And the chest is also used for sex identification of human remains.

Many lifestyle changes affect the structure of your chest, such as weightlifting, javelin throwing, and… hormone replacement therapy! Estrogen and testosterone supplements change the chest in ways that are closer to a person of your gender identity, to the extent that a forensic scientist could potentially identify you as transgender simply looking at your bones.

Trans people have trans skeletons!

[irishyuri]

these were such fun warmups lmao COWBOY AU (briefly) BACK ONLINE ‼️‼️

[digitalfossils]

[thelesbianthespianposts]

hey btw every time you dumb down a superhero in order to make the resident Bat look smarter an angel fucking dies

[jeena-says-hi]

Ok but imagine Hannibal wearing this when he shows up to the latest murder

[not-psychotic]

[scipunk]

The Animatrix (2003) - A Detective Story

[codemonki]

I don't care if this trend was from last year

[faedastudies]

09.05.2024

.

! just a friendly reminder to look after yourself !

I am officially caught up in forensics and have 4 hours before my practical starts and I cannot focus for the life of me. I really need to study human anatomy but my brain cannot handle anymore information.

I thought I’d show off todays plans too

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

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

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

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

"Robbie?"

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

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

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

"Criminalistics?"

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

"Wow that’s…really?"

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

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

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

"Oh god, what is it?"

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're correct."

Eddie blinks again, "Who're you?"

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

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

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

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

"Oh have you?" he smirks.

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

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

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

His expression softens just a bit.

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

"Oh?"

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

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

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

[localgardenweed]

One last kiss before he plummets to earth to die or whatever

[pratchettquotes]

Hour after hour, it went on, with a patience that at first terrified and then bored. It was the warfare of clerks, and it harried the enemy through many columns and files. Moist could read words that weren't there, but the clerks found the numbers that weren't there, or were there twice, or were there but going the wrong way. They didn't hurry. Peel away the lies, and the truth would emerge, naked and ashamed and with nowhere else to hide.

Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

[unreversedumbrella]

I know the show runners of MAWS want to focus on the superman mythos (and I agree) but if i were to choose one hero to make a cameo it'd be the flash only because i think the superman v flash race is the kind of silly fun this series has going for it

[lesinquietes]

Summary: Dynamight can’t seem to focus on his duties with a pretty little thing like you taking your sweet time scoping the crime scene.

Adult!Bakugou x Forensic Detective!Reader

⚠️ fluff. violence.

l Next l

You’re trying to gather a sample of blood for evidence and he’s standing behind you with his arms crossed, jabbing at his teeth with a little wooden pick. When he’s done his idle activity, he tosses the pick in the trash. At least he’s meticulous about keeping the crime scene uncontaminated… for the most part.

“You done yet, princess?”

You purse your lips. If this was the first handful of times he used the pet name, you might have corrected him. It’s clear, at this point, that he doesn’t care to respect your wishes, so you elect to ignore him. Unfortunately, he seems to have a chip on his shoulder.

“Hey. You hear me?”

And you ponder to yourself, who the fuck do you think you are? because never, in your four years of being a forensic detective, have you dealt with a hero who acted like this.

You snap your head around to glare at him. When he greets you with a cocky grin — a very made you look expression — you want nothing more than to throw the victim’s keys at his face. Dynamight. You heard he helped save the world from All For One’s return, years ago, when the world was abandoning hope. You don’t doubt that his involvement is true, but surely his personality should have matured since then.

“Do I look done to you?” You ask rhetorically, latex gloves strapped to your elbows and vibrant eyes hidden behind thick lenses. “It’s only been half an hour.”

Bakugou’s grin widens upon getting a good look at you. You think he’s going to laugh. He’s seems like one of those jock types that still bullies because he never grew out of it. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t do anything of the sort. Instead, he sighs and walks over to you.

Normally, you would tell him to back away from the scene, but the words of caution catch in your throat. His sharp auburn eyes are boring into yours. There’s a spark on amusement dancing in the depths of his irises, though it’s the other emotion that catches your attention: curiosity. Perhaps this blunt hero has some semblance of professional focus, after all.

“Exactly. Half an hour. We could’ve gotten this shit done in five minutes.”

You roll your eyes. Forget what you thought. He just wants to go home. Well, if that’s the case, you can put him to work.

“Make yourself useful and hold this device for me.”

You shove the item into his hand. He grasps it instinctively. You don’t hear any complaints.

While you swab for a solid sample of the victim’s blood, he waits idly next to you, silently studying your process. He observes your craft with respect, knowing heroes can’t do their jobs as well without your role. His younger self — who so visibly struggled with disobeying any form of authority — might have roofed the device after it was forced upon him. He’ll hold onto it for you. At least it looks like you’re being thorough with the case.

But as the sequence goes on, he finds his gaze drifting to your features. He’s immune to a lot of things, but not pretty women.

You catch him when you finish your task. He’s swift to glance away. Oblivious to his fascination, you smirk.

“Didn’t know you were interested in forensics.”

He snorts.

“I ain’t. I’m interested in you.”

And he doesn’t miss how you bite your lips to stop yourself from smiling.