#Private Investigators investigation Methods

[privateinvestigatorssingapore]

Investigation Methods of Private Investigators Singapore

Succinctly, private investigation is an art. An art nurtured through observation and communication. Private investigators in Singapore have mastered this art with indomitable resolve, unwavering dedication, and an unerring eye for detail. This mastery has a profound story, rooted in the pervasive methods and ethical standards that govern their operations. Allow us to offer you a glimpse into the intriguing world of private investigators in Singapore, as we unravel the secrets of their investigative prowess.

Types of Private Investigators investigation Methods:

Two powerful tools sit in the investigative arsenal of Singapore's private investigators. The first is observation, meticulously watching, noting, recording – all with the patience of a hunter stalking its prey. The second, communication, is the art of conversation, of gleaning information from a simple chat, or a detailed interview. At Kokusai - Catch Cheating Spouse (since 1984), these are not just methods. They are the fundamental pillars of successful, impactful investigation.

In the realm of observation, surveillance reigns supreme. It is the persistent, careful eye that sees what others miss, and records what others dismiss. But observation alone is half the battle. This is where communication steps in, footing the other half of the investigative journey. Through conversations and interviews, investigators gather invaluable information, piecing together the puzzle that is their case.

Information gathering in private investigation is akin to a well-choreographed dance. Observation and communication take turns leading, each playing its part in solving the mystery at hand. When combined effectively, they create a symphony of insights, leading to the truth behind every situation.

Private Investigators Singapore Business Ethics:

Kokusai - Catch Cheating Spouse private investigators in Singapore are not just about successful investigations. They are also fervently committed to adhering to the highest moral and ethical standards. Three values echo loudly in their work – professionalism, integrity, and confidentiality. And these are not mere words to these private investigators. They are the principles that guide every investigative endeavor they undertake.

Professionalism for them means performing the job with unwavering dedication, ensuring accuracy, and efficiency in their service delivery. It also means adhering to strict legislative and regulatory requirements, creating a healthy balance between getting results and abiding by the law. This commitment to professionalism is a testament to their standing as reliable, trustworthy investigators in Singapore.

Integrity, for them, is synonymous with loyalty, honesty, and reliability. These are not just business ethics; they are an integral part of Investigation. They ensure that every interaction, every relationship, is built on a foundation of utmost trust and respect.

Lastly, confidentiality. Safeguarding critical information is more than an ethical standard; it's a solemn vow. A vow that our private investigators take to heart, protecting your secrets as if they were their own.

How is Private Investigation Client-Oriented?

Private Investigation at Kokusai - Catch Cheating Spouse (since 1984) is not a one-size-fits-all solution. It is tailored, bespoke, designed to fit the precise needs of every client. This client-oriented approach is woven into the very fabric of their operations, guiding their every move. How do they achieve this? Let's delve into this further.

Understanding the Client’s Needs: For our private investigators, the first step towards successful investigations starts with understanding the client’s specific needs. By establishing the WHO, WHEN, WHERE, WHY, and HOW of the case, they can carefully strategize their path to gathering relevant information.

Formulating a Plan: Based on these details, they formulate a detailed investigation plan. This plan is not set in stone; it evolves as the case does, reflecting the dynamism of the investigative process.

Executing the Plan: Once the plan is set, the private investigators hit the ground running, implementing the plan with meticulous precision. Balancing observation and communication, they leave no stone unturned, relentlessly pursuing the truth until they find it.

Police Investigation and Private Investigation:

At the core, the principles of police investigation and private investigation are identical. However, the paths they tread in their quest for the truth are as distinct as day and night. A private investigator's path is defined by the legal framework that binds them, a framework that sets the limits, and also broadens the horizons.

In Singapore, private investigation is regulated by law. This means that while the police and private investigators share the same quest for truth, their modus operandi is vastly different. The police operate within the broad scope of public safety, while private investigators focus on the individual nuances of each case they undertake.

Data collection is another arena where they diverge. While the police collect data for their records, private investigators respect the privacy of their clients. They collect personal information solely for investigation & administration purposes, keeping all information for more than three years, in accordance with the Police Licensing & Regulatory Department (PLRD) guideline.

What is an Investigation Interview and How is it Professionally Conducted?

An investigation interview is more than just a conversation; it is a meticulous method of gathering information. Let’s understand how - 

Preparation: Before the interview, the private investigator prepares comprehensively. This includes researching the interviewee, formulating relevant questions, and creating an environment conducive to open conversation.

Conducting the Interview: During the interview, the investigator listens attentively, probes strategically, and adapts to the interviewee's responses. They handle the interview with sensitivity, tact, and professionalism, ensuring a productive conversation.

Concluding the Interview: After the interview, the private investigator summarizes the conversation, allows the interviewee to correct any inaccuracies, and assures them of the confidentiality of the interview.

Interviewer Skills and Techniques

Effective interviewing requires a particular set of skills and techniques. At Kokusai - Catch Cheating Spouse (since 1984), each private investigator is trained in these, honing their abilities to extract useful information without infringing on the interviewee’s rights or comfort. They are not just investigators; they are empathetic listeners, strategic questioners, and unbiased observers.

A professional investigator's toolkit includes effective listening and communication skills, the ability to adapt their approach based on the interviewee's reactions, and the diligence to prepare thoroughly before each interview. These skills allow them to delve into the details without crossing the boundaries of respect and empathy.

Lastly, the ability to conclude the interview effectively is a valuable skill. The process entails summarizing the key highlights, providing the interviewee with an opportunity to review and amend the summary, and ensuring the confidentiality of the gathered information. This effectively wraps up the interview on a positive note, while also leaving the possibility of future discussions open if needed.

How to Handle Minority/Diversity/Discriminatory Issues? 

In their quest for truth, private investigators often deal with sensitive subjects – issues related to diversity, discrimination, and minority rights. At Kokusai - Catch Cheating Spouse (since 1984), handling these delicate matters is of paramount importance. Sensitive questions about sex, race, language, and religious practices are handled carefully. The goal is to gather information, not to offend or belittle the interviewee. This sensitivity extends to physical exhibits as well. Any exhibits provided at the interview are handled with care, preserving the evidence while respecting the interviewee's personal boundaries.

Assuring the interviewee of confidentiality is another critical aspect. Each interviewee receives a guarantee that all aspects of the interview will remain strictly confidential. This not only cultivates trust but also nurtures a feeling of safety, thereby motivating the interviewee to share their information without concerns of retaliation or disclosure.

Conclusion

In the end, For mastering in investigation methods you need meticulous observation, effective communication, a strict adherence to ethical standards, and a client-oriented approach. These are the pillars that define the art of private investigation in Singapore – the harmony that creates the symphony of truth. 

If you want to know more details about investigation methods of Kokusai - Catch Cheating Spouse (since 1984), Then you can visit catchcheatingspouse.sg and privateinvestigatorsingapore.com.sg to know more about our Investigation services or Call : [phone].

#private investigations methods #Private Investigators investigation Methods #Private Investigators Singapore investigation Methods #private investigation agency #private investigation #private investigators #private investigators singapore #private investigation services in singapore #spy agency in singapore #detective #investigation #investigators

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Dow promised to turn sneakers into playground surfaces, then dumped them in Indonesia

Dow Chemicals plastered Singapore with ads for its sneaker recycling program, promising to turn old shoes into playground tracks. But the shoes it collected in its “recycling” bins were illegally dumped in Indonesia. This isn’t an aberration: it’s how nearly all plastic recycling has always worked.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/26/career-criminals/#fool-me-twice-three-times-four-times-a-hundred-times

Plastic recycling’s origin story starts in 1973, when Exxon’s scientists concluded that plastic recycling would never, ever be cost-effective (#ExxonKnew about this, too). Exxon sprang into action: they popularized the recycling circular arrow logo and backed “anti-littering” campaigns that blamed the rising tide of immortal, toxic garbage on peoples’ laziness.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/14/they-knew/#doing-it-again

Remember the campaign where an Italian guy dressed like a Native American shed a single tear as he contemplated plastic litter? Funded by the plastic industry, as a way of shifting blame for plastic waste from the wealthy, powerful corporations who lied about plastics recycling to the individuals who believed their lies:

https://www.chicagotribune.com/opinion/commentary/ct-perspec-indian-crying-environment-ads-pollution-1123-20171113-story.html

When I was a kid in Ontario, we had centralized, regulated, reusable bottle depots — beer and soda bottles came in standard sizes, differentiated by paper labels that could be pressure-washed off. When you were done with your bottle, you returned it for a deposit and it got washed and returned to bottlers to be refilled again and again and again.

After intense lobbying from soda companies, brewers and the plastic industry, that program was replaced with curbside “blue boxes” that promised to recycle our plastic waste. 90% of the plastics created has never been — and will never be — recycled. Today, the plastic industry plans on tripling the amount of single-use plastic in use worldwide:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/26/plastic-fatalistic/#recycled-lies

You know those ads from companies like Bluetriton (formerly “Nestle Waters”) that promise that your single-use plastic bottles are “100% recyclable…and can be used for new bottles and all sorts of new, reusable things?”

Bluetriton is a private equity-backed rollup that has absorbed most of the bottled water companies you’re familiar with, including Poland Spring, Pure Life, Splash, Ozarka, and Arrowhead. When they were sued in DC for making false claims about their “recyclable” water-bottles, their defense was that these were “non-actionable puffery.” According to Bluetriton, when it described itself as “a guardian of sustainable resources” and “a company who, at its core, cares about water,” it was being “vague and hyperbolic.”

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/26/plastic-fatalistic/#recycled-lies

With this high standard for plastic recycling, Dow’s Singapore scam shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it seems to have surprised the government of Singapore. Writing for Reuters, Joe Brock, Yuddy Cahya Budiman and Joseph Campbell describe how they caught Dow red-handed:

https://www.reuters.com/investigates/special-report/global-plastic-dow-shoes/

The method is actually pretty straightforward: Reuters hid tracking devices in cavities in the soles of sneakers, dropped them in one of Dow’s collection bins, and then followed them. The shoes were passed onto Dow’s subcontractor, Yok Impex Pte Ltd, who sent them hopping from island to island throughout Indonesia, until they ended up in junk-markets.

Not all the shoes, though — one pair was simply moved from Dow’s collection bin to a donation bin at a Singaporean community center. Of the 11 pairs that Reuters tracked, not one ended up at a recycling facility. So much for Dow’s slogan: “Others see an old shoe. We see the future.”

Dow blamed all this on Yok Impex, but didn’t explain why its “recycling” program involved a company whose sole trade is exporting used clothing. Dow promised to cancel its deal with Yok Impex, but Yok Impex’s accountant told Reuters that the deal would be remain in place until the end of the contract. Yok Impex, meanwhile, shifted the blame to the low-waged women who sort through the clothing donations it takes in from across Singapore.

Indonesia bans bulk imports of used clothes, on the grounds that used clothes are unhygenic, displace the local textiles industry, and shipments contain high volumes of waste that ends up in Indonesian incinerators, landfills and rivers.

In other words, Singaporeans thought they were saving the planet by putting their shoes in Dow bins, but they were really sending those shoes on a long journey to an unlicensed dump. Dow enlisted schoolchildren in used-shoe collection drives, making upbeat videos that featured students like Zhang Youjia boasting that they “contributed 15 pairs of shoes.”

Dow does this all the time. In 2021, Dow’s “breakthrough technology to turn plastic waste into clean fuel” in Idaho was revealed to be a plain old incinerator:

https://www.reuters.com/investigates/special-report/environment-plastic-oil-recycling/

Also in 2021, in India, a Dow program to “use high-tech machinery to transform the [plastic from the Ganges] into clean fuel” was revealed to have ceased operations — but was still collecting plastic and promising that it was all being turned into fuel:

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-environment-plastic-insight-idUSKBN29N024

Dow operates a nearly identical “shoe recycling” program in neighboring Malaysia, and did not return Reuters’ requests for comment as to whether the shoes collected for “recycling” in the far more populous nation were also being illegally dumped offshore.

The global business lobby loves the idea of “personal responsibility” and its evil twin, “caveat emptor.” Its pet economists worship the idea of “revealed preferences,” claiming that when we use plastic, we may claim that we don’t want to have our bodies poisoned with immortal, toxic microplastics, that we don’t want our land and waters despoiled — but we actually love it, because otherwise we’d “vote with our wallets” for something else.

The obvious advantage of telling people to vote with their wallets is that the less money you have in your wallet, the fewer votes you get. Companies like Dow have used their access to the capital markets (a fancy phrase for “rich people”) to gobble up their competitors, eliminating “wasteful competition” and piling up massive profits. Those profits are laundered into policy — like replacing Ontario’s zero-waste refillable bottle system with a “recycling” system that sent plastics to the ends of the Earth to be set on fire or buried or dumped in the sea.

The ruling class’s pet economists have a name for this policy laundering: they call it “regulatory capture.” Now, when you hear “regulatory capture,” you might think about companies that get so big that they are able to boss governments around, with the obvious answer that companies need to be regulated before they get too big to jail:

https://doctorow.medium.com/small-government-fd5870a9462e

But that’s not how elite economists talk about regulatory capture: for them, capture starts with the very existence of regulators. For them, any government agency that proposes to protect the public from corporate fraud and murder inevitably becomes an agent of the corporations it is supposed to rein in, so the only answer is to eliminate regulators altogether:

https://doctorow.medium.com/regulatory-capture-59b2013e2526

This nihilism lets rich people blame the rest of us for their sins: “if you didn’t want your children to roast or freeze to death in the climate emergency, you should have sold your car and used the subway (that we bribed your city not to build).”

Nihilism is contagious. Think of the music industry: before Napster, 80% of the music ever recorded was not for sale, banished to the scrapheap of history and the vaults of record companies who paid farcically low sums to their artists.

During the File Sharing Wars, listeners were excoriated for failing to pay for music — much of which wasn’t for sale in the first place. But today, fans overwhelmingly pay for Spotify, a streaming service that notoriously pays musicians infinitesimal sums for their work.

Spotify is a creature of the Big Three labels — Sony, Universal and Warner — who own 70% of all the world’s recorded music copyrights and 65% of all the world’s music publishing. The rock-bottom per-stream prices that Spotify pays were set by the Big Three. Why would the labels want less money from Spotify?

Simple: as co-owners of Spotify, they make more money when Spotify pays less for music. Musicians have a claim on the money they take out of Spotify as royalties — but dividends, buybacks and capital gains from Spotify are the labels’ to use as they see fit. They can share that bounty with some artists, all artists, or no artists.

Not only that, but the Big Three’s deal with Spotify includes a “most favored nation” clause, which means that the independent artists who aren’t under Sony/UMG/Warner’s thumb have to take the rock-bottom rate the Big Three insisted on — likewise the small labels who compete with the Big Three. The difference is that none of these artists and small labels have massive portfolios of Spotify stock, nor do they get free advertising on Spotify, or free inclusion on hot Spotify playlists, or monthly minimum payouts from Spotify.

The idea that we shop at the wrong kind of monopolist in the wrong way is a recipe for absolute despair. It doesn’t matter whether you listen to music with the Big Tech-owned monopoly service (Youtube) or the Big Content-owned monopoly service (Spotify). The money you hand over to these giant companies goes to artists the same way that the sneakers you put in a Dow collection bin goes to a recycling plant.

Think of the billions of human labor hours we all spent washing and sorting our plastics for a recycling program that didn’t exist and will never exist — imagine if we’d spent that time and energy demanding that our politicians hold petrochemical companies to account instead.

At the end of Break ’Em Up, Zephyr Teachout’s outstanding 2020 book on monopolies, Teachout has some choice words for “consumerism” as a theory of change. She writes that if you’re on your way to a protest against a new Amazon warehouse but you never make it because you waste too much time looking for a mom-and-pop stationers to sell you a marker to write your protest sign, Amazon wins:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/29/break-em-up/#break-em-up

The problem isn’t that you shop the wrong way. Yes, by all means, support the creators and producers you care about in the way that they prefer, but keep your eye on the prize. Structural problems don’t have individual solutions. The problem isn’t that you have chosen single-use plastics — it’s that in our world everything for sale is packaged in single-use plastics. The problem isn’t that you’ve bought a subscription to the wrong music streaming service — it’s that labels have been allowed to buy all their competitors, creators’ unions have been smashed and degraded, and giant accounting scams by big companies generate minuscule fines.

The good news is that after 40 years of despair inducing regulatory nihilism and “vote with your wallet” talk, we’re finally paying attention to systemic problems, with a new generation of trustbusting radicals working around the world to end corporate impunity.

Dow is a repeat offender. A repeat, repeat offender. Chrissakes, they’re the linear descendants of Union Carbide, the company that poisoned Bhopal:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhopal_disaster

They shouldn’t be trusted to run a lemonade stand, let alone a “recycling” program. The same goes for Big Tech and Big Content company and the markets for creative labor. These companies have repeatedly demonstrated their unfitness, their habitual deception and immorality. These companies have captured their regulators, repeatedly, so we need better regulators — and weaker companies.

The thing I love about Teachout’s book is that it talks about what we should be demanding from our governments — it’s a manifesto for a movement against corporate power, not a movement for “responsible consumerism.” That was the template that Rebecca Giblin and I followed when we wrote Chokepoint Capitalism, our book about the brutal, corrupt creative labor market:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

We have a chapter on Spotify (multiple chapters, in fact!). For our audiobook, we made that chapter a “Spotify Exclusive” — it’s the only part of the book you can get on Spotify, and it’s free:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/12/streaming-doesnt-pay/#stunt-publishing

Next Thu (Mar 2) I’ll be in Brussels for Antitrust, Regulation and the Political Economy, along with a who’s-who of European and US trustbusters. It’s livestreamed, and both in-person and virtual attendance are free. On Fri (Mar 3), I’ll be in Graz for the Elevate Festival.

[Image ID: A woman kneeling to tie her running shoe. She stands on a background of plastic waste. In the top right corner is the logo for Dow chemicals. Below it is the Dow slogan, 'Others see an old shoe. We see the future.']

#pluralistic

[girlwithamissingpearl]

I understand things have been dry in Outlander land but even desert dry has me smh. Ladies, if you have to try that hard to shit all over SH, I’m not saying it makes you a hater but it sure as shit doesn’t make you a liker.

Back after a bit- admit it, we all need to occasionally take a break- I feel I needed to pace myself during the drought. But after a bit of scrolling, I felt compelled to dive right in. Isn’t this fandom about fun, entertainment and guilty pleasure? That’s why I’m here. So why the endless posts from the SH haters? Do people dislike SH, enjoy the snark or just think the man is stupid?

So just for fun (or insomnia) I thought I would play a short game of SH: Stupid, Smart or just SMH?

1. SH and Cons/Private events for $

Why do people have such a problem with SH trying to make a living? Most if not all actors part of a series or movie franchise participate. In my opinion SH is doing it now, so he won’t need to in his 60’s to pay the rent. While most fans are priced out of the more exclusive events, all I can say is the paying fans are the only ones that never complain. Supply and demand. If any charitable component is part of the deal, great. So can we finally put a line under this?

Verdict: Smart as hell

2. SH always “Shilling” SS to his Fans and on SM

Uhm, he is the brand. It’s his company. Can it be a bit much? Yes. Promotion to the fan base and the use of sm is marketing 101. In order for people to try the product they need to know about the product. We can disagree as to his methods or success to date, but fans are not the only ones buying bottles. As for the constant and consistent presence of AN with SH during events? Suddenly they are a couple? WTF. AN is a business partner. He owns part of the business. They both work hard promoting SS, and so far it looks like they will continue to release more SS. Ladies, don’t put your lawn chairs away yet!😉

Verdict: Smart

3. SH and boundaries with his fans

Regardless of the letter you attach to SH, he is a recognized actor around the world. Definitely a people pleaser, in imho, he will happily take a selfie with anyone. Obviously, he never wants to disappoint any fan, but his lack of boundaries and security at events can be cringe worthy at times. If a female actor was touched, mauled, or asked to sign fans boobs or t-shirts it would be a #me too moment. Someone, anyone in security or a handler needs to be bad cop if he won’t. How far is too far?

Verdict: Stupid with a side of SMH

4. SH as a Philanthropist and Charitable Causes

This one really bugs me. MPC has raised over $6m for charity. SH’s name attached to any cause raises awareness and $. The BS from the haters who discount this based on the fact SH apparently never donates his own money is petty nonsense. Gentleman’s ride is one example. Agree it was his female fans that made it happen. And? This is my only fandom but SH is held to an impossible standard. Apparently he is a hypocrite in his support for clean oceans because someone on his team had a catered lunch using single use plastics. Great topic for discussion, but the man didn’t throw the containers in the ocean. Also let’s not judge a person’s commitment based on sm posts. SH can literally, yes ladies literally never win. Thankfully the causes he supports do. I dare you to disagree.

Verdict: Smart

5A. SH’s dating life

According to an extremely ardent part of this fandom, SH has dated😉 every fit blonde 👱‍♀️ within a 250 mile radius of everywhere. I wish that someone would keep track of all the mysterious initials and lack of any literal proof of these women. This is where I separate the snark from the hater’s. While I’m in owe of the investigative skills of some, and enjoy the gossip-even though mom thought gossip was a sin, sorry mom- not all women aka initials welcome the attention. Any woman save CB that SH is remotely warranted or not attached to, has an avalanche of hate comments and 💩emoji in their future, welcome or not. Personally, I believe SH, goes out of his way to protect the people he cares about, and perhaps even those he may not. I think we can agree he is not a monk. However an actor is entitled to privacy. Ginger Jesus included.

5B. SH ‘s Sexuality

From the beginning, 3 years for me, I’ve read posts about someone who knew a friend of a friend of a bartender’s friend who knew for a fact SH had a boyfriend. WTF. You know the drought is real when this bullshit gets recycled. We all know the question has been asked and answered by SH. More than once. Next.

Verdict: SH keeping his private life private: Smart as hell.

6. SH and the use of all things Outlander related

If you don’t get it, I don’t have the time and am too lazy to explain it to you.

Verdict: Smart. Smart as hell

7. SH and CB

The only real problem here is obvious. And I don’t know why the fans or even the haters- btw, I use the term haters like I do profanity- perhaps not the best word, but like GFY, FU, MF, C, etc. I’m lazy and it saves time and no confusion to whom I address. So where the actual f&ck is the audition tape we all want to see? You know the part of which I speak. If only the fandom investigators could put aside any petty differences and uncover the SH, CB chemistry kiss tape? I’m not saying it will be a unifying and CTJ moment, but it would give SH fans something to make the drought less….thirsty.

No verdict necessary. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨😚😉

And last but definitely not least…

8. SH and Thirst Traps

Ladies, because of Outlander and all things Outlander related, we’ve had the pleasure to observe SH from every view and lovely angle. Come on, if you 👀 closely it’s all there. Why the actual f&ck people in this fandom have a problem with his shirtless posts is beyond me. Not only is he promoting the results a good fitness regime can produce, he is literally, yes literally giving his fans something they want. And don’t even try me with- you’re treating him like an object. This is a 100% consensual relationship. And if the word “hater” seems harsh about the same gang that complains and shits all over his shirtless thirst traps, then please find me a better name.

Verdict: Smart as hell and thank you

So for those who may not get it, this post is silly and something for my handful of friends or any SH fan to have a laugh. If anyone has the patience to read the entire thing😉 So any comments are welcome, but to the people or person sending awful and cowardly anon messages: save your time. Or GFY. See what I did there?🤓

#outlander #outlander season 7 #sam cait #sam heughan #sassanach #men in kilts #men in kilts 2 #waypoints #clanlands

[emptyjunior]

The concept of Riz dying decades or in some cases Centuries before his friends is too sad for me, anyways Riz isekai/regression au. 

So Riz, at the end of his life, I assume a decorated private investigator, maybe in and out of many agencies until he like unearthed corruption in them and got kicked out, you know just general Riz stuff.  

I think he would honestly get Jacked, but in like a wiry way, I think by the time he was old his combat sense and powers of deduction would be Insane even if his body cannot keep up with his mind anymore. 

And then I assume he’d die peacefully in bed OR in a dramatic and horrifying conspiracy, possibly on a sinking boat or a waterfall, that all his friends would have to investigate in his honour. 

So Riz dead, gone, finally at peace. 

Or at least he Thinks, BEEP BEEP annoying sound of alarm clock waking him up for his first day of school. 

Chronomancy is most likely to blame. 

So general premise is Riz instantly goes from an awkward teen scrambling to solve his babysitter’s disappearance, with no resources or social skills, twitchy and underfed to a calm and seasoned detective. I think that morning when Sklonda goes to see where he is, he’s made her breakfast, bacon and pancakes. And as she sits down in shock at the table, he quietly slides a file over to her which is every active case she’s working on, methodically solved with notes and clearly explained timelines to the culprit. And if she turns it over to the back, there’s also a resignation letter in there and an application to law school ready to be filled out. And when Sklonda looks up at Riz shaken, he just gives her a kiss on the forehead and a smile like he’s seeing someone he hasn’t seen for many years and then calmly goes to class. 

I also want: 

-Dealing with bullies that first day like Ragh and Fabian like he’s greeting loved ones. Darting out of their attempts to grab him with a dancer’s flourish that he could have only learnt from a high elf... 

-I think Fabian would be a Big Part of his plans (because the most fun part of regression time travel stories is when they start Amassing wealth) so I think he honestly just goes straight to his house, tells Bill Seacaster that him and his son are best friends (which Fabian would SCREAM at if he got humiliated by this goblin earlier that day) and then challenges Bill to a shooting contest and thrashes him, which makes Bill keel over with laughter, offer him a place on his crew, offers him his son’s hand (Fabian is hitting critical levels of red anger embarrassed face at this point) 

-Other fun ways to gather wealth, Riz just robs Kalvaxus. Just remembers every little detail about the accounts from his files, goes to the bank, gives all the current passwords, transfers the Entire dragonhoard to his own account 

-And yes the plot would all be decimating Goldenhoard that first year, so Riz just saves every girl before they’re captured, the maidens that have already been taken, hunts them down. I think he goes to the gas station that Johnny Spells and his friend’s occupy, locks the door and walks right into this den of bikers, just full Kingsman fight sequence decimates them. Because I think he would feel So good getting a body back that hasn’t been rung with years of stress and Kristen Shenanigans that he is in like peak condition 

-First Day finds the rogue teacher which is why he has so much time for running around preparing everyone’s future

-I think, honestly, he shoots Coach Daybreak in the head on sight and gets sent to the principal’s office and Aguefort’s like “are you doing a chronomancy?” and he says yea and Aguefort’s like sweet, carry on 

I think he finds Jawbone taking terrible paying bouncer jobs, and just offers him a bodyguard/assistant job so he has a little buddy to investigate with.

Starts a full out war with Helio followers because they had way too much reach in town, and when they try to debate with him he has Way more knowledge about their scripture than they do and some truly dangerous deity blackmail locked and loaded and Helio himself comes down and says haha leave this kid alone he just implied he can reincarnate a God, let’s go, let’s go.

Finds some insane legal loophole that absolutely strips Adaine and Aelwyn’s parents of influence and gives their children power over all their assets. Weirdly becomes very close friends with Aelwyn, maybe it’s because they both have the same taste in liquor now.

I think he’d start an information guild that involves like Zayn Darkshadow, Fig in her many disguises, Aelwyn and surprisingly Kipperlilly. Also Kalina! And he knows exactly how to summon her and keeps saying things to her that are friendly yet intimidating and it freaks her out.

Walks up to gorgug, hands him a study plan pathway to MCAT and walks off leaving gorgug very confused (and probably asking if he was his dad) 

Just fun time travel future knowledge shenanigans! And I cannot restate again, we saw how quick a Junior Year Riz is at investigating and making leaps to the right answer. By the time he is at the end of his life, I feel like he’s reached moriarty levels of detective prowess. The many new enemies he keeps making keep coming to him and he just strips them down with his powers of deduction. He’s looking at how one person favours their left side, or the crumbs on their wrist and knows everything there is to know about them. 

So just Freshman Year, the perfect run, Riz with a lot of angst in a very satisfying detective story getting closure for a lot of things. 

#i read a Lot of manga if you're wondering #dimension 20 #d20 #fantasy high #brennan lee mulligan #riz gukgak #isekai #au #time travel #brian murphy #text post

[cool-fancier]

Cherries of Mystery

Synopsis: Fans were left in a state of speculation as you and Bada subtly hinted to your relationship on Instagram with cryptic cherry-themed posts. You two took joy in the anticipation as fans analysed every aspect, knowing that the cherry symbols meant for your humble and wonderful love for one another.

Even the slightest actions can excite fans in the world of social media and K-pop idols. Keeping your relationship a secret had become somewhat of an art form for you, a famous K-pop idol, and Bada, her equally famous choreographer and secret girlfriend.

You made the choice to have some fun one nice afternoon by subtly hinting at their relationship on Instagram. You uploaded a picture of yourself with a sneaky, amusing grin on your lips and said, "Lips taste like cherry." You and Bada were making a small inside joke, so it was meant to be mysterious.

Bada, who was aware of the situation, couldn't help but chuckle when she read your post. She made the decision to join in and start her own rumour. Bada took a photo of herself with a cherry-flavored lip balm, the brightly coloured container shining in the dim light. With the caption "Trying out some new lip products today! 🍒💄  #CherryKiss #NewFavorites," she posted the photo to Instagram.

Fans started making connections in only a few minutes. Comments began to flood in on both of their posts.

@Y/NLoveNotes:"Did anyone else notice that they both posted something about cherries today? 👀"

@BadaDanceLovers: "I smell a conspiracy here! 🕵️‍♀️"

@DancingLovebirds: "OMG, my shipper heart can't take this. Are they trying to tell us something?"

@BadaxY/NAdmirers:"I'm convinced there's more to this cherry story! spill the tea, queens!"

As fans examined every aspect of the posts in an effort to figure out the secret message, the interest and excitement reached an all-time high. Even if it was vague, the cherry symbolism was enough to spark their imaginations. It was a clever method for you and Bada to tease fans without drawing attention to your relationship.

The cherry-themed mystery held fans attention throughout the day on social media pages. They investigated Bada's and your posts more and more, getting more and more engrossed in the puzzle.

@BadaEnthusiasts:"Okay, hear me out. What if 'lips taste like cherry' means they've been kissing? 👄🍒"

@BadaSecretAdmirers:"I see you with that theory, but what about Bada's lip balm pic? Is she hinting that she tasted cherries too?"

@Y/NMagicFans:"This is like a K-pop Da Vinci Code. I'm invested!"

You and Bada, meantime, found the fan theories and the amount of attention their posts were getting to be very amusing. You had a nice laugh over the situation in a private.

You: "Babe, it seems like they've onto us. The cherry game is strong."

"Haha, we're turning into quite the mystery queens," said Bada.

You: "But seriously, I really like how they're enjoying themselves. And they have no idea how much fun we're having too!"

Bada: "Our secret is safe, and they're none the wiser."

The mystery behind your and Bada's cherry-themed social media posts only grew as the days went by. Fans couldn't resist acting as amateur investigators in an effort to unravel the meaning of these cryptic messages.

@Badaismine:"Okay, guys, new theory! What if they're just messing with us? Maybe there's no hidden meaning at all!"

@Y/Nwife:"But why the sudden cherry obsession? There's gotta be something more."

@Bada_isY/nwife:"I heard they're working on a new project together. Maybe it's related?"

The speculation ranged from the plausible to the utterly fantastical, and you and Bada couldn't help but smile at the frenzy you had unintentionally created.

You say, "Babe, our cherry posts are the talk of the town!"

Bada: "I find it unbelievable that they are still trying to solve it. It's just too much fun."

You: "Should we drop a hint for them? Or do we let them keep guessing?"

Bada: "Let's keep the mystery alive a bit longer. We'll watch to see how inventive they can be."

And so, the cherry-themed mystery continued to swirl in the K-pop fandom. Every aspect of your and Bada's posts relating to cherries was argued, theorised about, and examined by fans. Was it a humorous tease, a sign of their secret love, or just a joke between them?

The cherry saga was not resolved as the weeks passed. The real significance of those cherry posts may never be revealed to the public, but Bada and You understood that they stood for your love, which was sweet and unassuming like the cherries yourself. That was ultimately all that mattered to you both.

#bada lee x reader #bada lee #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bebe #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x oc #bada lee x y/n #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter x reader

[pippytmi]

spy!au + meet messy + you never saw me ? If not that's fine, I just thought it would be cool. :)

spy!au + meet messy + you never saw me 

“So on a scale of 1-10, how much do we hate the fiancée?”

A wry laugh escapes before Kara can even try to quell it, and she briefly removes the unlit cigarette from her mouth to muse, “You know, I've heard a saying that goes ‘never judge a book by its cover.’ Fascinating stuff, I might have to send it to you.”

“Ugh. Journalists—so idealistic.” But Nia is grinning as she snags the barstool at Kara's right. “Where is the elusive Lena Luthor anyway? Do we finally get to meet her?”

Kara shrugs. “Beats me,” she says. “Last I heard, she was running late.”

“Late to her own engagement party? Finally, someone I can get along with,” Nia says. Before Kara can even get a word in, Nia's attention is immediately stolen by the bartender coming over. “Hey M’gann, can I get an amaretto sour?”

“Sure thing,” M’gann says absentmindedly, her gaze otherwise zeroing in firmly on Kara. “Danvers, you better not smoke in my bar.”

“I won't,” Kara swears, raising both hands in a show of innocence, and M'gann rolls her eyes.

“Journalists,” she echoes Nia's earlier sentiment, but with an entirely exasperated deeper meaning. “I'm putting Nia's drink on your tab.”

“Well in that case…” Nia twists around, already waving her hand as if to beckon someone over. “Make it two, Kara's buying a drink for the bride to be. Alex! Don't—I know you can see me, come here.”

For as much as Alex stressed the importance of everyone showing up tonight, she doesn't seem very…well, happy. And while Alex is not typically one to gush, Kara had expected at least a smidgen of joy on her sister's face, not the harried expression she's currently sporting.

“What?” Alex asks, eyes them both suspiciously while fidgeting as if she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Um, hello to you too,” Nia says. “Clearly, you need this. Where's your soon-to-be better half?”

Alex accepts the drink when Nia presses it in her hand but frowns, however slight, at the question. “She's—on her way,” she says, pausing to take a sip from her glass before her gaze falls on her sister. “Oh, gross, Kara. Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t!” Kara pouts, feeling like a broken record. “Can’t I be edgy and have a cigarette to look cool?”

“That’s the most pretentious thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Nia says, delighted, while Alex just groans.

“Come on, Kara, not tonight. Just be normal for once in your life,” Alex sighs, already distractedly glancing back to the front door like she is willing her fiancée to just walk through any second.

“You guys don’t understand the intricacies of being a method actor,” Kara argues, waving her cigarette in the air to make her point. (And also, because it is kind of awkward to keep it in her mouth without doing anything with it, not that she’ll admit that). But it’s clear she only has half the audience she had a second ago; Alex is half a world away the second her phone starts to ring.

“I’ll be back,” Alex says, handing off her glass to Nia who is more than happy to finish it.

Kara dejectedly puts the cigarette back in her mouth. “I just realized something.”

“What?”

“I don’t actually know how to smoke. What if someone expects me to, like, smoke with them?”

Nia presses a fingertip to her chin and  ponders the question seriously. “Either you're screwed, or they will just think you're a dork. The reaction will depend on the person, really.”

Kara's shoulders slump. “So I won't be cool?”

“Journalists generally aren't cool,” Nia unhelpfully offers. “But I'm sure you could make it work for you. You'd be like…one of those grizzly story-seeking sleuth journalists.”

Kara groans, thumping her forehead on the bartop. “That seems more like a private investigator thing,” she says. “Darn it. I'm going to have to start from scratch.”

“I'm all in favor of quitting method acting for one night,” M'gann chimes in, still eyeing Kara's cigarette distastefully. “Now do you need a refill or are you going to fall asleep here?”

“Yeah, sure,” Kara says, lifting her head in order to sheepishly push her emptied club soda over. “Pour me a double.”

That joke never lands—M'gann just rolls her eyes and refills the glass, wiping her hands off before moving down to another patron. Nia scoots her stool closer to Kara once she's gone to reassuringly say,

“I like the pretentious cigarette. It makes you look like a hipster…they’re coming back into fashion, you know. Just like leg warmers.”

Kara wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think anyone really liked leg warmers.”

“That’s how I know you were unfashionable in high school,” Nia says. Then, apparently already bored with the topic at hand, she turns around in search of their former company. “Hey, where did Alex go? I haven’t even bought her a round of shots yet!”

“That’s a good question,” Kara says thoughtfully. “Maybe Lena showed up?” But when she swivels her chair to aid Nia’s search, she can't spot her sister either; considering Al’s Bar is a hole in the wall with not many patrons, that can only mean Alex has stepped out. “I'll go find her.”

All things considered, the night is pleasant—when Kara emerges without her jacket, the air isn't quite cool enough to make her go back in to retrieve it. She walks around the corner to the alley where everyone goes to smoke, but Alex isn’t there. Alex is also not in the 7-11 across the street, nor is she two doors down at the diner. (Kara orders a donut to go just to be 100% sure Alex won’t emerge from somewhere inside, of course, like a diligent sister).

Eventually, her pointless search leads her right back to Al’s. Nia has apparently had enough alcohol to drag Kelly to dance; Winn and James have begun a spirited game of pool; Querl has commandeered the jukebox and is studiously adding 80’s dance music to the queue. Alex, however, is still notably missing.

With a groan, Kara collapses at the bar again. “Can I get a water, M’gann?”

“You got it,” M’gann says, filling a fresh glass from the tap. She moves on immediately after to another customer, and Kara’s question about whether M’gann has seen Alex dies before it even forms. Kara sighs, takes a much-needed sip of her water, and resolves to just melt into her stool when all of a sudden she hears:

“Is this seat taken?”

It should be noted that, in the past, Kara has encountered situations far worse than this one. Moments where her life was in danger, even. She likes to think she has mastered the ability to remain unfazed in the face of the worst surprises at this point of her career.

But then again…she’s never actually met her sister’s fiancée before. And in a truly horrific turn of events, Kara ends up spit-taking all over her shoes.

“Oh crap, I am so sorry,” Kara says, making a mad grab for napkins off the bar and crouching down to pat at Lena’s heels. “Are you—okay, can I get, er, anything—” She doesn't even know how to apologize at this point, so tongue-tied she is just about to offer her own shoes off her feet.

Lena Luthor doesn't answer right away. She takes a delicate step down, and her hand covers Kara's in order to make her pause. When Kara musters the nerve to cautiously meet her eye, Lena gives her a small smile.

“It's fine.” Lena looks much more <i>vivid</i> than the photographs. Everything about her is sharp; the angles of her jaw, the eyeliner she wears, the intensity of her green eyes when they're trained on Kara. Even her voice edges on the sharper side, not quite cold but almost. “Kara, right? I recognize you from Alex's pictures.”

Kara barely remembers to nod. “Yes, I…recognize you too,” she says. “It's nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Lena draws her hand away immediately after, and Kara hastily rises up in order to put some space between them.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Kara asks quickly. “M'gann makes a great…sour.” She cannot for the life of her remember what it is that Nia ordered, and from the strange look on Lena’s face, she has 100% gotten the name wrong. “I don’t really drink.”

Somehow, that awkward confession makes Lena’s face twist, like she is trying not to smile. “Alex mentioned you’re sober,” she says. “I hope it’s alright, that she did.”

“No, yeah, it’s not a secret,” Kara says, but in her mind she’s thinking Alex and Lena talk about her? About what? Hopefully not embarrassing stuff. Shoot, knowing Alex, it’s 100% embarrassing stuff. “And I wouldn’t expect you to have any secrets with Alex either way, so.”

“Right.” Lena takes a careful seat besides Kara, her expression since gone entirely blank. She orders a scotch, Kara sticks to water, and they immediately maintain an awkward silence that M'gann raises a judgmental eyebrow at Kara for.

Kara clears her throat, desperate for any attempt of making nice she can muster. “So have you seen Alex?” she says.

“Today?” Lena has her glass raised to her lips, but she doesn't drink. “Not yet.”

“Oh. Well, I'm sure she's around here somewhere,” Kara says, and tries not to find it weird that Lena and Alex did not see each other at all today despite apparently living together.

This time Lena takes a long, thoughtful sip of her drink, and she turns her head to regard Kara silently. “Kara,” she says, as if testing the name all-too-carefully, practiced and halting like she wants to call Kara literally anything else. “Would it be a fair assessment to assume you don't like me?”

Kara’s grip on her glass falters in a single blink-or-miss-it second before she manages to control her surprise. “What?” she says weakly. “I know we don’t know each other, but, if Alex likes you of course I like you.” Flustered, she backtracks to say, “I mean Alex loves you. Obviously.”

Lena doesn’t put Kara out of her misery. At least, not right away. No, she just smooths out the imaginary wrinkles of her form-fitting dress that she has chosen to wear to this dive bar, drums her fingertips against the sticky wood of the bar counter, and gazes pensively beyond her company in a way that can only be described as lost. Then,

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant to be an accusation,” Lena says. “What I meant is, I'm sure you must despise the idea of me.” An attempt at a smile crosses Lena’s lips, but it’s a sad one. “Today was mostly about putting your mind at ease over any misconceptions you might have.”

“Well, I’ve only known about you for like a week, but I can honestly say I have zero thoughts about you,” Kara says quickly. Then frowns. “Wait. That was supposed to sound reassuring. Can I start over?”

The engagement ring on Lena’s finger shimmers even in the poor lighting, and she rests her cheek against her palm, gazing at Kara with a curious, half-amused kind of look in her eyes. “The floor’s yours.”

“I’m not the kind of person who assumes the worst about other people,” Kara says, reaching for her water again, if only to tip it towards Lena reassuringly before taking a quick sip. “And if you make Alex happy, then I can only assume you’re a good person. Also, you might be a saint to even put up with her.”

Lena’s mouth twists into a proper smile, however small. “The way you two talk about each other is so…” She shakes her head as if she can’t quite finish that thought. “You two are clearly very close.”

“Unfortunately, yeah, I'm stuck with her,” Kara quips, and that at least feels normal—talking about Alex is a safe topic. Even if she hasn’t bothered to come back to her own engagement party. “Do you have any siblings?”

“A brother.” Any semblance of a smile vanishes entirely at that, and Lena hastily finishes the remainder of her drink.

Kara gets the feeling she has said something horribly wrong. “And are you two also…close?” she finishes her train of thought awkwardly, even if she already knows the answer.

“No.” The stony way Lena clenches her jaw suggests that Kara isn't winning any brownie points, here, and she has to bite her tongue to stop from pushing on. “Excuse me, can I get another?” Lena beckons M’gann over when she has a second, and M’gann gives Kara another questioning look but doesn’t say anything to her directly.

“I’m sorry,” Kara feels the need to say. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oddly enough, I believe you,” Lena muses. “You did mention your sister has hardly talked about me.”

“I'm sure she would've,” Kara tries to reassure her. “I just don't see her too much nowadays, with my work.”

“Mm. You’re a journalist, right?” Lena asks, and there is something in her gaze that makes Kara feel hot under the collar. “Or was it a kindergarten teacher? I know you and your sister have an affinity for switching careers.” Something about the calculated way she pauses to take a sip of her drink, gaze expectant over the rim, causes Kara's heart to plummet into her stomach.

Kara, in turn, promptly chokes on air. “What? You—you know? About—” She stops. “I’m not sure Alex was allowed to tell you that.”

“Not even if we're going to get married?” Slowly, Lena begins to smile. It's a real smile, one Kara hadn't realized Lena was capable of until now. “Your sister might be the most by-the-book person I've ever met. Unfortunately for her, I was able to connect the dots about you myself.”

“Ah.” Kara drums her fingertips against the bar counter, feels her cheeks warm slightly with embarrassment.

Lena places a hand on Kara's forearm—a warm, gentle heat Kara can feel through the thin sleeve of her T-shirt. “That was no fault of yours,” she says reassuringly. “She slipped up talking about your job. It was fairly easy to connect the dots.”

Somehow, that does nothing to dissolve the dread slowly building up in Kara’s chest. Alex never slips up. Kara is the resident Danvers sister fuck up (Alex’s words exactly), and all at once Alex’s disappearance tonight becomes decidedly unsettling.

“When did she tell you about my job?” Kara blurts out. “Do you remember?”

“Yesterday, I think,” Lena says, and she regards Kara questioningly. “She was telling me about everyone who was going to be here today and what your friends do for work. Why?”

“Was she working? Looking at her computer or her phone or anything?”

“Yes, that’s all she ever does.” But it’s odd, the way Lena says it, like she’s not bothered in the slightest.

It could be nothing. It probably is nothing. But Kara still scans the bar with a renewed vigor in search of that familiar scowl that she cannot find. “She was just here,” Kara mutters aloud. “She wouldn’t have left without telling someone.”

“Alex?” Lena watches Kara carefully, no doubt trying to decide what to say. “Has she not told you if she’s running late?”

“No, she was here already,” Kara says. “I don’t think she would have—” She shakes her head to herself, cursing inwardly. She can’t assume that Alex has been dragged away for a work reason. Maybe it has something to do with Alex getting cold feet. Either way, telling her sister’s fiancée that the woman she’s supposed to marry has abandoned her engagement party doesn’t seem like it would do Alex any favors. “I’m sure she’s just in the bathroom or something. Uh, I’m going to just…” She pulls out her cigarette in a poor cover and says, “Go outside, for a smoke break, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Lena says. Then, “Would it be alright if I joined you?”

If Nia knew that Kara’s stupid cigarette would have led to this moment, she would laugh her ass off. Repeatedly. Kara supposes it’s a small mercy that Nia is still dancing with Kelly, so she is spared of any and all jokes at her expense.

It’s not until they’re outside that Kara sheepishly confesses: “So full disclosure…I don’t actually smoke.”

Lena doesn't look particularly surprised at the fact. “It's an odd thing to lie about,” she says, and tilts her head, surveying Kara with a sharp look. “Oh,” she says afterward. “I’m sorry. Clearly, you lied to get away from me, and here I am following you around.”

Kara swallows. Hard. “It’s not that,” she says, even though it kind of is. 

“It's okay.” Another touch, this time gently to Kara’s shoulder. Lena has a strange, half-wistful look on her face. “Take your break. I’ll go inside…I should introduce myself to Alex’s friends and keep it convincing.”

That is such a peculiar way to phrase an otherwise normal statement, and Kara feels her brow furrow subconsciously. “What?”

But Lena has turned away by the time Kara even forms the word, and Kara watches, bewildered, as Lena takes two steps forward before immediately whirling back around. There is no other way to describe it, but—Lena has gone sickly pale in the moonlight, as if she’s seen a ghost. Before Kara can ask what’s wrong, Lena has hurriedly bridged the gap between them and grasped Kara’s face with cold, shaking hands.

“Can you turn around?” Lena asks quietly.

Kara does, but she knows her cheeks have gone hot and red by now, so unaccustomed to both the proximity and the specific person before her. “Lena, what’s—”

“I have something very urgent to ask you, and please don’t overthink it,” Lena rushes to say.

“Okay.” Kara tries not to fidget; she has had a gun held to her head several times before and yet, this is the most overwhelmed she has felt in years.

“Can I kiss you?” 

Kara blinks. “What?”

“Please,” Lena adds on, as if that makes the question any saner.

And maybe it’s the desperation in Lena’s voice, in her eyes, in the way she keeps on trembling, but Kara recognizes someone in danger. She doesn’t understand what on Earth is going on, but she slowly nods, and trusts that if Alex kicks her ass later it will be for a good cause.

(Kara is not, however, prepared for Lena to immediately kiss her like she’s starving, hands still tight against Kara’s cheeks, dragging Kara so close that Kara is essentially caging her against the wall). 

It feels like forever, but not in a bad way. Kara hasn't kissed someone in so long that she feels clumsy, almost like she is outside of her own skin, hands falling against the gravel of the bar’s outside walls in order to stop herself from grabbing at the inviting curves of Lena’s waist.

When Lena gently pushes her away, Kara hastily steps back, digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands to keep from doing something dangerous (like reaching back in). Lena looks as if she's calmed down enough at least; she blushes when she meets Kara’s eyes, glancing down at the floor for a brief moment.

“Thank you,” Lena says. “God, if I was recognized out here of all places Alex would have lost it.”

“Recognized?” Kara echoes. She follows the way Lena jerks her head to the right, where the shadow of a man is disappearing into the alleyway. “I…don't follow.”

“That man used to work for my brother,” Lena sighs. “I don’t know if he would have remembered my face, but better safe than sorry.”

Kara opens her mouth, pauses, and then shuts it when she realizes she has no clue what to say. Her phone buzzes in an all-too-welcome distraction, but her blood runs cold when she sees it’s from Alex.

SENTINEL:

Can you tell everyone the party’s cancelled? Lena’s sick. Also let the cat back in before the night’s over.

“Shit,” Kara involuntarily curses when she sees that familiar code phrase. Suddenly everything makes sense: the secrecy, the mysterious brother, the fact that Lena cannot be recognized in the streets outside of a dive bar used as a front for the average spy (or average drunk that security allows in for the cover). “Lena, are you in witness protection?”

Lena squints at Kara like she is the one dropping a bombshell. “Yes? Did you not know that?”

“No! What the—why would Alex bring you here?!” Kara frantically texts her insane sister back.

SUPERGIRL:

Is there a curfew?

SENTINEL:

The sooner the better. I’m at Dad’s house right now or else I would do it myself.

That next coded message makes Kara exhale, finally, to at least know Alex is safe. Something big must have happened if she is dragging Kara into this without so much as a briefing, sure, but Kara also knows that Alex would not have trusted her with anything less.

“Lena,” Kara says, “can I ask you something urgent now?” She pauses when she immediately remembers the firm pressure of Lena’s lips, and quickly adds, “It doesn’t involve kissing.”

“Fair enough,” Lena says, enough amusement coloring her tone that Kara briefly flushes all over again.

“Can you trust me to get you home tonight?” Kara doesn’t wait for an answer before she goes on: “I know you don’t know me. But you know Alex. And I swear on my life, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for Alex, and by extension that means there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Lena nods along with every word slowly. “You take your job very seriously.”

“I do,” Kara says firmly. (And, hopefully, comfortingly).

“Then I trust you, Kara Danvers,” Lena says. “If that’s even your real name.”

And for a brief moment, Kara’s not a spy fighting a clock on a mission she knows nothing about; she is, instead, a normal person who is capable of seeing the humor of her almost-sister-in-law who definitely knows more than she has clearance for.

“It is,” Kara says—even deigns to smile before she can quell it. “By choice.”

“That sounds like there’s a story somewhere.”

“I’ll tell you all about it sometime,” Kara promises. “Maybe even tonight, if in exchange you tell me your real name.”

“Unfortunately, Lena Luthor is my real name,” Lena says. “Alex said it was fine to tell her friends, so, this party was her idea. She even came up with the marriage idea so when my last name is changed, no one will care.”

The cogs finally start turning in Kara’s head far slower than she cares to admit. “Hold on. So you and Alex aren’t actually engaged?”

Again, Lena stares at Kara like she’s grown two heads in the last thirty seconds. “No. You seriously didn’t know? I thought you were just being weird, Alex says you get really into your method-acting stuff.”

“No.” Strangely, the first thing Kara feels is relief; she doesn’t have to actually tell her sister that she kissed her future wife. The second thing is, quite reasonably, alarm. “Okay I don’t know what the hell is going on with your case, but you mentioned someone who used to work for your brother, right? How bad is the threat?”

Lena hesitates. “It’s…kind of a long story.”

“So really bad,” Kara fills in the blanks. “Crap. We need to go.” She quickly shrugs off her jacket and presses it into Lena’s hands. “Put this on. There are no cameras in this area, but we’re going to hit some when we get to the parking lot.” 

“Is everything okay?” Lena asks, though she hurriedly does as Kara says.

“I’m sure it is,” Kara tries to assure her. “But it’s just a precaution until we can reunite you with Alex and confirm.”

Lena doesn’t seem like she believes Kara entirely—or at least, the way her expression remains a fraction confused definitely indicates as much. But at the very least, she does not argue, though she does make a point to ask, “Where is Alex?”

“She just got tied up at work.” Kara leads the way to the parking lot, careful to hover at Lena’s side on the off chance any threat might  materialize. “I don’t know where your current safe house is or if it’s been compromised, so I’m going to take you somewhere else. Is that okay?”

“Not like I have any choice,” Lena says wearily. “So am I not allowed to know when everything’s gone to shit? Or will everyone just keep telling me it’s okay when it’s not?”

Kara swings open the passenger side of James’s car (he’ll forgive her for this later) and waits for Lena to sit down. Lena doesn’t. “It’s—complicated,” she says.

“How so?” Lena crosses her arms and still does not move. Kara is still holding onto the car door, inadvertently standing too close; she feels strangely helpless when Lena looks right at her with eyes dark and determined.

“Full disclosure,” Kara reluctantly admits, “I…have no clue what’s going on with your case. I’ve been in the dark and Alex can't exactly  share the details through a text, so, the truth is I have no idea if everything has gone to shit. I know that is the very last thing you want to hear since I’m supposed to be protecting you, but—”

“Actually,” Lena says, and her look has softened, “that makes me trust you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I appreciate that you will tell me upfront you don't know,” Lena says. She sways slightly closer, enough that Kara stiffens, but it's only to duck into the car after all.

Kara shuts the door only after a very brief pause. This should not be as hard as it feels. For a week she has been associating the idea of Lena Luthor as her sister’s fiancée and it’s tough to wrap her head around the fact that the opposite is true.

(And it has absolutely nothing to do with how attractive Lena is. Or that kiss. For the record.)

The dashboard of James’s car reads 7:19 PM; his radio is playing a news station; the gas tank is half full. Kara makes note of everything and decides she will drive as far as she possibly can before it hits empty.

Lena is quiet, at first. And while there is nothing special about the bumper-to-bumper traffic or the hazy street lights or the clouded night sky, Lena keeps her gaze trained outwards, head resting against the tinted window.

But then, “My brother killed twenty people.”

Kara grips onto the wheel and tries not to outwardly react. She has, of course, always had a terrible poker face. “Oh.”

“It gets worse,” Lena says uneasily. “I designed the technology he used to kill them.”

There is no possible response Kara can imagine which might be appropriate. In the end she settles for: “That actually doesn’t seem like a long story after all.”

“I assumed Alex would have told you that, at least.” Lena begins to drum a pattern with her fingertips against the center console. “Do you think the worst of me now?”

“I guess that depends,” Kara says slowly, “on whether you designed that technology for the purpose of killing people.”

Lena gives a curt, kind of disbelieving half-laugh, half-scoff. “They were nanobots,” she says. “I was trying to use them to cure cancer. But my brother…well, he didn’t see half the potential I did.”

Kara casts a quick glance at Lena, finds her staring straight ahead with a stony expression on her face. “Lena,” she says gently, “that doesn’t sound like it was at all your fault.”

“Everyone tells me that.” More rhythmic drumming, each beat more hesitant than the last. “I don’t know when I’ll start to believe it.”

When she was a kid, Kara had been thrown into the foster system with little more than heartache and a wish to find the cousin she never would. She had never felt so helpless—so unsure—and something about Lena’s guilt right now brings her right back to that moment. Like she’s just a little kid, knees pulled up to her chest, waiting for a sign that would never come.

“It’ll be hard,” Kara says softly. It has begun to drizzle rain, and she mindlessly sets the wipers, watching them flick back and forth as they wait for the light to turn green. “But it will get easier. I promise.” 

“Odd thing to promise,” Lena notes, but Kara can feel her gaze burning against the side of her head, and Lena sounds…lighter, somehow. “Can I change the station?”

“Sure.” James will hate it, but Kara doesn’t mind. Lena chooses a jazz station that frequently breaks with static, and it’s by far the most peaceful hour-long drive Kara has had in a while. 

They pull up to the safe house when the clock reads 8:34 PM and the rain has petered out; the air feels damp and thick with residual humidity, but otherwise, the tranquility of the quiet gives Kara a good feeling. Lena has fallen asleep in the passenger’s side, and Kara softly nudges her awake.

“Here,” Kara says, handing her James’s emergency bag once they make their way up the house steps. “This should have a change of clothes. They’ll be too big, but better than your dress at least…if you’re hungry there will be granola bars in the pantry. We can’t risk ordering anything else right now, unfortunately.” She digs into her pocket for the batch of safe house keys she has on all times and locates the right one, pressing it surely into Lena’s hand. “Until we know for sure if I’ll be briefed on your case or not, just…assume you’re going to be moved tomorrow. Also, you never saw me. Like, officially.”

Lena wipes at her eyes with her palm, absentmindedly smearing her mascara. “You’re going to leave me here?” she says, hugging James’s bag to her chest.

“No, of course not. I’m going to be sitting in the car, out here,” Kara says. “I just mean like in general, you know, if I don’t end up getting briefed on your case it would be all kinds of not-allowed to be talking to you. So if anyone asks…”

“Ah,” Lena says, “right. I’ll just make up a cover story for my cover story.”

“Yeah, you know, we need to protect the bureaucracies and all that,” Kara says. “If I'm even using that word the right way.”

“And you're supposed to be a journalist?” Lena smiles ever-so-slightly. “Good thing you're decent at your day job.”

“Only decent?” Kara feels her own mouth twitch with the promise of her own smile. 

“I'd give you five stars on Yelp,” Lena says confidently, and Kara laughs, unable to stop herself from full-on grinning.

“Well if you need anything,” Kara says, and gestures over her shoulder to the car. “You know where I'll be.”

“Thank you.” Lena places a hand over Kara’s wrist, and just squeezes there briefly, her hand slightly cold but her touch overwhelmingly gentle. “Um. Would it be—would it be allowed to ask if you can stay with me inside, instead? I don't really want to be…alone.”

“That would make plausible deniability much harder to fake,” Kara tries to protest, but Lena is biting her lip and looking at Kara underneath mascara-smudged lashes and really, there is no other option but to cave. “…but I guess I could break a rule or two. Or twenty-seven.”

Lena smiles fully this time with obvious relief. “And here I thought I'd have to work harder to corrupt you.”

Kara pushes her glasses up her nose and says, “I’m a little concerned you were planning to corrupt me, but I mean. It’s one night.” She follows Lena inside when she opens the door, surveys the untouched room with a quick, satisfied glance. “Just as long as you don’t get me into trouble.”

“I’ll try my best not to,” Lena says, making a beeline for the couch to inspect James’s emergency bag; she pulls out an oversized T-shirt with an exhausted sigh. “Can you unzip me?” Already she’s pulling her hair off her shoulders, exposing the graceful slope of her neck, and Kara almost forgets to lock the door behind her.

“Y-yeah,” she stammers out, once again fiddling with the glasses that she doesn’t need, and she knows it right then and there: Lena Luthor will undoubtedly get her in trouble. And judging by the way Lena gazes so shyly at Kara over her shoulder, she knows it.

(But, well. In the grand scheme of things, Kara figures a little trouble never hurt anyone).

#vaguest storyline but i was getting TOO invested in the plot for a oneshot omg i had to stop myself #i just have a lot of feelings about this AU okay #supercorp #supergirl #book-nerd1216 #i need a fic tag #occasionally i finish prompts <3 yknow

[yet-another-haven-of-dollya]

Please, how do I make money fast in dol?? I've always played with cheats on cuz I'm a pussy. I've gotten better from my past no cheats on playthroughs, but still, I still would like to know from the pro, my favorite dol account. Please, tell us your ways🛐

Huh... And here I thought money is the last thing you need to worry about when you've been playing long enough on one save. Alright, I doubt anything I'm gonna say is new, but since you asked so nicely, I'll go into details with my 4 PCs and highlight their most rewarded methods.

In general, early game is always tricky since your stats are low. High Math grade and higher certain stats make things easier.

1. Lya

- She used to be a massage staff at the Spa. High enough beauty (4/6 if I remember right) or hand skill is required to work there, and high dance skill make it fairly safe. Higher promiscuity and skuldugery open chances for lewder things and more money.

- Antique hunting. At the lake. High swimming skill recommended. And down the sewer too. I only intended to grind her skuldugery, but then she started to get attached to Winter so she go hunt antique for him ever since. Then the old church yard too. Still the Ivory necklace is a no.

- Dancing jobs. Charlie's Danube street job and at the brothel. Not the strip club but the brothel. Higher skuldugery can only be grinded while encountering so yeah, she work at the brothel for a pretty long time and install the vending machine there too.

- Be a model at Niki's studio.

- Working at Sirris' adult toy shop and selling flowers at the market sometime.

- Alex farm. Invested in the Farm, make things automatic and safe, then brought things to the Harvest street for sale. It's pretty okay and leisurely too.

- The doting Hawk spouse. Yes. Sometimes she goes to the tower to relax, getting away from the dirty town. When you're with the Hawk you just have to sleep, bath, sing all day, maybe walk around the moor a bit, be pretty and wait for the goodest bord to bring things back to you and sell them to Landry later.

2. Lyah

- Being Avery escort. Yeah help very much in the early game. He still keep her company sometime now.

- Steal things from people. He make the most out of his Devil tf to get into encounter, steal, then tell people to stop. Work like a champ. His skuldugery went up fastest out of all 4 PCs.

- Bartender at Strip Club. He works there for fun and to look out for Darryl, but sometimes encounter happen. So it still counts. Vending machine still installed at the Brothel.

- Chef. The ultimate way to make money. Even without Cow tf he still make a LOT out of it, being devoid of purity and lactating mean he has lots of bodily fluids to spare. Just a few hours of "work" and remember to save some for his wife, and the money is insane.

3. Kariya

- Doing odd jobs in the street. Usually to get into encounters.

- Working at the Agency.

- Seducing someone randomly at the Pub, the Farm, at nights,... You name it.

- Get up early and pick the locks of every house or building before they open for the day.

- Playing cards with Wren. Every-single-day. They often just continue untill the lewd part happen. That's their fav part anw. And running around butt-naked with Wren too.

- Dancing and Private shows at the Brothel. Mostly for fun but their money primarily comes from these activities. Briar's most fav worker for sure.

4. "Nyan"

- Working at the Dog Pound and Sam's Cafe (waiter only)

- Doing odd jobs in the street for Housekeeping skill, sometime pick locks and steal from Danube street.

- Temple monthly allowance. Even at max Grace it's not much, but still better than nothing.

- Charlie's dancing job. Charlie offered the safe job, but Nyan often asked for the more dangerous one. Jordan asked him to investigate anyway.

- Antique hunting in the lake, etc... Nyan is still in the build, so he mostly stick with his older siblings safer choices.

Okay, there, I think that's basically things I can recall for now. Also since all my PCs are Robin protectors, they mainly stick to safer paths and don't go away from the Orphanage for too long unless they can't help it. So huge chance there are many more ways to make bigger bucks that I'm not aware of yet. Still, hope this helps!

#dollya ask #dol pc #I'll add more if I remember them now pls excuse me I'll be back with my work

[magicalrocketships]

Random fic ask i just made up: What is the nearest book to you right now, or what is the last movie you watched, and what would a fic based on that book/movie look like?

Any ship you want, and drawing however heavily or lightly on the plot of the book/movie as you want 😊

What a marvellous random fic ask you just made up. I'm just going to press pause on what I was actually going to talk about in this post and just circle around to the thing I've actually just been watching, which is ANOTHER detective show where the serious and methodical detective is derailed by being partnered (officially or unofficially) by a extrovert sometime-confidence-trickster who trades in being liked.

All I'm saying is (obvs acab) so let's throw this one BACK IN TIME, say the 1950s, and make Max a PRIVATE DETECTIVE somewhere around Monaco and have Daniel fall into his path as a bit of a playboy with a series of richer friends and girlfriends who kind of pay his way, and nobody really minds that Daniel can't afford to be in their set, because everyone loves him. Daniel's a bit bored, but he's got to keep in with the crowd who pay his way, and then there is a MYSTERIOUS DEATH at a club, and MAX shows up to investigate on behalf of some rich relative of the dead guy, and the whole time he's trying to investigate, there's this handsome vaguely hungover guy who keeps hanging around and asking questions and being annoying and getting in his way, but who actually gets doors open for Max because Max can't be bothered playing nice and he doesn't know the right people.

Daniel, fascinated by this single-minded, sometimes rude Dutch guy who always wears a variation of the exact same off-the-peg suit, and who is sharply focused on getting to the bottom of the death at the club, and Daniel finds himself blowing off his friends and the current divorcee paying his way in order to track possible leads through the back streets, and breaking into a YACHT and spending three hours cramped in a tiny room trying to listen to an illegal card game through the wall, and the whole time Max is pressed up against him, his breath warm against Daniel's throat, and Daniel's hand just settles on the curve of Max's ass, and Max trembles a little beneath his touch but they have to focus on the MYSTERIOUS DEATH and not on the way Daniel's lifelong need to be close to men is suddenly thrown into sharp focus.

And maybe it turns out that it's someone in Daniel's set, and Daniel's faced with the choice between telling the truth to Max or lying and saving his friend, and he chooses his Max and his rich friends exile him from their group. So it's just Daniel, trailing after Max, and Max takes him to this boat moored in a harbour down the coast, and it's small and familiar and private, and it's Max's, and it's where he goes when he's not working a case. And he takes the boat out to sea and makes a very boring lunch of soup and bread, and Daniel's sunbathing in small shorts, and they eat lunch and then Max, impulsively, leans over and presses his mouth to Daniel's. Daniel beams like the sun, and kisses him back.

Also, each subsequent mystery is just focused on someone else on the grid, like the mysterious death of Fernando's extremely rich wife, (Lance in the wings with his alibi and a lot more money than Fernando's wife) or George being framed for the death of the controlling partner in his law firm, eventually exonerated by photographer Alex, or the one with the BEES and the mysterious German guy who owns them. Saving unlucky Charles from always being in the wrong place in the wrong time, except this time he's discovering the body by tripping over it and finding the murder weapon stashed in his apartment. OH GOD maybe Charles is the Prince of Monaco. Anyway, whatever. And each mystery ends with Max and Daniel out on their boat, Daniel in a series of tinier and tinier shorts, Max with his gin and tonic and Daniel with a ridiculous cocktail, Max flushed with the sun and Daniel not regretting any of his choices in leaving his old life behind to solve mysteries with Max.

Please note that at no point in this ask did I refer to the rather lengthy Sweet Home Alabama AU plot I forced Sarah to listen to last week, which got out of hand and got too angsty and where I left it, Daniel was in hospital for the second time and Max was following him half way across the world and nobody was even mentioning divorce, so that went well. Two thumbs up to that.

#fic i wish i was writing #my fic #monaco private detectives reporting for duty

[chrollohearttags]

that eren detective fanart still got my head spinning…because one, I’m a true crime junkie and two:

imagine the reader, the pretty private investigator that has her own agency and is always interfering in his cases. Showing up to his crime scenes and snooping around because your clients hired you, knowing the police probably wouldn’t care as much. Detective Eren always gets so frustrated because he’s the best at his job..top academy graduate and the toughest on the force but somehow, you manage to outdo him. A complete contrast to his crass personality. Gathering clues he overlooked or getting leads that his jurisdiction won’t allow him to look into. Because he’s so cute, you always joke and flirt with him, saying things like “I’ll let you have this one for a little kiss.” Knowing damn well you play too much! Always wearing unprofessional attire and using unorthodox methods, but private investigator (y/n) comes through when he needs you most. As much as he hates to admit it, you make his job much easier sometimes..as well as a lot more fun. And of course, he has his own way of thanking you; by putting you atop your own desk, parting your legs as he stands between them and kisses on your neck after a long day for both of you.

“You really are a pain in my ass but I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

#black fem reader #aot x black reader #black reader #black fanfiction #eren x black reader #eren yeager #eren headcanons #eren imagines #eren x black fem!reader #shingeki no kyoujin eren #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x black reader #eren x black y/n #eren x y/n #aot eren #eren x reader #eren aot #eren jaeger x black fem reader #police au #him in a suit got me foaming at the mouth #I just know he’d be such an asshole but he’d be so fine too #resisting the urge to write this #like I ain’t got enough going on this blog #eren jaeger imagines #attack on titan eren

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Hopeless: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Summary: You and your lawyer try to fight your unlawful arrest but it's not looking good. The entire team feels your loss and tries to concentrate on the case at hand. None of them can predict the outcome.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

The team is forced back to the BAU but Hotch isn't worried about it. As soon as he steps foot into the bullpen, Penelope comes rushing down the stairs to greet them.

"I've logged into police dispatch for the area you've isolated. If anything's reported, we'll know when they know," Penelope says.

"Wait, are we staying on the case?" Emily asks.

"We all know that these unsubs are gonna react to last night's riot. Andrews is a good cop. He's just too emotional right now. If we don't stay on, with or without his permission, he and all the rest of us will regret it."

This pisses Emily and Derek off. Emily holds herself back from saying anything but decides it's better if she does.

"Let me try to understand here. You're going to ignore their request but you're not even going to help Y/N?" Hotch sighs because he knew this was coming. "If you should be ignoring anyone, it should be the officers assigned to Y/N's case."

"She's right, Hotch. Why are you pretending like what happened to Y/N didn't happen?"

Spencer locks eyes with Hotch, and he can see how much Spencer is hurting.

"Strauss called me and threatened my job and anyone's job who decided to work on the case. I am doing everything I can privately to help Y/N, but if everyone gets fired, then no one can help her. Trust me, I'd love to go down to that prison and fight everyone to get her back. I hate it, but she is going to have to wait."

Hotch walks away after that and Rossi addresses the team.

"He has a point. You all know Y/N would have said to work the active case."

"Yeah, I know," Derek sighs.

Spencer has tears in his eyes because he knows if they could talk to you, you'd tell them to help other people before you. When are you going to let someone help you first? When are you going to put yourself before everyone else? The team walks to the briefing room to continue working on the case since they have all the details and files about it.

"I talked to the beat cops. They're getting the word out to local businesses to keep an eye out for anyone who seems agitated by the news of last night's riot," JJ informs.

"By now, Andrews has to know that none of those kids are the unsubs."

"Then he's bound to beef up police presence in the Southeast. We should be there, too. The faster we can react, the more we can help," Hotch says.

"Do you think the unsubs know about the riot?"

"It's on the front page. I don't know how they can't."

"What if the profile is right?"

"Their reaction's gonna be quick and it's gonna be brutal. Basically, it's like knowing that lightning is gonna strike but not being able to pinpoint where."

Much like Hotch predicted, there is another murder because of what was featured in the news. Hotch sends over his team to investigate whether Andrews wants it or not.

"What are you doing here?" Andrews asks.

"Detective, we can argue about this later. Right now, you have a crime scene and we're here to help."

Andrews must realize he is in over his head because he nods once and allows them to enter the bar of the newest crime scene. There is someone who is nailed to the bar counter and someone else who is beaten on the ground.

"They nailed the bartender's hands to the bar first. The other bastard got off easier. They just plain beat him."

"I'm getting real sick of us being right and it just not mattering," Derek mutters.

"This is weird. The unsubs are extremely physical. They beat their victims mercilessly with blunt objects. Why aren't these nails pounded in?"

"They probably used a nail gun. With all the gentrification and turnover in housing In the neighborhood, what's a common sight these days?"

"Builders, contractors, and construction workers."

"Wait a minute, killing four people in that first home invasion never made sense to me. Unsubs build to something like that. What if this wasn't their first murder? The first two rounds of vandalism were typical, but that last case right before the home invasion, was a random construction site. A single-family townhouse. Prentiss, you flagged it yourself."

"Yeah." She takes out her phone to call Penelope. "Hey, Garcia. I need the address of that townhouse that was vandalized."

Only Emily and Derek go to the townhouse that is now owned by a nice couple who are looking to start a family. This isn't going to be an easy talk to have with them, and Derek hopes they will be cooperative with them. When the nice couple answers the door, Derek quickly gives them a rundown of their presence.

"I don't understand how we can help."

"Sir, we believe that whoever vandalized your house is responsible for the murders in the area."

"Oh, I know. We've read the papers, but that's not something we're gonna think about right now."

"We also think it's possible that your home was vandalized for a reason."

"What do you mean?" the man's wife asks.

"May we come inside?"

"Sure."

"Thank you."

"We believe there may have been another murder before the first one the police became aware of," Emily explains as the front door closes.

"You think there might be a body hidden here on our property?"

The woman's hand goes to her stomach as a way to protect her unborn baby.

"It's possible. At the very least, the men we're looking for may have worked here. Were there any issues with workers during construction?"

"No, nothing."

"Did anyone appear overly confrontational? I understand people come and go during construction, but was there anyone at all that you may have noticed suddenly wasn't around?"

"Oh, God. After the vandalism, we called this contractor to oversee the repairs. He never called us back. They smashed every room except for the nursery. They didn't touch that one."

"May we see it?"

The young couple escorts Derek and Emily to the back room where the nursery is. The walls are blue and pink with storks painted on, fairy lights above the crib, and just a beautiful room for a newborn baby. There is a short wall protruding from the main wall that doesn't look like it belonged in the original design. Derek touches the wall and knocks twice to confirm that it's hollow.

"This wall is structural," Derek says to Emily before turning to the couple. "I wouldn't ask you this unless I felt it was incredibly important. I need to open up this wall."

"No," the woman shakes her head.

"We can't live here not know," her husband says.

"Ma'am, I promise you, even if I have to do every bit of the work myself, this wall will be repaired. It'll go right back to being exactly what you want. Please?"

"Okay," she nods.

Emily calls in a crew to open the wall, and what they find inside is shocking to the young couple. There is a dead body wrapped in plastic wrap stuffed into the wall. Emily takes out her phone to call someone.

"This is Agent Emily Prentiss with the FBI. I need a CSI unit right away.

"I can't be here," the woman shudders.

"Let's move over here." Derek moves the couple away from the wall. "Is there someplace the two of you can stay?"

"Yes, we have friends I can call."

"After you give the police a statement, they can take you to your friend's house."

"Thank you."

As soon as the police and the CSI unit arrive, the young couple is taken downstairs for a statement.

"Do you think they'll be okay?" Derek asks Emily.

"I don't know. I mean, you redo your dream home, about to start a new chapter of your life, and then this? How did you know?"

"The other crime scenes were brutal but it had control. They took their time. That type of MO had to start before the home invasions. This entire place was destroyed except this room. Why?"

"Because they took the time to rebuild the wall once they buried the contractor."

"Exactly. If they smashed this place up, he could have been discovered."

"Still. A body inside the wall?"

"It's like a builder's tradition. You leave a little something behind to send a message to the people who may do work down the road. Like the front page of a newspaper or a photo of the construction crew. It's like a time capsule."

"Okay, so what would you need to rebuild this wall? Drywall, brickwork, and electrical?"

"I'll call Garcia." He pulls out his phone and calls her. "Hey, girl."

"Hey, what do you need?"

"Pull up the address of the townhouse that was vandalized. Give me work permits for the contractor."

"That would be James Morris. Is he our unsub?"

"No, actually, I'm afraid he's our first victim. Does it list Morris' subcontractors?"

"Yes, it does."

"Okay, I need all the names and addresses of whoever was hired to do the electrical, brickwork, and drywall."

"That would be three names, one address. 5058 B Street near Anacostia. I'm sending you it now."

"Thanks, babe." Derek hangs up. "We were right. They're a pack."

Emily informs Hotch who meets up with Derek and Emily at the unsubs' house. They have to be prepared for everything, so they bring in all the big guns. These guys love violence, so they're not going to go down easy. Hotch and Derek are the first ones in the house, but there is only one of them inside. He gets up to flee but Hotch grabs him so he can't go anywhere. The rest of the team filters through the house but the other two unsubs are not there.

"Where are the other two?" Hotch asks.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Aaron." 

Hotch turns to Rossi who shows him what's playing on the TV. It's footage of the murders they've done. 

"You like that, sir? I got more," the man smirks.

"Where are the others?"

"Go to Hell."

There is a car out front that Emily can use to track whoever owns it. She has Penelope on the line to give her the license plate number.

"Garcia, I need vehicle information on all the residents. D.C. plate 7-4-Delta-Alpha-4. I also need to know if they're registered on any jobs right now."

Detective Andrews also has his men putting an APB out on whoever owns the vehicle and gets a hit.

"I got a visual on the station wagon just south of 8th, heading toward Half Street in Southeast."

"That's right next to their current work site."

"Deploy tactical units to 922 Half Street in Southeast," Andrews orders.

"We got them!" Emily calls to her team inside the house.

"Morgan, forget him. He's nothing. Let's go."

The other two unsubs are the unfinished housing project they are contracted to work on, and they know the second they hear sirens that they aren't getting out of this. They think they're bigger than what they are and started something they knew they couldn't finish. It ended with both of them dead, their bodies riddled with bullets from the police.

Case closed but not for you.

After you were finished with the long interrogation, they moved you to the other side of the prison where you were given your cell number. You're sharing this cell with three other women with your lawyer's words ringing in your head.

They're denying you bail. You will be put in jail awaiting your trial.

You won't even get to see Spencer but maybe this is for the best. Why give him hope only for that to be taken away when you're convicted of these crimes? You have faith in Steve but what can he do when all the evidence points to you? The only thing that can save you is if the person who actually did it gets caught and admits it.

Every cell you pass by is enough to send you into a fit of tears. The trauma and fear of each woman weigh heavily on your shoulders as if their trauma is your own. You stop outside of your cell and wait for the door to open. The three women inside look at their new roommate. The woman occupying the bottom left bunk doesn't look friendly at all. She looks like she could kill you if you look at her wrong. Maybe you won't engage in conversation with her. The woman on the top left bunk is quiet with her head down so she isn't looking at you. You feel waves of anger roll off her but it's controlled anger. She might not have good intentions, so you'll make sure to be extra nice to her. The woman on the bottom right bunk is the friendliest of the bunch. Well, you feel like she is. She's really sad and shy but maybe you can help her out of her shell. If you had to choose one to be friends with, it'd be her.

Well, this is your life now. May as well make lemonade with what you got.

Frank walks into his home where Clarissa is waiting for him. She jumps into his arms and kisses his face with a huge smile.

"I've missed you," she grins.

"Okay, get off me."

She gets off him and clears her throat, smiling to pretend like that didn't happen. Rob comes walking out of the kitchen with a bloodstain on his shirt. Frank sighs in frustration and points to the mark.

"Really? You couldn't have kept it clean?"

"Don't give me that shit. Be thankful I'm even here at all. Some kids you got. Obedient as hell."

"Isn't that what we want?"

"You know I like the backtalkers," Rob smirks. "I left the stuff in your room. I gotta go. Itchy hands."

Frank rolls his eyes as his friend leaves. He turns to his wife who smiles innocently. Innocent. She's far from it. She's in this just as deep as Frank is.

"Where are the kids?"

"Chores."

Frank hums as he passes by his wife to get to their bedroom. On the bed is a black duffel bag with the stuff he asked Rob to get him. Frank hasn't been home nearly ten minutes and he's already itching to get out again. He yanks off his tie and throws it on the bed before ripping open the bag. Inside are all kinds of weapons from small guns to big guns and knives. Frank grabs one of the biggest guns inside the bag and takes out the magazine to check the bullets. He can't remember the name of the gun but Rob says it's one of his bests.

"What are you going to do with those? I promise the kids behaved while you were gone."

"I don't care about the damn kids right now, Clarissa."

"How did it go with Y/N?"

"I made sure that bitch stays in jail. I didn't kill those seven men for her to walk. Don't worry. She's taken care of."

"But she's my--"

"I don't care what she is to you!" Frank yells, and Clarissa flinches at his tone. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm just having a hard time."

"I know. It's okay."

"With Y/N out of the picture, I can focus all my attention on her bitch boyfriend, Spencer. I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch for taking her away from me," Frank says and cocks his gun.

"These violent delights have violent ends." - William Shakespeare

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #criminal minds season 5

[zerbu]

The Sims 4 Investigations Mod Pack Announcement

Become a private investigator with The Sims 4 Investigations Mod Pack! Something bad happened, but we don’t know who did it, so it’s up to you to find out. Get on the suspects’ good side and convince them to give you revealing information, or take the mean route and demand it. Find clues by rummaging through the trash, or hack for information on the computer.

Investigations is a brand new Mod Pack for The Sims 4, currently in development. It started off as a Sims 4 version of the Private Investigator career from The Sims 3, but ended up turning into a kind of mini game.

The mod adds a new “Investigations” app to the phone. Selecting “Search for Cases” opens a dialog where you can select from a list of investigations that are available. Investigations work like Odd Jobs. They’re not tied to a specific career, so it’s possible for a Sim to be an investigator and have a normal career at the same time. As you solve cases, your star rating will increase, which will unlock harder cases that offer more money.

Most cases involve figuring out which of a selection of Sim committed a bad deed. When you start a case, the game chooses 2-8 (depending on the difficulty of the case) random suspects. One of them is the “culprit”, the rest are decoys. It’s up to you to figure out which one is the culprit. The game is more likely to choose Sims whose traits, skills and home world match the case description.

There are also other cases, such as rabbithole cases (works the same as rabbithole odd jobs) and stakeouts (where you socialize with other Sims to get information on them).

Using the phone, you can invite suspects over to the active lot, or travel to their home lot (only available for Sims who have lots).

There are various ways to find clues about a Sim, but the main one is socializing with the suspect to get information from them. That’s right, you can now make money from socializing with other Sims, you no longer have to choose between the two!

In addition to socializing, there are other ways to find clues.

As of writing this post, the currently available methods are:

Becoming friends with the suspect and convincing them to give case information

Tricking a friend* into giving case information (*I also plan to make this available for disliked Sims)

Seducing a romantic interest for information

Asking a friend in the suspect’s active household for information

Demanding case information from a disliked Sim

Rummaging through the trash can on a suspect’s home lot

Researching suspects on the computer

Hacking for information on a computer with high Programming skill

Using the chemical analyzer from Get to Work to analyze clues found from rummaging

Listening to Sims using the Listening Device from StrangerVille

All of these methods have cooldowns. The cooldowns haven’t been fully decided yet, but social methods will have lower cooldowns than non-social methods.

As your Sim finds clues, their “Confidence” that the other Sim is the culprit increases.

When performing an interaction, there is a random chance it will point to the suspect being the culprit, which will increase confidence. Clues aren’t always correct! There is a chance of getting false confidence on a decoy, or failing to get confidence on the culprit. That being said, the chance of the clue increasing confidence is higher if the suspect actually is the culprit. If you notice a high success rate with a certain suspect, you may have found the culprit. If you notice a low success rate, it’s likely they’re not the culprit.

You can check the confidence rating of an existing suspect by selecting “View Suspect Log” on the phone or by clicking on the Sim. The suspect log also shows how many clues point to the suspect being the culprit and how many don’t.

Once your Sim reaches 100% confidence with the culprit, the “Report Suspect” interaction on the phone becomes available. This will complete the case. It is impossible to reach 100% confidence with a decoy. If a clue on a decoy would result in 100% confidence, it will revert to not increasing confidence.

Although I don’t have an exact release date planned, I hope you all enjoy the mod when it releases!

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #the sims #s4cc

[fatehbaz]

The rise of the European empires [...] required new forms of social organization, not least the exploitation of millions of people whose labor powered the growth of European expansion [...]. These workers suffered various forms of coercion ranging from outright slavery through to indentured or convict labor, as well as military conscription, land theft, and poverty. [...] [W]ide-ranging case studies [examining the period from 1600 to 1850] [...] show the variety of working conditions and environments found in the early modern period and the many ways workers found to subvert and escape from them. [...] A web of regulation and laws were constructed to control these workers [...]. This system of control was continually contested by the workers themselves [...]

---

Timothy Coates [...] focuses on three locations in the Portuguese empire and the workers who fled from them. The first was the sugar plantations of São Tomé in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The slaves who ran away to form free communities in the interior of the island were an important reason why sugar production eventually shifted to Brazil. Secondly, Coates describes working conditions in the trading posts around the Indian Ocean and the communities of runaways which formed in the Bay of Bengal. The final section focuses on convicts and sinners in Portugal itself, where many managed to escape from forced labor in salt mines.

Johan Heinsen examines convict labor in the Danish colony of Saint Thomas in the Virgin Islands. Denmark awarded the Danish West Indies and Guinea Company the right to transport prisoners to the colony in 1672. The chapter illustrates the social dynamics of the short-lived colony by recounting the story of two convicts who hatched the escape plan, recruited others to the group, including two soldiers, and planned to steal a boat and escape from the island. The plan was discovered and the two convicts sentenced to death. One was forced to execute the other in order to save his own life. The two soldiers involved were also punished but managed to talk their way out of the fate of the convicts. Detailed court records are used to show both the collective nature of the plot and the methods the authorities used to divide and defeat the detainees.

---

James F. Dator reveals how workers in seventeenth-century St. Kitts Island took advantage of conflict between France and Britain to advance their own interests and plan collective escapes. The two rival powers had divided the island between them, but workers, indigenous people, and slaves cooperated across the borders, developing their own knowledge of geography, boundaries, and imperial rivalries [...].

Nicole Ulrich writes about the distinct traditions of mass desertions that evolved in the Dutch East India Company colony in South Africa. Court records reveal that soldiers, sailors, slaves, convicts, and servants all took part in individual and collective desertion attempts. [...] Mattias von Rossum also writes about the Dutch East India Company [...]. He [...] provides an overview of labor practices of the company [...] and the methods the company used to control and punish workers [...].

---

In the early nineteenth century, a total of 73,000 British convicts were sentenced to be transported to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania). There, the majority were rented out as laborers to private employers, and all were subjected to surveillance and detailed record keeping. These records allow Hamish Maxwell-Stewart and Michael Quinlan to provide a detailed statistical analysis of desertion rates in different parts of the colonial economy [...].

When Britain abolished the international slave trade, new forms of indentured labor were created in order to provide British capitalism with the labor it required. Anita Rupprecht investigates the very specific culture of resistance that developed on the island of Tortola in the British Virgin Islands between 1808 and 1828. More than 1,300 Africans were rescued from slavery and sent to Tortola, where officials had to decide how to deal with them. Many were put to work in various forms of indentured labor on the island, and this led to resistance and rebellion. Rupprecht uncovers details about these protests from the documents of a royal commission that investigated [...].

---

All text above by: Mark Dunick. "Review of Rediker, Marcus; Chakraborty, Titas; Rossum, Matthias van, eds. A Global History of Runaways: Workers, Mobility, and Capitalism 1600-1850". H-Socialisms, H-Net Reviews. April 2024. Published at: h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=58852 [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

#abolition #carceral #pedagogies #ecologies #imperial #colonial #critical geographies #fugitivity #tidalectics #archipelagic thinking #indigenous

[hiraya-rawr]

Loyalties 03

( Diluc x Fatui Reader ) Mini Series

synopsis !! trapped to be interrogated for distributing delusions, you find yourself torn between loyalty to the Fatui and love for Diluc.

note !! this was a rather difficult chapter to write during my personal break maybe because I couldn't find myself properly setting the mood; anywaay here we go!

contains !! gn reader, implied torture, dark themes, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, manipulation

ch.01 || ch.02 || ch.03 || ch.04

— Favonius Cathedral, City of Mondstadt

"Normally, I wouldn't question your methods, but this was quite the save, wasn't it, sir Kaeya?"

Sweet and light sounding, Lisa greets the Cavalry Captain the minute he stepped out of the looming Cathedral doors, with one manicured hand stretched out to him. "I was just about ready to doubt you when the seizures started. Just how did you find out that the children would be fine?"

Kaeya smiles back, offering his arm out for her to hold as they walk down the Cathedral steps.

Of course he's caught her attention. The prodigy and most distinguished graduate of Sumeru Academia was unable to find a cure; yet, a mere Cavalry Captain ordered a risky 'hypothesis' that not only saved lives, but also opened new doors to investigating Delusions and their side effects

He could answer the question but that would warrant too much of an explanation— with information he had no right to divulge (as of now, he promises, because Kaeya Alberich does not hold back on betrayal).

"I'm surprised to see you out and about, Miss Lisa. Do you have business in the Cathedral?"

He's deflecting the question. Lisa is completely aware of it, yet she continues to smile. Alright then, there are more important matters for now, she thinks.

"As a matter of fact, I was searching for my sweet, little Razor. I thought he would be here with that boy. . . Bennett, was it?"

"Perhaps you're better off visiting the Adventures' Guild for them." Kaeya suggests.

"I thought so as well, but I've heard of Bennett's um– apparent propensity for misfortune. I was worried that," Her voice softens, "With the Fatui offering out Delusions to children, the two might have stumbled into some trouble."

Kaeya nods as Lisa releases her hold on his arm. The librarian had only been worried. "I see. . . Unfortunately, I haven't a clue as to where Bennett or Razor could be. Outrider Amber might know."

"I suppose I'll check with her. . . Are you heading to the Headquarters as well, sir Kaeya?"

He shakes his head, "No, I'm off duty as of now so I figured I'll have a drink or two in Angel's Share."

That's an excuse. He needs to check if the Darknight Hero successfully ended the delusion trade (definitely not to check on his brother's mental state, right?).

Lisa lights up, "Ah! If you meet (Name) there, would you mind asking them about Razor as well? We often have tea together, they might have an idea where he is– or perhaps they've been with Razor all along. That boy does so admire them."

Had it not been for Kaeya's proficiency in keeping a mask, he would have flinched at the mention of your name. It hasn't even been two days since you were taken, and news in Mondstadt spreads slow. He wonders what Lisa -or Razor- would think if they knew what he did. That you're strapped to a chair in a private yet isolated Ragnvindr property. Would they be horrified? For you or against you? What would they think of him?

Not that it matters. Kaeya Alberich cares little for those who hurt his family.

Heh, he truly is no better than the Fatui.

"I'll inform you if I find the kids. Don't worry so much— for all we know, the Darknight Hero might've handled it already." Kaeya grins, waving Lisa away as he heads downtown.

— Angel's Share, City of Mondstadt

The tavern was as lively as always; perhaps a little too lively tonight with almost twice as many patrons crowding the first floor. Kaeya was quick to find out why from a stray knight.

"Master Diluc has blocked the entire second floor. As for why he did it. . . Who knows? Perhaps he's expecting some important guests. He didn't say."

Ignoring the "Do Not Enter" sign hanging from a chain on the staircase, Kaeya leaps over it with ease and climbs the stairs. He isn't sure what to expect; did Diluc perhaps invited suspects of the Delusion trade? Did a high-ranking Fatui offer a deal or a contract that needed further discussion? Whatever it is, Kaeya will be sure to assist his big brother the vigilante no matter what the situation.

What he didn't expect was to see Diluc collapsed on a corner table, a glass of wine in hand and several bottles surrounding him. Kaeya's jaw laxes at the sight.

What. The. F*ck.

Upon closer inspection, Kaeya notices the littered bottles were full. Every single one save for the opened fire whiskey on the table.

"Snezhnayan alcohol? Really? And here I thought you'd despise anything from that place." He sighs, settling himself across from the man whose face was buried between his arms on the table. "So you barred everyone from half the tavern space just so you could get wasted in peace?"

Kaeya's tone is light, if not teasing, but there's an undertone of distaste at the wine tycoon's actions.

How could Diluc allow someone to affect him this much? You'd think the redhead would've learned his lesson about betrayal before you came along.

"Are you even conscious?" Kaeya reaches out to poke Diluc's scalp, earning a groan. The cryo user rubs a hand over his face, honestly, this was so unnecessary.

"Here I was worrying about how the delusion trade. To think you went ahead and started drinking. Didn't you think I would like that as well? If not more than you?" He rambles, eyeing the fluff of red hair on the table. There's a muffled sound escaping it.

". . -urts. . . "

"Pardon?"

Diluc finally looks up from his folded arms, red eyes on Kaeya's own. It's redder than usual, outlining his eyes. Had he been crying?

The expression on his older brother's face. . . it's heartbreaking.

"I didn't think it would hurt this much, Kae," Diluc whimpers.

It's a sound that seems so soft and vulnerable, like he was nine years old again, crying good bye to a hollowed turtle shell as Kaeya held the lampgrass flowers. It only made the cavalry captain churn in contempt. How could you do this to Diluc?

Kaeya selfishly wonders if he's a little lower on Diluc's hate list now.

He also wonders if he went too easy on you.

Kaeya, unable to confront Diluc's hurt, decides to change the subject. ". . . Lisa is looking for (Name). It's only a matter of time before she gets suspicious. I suggest we make a report to Jean before word gets out of their disappearance."

"Like. . . admit it?" Diluc looks on desperately. Kaeya doesn't recognize the emotion.

"Admit what?"

"That they're Fatui? Admit that to Jean?"

Kaeya raises an eyebrow, "Yes?" his visible eye then narrows, "Don't tell me you plan to keep this under wraps? You're— you're protecting them?"

Diluc clenches his jaw.

"No."

Then,

"It's not that. It's not the time—" Diluc sighs, sitting straight before alcohol sways him, his stance losing balance while sitting. "Don't report to Jean."

"Diluc." Kaeya tsked.

"Kae."

". . . Fine. Not yet." Kaeya stands up, swiping a full bottle from the table to settle under his arm. "But eventually. And if you won't do it, I will." He turns to leave before a voice calls out to him again.

Kaeya faces Diluc, whose eyes are anywhere but on him.

"You said. . . you think I'd despise everything from Snezh." Diluc starts slowly, "I don't." He says, then in a quieter voice, "I can't. Can't despise everything from that place."

Kaeya frowns before turning on his heel, leaving the redhead alone.

•

The rim of a glass bottle settles on your lips and you mouth it willingly. Instead of alcohol like you'd expect, it's water. Almost warm to drink.

You blink. Eyes trailing up the gloved hand to see a redhead looking down on you. Diluc's expressionless face looks back but doesn't make eye contact.

"I'm. . ." You mumble, everything about this feels strange. It feels like warmth, it feels comforting, "I'm still in the basement, aren't I? Still strapped to that chair?"

Diluc nods.

Thunder roars outside. Whether you're too worn out to or too out of it to acknowledge the fear, you don't flinch at the sound.

"Kaeya is drafting a report on you. You'll be branded as a spy to Mond publicly. You wouldn't be allowed back again." He says nonchalantly. You remain silent.

You'll be a Persona Non Grata to Mondstadt. Unwelcomed in the Nation of Freedom.

A bowl of onion soup is pushed in front of you. You realize he's trying to feed you.

"You'll need to eat. It'll be a while before Jean gets the report. While waiting, we still have questions for you." He sounds impassive, almost cold. You allow yourself to nod as a spoonful is raised towards you.

Another rumble of thunder shakes the room. It must be a basement, judging by the way the walls shake.

Diluc places the bowl aside and walks away. He climbs the stairs and he shuts the door close. You realize he left it open when he entered.

He returns to yoyr side and thunder rumbles again, much quieter this time by the closed door.

Does he remember? Does he care? You don't dare ask.

In the quiet of the room and his spoonfuls of soup, he mutters;

"What is your mission?"

Before quickly replacing the interrogative question.

"Why me?"

Yes, why him? Infiltrate Mond and be the backbone of the Delusion trade was the mission. You played the role of an insider, bonding with merchants and understanding the innermost trade routes of the nation. It just so happens that alcohol circulated the most, making it easier to understand the market flow.

It didn't need to be him, yet you found yourself needing him.

"It didn't have to be you." You mutter in truth.

"But it was me. Why?" He asks again, sitting straighter now, "(Name), I want to try and understand—" why did you love?

You don't understand the question. To you, it was simple. You had a job to do and you met someone great while doing it. Betrayal was secondary to things like the Tsaritsa's will or love. Surely, Diluc would understand?

But Diluc came from the land of freedom. He doesn't bend to the will of Barbatos who racks up a tab in his own tavern. He doesn't take well to betrayal, not after what the knights did (what Kaeya did, what the Ordo did).

Diluc does not understand that.

When you don't reply, he settles for another question. Because he's learnt that questions are better than drawing your blade first (he should have done the same for his little brother. He knows better now.)

"Was anything true?"

Did you love him? was the question on his tongue but too afraid to say.

You bite your lip.

"If there's anything. . . anything you have to believe about me," You say slowly, carefully, "It's my feelings for you."

His eyes meet yours as you continue.

"But there are forces much bigger than us in this world, Diluc."

A flash of hurt crosses his face before it settles into something unreadable. The rest of the soup is eaten quietly.

•

"I really don't think we should be here."

"Shhh. Smells. Blood."

You stir, hearing footsteps on creaky wood and two boyish voices. One whiny, the other alert.

"That's even more of a reason! W-what if there's. . . ghosts?"

"Razor will protect friend Bennett."

"Why don't we just leave?"

"Shhh!"

They're closer now, the first step on the staircase. You snap awake, looking around the room to see Diluc and Kaeya gone. How long were you passed out?

"Person. Blood." Razor's voice points out from the stairs and you know he sees you. Bennett all but shrieks—

"G-ghost! Let's get out of here, Raz—"

"(Name)?" Razor tilts his head, recognizing your smell.

"What?" Bennett blinks.

"(Name)!" The wolf boy rushes down the stairs and you hold your breath. They don't know, do they? Did Kaeya pass the report to Jean? Has it been announced yet?

Judging by their frantic concern, you suppose not.

"B-bennett? Razor?" You exhale, glad to have had something to eat prior otherwise you wouldn't have had the strength to talk.

"Mx. (Name)!" Bennett rushes up to you, hands going over the restraints on your limbs. He doesn't hesitate to figure out how to remove them. Razor whimpers at the sight of you.

"(Name). Hurt?"

"Why— Who did this to you?" Bennett summons the power of pyro, the chain breaking under its pressure. It's impressive how someone so unlucky controls his flames.

"I'm alright," You reassure them and try to mean it, racking your brain for a logical excuse, "The Fatui might come back. We have to go." Finally freeing your wrists and massaging them. The skin around it is raw and painful.

A smaller version of Bennett's burst appears on the ground of your feet. Energy courses through you and you feel the skin healing, along with your fatigue and other wounds. You sigh in relief.

"Those bad guys! We have to report this to the knights!" Bennett says quickly, "They're not gonna get away with this!"

"Miss Lisa help. Knights help!" Razor nods as quickly, helping you up on wobbling legs. They don't notice your silence as you climb the stairs and exit the building to Wolvendom. The basement must be part of the Dawn Winery's storehouse.

The sun is setting, you guess you're approaching your third day of capture.

"How were you captured? What did they do to you? What about Master Diluc–?" Bennett rambles on.

"Why capture..?" Razor mutters from behind you, softer. You know he's more curious than suspicious. He wouldn't assume anything bad of you.

You think of your position. You don't know if you've been ousted, you aren't sure where to go from Mond— what you do know is there's a Fatui outpost by Springvale functioning under legal jurisdiction.

You look at the boys. Bennett continues to ramble how this shouldn't have happened and turning to the adults, while Razor growls about protecting those he care about.

You think of your mission.

Distributing delusions for the Tsaritsa.

Teenagers asking for power.

Ambition.

"Bennett, Razor, would you two come with me?"

•••

note !! I understand that I ended this with a pretty big plot diversion, but don't worry! the fic still focuses on diluc and reader's relationship :) next chapter would be the final chapter where everything falls into place!

gen taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @shizunxie

loyalties taglist !! @escapeis @leftdestiny-posts @manjimeowmeow @sup-zfam @hangezoessidehoe @liyacreate @sheepispink @juminsamore @shadowfireblue @radnvindr @ashjustlikesthings @yengre @ashgayasfuzz @chiisananingen @lavynne @senjusbuddy @i-x4o @shuriiiewrites @mizu-san @kitrinafalcon @rekikyansimp @probably-rk @theonlysol @vnsmiles @reisinnie @aomur @annoying-and-upset @evapori @mostydreamscape @mariinggg

character analysis / notes !! im so glad to know kaeya and diluc's canon relationship seems to fit in here. after studying their characters again, i feel like kaeya would be more law abiding in scenarios like this, wanting to be transparent with jean and the others, whereas diluc wouldve kept things to himself.

also!! diluc wouldve definitely learned his lesson about attacking first before talking it out :< i just think hed make more of an effort to understand people, the fact that you're fatui just makes it a little more difficult but he did/does love you, he wants to try dhhshxhs

if you read the last chapter, youd see i hinted that "youd have to be real lucky to escape" xp which is ironic bc bennett.

childe and venti would be in the next chapter :> finalized the outline for it and hoping i could get it out soon. it'll be a little difficult to write the conclusion but i hope it satisfies!

#hira loyalties #diluc x reader #diluc #genshin #genshin impact #kaeya #genshin diluc #ragbros #genshin kaeya #genshin x reader #fatui reader #genshin imagines #genshin series #diluc ragnvindr #bennett #razor #genshin bennett #genshin razor #genshin angst #genshin jean #genshin lisa #lisa #jean #genshin angst/comfort #fatui

[aronarchy]

The extent of Russia’s influence in Sudan goes beyond its involvement in the current war. It’s not only fueling war in Sudan but it’s the reason Russia is able to continue its war in Ukraine and other places despite being sanctioned by the West. Russia is surviving western sanctions by exploiting, smuggling gold and aiding the Sudanese Transitional Military Council (TMC) in the suppression of the pro-civilian led government movement.

In 2014, Putin was vocal about creating an economic plan to circumvent potential Western sanctions tied to the Ukraine war. By 2017, they began extending lifelines to autocrats, and unsurprisingly, former Sudanese President Omar Al-Bashir joined Putin’s economic pipeline. After a meeting between the two presidents, Russian geologists and mineralogists employed by Meroe Gold arrived in Sudan.

The Russian companies, including Wagner, a private military company linked to Russia and frequently engaged in conflicts worldwide, began establishing a presence in Sudan. Notably, Wagner leader is under US sanctions, accused of meddling in the 2020 US elections. In 2020, under Trump administration, the group was sanctioned for its heavy exploitation of Sudan’s natural resources. The exploitation was so evident that they literally had to be sanctioned by Trump, which is quite surprising.

In 2019, following Al-Bashir’s overthrow, Wagner transitioned to striking deals with the Rapid Support Forces militia general, Hemeti. This militia, formerly known as Janjaweed and implicated in the Darfur genocide, received weapons and training. Wagner, in return, gained access to smuggled gold and devised plans to maintain control, ultimately contributing to today’s proxy war in Sudan.

The method of gold smuggling involved disguising it as flying cookies and concealing the smuggled gold beneath Russian cookie boxes. 🤣

In 2022, @/nimaelbagir a Sudanese journalist and CNN’s Chief International Investigative Correspondent went to a Russian owned gold mining facility in Sudan. Watch her report here ⬇️

Full report here:

In June 2022, the Darfur Bar Association (DBA) launched an investigation and confirmed Wagner mercenaries presence in South Darfur after its attack on gold miners in South Darfur. The investigation also revealed that the Transitional Military council (SAF+RSF) knew about the presence of Wagner in Sudan and in 2019 a copy of the report was actually sent to then prime minister Hamadok.

The DBA investigation also revealed how the UAE is involved in Sudan and its role in the current war. There’s also an extensive investigation report on the role of the UAE in Sudan by the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal that proves the UAE involvement in Sudan.

How are the UAE and Russia linked you might ask?

1) Most Sudanese gold passes through the United Arab Emirates. Unofficial data from the United Arab Emirates reported that over $1.7bn of Sudanese gold landed in Dubai in 2021, just under half the value of all the country’s exports. But there is little accurate data tracking it after it arrives in the UAE (arrives via Russia). Most industry exports reckon that official figures account for less than a quarter of total gold sales. Khartoum’s central bank recorded gold exports of 26.4 tonnes from January to September in 2021 but estimates over 100 tonnes would have been smuggled out during that period. (Africa Confidential)

Amdjarass, the Chadian town just across the Sudanese border, is the base from which the UAE is running an operation supposedly to help Sudanese refugees. But behind the façade of what the UAE maintains are humanitarian efforts, lies covert weapons, drones, and medical treatment to injured RSF fighters. (The Africa Report)

A U.S. Ally Promised to Send Aid to Sudan. It Sent Weapons Instead. (WSJ)

The New York Times report on how the UAE is further involved ⬇️

2) In April 2023, following the onset of the war in Sudan, the Wagner group was exposed by CNN for allegedly supplying missiles to the RSF in their conflict against the Sudanese armed forces (SAF). The arms came through the UAE under the guise of humanitarian aid for Sudanese refugees in Chad. These armaments were destined for the UAE’s local proxy, the RSF, in Sudan’s western region. In addition, CNN exposed that the shipments of surface-to-air missiles provided by Wagner were destined for the RSF via flights shuttling the hardware from Latakia, Syria, to Khadim, Libya, and then airdropped to northwestern Sudan, where the RSF enjoys a strong presence. This support from Wagner is considered a significant factor contributing to the RSF’s continuation of the war and their reported atrocities against Sudanese civilians, including killing, looting, sexual violence, and mass destruction of Sudan’s infrastructure.

The satellite images from CNN and the open-source group “All Eyes On Wagner,” provide evidence of an escalated Wagner presence at the bases of Khalifa Haftar, the leader of a Libyan militia supported by Wagner, in Libya. This heightened presence was purportedly in preparation to assist the RSF militia against the SAF.

Full report here:

3) There is evidence that the UAE has been funding Wagner in Libya to help reduce the financial burden on Russia for its Libyan operations and has been deploying these forces to prop up its ally, General Khalifa Haftar, who has been fighting the UN-recognized Government of National Accord in Tripoli. The report that the UAE is funding Wagner in Libya actually came from the US department of defense, which again is a surprise considering the close alliance of the US and the UAE.

East Africa Counterterrorism Operation, North and West Africa Counterterrorism Operation Quarterly Report to Congress, July 1, 2020‒September 30, 2020

#repost of someone else’s content #twitter repost #sudan #keep eyes on sudan #sudanese genocide #uae #russia #putin #wagner #rsf #proxy war #genocide #free sudan #liberate sudan

[ten-cent-sleuth]

A Galling Yoke, Part 2

<- Prev | Next ->

for the “That actually hurt” square on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

DO NOT TRY AT HOME THE EXPERIMENT DEPICTED BELOW.

For days, you had successfully avoided Sherlock. There had, admittedly, been close calls: once, you had been about to exit the library when you heard the floorboards creak in the corridor and decided to wait until silence had again fallen, and upon peeking out the door, you glimpsed Sherlock’s coattails as he rounded the corner; ereyesterday, you had been walking down the stairs when you spotted a familiar silhouette coming your way, and you had had just enough time to turn around and act like you had been going above-stairs instead, though your bad knee had protested at the rough reversal.

Such measures were necessary evils—necessary embarrassments. You did not want to see Sherlock. You did not want to talk to Sherlock. You could not talk to Sherlock. Too much was unsaid; too much was unknown; too little was unfelt.

So it was that you crept down the hallway in your own home, your ears tuned to Sherlock’s indelible timbre, your eyes cut on what was before you. Indeed, such focus served you well as you stepped back in time to avoid the kitchen door swinging open.

“Oh! Madam! I’m heartily sorry, I—”

“Fret not, Cook,” you reassured the scrawny woman in front of you. “You could not have seen me behind all those dishes—or, indeed, behind the wooden door. Would you have me call a maid for assistance?”

“No, no.” Cook craned her neck around the tower of plates in her arms and smiled. “Thanking you, ma’am.”

“Make no mention of it.” Gesturing to the door behind her, you asked, “Is Mrs Rogers in there?”

“The kitchen? ’Fraid not, ma’am, she be straightening out that new laundress.”

“I see. I had hoped to share my afternoon tea with her, but—”

“Oh! Well, I can have Lucy bring you a tray in your sitting-room if you wish it, ma’am.”

“Nonsense; Lucy must have plenty of chores to take care of. Since I am already here, I do not mind preparing my own tray. Although…if you wish it, Cook, feel free to join me once you have put those away.”

Cook’s eyes lowered almost as soon as they lit up. “Oh, ma’am, I couldn’t possibly—”

“Of course you could.” This time, you craned your neck to make sure she saw your smile. “If you are busy, then never you mind for today; we may have tea another time. However, if you would like to join me, please do.”

Finally, Cook met your gaze. “I would like to, ma’am. Tha— I thank you. I’ll return in a trice.”

With a nod, you let her pass before opening the door and slipping in. The pleased thrum in your veins that always arose after an auspicious social interaction vanished as you locked eyes with Sherlock across the kitchen.

“Wha—?”

“Your ladyship,” he greeted in a rush, bowing and straightening almost as quickly as he could, as though he did not want to let you out of his sight any longer than necessary. You barely had time to curtsy before he blurted out, “Do you always take your meals with your servants?”

You blinked, then you glowered. “Do you always eavesdrop on conversations in others’ private homes?”

“Not always, but sometimes a case does necessitate more underhanded methods…”

Scoffing, you turned away from him to begin preparing a tray of refreshments. “I hope, sir,” you bit out, “your now knowing that I do not treat those in my employ as a separate species is helpful to your investigation of my husband.”

A teacup rattled on its saucer as you placed it down, and you paused to take a steadying breath. How had so much bitterness seeped into your voice?

“I apologise that you thought I meant I was suspicious of you, when I had only overheard your conversation by accident, and the words I spoke were uttered out of confusion, not judgement.” Why does he sound so close? “I did not intend to offend you. In fact… Well, in fact, I had intended to thank you.”

You whirled around, but the “What do you mean?” on your lips broke into a gasp as you realised Sherlock was standing right there, right in front of you.

Holding your gaze, he said, “On my first day here without Lord Coltidge, your butler—Rogers, if I am not mistaken—told me that I had free rein to conduct my experiments if I wished to. That was kind of you.”

“Yes, well…” You adjusted your sleeves. “I recalled how those experiments helped you clear your mind when we were young, and I—” You bit down on your tongue before more bitter words about getting him out of your hair as quickly as possible could trip over it. “I wanted to save you the trouble of going between Baker Street and Grosvenor Square if I could, sir.”

Sherlock’s smile was as sudden and as dazzling as fireworks. “Would you like to…see what I am working on?”

You blinked again. “Er…” This time, you did not have it in you to glower.

“Excellent!” He grabbed your hand, effectively silencing any protest from you with the abrupt dryness of your mouth, and pulled you to the counter at which he had been standing when you entered. “I have wanted to do an experiment such as this for a while now, but my flat does not have electricity. When did your house get outfitted with it?”

You shook yourself from staring at your and Sherlock’s clasped hands to answer, “Ah, ’82, perhaps? Not too long ago.”

“Brilliant!” he exclaimed, letting go of you to fiddle with whatever needed fiddling with. You bit your lip as you watched; his excitement was unnerving, not because you disliked it, but because it reminded you of the times when you shared his excitement.

You couldn’t possibly do so now.

“Since I did not want to waste an arc lamp, this contraption here shall inform us of a successful electrical current: if one is made, these tin cans shall have opposite charges, which shall make this metal earring essentially bounce between the cans.”

“Akin to a ringing bell?” you asked, not quite understanding Sherlock’s sparse simplification but managing to visualise the described results.

“Indeed! Now, see these two bowls? The first one I filled from over there—standard pump water. This one, I filled with deionised water; I had to buy that for a few florins.”

Your eyes bulged. “A few fl— For water?”

He chuckled at you, not in the way your brother did at times, but…you shook your head and paid attention to his explanation: “’Tis worth it, I assure you, at least if you are curious-minded as I am or you are”—confound the heat rising in your cheeks at how easily he grouped himself with you!—“and I shall prove it to you. Electricity does not traverse all matter equally. That is why these wires”—he pointed to the couple of cords resting on the counter, each attached to the bell-to-be contraption—“are made of copper but wrapped in rubber.”

Gently, he took your hand again and laid your fingertips on top of the wire. “The rubber is safe to touch, see? No electrical shock.”

“But the copper is not?” you couldn’t help but ask, shifting towards the naked end of the wire. Before you could make contact though, Sherlock snatched your wrist away.

“Do not—!”

You stared up at him. “Mr Holmes?”

Eyes darting away, he cleared his throat. “It would not permanently injure you, but it would…it would hurt. A little. I suppose.” He blushed with the weakness of his argument, and you chuckled, which seemed to bolster him. “If you would truly like to touch the water, I believe I know how you may do so in a safe but curiosity-satiating way. Do you trust me?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “In matters of science? Unreservedly.”

He hesitated, as though he could hear the chained beast struggling in the cage of your ribs, before nodding and picking up one wire. “This bowl has the deionised water,” he said. “Ions are rather permissive of electrical charges, so do you believe this water will be safer or riskier than the pump water?”

After thinking it over, you replied, “Safer?”

“Have a little confidence in your hypothesis, my lady.” Were his smiles always so soft? “Now, I shall wrap this wire around your middle finger…”

As you watched him do so, you sluggishly wondered whether he had truly been holding your wrist this whole time—and how you had not noticed before this moment.

“I shall let go of you now, then you may dip in your index finger, but you must not touch anything besides the water. Your dress must not even skim the table. Oh—you are wearing rubber-soled shoes, are you not?”

Your lips twitched; he really had not changed. “Yes, Mr Holmes, luckily for you the Harding Street cordwainer recently made the first batch for ladies. They are quite put out that the Americas fashioned them first.”

Chuckling, Sherlock placed the second wire into the bowl, then jerked his head at you. On an inhale, you dipped your finger into the water.

You felt nothing, yet the contraption rang as Sherlock described, the earring slamming into one tin can then flying into the other then back into the first and so on.

“My!” you breathed. “Am I playing a part in this? I feel naught! Yet how could I be uninvolved?”

As he explained open and closed circuits, a cold numbness spread across you, the realisation that your resolve to resist his enthusiasm and his intimacy had crumbled so soon and so easily. But dash it all, of course restraint was difficult when Sherlock was so…was so…was so unrestrained. You had been marvelling at how familiar he was after all these years, but now, that familiarity soured in your mouth. Did he truly not feel the need, as you did, to avoid a renewed attachment? Was he truly unaffected, then, by how you two had parted ways?

“Why do you not do something, too?” you asked before you could think better of it, cutting into his spiel as sharply as you wished to cut out his disruptive presence in your perfectly contented life.

Oblivious to the edge in your voice, Sherlock smiled, and guilt sprouted in your stomach. “Why not, indeed,” he answered as he gestured for you to lift your hand out of the water. Taking both wires and submerging them in the other bowl, he said, “Electricity shall move more easily through the pump water, but it always takes the most direct path. Hence, when the wires are beside each other like this, I can put my hand in on the other end of the bowl and be unharmed.”

He did so, and shrugged at you to show he felt nothing.

“However, the closer I drift, the more I shall feel.” When his hand moved into the middle of the bowl, he added, “Ah, here, it begins: something feels off.” When his hand was nearly at the wires, he cried out, “The current is certainly passing through me now. Is this not thrilling, your ladyship? Do you not miss my experiments?”

His words struck you in the chest, knocking the breath out of you. What questions! With every inhale to regain your equilibrium, you seemed to breathe in poisonous anger as well. What questions! “Why do you stop there?” you asked. “Would it be unsafe to pass directly between the wires?”

Sherlock blinked. “Er—no, I do not believe it would be. When I first tried this earlier, I was tempted to do so even, but I had second thoughts.”

You did not speak, focused on calming yourself. You were normally quite good at controlling your words of frustration and offence—having a viscount for a baby brother and a pompous old earl for a father would do that to a lady. What about Sherlock made you speak out of pain that you didn’t even acknowledge to yourself?

Before you realised how he might take your silence, Sherlock moved his hand between the wires. The next instant, he yanked it out of the water and yelped, “Bloody hell!”

Shaking his hand at the wrist, he gave you a sheepish look. “Pardon my language, your ladyship. I did not expect… I shall have to note down that doing that actually hurts…”

He glanced around for his notebook, and for both your and his sakes, you tried to joke, “Have I aught to pardon? You shall remember that you and I learned that language side by side at Ferndell.”

Turning to you, Sherlock was most certainly not laughing. Bemusement rent the smoothness of his brow, and what typically gave you a boost of pride—how often did one befuddle the great Sherlock Holmes, after all?—only sickened you now, as hurt clouded his expression. “There is bitterness in your tone and mien,” he remarked. “Have I done something?”

The guilt that had sprouted in your stomach took strangling root in your hip, in your knee, in your ankles, and you suddenly had to lean on the counter for support. “Mr Holmes…” How could you answer that question, so simple yet so complex? You had thought avoiding him would protect you, but maybe it would be more effective to face your muddled emotions head-on. “Perhaps it is time we talk.”

“I would like nothing more”—he hesitated—“my lady.”

You took a deep breath. “Why did you take this case?”

He took the wires out of the bowl, to all appearances to stop the contraption’s dinging but, you knew, truthfully to occupy his hands. “I…wanted to see you.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Of all answers, you had not expected that.

Seeing your face, he rushed out, “When your father came to me, I saw it as my opportunity. It has been years, I know, but I never stopped—”

“Why did you not write?” you burst out. “Or call on me? You knew the Voss London address! If you had somehow forgotten it, the walk from Ferndell Hall to Jotyard Manor so you could ask my brother is very little time compared to fifteen years!”

Sherlock grimaced. “Petal, you know how I struggle with…with… See, it was always you who could explain to me which social avenues are permitted and which are disallowed! I had never visited your house in Town, nor had I visited your estate, come to think of it—you always came to Ferndell. How was I to know I could simply call on you?”

Incredulous, you stood with your mouth agape.

He rubbed his face. “I see now that I…maybe I ought not to have taken the case after all,” he sighed. “You do not seem to want to see me, although I have been struggling to understand why.”

The guilt flowered, its blossoms stuffing your lungs.

“At first,” he mused, “I thought you were being distant because the years had cleaved you to your station. You seemed to look down on my work—my ‘exploits’, as you called it. You acted the part of an earl’s daughter more dutifully than I think your governess would have thought possible. You revoked the permission you had happily given me to call you your Christian name. I was displeased but satisfied with these findings, then today, I…”

He looked at the door behind you, and you remembered the conversation with Cook he had overheard.

“No. Evidently, you are the same girl I knew who does not think she is better than everyone else for simply being born a Voss.” Turning back to you, his eyes pierced you. “Why then do you sneer at me, your ladyship?”

Sneer? “Do you— Do you seriously not understand why the very sight of you hurts me?”

Loathsome tears stung the backs of your eyes, but even through your blurry vision, you could make out the surprise on Sherlock’s face.

The guilt withered.

“So it is then,” you said. “In that case, I can only imagine how little regard you have for the battered vessel in my chest.”

The door behind you opened. “Ma’am, I—”

“Cook, I have prepared the sandwiches and the cups, but I fear I have forgotten to boil the tea.” Brusquely, you went towards the door. “Would you please prepare that, then bring the tray to the… Oh, I do not know, how do you like the yellow room?”

“I never been,” she replied, eyeing something over your shoulder, “but I’ll ask Lucy for directions. Everything all right, ma’am?”

“Certainly,” you said as you blinked away your tears. At the threshold, you turned back briefly and curtsied, but did not dare lift your gaze.

Thank you for reading. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for updates. :) Feedback is always welcome! Nota bene that I totally screwed with scientific history in London here though; I tried to stay true to the timeline of electrical and deionisation technology, but yeah no, parts of Sherlock’s experiment would not have been possible for at least a couple of decades. Sorry! 😂

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock x reader #enola holmes #a galling yoke #the dimensions of fandom

[justinspoliticalcorner]

[TW: Corporal Punishment, Child Abuse, Child Neglect. Cruel and Unusual Punishment Of A Minor]

Molly Parker and Beth Hundsdorfer at Capitol News Illinois, via ProPublica:

It was on L.J.’s 11th birthday, in December 2022, that child welfare workers finally took him away. They arrived at his central Illinois home to investigate an abuse allegation and decided on the spot to remove the boy along with his baby brother and sister — the “Irish twins,” as their parents called them. His mother begged to keep the children while her boyfriend told child welfare workers and the police called to the scene that they could take L.J.: “You wanna take someone? Take that little motherfucker down there or wherever the fuck he is at. I’ve been trying to get him out of here for a long time.” By that time, L.J. told authorities he hadn’t been in a classroom for years, according to police records. First came COVID-19. Then, in August 2021 when he was going to have to repeat the third grade, his mother and her boyfriend decided that L.J. would be homeschooled and that they would be his teachers. In an instant, his world shrank to the confines of a one-bedroom apartment in the small Illinois college town of Charleston — no teachers, counselors or classmates.

In that apartment, L.J. would later tell police, he was beaten and denied food: Getting leftovers from the refrigerator was punishable by a whipping with a belt; sass was met with a slap in the face. L.J. told police he got no lessons or schoolwork at home. Asked if he had learned much, L.J. replied, “Not really.” Reporters are using the first and middle initials of the boy, who is now 12 and remains in state custody, to protect his identity. While each state has different regulations for homeschooling — and most of them are relatively weak — Illinois is among a small minority that places virtually no rules on parents who homeschool their children: The parents aren’t required to register with any governmental agency, and no tests are required. Under Illinois law, they must provide an education equivalent to what is offered in public schools, covering core subjects like math, language arts, science and health. But parents don’t have to have a high school diploma or GED, and state authorities cannot compel them to demonstrate their teaching methods or prove attendance, curriculum or testing outcomes.

The Illinois State Board of Education said in a statement that regional education offices are empowered by Illinois law to request evidence that a family that homeschools is providing an adequate course of instruction. But, the spokesperson said, their “ability to intervene can be limited.” Educational officials say this lack of regulation allows parents to pull vulnerable children like L.J. from public schools then not provide any education for them. They call them “no schoolers.” No oversight also means children schooled at home lose the protections schools provide, including teachers, counselors, coaches and bus drivers — school personnel legally bound to report suspected child abuse and neglect. Under Illinois law, parents may homeschool even if they would be disqualified from working with youth in any other setting; this includes parents with violent criminal records or pending child abuse investigations, or those found to have abused children in the past.

The number of students from preschool to 12th grade enrolled in the state’s public schools has dropped by about 127,000 since the pandemic began. Enrollment losses have outpaced declines in population, according to a report by Advance Illinois, a nonprofit education policy and advocacy organization. And, despite conventional wisdom, the drop was also not the result of wealthier families moving their children to private schools: After the pandemic, private school enrollment declined too, according to the same report.

In the face of this historic exodus from public schools, Capitol News Illinois and ProPublica set out to examine the lack of oversight by education and child welfare systems when some of those children disappear into families later accused of no-schooling and, sometimes, abuse and neglect. Reporters found no centralized system for investigating homeschooling concerns. Educational officials said they were ill equipped to handle cases where parents are accused of neglecting their children’s education. They also said the state’s laws made it all but impossible to intervene in cases where parents claim they are homeschooling. Reporters also found that under the current structure, concerns about homeschooling bounce between child welfare and education authorities, with no entity fully prepared to step in.

“Although we have parents that do a great job of homeschooling, we have many ‘no schoolers’” said Angie Zarvell, superintendent of a regional education office about 100 miles southwest of Chicago that covers three counties and 23 school districts. “The damage this is doing to small rural areas is great. These children will not have the basic skills needed to be contributing members of society.” Regional education offices, like the one Zarvell oversees, are required by law to identify children who are truant and try to help get them back into school. But once parents claim they are homeschooling, “our hands are tied,” said Superintendent Michelle Mueller, whose regional office is located about 60 miles north of St. Louis. Even the state’s child welfare agency can do little: Reports to its child abuse hotline alleging that parents are depriving their children of an education have multiplied, but the Department of Children and Family Services doesn’t investigate schooling matters. Instead, it passes reports to regional education offices. [...]

There’s no way to determine the precise number of children who are homeschooled. In 2022, 4,493 children were recorded as withdrawn to homeschool, a number that is likely much higher because Illinois doesn’t require parents to register homeschooled children. That is a little more than double the number a decade before. In late fall of 2020, L.J. was one of the kids who slipped out of school. After a roughly five-month hiatus from the classroom during the pandemic, L.J.’s school resumed in-person classes. The third grader, however, was frequently absent. At home, tensions ran high. In the 640-square-foot apartment, L.J.’s mother, Ashley White, and her boyfriend, Brian Anderson, juggled the demands of three children including two born just about 10 months apart. White, now 31, worked at a local fast-food restaurant. Anderson, now 51, who uses a wheelchair, had applied for disability payments. Anderson doesn’t have a valid driver’s license. The family lived in a subsidized housing complex for low-income seniors and people with disabilities.

In an interview with reporters in late February, 14 months after L.J. had been taken into custody by the state, the couple offered a range of explanations for why he hadn’t been in school. L.J. had been suspended and barred from returning, they said, though school records show no expulsion. They also said they had tried to put L.J. in an alternative school for children with special needs, but he didn’t have a diagnosis that qualified him to attend. The couple made clear they believed that L.J. was a problem child who could get them in trouble; they said they thought he could get them sued. In the interview, Anderson called L.J. a pathological liar, a thief and a bad kid. “I have 11 kids, never had a problem with any of them, never,” Anderson said. “I’ve never had a problem like this,” he said of L.J. The boy, he said, lacked discipline and continued to get “worse and worse and worse every year” he’d known him.

To support the idea that L.J. was combative, White provided a copy of a screenshot taken from a school chat forum in which the boy cursed at his schoolmates. At the end of the school year, in spring 2021, the principal told White and Anderson that the boy would have to repeat the third grade. Rather than have L.J. held back, the couple pulled him out of school to homeschool. They didn’t have to fill out any paperwork or give a reason. On any given day in Illinois, a parent can make that same decision. That’s due to a series of court and legislative decisions that strengthened parents’ rights against state interference in how they educate their children.

[...] Faced with cases of truancy or educational neglect, county prosecutors can press charges against parents. But if they do, parents can lean on Illinois’ parental protections when they defend themselves in court from a truancy charge. [...] More recently, the ISBE made one more decision to loosen the monitoring of parents who homeschool: For years, school districts and regional offices distributed voluntary registration forms to families who homeschool, some of whom returned them. Then last year, the state agency told those regional offices that they no longer had to send those forms to ISBE.

[...] Over the years, the legislature has taken up proposals to strengthen the state’s oversight of homeschooling. In 2011, lawmakers considered requiring parents to notify their local school districts of their intent to homeschool, and in 2019 they considered calling for DCFS to inspect all homeschools and have ISBE approve their curriculum. Each time, however, the state’s strong homeschooling lobby, mostly made up of religious-based organizations, stepped in. This March, under sponsorship of the Illinois Christian Home Educators, homeschoolers massed at the state Capitol as they have for decades for Cherry Pie Day, bringing pies to each of the state’s 177 lawmakers. Kirk Smith, the organization’s executive director and former public school teacher, summed up his group’s appeal to lawmakers: “All we want is to be left alone. And Illinois has been so good. We have probably the best state in the nation to homeschool.”

This @capitolnewsil / @propublica story on how a set of parents decided to homeschool one of their kids, and it served as a crude excuse to abuse and torment that child.

This is one of the reasons why regulation-free homeschooling is a bad idea, and there ought to be some common sense regulations on homeschooling.

The main reason why Illinois remains regulation-free for homeschooling is the homeschooling lobby, which is disproportionately dominated by conservative evangelical/fundamentalist Protestants.

#Illinois #Homeschooling #Child Abuse #Corporal Punishmment #Cruel and Unusual Punishment #Illinois Christian Home Educators #Education #Child Neglect