#postmortem examination

[jasper-rolls]

Song: Demise Artist: Jerico Album: Postmortem Examination Circle: ジェリコの法則 (Jerico's Law)

[aranyaani]

this was extremely educational. I didn't even know we have more than 1 smriti 💀

[forensicfield]

Forensic Science E-Magazine (Aug-Sept 2023)

We proudly present the Aug-Sept issue (Vol 17) of your favorite magazine, Forensic Science E-Magazine. As usual, the magazine's current issue has helpful content related to forensic science. --------- #forensicsciencemagazine #forensicfield #crimescene

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Autopsy

Autopsy - dissection and examination of a dead body and its organs and structures.

The word autopsy is derived from the Greek autopsia, meaning “the act of seeing for oneself.”

Also known as: necropsy, postmortem, postmortem examination

Why is an autopsy done?

To determine the cause of death

When a suspicious or unexpected death occurs

To observe the effects of disease; when there's a public health concern, such as an outbreak with an undetermined cause

To establish the evolution and mechanisms of disease processes

When no doctor knows the deceased well enough to state a cause of death and to sign the death certificate

When the doctor, the family or legally responsible designee of the deceased person requests an autopsy

Who does the autopsy?

Autopsies ordered by the state can be done by a county coroner, who is not necessarily a doctor

A medical examiner who does an autopsy is a doctor, usually a pathologist

Clinical autopsies are always done by a pathologist

How is an autopsy done?

After the patient is pronounced dead by a physician, the body is wrapped in a sheet or shroud and transported to the morgue, where it is held in a refrigeration unit until the autopsy.

Autopsies are rarely performed at night.

Autopsy practice was largely developed in Germany, and an autopsy assistant is traditionally honored with the title "diener", which is German for "helper".

The prosector and diener wear fairly simple protective equipment, including scrub suits, gowns, gloves (typically two pair), shoe covers, and clear plastic face shields.

The body is identified and lawful consent obtained.

The procedure is done with respect and seriousness.

The prevailing mood in the autopsy room is curiosity, scientific interest, and pleasure at being able to find the truth and share it.

Most pathologists choose their specialty, at least in part, because they like finding the real answers.

Many autopsy services have a sign, "This is the place where death rejoices to help those who live." Usually it is written in Latin ("Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae").

EXTERNAL EXAMINATION

The prosector checks to make sure that the body is that of the patient named on the permit by checking the toe tag or patient wristband ID.

The body is placed on the autopsy table.

Experienced dieners, even those of slight build, can transfer even obese bodies from the carriage to the table without assistance.

Since the comfort of the patient is no longer a consideration, this transfer is accomplished with what appears to the uninitiated a rather brutal combination of pulls and shoves, not unlike the way a thug might manhandle a mugging victim.

The body is measured.

Large facilities may have total-body scales, so that a weight can be obtained.

The autopsy table is a waist-high aluminum fixture that is plumbed for running water and has several faucets and spigots to facilitate washing away all the blood that is released during the procedure.

Older hospitals may still have porcelain or even marble tables.

The autopsy table is basically a slanted tray (for drainage) with raised edges (to keep blood and fluids from flowing onto the floor).

After the body is positioned, the diener places a "body block" under the patient's back. This rubber or plastic brick-like appliance causes the chest to protrude outward and the arms and neck to fall back, thus allowing the maximum exposure of the trunk for the incisions.

Abnormalities of the external body surfaces are then noted and described, either by talking into a voice recorder or making notes on a diagram and/or checklist.

OPENING THE TRUNK

The diener takes a large scalpel and makes the incision in the trunk. This is a Y-shaped incision. The arms of the Y extend from the front of each shoulder to the bottom end of the breast bone (called the xiphoid process of the sternum). In women, these incisions are diverted beneath the breasts, so the "Y" has curved, rather than straight, arms. The tail of the Y extends from the xiphoid process to the pubic bone and typically makes a slight deviation to avoid the umbilicus (navel). The incision is very deep, extending to the rib cage on the chest, and completely through the abdominal wall below that.

With the Y incision made, the next task is to peel the skin, muscle, and soft tissues off the chest wall. This is done with a scalpel. When complete, the chest flap is pulled upward over the patient's face, and the front of the rib cage and the strap muscles of the front of the neck lie exposed. Human muscle smells not unlike raw lamb meat in my opinion. At this point of the autopsy, the smells are otherwise very faint.

An electric saw or bone cutter (which looks a lot like curved pruning shears) is used to open the rib cage. One cut is made up each side of the front of the rib cage, so that the chest plate, consisting of the sternum and the ribs which connect to it, are no longer attached to the rest of the skeleton. The chest plate is pulled back and peeled off with a little help of the scalpel, which is used to dissect the adherent soft tissues stuck to the back of the chest plate. After the chest plate has been removed, the organs of the chest (heart and lungs) are exposed (the heart is actually covered by the pericardial sac).

Before disturbing the organs further, the prosector cuts open the pericardial sac, then the pulmonary artery where it exits the heart. He sticks his finger into the hole in the pulmonary artery and feels around for any thromboembolus (a blood clot which has dislodged from a vein elsewhere in the body, traveled through the heart to the pulmonary artery, lodged there, and caused sudden death. This is a common cause of death in hospitalized patients).

The abdomen is further opened by dissecting the abdominal muscle away from the bottom of the rib cage and diaphragm. The flaps of abdominal wall fall off to either side, and the abdominal organs are now exposed.

REMOVING THE ORGANS OF THE TRUNK

The most typical method of organ removal is called the "Rokitansky method." This is not unlike field dressing a deer. The dissection begins at the neck and proceeds downward, so that eventually all the organs of the trunk are removed from the body in one bloc.

The first thing the diener does is to identify the carotid and subclavian arteries in the neck and upper chest. He ties a long string to each and then cuts them off, so that the ties are left in the body. This allows the mortician to more easily find the arteries for injection of the embalming fluids.

A cut is them made above the larynx, detaching the larynx and esophagus from the pharynx. The larynx and trachea are then pulled downward, and the scalpel is used to free up the remainder of the chest organs from their attachment at the spine.

The diaphragm is cut away from the body wall, and the abdominal organs are pulled out and down.

Finally, all of the organs are attached to the body only by the pelvic ligaments, bladder, and rectum.

A single slash with the scalpel divides this connection, and all of the organs are now free in one block. The diener hands this organ bloc to the prosector. The prosector takes the organ bloc to a dissecting table (which is often mounted over the patient's legs) and dissects it. Meanwhile, the diener proceeds to remove the brain.

Another method is called Virchow method, which entails removing organs individually.

EXAMINATION OF THE ORGANS OF THE TRUNK

At the dissection table, the prosector typically dissects and isolates the esophagus from the rest of the chest organs. This is usually done simply by pulling it away without help of a blade (a technique called "blunt dissection"). The chest organs are then cut away from the abdominal organs and esophagus with scissors. The lungs are cut away from the heart and trachea and weighed, then sliced like loaves of bread into slices about one centimeter thick. A long (12" - 18"), sharp knife, called a "bread knife" is used for this.

The heart is weighed and opened along the pathway of normal blood flow using the bread knife or scissors. Old-time pathologists look down on prosectors who open the heart with scissors, rather than the bread knife, because, while the latter takes more skill and care, it is much faster and gives more attractive cut edges than when scissors are used. The coronary arteries are examined by making numerous crosscuts with a scalpel.

The larynx and trachea are opened longitudinally from the rear and the interior examined. The thyroid gland is dissected away from the trachea with scissors, weighed, and examined in thin slices. Sometimes the parathyroid glands are easy to find, other times impossible.

The bloc containing the abdominal organs is turned over so that the back side is up. The adrenal glands are located in the fatty tissue over the kidneys (they are sometimes difficult to find) and are removed, weighed, sliced, and examined by the prosector.

The liver is removed with scissors from the rest of the abdominal organs, weighed, sliced with a bread knife, and examined. The spleen is similarly treated.

The intestines are stripped from the mesentery using scissors (the wimpy method) or bread knife (macho method). The intestines are then opened over a sink under running water, so that all the feces and undigested food flow out. As one might imagine, this step is extremely malodorous. The resultant material in the sink smells like a pleasant combination of feces and vomitus. The internal (mucosal) surface of the bowel is washed off with water and examined. It is generally the diener's job to "run the gut," but usually a crusty, senior diener can intimidate a young first- year resident prosector into doing this ever-hated chore. Basically, whichever individual has the least effective steely glare of disdain is stuck with running the gut.

The stomach is then opened along its greater curvature. If the prosector is lucky, the patient will have not eaten solid food in a while. If not, the appearance of the contents of the stomach will assure the prosector that he will not be eating any stews or soups for a long time. In either case, the smell of gastric acid is unforgettable.

The pancreas is removed from the duodenum, weighed, sliced and examined. The duodenum is opened longitudinally, washed out, and examined internally. The esophagus is similarly treated.

The kidneys are removed, weighed, cut lengthwise in half, and examined. The urinary bladder is opened and examined internally. In the female patient, the ovaries are removed, cut in half, and examined. The uterus is opened along either side (bivalved) and examined. In the male, the testes are typically not removed if they are not enlarged. If it is necessary to remove them, they can be pulled up into the abdomen by traction on the spermatic cord, cut off, cut in half, and examined.

The aorta and its major abdominal/pelvic branches (the renal, celiac, mesenteric, and iliac arteries) are opened longitudinally and examined.

Most of the organs mentioned above are sampled for microscopic examination. Sections of the organs are cut with a bread knife or scalpel and placed in labeled plastic cassettes. Each section is the size of a postage stamp or smaller and optimally about three millimeters in thickness. The cassettes are placed in a small jar of formalin for fixation. They are then "processed" in a machine that overnight removes all the water from the specimens and replaces it with paraffin wax. Permanent microscopic sections (five microns, or one two-hundredth of a millimeter thick) can be cut from these paraffin sections, mounted on glass slides, stained, coverslipped, and examined microscopically. The permanent slides are usually kept indefinitely, but must be kept for twenty years minimum.

Additional small slices of the major organs are kept in a "save jar," typically a one-quart or one-pint jar filled with formalin. Labs keep the save jar for a variable length of time, but at least until the case is "signed out" (i.e., the final written report is prepared). Some labs keep the save jar for years. All tissues that are disposed of are done so by incineration.

A note on dissection technique: All of the above procedures are done with only four simple instruments -- a scalpel, the bread knife, scissors, and forceps (which most medical people call "pick-ups." Only scriptwriters say "forceps"). The more handy the prosector, the more he relies on the bread knife, sometimes making amazingly delicate cuts with this long, unwieldy-looking blade. The best prosectors are able to make every cut with one long slicing action. To saw back and forth with the blade leaves irregularities on the cut surface which are often distracting on specimen photographs. So the idea is to use an extremely sharp, long blade that can get through a 2000-gram liver in one graceful slice. Some old-time purist pathologists actually maintain their own bread knives themselves and let no one else use them. Such an individual typically carries it around in his briefcase in a leather sheath. This would make an excellent fiction device, which, to my knowledge, has not been used. Imagine a milquetoast pathologist defending himself from a late-night attacker in the lab, with one desperate but skillful slash of the bread knife almost cutting the assailant in half!

Note on the appearance of the autopsy suite: Toward the end of the autopsy procedure, the room is not a pretty sight. Prosectors vary markedly in how neat they keep the dissection area while doing the procedure. It is legendary that old-time pathologists were so neat that they'd perform the entire procedure in a tux (no apron) right before an evening at the opera (pathologists are noted for their love of classical music and fine art). Modern prosectors are not this neat. Usually, the autopsy table around the patient is covered with blood, and it is very difficult not to get some blood on the floor. We try to keep blood on the floor to a minimum, because this is a slippery substance that can lead to falls. The hanging meat scales used to weigh the organs are usually covered with or dripping with blood. The chalk that is used to write organ weights on the chalkboard is also smeared with blood, as may be the chalkboard itself. This is an especially unappetizing juxtaposition.

Another example using the Virchow method:

After the intestines are mobilized, they may be opened using special scissors.

Inspecting the brain often reveals surprises. A good pathologist takes some time to do this.

The pathologist examines the heart, and generally the first step following its removal is sectioning the coronary arteries that supply the heart with blood. There is often disease here, even in people who believed their hearts were normal.

After any organ is removed, the pathologist will save a section in preservative solution. Of course, if something looks abnormal, the pathologist will probably save more. The rest of the organ goes into a biohazard bag, which is supported by a large plastic container.

The pathologist weighs the major solid organs (heart, lungs, brain, kidneys, liver, spleen, sometimes others) on a grocer's scale.

The smaller organs (thyroid, adrenals) get weighed on a chemist's triple-beam balance.

The next step in the abdominal dissection will be exploring the bile ducts and then freeing up the liver. The pathologist uses a scalpel or other similar tool.

After weighing the heart, the pathologist completes the dissection. There are a variety of ways of doing this, and the choice will depend on the case. If the pathologist suspects a heart attack, a long knife may be the best choice.

In the example: The liver is removed. The pathologist finds something important. It appears that the man had a fatty liver. It is too light, too orange, and a bit too big. Perhaps this man had been drinking heavily for a while.

The pathologist decides to remove the neck organs, large airways, and lungs in one piece. This requires careful dissection. The pathologist always examines the neck very carefully.

The liver in this example weighs much more than the normal 1400 gm.

The lungs are almost never normal at autopsy. In the example, the lungs are pink, because the dead man was a non-smoker. The pathologist will inspect and feel them for areas of pneumonia and other abnormalities.

The liver is cut at intervals of about a centimeter, using a long knife. This enables the pathologist to examine its inner structure.

The pathologist weighs both lungs together, then each one separately. Afterwards, the lungs may get inflated with fixative.

The rest of the team continues with the removal of the other organs. They may decide to take the urinary system as one piece, and the digestive system down to the small intestine as another single piece. This will require careful dissection.

One pathologist holds the esophagus, stomach, pancreas, duodenum, and spleen. He opens these, and may save a portion of the gastric contents to check for poison.

Another pathologist holds the kidneys, ureters, and bladder. Sometimes these organs will be left attached to the abdominal aorta. The pathologist opens all these organs and examine them carefully.

Dissecting the lungs can be done in any of several ways. All methods reveal the surfaces of the large airways, and the great arteries of the lungs.

Most pathologists use the long knife again while studying the lungs. The air spaces of the lungs will be evaluated based on their texture and appearance.

Before the autopsy is over, the brain is usually suspended in fixative for a week so that the later dissection will be clean, neat, and accurate.

If no disease of the brain is suspected, the pathologist may cut the brain fresh.

The kidneys are weighed before they are dissected.

It is the pathologist's decision as to whether to open the small intestine and/or colon. If they appear normal on the outside, there is seldom significant pathology on the inside.

One pathologist prepares the big needle and thread used to sew up the body.

When the internal organs have been examined, the pathologist may return all but the tiny portions that have been saved to the body cavity. Or the organs may be cremated without being returned.

The appropriate laws, and the wishes of the family, are obeyed.

The breastbone and ribs are usually replaced in the body.

The skull and trunk incisions are sewed shut ("baseball stitch").

The body is washed and is then ready to go to the funeral director.

These notes do not show all the steps of an autopsy, but will give you the general idea. 

During the autopsy, there may be photographers, evidence technicians, police, hospital personnel, and others.

In the example, the pathologists submit the tissue they saved to the histology lab, to be made into microscopic slides.

When these are ready, they will examine the sections, look at the results of any lab work, and draw their final conclusions.

The only finding in this sample autopsy was fatty liver. There are several ways in which heavy drinking, without any other disease, can kill a person. The pathologists will rule each of these in or out, and will probably be able to give a single answer to the police or family.

CLOSING UP AND RELEASING THE BODY

After all the above procedures are performed, the body is now an empty shell, with no larynx, chest organs, abdominal organs, pelvic organs, or brain. The front of the rib cage is also missing. The scalp is pulled down over the face, and the whole top of the head is gone. Obviously, this is not optimal for lying in state in public view. The diener remedies this problem. First, the calvarium is placed back on the skull (the brain is not replaced), the scalp pulled back over the calvarium, and the wound sewn up with thick twine using the type of stitch used to cover baseballs. The wound is now a line that goes from behind the ears over the back of the skull, so that when the head rests on a pillow in the casket, the wound is not visible.

The empty trunk looks like the hull of a ship under construction, the prominent ribs resembling the corresponding structural members of the ship. In many institutions, the sliced organs are just poured back into the open body cavity. In other places, the organs are not replaced but just incinerated at the facility. In either case, the chest plate is placed back in the chest, and the body wall is sewn back up with baseball stitches, so that the final wound again resembles a "Y."

The diener rinses the body off with a hose and sponge, covers it with a sheet, and calls the funeral home for pick- up. As one might imagine, if the organs had not been put back in the body, the whole trunk appears collapsed, especially the chest (since the chest plate was not firmly reattached to the ribs). The mortician must then remedy this by placing filler in the body cavity to re-expand the body to roughly normal contours.

Ultimately, what is buried/cremated is either 1) the body without a brain and without any chest, abdominal, or pelvic organs, or 2) the body without a brain but with a hodgepodge of other organ parts in the body cavity.

FINISHING UP

After the funeral home has been called, the diener cleans up the autopsy suite with a mop and bucket, and the prosector finishes up the notes and/or dictation concerning the findings of the "gross exam" (the part of the examination done with the naked eye and not the microscope; this use of the term "gross" is not a value judgement but a direct German translation of "big" as opposed to "microscopic").

For some odd reason, many prosectors report increased appetite after an autopsy, so the first thing they want to do afterwards is grab a bite to eat.

The whole procedure in experienced hands, assuming a fairly straightforward case and no interruptions, has taken about two hours.

Complicated cases requiring detailed explorations and special dissections (e.g., exploring the bile ducts, removing the eyes or spinal cord) may take up to four hours.

AFTER THE AUTOPSY

Days to weeks later, the processed microscopic slides are examined by the attending pathologist, who renders the final diagnoses and dictates the report.

A final report is ready in a month or so. The glass slides and a few bits of tissue are kept forever, so that other pathologists can review the work.

Only the pathologist can formally issue the report, even if he or she was not the prosector (i.e., the prosector was a resident, PA, or med student).

The report is of variable length but almost always runs at least three pages. It may be illustrated with diagrams that the prosector draws from scratch or fills in on standard forms with anatomical drawings.

The Joint Commission for the Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations (JCAHO), which certifies hospitals, requires the final report to be issued within sixty days of the actual autopsy.

The College of American Pathologists, which certifies medical laboratories, requires that this be done in thirty days.

Nevertheless, pathologists are notorious for tardiness in getting the final report out, sometimes resulting in delays of years.

Perhaps the non-compensated nature of autopsy practice has something to do with this. Pathologists are otherwise very sensitive to turnaround times.

THE BRAIN-CUTTING

The examiner returns to the brain left suspended in a big jar of formalin for a few weeks. After the brain is "fixed," it has the consistency and firmness of a ripe avocado.

Before fixation, the consistency is not unlike that of three-day- old refrigerated, uncovered Jello.

Infant brains can be much softer than that before fixation, even as soft as a flan dessert warmed to room temperature, or worse, custard pie filling. Such a brain may be difficult or impossible to hold together and can fall apart as one attempts to remove it from the cranium.

Assuming good fixation of an adult brain, it is removed from the formalin and rinsed in a running tap water bath for several hours to try to cut down on the discomforting, eye-irritating, possibly carcinogenic formalin vapors.

The cerebrum is severed from the rest of the brain (brainstem and cerebellum) by the prosector with a scalpel.

The cerebellum is severed from the brainstem, and each is sliced and laid out on a tray for examination.

The cerebrum is sliced perpendicularly to its long axis and laid out to be examined.

Sections for microscopic processing are taken, as from the other organs, and a few slices are held in "save jars."

The remainder of the brain slices is incinerated.

Sources: 1 2 3 4

If these notes help with your poem/story, do tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

[whenanafallsinlove]

UNDER INVESTIGATION; SHOTO TODOROKI X FEM READER CH. 1: STARTING LINE || series m.list Summary: As a forensic medical examiner, you are used to working alongside the police, but a concerning case calls for the aid of a pro-hero. When Shoto shows up, the time you spend together makes you realise that the case is not the only thing you would like to solve. Maybe what you start to feel needs to go under investigation too. Warnings: crime, violence, discrimination Tags:  prohero au, fem reader, aged up characters, romance + crime, multichapter WC: 4k

It has been a few minutes since the small meeting took place. It concluded with you agreeing to send the autopsies’ reports as soon as you had them. You also agreed to examine each body’s lab results to see if you could find any additional indicators that the three people had died under equal circumstances.

The intention of the meeting was barely a precaution—to advise the police with your opinion as a forensic. As of now, you have no clue how they are handling the investigation or if they have even considered the possibility of these being victims of a murder.

Your supervisor waited for the other two men to leave the room before speaking.

“(Y/L/N), do you really think there is someone behind all this?” His arms cross his chest questioningly.

“I know it is early to assume anything-”

“You know there is no space for assuming in our field.” He interrupts you, and you need to breathe deeply to avoid snapping.

“Yes, I know,” you sigh. “But there is something very wrong about this. Like I said, the three corpses were all at an early stage of postmortem when I examined them. None of them had a reason to decay so rapidly.”

He nodded and stared at his feet thoughtfully.

“Look, the police are currently packed with other minor cases. They are asking Hero Agencies to fill in with the investigations to catch bigger criminals.” He paused to make sure you were following. “During the call, you seemed convinced that this was critical, so they decided to send Shoto. But I need you to be positive that these deaths are related somehow; we cannot make neither the police nor Shoto waste their time.”

You felt almost offended. It was natural for your supervisor to question your work and encourage you to grow. But this felt like he was doubting your years of study and hard work. As if he hadn’t taught you most of the things you currently know.

You mentally scoff before answering.

“I can show you the pictures; I can show you the lab results that show that the bodies have the same mold type; and we can wait for the third lab to prove this too! I’m telling you, this is no coincidence! I took the toxicology tests!” You breathe to calm yourself. “Besides, you know the police think something is wrong too; you heard the detective. Why would they choose the number three hero if they didn’t? Just because I asked? I’m flattered!”

He raises an eyebrow at your tone, making you embarrassed for losing your temper.

“I trust you. I just wanted to confirm that you’re positive about this. As I said, the police are packed and no detectives are available, so I will have to assign you to work on the investigation with Shoto.”

“Me and Shoto? What about the detective that was just here?”

“He’s just a representative; if anything, he’s the busiest at the moment.”

“And who would lead the case?”

“You, of course. It’s time to put to use your criminology degree too.”

“I just got it, and it was merely to give better analysis on the autopsies…”

“(Y/L/N), are you taking the opportunity, or should I find someone else?” He sighs and pinches his nose with two fingers. He looks exasperated.

“Yeah, of course I am!” You say it with an indignant tone.

“Good. You can contact Shoto directly to discuss anything related to the investigation. I trust you’ll do good work?” You nod.

“You know I’ll do my best. Make sure you send me his contact.” You sound defeated, but in reality, you are thrilling with the situation in hand.

Your supervisor grins and walks to the door. Before closing it behind him, he speaks once again.

“And (Y/L/N)?”

“Yes?”

“Stop smiling so much at Shoto; it’s creepy.”

You blush at his comment and thank that no one is around to notice how embarrassed you feel.

It is almost nighttime by the time you make your way home. You take the train with a satisfied grin on your face; the conversation you had with your supervisor is still lingering in your mind. You flush in embarrassment at the memory, but the emotion is switched once again to excitement when you remember the case.

This is a huge opportunity for you. You have been working with your supervisor since your days as a medical intern. After getting to help with some cases, you decided to get a degree in criminology as well; you figured it would help you be better in your field. And even though this was not your first solo investigation, you had always treated minor affairs; the most common deaths were provoked by ‘incidental quirk usage’. A little tragic and funny, in your opinion.

But if your suspicions are correct, this is a major league case.

So now, you find yourself at home with a cup of coffee in hand and roaming once again through some of the lab results.

You read each parameter with detail, your eyes darting between the pages. Nothing catches your eye; everything seems normal outside the organs’ results, which present the same type of fungi in the three bodies.

Then, your phone buzzes, interrupting your analysis. You automatically check to see the notification, and your heart sinks a little when you read it.

An unknown number sent you a message.

[10:48 PM]

Unknown: Hey, this is Shoto. Your supervisor sent me your phone number, but I just want to check if it’s correct. Is this Dr. (Y/L/N)?

You stare at it for a few seconds before saving his number and typing back.

You: Yes! It is me!

You would like to respond to his messages with double the enthusiasm, but you remind yourself to be professional.

Shoto: Ok. Please contact me as soon as you have an update.

You: I already have some of the lab results. I’m currently going through them, so whenever you have time, we can schedule to meet. We need to discuss the investigation in general.

Shoto: I am free tomorrow around lunch. Is it alright for you?

You: Sure!

Shoto: Ok. See you tomorrow. Goodnight.

Just then, the tiredness and sleep deprivation that have been building in the past few days finally hit you. So, you decide it’s time to go to bed.

You wake up the next morning around 7 a.m. and start your daily routine. This is the most you have slept in the last week. As a forensic, you must be accustomed to irregular shifts. There are some things that cannot wait, and analyzing a body is one of them. A few hours can make the difference while searching for proof.

While you are having breakfast, you get a text from Shoto.

[9:03 AM]

Shoto: Good morning, Dr. (Y/L/N). I was wondering where you would want to meet for lunch.

“He texts like my grandpa.” You think and laugh to yourself.

You: Good morning, Shoto! I think somewhere private would be proper, since the information is supposed to be classified. Or somewhere not too busy!

Shoto: Ok. I’ll send you the location. Let’s meet at 12:00.

Shoto: [Attached Location]

You: Good, see you in a few hours! :)

It is still early, so you go through the paperwork once again, just to make sure all the reports are coherent with the lab results. There is a minor unease in the back of your mind; you feel a little anxious at the thought of messing up in your first important work. Besides, working closely with a top hero is not cooperating with your growing stress.

A few hours later, you arrive at his agency. You walk into the building and notice how big it is. There is a young man and an older woman seated at the reception. In the middle of the construction, there is a transparent elevator that connects all the floors. You start to walk towards the workplace cafeteria, where Shoto had asked you to meet. He had given you some indications to avoid that you got lost, and you cannot be more grateful. As you enter the small food place, you find a free table and sit there, shuffling in your bag and grabbing your phone in case he texts.

“Hey, did you get here alright?” You hear Shoto’s voice and see him approaching you.

“Yes, thank you! I had never been here; it’s very nice!” you say, and he grins politely at your compliment.

“Do you want something to eat before we get to work? It’s on me.”

“Uh, sure! I’ll have whatever you have!” He nods and walks towards the cafeteria counter.

A couple of minutes later, he comes back with two plates of soba. It looks and smells amazing, and your stomach growls.

“Thanks, it looks really good!”

“I wasn’t sure if you liked soba, so I brought a couple of pork buns too.” He seems indifferent when he says this, but you still feel grateful.

“I appreciate it.” You smile and decide to go straight to the work talk. “So, have they given you all the investigation paperwork?” You ask as you start to eat.

“Yes, but it doesn’t have a lot of information since it is all recent.” He says and you nod in understanding.

“Do you have it with you?” you ask.

“All the files are on my computer. After we have lunch, we can go to my office and check all the information we have together.”

“Sounds good.” You nod and give him a slight smile.

After that, none of you speak for a few minutes. You feel awkward as you hear some room chatter and cutlery sounds echoing in the background.

You search in your mind for topics you can talk about with Shoto, but your confidence in starting a conversation lessens every time you see his uninterested face. You know from the media that he is not very talkative, but he still has a great reputation for treating his fans and other civilians with respect. You look at him in an attempt to find the key to making him speak.

He suddenly looks up from his plate of soba and meets your gaze, quirking his brow in curiosity. You blush, feeling a wave of embarrassment for being caught, and then focus your eyes again on your own food.

Shoto is very interested in your personality. Yesterday, while you were in the morgue, you seemed very confident and eager to be heard, but right now, you are as quiet as a mouse. He doesn’t know if something is bothering you, so he decides to clear his throat and break the silence.

“What you were explaining yesterday was interesting.”

He sees how your face lights up, and he thinks you resemble a little kid that is given candy.

“Really? I thought you were going to pass out right there.” You chuckle at the memory.

“I was not. I don’t usually see corpses, so I was just taking it all in.” He shrugs while sinking back to his plate.

“Right.” You understand how impactful it is to see a scene like that for the first time. “You said it was your first time in a morgue; did you like it?” You offer an expectant smile, as if what you just asked was common.

Shoto thinks for a couple of seconds for the right words and then answers.

“Uhm- I mean, as a job it is intriguing, but I really expect it to be the only reason I’m ever there.” He scratches the back of his neck, with a thoughtful look.

“Yeah, I get it!” You say, while laughing at his unintended joke. You see how the corners of his lips shift to a small smile.

“Do you like it? Your job?” he asks.

“Yes! I always liked science as a kid, and when I got older, I started reading and watching a lot of crime stories. So, I chose a job where I can do both!”

“How are you capable of facing death so easily?”

You’re not taken aback by the question. People commonly ask you that when they learn what your job is, but it surprises you that he is engaging in the talk. Not that you’re complaining; you are a very talkative person.

“I mean, it’s not that it doesn’t affect me. I have seen terrible and heart-wrenching things, but I would rather think of the people that may be saved if I helped even the slightest from my lab. You’re a hero; you must know what I mean.”

He hums and nods in response, seemingly satisfied with your answer. After that, you fall back in silence for a while as you both finish your food. Then, you decide to ask him if he’s ready to chime into work.

"Well, do you-”

“Are you-”

You and Shoto speak at the same time, making the both of you blush at the awkwardness.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You ask first.

“I was going to ask if you were finished with your food so we could get to work.”

“Oh! Yeah, I��m finished. I was about to ask you the same thing.” You chuckle.

“Let’s go, then.” He gives a small smile.

You follow Shoto through the agency; he enters the elevator and presses the last button, apparently for the highest floor in the building. The elevator is made of glass, allowing you to admire the agency as you go up.

It takes a few seconds for the elevator to arrive, and when the door opens, you catch sight of the entire city through the big windows. It is an awesome view, but you get chills when you realize how far from the floor you are.

Before you can think any further, Shoto taps on your shoulder and tells you, “My office is over here.” Gesturing to a door at the end of the hall.

He starts to walk, and you go behind him. He shuffles in the bags of his pants, looking for his keys, and opens the door, moving to the side so you can enter first.

“Thanks.” You say, and he closes the door after getting in.

You turn to see the office; it is very neat and organized; it is very ordinary as well. There are some wooden shelves in the back, stuck up with decorations; there is a simple desk made of a similar wood; and three black leather chairs, one behind the desk and two in front.

“Let me move one of the chairs next to mine, so you can see the computer.” Shoto says, and soon enough he is carrying one of the chairs and placing it beside his.

You walk around the desk and take a seat, thanking Shoto once again. He nods and sits next to you; then, he turns the computer on and types a password that you swear is longer than a whole book chapter, so you start laughing.

He turns to look at you and asks, “Why are you laughing? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just that your password is very long! Sorry for prying, but I noticed you tapped like a whole sentence.” You keep laughing, and he just stares, confused. “How do you even remember that?”

“I just changed it today. I used to have just a pin, but you said that the files are supposed to be confidential, so I thought I was supposed to be more cautious. That’s why I locked my office too.” Shoto explained, still unamused and disconcerted.

“Oh.” Now you feel bad for laughing, but you find it a little adorable how serious Shoto is taking everything you say. “I guess it’s fine then; better safe than sorry,” and you smile at him.

He nods and smiles as well, then turns around and clicks around his files to find the one with all the information the police had collected. When it opens, you see that it’s just three pages of information, one for each person that was found.

You read through it and see that it’s just details of the victims and where and how they were found.

“Is it really just that?” You ask, a little disappointed and stressed about how you really are going to have to start from zero.

“And some photos, but I was waiting for you so we could see them.”

“Okay.” You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Where do you want to start? Should we read the files, the labs, or see the photos?”

Shoto notices how you tense up a little, so he figures you should start with the topic that you like the most.

“Let’s read the labs first.”

“Nice choice.” You grab the documents that you had in your bag and place them on the desk. “So… Did you understand everything I explained yesterday, or should we go over it again?”

“I got it after you explained it in a more universal language.” He says with a slight apologetic tone. You laugh slightly.

“Good! But, I guess I’ll have to give you a ‘Forensics Medicine 101’ as we go through the labs!” 

“Okay.” Shoto says, and shrugs.

“Wait, really? I was joking.”

“Only if you want. I think it is important for me to understand the case better.”

“Oh, okay. Take one of the labs; we’ll go through it together as I explain, then!”

Shoto nods and takes the document that is on top.

“Okay, so first things first. As a medical examiner, my job is to collect the proof that the body presents. I am in charge of the autopsies to determine the cause of death and other conditions that people may have been exposed to before and after dying.”

“And you do that only by watching the body?”

“Mostly, yes. There’s so much a body can say: the facial expressions, the placement of the body, the condition of the organs… But when there are signs of exposure to unnatural circumstances, we take samples of the body fluids for analysis.”

“And what made you think there was something unnatural about this?”

“Honestly, I was just taking the labs to confirm the time that the body had been deceased. At first, I thought the person had had some kind of terrible infection, but then the lab results did not check with the decomposition.”

“It’s what you were saying yesterday, right?”

“Yeah. And after that, a second and third bodies arrived with similar signs. So, I just got suspicious that something was wrong.” You shrug.

“I get it; I would have thought so too.” He says, and you feel glad that someone is on your side.

“Well, back to the labs. I took samples of everything, so we can go through each section.”

“Each section?”

“Yeah, you know; blood, hormones, organs, toxicology, DNA…”

“Oh, okay.” He nods.

You read each result with Shoto, explaining if anything was in or out of the parameters. This is like the hundredth time you have read these labs, so you almost know them by memory. As you explain, Shoto just nods or frowns, but he seems to understand most of it.

Then, you get to the last section, which was DNA. You are reading when Shoto interrupts you.

“You can see a person’s quirk in a DNA test?”

“Yes, of course! There are DNA tests that specialize in genealogical quirk trees!”

“And what does it mean if it says ‘n/e’?”

“What? Where did you see that?” Shoto extends the paper and points to the words he just read.

You seem suddenly agitated and grab the other two labs. You turn the pages straight to the DNA sections and gasp.

“I knew something was slipping from me!”

“What is happening?” Shoto asks.

“The three labs say ‘n/e’ in this section; ‘n/e’ means ‘non-existent’.” You take your hand to cover your mouth in a very pensive manner.

“I still don’t get it.”

“Shoto, none of these people had quirks. If a person is really behind this, they may be targeting quirkless people!”

You can physically see how the information dawns on Shoto. His lips part, and his eyes open in surprise. As you both process the new knowledge, the room goes silent for a while.

“Now what? What do we do with this information?” You ask with a nervous laugh.

“We should write it down, I guess.”

“I mean, obviously. But what I’m saying is that we should alert the population, right? We cannot let quirkless people roam around like everything is just fine!”

“But we cannot tell them either, at least not yet. We will only cause a mass panic.” Shoto's expression is stoic, in comparison to yours.

“And we let innocent people die while we figure it out?” Your tone is low, but accusative.

“For all we know, this person is not yet aware that we are investigating these murders. We already have a lead; we are on advantage.”

“I understand that, but I really think we should at least tell the police.”

“(Y/L/N), we are technically the police. But don’t worry; it is very uncommon nowadays to find people without a quirk. I’ll make the agency double the security in secluded areas; that should avoid that there’s another victim soon.”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath. “Sorry for panicking; this is my first case involving a possible serial killer; I don’t want to mess up!”

“It’s okay. You seem… passionate about your job.” Shoto says, and it makes you cackle.

“Let’s go back to the topic. I was thinking we could speak with someone who is specialized in fungi and quirks that involve mushrooms, like Shemage.”

“I know her; she was in my school. I can try to contact her.” Shoto says, with a thoughtful tone.

“Good!” You feel relieved to hear that someone might help you. You think that Shemage will be a great guide at understanding the killer’s quirk, which reduces the stress you were building.

After that, the two of you decide to continue reading the few information that was on the files, exchanging some commentary in between. As you go through the information, you write down the points you find the most important.

Start searching in the government’s quirk registration

Start an investigation for quirk extremists

Speak with Shemage

Speak with the victims’ families

The list of tasks seems simple; you and Shoto can do this. How difficult can it be?

a/n: eng is not my first language, excuse any mistakes! I hope you liked it, comment your thoughts! <3

TAGS: @miyamoratsumuu, @serxndipity-ipity-blog, @lauffey, @pretty-sparkle-bomb, @atashiboba, @the-hangry-otter

[spitblaze]

"This historical figure who was born as a woman and lived the rest of her life as a man isnt transgender and shes not a man she was an oppressed woman who pretended to be a man in order to pursue her dreams under intense patriarchy" listen i understand what the line of logic here is and i know that applying modern labels to figures who lived and died before these words and concepts were invented or popularized is a dangerous game but if this dude not only lived his life as a man but insisted that he be referred to as a man and went off on people who misgendered him and had an entire love life where all of his lovers would also refer to him as a man and was adamant that his body not be examined postmortem as so not to be retroactively defined by his genitals and wished to still be recognized as a man after his death i feel like at the very least you could respect his wishes to be referred to and seen as a man and leave the 'born female' thing to be an interesting tidbit at most instead of the fact about him you parade around

[petoskeystones]

19yo leading stoker john torrington... earliest death on the franklin expedition... the first of three canaries in the coalmine. they say he had the lungs of an 80 year old and the face of a very young man who was simply unconscious.

("canary in a coalmine" by the police + the grave of john torrington + the autopsy of john torrington by the university of alberta's dr. roger amy + "the last franklin expedition: report of a postmortem examination of a crew member" by dr. roger amy, dr. owen beattie, eric damkjar, and rakesh bhatnagar + "frozen in time" by dr. owen beattie and john geiger + "neurotoxic effects and biomarkers of lead exposure: a review" by talia sanders, yiming liu, virginia buchner, and paul b. tchounwou)

[entwinedmoon]

Since it's the 40th anniversary of Torrington's exhumation, I was wondering where do you find all the information regarding his exhumation and autopsy? As I think your research of him is incredible.

Thank you! A lot of my information comes from Frozen in Time by Owen Beattie and John Geiger, of course, but there are certain details that book leaves out. There's an official autopsy report for Torrington that was published under the title "The Last Franklin Expedition: Report of a Postmortem Examination of a Crew Member," and that's available online here. There was also an article that detailed the textile analysis of Torrington's clothes and other fabric found in the grave, "Textiles Collected during the Temporary Exhumation of a Crew Member from the Third Franklin Expedition: Findings and Analysis" by Barbara F. Schweger and Nancy Kerr. However, that article has not been made available online. Luckily I was able to request a copy from the publisher. That article has a lot of little details Beattie never mentioned in any of his articles or books, such as Torrington's shirt tearing.

I think those are the main three sources I use, although there are lots of random articles I've read over the years that may have contributed bits and pieces here and there.

[busylizbee]

As soon as I saw our beloved Dr. Ratio, I IMMEDIATELY thought of Dr. Spilsbury. Without having read this book or anything about the man in depth, I can't do him justice. Or the comparison justice, for that matter.

I HIGHLY recommend reading this book or just learning about Dr. Spilsbury. The brains. The sass. The end.....

They even scowl the same! （；￢＿￢）

"Sir Bernard Spilsbury was an early-twentieth-century British forensic pathologist who gained fame by testifying in classic murder cases, beginning in 1910 with the Dr. Hawley Harvey Crippen trial. His expert court testimony-he identified Crippen's victim by detailed microscopic study of a scar-convinced the lay jury of Crippen's guilt. Considered the father of modern forensic pathology, Spilsbury became well known after he provided crucial prosecutorial evidence in the Brides in the Bath case (where a nurse nearly drowned in a laboratory experiment designed to prove his theories), the Blazing Car and Brighton Trunk murders, and the Hay-on-Wye aresenic poisoning trial. Knighted in 1923, Spilsbury performed 20,000 postmortem examinations and became the first and only "Honorary Pathologist to the Home Office." Controversial and dramatic, Spilsbury's rise and fall as a media star, revealing how he put spin on the facts, embellished evidence, and played games with the truth. In some notorious cases, his "positive evidence" led to the conviction and execution of men innocent of murder-gross miscarriages of justice that now demand official pardons. Spilsbury's carefully nurtured image, dogmatic manner, and unbending belief in his own infallibility and exposes the fallacies of the man dubbed "the most brilliant scientific detective of all time." 

[blueiscoool]

Ancient Egypt's 'Screaming' Mummy May Have Died in Agony

It is a startling image from ancient Egypt - a mummy discovered during a 1935 archaeological expedition at Deir el-Bahari near Luxor of a woman with her mouth wide open in what looks like an anguished shriek.

Scientists now have an explanation for the "Screaming Woman" mummy after using CT scans to perform a "virtual dissection." It turns out she may have died in agony and experienced a rare form of muscular stiffening, called a cadaveric spasm, that occurs at the moment of death.

The examination indicated that the woman was about 48 years old when she died, had lived with mild arthritis of the spine and had lost some teeth, said Cairo University radiology professor Sahar Saleem, who led the study published on Friday in the journal Frontiers in Medicine.

Her body was well-preserved, being embalmed roughly 3,500 years ago during ancient Egypt's glittering New Kingdom period using costly imported ingredients such as juniper oil and frankincense resin, Saleem added.

The ancient Egyptians viewed preservation of the body after death as crucial to secure a worthy existence in the afterlife. It was customary during the mummification process to remove the internal organs, aside from the heart, but this had not occurred with this woman.

"In ancient Egypt, the embalmers took care of the dead body so it would look beautiful for the afterlife. That's why they were keen to close the mouth of the dead by tying the jaw to the head to prevent the normal postmortem jaw drop," Saleem said.

But the quality of the embalmment ingredients "ruled out that the mummification process had been careless and that the embalmers had simply neglected to close her mouth. In fact, they mummified her well and gave her expensive funerary apparels - two expensive rings made of gold and silver and a long haired-wig made from fibers from the date palm," Saleem added.

"This opened the way to other explanations of the widely opened mouth - that the woman died screaming from agony or pain and that the muscles of the face contracted to preserve this appearance at the time of death due to cadaveric spasm," Saleem said. "The true history or circumstances of the death of this woman are unknown, hence the cause of her screaming facial appearance cannot be established with certainty."

Cadaveric spasm, a poorly understood condition, occurs after severe physical or emotional suffering, with the contracted muscles becoming rigid immediately following death, Saleem said.

"Unlike postmortem rigor mortis, cadaveric spasm affects only one group of muscles, not the entire body," Saleem added.

Asked whether the woman may have been embalmed while alive, Saleem added, "I don't believe that this is possible."

Saleem was unable to determine how the woman died, saying, "We frequently cannot determine the cause of death in a mummy unless there is CT evidence of fatal trauma." Saleem cited evidence of a fatal head injury, slit neck and heart disease in three royal mummies.

The "Screaming Woman" was found at the site of the ancient city of Thebes during excavation of the tomb of a high-ranking official named Senmut, the architect, overseer of royal works and reputed lover of queen Hatshepsut, who reigned from 1479-1458 BC.

The mummy was inside a wooden coffin in a burial chamber beneath Senmut's family tomb. Her identity has not been determined but her jewelry - the gold and silver rings with images of scarab beetles, a symbol of resurrection, made of the gemstone jasper - showed her socioeconomic status.

Two scarab rings found in the coffin of the screaming woman.

"She was likely a close family member to be buried and share the family's eternal resting place," Saleem said.

The study revealed details of her wig. Its spiral braids were treated with the minerals quartz, magnetite and albite to harden them and provide the black color indicative of youth. Her natural hair had been dyed with henna and juniper oil.

A number of ancient mummies, in Egypt and the Americas, have been found with facial expressions resembling a scream - eerily similar to Norwegian painter Edvard Munch's "The Scream."

"I use this painting in my public lectures about the screaming mummies," Saleem said.

By Will Dunham.

[coffinup]

Writing tips for death/funerals/bodies from someone who has worked in the funeral industry for over 3 years

-Bodies actually feel warmer immediately after death due to a condition called postmortem caloricity. This briefly raises the body temperature as bacteria within the gut start moving.

-Rigor mortis has three stages: primary flaccidity, active rigor, and secondary flaccidity. Active rigor starts around 3-6 hours after death. Active rigor will make the body stiff, but not immovable. Secondary flaccidity starts around 30-50 hours after death. This is when decomposition will start to be visibly noticeable. In lower temperatures, active rigor may last longer.

-The first sign of active decomposition is a green tinge in the the lower abdomen

-Funeral Directors NEVER read out a will. This is the duty of a probate lawyer

-Hearses never pick up bodies from their place of death. Hearses are used to ceremonially transport casketed bodies from the place of the funeral to the place of final internment. Funeral homes and mortuaries will use unmarked mini vans or transport vans to pick up bodies from hospitals, nursing facilities, homes, etc.

-a dead person’s eyes shouldn’t be cloudy soon after death unless they already had cataracts. Eyes stay relatively clear until a few days after death. If a body was refrigerated or in cold temps, eyes might become cloudy sooner.

-Perfectly frozen bodies will tend to look essentially the same as they did in life, sometimes including having flushed cheeks and fingers. This flush will turn darker and more gray over long periods of time.

-The body of someone who died from asphyxiation (choking, hanging, suffocating, drowning) may appear blue/gray in color briefly after death.

-The body of someone who died from carbon monoxide poisoning will exhibit cherry read discoloration in their face and extremities, and sometimes their whole body.

-Often times people who were older, who had a liver condition, were obese, or were an alcoholic will be severely jaundiced (yellow) after death

-livor mortis is a postmortem condition that consists of blood settling into areas from gravity. For example, someone laying on their back during death will have a purple/gray/red “staining” in their back, butt, backs of their legs etc, parts of the body that are close to the ground.

-For the love of God, organs are not removed during embalming. This is not part of the embalming process. Autopsies may remove visceral organs for examination. If you search “modern embalming process” on youtube or google you should get a run-down on how modern embalming is done. Embalming in most cases is also NOT permanent. The body will start to decompose after about 2-5 weeks.

-“Clinical Death” is a term used for the cessation of hearbeat function, where life can still be restored through intervention. When writing about someone who briefly died but came back because of hospital intervention, you can say they were “clinically dead”. “Brain death” is when brain function has ceased but organ function is maintained through life support. “Biological death” is cessation of organ and brain activity due to lack of oxygen. This is irreversible. “Legal death” is when a medical professional has declared someone as dead and a death certificate is issued.

-NOT ALL STATES HAVE CORONERS. If you are writing a story in a particular US state, do some quick research to see if they have a coroner or a state medical examiner. Coroners are an elected position and don’t need a medical license, they examine evidence from crime scenes and autopsied. Medical examiners perform autopsies and do need a medical license.

-If someone dies under unknown circumstances, they will be subject to autopsy. This can be as benign as having a heart attack or slipping at home, or as malignant as being murdered.

-this is tangental but Cancer does NOT cause your hair to fall out. CHEMOTHERAPY may cause hair to fall out. Not everyone that has cancer or gets chemo will lose hair. People that have cancer in their upper body (breast, lung, throat etc) are more likely to lose hair than people with cancer in their lower body (genital, rectal, colon, intestinal etc)

If anyone can think of anything else let me know!

[2nd2ndalto]

what if there were two (side by side in orbit)

__

(prologue here)

Chapter 1

September 1998

__

Thank you SO much for your kind comments & encouragement on the prologue! Several of you commented/engaged both here AND on ao3, and while that is certainly not expected or required, you now have my undying love whether you want it or not <3

__

Will blinks his eyes open to the dull buzz of fluorescents as the elevator chimes and jolts to a stop. It’s only three stories up, but he thinks he came close to dozing off on the short ascent. He hitches his bag over his shoulder and heads down the hallway, thinking only of parking himself in front of the TV and descending into a fugue state for the remainder of the evening.

“Hey!” Kayla says as Will opens the door. She gives him a gentle shove on her way through to the kitchen, and Will sways a little, catching himself against the wall. “You look like shit!”

“Thanks,” Will huffs. He drops his bag on the floor, hangs his coat, then squeezes around his sister in the little kitchen to wash his hands – the only remaining obligation before he can become one with the couch.

Kayla’s traded her business attire for a pair of leggings and a band tee, clearly having already been home for a while. Her red hair is gathered in a messy knot at the crown of her head, and she’s stirring something on the stove, fragrant and tomato-y. Will eyes it longingly, hoping she made enough for two. “You’re home late,” Kayla remarks. “Have a hot date?”

“Yeah, right. I was marking papers. Lost track of time.”

Kayla hums, disappointed. “Not hanging out with that hot firearms instructor I met when I picked you up last week?”

Will frowns, mentally scanning through faces and names to determine who Kayla might even be talking about. He grabs a glass from the cupboard, filling it from the tap and downing it in several large gulps. He can’t think of a single hot person he encounters day to day. Then he rolls his eyes, remembering. “Definitely not. Anyway, he’s not hot. And I’m pretty sure he’s straight.”

Kayla shrugs, eyes sparkling. “Maybe he just hasn’t met the right guy. Sounds like an extracurricular project for you.”

“Oh my god,” Will mutters. “Some of us are actually at work to work, you know.” He makes his way into the living room, dropping heavily onto the couch and throwing an arm over his eyes. Hearing Kayla settle in the armchair a few minutes later, he shifts his arm to look at his sister. Kayla winks at him. She looks just as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as she did when she left this morning. Will feels a pang of affection for his sister.

They hadn’t always been close, growing up, their four years’ age difference just a little too vast in childhood for a close bond. But they’ve grown closer in adulthood, enough to move to DC together – Will to join the FBI and Kayla as she began work as a congressional aide. Will’s so very grateful for her staunch and sunny presence in his life, especially after the somewhat grueling day he’s just had.

“How about you? Good day? Any hot dates?” Will asks.

Kayla raises an eyebrow. “Yes and yes. Spent most of the day in a phenomenally boring congress session, but then Lou Ellen and I took an extended lunch break.” She wiggles her eyebrows at him.

Will huffs out a laugh. “Well, good for you. At least one of us is making new friends. I spent the morning teaching postmortem examination of the gastrointestinal cavity and the afternoon trapped in the stupidest budget meeting you could imagine.”

“Could have been an email?”

“Could have been three post-its,” Will says tiredly.

It turns out Kayla has made enough dinner for two, bless her, and an hour later Will is feeling somewhat more like himself, feet propped on the coffee table and a beer in hand while he half-listens to Kalya’s spirited heckling of Law & Order.

“What’s your start time tomorrow?” Kaya asks at the commercial break, turning down the volume and leaning forward to stretch. Will hears the pop of a vertebrae or two and Kayla groans in satisfaction. “Maybe I can give you a ride in.”

Will nods. “Yeah, that would be great, actually. I don’t need to be there until ten, but I can go whenever you’re ready.”

Ally McBeal is starting up, and Kayla turns back to the TV. Will sighs, dropping his head against the back of the couch. “I’m wiped. I think I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Aww c’mon,” Kayla protests, “don’t you want to find out if Ally gets together with Dr. Butters?”

Will snorts. “I’ll pass. I’m just gonna check my work email and then turn in.”

Kayla frowns at him disapprovingly and Will waves her off. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But if there’s something I can deal with immediately I’d rather just do it now.”

Will settles himself at his desk, flicking the computer on. His gaze drifts back to his sister as he waits for the machine to boot up. Kayla’s looking completely relaxed, eyes fixed on the screen and sparkling with interest at the drama unfolding in front of her.

Nothing really seems to knock Kayla off balance for more than a moment. Will, conversely, feels eternally on the edge of a breakdown, never quite getting there but never completely pulling back either. His moods swing darker than Kayla’s, his silences longer and more dour. Sometimes he worries about what will happen to him when Kayla inevitably finds a partner and moves out.

It’s not that Will’s not satisfied with his work. Sometimes it just feels… dragging. Repetitive. It shouldn’t – he’s only been teaching at Quantico for two years. But he can’t quite shake the feeling that maybe this isn’t it for him. Maybe this isn’t what he’s meant to be doing with his life.

Windows plays its little chiming welcome noise and Will turns back to the computer with a sigh. He clicks through a few folders, hearing the modem screech and click as it connects to the outside world. A few more clicks and he’s logging into his FBI email.

There are already a handful of new messages – frustrating since Will only left the office a few hours ago. Nothing urgent, at least. He’s just about to shut the computer down when there’s a ding alerting him of a new email. He glances at it and then frowns, suddenly more alert.

He reads through the email once, then twice more to make sure he’s understood.

“Huh,” Will says, a mess of emotions fluttering in his chest before the feeling settles into curiosity. Maybe hope.

“What’s up?” Kayla asks, turning. “You miss a key part of the gastrointestinal cavity?”

Will shakes his head slowly. “No. They’re reassigning me. Apparently I’m done at Quantico.”

::

Will’s sitting outside the assistant director’s office a full fifteen minutes before his appointment time the next morning, one leg jiggling nervously. He dressed extra carefully this morning, his nicest suit and his lucky tie – the one patterned with little tibias and fibulas.

The email he received last night didn’t really provide much information, and now that he’s had a good twelve hours to ruminate on it, he’s a mess. Despite the fact that he hasn’t loved every second of his time at Quantico, he’d thought he was doing well there. Now he’s reconsidering everything, analyzing every hallway conversation, every off-hand comment he ever made to a student. He knows he can be sarcastic sometimes. Maybe someone took something the wrong way. Maybe all of this is his fault.

Is this their subtle way of shifting him out of the Bureau entirely?

Luckily, Will doesn’t have long to catastrophize.

The AD’s assistant clears her throat. “Assistant Director Ramirez-Arellano will see you now, Agent Solace.”

Will stands up, too fast, ignoring the mildly amused look on the assistant’s face. He nods at her, polite and steps into the large office behind her. Huge windows overlook the traffic zipping by in the tree-lined streets below. It’s bright out – cobalt blue September sky without a hint of cloud.

“Agent Solace. Please have a seat.” Assistant Director Ramirez-Arellano nods to the chair in front of her desk and Will complies, nervous. There are two other more senior Bureau officials seated with the AD as well. They’re both vaguely familiar, but Will doesn’t think he could name them.

The AD regards Will, her dark eyes inscrutable. Will doesn’t know Ramirez-Arellano well, but any time he’s interacted with her she’s been pleasant enough. Never warm, certainly not friendly, but professional. Reasonable. Will thinks she must only be a few years older than he is, but there’s something ageless about her. Regal. Her posture pristine, dark hair flawless.

It can’t have been easy for her to have risen through the ranks at the Bureau as quickly as she has, being non-male and non-white. That’s sure to require a certain toughness, Will thinks. As much as the FBI tries to sell themselves otherwise, the Bureau is very much an old boys’ club. It’s something that’s always grated on Will, contributing to the feeling he might never fully belong here – being neither old nor quite boy enough.

“Thank you for meeting with us today,” the AD says smoothly. “I’m sure you’ve reviewed the email I sent last night?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Will says. He hopes he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels.

Ramirez-Arellano glances down to the file in front of her. “You’ve been with us for just over two years.”

Will nods. “Yes. The Bureau recruited me out of medical school. I’ve been teaching at Quantico since then.”

“And do you enjoy your work?”

It’s a simple question and Will likely isn’t expected to give an exhaustive or particularly truthful answer, but his stomach twists and he can feel heat rising in his face.

Will swallows. “Yes, I – yes. I’ve been enjoying my work. It’s challenging. But rewarding.”

There’s a beat as the AD returns his gaze, and then her eyes flick to the file on her desk again. “Your superiors report that you are an excellent instructor. Thorough. Your students speak highly of you.”

Will nods again, short. Maybe this isn’t a reprimand, then. “Thank you.”

His gaze darts towards the two men sitting behind Ramirez-Arellano. Neither has spoken. Will’s not sure if they’ve blinked.

The AD clears her throat. “Agent Solace, are you familiar with Agent Nico di Angelo?”

Will blinks. “Yes. Um. Only by reputation. He’s an Oxford-educated psychologist who wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult that helped catch Monte Propps. I believe he was considered to be the best analyst in the Violent Crimes section.”

The AD nods in agreement. “Agent di Angelo has been a valuable asset to the FBI. He has also developed a consuming devotion to a project outside the Bureau mainstream. Are you familiar with the X-Files?”

“I think so,” Will says. “I believe they have to do with unexplained phenomena?”

“More or less,” the AD agrees. “The reason you’re here, Agent Solace, is that we would like you to assist Agent di Angelo on these X-Files. You will assist in investigations, write field reports on your activities, function as di Angelo’s partner. We would also like your observations on the validity of the work.”

The two men sitting at the back of the room are still silent, but Will thinks he hasn’t quite imagined the shift in one of their postures at this statement.

Will takes a second to process what he’s being asked. Field work. That sounds interesting, honestly. He briefly worked in the field as part of his initial training, and occasionally over the last two years he’s been asked to examine a body at a crime scene. He enjoyed it, from his limited experience. Most of his time has been spent cooped up in classrooms and mortuaries. But, wait –

“Am I to understand that you want me to… debunk the X-Files project, ma’am?” Will asks slowly, his stomach sinking.

The AD watches him for a moment. “We trust that you will make the appropriate scientific analysis of these cases, Agent Solace.” She sits up straighter, pushing her chair back. “You’ll want to contact Agent di Angelo today. We look forward to seeing your reports.”

And with that, Will is dismissed. He pauses in the hall outside, uncertain.

Coffee, he decides. Coffee, and then he supposes he’ll introduce himself to his new partner.

Will makes his way down the wide, thickly carpeted hallway, past glossy wood doors, giving a cursory nod to another agent waiting at the bank of elevators. He heads down the stairwell, then through the main entrance and onto the sunny street outside. There’s a little shop on D Street that serves Will’s favorite coffee – a smooth, dark roast – and he decides to take the longer walk there rather than opting for the more popular Dunkin’ across the street. Besides, he reasons, it’ll give him more time to think.

From the little Will can recall, he’s heard positive things about di Angelo. He must have been a couple of years ahead of Will at the Bureau, but Will had been busy with medical school, so they’re likely near the same age. He vaguely remembers di Angelo’s nickname at the Academy - Spooky. And, more recently, Will remembers hearing the occasional off-hand, disparaging remark from some of his colleagues about di Angelo’s area of interest. But Will’s never paid much attention to such things. From what he knows of di Angelo’s work, he’s a good agent.

Will returns to the Bureau with his coffee, still nervous, but a little excited too. As he settles into the idea, he realizes he really is ready to try something new, get out there and do some work in the real world.

Waiting in line to pass through security, it occurs to Will that he’s not sure where di Angelo’s desk is. Most of the agents are in a vast, open-plan area on the second floor with floor-to-ceiling windows. A busy, lively place. Will’s not crazy about working in a cubicle farm, but he supposes he’ll manage.

He pauses at the directory to look for di Angelo’s name. 024. That’s odd, Will thinks. He hasn’t spent a lot of time in the J. Edgar Hoover building, but he hadn’t realized anyone worked in the basement.

There’s only one elevator that descends to the basement, and the doors open to dim lighting, many of the overhead fluorescents burned out or flickering down the narrow hallway. It’s a little eerie.

Will checks the number on a door across from him – 011. He takes a second to survey his reflection in the glass, running a quick hand through his hair. He’s tried to keep it short over the last two years and he’s suddenly painfully aware that he’s probably due for a haircut, dark blond curls beginning to look unruly, especially after his walk outside. He flattens it as best he can, then straightens his tie and jacket. Steels himself.

024 isn’t far. Will takes a deep breath and knocks.

There’s the scrape of a chair and then a voice from within, “Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted.”

Will cracks the door cautiously, peering around it. The space is dim, the overhead lights off and a few surfaces illuminated by desk lamps. The office is roomier than Will had been expecting, but cluttered, lived-in. The aroma of fresh coffee drifts towards the doorway, and Will notices a half-pot on a small cart next to a bulletin board covered in photos and notes. There are stacks of files, books and papers obscuring most surfaces. A poster on the far wall with what looks like a UFO reads I WANT TO BELIEVE.

In the middle of the room, there’s a man hunched over a desk, illuminated by the light falling from the lamp above his head. His dark hair is just a little over-long, falling onto his forehead. He seems to be focused on a series of slides.

“Um, hi,” Will says, hesitant, and the man glances up. Dark eyes, fine features. Nice cheekbones. He’s really pretty, Will’s brain tells him unhelpfully, and Will forcefully shoves that thought aside. He takes a few steps into the room, holding out his hand. “I’m Will Solace. I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

Di Angelo stands to return the handshake, his eyes on Will, something like humor there. “Nice to meet you. Who did you piss off to get stuck down here with me?”

“Actually I’m looking forward to working with you. You’re very highly regarded. I’ve heard good things about your work.”

“Really.” di Angelo returns to his seat, not taking his eyes off Will, a hint of amusement still playing on his lips. “Because I was under the impression you were sent down here to spy on me.”

Will blinks, rattled. “If you have any concerns regarding my credentials –”

Di Angelo reaches towards a paperweight at the corner of his desk, pulling a sheet of looseleaf out from under it. The movement is quick and smooth, managing not to upset the many other stacked files and papers. “You’re a medical doctor. You’ve been teaching at the Academy for two years now. You did your undergrad in physics. Einstein’s Twin Paradox, a New Interpretation, William Solace, senior thesis. Now there’s a credential, rewriting Einstein.”

“Did you bother to read it?” Will asks, starting to feel a bit nettled.

Di Angelo raises an eyebrow. “I did. I liked it. It just seems that too often, in my work, the regular laws of physics don’t seem to apply.”

Will’s not sure how to respond to that. They gaze at each other for a long moment. Di Angelo looks away first.

The dark-haired man turns back to his desk, begins digging under a stack of papers, somehow finding what he’s searching for almost immediately. “Why don’t you give me your medical opinion on this.” He glances back at Will, then blinks as if he’s just registered him still standing there. “Have a seat.”

Will takes in the cluttered space, finally selecting a chair topped only by a neat stack of empty file folders. Lifting them, he turns, ready to move them to another surface, then quickly determines there is no other surface.

“Sorry,” di Angelo mutters, standing and taking the folders. “I’m… in the process of reorganizing in here.”

The statement has a ring of untruth to it. Will smiles to himself, relaxing the tiniest bit.

Di Angelo pulls a slide projector from a nearby shelf, positioning it precariously on a stack of books and quickly loading the cartridge. Has he got a whole presentation prepared?

“Want me to get the lights?” Will asks.

Di Angelo glances up, surprised. “Yeah. That would be great.”

Will flicks off the two desk lamps within reach, not trusting himself to clamber over stacks of papers and file boxes to reach the third, especially in the near-dark. He returns to the safety of his chair.

The slide projector clanks, and then a picture materializes on the wall. A young woman, clearly deceased, supine on the ground, low vegetation around the body.

“Karen Swenson, age twenty-one. No obvious cause of death,” di Angelo’s voice comes through the darkness. “There are, however, these distinctive marks on her lower back.” The slide switches. “Can you identify these, Dr. Solace?”

Will leans forward, squinting. The photograph is grainy, washed out. But he can make out several small red marks on the young woman’s back. The marks seem to be in pairs, close together. “Needle punctures, maybe? An animal bite?”

“Mmm,” di Angelo says in consideration. “Maybe.”

The slide changes again, this time to a molecular diagram.

“How’s your chemistry?” di Angelo asks. “This is the substance found in the surrounding tissue.”

Will frowns. “It’s um… it’s organic. I don’t know. Is it some kind of protein?”

“Beats me, I’ve never seen it before either.”

More slides follow, all similar images. Male, age twenty-three, Sturgis, South Dakota. Female, age eighteen, Shamrock, Texas.

“Do you have any theories?” Will asks.

“I have plenty of theories,” di Angelo replies. “None of them are sticking so far.” He turns to face Will, silhouetted in the light from the projector. “Regardless, it’s Bureau policy to label these cases unexplained phenomena and ignore them.”

Will blinks. “That’s… a shame.”

“Yeah,” di Angelo says, a bit softer. “It is.”

There’s a moment of quiet in the office, long enough for Will to wonder if the slideshow has concluded, if he should risk navigating the darkened office to turn the lights back on.

“Have you done much fieldwork, Dr. Solace?” di Angelo asks.

Will frowns. “You um – you don’t need to call me Dr. Solace. I’m not here in a medical capacity. And no, not really. Just my initial training and then the occasional field autopsy.” He thinks the other man is trying to feel him out. He can’t tell yet if he’s passing or failing. “Have you… done a lot of fieldwork?” Will asks.

Di Angelo nods. “Yeah.” He pauses, then turns back to his slide projector. “Karen Swenson,” he circles back to the first slide, “she’s the fourth person in her graduating class to die under mysterious circumstances. No leads. When convention and science offer us no answers, might we not turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?”

“Well,” Will considers, “Personally, I’d need more information first. Miss Swenson obviously died of something. If that was natural causes, perhaps there was something overlooked in the postmortem. If she was murdered, it’s plausible there was a sloppy investigation. But I find it fantastical to consider that there are any answers beyond the realm of science. The answers are there. You just have to know where to look.”

Di Angelo watches him for a moment. “Interesting.”

“So, what’s the status of all these investigations, then?” Will asks, gesturing towards the slide still lighting up the far wall.

Di Angelo finally takes a step further away from the projector, giving Will a clear view of his face. “Cases are still open, but most likely they’ll stay that way until everyone who cared about these kids is dead and gone. The Bureau isn’t interested in putting the money or the manpower into investigating any further. In their eyes, they’ve done what they can. I’s are dotted, t’s are crossed, end of story.”

“There’s just you, then,” Will says slowly.

“Basically, yeah. Until you can convince them I’m not worth their funding either,” di Angelo says lightly.

Will feels his face warming. “Look, I’m not – I just got here, you know? I don’t have a horse in this race one way or another. I just want to do good work.”

Di Angelo considers, and something seems to settle in his expression. “Well,” he allows, “I suppose that’s a good start.”

::

It feels as if they’ve reached a tentative truce, then, and they spend the rest of the morning reviewing files together. A lot of the cases are fascinating. Will can’t help wanting to know more, wanting to puzzle out what might have been missed during previous investigations, thinking of the loved ones still wondering, the people left behind when the FBI leaves town. The more interest Will shows, the more animated his new partner becomes. Maybe he’s a little relieved, Will thinks, that Will hasn’t come down here with an agenda.

They go their separate ways at lunch, but when Will returns to the basement office a bit early, the other man is there already, a stack of papers in his arms when Will opens the door. One desk has been completely cleared.

“I took the liberty of clearing some space for you. If you want,” di Angelo says.

Will blinks, surprised. He hadn’t really expected to feel welcome here yet. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. The other man nods.

Will is warm from his lunchtime walk, and he pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it over the chair that now seems to be his. He surveys the empty expanse of his new desk. Di Angelo is turned away, flipping through a stuffed file drawer.

“So, what’s on the agenda for this afternoon?” Will asks. “Are we reviewing more cases?”

Di Angelo turns, looking mildly surprised.

Will shakes his head. “Oh – sorry. You’re probably in the middle of about a dozen different things. Please, carry on. I can just – I’ll keep orienting myself to the caseload.”

“No,” di Angelo says, and his eyes look brighter now. “You’re right. We should review some more files.”

The dark-haired man turns back to the filing cabinet, plucking several files from the first drawer, then smoothly crouching to pull several more from lower drawers. He skirts the room quickly to grab some papers from the top of a shelf. It’s like a dance, Will thinks, graceful and purposeful.

Di Angelo settles himself back at his desk, copying Will and shedding his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. “What do you know about the Philadelphia Experiment?” he asks Will, flipping open a folder.

“Hmm.” Will scrubs a hand through his hair. “Philadelphia Experiment. 1943, I believe?”

Di Angelo nods, looking pleased.

“USS Eldridge was conducting top-secret experiments on invisibility - which of course, is preposterous –” Will begins. He’s teasing, he realizes in surprise, already anticipating the other man’s reaction.

Di Angelo doesn’t disappoint. There’s a sudden sparkle to his eyes. “Preposterous?”

Will smiles, unable to help himself. “Onlookers reported seeing a green glow around the ship –” he wiggles his fingers in the air and di Angelo rolls his eyes, but he’s fighting a grin, Will’s pretty sure. “Easily explained as an electrical storm or St. Elmo’s Fire.”

“Both the USS Engstrom and the Eldridge had classified devices on board –”

“Yes, but they weren’t invisibility cloaks or alien tech –”

“Then how do you explain the –”

Their sentences are bumping against each other now, both men grinning.

“The travel speed? Inland canals. The ship wasn’t traveling over open water,” Will says decisively.

“Agent Solace, sailors were fused to the ship,” di Angelo says, incredulous. “Still alive, but their limbs sealed to the metal structure.”

Will shakes his head, still smiling. “Unsubstantiated.”

Di Angelo huffs, but he seems to be enjoying this. Will feels some of the tension release in his shoulders.

The afternoon continues much like this, di Angelo throwing out theories (progressively wilder, Will thinks) and Will shooting them down (“Spontaneous human combustion,” di Angelo says, tossing yet another folder at Will. “Arson,” Will says firmly, pushing the file back, and di Angelo shakes his head, rolling his chair across the office to retrieve yet another file.)

“Crop circles?” Will suggests when there’s a pause in the discussion.

Di Angelo huffs. “Hoax, obviously. Crop triangles though – those are another matter entirely.”

Will blinks. “Crop… triangles?”

Di Angelo regards Will gravely for a moment. Then his lips twitch. Will laughs. He’s joking. At least Will’s mostly sure he’s joking. He looks a little smug, anyway.

Di Angelo turns back to his desk, the hint of a smile still on his face. “I like your tie, by the way,” he says.

Will touches a hand to his tie, surprised. “Thanks. It was a graduation gift from my little brother.”

Di Angelo nods. “Very apropos. I have one with little skulls. It was a gift from my… Frank.”

Will quirks an eyebrow, fully grinning now. “From your Frank?”

Di Angelo shakes his head, looking embarrassed. “My – brother-in-law. For lack of a better term.”

Will opens his mouth, fully intent on learning more about this Frank, but di Angelo stands abruptly.

“Anyway,” he says with finality. “Let me grab the file on Project Mannequin.”

::

They leave for the day together, the hallway even darker at the day’s end. They don’t exchange any words in the elevator, but the atmosphere feels more collegial now, Will thinks. He has a fleeting thought that maybe they might become friends. He hasn’t really made any friends at the Bureau, yet. But he’d like this friendship.

They part ways on the street outside, Will watching the other man walk into the distance for just a moment before turning to walk to the metro station.

::

“Oh, so you have a partner,” Kayla raises an eyebrow at Will over her spaghetti, suggestive. “It’s like that.”

Will rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. You do know that, right?”

“What’s he like?”

Will frowns. “I’m not really sure yet. He was a little hard to read. Seems like a smart guy, though.”

Kayla is quick. “Is he cute?”

Will doesn’t dignify that with a response, pushing back his chair to dig in the fridge for the parmesan.

“Okay, okay,” Kayla says, conciliatory. “Just tell me what he looks like. Young? Old?”

Will grimaces as he shoves a sticky jar of jam out of the way in pursuit of the parmesan behind it. “Young, I guess. Probably about my age. I think we finished undergrad in the same year.”

“I see, I see,” Kayla says, mouth full of pasta. Will returns to the table and shakes the green and red container liberally over his plate. He passes it to his sister when she wiggles her fingers at him.

“Hair?” Kayla asks. “Eyes?”

“Yes,” Will says, stubborn. “He has them.”

Kayla sets the parmesan on the table. “C’mon Will, give me something. I had the most mind-numbing day you can imagine, sitting in public relations briefings. Give me all the hot FBI gossip.”

Will snorts. “Fine. Um. He has dark hair, a bit longer than mine. Kind of… wavy. I think he’s Italian. Maybe. I don’t know, Kayla,” he laughs.

“Skinny? Fat? Short? Tall? Snappy dresser? Look like he works out?” Kayla prompts, eyes sparkling.

And Will can’t help the way his cheeks warm, because yeah, he noticed those things - di Angelo’s slim build – his cheekbones – the way he moved fluidly through the mess of his office, the way his eyes lit up when Will showed more than passing interest in the cases he presented. But none of those things really matter. It’s just work.

Will shakes his head, exasperated. “I don’t know. He was in a suit and tie, same as me. Shorter. Thin, I guess. Looked like he could use a few good meals.”

“Oh my god,” Kayla mutters, returning to her pasta.

“What,” Will says, flat, setting down his fork.

“He’s totally your type.”

“Oh my god, he is not –”

“He is though!” Kayla laughs. “Short? Sickly-looking? Kinda emo?”

“He’s not sickly looking –”

“Oh my god, I bet he listens to Nine Inch Nails.”

Will turns back to his dinner, prim. He is absolutely not giving his sister the satisfaction of knowing that’s exactly what was playing quietly on the stereo when he entered di Angelo’s office.

“It’s work Kayla, not a singles bar. I’m a fucking professional.”

But Kayla’s giggling into her water and Will’s fighting a smile now too. It only takes him a moment to relent.

“Okay, fine. Objectively speaking, he’s cute. He was cute.”

“Aha, I knew it,” Kayla cackles. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

“You are absolutely forbidden from ever speaking to him.”

Kayla snorts.

Will sighs, poking at his noodles. Kayla drives him absolutely insane most of the time. He’s so glad he has her.

“It’s okay to date at work, Will,” Kayla says, gentler.

Easy for her to say. Kayla’s always seemed to have the uncanny knack for remaining close with her exes - no awkwardness, no hard feelings. Will, unfortunately, can’t say the same for his own past relationships. It’s not the primary reason his current endeavors have taken him so far from the small town in Texas he grew up in, but it doesn’t hurt.

“I’m fine, Kayla,” he says, glancing up briefly. He knows she worries about him. “I’m too busy for dating anyway. And I’m definitely not going to start hitting on some guy I work with just because he’s the requisite amount of emo.”

“Sixty-eight percent of romantic relationships begin in the workplace, Will.”

Will frowns. “That… sounds like a completely fabricated statistic.”

Kayla shrugs. “Okay, you got me.”

Will snorts, returning to his meal. “Thanks for making dinner again, by the way,” he remembers to add. “I was ready to gnaw off my own arm on the way home on the train today.”

Kayla shrugs. “No problem. I had time.” She sets down her glass of water and pauses, gazing at him across the small table. “You’re a good guy, Will.”

Will huffs out a laugh, surprised. “Thanks?”

Kayla shrugs. “I mean it. All kidding aside, you seem… happy. Today. I hope the new job works out.”

Will nods, thoughtful. He felt happy, today. “Yeah. Me too.”

(chapter 2 here)

__

Notes:

I wrote this section back in November and BOY did it feel awkward. This fic is pretty much my first try ever at writing something more than just fluff and angst and long one-shots. It also felt REALLY weird writing a Will & Nico without some kind of established relationship.

Sections of this are taken pretty much straight from the X-Files pilot. You should watch it, if you haven't! Not that it will make any difference to your understanding of this fic, probably. And it turns out my writing is about 100x fluffier than Chris Carter's. Shocking, I know.

I do not claim to have any understanding of the workings of the FBI.

I initially cringed so hard at myself every time I had to type "Agent Solace" or "Agent di Angelo". Then I got over it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to @rosyredlipstick for betaing & to @anything-thats-rock-and-roll for suggesting emo music (against their better judgement, I think) and helping me with Will's favourite tie (not ghost condoms - at least not YET)

[dearreader]

hello fellow members of the tortured poets department.

i know this analysis is several months late but i want to continue this analysis. so if you’ll allow me, let’s discuss the question we’re all dying to know the answer to how did it end?

previous day's here:

standard tracks: masterpost

anthology tracks: the black dog, imgonnagetyouback, the albatross, chloe or sam or sophia or marcus

this song is so fucking sad. i love it so much.

the entire song is just about taylor complaining about people trying to find out what happened between her and her former muse so they can gossip about it. but she describes this as “empathetic hunger” and talks about how people are enjoying or revealing in the breakup because they don’t have to worry about that. this is something i experienced myself with my dads death and everyone asking what happened to him and ended up turning it into gossip. this is, in my opinion, a somewhat universal experience for those who have grieved. because at our lowest low when we can’t understand the world and are numb to it, someone’s asking what happened.

it’s a very hard feeling to explain and describe but this song does it well, in my opinion.

when people say they didn’t understand the album and it she just combines a bunch of big words together to sound deep, the opening line to this song is what i think of. though they’re wrong. the song is very straight forward with what it’s saying and what taylor is trying to say because she’s answering the exact question everyone is asking.

“how did it end? what happened?” and she tells you.

“we hereby conduct this, postmortem.” -> we will now begin to examine something that is dead.

“he was a hotbox (greenhouse) flower to my outdoorsman.” he grew up in a different world than me that was ‘sheltered’ and couldn’t handle being taken from that environment.

“our melodies were such we could not cure us.” they tried to work together, making songs together about their issues, but it wasn’t enough to save them. EDIT: i was made aware that it’s “our maladies” and not “our melodies” which makes sense as it’s a call back to you’re losing me and taylor saying “i was gray in the face/but you wouldn’t admit that we were sick”. i do however think the word choice is interesting, and it might just be taylor using big words to make if sound hard to understand when it’s straightforward (which is the point of the opening). but i think the two terms could go hand in hand, that they made melodies (songs on folkmore) because they were trying to work through their issues but it wasn’t enough to help. the melodies are the maladies, if you will allow me to be that pretentious.

“and so a touch that was my birthright became foreign.” he was her soulmate, they were destined to fall in love and be together. but even still they grew apart and they didn’t know each other anymore.

taylor point blank tells the public exactly what happened to her and joe. she tells us because she knows it’s the question we’re all dying to find the answer to. and then after this she describes how it felt to have the world descend upon her wanting to know what happened, “come one come all it’s happening again”, and start to talk about her. when is the new album dropping? when will she finally settle down? how come she can’t keep a man? etc. and as that is going on she’s healing from a broken heart. she’s mourning this relationship that helped save her at her lowest moment and is now gone. and as she’s grappling with that people start to poke and pry and demand answers.

but the most interesting thing about the song is that it ends with taylor saying that she doesn’t know how it ended. yes, she knows what happened, but she can’t begin to understand how it got this way. how DID it end? how did his touch grow foreign? how could this happen when he helped her at her lowest…

she still doesn’t know… and everyone’s asking her how did it end

[constantly-deactivated]

⚠️⚠️"YOU BETTER PAY ATTENTION"⚠️⚠️

White Hat Military Installations DESTROY Vaccine-Contaminated Blood Stockpiles

After the House voted 350-80 in favor of repealing Lloyd Austin’s unconstitutional Covid-19 vaccine mandate for all armed forces members, the White Hat partition of the U.S. military took it a step further by destroying blood donations taken from vaccinated servicemembers.

They say empirical evidence proves beyond all doubt that although donors might not present vaccine-related side effects, recipients of tainted plasma have had adverse reactions, including sudden death, to contaminated blood. Case in point: Staff Sgt. William Wright, a healthy 36-year-old male stationed at Fort Bliss, Texas, was wounded during a training exercise to the point of needing a transfusion. Wright was not vaccinated; he had been fighting an arduous battle to obtain a religious exemption. He was unconscious at the time, and therefore couldn’t ask whether the plasma entering his veins had been siphoned from a vaccinated person. Unbeknownst to Wright, the donor had been double-vaxxed and boosted. He seemed to recover—his vitals were normal and he was eating solid food—but remained under observation at the William Beaumont Army Medical Center-Fort Bliss, and had enough strength to ask whether he’d been given vaccinated blood. When told he had, he protested. Two days later Wright, still at the hospital, died suddenly—major heart attack. A postmortem examination found an 11” blood clot in an artery in his lungs.

The White Hat physicians’ movement claims that the criminal Biden regime has buried hundreds of similar reports that malign its precious vaccine.

“When an unvaccinated patient receives vaccinated plasma, well, statistics don’t lie. What we’ve witnessed is an astronomically large number of troops present everything from mild and temporary to severe and lasting side effects, and, in some cases, death. I’m personally aware of 12 men that needed a transfusion and vehemently objected to getting vaccinated plasma. They were told they were government property and had no right to refuse it,” a physician at Womack Army Medical Center, Fort Bragg, told Real Raw News.

On Thursday, the senior leadership at Womack Army Medical Center reached a consensus to incinerate and destroy its stockpile of vaccine-contaminated blood—approximately 500 liters of refrigerated plasma and whole blood that hadn’t yet been spun in a centrifuge. News of the heroic act spread rapidly among the White Hat community, and within hours other military bases began torching polluted blood. Fort Meade, home to U.S. Cyber Command, destroyed its supply, as did Hunter Army Airfield and Fort Benning, both in Georgia. All told, 23 installations obliterated toxic blood.

“It was a ripple effect, a wave,” said our source at Womack Army Medical Center. “It only took us to start it, and now it’s washing over joint bases all over the country.”

RRN asked whether the blood destruction would affect service members whose lives depend on a transfusion.

“We have an ace in the hole,” our source said. “Fortunately, Marines resisted the mandate from the start, and have been donating regularly. Rough estimate, 150,000 unvaccinated Marines who can donate 6 times per year. The Special Operations units also refused vaccination. That’s 43,000 men and women, give or take. We won’t have a shortage of unvaccinated blood. And we’ll get more as new enlistees, who won’t have to get vaxxed, can contribute theirs.”

Source:

Do you know what you're getting❓🤔

[whenanafallsinlove]

UNDER INVESTIGATION; SHOTO TODOROKI X FEM READER PILOT' || series m.list Summary: As a forensic medical examiner, you are used to working alongside the police, but a concerning case calls for the aid of a pro-hero. When Shoto shows up, the time you spend together makes you realise that the case is not the only thing you would like to solve. Maybe what you start to feel needs to go under investigation too. Warnings: descriptions of autopsies, crime, deceased bodies. Tags: prohero au, fem reader, aged up characters, romance + crime, multichapter.

a/n: (eng is not my first language) omg this is the first update of the fic, i'm so excited! i hope you like it and look forward to the next part! comment what you think! :D

“We hereby conduct this postmortem.”

You are used to saying those words daily, sometimes even more than once per day. It's like a ritual that indicates the beginning of your shift.

As a forensic medical examiner, you have worked on a lot of cases, getting to know many people. You've partnered with policemen, detectives, and some underground heroes.

Today you received a call before dawn. The police found another body that needed a detailed autopsy. You suspect that they have opened an investigation involving the recent corpses you were asked to analyse. This is the third one you've had to examine in a week.

It has been over three hours since you started the autopsy, taking pictures of the small details you found unusual and extracting body fluids and organic matter that needs to be sent to the lab. Every new hint you find, you write it down meticulously.

Once you finish examining the body, you take your gloves off, sanitize your hands, and start writing the mandated report.

Minutes later, the entrance to your lab opens, revealing three men. A detective, your lab supervisor, and whom you recognized to be Pro-Hero Shoto.

"Gentlemen," you say and nod to address them.

"Good morning, Dr. (Y/L/N)" Your supervisor says, "We've come to learn the updates regarding the corpses."

"Please come in; I just finished the autopsy, and I'm currently writing the report. I think I'll have it around noon, as long as you don't bring in another one..." You say the last part with a hint of humor.

"Sorry that we've been keeping you busy, but we suspect there is something suspicious with the bodies that have been recently found. The investigation started around two weeks ago, and well, you see how it's progressing." The detective explains and sighs.

"That is what I would like to discuss. I see you took your task seriously and brought me a hero." You turn towards Shoto and address him with a grin.

As soon as you got to your lab and started the autopsy, the similarities this body had with the other two caught your eye. You immediately decided to call your supervisor and explain that the recent autopsies would need to be discussed with the police and a hero agency willing to assist. You expected the support of a small agency; never would you have imagined working with the Hero #3.

Shoto makes his way towards you and extends his hand.

"I'm Shoto; it's a pleasure to meet you," he says. You shake his hand and smile.

"Nice to meet you; I'm Dr. (y/n)(Y/L/N)." You hope your enthusiasm doesn't show in the way you are grabbing his hand.

After greeting him, you take your notes and address the other men. "Well, gentlemen, shall I give you a description of what I have found in the bodies?" Your supervisor nods.

"Please walk us through, (Y/L/N)"; you take that as your cue to hand them gloves, face masks, and eye protection. This seemed to catch Shouto off guard, because you notice he looks at you with wonder.

"Have you ever been in a morgue?" you ask him.

"No." He coldly responds.

"Well, don't worry. You won't be touching anything; these are just for sanitary measures." You gesture to the materials you just gave them and offer him a reassuring smile.

Shouto can't help but think that even though you act very professional, you also seem lighthearted for the type of job that you have.

You sigh heavily and start presenting the information that you found.

"As you can see, there are some areas throughout the body that have a different colour. At first, I thought they were indicators of physical trauma, but when examining them closer, I found they were small fungi colonies." Your supervisor hums in agreement, and you continue, "But, according to the police report that I received, this person has been deceased for less than 48 hours, which is yet to be confirmed by the biochemical exams. Although the 'rigor mortis' displayed by the body validates it." You lift your gaze to see if everyone is following, and Shouto is so evidently lost that it makes you giggle.

"Dr. (Y/L/N)?" your supervisor calls.

"Sorry, I forgot that not everyone is accustomed to the scientific terms," you say, chuckling at the hero. "In other words, these marks are not bruises or scrapes. But I fear it's slightly worse, since they are decomposed skin."

Shoto nodded in understanding, but he still had a question.

"Why is it worse if there is no sign of physical violence?"

"Because the time that the body has been lifeless is too short for it to decompose. And even though I'm waiting for the tests that we perform on the body fluids, the stiffness of the body confirms that it hasn't been too long."

You see the three men nod in agreement.

"In addition to this, it is almost winter, so the temperature hasn't been over 19°. Normally, a decomposition like this, with the weather we have, would take around two weeks. And the body would present different necrophagous species." You shift your stare at Shoto. "There would be insects."

He was startled for many reasons: 1. How could you know all that by looking at a body? 2. How do you manage to look at bodies and speak so nonchalantly about them? and 3. How are you not getting nauseus from this information?

"What are you suggesting here, (Y/L/N)?" your supervisor asks.

"Well, I have two theories about this. The three bodies that I have analyzed have been contaminated by the fungi. My first theory is that if the three bodies were found inside the same radius of 100 m, there may be a massive fungi infestation in the environment that is slowly killing people."

"Sounds unlikely," Shoto says.

"Exactly what I thought. Which leads to my second theory: that someone with a decomposition quirk targeted these people."

As the three men process the information, you smile at Shoto. You figured you should get along well if you'd be seeing him often.

TAGS: @miyamoratsumuu, @serxndipity-ipity-blog, @mqshido, @pretty-sparkle-bomb

[killed-by-choice]

“Phyllis Roe” (USA 1970–1972)

A study published in the Obstetrics and Gynecology medical journal documented 10 cases of maternal death from legal saline abortions in New York City. All of the women in the study had undergone their abortions thanks to New York’s pre-Roe legalization and had died between July 1, 1970 and June 30, 1972.

While nine of the cases appear to match some of those documented in another study, the person who was given the designation “Case 3” did not appear to match any known report. (She is given a pseudonym here to avoid dehumanizing her by reducing her to a number.) In addition, her postmortem findings were found to be suspicious considering the listed cause of death.

“Phyllis” underwent her saline abortion at approximately 18 weeks pregnant. The hazardous method was performed by a New York City hospital, apparently as an outpatient procedure. After receiving the hypertonic saline injections, she was discharged.

The next day, Phyllis returned to the hospital with a fever of 104 degrees. After delivering her dead child, she continued to bleed. Vacuum aspiration was performed and the hospital began treating her for septic shock and abnormally decreased urine output.

Even though she had been healthy with no history of serious illness, Phyllis died in three days. Her postmortem report showed peculiar results which may cast doubt on whether or not her complications had been diagnosed and treated correctly.

Even though Phyllis’s diagnosis during her hospitalization had been septic shock, her blood cultures showed no growth at all. Cervical cultures were reported to have grown “multiple organisms,” but did not list what organisms, whether or not they were infectious or which species were likely to have caused her death. Her uterus, which would most likely have been the site of initial infection, had “no gross evidence of infection” and there was a note that “microscopic preparations were not available”.

Phyllis had both air and fluid in her pleural space. She had been suffering from generalized tissue edema which was stated as “being suggestive of fluid overloading.” Despite all of these findings (and in some cases lack of them), her cause of death was still given as sepsis.

The study that later recorded Phyllis’s death regarded the autopsy findings with some degree of skepticism. While the study listed the diagnosis of sepsis as her cause of death, the authors wrote that “the description of [her] uterus must be considered as questionable.”

Analysis

What really happened to Phyllis? While at this point it may be impossible to know for sure, there are several possible explanations for the suspicious postmortem findings. One is that she really did die of sepsis, but that the lab work was mishandled. If, as the study noted, the description of her uterus was questionable, it could be possible that it was simply poorly examined.

Another possibility is that Phyllis was misdiagnosed and that the hospital decided to list her cause of death as a match for her initial diagnosis to avoid suspicion of malpractice. That may explain why important microscopic preparations were reportedly “unavailable.”

The findings of the autopsy may also indicate that Phyllis may have suffered another complication from saline abortion: hypervolemic hypernatremia. Hypernatremia, an electrolyte imbalance from dangerous levels of salt in the body, had already been well-established to have killed saline abortion clients by the time Phyllis was killed. If this had been the case for her, it could have caused hypervolemia as her body desperately tried to hold onto fluids to regulate her osmotic levels. This is highly consistent with the observations of generalized edema and fluid overloading and could also have explained her abnormalities in urine output. She also suffered disseminated intravascular coagulopathy or DIC, a well-documented symptom in many abortion deaths involving saline in the bloodstream.

(Considering that the same hospital had been responsible for the abortion and for treatment during Phyllis’s last days of life, there is a possibility that they would have an additional incentive to give her cause of death as sepsis. While still avoidable, sepsis could also have happened after birth, stillbirth or miscarriage, making a death from abortion-related sepsis seem more of an “acceptable” risk to some. However, death by hypernatremia after a massive dose of hypertonic saline in the bloodstream would not have occurred naturally for any of these, making her death without a doubt the result of the hospital’s actions.)

Yet another possibility combines some of the others: that the diagnosis of sepsis was correct and that Phyllis was suffering from undiagnosed hypernatremia. A study conducted decades after her death found correlations between hypernatremia and risk of developing sepsis. Both sepsis and hypernatremia can also cause similar problems such as kidney dysfunction, so it is possible that Phyllis died of a combination of complications. Her DIC could be explained by saline in the bloodstream, sepsis or both.

At this point it may not be possible to know for sure which exact complications killed Phyllis. What was never in doubt, however, is that she and her baby were two more preventable deaths from pre-Roe legalized abortion in New York City.

(All above images are from the study)