#the Inspector's intervention

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

In ‘The Arse of Good’, a simple people worshipped an artificial intelligence named Herma,

not realising that it had actually enslaved them to its own ends, and only the Inspector’s unplanned visit freed them from Herma’s control.

[lovewillthaw-j]

Gayatri is a Gwen variant

RIP TASM2 Gwen 😢

[tenth-sentence]

'I don't think that's necessary,' the inspector intervened.

"The Hungry Moon" - Ramsey Campbell

[keferon]

Getting lost (part 2/?)!!

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The humans were really weird today, they had treated him to a meal in addition to the frozen fish he got every day, and he had done nothing! His pool was closed to the public, which only happened when he had a medical appointment and he hated them. The feeling of apprehension clouded his thoughts, it steamed in his belly, resonated in his heart before intruding into his flesh and bones, filling his being with a tugging, a curious desire to search, to understand. With this thick cloud blocking his little world of thoughts and the many staff members circling around his waters, he only wanted one thing: answers.

He would have asked, he COULD have asked, but humans didn't like that. He often tried to talk to them, but the more words came out of his mouth, when his language went beyond simple things like "eat" and "hello", their gaze withered, in the same way that an overwatered flower would have done. The truth brushed the veil of their thoughts before being quickly rejected for coos of joy and excitement at the new words that the orca had learned. And they couldn't really hear him anyway, people he recognized as veterinarians thanks to their green outfits were standing behind the glass of his indoor aquarium and not on the platform they normally used above the water. It felt more like a check-up than a real intervention and he thanked all the deities he knew for that! But no verbal interaction for him.

That still didn't explain why his part of the aquarium was closed. The keepers liked to do their check-ups in public, and honestly it, reassured him not to be alone during them. Being alone made him feel empty, there was nothing to do, nothing to say....just him and himself. He loathed when his body became numb from inactivity, when even his emotions mixed in the melancholy of his thoughts to become nothing but noise without purpose or words. He knew that the more the days passed, the more the little world he tried to keep in a corner of his head crumbled and that one day it would end up collapsing. That day, he will have gotten lost deep enough to never get out again, and there are days when he wonders if he would do better to swim faster to the bottom, to stop the internal bomb that was sleeping inside him, to let the ticking of the clock stop for good and to finally be at peace.

Little taps on the surface brought him out of thoughts he didn't want to have, that he tried as best he could to hide. It was his signal, maybe everything wasn't completely different today? Without hesitation he gave a simple tail swipe that propelled him without any real force towards the air. It was much too hot for his taste, one of the big disadvantages of summer, which made him think that they hadn't provided him with any enrichment with ice recently, maybe they didn't have enough for the whole park? His gaze fell on his regular keeper, Brice, who gave him a gentle pat on the top of his head between his ears.

"Hi buddy"

He cooed before throwing him a fish from a basin placed next to him. Jazz caught it on the fly, creating waves under his weight that soaked the keeper from head to toe, making him laugh. He liked to make people laugh, he was good at it, and he knew that the more he did it, the more humans would come and the less alone he would be. While eating his meal (they were really generous today), he saw Brice talking to the veterinarians who had been behind the window a few moments earlier but also to other people he didn't recognize, inspectors perhaps? In any case, their conversation was clear, even if the humans, as usual, didn't suspect that he was listening.

"Are we sure that the procedure is possible?

- One hundred percent, Jazz is completely docile and has no wounds that could be infected by a mystery disease from the other.

- The new mer is clearly not docile, he has been trying to escape since he woke up. I recommend a gentle approach, a quick first contact so that they assimilate each other."

The orca's ears perked up and his food froze in his throat. A new mer? Here?? He seemed to pause in his rapid descent into the heart of his mind, a pause in the chaos as the numbers of the bomb stopped decreasing, all to listen, to confirm the growing feeling in his chest. Hope? Fear? Stress or just pure denial that something like this could happen? In his head, a new melody began to write itself.

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-🦇🐧

Part 2 is less poetic, I didn't have the strenght for it🥲 hope you still like it!

OOOOOOOOOAAAHHHHH I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT SO MUCH DKLDNFKELNDHFKF

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

How successful would Inspector Javert…

Propaganda for the mic skills:

Generally has zero charisma, but occasionally has the best one liners. Example from the book: the Gorbeau House raid scene. Example from the musical: Javert’s Intervention.

/

/

/

Propaganda for the wrestling skills:

I mean, I don’t know if he could actually win a match, but that would definitely be part of the fun. To understand this, just watch any performance of The Confrontation after 2015.

/

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/

Would you like to submit a character? Click this link if you do!

[everythingblackblack]

If Shinichi met Kuroba Kaito what would he think of him? Would he know of him from his mother (ignoring the cousins thing)? From Hakuba? Does he figure out he's Kid?

I think it depends a lot on the context, if there's no intervention from anyone, and we say that these two just meet on the street, Shinichi might think that Kaito is suspicious.

It's already been said that Shinichi has some kind of radar on KID, so it's likely that he senses it, but can't quite place it at first.

On the other hand, I feel that Kaito's internal dialogue would be "Damn, damn, he's here… I need to get out of here!", but of course, Shinichi wouldn't let him go that easily. __________________

It would definitely be fun if it was for his mother! I can see Shinichi arriving home, and then he sees a guy his age having tea with his mother in the garden, Yukiko makes the introductions: "This is Kaito Kuroba, he's basically my brother disciple, and he's also the son of my master, Toichi Kuroba, say hello to your uncle, Shinichi!" And on the other hand, Shinichi would start putting two and two together, Toichi Kuroba is a magician who passed away, master in the art of disguise, and he has a son his age, then he would shout… "You're Kaitou KID!" Then Yukiko would scold him because she doesn't want him to bother her guest. Kaito would joke that "I have a cute nephew now". _________________

Personally, I'm not a fan of Hakuba constantly pointing at Kaito as KID, so I don't think Hakuba would drag Shinichi around to get a second opinion on his prime suspect. Hakuba doesn't need it, and Kaito is his prey! He told him so himself! "Don't let anyone else catch you."

However, I think he would just enjoy the chaos happening around him, intervening slightly to divert Kudo's attention and annoy Kaito.

Hakuba will never confirm Shinichi's suspicions about Kaito, but he won't deny the obvious either. I imagine the following conversation:

"You've known him longer than I have, is he KID?"

Hakuba takes a sip from his cup of tea, falls silent, and ponders his answer.

"Inspector Nakamori said he suspected him once, but eventually withdrew the accusation because KID disguised himself as Aoko, certainly, using Kaito's face just to annoy Inspector Nakamori isn't that far-fetched."

Shinichi thinks about it and he's right, KID has disguised himself as Ran before to annoy him… Even himself!

There's something about the whole situation that doesn't sit right with him, but he decides to let it go for now.

I feel like Shinichi comes back to Hakuba later, saying things like "The guy is very suspicious" and Hakuba just thinks "I know" but doesn't say it and just asks "Well, do you have any evidence?", Shinichi replies "Just circumstantial", and Hakuba would say "That's not much use."

As Shinichi leaves, Kaito comes up behind him, but before he can say anything, Hakuba steps in front of him and says, "KID is my target, I won't share it, but in a heist I won't be so lenient."

"You're as creepy a detective as ever, but anyway, I don't care what you were talking about with that guy, Aoko wanted to treat you to dinner." Kaito feels very relieved even though he doesn't show it.

Kaito has animosity towards Hakuba, but Hakuba doesn't have those kinds of thoughts for him, so, I think if Shinichi were to intrude too much on his territory (outside of a heist), Hakuba would start investigating him, I imagine:

"You don't seem to come around Ekoda a lot?"

"I'm investigating a suspect."

"Now that you mention it, I think you're a bit suspicious."

"What do you mean?"

"Let me explain this another way. Don't you think it's suspicious that you disappeared for a whole year for a case and then had sporadic appearances here and there? The media says you were very focused on solving it, but it's strange… I don't think a case this complex would give you enough free time."

"The police can tell you, there's a whole file, and of course, I sometimes came to visit my friends and family."

"That's not what Hattori told me."

"I don't know where you're going with all this."

"I'm not interested in your secrets, but if you're intruding on my territory, I hope you're prepared for me to enter yours."

"Is that a threat?"

"A promise."

"All for a thief?"

"He's not just a thief, he's my secret to uncover, my puzzle to put together and I'm not going to share it, I won't stop your investigation, but I won't let you catch him either, I'm the only one who can catch him." __________ It wasn't intentional, but the writing has so many HakuKai vibes, I love Hakuba and he's so cool, I can't help but think of him as a mastermind who secretly loves chaos. I'm so sorry if this is so out of character, I got carried away.

[crowleysgirl56]

Wildest dreams wishes for Good Omens Season 3/finale which will probably not come true but I can still hope hey!

Number 48

I’m at it again with a combination of Muriel/Crowley shenanigans and dialling the silly right up to 11! AND it’s the first time I’ve written from Muriel’s POV!

This week’s wildest dream wish can also be considered as a continuation on from my last wish, my first AO3 contribution The Wrong Bookshop.

Now as my previous story was inspired by leaked BTS pics, it’s understandable that some people may not have read it. You do not need to have read The Wrong Bookshop to follow or enjoy the below story. You can just read it as a bit of a mystery and a fun story. Let me know if I should maybe also pop it on AO3.

So without further ado, may I present wildest dream wish number 48:

Muriel vs The Telephone.

The sound was incessant. Insistent. Increasing in volume. Okay, it wasn’t doing that last one, but it felt like it! Most importantly, it wasn’t stopping. Clutching at the cushions, Muriel peaked up from behind the sofa, knuckles white and eyes wide with trepidation.

“I’m sorry, but Mr Crowley isn’t here! He’s usually the one to talk to you. I don’t know what to do!”

The pleading made no effect. The ringing sound continued.

Muriel considered themselves a…good angel. They were of course happy in Heaven. How could they not be? It was Heaven! Everyone in Heaven simply must be happy! Because if they weren’t happy, then that would be bad, right? So Muriel knew being in Heaven made them happy.

But since coming to Earth, to the bookshop, they soon realised they hadn’t truly understood what Happy meant before. And the books! Oh, the books! They’d taught them so much, so many more words, words just for happy! Elated, serene, joyful, jovial, sublime. Cheery was Muriel’s favourite. The word resonated with them on an almost spiritual level. It fit their demeanour like a warm snug jumper knitted especially for them.

Which was why they thought it odd that the demon Crowley would want to spend so much time with them. Mr Crowley was the antithesis of cheery. Dark scowls and darker moods, Mr Crowley would skulk in the shadows, seemingly attempting to suck the cheery from the bookshop. It only made Muriel determined to beam all the brighter.

Mr Crowley’s sudden appearance a month after the Supreme Archangel had left for Heaven took the young scrivener by surprise. They had been practising their Cheery with what Maggie had explained to them was “a customer”, just about to make their first sale, when a tall and lanky thunder of black stormed the bookshop. With a mood billowing fire and smoke, Crowley snapped his fingers and growled into the prone human’s serene face “You just remembered you have an incredibly important appointment right now, in Leeds!”

As the human robotically marched from the bookshop Crowley had rounded on Muriel.

“We. Don’t. Sell. The bookssss!” Each consonant punctuated with pops and hisses.

“But isn’t that what a bookshop is for?” Muriel was finding all these rules on Earth quite confusing.

“It’s not that kind of shop.” Crowley mumbled.

“Oh! Like Maggie and how she doesn’t sell any records!”

Muriel could have sworn they saw a smirk cross Crowley’s face.

“Tell me Inspector Constable, how much do you know about wine?…”

The next 6 months Muriel was taken through a crash course of bookshop opening hours (“they’re more of a concept than actual timeframes”), dealing with customers (the string of profanities emanating from Crowley at the idea of selling a book to anyone were automatically bleeped from Muriel’s brain thanks to Heavenly intervention), and general store upkeep (“Mr Crowley, I don’t think you’re supposed to throw the books”).

The telephone however firmly remained in the domain of Mr Crowley. As such, Muriel currently found themself in a predicament they were unsure of how to manage.

“What do I do?!” they pleaded again with the device.

The whirring of the gramophone caught Muriel off guard. A jaunty tune, something about a good old fashioned lover boy, competed for attention over the ringing telephone. Crowley’s voice crackled from the brass trumpet-like speaker, piercing the cacophony.

“Muriel! Pick up the phone!”

“R-right!” Muriel tentatively stepped over to the desk and picked up the entire device, base and all.

“The receiver! Pick up the receiver!” Crowley groaned, his static-y tones still transmitting through the gramophone.

“The- what?!”

“The little handle thingy! Pick it up!”

“Oh yes!” Muriel picked up the receiver then placed it to their ear, the way they’d seen Mr Crowley do multiply times before. They put on their best Cheery.

“Fell and Co Bookshop! We probably don’t have what you’re look-“

“Muriel it’s me!” The gramophone wound to a halt as Crowley’s voice finally came through the handset.

“Oh Mr Crowley! Why are you calling on the telephone?”

“Because I need to talk to you don’t I!” Crowley’s voice exuded exasperation.

Muriel frowned, which was quite unusual for them.

“Then why didn’t you just keep speaking to me through the music player?”

Crowley’s silence was deafening and for a moment Muriel considered perhaps he had hung up. They had to hold the phone piece away from their ear once Crowley finally burst out, “There’s no time for that now!”

Muriel stifled a giggle as Crowley went on.

“Muriel, I need you to listen carefully. I need you to find me a book.”

Muriel glanced around the shop, murmuring an elongated uuuuuhhhhhhh. Crowley pressed on.

“Don’t worry, just listen. Towards the back of the shop, you’ll find a shelf marked encyclopaedias. Find the People’s Cyclopedia of Universal Knowledge Volume 1. It’s a kind of a thick medium sized book, with a hard brown cover.”

Muriel deflated as they continued to look around the shop. “To be fair Mr Crowley, you’re describing a lot of the books.”

“Just tell me when you’ve found it!”

Muriel placed the phone down then raced to the area Crowley described. Tucked away in the furtherest back corner, the shelf in question was hidden from view of the main area of the shop. It certainly seemed as if no one, not even Aziraphale, had been in this part of the shop for some time. A thick layer of dust caked the shelves and books. The smell of musty paper mingling with wood and tea clung to the air, giving a sense of heaviness and oppression. This section did not feel like the rest of the shop. If Muriel didn’t know any better, they’d say it almost made them feel unhappy. Or scared. Like this part of the shop was trying to repel them. However, they had a job to do and so pressed on. Scanning the shelves it didn’t take long (luckily) for their eyes to fall upon the book in question.

Pulling it from its hiding place, Muriel held the book aloft in triumph and raced back to the telephone. Funny. They could have sworn they heard something rattle within the tome.

“Got it!” they sang into the phone.

“Good job Inspector Constable. Open it. It should be hollowed out…please tell me it’s still there.”

As Crowley murmured the last sentence to himself, Muriel couldn’t help but feel pleased at the affectionate nickname Crowley had endowed upon them. It made them feel, for the first time, that they were truly a part of something. They carefully lifted the cover and, though warned by Crowley, was still surprised at the desecration of the book. But there, nestled inside the hollow was a small strange looking object.

“There’s a funny metal shaped thing in here.” they confirmed.

Crowley hissed between his teeth in a long relieved sigh.

“Good. That’s a bullet. Do not lose it!” He punctuated out the last sentence for emphasis. Muriel carefully placed the bullet back inside the book.

“What’s it for?”

Crowley took a moment to answer.

“…Insurance.”

Muriel took a deep breath and pressed the book and its seemingly precious contents to their chest.

“What do you need me to do now?”

“I need you to get to Edinburgh. Quick as you can. But no miracles! Can’t risk them tracking you.”

“T-they?” Muriel stammered. They were excited for this mission but also couldn’t help feeling apprehensive.

“Heaven Muriel. I’ll explain when you get here. Anyway I’m sending you something. Should be coming through the gramophone now.”

With a whoosh and a click, a paper ticket popped out the gramophone’s horn. Muriel grabbed it tentatively.

“What’s this?”

“A train ticket. Don’t worry. You’ll like trains.”

“Ok. I can do this! I’ll bring the book and the bullet and the picture!”

“Wait. What picture?”

“The picture that was in the book.”

Muriel heard Crowley’s breath quicken. A slight trembling quality permeated his voice as he continued.

“Can you- can you describe the picture Muriel?”

“It’s you and Mr Aziraphale. He looks very funny. Wearing a hat and cape!”

Crowley made a series of stifled noises. Muriel could have sworn they heard a muffled “Angel” choked out on the other end of the line, but thought better than to mention anything.

“Yeah. Yeah bring that too. Quick as you can now Muriel.” Crowley repeated thickly.

Muriel once again put on their best Cheery. “I won’t let you down Mr Crowley.”

They could have sworn they could hear the smile through the phone. “I know Inspector Constable.”

There was a click and once more silence enveloped the shop.

Muriel placed the receiver back in its cradle. They set a determined look on their face, pressing the book just that little bit more firmly to their chest, then strode from the bookshop.

They would accomplish this mission! For Crowley. If it was the last thing they’d do.

Thank you for reading! Comments and thoughts are always welcome.

If you would like to catch up on any past wildest dream wishes please feel free to visit the index in the pinned post of my blog!

And finally tagging @goodomensafterdark hope you guys enjoy!

[bruceburgdorf]

Trautloft and the rescue from Buchenwald

In August 1944 a group of 168 allied airmen from a number of different counties found themselves in Buchenwald concentration camp. It is certain they would have been executed there if it wasn’t for the aid of a Luftwaffe officer, Hannes Trautloft.

The Luftwaffe had a responsibility for the wellbeing of allied airmen shot down by their pilots over Germany or occupied territory. If a pilot was reported to have parachuted out of an aircraft, the responsible Luftwaffe squadron would ensure they were handed over to a unit close to where they landed who would then transport them to a prisoner of war camp.

The airmen in question upon bailing out over France, hid among the population in civilian clothes but were unfortunately betrayed to the gestapo by a foreign double agent posing as a member of the resistance but working for the Nazis.

As they were not in uniform they were treated as spies and taken to Buchenwald concentration camp instead of a POW camp stated in the Geneva Convention. As can be imagined the men were treated extremely harshly in the camp and were informed by the guards they would not be getting out alive.

Through another prisoner with outside contacts, a message was smuggled out and the whereabouts of the airmen became known to Hannes Trautloft, a Colonel in the Luftwaffe and then Inspector of the Day Fighters. Concerned at what he had learnt, the man arranged a visit to the camp pretending to be inspecting recent bomb damage.

He was told by the camp staff that it was a political prison and a labour camp. He was only shown the guard’s areas and clean parts of the camp and not where the prisoners were being held but across the camp he heard a man shouting to him from behind the fence and pleading for his intervention.

The guards tried to get Trautloft to leave but instead the Colonel told them to stand back while he listened to the man tell him about the 168 airmen who had been transported to the camp illegally and about everything which was happening within the camp.

Trautloft eventually had to leave but escalated the matter to Luftwaffe General Adolf Galland and with the backing of officers Galland, Steinhoff and Rödel he pushed for the airmen‘s release. Trautloft was reportedly so shaken up by what he has seen in the camp he personally wrote to the Buchenwald commandant saying the men better be in good condition upon their release.

In a few days the men were released where they were taken to Stalag Luft 3 but records of Buchenwald found after the war would show the men had been scheduled for execution by the guards just seven days after Trautloft s arrival at the camp.

Trautloft would go on to become a general in the modern German airforce.

There is a documentary about the airmen called The Lost Airmen of Buchenwald and the event is also mentioned in A Higher Call, based on the life of pilot Franz Stigler.

[fantasticstrangetimetravel]

The Police Are Everywhere.

In Chapter 2, we see Kaito more interested in his new identity than in the rest of the world. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he barely noticed the attention he'd drawn and was embarrassed by it.

Aoko feels embarrassed by his actions, scolds him for not behaving in class, and Kaito complains that he's butting into her business.

So far, this can be seen as a normal interaction between two friends.

And it also shows a few things about their personalities, such as the fact that Kaito is a much more carefree person (he's completely ignoring his class) and Aoko is more serious and dedicated to her studies.

In the first chapter, it was shown that both Kaito and Aoko are equally intelligent, and it's worth noting that later in the manga, it's revealed that Kaito has an IQ of 400, so I'll assume Aoko is the same in that regard.

Therefore, Aoko may not need to pay that much attention in class, yet she does. This suggests responsibility, and she can be seen taking notes in the panel above, suggesting it could be real.

Aoko assumes that Kaito was reading the newspaper for the princess, probably because he came with that in mind from his house (Since at the beginning of the chapter we could see Inspector Nakamori dealing with the European detective), although Kaito accuses her of being jealous, in reality, Aoko seems more worried (as if her mind was somewhere else) which is demonstrated shortly after.

Aoko shows concern for her father and confesses this to Kaito, demonstrating trust in their relationship. However, Kaito tramples on that trust by disparagingly referring to the inspector and minimizing Aoko's concerns.

This causes her to get angry with him, while Kaito continues to mock him.

Once again, I remind you that this is a gag manga, with 1980s humor, so we can't accurately judge it by today's standards.

Or well, we shouldn't, but since the manga has changed genres and adapted to the current era, it makes these scenes, which were seen from a humorous perspective, appear more serious.

This problem of coherence and cohesion is something that greatly affects the evaluation of both characters and their relationship, at least in the specific case of this essay, which aims and intends to be objective and impartial.

From a less objective perspective and more as a fan, I think people should just pick the characterization they like best and stick with it.

Kaito doesn't really seem sorry for his actions, until he meets the inspector, and realizes that his actions have consequences and these greatly affect the people around him.

I want to highlight this dialogue:

Although Kaito and Aoko are childhood friends, it seems odd that Inspector Nakamori would say this (I mean, his wife Midoriko even saw a magic trick performed by Kaito himself when he was young, and it's even stranger considering Nakamori has spent more time with him than Midoriko).

It's because of these kinds of comments that the interpretation of Kaito and Aoko as childhood friends doesn't quite add up, returning to the point that they do seem like friends, but not childhood friends.

Kaito vindicates the inspector by listening to his problems and advising him, but all this happens without Aoko's intervention.

He also makes sure to find a permanent solution to the situation so that no one doubts the inspector.

Although Kaito seems angry that the inspector received a kiss from the princess, in his rage he almost reveals his identity, causing him to deny attention by saying something, making Aoko feel embarrassed by him.

While Aoko is more than happy that her father is now okay.

[susandsnell]

did you see the current US les mis tour? i'm thinking of going (though i haven't bought tickets yet) and i'm curious about what might be in it for valvert enjoyers (including myself)

OH DID I EVER, FRIEND. It came to Canada this past summer and I cannot recommend getting tickets enough; it's possibly the best the show has ever been, and the cast is incredible. I didn't think I'd still be crying at it at this age and bam, Act 2 rolls around and there goes my painstakingly winged eyeliner.

Valvert is imo the most played up it's been, if you want to go in unspoiled I'll leave it at that, but I'll put more details after the cut. Spoilers/me being a cringe parody of myself below.

They've gone with both a lot more physical blocking between the two of them and a much more humanized Javert + book-accurately violent (albeit For Good Reason) Valjean than previous productions, all of which lends itself very well to the ship. Lot of lingering gazes in prison/grabs at each other, a genuine rapport between Maire Madeleine and the Inspector of Montreuil-sur-Mer, and then there's the Champmathieu trial through the Confrontation. Javert actively lunges for Valjean after his confession and the two leads I saw had such an intense chemistry you could see their eyes burning through that part.

As for the Confrontation, it's been choreographed/blocked to be a lot more suggestive violent than previously; there's a barely concealed smirk on Javert's face during "you'll wear a different chain" that I remember made me think "...my 12 year old self is thriving right now." Valjean doesn't snap until Javert tries to shackle him, at which point it goes into the whole "I am warning you, Javert!" bit. He uses that incredible, Brick-accurate Valjean strength to break free, deck Javert, and garrotes him with his own chain at the song's (heh) climax, until the man goes down to his knees, and if I'm not misremembering, he half-straddles his shoulder to keep him down. Before it gets into the "And this I swear to you tonight" bit, there's a good several moments of Javert left rolling on the ground writhing, gagging, and moaning (this would become a persistent thing as the show progressed) while still crawling towards Valjean, half-conscious and half-mad with obsession, reaching towards him. And then Valjean smashes his head into a wall, Liam Neeson in '98 style. I don't know what you go to the theatre for, but personally I do to see old men cry and beat the shit out of each other homoerotically.

Not much more happens in Act 1 (though the Intervention through Stars has as much reverence to it about the sanctity of their chase and their dynamic as it does the very structures Javert cannot fathom Valjean existing outside of - I think he presses his fingers to his lips a little on "Lord, let me find him" after crossing himself), but Act 2 at the Barricades is where things go wild again. There seems to be an Objectifying The Inspector agenda behind the scenes of this new production and I am here for it. Thus, please know that the Valvert barricade scenes take place with the mainstay of Javert having his shirt needlessly torn open/almost off by Les Amis / his ponytail getting dishevelled / him throwing his head back and moaning / panting at some points over the singing because he got his ass kicked again. Heavy, heavy appraisal in Valjean's "give me the spy Javert"/tugging on his bonds as he pulls him away to ostensibly take him out back like Old Yeller (for show for Les Amis, sure but I sensed a bit of spite/something else). And then Valjean's Forgiveness is just. Okay, so I got good enough seats to say that Javert is licking his lips during "How right you should kill with a knife."

What really made my jaw drop was that Javert, being played a lot more emotionally and erratically at this point, actually reaches with both hands once freed of his bonds to grab hold of Valjean's rifle by the mouth and pull it up to his head/press his whole chest into it on "shoot me now, for all I care". Which, yes, Imagery, but then you have them having a legitimate moment where Valjean firmly but gently pulls the gun away/him away from the gun, and holds his face/shoulder in a way I think was? Deliberately meant to echo the blocking of the Bishop during the whole "I have bought your soul for God" in the prologue. "There's nothing that I blame you for" is almost played as a realization despite the anguish Javert has put him through. As for the sewers through the end, each man is played as having increasing realization of how much they are two sides of the same coin, but during the Soliloquy, you have Javert screaming out/sobbing some of his lines about Valjean and how dare he transcend the very structures that gave sense and shape to his world. It has to be seen to be believed.

Outside of this -- there's actually a lot more work done outside their interactions to parallel them. Javert and Gavroche are given a rapport meant to run alongside the Valjean-Cosette relationship where you see a Javert who's a lot more indulgently annoyed towards this cocky gamin than aggressive (they have such a cute, funny moment together after Look Down/Javert's Intervention bit, Javert's not even mad and more 'are you fucking kidding me I lost to an 8 year old' when Gavroche blows his cover). It pays off because they worked in him paying respects when he sees his body during the Bring Him Home instrumental as they did in the movie (albeit more organically, because the scene is staged from Javert's POV seeing all the bodies at the barricade + he stops over Gavroche, kneels to close the boy's still-open eyes, and with a stricken expression, makes the sign of the cross over his body), to the point that you absolutely get the impression Javert is seeing his younger, disadvantaged yet striving self in Gavroche. With the instrumental cue being Valjean's song of paternal feeling for Marius, the staging really drives home that Javert had so many opportunities himself to go through a similar journey of personal growth through fatherhood. And there's power in these parallels when they're not interacting, too!

All in all, they went all in on every character relationship in this production and I cannot recommend it enough. The costumes are beautiful, the sets/effects are phenomenal, and the orchestration reveals just how beautiful the score really is. Go see it!!!

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

While Emerald’s adoptive mum intervenes to block the Inspector from interrogating the young woman, Emerald’s phone rings.

Much to Emerald’s surprise, a producer from Glenn Hugill’s company has called with usual news.

‘He’s come into a load of money. Three million quid, I think he said. Left by a great-uncle he’d never heard of. Still, he’s up and quit. But, I assure you, we’ll do everything we can to get this project back on track. We’ll help you find your mum and dad.’

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Forty

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, fluff

— WORDCOUNT: 3.4k

— A/N: Here it is 💚 Finally at an end. Thank you to everyone who's been following this fic, and thanks again to @localravenclaw for requesting it for @esolean. It was a great adventure taking this story from prompt up to this point. It's been almost one year to the day since I started writing it, so it is fitting that the final chapter is posted now. I hope you all enjoy it!✨

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir @thiefofthecrowns

I

Tom was on a train, riding back to England. It wasn’t a dream anymore. His cabin seemed more comfortable than it did last time and the view outside was decidedly serene. There was no sign of the chaos that was unfolding back in Italy.

A warrant had been issued for Ambrogio Oso and the Swiss authorities fell under criticism for their obstinate lack of cooperation. The Italian police were convinced he’d struck a bargain with someone so that he would not face extradition. He was clearly connected with the Roman underground and old rumours of his involvement with the Mafia surfaced once more. Since the conflict involved the French-speaking part of Switzerland — Oso was said to have settled in Geneva — the Swiss asked for mediation from France, who delegated Mr. Jean Monnet to solve the issue. An evening paper in Rome described it as “an underhanded excuse to leverage the authority of the ECSC”, of which Italy was a member but not a more important one than France. This opened the door for all manner of political and economic experts to weigh in and stoke the already bubbling dissatisfaction with the ECSC as a whole.

Support for law enforcement in Italy was already wavering and the amount of resources being wasted to chase the suspect in the murder of a controversial aristocrat was seen as an insult to the public in a time of economic strife. The exchange rate with most foreign currencies, especially the dollar, remained pitiful, which no doubt contributed to the influx of spoilt and noisy Americans among other undesirables. The fiery murder of Baron Agarda at the hand of either an elderly employee or — the second most likely suspect — a young French national with a record of public indecency, was considered an act of divine intervention either way.

It amused Tom, thinking back now to how keen the inspector was to resolve the case specifically because of his yearning for public approval. He bit his lip to keep from chuckling as he read the Corriere Della Sera. Perhaps he would clip the article and keep it as a memento of his fun little vacation.

He had a moment of compassion for Donatien… Fleeing to Switzerland in the hope of reuniting with his erstwhile protector and would-be sponsor, Ambrogio. As soon as the boy was seen standing outside Casa Ur that day, the Carabinieri knew they had their man. Tom had only helped them confirm it. He so loved hot-headed people, their brains as soft as pudding. And it had certainly taught him a new respect for the art of invisibility. Of course, him planting Donatien’s ring with the bloodied clothes of Clement probably had more to do with it.

He sighed in quiet satisfaction and placed the paper aside. Before him sat the cursed book, the cause of all that trouble. The intrigue, the heartache, betrayal, and death. He supposed it was only fitting. Books like that had a destiny, and a price, and the will of their maker prevailed above the petty wants of their mortal caretakers. It just so happened that the price of the Delomelanicon was not gold or silver or banknotes, but blood… and a couple of souls.

The view outside his window never changed. They had crossed a frozen Italy softly veiled in white and now he couldn’t say exactly where they were. Maybe it was France already. He could see frozen vineyards in the distance and a crown of crows above. There was a light over everything spreading like spilt milk but it came from nowhere, no moon, no sun, as if the very sky was a gaping hole revealing a void of white. Perhaps there was a sea of souls behind that firmament and only in days as cold as this would they appear… But Tom could never count himself among their number. He had made sure of it, in more ways than one.

He could only imagine the furore that was to come in the magical community among those in the know once Burke let spread the word he had the book. Buyers will be crawling over each other like beasts in a pit, and it would likely fall to Tom to skin the price off of their monstrous backs. What’s another heirloom or two compared to sacred knowledge? Yes, he would not let this opportunity pass him by, not after everything he’d been through… And he knew of more than one collector who would part with precious relics for a chance to own that book. After all, demonic tomes that the Ministry knew nothing of had many uses for many wizards, and he intended to milk those amateurs for everything they had. Perhaps, he amused himself, he might get Mr. Malfoy to pay for it again — and no forged folds of muggle bills this time… Tom estimated he might even squeeze three Horcrux-worthy items from the old fool.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Just thinking of all the things we’ll get up to in London.”

“No, no, it wasn’t that kind of a grin.”

“Oh, was it not? What kind was it, then?”

She smiled and, like a cluster of writhing snakes, uncoiled to leave her nest of fur and scarves behind and join him on his side of the cabin. Tom kept her comfortable and warm, weaving around her soothing spells of warm fumes that smelled like her favourite tea and conjuring for her the most luxurious and soft accoutrements. After all, she would find precious little of any of it in London, especially in his cheap one-bedroom flat. And as a reward, she pinched his cheeks and ruffled his hair and smiled with love and adoration at him.

“That was a very bad idea kind of grin,” she said.

“So? It’s not like I ever got us in trouble before.”

“You mean aside from theft and murder and giving false statements to the Carabinieri?”

“Those, I’ll remind you, are exactly the sort of things that got us out of trouble.”

“And breaking my heart?”

“That was only temporary…”

“Well, you certainly made it seem not-so-temporary.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a compliment,” she grumbled.

Tom reached up and grabbed the back of her head, her hair soft beneath his fingers, and pulled her in for a kiss.

She understood why he’d done all of that. He knew she did… It was imperative that the Carabinieri have no idea they were together, especially if he wanted to make the inspector think he had been Donatien’s lover. He explained everything to her as he helped her hurriedly pack in the middle of the night before they made for the train station. It had been hours before she believed him but with that morning’s newspapers in their hands, she slowly accepted that Tom had done all of it for her. The lies he wove, once she saw them brought to completion, made as much sense to her as they must’ve done to the Carabinieri. An aristocrat running an underground network for rich old perverts, an illegal book trade, payments made in the form of boy flesh, love affairs and subtle murder, it was all easier to believe than magic and demonic books.

And although it hurt Tom to paint Ambrogio as the hero, he had to admit it was a neat little plan. It certainly worked well to draw suspicion away from her. The foolish inspector was only too eager to believe that a delicate lady like her would never hurt a soul. Of course, Tom knew better — poor Clement. She, however, still didn’t know that he knew about that. And that’s how it was going to stay. She may not have been blameless in her own mind, but she could at least imagine that her soul was still untainted in his eyes.

She sighed into his kiss and wrapped her arms around him, clinging to his neck, her soft body melting against his. Tom held her tightly, claws sinking in, as the train carried them further and further away. She was all his now and nobody could come between them anymore. He would find a way to live forever with her — and having the Delomelanicon opened paths for him that weren’t there before. And if anything, her being a muggle should work in his favour. Her mind was innocent, a blank sheet with no preconceptions, and for her, magic was still a wonderful thing. There was no good or bad, no right or wrong, it was all beautiful to her, and Tom would be there to watch her discover all of it, to teach her as she went through the same waves of wonder as he did as a child. Hers was the perfect mind to accept what he suggested without fear or prejudice.

She pulled away after a lazy patter of kisses and he caught her licking her lips when he opened his eyes. He smiled and brushed his thumb against her cheek. She looked positively drunk on love, just as he liked it.

“I can’t wait for you to see London… It’s a ruin, and atrocity. You’ll hate it just as much as I do,” he said with a smile.

“Are you sure I won’t be a burden?”

“Having second thoughts?” he chuckled. “We’re a long way from Rome already…”

“I just…”

She struggled to find her words. Tom waited, but he already knew what was on her mind.

“It will be the first time I’ll be useless,” she finally said.

He cupped her face, the warmth of her skin so intense against his skin it penetrated him to the bone.

“You will never be a burden,” he said. “I’ll teach you potion-making, there’s no silly wand-waving involved in that. You can dabble in alchemy too if you want. I’ve salvaged some books on it from the Baron’s collection just for you.”

“Want me to discover the Philosopher’s Stone to prove my love? Is that it, Tom?” she laughed.

“Great minds do think alike,” he grinned. “But no. You can prove it in far simpler ways.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a giggle as he pulled her in his lap.

II

They arrived in Paris. From there, they would have had to take another train to Callais and then the ferry, a tedious proposition after everything they’d been through.

“Are you glad to see it again?” he asked.

“I don’t know… It looks different this time.”

He cast a subtle charm on their suitcases to make them lighter and carried most of them out of the train station, diverting their course without even asking. They would not leave Paris that night.

It was a dizzying feeling, being free… Between the Italy job and returning to England, Tom could do as he liked. As for her, this was the first time in years she’d been out of a job and with him at her side, she could go anywhere, do anything, at least for a little while. He booked for them a fancy room at a hotel with a view of the Arc de Triomphe and they decided to see none of the places they’d seen before together.

They explored Paris as if they were strangers to it, stopping at the first café they spotted, going into antique shops tucked between old streets, sitting by modest fountains in parks with no name and petting every stray cat along the way.

On their second day, he took her to Montmartre without specifically saying why, and she was so used to the mysteries that surrounded him that she didn’t even ask.

“Are we still using fake money, by the way?”

“We are. But not where we’re going.”

“Pity. That taxi driver was really nice.”

“He fancied you.”

“Do you think so?”

“Have you ever known a Frenchman to be polite without good reason?”

“Well…”

“And don’t mention Donatien.”

“But he always was nice to me.”

“He was a thief and a liar.”

“But Tom, so are you.”

“I suppose you have a type, then.”

He took her to La Place Cache where he bought her sweets and trinkets. They were hardly more than parlour tricks, but it was real magic she could hold in her hands. Passing through the statue made her dizzy, but actually seeing the place, hearing the sounds, tasting what he bought her, was thoroughly intoxicating. Tom smiled, remembering something of what it was like for him to first see Diagon Alley. It was a weakness of his to want to impress her, and magic sure did that… The whole day, she spoke of nothing else. The littlest thing mattered so much to her and it made his heart grow ten times over in his chest.

“Can we get some of those moving photographs before we leave?” she begged with a jumping chocolate frog clutched in her hands, melting away.

“Of course we can. What of?”

“Something wild… Something beautiful. A scene of nature with swaying trees and drifting clouds and bunnies and deer passing by.”

He got her a pretty landscape photo of a forest and she spent the whole way back to the hotel looking at it, her head resting serenely on his shoulder. It helped Tom decide what they should do on their final day there.

She wanted to see something untamed, entirely different from the marble monuments of Rome, so Tom took her to the Vincennes Woods on the eastern outskirts of the city. It was an overcast day and nobody else seemed to be travelling there, which suited them just fine.

They got blissfully lost after fifteen minutes of wandering aimlessly about and kissed between the grey shrubs by the lake. They found strange mansions tucked among the trees, and statues, and a marble birdbath with an owl cleaning its feathers in it.

“I saw a lot of owls there…”

“Where?”

“Yesterday, on the magic street.”

“You mean La Place Cache?” he asked with a cocked brow.

“That’s the one. Why do they have so many?” she asked as she hooked her arm around his.

“We use them to send letters.”

“Owls?”

“They’re highly intelligent. Best sort of bird for it.”

“So do you have a mailing owl at home?”

“No, not anymore. I used to when I was at school.”

“What was its name?”

“Morgana. She was a great horned owl with black and grey plumage.”

“Awww!”

“She was very noisy. And a glutton. She ate half a rabbit once that she caught out in the field and dumped the carcass on my bed.”

“I love her.”

“Sold her when I was about sixteen, didn’t need her anymore. Bought a diary with the money.”

“I want a pet owl…”

“Well, that can be arranged,” he smiled.

Fallen leaves bunched up around their feet, softening their steps. The sky was all but covered by the crowns of high trees and birds sang all around them. Tom created motes of light that lit the path when the forest grew the thickest, and they kept on walking.

He found a snake to speak to as well, an innocent green grass friend hidden in a winter burrow. Tom bent down and called her over as he invited the snake into his palm. Her eyes shone as she watched him speak in Parseltongue.

“Can I learn that?” she asked.

“Afraid not. It has to be inborn.”

“Not fair!”

“Here,” he said, holding out the snake in the cup of his hands. “Hold her, she won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t know, Tom…”

“He said you’re very pretty.”

“Liar,” she mumbled, but took the new friend anyway.

It hissed and shivered pleasantly, its muscles coiling and relaxing.

Tom laughed. “She says your hands feel lovely. She wants to stay there.”

“Oh no… How can I ever put her down now? Poor snake, down in that cold, dirty hole in the ground…”

Tom hissed and told the snake to kiss her. It did, slipping its forked tongue out to tickle at her pinkie finger. She gasped and Tom could see her face light up with sweet affection.

“She is so darling! Tom, I want to keep her…”

“If only you liked my kisses that much.”

“I do. Shut up,” she smiled, gently starting to pet the snake’s small head with her thumb. “Tell her she’s pretty too. That she has lovely scales.”

Tom’s smile turned a little sharper. “I’m starting to regret introducing you two.”

“Tom, tell her!”

He sighed and with a toothy smile conveyed her praises to the snake. Its lithe body shivered in delight and it nuzzled the cushion of flesh beneath her thumb, tail curling around to hide its eyes.

“Awww, she’s shy!”

“What a showoff.”

“Don’t be jealous.”

“Why not?”

She petted it a while longer then bent to put the snake back on the ground. As it slithered into its home she covered the entrance lightly with leaves, tucking the creature away for the winter. As for Tom’s jealousy, she soothed that with kisses beneath the swaying tendrils of a willow tree while he played at being angry for a few moments longer.

They eventually found the path that led out of the forest with the sunset and she gathered acorns as they went. The last bus took them to the hotel and Tom forged enough French banknotes for a feast. Her sense of honour protested again, at least until the first eclair touched her lips. Tom’s lips followed close behind to lick the chocolate from the edges of her mouth.

III

The North Sea was sleek and docile, swaying them in unfeeling waves like children being lulled to sleep. The sky had disappeared again, taking the sun with it, and they were left once more with a white void above. Everything had a feeling of finality about it akin to being doomed to death, but there was a hint of resurrection too. For Tom, it was as if returning from the underworld. For her, beginning a new life.

Surrounded by other passengers going about their ordinary lives, the two of them felt like the carriers of a great secret — which in a way they were. The story in the papers about the hunt for Ambrogio kept evolving but on pages further and further in the back. Nobody had been speaking of it in France, and now three days later it was as if it never happened.

They were still full of sweets and wine and lazy from the night before but they treated themselves to the snacks on the ferry as well and fed treats to one another in a hedonist repose. When she got tired, she slid down to lay on Tom’s lap as they sat beside the window atop red cushioned seats.

“Do you think we’ll be happy in England?” she asked.

“I never was,” Tom shrugged. “Were you happy in Italy?”

“I think so,” she said. “I had friends there, you know. And I had you.”

“And you have me still.”

She looked up at him, her eyes catching his upside down, and smiled. Tom held her tighter, feeling suddenly possessive in the way he got when he thought of his old diary or his grandfather’s ring.

“Well then, here’s one reason to be happy.” He leaned down to brush his lips over her temple. “Even if you won’t be happy in England, you’ll never be miserable on your own again.”

Her giggle was a crystalline chime and she reached up to kiss him. She curled her fingers in his hair and held on like they were sleek black reins to let him feel her possessiveness as well. Tom parted from her lips and sighed, but smiled. She was in his arms, soft and comfy on his lap, sweet on his lips, and filled with love. She smiled back at him as her hand still lingered in his hair, twirling a stray lock around her finger.

“I can’t wait for us to be alone,” Tom said.

“I’m sure,” she cocked a brow.

But that wasn’t how he meant it.

“We’ll have an eternity together. You’ll see. At the end of time, there will only be the two of us left.”

He could tell she couldn’t quite understand, and even if she did, he wasn’t certain she’d approve yet. But then again, she didn’t need to. Tom brushed a strand of hair off of her forehead and smoothed his thumbs over her brows. He’d clear a path in her mind, just as he’d carved a place for himself in her heart, for immortality.

“You’ll see. I’ll make you want to spend eternity away. With me.”

“Oh, silly Tom. I already do.”

[beardedmrbean]

A Kenyan government minister has alleged that the country's national intelligence agency was behind the abduction of his son last year, as criticism against the rising cases of abductions continues.

Public Service Cabinet Secretary Justin Muturi said that it took a call by President William Ruto to have his son released by the National Intelligence Service (NIS).

Muturi is the first member of the cabinet to publicly criticise the government's handling of the spate of abductions in Kenya.

In a statement to the police crime investigations unit on Tuesday, Muturi gave a detailed account of how his son, Leslie, was abducted on 22 June last year.

Mr Ruto and the intelligence agency have not commented on his allegations.

At least 80 people, including the minister's son, have been abducted in the last six months, according to a state-funded rights group.

The wave of abductions started after protests against tax hikes last June, and have continued since then.

Some of those abducted have been released following public pressure.

Earlier this week, the minister told journalists that he had not received answers about the abduction of his son, despite reaching out to top security officials.

Muturi said the Directorate of Criminal Investigations (DCI) subsequently urged him to record a statement with them, telling him the matter was still under investigation.

In his statement to the DCI, Muturi recalled calling the inspector-general of police, the interior minister, the DCI head, the head of the intelligence agency and other top officials as he desperately looked for his son – but, he added, all were unable to help.

He said that he also messaged Ruto, but later decided to visit his official residence to raise the matter directly with him.

"I then narrated the ordeal [to the president] including my interactions with various senior government officials who had been unable to help. I expressed my belief that NIS was holding my son," Muturi said in the statement.

He said that the president made a joke about the issue and then made a call to the head of the intelligence agency, who promised to release his son in an hour.

"I heard the president ask [NIS director] Noordin Haji if he was holding my son. [He] confirmed that indeed he was holding my son and the president instructed him to release Leslie immediately," Muturi added.

Muturi has faced calls from some government-allied politicians to resign for publicly criticising the government in which he serves.

Foreign nationals have also been abducted, including prominent Tanzanian activist Maria Sarungi Tsehai, who on Monday narrated how she was kidnapped by armed men and released several hours later.

Last year, Ugandan opposition leader Kizza Besigye was kidnapped in Kenya's capital, Nairobi, allegedly by Ugandan security officials, and taken across the border for trial by a court martial.

Muturi's public mentioning of Ruto's name in connection with abductions is a defiant challenge to the president, and is seen as being against the principle of collective responsibility in government.

It has also fuelled speculation of a fallout in government, with other ministers and officials often denying that the abductions are being carried out by the state.

Amid public uproar, the president said towards the end of last year that "we are going to stop the abductions", while advising parents to instil good values in their children.

He has also warned young people not to use social media to disrespect leaders, amid continued widespread online criticism of the government.

[thoughtlessarse]

The cost of cleaning up toxic forever chemical pollution could reach more than £1.6tn across the UK and Europe over a 20-year period, an annual bill of £84bn, research has found. The number of British pollution hotspots is also on the rise. If emissions remain unrestricted and uncontrolled, the costs of cleanup will reach £9.9bn a year in the UK, according to the findings of a year-long investigation by the Forever Lobbying Project, a cross-border investigation involving 46 journalists and 18 experts across 16 countries. PFAS (per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances), commonly referred to as “forever chemicals” are a family of more than 10,000 human-made substances. Manufactured by a handful of companies, they are widely used in consumer products and industrial processes. They can be found in nonstick pans, pizza boxes, cosmetics, waterproof clothing, firefighting foam and pharmaceuticals, among other places. The properties that make them so useful – heatproof, greaseproof and waterproof – also have fateful downsides. Almost indestructible without human intervention and persistent in living organisms, PFAS have been linked to infertility, cancers, immune and hormone disruption, and other illnesses. PFAS are ubiquitous and have been detected in drinking water and surface waters across the UK, which makes the task of remediation huge and complex. Hotspots of contamination include landfills, airports, military sites, sewage outfalls, sewage sludge, manufacturers and industrial users of PFAS, and places where large amounts of firefighting foams have been used. The Drinking Water Inspectorate’s latest sampling found 278 examples where untreated drinking water exceeded maximum guidance levels, and a further 255,610 samples at levels where measures should be taken to reduce PFAS. Just to clean up existing legacy pollution in the UK, analysis has found it will cost an estimated £428m every year for the next 20 years, based on existing cost data. This would cover remediating contaminated soils, landfill leachate and to treat 5% of the drinking water in large water supply zones for just the two regulated PFAS compounds, PFOS and PFOA. These costs are conservative, as they only include decontamination costs, not socioeconomic costs or potential costs to the health system. It also assumes that PFAS emissions stop immediately.

continue reading

[dailymtgflavortext]

"This city could certainly use a bit more divine intervention." —Inspector Jillard

-Inspiring Overseer

[unpluggedfinancial]

Coinbase's Legal Battle with the SEC: A Push for Transparency and Clear Regulation

The ongoing tension between Coinbase and the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) has taken a new turn. In recent months, Coinbase has launched two significant legal actions against the SEC, reflecting the company's growing frustration with the regulatory environment for cryptocurrencies in the United States. These actions underscore the urgent need for transparency and clear rules in the rapidly evolving digital asset industry.

Lawsuit Over FOIA Requests

In June 2024, Coinbase filed lawsuits against both the SEC and the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC) for failing to comply with Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests. Coinbase's FOIA requests sought critical information on two fronts:

The SEC's View on Ethereum: Coinbase is particularly interested in how the SEC perceives Ethereum, especially after its transition to a proof-of-stake consensus mechanism. This shift has sparked debates about whether Ethereum should be classified as a security under current U.S. laws.

"Pause Letters": Coinbase also requested copies of "Pause Letters" referenced in an Office of Inspector General report. These letters could provide insight into the SEC's internal communications and strategies regarding the regulation of digital assets.

By taking legal action, Coinbase aims to compel these agencies to release the requested information. The company alleges that federal financial regulators are attempting to "cripple the digital-asset industry" and believes that greater transparency will shed light on the true motivations and actions of these regulators.

Petition for Rulemaking

The second significant legal action by Coinbase is its April 2023 lawsuit against the SEC, which seeks to force the agency to respond to a petition for rulemaking. Coinbase initially submitted this petition in July 2022, requesting formal guidance on the regulatory framework for the crypto industry. The SEC's prolonged silence prompted Coinbase to seek judicial intervention, hoping to secure a clear and actionable response.

This lawsuit highlights Coinbase's argument that the SEC's current approach—termed "regulation by enforcement"—is detrimental to the crypto industry. Coinbase asserts that the lack of clear rules creates uncertainty and stifles innovation. The company contends that formal guidance would provide the necessary clarity for businesses operating in the digital asset space.

Broader Context and Implications

These legal battles are part of a broader debate over the regulation of cryptocurrencies in the United States. The SEC has taken a stringent stance, asserting that most cryptocurrencies are securities and should be regulated as such. This perspective has led to numerous enforcement actions against various crypto companies, including Coinbase.

In March 2024, a federal judge ruled that most of the SEC's claims against Coinbase could proceed to trial, marking a significant setback for the company's efforts to dismiss the lawsuit. Coinbase argues that the SEC's aggressive stance is counterproductive and calls for a more collaborative approach to developing a comprehensive regulatory framework.

Aligning with Coinbase's Mission

These legal actions are not just strategic moves but are deeply aligned with Coinbase's mission statement of promoting financial freedom. By challenging the SEC and advocating for transparent and clear regulations, Coinbase is doing everything in its power to create an environment where digital assets can thrive. This dedication to financial freedom and innovation is at the core of Coinbase's goals, reflecting its commitment to transforming the financial landscape.

Conclusion

Coinbase's legal actions against the SEC and FDIC reflect a pivotal moment in the relationship between the crypto industry and U.S. regulators. By demanding transparency and clear rules, Coinbase is advocating for a regulatory environment that supports innovation while protecting investors. As this legal battle unfolds, it will undoubtedly shape the future of cryptocurrency regulation in the United States and potentially set precedents for other jurisdictions around the world.