#atfs answers

[mundy-mick]

I had dream where I was a rock living my best life but then you came up to me and called me a disappointment and I have been haunted ever since.

Take that as a sign and change your life accordingly

[alltimefail-sims]

I reread your post about how Moonwood Mill and Granite Falls could be connected, and I would be really interested to hear how you actually use Granite Falls in your game! For example, what lots do you put there and how do you play with it?

I recently downloaded a mod that makes Granite Falls liveable and I am hoping to incorporate it into my occult gameplay.

Thanks for all the posts you've made so far about your occult lore. I love reading about it!

Hi friend, I'm so sorry I took forever to get around to answering this! I haven't updated my mods or anything in a minute so I couldn't pop into my occult save to take specific screenshots (for fear of corrupting it), but I'll do my best to illustrate how I arrange it!

As you can see, I go with a pretty simple layout. I think werewolves, especially those in the Moonwood Collective, are no-frills when it comes to their living arrangements - it's really more about functionality and community than anything, and this world lends to that vibe so effectively.

Little bit about my lots:

The National Park: Because Moonwood Mill doesn't have a National Park and I think a core tenant of the Collective is environmentalism, I maintained the lot type but renamed it "Moonwood Falls." It acts as the divider between Moonwood Collective Territory and Wildfang territory - once you pass completely through it you'll see a trail that'll lead you directly to the Moonwood Commune if you follow it. I talked about it in a previous post, but one of The Collective's main duties is watching over the national park lands that are still left in Moonwood Mill, not just for the sake of environmentalism but also to keep threats at bay that might be traveling through. Also there are resources for herbalism that are easier to access on this type of lot, so I keep it for practical reasons as well!

Residential Rentals x3: The members of the Collective live simply and in close quarters to each other. The number of cabins range from lot to lot, but they were all built by hand by members of the collective and mostly serve the practical purposes of shelter during unpredictable weather and spaces to rest. Members of the Collective are not hanging around their houses all day, they're not watching TV or playing video games, they're all usually outdoors and almost always congregating together (big emphasis on community). The wolf family I play with primarily in this particular save lives in one of the cabins by the Volkov residence. Note: I haven't converted these to residential rentals yet in-game, but now that we have that feature I intend to! Before they were just residential lots that I would have multiple sims live on!

Community Space: This space is primarily a community garden and is the epicenter for the day-to-day activities that the members in the Collective engage in. Aside from gardening there are washtubs and clotheslines, a space to have communal meals and meetings (I imagine members of the Collective share resources more than not), various outdoor activities for kids and teens to engage in**, and even some sales tables. It's a skill-building/learning space, but it's also a fun space to build community and friendships. I kind of think of this space as the Collective's equivalent to the bar the Wildfangs congregate at. If you were to stumble upon the Collective's commune or visit as a guest, this is the first place you would be directed to. Lastly, I have a small "Medical" cabin set up on this space as well that obviously serves no in-game function other than housing restrooms. That being said, it appeases my personal lore that normal doctors would have 0 clue about how to treat a werewolf and their specific ailments (not to mention a werewolf from a pack like the Collective who has their own beliefs and methods on healing/treatments for their kind anyway) so a space such as this would be a necessity for any wolf pack.

The Volkov Residence: with Kristopher being the alpha, it only makes sense that the Volkov family home would be located in Granite Falls at the center of the commune, easily accessible from any part of the property. Although it's a large lot, again that's for a practical reason: I imagine a lot of the livestock and valuable resources are guarded by the alpha, so much of the lot's space is actually dedicated to those things. Kristopher, like the rest of the pack, lives quite simply and values practicality and inner peace above all. There are two interesting elements that set the alpha's house apart, however. First is a lookout tower, and second is the caging cellar*** beneath his home. Yes, a caging cellar is what it sounds like: it's a basement deep underground with barred enclosures that serve as dedicated spaces for "new turns," especially those that are particularly out of control of their bodies, or for particularly vicious/violent wolves that stumble across the commune's property - they are usually wolves without a pack, but occasionally Rory will have to come bail a Wildfang out lol. Needless to say this is one of many points of contention between Rory and Kristopher, but the wolves who find themselves in containment are not being punished: it's supposed to be a safety measure, and it's only utilized when necessary (but yes when you think about it, it's absolutely an ethical nightmare lmao).

** I have very convoluted lore about young wolves and schooling! The very brief overview is young children (newborn - kindergarten basically) do not go to traditional school environments and learn their basics from the adults around them at the community space (very hands-on learning style, like a non-traditional nature-based schooling). As they age, they do eventually go into town to receive their "formal" education alongside human peers, but there are still certain mandated lessons that are wolf-specific that they have to learn on the commune. Basically the "traditional" school acts as a part-time co-op where wolf children (1st grade to 12th grade, essentially) go to learn the things they cannot learn from the Collective (arithmetic/reading/writing/history/etc. you get it). It's funny because I'm sure most of their public school, non-wolf peers think they're a part of like a creepy religious cult or something lmao but they just can't have some teenage werewolf boy in the same gym class as a normie human unless they want an accident to happen, ya know?

*** Part of the contention with the caging cellars is actually rooted in the town's history with them - especially as it relates to anti-wolf hysteria and an uptick in hunters. As such, it's not unusual for them to be found in basements of some of the older houses in Moonwood Mill. Most of the younger locals have no idea what purpose they serve/served other than being lowkey creepy, but the older residents know what's up. In modern day, most people had theirs removed, not seeing a need for industrial cages in their basements lmao. HOWEVER, in my occult save, I have a headcanon that Celene López lives with her grandparents who are VERY educated in werewolf lore and although they're not against the wolves they do not trust them fully, so they still have a caging cellar in their basement... just in case! I have a whole storyline that I won't get into haha: I'll just say Lou became very familiar with that space when he transformed into a wolf. If you're curious about the details, feel free to ask!

Anyway, whew that was a lot but I think that just about covers it! As always, thank you for asking about this - I'm always happy to talk about this stuff, I just hate that it took me forever to get back to you! Hopefully it was worth the wait, and could help you or inspire you in some way as you build up your own wolf lore! I'm always curious to hear your thoughts about how you'd lay out Granite Falls as well, so feel free to share if you're so inclined. <3

+ For those who just read all this and have no idea what I'm on about, this ask piggybacks off of a previous ask on my werewolf lore which can be found here!

[zirkkun-games]

Regarding the keyboard direction inputs during the Asriel Fight; I found a good workaround by using my PC controller and twirling the left thumbstick around and around. For some reason, when I did this, none of the inputs registered as incorrect, and I was able to blaze through it. This is not a problem, in my opinion, I just wanted to share something that might help other people who were having difficulty~

Oh interesting. I do not have a controller to connect to my PC so I never tested this myself, but it does make sense that it would work. Glad it was a good workaround 😂✨

[mimikyu-oli]

I don't know why, but I think Millie and Alec could be friends. But what you're doing so far is quite interesting.

Do you have more things you plan to develop, for example character arcs?

Maybe because they were both trapped inside a bear? 😅

—-

Everything about Fazbear Frights right now is pretty much only one shots.

Beside that, one of my fics contains references and cameos of the books. But they aren’t really relevant in the story.

I don’t really think I have anything more.

Well, there’s Solitude among others that I’m thinking of maybe doing more than one chapter, but we’ll see. 🤔

I’m more like: « I have an idea! Here it is! You can write something about it! (Please write something about it. I would like people to get inspired by my stuff!)

[krirebr]

Still Life 1

Pairing: Alpha Curtis Everett x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Summary: Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad...

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending), past abuse (not Curtis), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, physical scarring, extreme sexism, adult themes, explicit language, All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me this time!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Well, this is for all of you who thought you'd seen the worst angst I could possibly do. Sorry for how much this one's gonna hurt!

Big thanks to @paperweight91 and @bigtreefest who both read so much of this and helped with structuring and world-building. And huge thanks to everyone who showed so much enthusiasm for this idea. I'm so excited to share this story with you!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Nzzzz Nzzzz Nzzzz

Nzzzz Nzzzz Nzzzz

It took a moment for Curtis to pull himself out of sleep enough to realize the incessant noise was his phone vibrating loudly on his nightstand. It took another moment for him to pull himself together enough to answer it. “Hello?” he croaked.

“Morning, Curtis,” a harried voice came through from the other end. “This is Yona from the Omega Welfare Center. I'm so sorry to call so early, but we've had kind of a crazy night here and we're in need of several emergency placements.”

That had him waking up. “What happened?” he asked, seriously, sitting up in bed.

She sighed, all of her exhaustion coming through. “A traditionalist compound a couple hours away got raided by the feds and ATF. They prepared for some omegas, but… There were a lot more. Kids too. It’s been all hands on deck at all five omega centers in the state. We’re over capacity, so we’re just trying to place anyone we can immediately.”

“Shit,” Curtis mumbled to himself. Traditionalist communities popped up on the news every once in a while, populated mostly by alphas on a power trip. But this one sounded bigger than most. He looked at his clock. It was just past five. “I’ve got room for one,” he said. “And I can be there in an hour.”

“Thank you, Curtis. I’ll see you soon.”

Fifty-five minutes later, Curtis was checking in at the center, his second coffee clutched in one hand. He’d been volunteering there as a foster Alpha for about three years. Mostly short-term placements. His longest one was just over a month. He provided safe touch, grounding, and a sense of security to omegas who needed to get back on their feet. He’d help them through heats when necessary, never knotting them, but whatever else they might need. Often, it was just his scent. It made him feel good, to be able to help these omegas, offer a positive alpha experience to omegas who hadn’t had many.

He’d worked with a few different case workers during his time. Yona had been the main one for the past year. He’d never heard her sound like she had that morning.

Even just at the front desk, he could sense how much more chaotic it was here than usual. He could hear babies screaming beyond the office door, endless anxious chatter. The entire building reeked of omegas in distress. It made his nose itch and his skin crawl.

After a few minutes of waiting, Yona came and got him. “How bad is it?” he asked the omega as she hurriedly led him down the hall. 

She showed him into a small meeting room as she answered, “Really, really bad. I’ve never seen anything like it. None of them are talking, but from what we can gather, most of them have spent their entire lives in the compound. No IDs, no papers. Figuring out who they are has been nearly impossible.  And as terrible as it may have been, their whole world was ripped apart in the last twenty-four hours. No one feels like cooperating. We hope you might have better luck as an alpha.”

“You think they'll talk to me?” 

She shakes her head. “Just the Omega we're placing with you. They've all been taught never to trust outsiders, but they've also been raised to see Alphas as the ultimate authority. So, it's worth a shot.”

He nodded, slowly. “What do you need?”

“Just basic identifying information for now. So we can see if she even exists in any sort of governmental system. Then we can go from there.”

“If you don’t have any information, what makes you think I’ll be a good fit for her?”

“Honestly,” Yona said, with a helpless shrug, “you only have room for one and she doesn’t have any pups. That’s it. Listen, I know this isn’t how we normally do things and I’m so sorry I’m just throwing you into it without any preparation, but we’re really desperate here. They’re all high needs, high risk. There’s no existing support network for them, and there are more of them than we have room for. So we called all of our most experienced, most dependable alphas first thing this morning so we can focus on the ones we have room to house here. I know it isn’t fair to you but–”

“Hey,” Curtis interrupted. “It’s ok, I understand. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out, a small fraction of the tension she’d been holding bleeding out of her shoulders. “Ok, I’m gonna go bring her in.” 

She slipped through the door and Curtis leaned against the table in the center of the room as he waited. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on putting together a to-do list. He had two sets of nesting supplies always ready, one with his scent and one without. In the next few days, he’d try to figure out if there was anything else this omega wanted for the nest. He’d gone grocery shopping the day before, so his pantry was stocked, but he’d see if there were any favorite comfort foods he could grab in his next shop. He needed to rearrange his work schedule, push back some deadlines so he’d have time to get the omega settled. He had no idea what they’d be bringing with them, so a shopping trip for toiletries and clothes would probably be necessary. Depending on the omega's state, maybe he'd be able to get the shopping done on the way back to his house. He glanced at the time on his phone. Shit. Depending on what was open.

At movement right outside the door, he stood at attention. Yona came back in with you right behind her. He took a good look at you. You wore a rumpled long-sleeved floral dress that went down to your ankles. It was faded like it’d been washed too many times. Your eyes were fixed on the tennis shoes you wore, which had probably been white at one point, but now were discolored and looked like they didn’t fit quite right. 

There was a little hand-written number ten pinned to your dress. He wanted to raise a judgemental brow at Yona, but if none of you would say your names, he supposed Yona and her team had to come up with some way to keep track of you all.

He had to stifle a gasp when his eyes landed on your neck. There was a large bite scar over your mating gland. Unlike the neat and pretty, well-healed ones he was used to seeing, yours was deep and jagged, red and white, scar tissue bubbling up where your flesh had clearly been torn. This didn’t look like a mating bite. It was the sort of bite meant to inflict pain. What sort of alpha had you had??

Your eyes stayed on the floor, your expression blank but your scent said so much – panic, sadness, terror, relief all jumbled together. He wanted to reach out and touch you, his alpha instincts were going haywire, but he kept his hands to himself. 

“This is Curtis,” Yona said to you. “He's the alpha who's going to look after you until we can get all this sorted.”

You didn’t react at all, just stood there, stiff as a board with your eyes on your shoes.

He stayed where he was, conscious of giving you space. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he said, as gently as he could. Then, with a glance to Yona, “Can you tell me your name?”

Your face scrunched up and the fear in your scent spiked but you didn’t say anything. He sighed. Shit. He really didn’t want to have to use an alpha command with you right now. That could be disastrous for any dynamic he tried to build with you. But they needed this information. He really, really hoped you wouldn’t make him force you.

“Omega, what’s your name?” he asked as firmly as he could, hopefully without scaring you. “I need to know.”

You closed your eyes tightly and he thought he saw the smallest little head shake. There was another moment of silence and he looked at Yona nervously. But then, you said it. So quietly he almost didn’t catch it. But you said it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yona frantically scribbling it down, but his focus was completely on you.

He tried to keep his sigh of relief to himself. “That was so good. Thank you. You’re doing so well,” he said, keeping the praise soft, hoping you could scent how pleased he was with you. “When were you born?”

You gave up your birthday a little more easily, but you left off the year. 

“That’s great. Thank you. Do you know how old you are?” he asked, maintaining his gentle tone, knowing it was possible that you didn’t.

For whatever reason, it was that that finally got a reaction out of you. You looked up at him, so he could finally see your eyes, and snarled, “I’m not stupid!”

There was a beat when no one did anything. Curtis and Yona just stared at you in shock. The snarl was frozen on your face until it suddenly disappeared and your eyes got wide. Before he was able to process any of what was happening, you’d dropped down onto your knees. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, Alpha. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Alpha, I’m sorry.” You just keep repeating that in a constant stream, your head tucked to your chest.

Repeatedly mixed into that jumble was a number. It took Curtis a few moments to realize it was your age. You were answering his question. He quietly repeated it to Yona, then dropped down to his knees as well so he could be closer to your level. “Hey, hey. You’re okay. You’re alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re right. You aren’t stupid. I can already tell how smart you are. It’s okay. I’m not mad.” He wanted to reach out and touch you, wrap you in his arms, even, comfort you however he could. But he was too afraid that that’d make you panic even more. That was a boundary he couldn’t cross. Not yet. He stayed down there, whispering reassurances to you for as long as it took for you to stop apologizing, and a few extra minutes for your breathing to calm down. Once you seemed like you were back in the present moment, he moved to a crouch. “Think you can stand up for me, honey?”

You nodded, but you were back to keeping your eyes downcast. “Yes, Alpha.”

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to call him ‘Alpha,’ that ‘Curtis’ was just fine. But that could wait until you were a little more comfortable. Once he had you home, maybe. He could already tell that picking his battles was going to be important.

“Thank you,” he said as he stood up to his full height, and you did as well. “You answered my questions so well. You gave me exactly what I needed.” He looked to Yona to see if there was anything else.

“Do you have any questions for me or Curtis?” she asked you.

You shook your head, emphatically, hunching your shoulders. The room filled with the scent of fear again.

“Okay… that’s fine,” Yona said, and he could tell how much she hated this. “Well,” she turned to Curtis, “I’ll go get the paperwork and then you two can get home. I’ll be right back,” she said to you, then left the room. 

This was happening too fast. In normal circumstances, you would have already been at the center for a few weeks, at least, with access to mental health professionals, life skill classes, and support groups. He’d be the last step before going back to the real world. You’d be ready to spend time with an alpha. Ready to work through processing positive physical attachments. Ready to learn how to share space with someone who wasn’t a threat to you. You’d be ready to slowly take steps into the world, with him there to support you.

You had backed yourself into the corner now. He could see the way every single muscle in your body was trying not to cower. You weren’t ready. You were nowhere near ready. But with all the resources for at-risk omegas pushed to their limit by this raid, what would happen to you if he didn’t take you? As insufficient as it might be, his help could be all you’d be able to get. This wasn’t how it should be, but he’d do everything he could for you.

Yona came back in and he watched her take you in, sighing at your state. He knew she was thinking the same things he was. “Ok,” she said, handing him the packet of forms to sign. “No changes since last time. You know the drill.”

He nodded as he grabbed them and sat down at the table, getting to work signing where he was supposed to. As he did, he felt your eyes on him as the scent of your apprehension filled the room.

Yona called your name. “Let’s go outside for a minute while Curtis finishes up.”

You both left quietly. This, too, was part of normal procedure. She was asking if you were sure you were comfortable leaving with him, telling you you had the option to say no, getting your verbal and written consent, and giving you cards with all the emergency numbers on them. He was afraid this situation might stretch the legal definition of informed consent. Based on everything he’d seen so far, he couldn’t picture a scenario where you’d say no. 

Nothing about this felt good, but everyone’s hands were tied. And he knew that he’d do everything he could to keep you as safe as possible.

A few minutes after he’d finished signing the last page, you and Yona came back in. A worn knapsack hung from your fingers. It was small, confirming Curtis’s suspicions that you didn’t have much in the way of clothes. Alright, that was priority number one.

Yona had a thin folder in her hand that she immediately passed to Curtis. “The regular information, along with her schedule of appointments for the next few weeks, both doctor and therapist. And the card for the agent in charge of the investigation into the compound, in case anything pertinent comes up.” Then she turned to you with a small box. “I’ve got a couple packets of suppressants for you. Do you want them or do you want Curtis to keep track of them for you?”

Your eyes cut to him suspiciously then flitted back to the floor. “Alpha,” you muttered.

“Okay,” Yona said, handing the box to Curtis as well. Then she clapped her hands together, her face set in grim determination. “I won’t keep you any longer then. I’ll see you both next week.”

On the way out of the center, Curtis was all too aware of the way you walked exactly three steps behind him, one step to the left. That wasn’t just old-fashioned, it was archaic. He’d never seen an omega do it in real life.

At his truck, you looked at the truckbed in a way that made him worried you might try to ride back there, so he opened the passenger door for you and waited for you to get in. He resisted the part of his alpha instincts that wanted to buckle you in. And after a gentle request, you did it yourself.

As the two of you hit the road, he reached over to turn the radio on. He tried to move slowly, but you still flinched. “Want some music?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t respond, so he found an oldies station and left the volume low. His plan for the day had shifted a bit. You definitely weren’t ready to go shopping. That was fine. There was nothing that couldn’t be delivered.

About five minutes into the drive, the strong scent of your tears filled the cab. He looked over at you. You were huddled against the door, as far away from him as you could get. Your face was pressed against the window, so all he could see was the back of your head. But he could hear your sniffles and he could smell your distress.

It took everything in him to not pull over right now and reach over to comfort you. Pull you into his arms. Rub soothing circles on your back. But he knew that would do more harm than good. His touch wouldn’t be welcome. Yet. You weren’t ready.

And god, he wasn’t either. He wasn’t ready for any of this. But damn it, he was going to try.

Tag List is open!

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[mysticlael]

God, y'all like these <_< >_>

Dick: *Kicks the door open, looking panicked* Bruce: What did you do? Jason: NOBODY DIED! Bruce: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!

Tim: Dear Diary, my teen angst bullshit has a body count.

Bruce: I hate to say ‘I told you so’— Jason: No, you don’t. You would marry 'I told you so’ and have a baby with it and buy adjoining burial plots.

Damian: I hate you with every inch of my body! Jason, looking down: That’s not a lot of inches.

Steph: My bad, It’s a knee jerk response. Dick, holding Tim's unconscious body: WHOSE KNEE JERK RESPONSE IS TO START THROWING BRICKS AT SOMEONE???

Robin!Tim: He called me the B-word. Jason: Motherfucker doesn’t start with ‘b’!

*after the Squad's plan goes horribly wrong* Bruce: Now it seems we're back at square one-- finding Jason. Tim: For the record, I already found him. Dick: And you let him get away before we could have a meaningful conversation! I'm telling you, just let me try- Tim: He stabbed me! Damian: I'm surprised he waited this long, Drake. We've all had the urge.

Pre-adoption Jason: I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under.

Roy: I'm so happy, I could kiss you! Jason: Um...Neat. *later* Jason, lying face down on his bed: I said "Neat," Dick. Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid. Dick, upside down on the bed: Don't beat yourself up too much, Little Wing. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Wally confessed his love for me? Jason: ...Didn't you thank them? Dick: *swings up* I fucking thanked him.

Steph: Synonyms are weird because if you invite someone to your cottage in the forest, that just sounds nice and cozy. But if I invite you to my cabin in the woods you’re going to die. Tim: My favorite is explaining the difference between a butt dial and a booty call. Bruce: It’s called connotations. Jason: Try this one on for size, “Forgive me, Father, I have sinned” vs “Sorry, Daddy, I’ve been naughty." Dick: Great news! Language is now banned!

Dick: What does “baka” mean? Tim: Moron. Steph: Idiot. Duke: Stupid. Dick: The fuck did I do?!

Bruce: In the past year you have managed to piss off the LAPD, ATF, CIA, FBI- Jason: NBA. Bruce: …? Jason: Snuck into a Cliffords game.

Tim: Oh god, he texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Dick... He's mad at you. Dick: No, it's Jay. He's just being grammatically correct! *meanwhile* Jason: And then I used a period so they'd know that I'm mad at him. Roy: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'. Jason: I stand by my choice.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug like angel incorrect quotes yet again

miguel version

honestly could also be read as non bug like angel idk

Kidnapper: We have your daughter

miguel: I don’t have a daughter?

Kidnapper: Then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off her sandwich?

miguel: Oh god, you have spider!reader

spider!reader: This is miguel, he's… not my assistant, some other word.

miguel: I’m her carer.

spider!reader: Yeah, my carer. he cares so I don’t have to.

spider!reader, trying her first ever cup of coffee: I am ENERGY!

miguel, an avid coffee drinker, on his twelfth cup of the day: Someone slap me awake or I am literally going to fall into a coma in ten seconds.

miguel: spider!reader, can you help me? All of my clothes keep disappearing for some reason.

spider!reader, wearing a hoodie that's 5 times bigger than her size: Spooky.

spider!reader, very tired: Can I sleep in your bed?

miguel: *half asleep* spider!reader, this is a queen-sized bed. That means it’s for *gestures vaguely to himself* the Queen.

spider!reader: School sucks.

miguel: I know, but you have to do it so you can get a job.

spider!reader: What are jobs like?

miguel: They suck.

spider!reader: Holy shit, miguel, do you know what this means?!

miguel: Kid, whenever you start doing this, nobody knows what you mean.

miguel: Are you ever going to listen to me?

spider!reader: Yes. Absolutely.

miguel: When?

spider!reader: When you're right.

miguel: Why are you like this??

spider!reader: I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

spider!reader: You believe me?

miguel: spider!reader, you’re the last good person on this planet. I‘d believe cartoon birds braided your hair this morning.

miguel: What are you doing here?

spider!reader: I could ask you the same question.

miguel: I live here. This is my house.

spider!reader: I should probably ask you a different question.

miguel: I'm going the fight the next person who insults spider!reader.

spider!reader: I hate myself.

miguel: Alright, square up.

spider!reader: Bitch.

miguel: Blocked.

spider!reader: Wait unblock me I need to tell you something.

miguel: Unblocked.

spider!reader: Bitch.

miguel: I can never give spider!reader shit because I’m jealous of them. They look at their life and say, “Sweet! This is perfect!”

miguel: I look at my life and say, “Welp. Time to get drunk.”

spider!reader: I want a trip down memory lane.

miguel: *proceeds to grab every warrior cats book they have and sets them in spider!reader's lap*

miguel: I heard you needed these?

spider!reader: YES! ALL OF THEM!

miguel: In the past year you have managed to piss off the LAPD, ATF, CIA, FBI-

spider!reader: NBA.

miguel: …?

spider!reader: Snuck into a Cliffords game.

spider!reader: I got grounded for a whole week just because I came home late.

miguel: Well, you deserved it. I mean, getting everyone's hopes up like that and then showing up again.

miguel: You’re alive.

spider!reader: No need to sound so disappointed.

spider!reader: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

miguel: Why are you eating dirt?

spider!reader: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

miguel: spider!reader, no.

spider!reader: spider!reader, yes.

spider!reader: Here comes the lightning!

spider!reader, whispering: You've got to imagine it coming out my fingertips, wherein I am an almighty wizard.

miguel: Ok, currently imagining that. Hmm, not bad. Not bad at all.

spider!reader: Am I in trouble?

miguel: Take a guess.

spider!reader: No? miguel:

Take another guess.

spider!reader: So what’s for dinner?

miguel: I can’t tell you, it’s a soup-prise!

spider!reader: …

spider!reader: Is it soup?

miguel: I soup-pose it could be! *winks*

spider!reader: Please, enough with the soup puns!

miguel: Wow, you’re soup-per mean.

spider!reader: STOP! *one hour later*

spider!reader: It’s fucking tacos?!?!?!

miguel: spider!reader, are you drinking… drinking hydrogen peroxide?!

spider!reader: It says H2O2! That means it’s the sequel to water!

miguel: spider!reader, I beg of you. Please, PLEASE go to the doctor.

spider!reader Hey, I'm sorry. Is this OUR stab wound?

miguel: *Turns on the kitchen light*

spider!reader: *Sitting at the table, eating bread*

miguel: It’s four in the morning.

spider!reader: Turn the light back off.

spider!reader: I’m the smartest, wisest person in this group.

miguel: Really? Then why is your hand stuck in a vending machine?

spider!reader: I paid for my Mars Bar, I’m getting my Mars Bar.

spider!reader: *is throwing stones at miguel's window*

miguel: You have a phone for a reason, spider!reader!

*THUD*

miguel: DID YOU JUST THROW YOUR PHONE AT MY WINDOW?!

miguel: *very seriously* You need to stop doing weird things to cope with the stress. Going outside might help.

spider!reader: I went to the park today.

miguel: There you go! I hope you got something from that.

spider!reader: *opening their coat* This duck.

pt 1 cause theres gonna be more i js ran out of image space

[cynicalrosebud]

Incorrect Quotes:

(Includes Y/n, shipping, and some poly!tf141)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Gaz: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time?

Y/n: AS ENEMIES?!

Gaz:

Ghost: Is there something you would like to say, Y/n?

Y/n: Oh, there are SEVERAL things I would like to say.

Y/n, to the Squad: The real secret to immortality? Not dying. You want to be immortal? Okay, that’s easy. Just don’t die. That’s it. Refuse to die. There you go.

Gaz: But how-

Y/n, ignoring him: “But how”, you may ask. Well, easy. Just don’t do it. Refuse to. Say “no thanks”.

Soap: Can we go to a haunted house?

Ghost: What’s wrong with the one we live in?

Soap: Wh-what?

Ghost: G’night Soap.

Y/n: Okay, but if you’re not gay then why are you always holding my hand and kissing me and telling me I’m your boyfriend?

Ghost: Its satire!

Y/n: THAT'S NOT WHAT SATIRE MEANS!

Soap: Compliment me.

Gaz: You have eyes.

Soap: Yeah, that works.

Ghost: Y/n, I beg of you. Please, PLEASE go to the doctor.

Y/n: Hey, I'm sorry. Is this OUR stab wound?

Soap: *makes Price a cup of tea but puts salt in it*

Price: *sips tea*

Soap:

Price: *finishes tea*

Soap: Didn't it taste bad?

Price: Yeah, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I drank it all.

Soap, tearing up: Oh, okay.

Ghost: So, what’s Y/n's type?

Soap: Brown eyes, kind, oblivious, good sense of humor, massive dick…

Ghost: Sounds kind of like me. Too bad we’re just friends.

Soap: Did I mention oblivious?

Ghost: Yeah, why?

Soap: Okay, just making sure.

Soap: Oh, fiddlesticks.

Y/n: Look, I understand this is a tense situation, but let's watch the fuckin’ language.

Gaz: In the past year you have managed to piss off the LAPD, ATF, CIA, FBI-

Soap: NBA.

Gaz: …?

Soap: Snuck into a Cliffords game.

Price: I will send my army to attack!

Price: *releases a dumpster of raccoons*

Gaz: We either die free, or die trying!

Y/n: Are those the only choices?

Y/n: Gaz isn’t answering my messages.

Soap: Allow me.

Y/n: I tried 6 times, what makes you thi-

Gaz: *replying to message* Hello.

Gaz: Hey, wanna take a shower with me?

Soap: I have a gun in that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shoot me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

[tinyshyteacup]

TW: tension, Juice is a adorable dumbass, cussing

If anyone knows the owner of gif, please let me know ? I found on google

Part 9

A Charming Detour - Part 10

The cold bite of the cuffs still lingers against your wrists as you’re shoved forward. The ATF agents are rough, barking orders, herding you and the Sons like cattle toward the waiting transport van.

Your mind is still spinning.

This can’t be happening.

The transport van smells like sweat and stale cigarette smoke. The hard metal bench is cold under you, and the cuffs dig into your skin. You feel like you can’t breathe—like the walls are pressing in, trapping you in a nightmare you never saw coming.

You’ve never even had a parking ticket, and now you’re getting thrown into a metal van with actual criminals—

Not that you think of the SAMCRO that way.

But the world does.

And right now, the world sees you as one of them.

The steel doors slam shut behind you, cutting off the flashing lights, the chaos, the noise.

And for the first time since this nightmare started—

Juice can hear your breathing before he even turns.

Fast. Unsteady.

He shifts in the dim light, wrists flexing against the cuffs behind his back as he turns to face you.

“Hey,” he says quickly, voice low. “You good?”

You don’t answer right away.

You’re staring at the floor, the reality of everything crashing into you. The rest of the guys—Jax, Tig, Chibs, even Clay—are already settling into their usual routine, shifting their shoulders, cracking their necks, getting comfortable. Because this isn’t new to them.

Juice's kutte still hangs on your shoulders like a brand.

Juice hates himself for that.

For dragging you into this.

For not thinking.

He shifts closer, even though there’s not much space. “Hey.” His voice is gentler now. “Look at me.”

Slowly, you do.

Your eyes are wide, filled with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

“We didn’t do anything.” you whisper, voice wavering.

Juice knows that. But that doesn’t matter to ATF.

And that kills him.

“Yeah,” he mutters, swallowing hard. “I know.”

Chibs, sitting across from you, huffs through his nose. “Aye, lass, just keep your head down. Don’t give ‘em a reason to make this worse.”

Tig, sitting next to you, nudges your knee with his. “Yeah, don’t worry, doll. This ain’t our first rodeo.”

That doesn’t help.

Not really.

Because this is your first rodeo.

And you didn’t sign up for it.

Juice sees that in your expression, in the way you shrink back slightly, fingers curling into the back hem of his kutte like it’s the only thing grounding you.

He hates this.

He hates them.

And most of all—Juice hates that he couldn’t protect you from it.

You’re still staring at the floor, when the transport van lurches and then starts rolling.

With an expression like if you don’t make a sound, maybe this will all go away.

And Juice?

Juice feels like he’s gonna be sick.

“Christ,” Chibs mutters, taking one look at you before shooting Juice a pointed glare. “She’s white as a feckin’ ghost.”

“She’s never been in shit like this,” Juice says, his voice tight.

You don’t know how this works.

You don’t know that ATF will pull their same old bullshit, try to scare you, try to turn you against SAMCRO. You don’t know that this is just Tuesday for these guys.

And that fucking kills Juice.

Because you don’t deserve this.

So he does the only thing he can.

He shifts just slightly, letting his shoulder brush against yours, a tiny point of warmth in the freezing metal box. It’s barely anything, but you lean into it—just a little. And Juice exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the second they dragged you outside.

“You’re alright,” he mutters, just for you. “I promise.”

Tig, ever the chaos-bringer, leans in, grinning despite the situation. “Hey, least you didn’t get the zip ties, doll. Those suck.”

It’s stupid, but it breaks something in the tension—just enough that you let out a small, breathless huff of laughter.

And Juice?

Juice wants to kiss Tig for that one

It’s not long before the van stops, the doors swing open, and Agent June Stahl is right there.

She’s got that smug, condescending look on her face—the one that says she’s already three steps ahead of whatever SAMCRO thinks they’re doing.

But when she steps forward, her eyes land on you.

And Juice sees it.

The pause.

The little flicker of realization.

And the moment she speaks—Juice feels his stomach drop.

“Well, well, well,” she purrs, tapping her fingers against the doorframe. “You’re a new face.”

You hesitate. Juice feels it—the way your shoulder stiffens against his, the way your fingers flex in the cuffs behind your back.

“She’s no one,” Juice snaps, but Stahl barely acknowledges him.

She’s still looking at you.

And then she hears it—the way a few of your words sound, your voice tinged with the unmistakable lilt of a foreign accent.

Stahl’s smile widens.

“Oh,” she hums, tilting her head. “What do we have here?”

You glance at Juice, confused.

She takes a slow, deliberate step closer. “That’s an accent.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

Juice’s jaw tightens.

Chibs’ entire expression shifts.

Tig mutters a quiet, “Shit.”

You blink. “I—I guess?”

“I said she’s no one,” Juice growls.

Her smirk deepens as she looks at him. “Aw. That’s adorable.”

Juice fucking hates how pleased she sounds.

She straightens, her gaze snapping to her agents. “Pull her first.”

“No.”Juice says it before he can stop himself.

Sharp. Immediate, making your eyes snap to him.

Stahl follows your gaze. Sees the way Juice is watching you.

And smiles.

“Ohhh,” she purrs, straightening up. “I see.”

Stahl loves that.

Juice glares.

He knows what she’s doing, and he hates the ways she's looking at you.

Like she just found her new favorite game piece.

The room is cold,too bright, too sterile.

You sit in a metal chair bolted to the floor, your wrists still aching from the cuffs they’d taken off only after shoving you in here. The table between you and Agent Stahl is scratched, the kind of surface worn down by too many interrogations.

But you’ve never been in a room like this before.

Never sat under a light so harsh.

Never had someone like her staring at you like you’re a puzzle she can take apart.

Stahl leans forward, her smile all polite interest, but her eyes are sharp—calculating. She knows she’s in control.

And she’s enjoying it.

“So,” she hums, flipping through a file. “I could make all of this go away.”

You shift in your chair. “I—what do you mean?”

She leans back, crossing one leg over the other. “You help me out, and I help you.” She spreads her hands. “That’s how this works.”

“Help you—with what ?”

Her smile turns sharp. “Tell me about the club.”

You blink. “They ride motorcycles, Happy hates pizza ... Gemma makes good meatloaf.” You answer hesitantly but honestly.

Stahl laughs, shaking her head. “Come on. You expect me to believe that? You’re wrapped up in Ortiz’s kutte, hanging around the clubhouse—don’t insult me.”

Your stomach knots.

“I—I don’t.” You shake your head, frustrated. “ Look lady, don’t even know what you’re asking for”

Stahl leans forward again, voice turning syrupy sweet. “You know what a ‘rat’ is?”

You hesitate. “…Is that like a narc?”

Her smile falters for half a second—then she grins.

“Oh, this is rich,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “You’re that stupid”

You bristle, suddenly feeling small under her scrutiny.

“I don’t know anything,” you repeat, a little firmer this time.

Stahl leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, voice dropping into something low and deliberate.

“You’re not a citizen,” she said. “You don’t have any real rights here.”

Your breath hitched.

“You’re a guest,” Stahl continued, watching you. “And the thing about guests? They can be asked to leave.”

Your heart pounded.

“…I—I don’t—”

“All I need,” Stahl said, cutting you off, “is one reason. One good reason.”

She let the words linger, giving you just enough time to feel the full weight of them.

Then she shrugged, casual.

“You help me, you stay.” She smiled, all teeth. “You don’t? I put you on a plane back to New Zealand.”

Your stomach dropped.

New Zealand.

Back—there.

You shook your head frantically. “No—I—I can’t—I don’t want to—”

Stahl leaned in, smirk vicious.

Something cold slithers down your spine.

"I can have you deported.”

The implication sinks in.

And you feel sick.

Juice hated holding cells. They smelled like piss and sweat, the air was thick with the stench of old fear and fresh resentment. But usually, he could deal.

Usually, he had the guys with him.

Usually, he knew how this played out.

But this time?

This time was different.

Because you were there—held in one too, or worse they where already talking to you, the second he stepped into that cell, the bars clanking shut behind him, something in Juice’s chest tightened—something cold and twisting, like a wire wrapping around his ribs and pulling tight.

Because he’d seen Stahl’s face.

And he knew what Stahl was gonna try.

And that terrifies him.

Because you don’t know.

You don’t understand the rules of this world.

And Stahl? She’s a predator.

She eats people like you for breakfast.

Juice’s fingers twitch.

“Alright,” Tig drawled, cracking his neck like this was just another night. “Who wants to take bets on how long before Stahl comes sniffing back around?”

Juice was pacing—back and forth, back and forth, over and over, his boots scuffing against the floor.

“Christ, sit down,” Chibs muttered.

“I can’t,” Juice snapped.

And he couldn’t.

Because every second he spent in this fucking cage was a second Stahl was talking to you, was pressuring you, was feeding you bullshit.

And the worst part?

You didn’t know any better.

You didn’t know how to play the game.

Didn’t know not to trust the badge, didn’t know that Stahl wasn’t looking for justice—she was looking for a win.

Later when Tig is being dragged back to the holding cell when Juice hears his voice.

“That’s some bullshit,” Tig mutters, arms crossed as he glares at the ATF agents outside their cell. “She ain’t even done shit.”

Juice’s heart hammers.

“Who?” he asks sharply.

Tig’s gaze flicks to him. “Who the fuck do you think?”

“They'll threaten her immigration status, lad" Chibs mutters darkly. “Try’ to get her to turn.”

Juice’s blood turns to ice.

Juice had always been shit under pressure.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t lie—it was just that his brain ran too fast, his mouth ran even faster, and before he could stop himself, he’d fucked up once or twice.

But this?

This was a whole new level of fucking up.

Because one second, Stahl was standing across from him, her eyes sharp and calculating, and the next—

“I knew there was something about that girl,” she mused, flipping through a file like it held the keys to his goddamn soul.

“You look nervous, Ortiz,”

Juice didn’t say shit.

“Your club’s used to this routine,” she continued, her voice slow and mocking.

“Booked, processed, lawyered up within a few hours—Clay’s probably already got someone on the way. But her?” Stahl’s lips curved. “She’s never been through this before.”

Juice’s stomach dropped.

“Poor thing looked terrified,” Stahl mused. “Didn’t even know why she was being arrested. Just a bystander, caught up in all this big, bad outlaw business.” She leaned forward, her eyes glinting.

"Now, I wonder, Juan Carlos—how does a nice little girl like that end up with a guy like you?”

Juice’s jaw locked.

“You talk to her?” he asked, voice tight.

“Oh, we had a chat.” Stahl tilted her head. “She’s sweet. A little naïve, but I suppose that’s the appeal, huh?” She exhaled sharply, flipping a page in the file.

“Sweet little thing,” she went on, like she was talking about a fucking puppy. “Bit of an accent. Real polite. She’s not from here, is she?”

Juice clenched his jaw. “Don’t—”

“I mean, I could check—” Stahl tapped the file. “She’s in the system now. Immigration would have a field day with this.”

Juice’s pulse spiked.

And before he could stop himself, before his brain even had a chance to catch up, the words just—

“You can’t deport her,” he blurted out.

Stahl paused.

Then—slowly, dangerously—she smiled.

“And why is that?”

Juice scrambled, his stomach twisting

Shit.

SHIT.

“She—she’s my fiancée,” he said, the lie slipping out before he could catch it.

[watarfallar]

Incorrect quotes because school is kicking my ass

Scar: Hey, wanna hear a funny joke? Grian: I only like dark humor. Scar, turning the lights off: What do you call a fake noodle? Grian: Scar: An IMPASTA!

Scar: plays shreksophone Scar: Woo. Scar: Time to listen to this on loop for all eternity. Grian: …Genius coping mechanism my friend

Grian: I’m so tired. Scar: Did you get to bed late? Grian: No. Scar: Did you do something strenuous? Grian: No. Scar: Then why are you tired? Grian: I’m alive. Scar: Sounds exhausting.

Scar: I’m taking a look at your numbers, and it doesn’t look good. You have a lot of measurements. Quite a few variables. Grian: Is that… bad? Scar: Variables are the #1 risk factor for outcomes. The past is a big contributor to the future. Grian: Isn’t that just causality? Scar: Causality is the leading cause of death in this country. Grian: So what are my odds? Scar: Do you have a family history? Grian: Of what? Scar: Just, in general. Grian: …Yes? Scar: Oh no.

Kidnapper: I have one of your friends. Scar: Which one? I have seven. Kidnapper: The loud, annoying, rowdy one who never shuts up. Scar: Which one? I have seven. Grian, distantly: HEY!!!

Scar: Don’t be sad! Grian: Why not? Scar: Scar: I don’t have a good answer.

Grian: Silence is golden. Scar: Duct tape is silver.

Grian: Are you okay? Scar, crying: Yeah, it was just the onions. Grian: Picks up an onion What the fuck did you say to Scar?

Scar: I assume you realize that this kind of idiocy will not be tolerated in this house. Grian: Is there any kind of idiocy you would be more comfortable with?

Scar: You’re not gonna shoot a puppy, are you Grian!? Grian: Yeah, in the face, why?

Grian: Happy October 32nd! Second Halloween! Scar: That doesn't exist. Grian: Not with that attitude.

Scar: In the past year you have managed to piss off the LAPD, ATF, CIA, FBI- Grian: NBA. Scar: …? Grian: Snuck into a Cliffords game.

Scar: There's something I have to ask about you-know-who. Grian: Voldemort? Scar: No. Grian: Is it Voldemort? Scar: It's not Voldemort. Grian: You haven’t mentioned wizards once this conversation, so I’m gonna have to assume it’s Voldemort.

Scar: Who's in charge here? Grian, shrugging: Usually whoever yells the loudest.

Grian, talking to Scar: With all due respect, which is none…

Scar: Hey do you wanna hang out this weekend? Grian: Generic excuse. Scar: I can’t believe you said that out loud, to my face. Grian: I can.

Scar, on the phone: Where are you? Grian: I told you, I’m at work Scar: Swear you’re not at Chuck E Cheese again? skee ball machine alarm goes off in the background

Scar: When we get back, I'm going to step on you! Grian: Okay, as much as I might enjoy that, Scar–

Grian: If we lose, you’re out of the will. Scar: I was in the will?

Scar: What do you want to be for Halloween? Grian: Yours. Scar: Scar: …yeah, that would be pretty scary.

Grian: Talk dirty to me, baby~ Scar: The dishes. Grian: Wh- Scar: They’ve been there for 4 days and it’s your turn to wash them. You still haven’t cleaned them and I have asked you to do so several times.

Grian: I'm trash. Scar: As someone who's environmentally conscious, it's my duty to pick you up. Does 7 work for you? Grian: Grian: You smooth motherfucker. Grian: And yes it does.

Scar: I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Grian: Damn, that sounds like a marriage proposal. Scar, getting down on one knee: That's 'cause it is.

Grian: Do you have a superpower? Scar: Yep! It’s hindsight. Grian: …that’s not going to help us. Scar: Yes, I see that now.

Scar: Why are you drinking? Grian: I drink when I'm depressed. Scar: But you're always drinking? Grian: smug grin

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

OIGs, Watchdogs, and Oversight

So some history first: OIG is the Office of Inspector General. There are 72 OIGs in the US federal government, of which about 25 have statutory law enforcement authority. The IGs were created in the aftermath of Watergate by the Inspector General Act of 1978. The act established 12 IGs in the executive branch, giving them statutory mandates to provide oversight of their parent agencies through audits and investigations, and the number of OIGs has grown since. (I work for one of the 25 OIGs with law enforcement authority; it is not DOD.)

The OIGs are separate from GAO, the Government Accountability Office. OIG are independent nonpartisan agencies within the executive branch and each OIG provides oversight to one specific agency, called their parent agency - for example, the Department of Justice OIG provides oversight only on the DOJ and DOJ agencies like FBI, ATF, and DEA; they will not provide oversight on Department of State. The GAO is in the legislative branch, answering to Congress. They conduct similar work to the OIGs, but unlike OIGs who give oversight to one agency/department each, GAO provides oversight of the entire executive branch; for example, they’ll look at a program in DOJ for one case, and look at a State program in the next. Also, the GAO is not in charge of all the OIGs (a common mistake).

So when you hear or read in the news something like "(agency) watchdog" (i.e. "DOJ watchdog" or "State watchdog"), they're talking about the specific OIG. If you hear/see/read "government watchdog," they're usually talking about GAO.

OIGs are headed by an Inspector General, a PAS - president appointed, Senate confirmed. Unlike all the other political appointees in the executive branch, IGs do not have to resign at the end of a president's term. Because we're independent watchdogs and nonpartisan, the IG is meant to stay across presidential terms so previous to the current president, it was rare for sitting presidents to fire the IGs like he did.

(Quick aside: Just because the IGs are gone doesn't mean the work stops. We just don't have someone who directly answers to the president the way a political appointee does because the First Assistant, who steps in to perform the duties of the agency head when there isn’t one, in accordance with the Federal Vacancies Reform Act, is a career civil servant.)

What does an OIG or watchdog do?

Our statutory mission is to a) detect, prevent, and deter fraud, waste, and abuse in agency programs, operations, activities, and personnel and b) promote effectiveness and efficiency of the agency's programs, operations, activities, and personnel.

There are three ways we do this: audits, inspections and evaluations, and investigations. Boiling it all down to the very general essence:

Audits look at finances and documentation - they are determining "where/how can we save money and minimize waste."

Inspections and evaluations look at management issues (aka compliance and quality assurance) - they are determining "did you follow the rules/laws/processes? are you managing your resources effectively?"

Investigations look at people's behavior - they are determining "did you break the law? did you abuse your position in the government for personal gain?"

Sometimes everyone works together on a case, but it depends on on the type of case. Most of the time we stay in our own lanes. (And there's also a lot of lawyers. They're their own brand of evil.)

How do the watchdogs know what to investigate?

Most watchdogs rely on tips and complaints to initiate casework. They usually come from one of these four groups:

The public and whistleblowers via the hotline

Members of Congress who write inquiry letters and requests

Our own work (for instance, an auditor reviewing a contract audit for an agency's IaaS cloud platform finds that the contracting officer is taking kickbacks from Amazon that led to them choosing Amazon for their cloud provider, so the auditor makes a referral to the investigation office, who'll open a case).

Other OIGs (think of it like when Gibbs/NCIS has to work with Fornell/FBI, Grissom/Vegas CSI, and McNulty/Baltimore PD).

I'm not certain that we initiate cases based on news coverage. Other OIGs might, but I'm not aware that mine has - usually if something massive is in the news, like the Signal chat, a congressional inquiry is almost always guaranteed and the OIG won't officially initiate a case until they receive the congressional request but unofficially they’re reassigning work, freeing up resources, moving priorities, etc. to work on that case

I do know that the flip has occurred for us before; we get a whistleblower complaint, it's assessed a Level 3 case (low priority), but then the whistleblower goes public or something happens that captures media attention, and the IG will reassess the priority to Level 1 (high) and open a case.

I suspect this is what happened with Sentebale and the Charity Commission - Dr. Chandauka lodged a whistleblower complaint, Charity Commission ranked it low, then Harry went on his media tour with his resignation, so Dr. Chandauka responded in kind, and that escalated the whistleblower complaint to a higher priority so now the Charity Commission not only is definitely investigating, they've probably cleared the deck to start their investigation ASAP.

How long does it take to audit/investigate/inspect a case?

A LOT of time. We're talking months here, if not at least a year, even for expedited high-priority cases. There are witness to interview, documents to dig up, reports to verify, statements (both witnesses and financial) to validate.

My agency recently completed a fast-tracked case with significant congressional interest (which is considered an expedited case) and that took us 14 months to complete, from the date we got the congressional request to the date our report was published. And believe me, this was really fast-tracked because Congress was really pissed off.

For Sentebale's investigation, it really could take that long and we can look at past precedent:

The Royal Foundation/SussexRoyal Charity Commission investigation - the complaint was made in July 2020 and the investigation wrapped/results announced in May 2021 (10 months).

The BP bullying investigation - the case was opened in March 2021 and the investigation completed/report issued in June 2022 (15 months).

I think we'll see the Sentebale investigation take as long, if not longer, since it sounds like they're investigating many years of activities. That's a lot of people to talk to, a lot of reports to read, a lot of finances to analyze, and I'm sure a lot of traveling too, between all the different parties and locations. I'd be surprised if we heard something before the 6-8 month mark. And if we did hear something before the 6-8 month mark, then I'd assume the commission is really fast-tracking because of pressure from Harry and/or Charles. (Personally I can't see Charles getting involved because Sentebale had always been Harry's own thing, but if there's anything we've learned during the Sussex Saga, it's that logic doesn't matter.)

What directs the casework?

Community best practices and federal regulations.

Auditors use GAGAS, Generally Accepted Government Auditing Standards, aka the Yellow Book, which is maintained by GAO.

Inspectors use the Blue Book, a quality standards guide published by our oversight board and developed using industry best practices.

Investigators (also called 1811s if they have law enforcement authority) will use criminal justice laws and regulations, as well as industry best practices and quality standards guides.

Auditors also undergo a peer review annually, which is the OIG community's way of holding each other accountable, ensuring integrity, and protecting the public trust in our work. Also, a lot of auditors will have backgrounds in accounting and may even be certified accountants as well.

Every agency prioritizes their complaints or casework differently but generally:

Higher priority cases are usually things that have significant harm (like multiple agencies are affected or millions of dollars lost) that would likely affect public trust in government services or align the closest with the presidential administration's goals.

Lower priority cases are usually things with smaller impact, like thousands of dollars or personnel disputes.

(Again, that is really generalized.)

I don't know what standards or guides the Charity Commission uses for their work; it didn't come up in a basic search of their website.

What happens when the audit/inspection/investigation is done?

For audits and inspections and evaluations, the work ends with a report. The reports summarize the case, the findings, and the OIG or watchdog will make recommendations on how the agency can avoid this from happening again.

For OIGs, the parent agency has the opportunity to respond to an OIG case findings. They can either agree with the findings or recommendations, at which point they'll usually implement them into practice, or they can disagree with the finding/recommendation. I'm not actually sure what happens when they disagree, like if there's further casework, but I do know there's no consequence or penalty to not accepting the recommendations. I know my OIG will usually make a note of what they disagree with it and it can become something that we ding them on in future cases as a systemic issue.

Once the parent agency has responded to the report findings, then the report gets finalized, published, and issued. We send our reports to our agency's congressional committee, to our oversight board (which is called the Council of Inspectors General for Integrity and Efficiency, CIGIE), and to our website. Like I said in the other post, we're required to publish our casework except when details are classified, it involves PII, or it involves security. If the findings have significant adverse widespread government impact or there's significant media interest, then most likely there will be a congressional hearing about the work. Like I'm pretty certain that the Signal investigation (which was announced yesterday) will result in a congressional hearing.

For investigations, the work almost always ends up in court. Investigators and the lawyers will work closely with the Department of Justice on both criminal and civil charges. These cases also take a long time, mostly because OIGs will track the court cases through judgment before marking them as complete.

All of the reports and press releases for the OIGs' work are published and publicly available on their websites. This information is not secret. Most of it is not privileged. It's all laid out; what the tip was, what we did, what we found, what the agency should have done.

Now specific to the OIG community, we're also statutorily mandated to report to Congress twice a year on our work. These are called the Semiannual Reports to the Congress (or SARs). The SARs cover time periods of October 1 - March 31 and April 1 - September 30. The SARs also get published and are publicly available on all the websites. (The March 31st reports will start going up on OIG websites mid-Mayish so if this is something you're interested in, definitely start checking the websites then.)

Where the UK Charity Commission may be different is they don't consider themselves a watchdog in the sense like an OIG does. They are more of a regulatory agency, which to me means they make sure "are you following the laws," not necessarily "are you working efficiently and effectively." Additionally, I'm not sure if they have mandatory reporting requirements for their casework. They might just simply issue press releases to the public and keep reports internally confidential. I just don't know and I didn't see anything on their website.

What are recommendations and findings?

Findings are discoveries that were made during the course of the investigation, audit, inspection/evaluation, i.e. everything we've learned about the program, the project, the work, etc. that has an impact on the results of the case and contributes to a recommendation.

A recommendation is just that - a recommendation from the OIG on what the individual could do better next time or how to avoid getting stuck in this issue again. A recommendation can be anything from "you should remove this person" (but we can't actually terminate a federal employee, we can only advise it) to "get more training" to "don't do that again." But the thing is, a recommendation isn't punitive; it's only advisory. Meaning if the agency doesn't adopt it, there isn't much we can do. That's where the congressional oversight becomes important, because they can create laws that force changes, if the issue is severe enough.

And also if the issue is severe enough, it can be referred for civil or criminal prosecution, which means DOJ gets involved. That's usually the only way we can hold an agency or a federal worker accountable, if their actions are egregious enough that they could be fined, sued, arrested, etc. Sometimes they are. Sometimes they aren't.

The caveat to this is "it also depends" - for example, the OIGs that have oversight on contracts and contractors like GSA, Labor, and SBA can actually debar contractors, which makes them ineligible to compete for or receive government contracts. OIGs over Social Security, HHS, and the VA can terminate someone's government benefits sometimes, depending on their authority and the case/issue being investigated.

Hopefully this changes under the current administration with their focus on improving efficiency and preventing fraud, waste, and abuse - there's a tiny smidgen of hope that we might actually get more enforcement powers, but we'll see.

And this is different from the Charity Commission, which seems like they do have enforcement powers, like we saw in the case of the Captain Tom charity, where they banned his daughter/charity CEO from future positions in charity.

I think that's it...I'm probably forgetting a lot of stuff but that's the general overview of how oversight, watchdogs, and Inspectors General work. Feel free to send in questions if you've got them!

[alltimefail-sims]

📩 Simblr question of the day: Would you prefer more realism in the game, like funerals? @simblr-question-of-the-day

Given what you've said in the past about realism, I think I know you're answer to this one, but I'd love to hear what sort of thing you'd like!

I actually always struggle with this question a bit because while I do like realism, I don't always like the unnecessary complexities that can come with implementing that. For example, I don't need like...banking, real-estate, or healthcare systems that are extremely specific and challenging to navigate in the way they are in the real world: I've tried out some fantastic, well-executed mods that simulate these concepts proficiently and I personally found them to be a little overwhelming in the grand scheme of things. Some things are better as a rabbithole/bare-bones concept than a fully-fledged-out feature. Time already moves quickly in the sims, so some aspects of "realism" just don't translate well, unless you're adjusting in-game time and all that with mods... and non-PC simmers can't fully do that, so I think implementing these features would be more of a hinderance to the average player's overall gaming experience.

Most of the time I'm personally complaining about realism, it's regarding occults or lore...which is truthfully rather ironic considering that vampires and werewolves do not exist. However, if they did, I don't imagine everyone would be super quick to just embrace them and live amongst them - some people, like Celene for example, would be knowledgable about occults and maybe even live among them... but some people definitely would NOT (imagine Nancy Langraab finding out there are werewolves... her snooty sensibilities would not make her too keen about them, in my opinion).

That being said, I like a good balance of fun and realism, and I think the game tends to manage that pretty well. Some of the non-realism things are just personal preference, and I am comfortable electing to ignore those things and play a little pretend. But overall I love the idea of realistic, playable features that are experience-driven such as funerals (a cemetery lot type to go along with this would be aces). Occasional medical emergencies would be nice beyond just "Uh-oh randomly have stripes I need medicine." I think they should bring back robbers and bring back more "consequences" like when a teen would run away or sneak out and possibly be arrested in the Sims 2, or the ability to lose aspiration points/cause your sims distress if you do things they don't want to do or you don't make steady progress in their lifetime wants and aspirations (I remember the social bunny from TS2 fondly haha). Life isn't all sunshine and roses, and I'd like the game to reflect that beyond an occasional housefire and accompanying incompetent fireman to dilly-dally about uselessly while the kitchen is destroyed 🙄.

I'd also like if they would build upon fears a little better and maybe even add in some universal mental health struggles along the way (we have the emotions system so the foundation is really already there). More hobbies, more variety of jobs (our current selection is kind of abysmal imo, and adding one job per new pack is not cutting it - I don't need every career to be active careers, in fact I am fine with more rabbithole jobs than active jobs). We need more personality traits, more things for our sims to experience (a place they could go to get a "haircut" and receive a moodlet, or a tattoo parlor would be cool, bands, public transit and cars between locations - even if that is just a rabbithole and loading screen that is more experiential and realistically immersive than sims walking off lot when they're going from Newcrest to Tartosa lmao). I simply want more "milestone-esque" stuff in general that simulates the living human experience, but I don't need it to be overly convoluted (and I wouldn't trust the sims team to perfectly execute every facet of real life anyway, so I'm okay with a little whimsy so long as it doesn't break the immersion).

[rottingbite]

Cinderella History: The Saints In Hell Edition.

Saints In Hell was the band where Keifer and Brittingham briefly worked together after The Priscilla Harriet Band. It also influenced both of them, as they considered naming their next band Creepshow while keeping the fire-breathing theatrics. So yeah, in an alternate dimension, Cinderella never existed, but Creepshow did—and Tom Keifer eats raw meat on stage, spits blood, and breathes fire.

But that's a story for another day.

Saints In Hell, however, became notorious for an accident that occurred on December 7, 1981. While playing at a club in Pennsauken, N.J., called Menagerie, a pyrotechnic device malfunctioned, exploded, and sent 37 people to the hospital—including Keifer and Brittingham. The accident made it into local newspapers like The Courier-Post and The Philadelphia Bulletin, as well as some news broadcasts. The explosion was so big that it triggered an investigation by state police and the ATF.

Rumor has it that as a result of the incident, Eric ended up with a scar on one of his legs.

If you would like to know more let me know, I can answer (almost) all your Cinderella questions.

@xo-myloves @w-il-rock

[mimikyu-oli]

Hi, if it doesn't bother you, could you explain to me about this Lonely Freddy AU? I also have a question Alec is a ghost or lonely Freddy?

OH MY FUDGE!!!

YES!

Of course!

Uhm…

These are pretty much notes. 😅

I’ll show you a part of it that can explain (hopefully) the whole thing.

{Hazel's centric

25 Young teacher

Live alone in her apartment.

Alec 15 "Dead" (He's a ghost/spirit.)

"Alec" 30 Lawyer

Father of a 3-year-old boy.

[Alec haunts his little sister after looking for her for a time. (Weeks or months. He found her near the Freddy that started everything. He had waited there in hope to see her pass by.)

All the possessed Lonely Freddy in the dumpster has been thrown in a compactor and then an incinerator.

Those who haven't move on have gone to look for their family or stayed in the vicinity of the place to cry or comfort/take care of the youngest ones.

One thinks they're all dead.]}

—-

Alec here is more like a soul.

He’s not exactly « dead » but his vessel did « die ».

I ‘m still thinking if I let him get his body back. 🤔

Well, I did wrote a bit of a scene about that in my notes.

You can see him as a ghost if you want.

But the Lonely Freddy he inhabited is gone.

[bullet-prooflove]

ATF!Series Part Three: Hell or Highwater

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hatersaremymotivators benny kkkelpies-shed

ATF Series:

Part One: A Rabbit You Don't Want To Chase - Stahl makes an unwelcome return to David's life.

Part Two: Fucked - Stahl fucks up you entire life in pursuit of Jax Teller.

You’ve been in a custody for five hours by the time David’s finally allowed to see you. Four hours of that has consisted of you sitting silently in an interrogation room listening to Stahl tell you how fucked you are.

And yea, she’s right, you are pretty fucked.

Your entire life it’s crumbling down around you and all you can feel is this crushing, desolate numbness because those hopes you had, those dreams they’re gone. Every single one of them.

You think about that as you lie on a musty mattress in a chilly cell. You think about what Jax Teller has done to you, what he continues to do to you. He has no direct involvement with you but the ripples of that time you spent together still resonate through your life.

This is what David means when he talks about Jax's blast radius.

Jax Teller is a nuclear bomb, his toxicity seeping into everything he touches. His poison, it salts the earth leaving no space for anything else to grow and you, you  just have to sit here and absorb the damage.

“The light giving you a headache?” David asks as he leans in the doorway of the cell block. It’s Tuesday evening and you’re the only one in attendance, your arm is draped over your eyes trying to ward off the glow from the fluorescent. You have that metallic taste on your tongue. The one that usually comes just as the migraine starts to set in.

You don’t answer him, you can’t because the moment you do David will know exactly how broken you are right now you can’t stand the idea of anyone seeing that.

The light clicks off and you swallow past the well of emotion that’s building in your chest because David, he always knows exactly what you need. You hear his footsteps, the squeak of his boots as he comes to linger outside your cell. You hear his sigh before he sits down on the floor, his back against the cinderblocks. His elbows come to rest on his knees as his head tips back and his eyes close.

You’re in for the night and so is he.

The distance it seems to stretch between you, he feels the weight of it in the air as he plays through the past couple of hours in his head. The phone calls he’s made to the San Franisco Art Institute trying to undo all the nasty shit that Stahl has done to you. He’d begged for them to change their minds but that placement is gone, they don’t want a criminal influencing the other students. He’d slammed down the phone so hard, the plastic had cracked on the receiver.

“She told me you fucked her today.” You say quietly and his blood runs cold because it isn’t enough that Stahl has taken away your prospects, she has to try and take him too. “That you came inside her, it seemed important to her that I know that.”

He understands the significance. For Stahl their relationship was about power, about proving she had it and he didn’t. It drove her absolutely crazy that he wouldn’t give her that, that everytime she begged or demanded, he would pull out. It was a sign to her that she couldn’t control him, not completely.

“You’re the only woman who gets to have that.” He tells you, his gaze meeting yours as you shift up into a sitting  position. “The only one that gets to have every part of me.”

You draw your knees up to your chest, tucking the blanket over your legs because it get a little cold in here at night. He makes note to get you an extra blanket because the temperature is only going to keep dropping.

“David, we should talk about what happens when I go to jail.” You say softly. “You need to get clear of this…”

“You won’t see jail time.” He tells you and there’s such surety in his voice that you can’t help but believe him. “You’ll be bailed tomorrow, made to pay a fine, they’re going to seek restitution for the property damage. We’ll be paying it off for the next couple of years.”

We…

Because the two of you, you’re in this together come hell or highwater.

“David…” You whisper because you know exactly what he’s done while you’ve been trapped with Stahl.

All the favours he’s collected over the years, all that good will. He’s used it all up on you, on managing this crisis. You know what this is going to do to him, his dreams of being Chief, they’re over. His affiliation with you has seen to that.

“You’ll be his downfall.” Jacob Hale had warned you when he’d heard about you and David. “You’ll ruin everything he’s worked for.”  

This is it right here, the moment he was talking about. Fuck it eats you up inside, knowing you’re dragging David down with you.

“You think this is a sacrifice for me but it isn’t.” He says as he raises to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in his bones as he comes to stand before the bars, his hands gripping them. “Unser was never going to step down and I don’t see the point of having all this power if I can’t use it to do the right thing.”

You mirror his movements, your fingers coming to rest in the indentations between his knuckles as you press your head against the cool bars.

“You didn’t ask for any of this,” He reminds you quietly, his blue eyes meeting yours. “We just fucked the wrong people and now we’re getting fucked but at least we’re in it together. They don’t get to have this, they don’t get to take you away from me.”

“No.” You whisper, a sad smile crossing your features because even though you’ve both lost so much, you’ll always have each other.  “They won’t ever have this.”

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[chiefdirector]

Skiving | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act Two| Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32

“And you’re sure that’s how they’re connected?” (Y/N) questioned as Talia finished recalling the intel she had spent the early hours of the morning gathering. 

“Since when have I been wrong?” Talia rebutted, slight humour lacing her tone. 

(Y/N) smiled. “Fair enough. But I don’t know how the ATFE operates. You could have lost all your standards for all I know.”

Talia went to speak but was cut off by Kojo’s excited barking as he barrelled himself towards the front door. The two women shot each other confused looks, only for them to be dropped as Tim’s voice rang out from down the corridor. 

“(Y/N)? Are you still here?” He said, making his way into the house, Kojo was practically bouncing at his feet. “I saw your car outside.”

“Through here,” (Y/N) called back, moving to great him halfway. “What are you doing at home? You didn’t get fired, did you?”

Tim laughed as he shook his head, leaning down to kiss his wife. He only managed a split second of affection before Talia coughed, announcing her presence.  

“Bishop? What are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same, Bradford.” She rebutted, crowing her arms. 

“It’s my house.”

“Doesn’t answer my question.” Talia moved past the couple, reaching down to five Kojo a quick pet as she headed towards the door, stopping before she crossed the threshold . “I’ll let you know if I found out anything else. It was good to see you again.”

(Y/N) returned the sentiment as Bishop saw herself out, her attention only flickering back to her husband once the door shut. “She had some information on why Regina Diaz did what she did. Angela asked her to look into it. But you never did answer my question… why are you here?”

“I spoke to Grey and Caradine. We both got the rest of the day off. So after your appointment, I’m taking you out. Speaking of which… aren’t you meant to leave soon?”

(Y/N)’s eyes flickered across to the clock on the wall. “Crap- yeah like ten minutes ago. I can meet you back here?”

“No need. I’ll drive you.” Tim held up his keys, gesturing for (Y/N) to lead the way to his truck. 

————

Tim jolted awake as he heard the passenger side door slam shut. Instinctually he reached for his duty belt, only to find himself in his civilian gear. As he did so, he whipped his head to the side, looking for any sign of activity, only to find (Y/N) looking at him somewhat sheepishly. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, belting herself up. 

“Don’t worry about it. I should get used to it. You have less grace than an elephant.”

(Y/N) let out a noise of indignation as Tim chuckled, slotting his keys back into the ignition. 

“I’m going to ignore that.” She said, looking at the window as Tim pulled out of the parking lot. “Where are you taking us?”

“Depends.”

“…On what?”

“On how romantic you feel right now.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow as Tim spoke, keeping silent as she tried to figure out where exactly he was taking her. It only dawned on her when she saw his familiar smirk as he turned the truck into a familiar road. 

You know, the shooting range is not quite what I think of when you say ‘romantic.’” She said getting out of the now parked truck, meeting him in front of the vehicle. 

“Hey, I think this is very romantic.” Tim defended, holding (Y/N)’s hand as they walked down the dreary corridor, company assigned equipment in hand. She tried not to pay attention to the flickering lights but the compulsion to comment took over. 

Reaching the end of the corridor, he opened the door open to allow (Y/N) to enter the shooting room. “We had our first date here after all.”

“I remember. I was so flustered I could barely shoot straight.”

“No,” Tim laughed, heading into his assigned area loading his off duty weapon the second he stopped moving. “You just have a crap aim.”

“I do not!” She defended, reaching into her own boot to retrieve her own weapon. 

Tim smirked, relishing in the knowledge that his teasing tactics still worked. “Wanna bet? 20 bucks says I shoot better than you.”

(Y/N) raised her weapon, aiming it at the paper target before her. Carefully, she held her sim, pulling the trigger and sending the bullet flying directly into the head of the paper man. “You’re on.”

————-

(Y/N) rolled her eyes as she passed Tim the folded up bill. Quickly, he snatched it from her hand before she could change her mind. He had been floating since they had left the range, and now they had arrived back home, he didn’t feel like stopping any time soon. 

“It was by two points!” (Y/N) said, annoyance running in her voice. “You’re not better, you distracted me.”

“Sounds like someone's a sore loser.” Tim teased. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you pick the movie. Consider it a participation trophy.”

“Consider it a participation trophy.” (Y/N) mocked under her breath as she sat down on the sofa, Kojo cuddling up beside her. Tim looked mildly offended by Kojo’s favouritism as he moved to sit on (Y/N)’s other side. 

“What was that?” He laughed

“Nothing!”

Tim hummed in acknowledgment, silently dropping the subject. Quickly he pulled out his phone to see how long the DoorDasher would take with their food.  

“Thank you,” (Y/N) said after a moment, bringing Tim’s attention back to her. “For today. I had a great time.”

Gently, he leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. “You never need to thank me for spending time with you. It will always be my pleasure.”

(Y/N) leaned back, resting her head on his chest. Snuggling down, she pulled a blanket over the two of them as Tim fished the remote and opened Netflix. 

After another silent moment, (Y/N) quietly spoke. “But if you ever cheat at the range again, I will divorce you.”

Tim’s chuckles vibrated through his chest, “Okay, baby, whatever you say.”

Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @agentred27 @hufflepuffwhore13 @tessalynni @anaferreira-4 @starstruckchopshoptyphoon @alessiamargaux @rexit-mo @ladespedidas @omg-its-vixen @agentcable @rookietrek @fluentmoviequoter @wonderland2425