#this is serious investigative journalism

[tarteggs]

the public wants to know

[katatty]

I had to post these, hehehe. I am trying out the Actual Alcohol mod and it turned into one hell of a girls night gone wrong??? Finally, my sims can do drunken proposals. I'm so happy.

(I was hoping Jane was gonna go for it but I guess she did just hook up with the sherrif and she really likes him. sad!)

[chamerionwrites]

I already recced it but fuck man that podcast is so cathartic

[hensunrik]

Wait hang on if we assume the rumor is true would that mean mr wreck it ralph learned it from mick who got it from one of his little gossip/hangout sessions with este bestie 👀

[ravengards-rogue]

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[dcxdpdabbles]

For your adoptive son au all I can think about is the media storm that’s about to destroy these two 😭

Like when the news comes out everyone’s gonna bash Danny, saying things like “always knew he was shady” or “figures, rich people are all bad” and then praising Dick for going undercover and revealing the monster

And then BAM the accusations are false! All the kids that were on his file of “trafficked” kids all came to testify in Danny’s defense!

Then because the media needs someone to hate all eyes turn to Dick. Because “these are serious accusations he’s practically ruined Danny’s career!”

Tbh when all the court stuff is done I totally imagine Danny severing any and all ties to Wayne company, not because he’s petty but because it genuinely hurts to be connected to a company that belongs to his exes family

Like this is gonna destroy Danny and Dick but the media is gonna make it so much worse for them

The batfam is gonna kick themselves for honestly not digging a little deeper and interviewing a few of the kids on file before straight up turning him in, they probably think they ruined Danny’s life with these accusations

Danny probably doesn’t care that much about the company at this point, he’s just sad that the man he thought he was having a genuine relationship with turned out to be a fake and probably never loved him at all 💔

Despite the pain, Dick keeps an eye on the news, waiting for the announcement of Crowne's arrest to be announced. He went back to bed after taking some photos of the journals. He laid next to the man one that was profiting off of children.

He stared at the ceiling, feeling a sick sort of numb. Unwillingly he thought back to all the times he had had the stray thought that Crowne wasn't evil.

That the bats had it wrong. How could a man as kind and dear as he does something so horrid? Dick had allowed himself to be relived with each failed month of searching for evdidnce.

He can admit it now. He had prayed that Crowne was innocent and had conducted his investigation not nearly as through as he should have.

He had.

Crowne even keeps a record of who and where the children were sold to. The man he fallen in love with was bookkeeping his crimes as easily as he did for his company.

The following day, Crowne- he had been Danny only a few hours ago.- had made him breakfast. The same way his mother used to make for Dick, admitting with a blush that he contacted Harley Cirius to ask for the recipe.

He made his heart swell and then break in the same bite. Dick played his role through the breakfast. His face felt like plastic, the smile he sent Crowne slimly, and he all but ran out of that house.

The house that, in another life, they would have likely raise a family in.

Don't think about it. Dick hissed at himself, tears filling his eyes as he drove away. Bruce had edited out the evidence and would break in while Crowne was working to capture the record books. They would meet in Commissioner Gordon's office, where Dick would turn in his lover. Not my lover. It was never real.

If he tells himself that, maybe he will believe it.

The commissioner had been grim faced as Dick broke down in his office, speaking through wrenched sobs and broken words of the journals he had found. He didn't even need to pretend to be a sobbing mess.

Dick doesn't think he's felt this terrible in a long time. It felt worse than when he and Bruce had their fights. At least then he could also feel anger. Now, he only feels pain, grief, betyal and shattered hope. Bruce- playing the part of a worried father- rubbed his back and anchored him through the moment.

The story they went with was that a few weeks ago, Dick started to suspect that Crowne was cheating on him. After learning about his work schedule, he noticed his boyfriend was always busy with non-work business.

He brought it up with Crowne, but the other man would often dance around the subject. After a while of this, Dick had been unable to help snoop around, where he stumbled across the journals.

At first, he assumed the books were for the many children-based charities that Crowne ran and didn't think they were too important. He continues to date Crowne after not finding any cheating evidence. But Dick could not help about those strange journals or Crowne's cagey behavior about his wearabouts.

Dick had searched the children's names, only to find them all matching missing children notices. He realized what Crowne was doing and had gone straight to Bruce, freaking out.

Bruce had taken them to Gordon since the man was such a close family friend, and they were worried what Crowne would do to Dick if he learned what Dick had discovered.

Gordon had assured them that they would remain anonymous until the trial,getting the warrants and taking the necessary steps to arrest Crowne. Feeling numb, Dick had been taken back to the Wayne Manor.

Bruce fretted around him, unsure what to do with his son, who had obviously fallen for a monster. Jason and Damian tried in their own way too help too, but Dick could not feel up to any of it.

He climbs into his room, muffling his sobs into his pillow, feeling sick and wrong to his stomach. He tossed and turneduntil Crowne's voice whispered I think I love you, Dick and he as if his world was ending.

A few seconds later, he's racing into the bathroom, hurling the breakfast Crowne had made him. It swirled around in the toilet as Dick gagged and gasped, mourning what he had lost for this mission.

The sweet kind man he fell in love with was dead to him.

"The worst part," Dick thinks he confessed to Bruce between tears and throwing up. His father had come racing when Jason reported the noises coming from Dick's bathroom. "Is that I was the one who killed him."

It's been three days.

He had texted Crowne lying about going on a trip and barely responded to the messages he received in return. He hadn't gone out on patrol in days and had barely ventured out of his room.

Sleep evaded because all he dreamed about was Crowne's sweet smiles, gentle hugs, and laughing eyes. His nightmares were filled with Crowne's smug smirk, surrounded by screaming children in cages. The worst nights were when Crowne would kiss him, pushing him against the cages as children cling to Dick's legs screaming and crying in haunting tones. why? why? why? Why do you love him? Look what he's done to us! Why!? Save us!

Dick woke with his own scream trapped in his throat and his arms reaching for a man who he shouldn't want anymore.

Now he, in the present, he sat before his tv watching the News. The lights were all off, the curtains drawn tightly closed. His family worried about him, but they all agree to watch the moment by himself, if only to spare his diginty.

Gordon had sent the message that the warrents were approve and proof had been dropped off by Batman after bringing it to the hero's attention.

They would be arresting Crowne.

Dick would watch it live. See with his own eyes, and his own ears what his lies had exposed.

"Breaking news," The anchor suddenly says, staring intently into the camera. Besides her, a small window shows the familiar front entrance of Crowne's company offices. Dick clenches his fist into the blankets he has wrapped around himself. "Danny Crowne, Owner, CEO and head developer for his family company, Crowne Co. has just been arrested on accusations of human trafficking. We go live to Crowne Co Admin bulding"

The window expands to the entire screen, and Dick feels his stomach turn into horrific mini-whirl pools as various camera crew scramble for a clear view. There is a crowd of unhappy citizens being held back by the police.

Someone had leaked what crimes Crowne had done. The news had spread fast enough that he was deeply hated by the people who had once cheered onhis name.

Crowne is led out in handcuffs by two scowling police officers. His suit is rumpled, and three large bruises are forming on his face- probably due to Officer Black, whose sister was sold to human traffickers when he was a kid-but it means nothing to his expression of devastation.

He looks to be in shock, staring down at his bound hands with dead seat eyes as if he was unsure of what he was seeing. The crowd starts screaming the moment they catch sight of him. Loud curses and swears are all aimed at the man who stumbles his way into the police car.

The doors of Crowne headquarters burst open by a screaming child. Timothy Drake is held back by officers as he desperately screams for his older brother. He starts fighting with all his tiny might as a woman from CPS drags him away.

The reporting journalist for the News outlet doesn't stop speaking as Crowne is led away, looking to be sobbing into his hands as the Police drive away. Drake is thrown into another car, banging on the windows and screaming so much his voice is raw.

The two would likely never see each other again.

Dick's vision blurs with more tears.

He wishes this would have made him angry. He's good with anger. He knows his rage. This grief is consumingly painful.

She outlines the accusations against Crowne, explaining that Gotham's finest had gotten a tip from an unknown source about the possible missing children. Dick slumps into his bed ice racing down his arms and legs, leaving each limb in pins and needles.

He can't stop picturing Crowne's form hunched over in tears, glowing in those red and blue lights.

"There is a gag order on the investigation, " the woman says, mic close to her face and looking grim. "We will keep the people updated with any new information released as we wait for Crowne's trail. Back to you Susan."

The screen flashes back to the old news member, who makes one single comment of disgust for Crowne before moving on to a string of cyber attackes by a unknown hacker.

Dick stops listening due to the rining that build up in his ears. It's done. Crowne was arrested. He will be go through his trail, be found guilty and locked up for the rest of his life.

Batman, Robin, and Sparrow would be hunting down the people involved in the ring, rescuing the missing children. The story was over. The villian defeated and the heros had won.

Yet, Dick felt that he could never live to see a happily ever after. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to feel happy.

______________________________________________________

Days blend into each other. Dick isn't sure how much time passes with him lying in his room, too exhausted to get upand go about his day. His family crowds around him, speaking in low, worried tones.

Jason tries to read to him. In bursts of awareness, he discusses the plot but most days, Dick can only find the energy to only stare at him.

Damian, still trying to find his footing in the manor, brings his cat- Alfred- to cuddle against Dick's chest. He doesn't speak much but the purring of his pe helps some sensations return.

Bruce spent most of his time petting Dick's hair and whispering apologies. For the fighting. For the war, he brought him into. For making him due something that had broken Dick's heart. Dick tells him between sobs that he forgives him and that he's sorry too.

Alfred just provids support, tea and stories of his own lost broken heart.

Dick can feel himself rot around in his room but can't bring himself to care. Not even when Bruce finally panics enough to invite the Teen Titians to speak to him. His friends arrive between waves of consciousness, forcing food down his throat and pushing him into the shower.

He isn't aware of how Crowne's trial is going. Walley doesn't think it is a good idea to keep up with it, blocking it from all his outlets. He's the only one he would be allowed to do that.

It leaves Dick in the dark, and suddenly the world looks so much colder. It is hard to remember the world is still spinning outside of the Manor.

Dick closes his eyes, sinking into his mattress, drifting away among the worried chattered of his friends. Thankfully, the nightmares have stopped. The memoriess too.

All that greets him is the blissful nothing of darkness.

____________________________________________________________

"You did this." A voice hisses, snapping Dick from his blank stare at the wall. Raven and Kori had just stepped out after magically him clean and had gone to go get him food.

How many days has it been since he left his room? Dick can't remember. It's been a while; his body feels weak. His friends' and family's eyes have grown increasingly frantic in worry.

He twists his head to find a small figure in his doorway. It's not any of his younger brothers but someone dressed in all black. The bottom half of their face is covered by a black cloth, leaving their burning blue eyes alight with hatred in plain sight.

A intruder.

Dick should be worried about that, shouldn't he? He can't find the energy to be.

"He trusted you. He loved you. And you did this to him," The figure spats, striding forward, hatred dripping from his words. "They're investigating my parents too. The police think they helped Danny and took me away from them. My life is ruined because of you."

He stands over his figure now, holding a needle. Dick wonders if he's going to kill him. He can't find it in himself to care. Is that not an alarming thought?

But he doesn't feel fear. In fact, Dick can't feel anything at all. He makes no sound as the needle breaks the skin of his neck, nor when the figure leans in to whisper. "It's only fair I ruin yours in turn, right?"

Dick slowly gives into the blissful darkness as more figures enter the room, surrounding his body and lifting it off the bed. The last thing he sees is the thrown picture frame, one of the intruders throwing onto the sheets.

It holds the smiling faces of Dick and Crowne on their last date.

[soon-palestine]

Israel, the world’s most innocent country, fell victim to a horrific attack from Iran with zero reported casualties on the same day Israel killed dozens of civilians in Gaza.

Israel had been minding its own business, quietly bombing hospitals, schools, universities, mosques, and an embassy, when the Iranian regime launched their outrageous attack for no apparent reason. Thankfully, the US and UK scrambled jets to defend Israeli airspace because it’s wrong to bomb countries in the Middle East, unless your name is Israel, in which case you can do all the bombing you want.

Every British and American ship in the region is now in grave danger and the risk of terror attacks on our soil has surely increased, but you will be relieved to know our countries have not benefitted in any way from our intervention. Personally, I can’t think of a better way for Israel to spend our tax money.

Our leaders have condemned Iran in the strongest possible terms, which is confusing because I thought we were supposed to remain ambiguous and say we’re investigating the matter when such an attack occurs. Perhaps this is one of those rules that only applies to Israel though.

When informed of the attack, a calm and rational Suella Braverman screamed: “WAR! I WANT WAR!” and when she’d stopped hyperventilating, she added: “This must be the end of western backsliding on Israel,” because she thinks we have not been sufficiently supportive of their genocide. Anyone who is not on the same side of the argument as Suella Braverman must ask serious questions about themselves.

Iran’s unprovoked attack involved giving Israel adequate warning and launching 30-year-old missiles, 99% of which were intercepted, and then saying the matter is closed unless Israel escalates further. The fact Iran would consider retaliating to further escalation from Israel shows just extreme these lunatics are.

Among Iran’s targets was the Israeli air base from which the missiles that struck its embassy were launched, killing 13 on April 1. As of yet, we have no indication as to why Iran carried out the attack, but we’re going to tell you it’s because they want to start World War III. Psychos.

Conspiracy theorists have suggested it’s actually Benjamin Netanyahu who wants escalation, but it’s unclear why the man who faces political oblivion, and possibly jail, would be incentivised to draw his allies into the fight and cause everyone to forget his many war crimes.

Israel, the country that definitely does not want war, has vowed an “unprecedented” response against Iran which will probably kill many more than zero people. If Iran expresses disapproval at Israel’s next mass murder, it’s because they’re trying to destabilise the region. At this point, we’ll have no choice but to help Israel do to Iran what we’ve spent six months helping them do to Gaza - launch precision strikes that destroy 70% of the buildings in the country and leave survivors living in tents.

Worryingly, we’ve just discovered at the most convenient moment that Iran has enough uranium to build 12 nuclear bombs. If it were true that Iran had so much weapon-grade uranium, it would be incredibly stupid to attack them, but we’re going to insist we must attack them because we’re weapon-grade idiots - and we think you are too.

Please just switch your brain off and accept what you’re being told, you simpletons! What matters is rich people can afford nuclear bunkers if this all goes horribly wrong. In the meantime, you can look forward to lots of exciting stories in the media about bringing back conscription and describing how you are likely to die in humanity's final war. Are you looking forward to radiation sickness and nuclear winter? Because they sound like brilliant fun! x

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this outstanding piece of journalism as much as I did, you can support my work here:

[garbinge]

GOOD MOOD

Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Wife!Reader // Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Gibbs comes home in a good mood and you decide the best way to break some not so 'good mood' news to him. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. liiiiight angst. liiiight fluff. Smoking Weed/Being High. Mentions of losing a job, violence, punching. No use of Y/N. Reader is a private investigator, married to Gibbs, and has a teenage child in this fic. A/N: Been rewatching NCIS from the beginning and I just simply forgot how much I love this show. Grew up watching some episodes when they'd be on tv running reruns but never watched from season to season before and I just jkshjkhf love it so much. So now I'm adding another fandom and character to the roster!

“You know I’m a federal agent, right?” Gibbs’s voice came from behind you along with the sliding of your back porch door. 

“Yea, but I’m not.” You smirked, holding the joint in your hand as you blew the smoke out that he was clearly smelling as he joined you in the backyard. 

“What’s with the new recreational activity?” He still had his work clothes on as he turned the patio chair around so it was next to yours. 

“Rough day at work.” You exhaled. 

“Being a private dick will do that.” He had a hint of humor in his voice as he said it. Teasing your occupation the way he would if it was anyone else.

“Investigator.” Correcting him with a smirk on your face, you continued talking. “And what can I say, there were no more special agent openings at NCIS.” 

“You’d fail the drug test anyways.” He was looking over at you, a smile wide on his face. 

“You’re in a good mood.” Your eyebrows raised, your face matching his humor. 

“Better than usual.” He shrugged and kicked his feet up on the bricks that surrounded the fire pit in front of you.

“Hm.” Turning your head back forward, you looked at the fire that was starting to die down. 

Gibbs’s face turned into a frown as he questioned you. “What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” You teased him, taking advantage of his good mood. 

“What’s with the hm?” He mimicked the noise you made. 

Letting out a laugh you dropped your head on your shoulder, “I’m debating if I want to ruin your good mood.” 

“Ah.” It was his turn now to look away and towards the fire pit. “How bad?”

“Eh.” You shrugged. 

“That’s like a 5, that’s not bad.” He was joking but his face was serious which is what made you laugh out loud slightly before deciding to spit out the news. 

“I lost my job.” 

Gibbs didn’t show any emotion on his face, just a slight nod as he acknowledged you. “Who’d you punch?” 

It never should have surprised you when Gibbs knew things without being told, but it always did. 

“Your knuckles.” He was getting up to feed the fire as he said it. 

Your eyes looked down and saw the red bruising finding it's home around your knuckles and closed your eyes as you rested your head against the back of the chair, joint still in your left hand. 

“My private dick of a boss.” 

Gibbs smirked slightly at that as he dropped a few more pieces of wood into the fire. “Enough was enough, huh?” 

“That and he called me a bitch.” That was a statement which earned you a look from him, he froze in his steps and stared up at you through his brows. “Don’t worry, I clearly took care of it.” You flashed your hand to him. 

He went back to feeding the fire as the silence fell over you two for a few minutes. Coming back to the patio chair, he sat down and placed his hands behind his head. 

“All things considered, that’s not too bad. Never understood why you worked for that asshole.” 

“I told you, NCIS wasn’t hiring.” While it was a joke, Gibbs took you seriously. 

He pointed to the joint. “I could get you in. Just have to wait a couple weeks.” 

“Nah, I’m goin’ back to my roots. Investigative journalism.” Your eyebrows raised. 

It was how you met Gibbs all those years ago, you were working on a big story, one that brought you to the NCIS headquarters during Gibbs’s first year on the job as special agent. The rest was history. 

“And now I have an in at the Naval Criminal Investigators offices if I find myself with a big Navy scoop.” 

“Pretty sure you had an in when you first stepped onto those offices.” He was smiling now, staring at you. 

“You’re still in a good mood.” You smiled back at him, both of you looking at each other as the orange tone of the fire reflected off his skin. 

“Told you, wasn’t that bad.” 

“Hold onto that feeling.” You scrunched your face up while his own face dropped. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I got the weed?” 

Gibbs's mind started running, trying to think of an answer that made sense. Putting that special agent brain to work as if it wasn’t overworked enough all day on duty. He was coming up blank, which automatically put him a few points lower on the good mood meter, stumping Gibbs wasn’t enjoyable, for anyone. 

“Where’d you get the weed?” He asked, knowing you wouldn’t tell him unless he did ask. You knew better than to interrupt Gibbs when he was working a case, interrogating someone, or even just as simple as working through a thought. 

“Your daughter.” After you said it, you took another hit from the joint, knowing you were gonna need it for his response. 

“What?!” He kicked his feet off the fire pit bricks, his arms were next to his body which was sitting up now, bent over his legs as he leaned forward all while turning to look back at you, shock–or anger, all over his face. 

“Got a call from the school today, she got caught smoking in the bathroom. The school apparently doesn’t discard of the herb on their own so they gave it back to me.” You let out a giggle at that, clearly the weed starting to work its wonders on you but also laughing at the strange policy. 

“Where is she?” Gibbs was still concerned. 

“In her room, where she’ll be for the next two weeks. I told her how her father is a federal agent and she can’t have this shit in the house.” 

Gibbs’s face twisted up in a smile at that comment. “So you, her mother, clearly are out here setting the example for her.” 

“I had to get rid of it somehow.” You lifted your hands in innocence. 

Gibbs let out a laugh. “You too high to help me with the boat?” 

“Never.” You were getting up, tossing the joint into the fire. “You gonna talk to her?” Now you were standing in front of your husband, his eyes were moving away from yours at the thought of needing to scold his teenage daughter. 

“Depends. What else you tell her?” 

“That I was still deciding if I was going to tell you or not.” 

It was the most you saw Gibbs smile in one night in a while. He was in a good mood. 

“That’s good, that’ll keep her guessing.” 

“Ain’t my first rodeo.” Your shoulders raised as you bragged, humbly. 

It was then that he placed his lips on your forehead, giving you a quick kiss as his hand moved to your hand that was littered with the memory of your awful day. His thumbs lightly caressing the bruises on your knuckles.

“You knock him out cold?” 

“I told you, it ain’t my first rodeo.”  That made Gibbs good mood turn to a great one, he never liked the guy you worked for, he didn’t like private investigators at all, but for you he tolerated them. But this not only meant he was done tolerating them but that he’d get to live with the mental image of you knocking the jerk out cold. 

“C’mon, I’m almost done with the hull, have a feeling this story is gonna get me through the finish line on that.” 

“Eh.” You scrunched your face up again. “I am high, so probably through the rest of the hull and the start of the bow. I get kind of chatty.” 

With a laugh, Gibbs tossed his arm over your shoulder and planted another kiss to your temple. Yea, he was still in a good mood.

Dividers by: realitycanbewhateveridesire ♡ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you’d like to be added! I'm using my all writing taglist right now!)

[itsbansheebitch]

My Hot Take for the Day

After the James Somerton situation, the SWOOP exposes Johnny Silvestri in the Colleen Ballinger situation, and other videos where youtubers do serious investigative work, I feel like some of these youtubers should be recognized for their efforts.

SWOOP has already been on multiple news outlits for her youtube videos, why don't we give these people more recognition?

I can already name some people that should, I don't know, get an award for investigative journalism or something

Coffeezilla (Specifically regarding his SBF & Save The Kids Crypto scam series)

SWOOP (The Colleen Ballinger series, specifically)

Hbomberguy (For the Plagiarism, Roblox, vaccines, and climate change videos specifically)

Philosophy Tube (specifically for the vaccine video, that was an awesome study)

FriendlyJordies (Got his house fire bombed when he investigated Australia's government & many more people & organizations)

This is a starting list, but please, feel free to add to the list, we need to give these people more recognition!

I don't know the best way to formally recognize youtubers for investigative journalism, but I do know these are some people you should take seriously. Their work is unmatched.

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

Stuck on the Past | Part 2

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You never thought you'd see Bradley Bradshaw again, especially the way things ended between the two of you. So what happens when he's suddenly back for a special mission and is determined to win you back too?

Warnings: Angst (ish), adult language, drinking

Length: 2.5k

"You let him give you a ride home? Are you insane?" April screeched over the phone. You were stood outside your office building, about to go into work.

"Look, I don't know how it happened, okay? I was gonna say no-"

"But you can't resist him." April huffed, "He's not a bad guy, but you can't go back there again."

"I know." You sighed, "I don't have to see him again anyways. Plus, he actually had the nerve to flirt with me in the car! Can you believe that? Said that I was his favourite ex-girlfriend or something."

April groaned, "He's an ass, but I'm not surprised. You're this hotshot journalist now and you looked hot the other night. Of course he flirted with you."

You chuckled, "I have to go. I'll message you later."

You said goodbye and hung up the phone, walking into the building and eventually finding your desk. Maybe April was right. You've got a good job and you certainly looked a lot better than you did in your 20s. But then again, so did Bradley.

Before you could log into your computer, one of the interns was at your desk. "Mark wants to see you in his office." She said. You thanked her, and made your way to your bosses office.

You knocked and carefully opened the door. Mark was grinning from behind his desk, which usually meant he'd found a juicy story for you to cover. Things were looking up.

He beckoned you inside, "Sit down. Do I have something great for you!"

You were lucky, Mark was a great boss. He'd been in the business for a while and helped you work your way up when you'd started writing for him. He was older and could be stern when he wanted to be, but he was always okay with you.

You sat in front of him, "What's the story?"

He leaned forward, "A real investigation." He grabbed a file from his drawer and placed it in front of him on the desk, leaning forward to face you again, "You'll never believe it. We've been tipped off that Top Gun are hosting the best in the business right now to help them with a top secret mission."

Your face fell, "I haven't heard anything about that." You forced out, trying to sound casual.

"Of course you haven't!" He scoffed, "No one has, the only info we have right now is that the mission is serious, and some of the best aviators in the country are training for it as we speak! You're gonna find out the other details. I wanna know what they're up to."

You squirmed in your seat. Mark was a great boss, sure, but something like this? He was never gonna let it go. "Sir, with all due respect, why have you got me on this? I mean, I don't know a whole lot about aviation, I'm sure I wouldn't even understand the ins and outs of the mission if someone laid it out in front of me." You chuckled nervously.

Mark leaned back in his chair, "A little birdie told me that's not strictly true." He grinned, opening up the file in front of him until there were pictures on display. He pushed it in front of you and you realised it must be pictures of the Top Gun graduates going on the mission. You spotted Bradley straight away. He really did look good. "You know one of these aviators right? I hear you dated while you were studying?"

Shit. It must have been Anna that let it slip. She had studied journalism the same year as you. Probably saw Bradley pick you up a few times. You'd probably gushed about him to her while you were at school. There was no getting out of this.

Your cleared your throat, "I was involved with one of them, sure."

"Then you are the perfect person for this!" Mark was practically giddy. He was one of those constantly questioning the government and how they spent 'good tax-payers' money, of course he would jump at the chance to out some special mission, "You have a way in!"

Your mouth fell open. You couldn't remember a time you'd felt more embarrassed than this. You glanced down at Bradley's photo. "I - He's.. I don't even know how big of a role he's playing in this. I saw him the other night but-"

"Perfect!" Mark jumped up, "You interview him, get on base, I don't care! Do whatever it takes to get some information."

You stood up too, "But, I mean, what if it's completely boring? You know, not even worth writing about? I bet it's probably something really routine, there's no need to be looking into this." you rambled, knowing that ultimately, your fate was sealed.

"This is big." Mark said, smiling, "I can feel it. They're training for something important and you're gonna find out what it is."

You stood facing him, trying to think of anything else you could argue, "Maybe I should-"

"Nope!" Mark said, walking you towards the door and shoving the file into your hands, "You get straight on it, I won't hear another word. Do what you need to do. Take one of 'em out for a drink if you have to, I don't care! Go! Get started."

Then before you knew it you were stood outside the building again, waiting for April to pick up her phone. When the call finally connected, you didn't even say hello.

"I'm screwed."

-

You couldn't believe your luck at this point. First seeing Bradley after all these years, then being forced to ask him for his help. Even if he agreed to see you, there was no way he was going to tell you all the details of his mission. He wasn't that stupid.

It was late by the time you left work. Your mind had been running wild all day. You'd done as much research as you could, but you couldn't help but think that you'd been given an impossible task.

As you worried about how you'd get in touch with Bradley again, or if you even should, you noticed a new car parked outside your apartment block. Once you pulled in outside, you realised it wasn't a new car at all, it was Bradley's bronco.

Maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as you thought.

You stepped out of your car and walked to his drivers side, tapping on his window. He jumped and you stepped back so he could get out of the car.

"Why are you parked outside my apartment? Decided to stalk me now?" You huffed.

Bradley held his hands up in surrender, "No, sweetheart, I just came to apologise for the other night."

"Don't call me that." You frowned, "How long have you been sat out here?"

"Not long. I saw your neighbour, she said you'd be getting home from work within the hour." He shrugged, "I felt bad. I wanted to see you."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. How was this happening? Raising your eyes to meet his, he had this boyish grin on his face, like he knew he was playing with fire, but he didn't care.

You began to walk towards your apartment building, when you turned to see Bradley hadn't moved, you sighed, "Are you coming or what?" He smiled and hurried to catch up with you. This was definitely a bad idea.

-

"Nice place." Bradley stood by your couch whilst you were trying to make coffee with shaking hands. He was in his flight suit and you couldn't stop staring. April was right, you really couldn't resist him. For the sake of your job, you'd have to try.

You handed him a cup of coffee and the two of you sat down on your coach, "Thanks. It's not much, kinda small, but it's all I need."

Bradley nodded, taking a sip of coffee and placing it on the small table in front of you both, "I still remember that first place you had, remember your old neighbour? God, what was her name?"

"Evelyn!" You smiled nostalgically, "She was so miserable, always used to yell at me when you came over."

"That's because we made way too much noise." Bradley smirked and you rolled your eyes.

"We weren't that loud."

"You definitely were, sweetheart." He grinned.

You gave him a playful glare, glancing down at the coffee cup in your hands, "This is so weird. Seeing you." You looked up, meeting his eyes, "When we... When you left, I-" you sighed, "I never thought I'd see you again."

Bradley's eyes softened as they met yours. Truthfully, he didn't think he'd see you again either. In fact, he promised himself he wouldn't come back for that very reason. He knew you deserved someone that would always be there for you and he couldn't be that person, not when he always had a deployment looming over him. You'd grown so much in the time you'd been apart and so had he, he'd often thought over the years that his younger self had made too quick of a decision to leave. Maybe.

He cleared his throat, "I didn't think I would ever come back here, maybe it's fate." He tried to joke, but the air just got thicker, the silence more awkward.

"Bradley." You said, lips forming a tight line, "Why are you here? I mean, right now, on my couch. You didn't have to come and apologise for the other night. You know that. So why are you here?"

Bradley groaned, leaning back on the couch and turning away from you, running a hand through his hair, "I'm out of my depth here with this mission. It's stupid but... I needed someone to talk to and I don't know many people here. I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Your ears perked up at that. You felt mean, but maybe this was how you'd get some information on the mission. Just enough to satisfy your boss, you didn't need to dig that deep. "Why? What's wrong with the mission?"

He turned to look at you, "The mission isn't exactly the problem. Maverick is teaching it."

You almost choked on your coffee. You'd never met Maverick in person, but you knew how hurt Bradley was by what he had done. It had taken him a while to open up to you about it back then, and it looked like he was just as hurt by it all now. "Maverick? But I thought he.. Wouldn't he have retired by now?"

Bradley let out a loud laugh, "He won't retire. He'll never retire, as much as I wish he would." He sighed, "He's trying to.. make things right. He pulled my papers, how can I forgive him? He'll never give me a fair shot at this mission. He doesn't trust me in the air."

"I think you'll find a way." You answered simply with a shrug, "Forgiveness takes a lot sometimes. Maybe being closer to him will help you get there."

His eyes met yours. He was searching for something, you didn't know what, until he said, "What about me? Have you forgiven me?"

Before you could answer, someone buzzed your apartment. You apologized and went to answer, when April's voice came blaring through the speaker, "I thought I'd surprise you! I brought wine!"

You glanced from Bradley and back to the buzzer, "I'll buzz you in." You said, knowing that April was likely about to unleash hell.

"Who was that?" Bradley asked, turning to face you from the couch.

You opened your mouth to reply as April knocked the door. When you opened it, she grinned, holding up the bottle of wine she'd brought and walking towards the lounge, "I was gonna message you but I thought why not be an amazing best friend and-" She stopped quickly when she saw Bradley sat on the couch, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Bradley just grinned like nothing phased him, "April. It's been a while."

She placed the wine onto the coffee table and crossed her arms, "I don't know what's going on here, but I don't like it."

You came to her side, muttering her name until Bradley stood, "I'm not surprised. You never did like anything much, did you?" He chuckled, "I'll get going, get out of your way."

You nodded, "I'll walk you out."

When you reached your front door, he turned to you, "That didn't go exactly as I'd planned." He smiled, "I've still got your number, if you haven't changed it, mind if I call you sometime?"

"I haven't changed it." You replied with a shrug, "I don't mind."

He grinned, "Good, maybe we could grab dinner soon? I'd like that a lot."

You nodded, not giving him a definite answer, before saying goodbye and closing the door, walking into the lounge to face April. She was stood in the middle of the room, flipping through the Top Gun folder, "What is this?"

You frowned, grabbing it from her, "Where did you find that?"

"You left it on your kitchen counter." She faced you, crossing her arms, "So is your big explanation that you invited him over to help you with this article your boss is making you write?"

"No." You sighed, "He doesn't know about the article. I don't know whether to tell him. He wants to go for dinner."

Her eyes widened, "The only reason you should go to dinner with him is to professionally discuss his mission. That's it. Otherwise, you'll only end up getting hurt again."

You shrugged, "Maybe not. He's older, we're older. More mature..." You groaned, flopping onto the couch, "April, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm over him! I've been over him for years and then he just randomly shows up here and-"

"Calm down. Drink up." April poured a glass of wine and handed it to you, "You need to be strong here. He might have been your big love, but he needs to prove he's grown up before you assume that he has."

You nodded and sipped at your wine. Bradley definitely seemed grown up, but deep down was he still the boy that broke your heart? The boy that decided to leave when things got too tough? You didn't even know if he was interested in anything with you or if he was just trying to be friendly. You couldn't stop thinking about him either. Especially now you'd seen him in his flight suit.

April was right.

You needed to calm down.

-

You lay awake staring at the text you'd been sent nearly ten minutes ago.

Still thinking about you. Let me know when you're free

What could you even say to that? You didn't want to admit you'd been thinking about him. You could barely admit that to yourself yet. Your boss had hounded you the last couple days, asking if you'd spoken to anyone or found anything out yet. You'd said you were working on it.

Did late night texts count as working on it?

You messaged him back before you could regret it.

Tomorrow night?

You put your phone down on your bedside table, picking it up not even a minute later when it buzzed.

Pick you up at 7.

[ms-hells-bells]

i just found something incredible today while browsing retractionwatch. you know that study that liberals tout regarding 'legalising prostitution decreased rape, and criminalising it increases rape'? well-

After reading an economics paper that claimed to document an increase in the rate of rape in European countries following the passage of prostitution bans, a data scientist had questions. 

The scientist, who wishes to remain anonymous, sent a detailed email to an editor of the Journal of Law and Economics, which had published the paper last November, outlining concerns about the data and methods the authors used. 

Among them: the historical rates of rape recorded in the paper did not match the values in the official sources the authors said they used. In other cases, data that were available from the official sources were missing in the paper, the researchers didn’t incorporate all the data they had collected into their model, and a variable was coded inconsistently, the data scientist wrote. (We’ve made the full critique available here.)

Given the consequences the conclusions of the article could have for people in the sex industry, the data scientist wrote, “I hope that someone takes this very seriously and looks into it the [sic] validity of the analysis and the data they used.” 

In response, Sam Peltzman, an editor of the journal and a professor emeritus of economics at the University of Chicago’s Booth School of Business, instructed the data scientist to contact the authors of the article: 

The email raises serious questions but without any specific request. Your questions can better be answered by the authors than editors who, as you must know, cannot give each submission the kind of careful attention reflected in your email. Accordingly, we ask that you contact the authors directly if you have not already done so. If you mean the email as a prologue to a critique, I am happy to discuss our relevant policies or any other question about our editorial process.

The data scientist wrote back with a specific request: 

I have just informed you, the editor, that it appears that the authors made an error in at least one of their models that resulted in a substantive difference in the conclusions of the article you edited … I am requesting you investigate if these models are correct and if so, at very least issue a correction. [emphasis original]

In response, Peltzman reiterated his refusal to investigate: 

I can only repeat what was in my last letter. You should take this up with the authors first. The editors cannot become involved unless your conversation with the authors fails to resolve the issues and a comment is received through the usual submission process.           

The University of Chicago Press, which publishes the Journal of Law and Economics, states on its publication ethics page that

When notified of possible errors or corrections, the editor(s) of the journal will review and resolve them in consultation with the Press and according to the Press’s best practices. 

We asked Peltzman why he refused to investigate the concerns the data scientist had raised. He told us:  

The JLE does not have the resources to investigate concerns about data procedure used by authors.  We select referees knowledgeable about the topic of any submission.  Occasionally a referee might comment on some detail of data used by authors.  more often the referee and editors have to take data details at face value and focus their efforts on evaluating empirical results and analysis.  While I can only speak for the JLE it is my impression that these procedures are common among economics journals that publish empirical articles.

Peltzman also explained that the journal’s standard procedure for considering critiques of published articles, “designed to avoid misunderstanding and excessive burden on editors’ and referees’ time,” starts with the critic contacting the authors directly. 

If the authors don’t respond, or if their response is unsatisfactory, the critic could then submit a comment to the journal along with their correspondence with the authors, which the editors would handle as any other submission. 

“Editors obviously cannot be expected to look at raw data for every paper they review,” the data scientist acknowledged, “but when concerns are brought directly to them it is their responsibility to take them seriously. If readers can’t trust that editors will address serious concerns appropriately, it will undermine their faith in the scientific process.”  

We contacted the authors of the paper, Huasheng Gao and Vanya Stefanova Petrova of Fudan University’s Fanhai International School of Finance in Shanghai, and shared the data scientist’s critique. They responded with an 11-page PDF, available here, standing by their work. 

About the differences between the data and their paper and the official sources, they said: 

the data we have used in the paper were the most up-to-date data available at the time we started the empirical work in 2018 … Eurostat is constantly revising its data. It is possible that the data contained in its current version are different from the historical version

The data scientist was unimpressed, and noted that the authors had not responded to a key aspect of the critique: 

Even if the authors believe it was a reasonable strategy to only assess two years post policy change, the relative year variable for year 2— the year in which they identified a large causal increase in rape in the criminalized prostitution countries and a reduction in the prostitution decriminalized countries — was coded incorrectly (or differently for some reason). When the coding is consistent with their original coding scheme, a reduction in rape is seen in the criminalized prostitution group. I’m not sure why they didn’t address this in their response.

The authors also did not directly respond to the data scientist’s concern that if they had incorporated every year of data they had on rape rates into their model, instead of only the two years following a change in prostitution laws, they would not have gotten the same results, the scientist said. 

To check whether data values had indeed changed since the authors started their work, the scientist went to the website of the University of Michigan’s Institute for Social Research, where the survey data the authors used is available for download, and found that no substantive changes had been made. 

The scientist told us: 

If they did something wrong or made a mistake they should just take accountability and retract the article.

let me simplify and repeat the core of this to you:

the scientists not only missed out data points, but if the scope of the study changes from the first two years post law change (whether criminalisation or decriminalisation) to all years of rape records before and after we have, THE RESULTS REVERSE AND THE CRIMINALISED SIDE HAS DECREASED RATE OF RAPE COMPARED TO SWITCHING TO DECRIMINALISED.

not to mention the fallacious belief that being forced to have sex or starve/be homeless, with an abusive pimp taking most of your money, is somehow not rape.

this whole study is near worthless. the only worth is having access to the data points they used, so we can see actual results.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Solomon + 🙊 please and thank you!

"I've never found a way to be honest." - Solomon/MC

You run your fingers over the leather-bound spines of rows upon rows of notebooks crammed too tightly into the bookshelves lining Solomon's walls. Centuries of magical experimentation are recorded therein, thousands of pages of the sorcerer's past efforts and investigations -- and the only tangible glimpses you've ever gotten into his life before.

"You know, you seem like the type of person who would keep a journal," you say, looking back inquisitively towards him. "Do you?"

"What, here, in the Devildom? Not out in the open like that where anyone could find it," he answers with a teasing grin. "Why? Would you like to read it?"

"Would you really show it to me?" You're pretty sure it's not a serious offer, but you perk up a little despite yourself. You can't help it; it's been over a year since he took you on as an apprentice, yet still he dodges your questions every time you try to learn more about him.

"For my adorable apprentice? Of course," he says, his smile never leaving his face, "if I had one to show. But I stopped writing them, oh, a couple thousand years ago probably, so I guess not!"

"Solomon!" you yell in frustration, lightly tossing a stray tome at him that he easily deflects with a flash of magic. "Just say that then! Can't you be honest with me for once in your life?"

"Honest, hm? I wonder," he laughs cheerfully, though there's an edge to it that you're not used to hearing. You can't quite pinpoint what emotion is hidden inside -- sadness, bitterness? Emptiness, maybe, or something else entirely. There's a shadow of something almost dangerous in his storm-colored eyes -- but he captures your hands in his and presses a deep kiss against your lips before you have a chance to understand what it is.

His breath is warm against your face, his fingers intertwining their way tightly through yours, and you can feel the wave of raw, unspoken emotion from him. You start to melt into him against your better judgment, begrudgingly letting your annoyance slip away under his touch.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulls away, that unreadable grin wide across his face again. "How was that? Was that honest enough?"

You could murder this man, if he weren't immortal.

"You know that's not what I meant!" You sigh, then add, "Solomon...why don't you trust me?"

He gives another soft hum in thought, brushing his lips lightly upon your forehead without meeting your gaze. "Trust is a hard thing to give away with all these angels and demons around us," he murmurs finally. "I've never found a way to be honest."

You frown, squeezing his hand in yours.

"Well, I want to trust you, Solomon. So I need you to trust me. Please."

He falls quiet, then kisses you again, softer this time, more vulnerable than the first. When he lets go, his face lingers inches from yours. For the first time, you see a hint of fear in his eyes. They stare deeply into you, as if searching for any reason to back out, any excuse to pull away. His muscles are tensed, ready to run.

But you have always been honest with him. He owes you the same.

"Okay. I will."

[kazutora-kurokawa]

It Wasn't Me! (A fic about Mikey's dorayaki getting stolen while some of Toman's founders are hanging out)

♡ SFW, use of nicknames, cursing, mentions of arson, false accusations/Mikey blaming everyone for stealing, set in an au where Shinichiro survives Kazutora hitting him and everything is peachy keen between the founders, just a random idea that popped in my head ♡

Characters: Mikey, Draken, Kazutora, Mitsuya, Takemichi

Mentions of: Pah-Chin, Baji, and Shinichiro

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Mitsuya sat on the couch in the corner of Toman's hideout, scribbling away in his design journal before noticing something strange. "Draken?" Draken looked up from the book he was reading. "Yea Suya? What is it?" "Isn't it oddly quiet?" "You know what, now that you mention it, it is-" "WHO TOOK IT?" Mikey's voice reverberated throughout the hideout, interrupting Draken mid-sentence.

"I knew it was too good to be true." Mitsuya closed his journal and placed it on the couch before getting up to go with Draken to investigate Mikey's sudden outburst. "What's wrong now Mikey?" "I'll tell you what's wrong! There's a thief in our midst!" "What got stolen?" The boys turned around, surprised by Kazutora's sudden appearance. "What the fuck Tora, you scared the hell outta us! Where did you even come from?

"I was just out riding around on my bike, I needed to clear my head. So...is anybody gonna say what got stolen or is it a guessing game?" Draken and Mitsuya turned back to face Mikey, awaiting his response. "What got stolen is my dorayaki. Some scoundrel came in here and got their dirty hands on it!" "Are you fucking serious right now? I'm sitting back down, this is just ridiculous." "That's what you were yelling about? I promise you it's not that serious." "Yes it is! Takemitchy-kun brought it for me earlier and I was planning on eating it right now, but I obviously can't cause it's gone!" "It's not like you're gonna die without it, just relax."

"What do you mean relax? I can't relax with a thief running around!" "Well who do you think stole it?" "Pah hasn't been here, so you can rule him out." Draken yelled from the couch. "You know what? It was probably Baji, he does illegal stuff all the time." "Mikey you can't just go around accusing people who aren't here to defend themselves." "Exactly, you're basically just slandering him." "He literally lights cars on fire, can you really blame me for suspecting someone with a criminal record?" "I hate to admit it, but he's got a point."

"Oh shut up Draken!" "Okay let's calm it down a bit. Mikey, I think you're placing the blame on Baji because you're too lazy to actually do any detective work." Mikey crossed his arms and stared sheepishly at the ground. Mitsuya was right, no matter how much Mikey wished he wasn't. "Okay fine, I admit that I'm lazy. I guess Baji didn't do it." As the words left his mouth, Mikey looked up in sudden realization. "If it wasn't him, then it must've been one of you!"

"Oh that's just fantastic, are we gonna be playing the blame game all day? Why the hell would we steal your dorayaki? "I don't know, maybe to piss me off." "Well I don't have any reason to wanna piss you off and I was enjoying the peace and quiet, so I definitely wouldn't steal anything from you knowing you'd have an outburst." "I'm with Suya on this one, nobody wants to hear your damn mouth while they're trying to read."

Mikey turned his attention towards Kazutora, loading up his accusation. "Then it must've been you Kazutora!" "I literally just got here like 10 minutes ago dumbass, how could I steal it?" "I don't know, but I need someone to blame!" "Hey guys, what's up?" Takemichi wandered through the door of the hideout, oblivious to the situation plaguing his friends. "And the plot thickens." "Nothing much Takemichi, just Mikey blaming everyone for stealing his dorayaki." "I haven't blamed everyone, just you guys." "You say that as if it makes it any better." "Dorayaki? You mean the one I brought for you?" "Yes and someone snatched it up!"

Takemichi just stood there and laughed awkwardly, giving the boys a chance to notice the bag he held in his hand. "Takemichi, that wouldn't happen to be Mikey's dorayaki in that bag would it?" "Yeah it is, he forgot to grab it before he left." "Wow, so he really just accused everyone for no reason. That's crazy." "Mikey you owe all of us an apology."

Feeling guilty and embarrassed at his own behavior, Mikey shuffled his way over to Takemichi, taking the bag out of his hand. "Thanks Takemitchy." Mikey turned around and faced the guys, who were actively expecting an apology. "Guys..." Mikey took a long pause before continuing. "I'm not sorry." He walked out the door, too stubborn to admit he was wrong.

"I wish I would've hit him with those bolt cutters instead of Shinichiro."

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkitkats @happy-trenchcoated-impala @rindousbabyg

[mindblowingscience]

While we often think of diseases as caused by foreign bodies—bacteria or viruses—there are hundreds of diseases affecting humans that result from errors in cellular production of proteins. A team of researchers led by the University of Massachusetts Amherst leveraged the power of cutting-edge technology, including an innovative technique called glycoproteomics, to unlock the carbohydrate-based code that governs how certain classes of proteins form themselves into the complex shapes necessary to keep us healthy. The research, published in the journal Molecular Cell, explores members of a family of proteins called serpins, which are implicated in a number of diseases. The research is the first to investigate how the location and composition of carbohydrates attached to the serpins ensure that they fold correctly. Serious diseases—ranging from emphysema and cystic fibrosis to Alzheimer's disease—can result when the cellular oversight of protein folding goes awry. Identifying the glyco-code responsible for high-fidelity folding and quality control could be a promising way for drug therapies to target many diseases.

Continue Reading.

[mamawasatesttube]

So i was just rotating your "Jack drake lives au" in my mind and at the same time remembered those panels of superman shaking hands with Some Fucking Guy (i think he was being a bitch to Lois or smth) and he makes direct unflinching eye contact with the tight lipped smile and his grip is a little too tight to be friendly

Anyways im not saying he hates Jack but i do think Kon off-handedly mentioned the "joke" about his nail polish and Clark went "oh really now?" And didnt forget

So rip Jack at that family dinner night bc not only is Lois waiting for an excuse to obliterate him but Clark is right there with her and if jack thinks that Good Ol Country folk Ma and Pa will back him up then hes in for a surprise lol

oh yeah absolutely!!!! the thing is. literally Nobody likes jack in this au ksjdhfkd like kon and dick absolutely have texted each other to bitch about him, ma openly shakes her head when she hears about how he treats tim (and she WILL speak her mind if he ever tries to shut that sweet boy down in front of her!), cass literally won't speak to him bc he failed the vibe check so bad, etc...

and like. no one is telling tim this. they Know it'll make him feel like he has to defend his dad bc he loves him! but sometimes tim mentions oh he can't join for games this friday night, he and his dad are going on an early morning fishing trip. and cass just meets kon's eyes across the room behind tim's back and rolls her eyes so hard.

but yeah. clark will mostly let lois handle the obliteration with ma's backup as needed bc he knows she's got this. his form of expressing his severe disapproval of jack, his views, and his parenting? supporting tim. thanking him for doing the dishes after dinner, praising his work ethic, ruffling his hair and telling him he did a great job with that case he wrapped up last week, etc. it makes tim go "!!! :D!!!" like that pic of the cat getting patted. tim has always craved approval and affirmation and affection from people around him and he gets it in spades from the kents. and jack sees his son light up and open up around these people way more than he does with him. it's not a good feeling.

it's just tough bc like, tim doesn't want anyone getting mad at jack. but the idea of anyone getting mad at jack on his behalf is also just such a shock to him. he's not used to that. he feels like he has to manage jack and be responsible for him in a lot of ways (if jack says something shitty in front of lois, tim cringes because now jack is gonna get his ass handed to him and feel humiliated, and that's his dad and he was trying to help, and also he feels like it's on him that his dad is being like that. why? oh you know.) (its the unnamed emotional abuse, thats why.)

but also clark and kon watch lois ask tim how his degree is going now that he's in engineering school, and lightly rib him and ask if she can't poach him into investigative journalism instead, because she doesn't usually take interns but she'd make an exception! and tim cocks his head like a dog and says well, maaaybe he'd be down to consider an internship if she's serious? it does sound cool. what are the details? and jack, who barely gets more than one-word answers when he talks to tim about his future, is just kinda seething. heart rate goin up bc hes mad. and kon and clark just exchange extremely amused glances across the kitchen and sip their hot chocolates.

like the tim and jack dynamic is complicated; it'd be a lot easier if the love wasn't so real but it is present. its just that jack is soooo emotionally immature and grounded in Classic American Manhood and ideas of fatherhood. and the fact that tim is growing beyond that and not fitting in the mold he's "supposed" to eats at him. its a tragedy but also we are all pointing and laughing at jack every time superfam make him grind his teeth.

[flightfoot]

Fics with major Alya focus that Alya fans should read

So it's hard to find fics where Alya's a central character, where she has a character arc, focus, development of her own to a significant degree, so I figured I'd rec some fics that Alya fans might appreciate! She's not necessarily the main character in all of them, but if she isn't the MAIN main character, then she's still a major character (and almost certainly POV character) in her own right in the fic. I'm only reccing completed fics for this, btw. If anyone knows the tumblr name for any of the authors involved, let me know!

Also I have a blog dedicated to Alya at alyappreciation, so check that out if you're interested!

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In Direct Opposition by @generalluxun

Alya Cesaire is a brand new student to Francis Dupont, to Paris even. The first student she meets is one Chloé Bourgeois, and Alya is determined to make a friend. Things advance Chaotically. Her new 'friend' is definitely a handful, and suddenly Paris has a supervillain and two brand new superheroes! Alya finds herself balancing a lot of things, trying to live up to her ideals and those of her icons. And then reality seems to contradict itself. As time progresses it seems to happen more often. Becoming a hero, battling villains, staying alive, working through friendships. Something is lurking, tweaking events at times, changing them, and no one seems aware. Alya will need all her wits to get to the bottom of this. Her investigative mind can only get her so far though, and then she needs to rely on her friends. This is not a foe you can beat head on.

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Alya's Guide To Surviving A Magical Terrorist Which You Can't Remember by PumpkinPatchworkQuilt

In a world where the fight against Hawkmoth is kept secret from the public, one Alya Césaire sets out to bring the whole thing to light, (and possibly win a journalism award while she's at it)

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Hold Me By Both Hands by @angelofthequeers

“I know he said never to take you back,” Plagg mutters. “But he’d change his tune if he knew.” He looks Adrien straight in the eye and, more serious than Adrien’s ever seen him before, says, “There’s someone you gotta meet. He’s been looking for that book for ages.” How differently might the events of season 2 have gone if Adrien had also known of Master Fu from the start?

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Vantage Point by @ashes555

Most of the time, with more information, life get easier and things make more sense. But Alya discovers that sometimes, knowing everything is just plain complicated.

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Trust by bi_skyes

They thought that because they believed Lila’s lies, they would not be trustworthy to Ladybug anymore. They thought wrong.

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Closure by bi_skyes

After the events of “Trust”, Alya tries to find closure.

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Lean In by Rachelea3

Marinette spills her secret, and Alya does the only thing she can do.

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Alya Cesaire Should Be Allowed To Swear by @stripesandblossoms

Akuma attacks don't stop just because Alya is no longer a Hero, but that's fine, because she can still help clear civilians from the danger zone. Even celebrity-friends like Adrien Agreste.

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Justifying the Means by @ashes555

When the worst happens, Alya finds that she may be willing to do the unthinkable. Is any sacrifice to big to make for her friends?

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Accidents Are Also Miracles by @liiinerle

After some turbulent days that end with five people knowing her secret identity as Ladybug, Marinette loses faith in her ability to keep herself hidden. Wracked with doubts and insecurities, she pleads with Alya to take over as Scarabella, and tries to disconnect from heroing altogether. Along the way, she starts to date Kagami. Hard as she tries, though, she can't stop worrying - especially not once Monarch takes a particular, and personal, interest in her. At the same time, Alya tries to adjust to her new role while she works to uncover who Monarch really is, and makes some realisations about her own wishes. Kagami struggles against a controlling and abusive parent, and a girlfriend who seems bent on destroying herself - with or without Monarch's involvement. And in the meantime, Alix keeps popping her head back in with offers to help (because cool though time travel is, she misses hanging out in her own time). [Contains some spoilers for early s5 episodes, but otherwise diverges significantly from the plot of the season.]

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Alya's Amended Guide For Internet Safety (The RPF Remix) by @redrikki

Alya hadn’t meant to fall down the Ladynoir fic rabbit hole. It just happened. She didn't mean to make Ladybug to read fic about herself either. That just kind of happened too.

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You Are Just A Grin by Midnightdemonht

Oblivio was the only one to need a second separation, even after the butterfly was torn away.

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the best laid plans (of bugs and bakers) by @mexicancat-girl

Paris is buzzing with the appearance of a new ladybug-themed hero, Scarabella. Alya decides to use her second hero identity to help her best friend Marinette. A bit of her flirting with Marinette is bound to make Marinette's crushes jealous and finally ask her out! Her plan is fool-proof…! Except when it's not. Not enough people are talking about Scarabella flirting with Marinette. How can Alya properly help her best friend if the news can't be bothered to cover Marinette's budding romance with Scarabella and only posts things about Marinette with Chat Noir?! So Alya puts her all into her plan, upping up her flirting each time she appears as the newbie hero Scarabella. This totally does not backfire in any way.

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Radio Silence by @into-september

When an inexplicable change between Marinette and Adrien brings the two closer than ever, Alya is left on the outside of a secret too confounding to be about cheesemaking or puppy love. [No S4 AU]

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Creative Lies and Destructive Truths by @azuriteartist

Alya and Lila are two sides of a never-ending fight. The fight between truth and lies, between honesty and deception, between justice and personal gain. And now they have the powers to elevate that fight to a city-wide level. Can Alya stop the deception before it destroys the city? And can Lila stop the truth before it destroys her?

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The Investigation by @11jj11

Adrien and Marinette are finally dating-- which is what Alya has always wanted... but yet this sudden transformation in their relationship overnight? Things aren't adding up. They are suddenly so much closer than they ever have been before, Adrien is apparently a flirt, Marinette is no longer a stuttering mess, and not to mention the nicknames that came out of no where. Alya is happy for her friends, but she knows there's something more going on, and the reporter in her is going to get to the bottom of it.

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Cat Naps by BookGirlFan

Chat Noir doesn't care if he dies temporarily. Alya's starting to think he doesn't care if he dies permanently. Marinette's way too stressed for this, so it's up to Alya to find out why Chat Noir's willing to let his cat naps turn into the long sleep.

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Where were you the first time you were possessed? by @zanzquest

It should be an easy assignment: write about the first time a ghost took over your body to make varying degrees of mischief. There’s just one issue: Alya hasn’t been possessed yet.

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Is it chill that you're in my head? by @bringthestorm

Alya stared at the picture plastered across the homepage of every single tabloid and news site, whispering every curse she could think of under her breath. SHOCKING SECRET ROMANCE BETWEEN LADYBLOGGER AND PARISIAN SUPERVILLAIN REVEALED!!! the headline announced, casually shouting the words she had been dreading for all of Paris to read. --- Alya had always assumed that someday Paris would discover that she had secretly been kissing their most wanted vigilante, but she had never thought it would happen so soon. As the domino effects of her relationship with Ladybug go spiraling through her life, Alya turns her sights towards the one responsible: the elusive superhero Hawkmoth. AKA Someone outs Alya and her girlfriend so she retaliates by deciding to take down Hawkmoth 

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Lady and the Fox by @ck2k18

Marinette and Alya, known to their subscribers as “Ladybug” and “Rena Rouge,” have a popular cooking vlog using their parents’ kitchens. While moderating comments, Alya realizes that their viewers assume the two anonymous hosts are a couple, and it causes her to look at her relationship with Marinette in a new light.

(punch punch) fall in love by @mexicancat-girl

One day, Sabrina walks up to Alya. Alone. No Chloe in sight. Sabrina wants to learn self defense. Alya agrees to teach her. Alya ends up getting way more invested than she originally thought she'd be, because Sabrina is a quick learner and sometimes her smile makes Alya's insides go weak.

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When I Grow Up by waltzofthewifi

-I want to be a superhero." The class stifled laughs. "But superheroes aren't real!" Someone called out. A look through Alya's life. One-shot.

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disconnected by just_an_ordinary_fan

Lady Wifi believes she might be the only one who does not want to obey Hawkmoth's orders. When she sees another akuma hesitate in the battle, she finds she might not be entirely alone.

Walking that Mile by @nomolosk

Nino and Alya wake up in the wrong bodies. Several things result from this, including, but not limited to, identity reveals and a better understanding of what their respective best friends are going through.

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(may we write it all down) in cursive light by @sunfoxfic

Since retiring as a journalist, Alya hasn't been involved in an interview in several years. But now that her identity is out, that's about to change.

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Strangely Familiar by @sunfoxfic

Alya Césaire’s life is perfect. Indeed, between the success of the Ladyblog, how well she’s doing in school, and the fact that she’s a superhero who has never bore the weight of a crisis of epic proportions, her life almost couldn’t be better. Almost. But Alya has always been a go-getter, and so she’ll chase after that perfect life if it kills her. Which is how she ends up rushing to move out of her father’s apartment and in with Marinette, Adrien, and a complete stranger: Nino Lahiffe. And in fact, her life does seem perfect — she and Nino are fast friends. They spend a lot of time together and get to know each other really well. But in the end, fortunate situations will bear unfortunate truths, and she learns things about herself that aren’t quite comfortable. Like I said, though: Alya has always been a go-getter, and she won’t let new feelings deter her from chasing after her perfect life.

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Trust your instincts by @ultrakart

Alya has the instincts of a fox. Nino finds it hilarious.

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Foxy Lady by WizardlyMagik

In which Nino finds himself unexpectedly attracted to Rena Rouge, tries and fails to tell his friends and get some advice, and desperately attempts to hide it from his girlfriend. (Who in fact, is planning to use it to her advantage)

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No One Can See Us Here, Alone; or, The Behaviors of Binary Stars by artEngine

"Yeah, about that," Nino turns to fall in step with her out the door, "Hows about we take a small break from the quests? Chillax, enjoy our money and things?" "You say that now," Alya eyes him from the corner of her vision, "but would you still say that if I told you this special quest was to find a hidden genie for three free wishes?" "Dude. Yes." "Fine. Look, I promise to chill if we go on this quest. Okay?" Nino narrows his eyes down at her pleading expression. This dialogue is suspiciously familiar. Somehow, he gets the feeling that this time will be different. And for some reason, he listens to that feeling. "You're lucky I like you," he concedes. Alya hip-checks him with a winning smile. "That I am." : : A series of Alya and Nino's exploits as a part of the 10,000 gamers who found themselves trapped in Akihiko Kayaba's VRMMORPG game, Sword Art Online. For AU April with the Miraculous Fanworks Discord. (Knowledge of and/or interest in SAO or ALO is not required to enjoy this fic)

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well somewhere along the way in our words i must've gotten lost by @noirshitsuji

Beelya where Queen Bee visits the Césaire house after Alya writes an article about her fighting Mr. Pigeon alone. Normally Chloé would like the publicity but Alya had titled it ‘The Birds and the Bees’. After that she ends up coming back to complain about her mother. And her father. And about the fact that her oldest friend seems uncomfortable around her. Her visits becomes weekly, then almost nightly. (Don’t forget to include Chloé redemption (and some “Bee Movie” jokes).) * Alya isn’t quite sure how she ended up here, in a place where she isn’t even surprised Chloé would seek her out to talk about her dad, where she wouldn’t even mind her doing so, where she would expect it, where she would– (–thud. She might be in trouble.)

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Me, My Best Friend, and Her Cat by @ladyofthenoodle

Ladybugs aren't known for being particularly sneaky. Good thing this Ladybug has a fox in her corner, watching her back. (And giving Ladybug's love life a nudge along the way. Maybe more than a nudge. In Alya's defense, Ladybug can use all the help she could get.)

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Best Laid Plans by @captorations

Alya Césaire had always known she was going to be a superhero one day. She even had a rather unique plan to protect her secret identity, and it worked like a charm. But tricksters have to be careful, lest they end up tricking themselves.

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Outfoxed by @captorations

Lila Rossi is not a Miraculous wielder. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have power. Alya was under her spell, along with so many others, until the day Lila unknowingly overstepped herself. Freed at last, the true Fox recognizes magic when she sees it, even if it doesn’t come from a source she understands. She is none too happy about this pretender abusing her natural gifts to make fools of Alya and those she loves. Alya Césaire might need an enchanted necklace and the aid of a tiny deity to cast illusions, but she swore to use her borrowed abilities for the greater good long ago. There is none better suited to facilitate the liar’s downfall. And maybe she’ll help her best friend sort out her increasingly complex love life along the way.