#Curriculum Packages

[delicatelysublimeforester]

Citizen Scientists Preserve the Heart of Saskatoon: The Battle for the Swales

[4byun]

1 OUT OF 5 CURRICULUMS DONE !!!!!!

[the-music-keeper]

Objective #10 is done. While most of the requirements look vague on paper (like most seminar classes do, to be honest), Dr. Clark's bio has a wonderful list of topics he's led seminars on -- including flamenco and tango.

[greater-than-the-sword]

People do know that the vast majority of homeschoolers' study adheres to curriculums (reading schedules, math programs, etc.) that are designed by educational experts and advertized in entire catalogs that sell them both in parts and as packages, and sometimes these curriculums are even adopted by public or private schools because they're better... right??

[mistydeyes]

a panacea

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pan·a·ce·a noun

a solution or remedy for all difficulties or diseases.

summary: In pharmacy school, patient interaction was a core part of the curriculum. You tirelessly remember long, coffee-fueled nights going over your notes for each Professional Practice Skills class. The 141 boys make sure you can exercise these communication skills daily.

141's medical file reference

pairing: Task Force 141 x pharmacist!Reader

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds and needles, fluff, flirting, and mutual crushes

a/n: i'm an american pharmacy student so sorry for some inaccuracies about how pharmacy across the pond

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As you walked into the pharmacy and began your shift, you paged through a few recent scripts and checked in with your technicians. Your graduation from university, years of clinical experience, and now your more recent military training seemed like a distant memory. You would constantly see a variety of service men and women every day without much thought. Yes, there were some repeat individuals but overall everything seemed to blend. 

Despite this, you still attempted to form a meaningful interaction with each patient regardless of what they’d be picking up. Doctors were constantly bothersome with questions about the recommended treatment and asking for a drug not listed on the formulary. Patients were different though, you would always try to have a friendly conversation and wonder what missions they would be deployed on once they left the queue. As you prepared to work through today’s prescriptions and tackle a new medication supply, you reminded yourself that today was filled with a new set of faces to meet.

price

The members of 141 were all too familiar with a distant employment in a foreign country. It was part of the job description, something you do without question. However, some countries had the luxury of also having medication to take for the duration of the trip. Malaria is no joke and you always had to ensure you ordered an abundant supply of antimalarials for the soldiers constantly going around the world.

Today was no exception, your new order had literally been flying off the shelves. It was the post-breakfast rush and you had a few boxes left of atovaquone/proguanil (Malarone). Although the frequency of taking these was a pain, you loved the easy verification and packaging of the box.

As you continued to provide the queue with their prescriptions, a familiar face and hat made its way to the front.

"Ah Captain Price, back again?" you grinned as he approached the counter.

"Back too soon," the man chuckled, the deep baritone of his laugh bouncing across the walls. "I believe I have a couple of things to pick up from you, love."

With that, you pulled his file up and confirmed his array of medications. Generally, nothing out of the ordinary you noted and acknowledged the new addition of Malarone.

"Yes just give me a moment," you replied as you went to grab his bag.

As the bottles rattled around in the bag, you took a peek and counted the correct number of bottles/boxes, and verified their appearance.

"Now are you going for leisure or work? I saw the newest order for an antimalarial." Secretly you knew the answer but there was always the possibility that the Captain was going on leave.

He let out another small chuckle, "I think you know the answer to that one, doll. Duty calls."

You smiled back, the small inclusion of pet names brightening your day. "Alright then, and I'm assuming you know the regimen. This isn't your first rodeo."

"Yeah, take one for the next day, every day there, and for the week when I get back." You hummed in agreement with his response and he gave you a quick thanks before turning to go.

"Oh but while you're here, any interest in some smoking cessation recommendations!" Like before, you knew the answer. This man was loyal to his country and even more loyal to his cigars. The air filled with the fragrance of musk and cigar smoke whenever he came in definitely made an impression on you.

With this last comment, he let out a final, breathy laugh before responding, "You are many things, Captain, but that's a fucking miracle I don't believe you can pull off."

soap

Infections were no surprise to you. Especially working in the military, there was plenty of incidence for it. Most of the time and even after the doctor patched them up and directed them on proper care, there would still be a select few that would return with an infection.

The rest of the morning was quiet, you were able to catch up on some documentation and had time to pop into the medical wing to provide your pharmacist expertise. That's why when everyone's favorite Scot came by to pick up his antibiotic you didn't mind the company.

"Hi gorgeous, I'm here because of some doc's slipshod job stitching me up." He beamed as he raised his forearm to reveal new stitches and a clearly red, inflamed area. You quickly pulled up his file and your suspicions of an infection were confirmed.

"Sure, MacTavish. I completely believe that the medic specifically botched yours out of the whole team," you sarcastically replied. You served multiple tours with the "guilty" medic and knew they were of equal expertise to you. There was a reason they were performing surgeries while you provided insight and the medication. "I also trust you managed to keep the wound clean and didn't do anything stupid like, I don't know, training instead of resting," you finished as you raised an eyebrow.

He looked like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "Ah good one, Doc, I guess nothing is getting past you."

"Mhmm, I'll make you think twice about negatively referring to my colleagues. And again, you know I'm not a doctor. If I were, you know I wouldn't be so willing to stitch you up and send you on your way" you jokingly threatened. He shuddered slightly, he wouldn't want to imagine a world where you were his medic on the battlefield. But then again, his constant injuries would mean frequent visits.

"But I would get to see that gorgeous face of yours more," he joked and you could feel your face flush. His flirty antics and your eye rolls were a staple of this relationship.

"Do you talk to everyone this way?" you countered, "I bet your superiors love the constant flow of compliments and just blush at your tone."

"Oh yes, they do. My Lieutenant turns into a giggling mess underneath his mask. Do you know he's bloody handsome under that? You should try flooding him with pet names and admiration to see for yourself." He responded, a clear sarcasm in his voice evident even with his familiar accent.

"Will do, MacTavish. Now will you let me get your medication so I can return you to your loverboy?"

"Of course, Captain" he saluted exaggeratedly as you walked to the rows of shelves.

You opened the bag and then placed the verified medication into his hand. "You know the routine and for the love of God, please finish the amount in here. I don't want to be seeing another order for Augmentin from you any time soon!"

"Yes, love, but nothing can stop this machine from gathering more illnesses and wounds requiring your expert care." You rolled your eyes as he explained and gave a cocky gesture showcasing his chiseled injured body.

"Don't mess with me, you know I can easily sneak my way into the med ward and make sure you go nighty-night." You were bluffing, the Hippocratic oath painfully engraved in your mind. But it didn't hurt to joke back.

"Oh I'll be sure to watch out for you, scary legal drug dealer." With this last jab, he walked out and left you chuckling to yourself at his antics.

gaz

The flowers and trees were in full bloom around the base. It reminded you of the days studying outside and crying over learning your Year 2 immunology coursework. However, just like immunology, pollen just made your job more difficult. It seemed like the scripts for nasal sprays and allergy medication were endless. Day after day you would go to work with your technician as you helped their workload by filling the myriad of prescriptions.

Following the quiet lunch hour, the pharmacy quickly became flooded with people. As a younger soldier presented to your counter, you could immediately guess what they were here for.

Although he was not one of your repeat offenders, his watery eyes and the constant flow of sniffles made it clear that he was another victim of the unrelenting pollen.

“Garrick, Kyle,” he said and you couldn’t help but feel bad for him as he stood there a sniffling mess. You typed his name in and checked his credentials as he turned to sneeze.

“Ah yes, you have a nasal spray and another prescription here. Just give me a moment.” You walked away from the counter as you heard him chuckle and call out, “You wouldn’t happen to have a panacea back there would you?”

“Unfortunately I do not,” you said and frowned upon your return, “But just take these once a day with water and use the nasal spray as needed. One puff in each nose should do the trick and don’t forget to shake it!” You explained. Holding the small container of pills you noted, "Plus this is Piriteze, so you won't feel tired after taking but I usually recommend taking a half hour before you know you're going outside or having any interaction with pollen."

He nodded in agreement and took out a tissue to blow his nose for the hundredth time today. This action didn't relieve his congestion. Allergies were really the bane of everyone's existence and you felt for him as he let out a couple of sneezes and apologized.

As he took the bag you gently said, “Sometimes something spicy really clears everything out. Spice has the benefit of being both delicious and working as a decongestant. You’ll definitely need some tissues but it’s worth it in my opinion.” With that, you offered a wink and sent him on his way.

"You're truly an angel. I'll be sure to update you, love," he beamed at you with a dashing smile. You would be flattered if it had not been for his subsequent barrage of sneezes.

A few days later, a pleased Gaz returned to you and explained your life hack had worked. One half bottle of hot sauce later and he had been congestion free. Brushing your astonishment at his spice tolerance aside, you explained that it had been just the medicine. However, Gaz would soon be giving everyone an earful of your non-conventional methods. Although his mates constantly joked about the image of him drowning in snot (a picture gracefully captured by Soap), he was thankful for you, the pretty pharmacist, and the help.

ghost

You could feel the headache forming from the fluorescent lights and the busy day you were currently having. This morning new missions called for you to enforce the regimen of taking antimalarials and in the afternoon, returning soldiers required pain medication and antibiotics (although you were thankful these were tablets and not through IVs). However, this was no challenge to you and you were further encouraged by the recent positive interactions you’d been having.

Just as you stepped away for a water break, your desktop notified you of a patient awaiting their prescription. You sighed and walked over to see the patient file as well as what medication they’d be receiving today.

You read the name carefully and slowly, partially because of your tiredness as well as your irrational fear of giving the patient the wrong medication.

“Riley, Simon” you mumbled and kept repeating the name as you walked amongst the rows of bags to retrieve the medication.

Just some routine painkillers. You examined the container to verify the oval, white pills of paracetamol.

As you notified the waiting soldier, your computer showed a reminder that they were due for a flu shot. You smiled, immunizations were often done routinely through a clinic but sometimes, you would get a break from your day and be able to administer one.

You acknowledged the reminder just as the soldier walked up. Tall, brooding, and donning a unique balaclava, you presumed this was Simon Riley. Your earlier conversation with Soap made you realize that this was the man who put up with all of his antics. You wondered if the paracetamol was for an injury or his raging headache from his Sergeant.

Recognizing his rank, you greeted him warmly and went to verify his patient credentials. He was a quiet man, only replying to your necessary prompts. This further added evidence that the medication was because of Soap, the chatterbox that he is. As you handed over his prescription, you let him know the bad news.

“Unfortunately, you are due for a flu shot but I can have you out of here in less than 15 minutes if you’d like?” you smiled, "or you could always just have me refer you out to get it while you're on leave."

"I'll do it now, don't know the next time I'd be returning," he spoke lowly. You wondered where he would be off to next as he pocketed the medication and nodded in agreement.

You motioned for him to sit in the designated area and prepared the necessary materials. As you walked over to the vaccine area now occupied by the large man, you positioned yourself to the side of him. You performed your typical routine of verifying the prescription and noting the necessary numbers before you felt the need to break the silence.

“You know, I used to be terrified of these as a child. I hope you didn’t have the same experience, Lieutenant,” you chuckled as you began to clean his bicep. You admired the tattoo on his right arm, so intricate and beautiful.

“I’ve had much worse, trust me,” he replied and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. Well, I guess the man of few words has a sense of humor.

“That’s good to hear! You wouldn’t imagine the number of recruits that squirm even before I’ve begun to prep their arm. I thought all that training taught you guys to be tough.” With this, you both laughed and you began to position your hand ensuring the needle was going into the proper area.

You felt him slightly tense under your touch but you gave him a reassuring pat on the hand. You knew as a child that the best way was to finish the vaccine before they even had time to react.

“You can hold my hand if you’d like,” you joked, not realizing that he was pink under his mask. "Or you could be a good little soldier and I might give you a lolly" you continued further, teasing the man. He was so glad to have the safety of concealment as you were really rubbing it in. He waved you off with his other hand and you went about a quick administration.

“See that’s not so bad,” you smiled and you went to apply a bandage. Unfortunately, you realized you were out of your typical issued bandaids and quickly grabbed a colorful, neon star one.

He glanced down and responded with a low, “What the hell is that?”

“I’m sorry it’s the only one I have at the moment, but you should be able to take it off before bed tonight!” you apologized and you fastened it onto his strong bicep.

Little did you know that your small talk and neon bandage had endeared you to the Lieutenant. Your reassuring touch and soft actions made him believe you’d be a better fit for a position in pediatrics than here. Although he would have to explain the ridiculous stars, he found himself wanting to get all of his vaccines from you.

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first time writing and posting here in like forever! hope you enjoyed this mw2 content :)

[jayden-writes]

to belong

pairing: Lucifer x gn!Reader

wordcount: ~2.9k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst

cw: skipping meals due to stress, anxiety, insecurity, school-related fears, self-esteem issues

summary: In an attempt to prove yourself worthy to be amongst the demons you were living with, you ended up pushing yourself too far.

other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic!

Sometimes you wondered how you fit into the House of Lamentation, if you even belonged there in the first place. You were a mere human among demons, the seven Avatars of Sin, and no amount of pacts could hide that fact. Everything you did, they did better - and with less effort at that. Mammon's grades were as bad as yours, with the difference that you have been studying night after night for them. Meanwhile, he rarely ever picked up a textbook, if at all.

The final exams were approaching at a rapid pace and you were trying and failing to keep up with the curriculum. Following your return from RAD, you had cooped yourself up in your room and it must have been a few hours since then - Levi had called you for dinner a while ago, and you had declined. How late it was exactly, you couldn’t tell and couldn’t be bothered to check. But you knew that getting enough sleep tonight wouldn’t be possible, just like all the other nights before. With a groan, you leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair as you yawned.

Deciding to allow yourself a small break, you went into your adjacent bathroom, standing in front of the sink and splashing cold water on your cheeks. The droplets trailed down your skin and you looked into the mirror, examining your face with a heavy sigh. The dark circles beneath your eyes could almost rival Lucifer’s, and you were nearly as pale as Levi. Your features were beginning to look sunken in and you were barely able to remember the last time you had a proper meal - you were lucky everyone was too busy with their own things to really pay attention to you, otherwise someone would have already scolded or forced you to take better care of yourself. As much as you wanted to do that, you just couldn’t; you had to do as well as possibly could on the exams, well enough to prove yourself to them. Or perhaps more so to prove yourself to Lucifer, to make him proud of you and your efforts.

Feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks at the thought of him giving you one of his rare compliments, you shook your head. It was embarrassing how hard you've been trying to get his attention, his approval; your attempts, however, stayed unsuccessful - the best result you've managed to achieve was the absence of criticism and just the tiniest upward quirk of his lips and-

“Focus, dammit!” you hissed at your reflection, sprinkling some more water on your face to shake yourself out of your reverie.

Finally, you stepped away and made your way to the kitchen to at least eat something small. When you opened the fridge, you grimaced at the harsh light and the emptiness you found inside. You huffed in annoyance and grabbed a cup of yogurt and a spoon, leaning against the counter while you ate your second “meal” of the day in the dim lighting. The cup was quickly emptied and you threw the packaging into the trash before going back to your room. Despite knowing that you should be eating more, especially since your brain needed energy to work properly, you just couldn’t get yourself to actually do so. It was either because you lacked the time or because you simply weren’t hungry; you attributed the latter to the stress you've been putting on yourself.

With that, you returned and sat on your chair, determined to somehow get through these piles of papers and books in front of you. Before you knew it, more hours passed and it was soon past 2 a.m. The letters and numbers were blurred by now and you blinked hard, attempting to bring them back into focus. Setting down the pen, you rubbed at your eyes and, when that didn’t help either, you stood up. The moment you were on your feet again, the room spun around you. Cursing under your breath, you staggered to the bed, collapsing onto it rather than lying down. The light was still on and you were too tired to turn it off. Sleep came easily, although it was anything but restful.

At 6 a.m., the sound of an alarm pierced the air, and you wanted nothing more than to roll onto your side, to sleep off the pounding ache in your head. You clumsily reached for your D.D.D. and turned off the blaring noise, groaning at the overhead light that burned itself into your aching eyes. Without a doubt, you were looking even worse compared to yesterday - you certainly felt like it at least. You sat up and swung your legs over the edge, wincing at the increasing pain behind your temples but pointedly ignoring it as you walked into your bathroom with unsteady steps. While washing your face you caught a glimpse of your appearance and cringed. It would only be a matter of time, and someone would eventually notice how you were neglecting yourself.

Still, lying to anyone who asked about your eating habits had gotten surprisingly easy - you had either already eaten or were going to get something on the way to or from RAD. It made you feel bad, but you couldn't have anyone meddling in your life, not when you so desperately needed to do well on those exams. All you had to do was to focus, to ignore everything that wasn't important until it was over. It was only one week. Seven more days and you could return to how things were before. You would be fine, you knew it.

After getting dressed and gathering your school supplies, you placed them in your backpack and headed to the main entrance. On your way there, you glanced into the dining room, noting the absence of Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, and Belphegor. The ones that were present greeted you halfheartedly, being absorbed in either their D.D.D. or the food in front of them to pay you any attention. You left the House of Lamentation, walking to RAD with an open book in your hands, intent on getting more subject material into your overwhelmed mind before you inadvertently had to write one of the exams later.

The classes went by in a blur and you barely saw the brothers throughout the day, exactly like it has been for the majority of the past few weeks. Somehow, your condition managed to deteriorate with every class that passed, your head spinning and throbbing. Nothing made sense to you anymore and you were unable to focus. By the time you finally had to get to the class you had an exam in, you felt completely out of it and absolutely terrified - at this rate, you were going to fail. Hurrying to the classroom, you climbed the stairs towards the correct floor, taking two steps at once despite the lingering dizziness. They were winding and you were rounding a curve when you forcefully collided with someone. Shrieking in surprise, you lost your balance and began to fall backwards. It all seemed to happen so slowly yet so rapidly. A strong arm quickly snaked around your waist and you were drawn against something firm. Lucifer. You would recognize that outfit anywhere.

“Can you not watch where-” he started to reproach you, but the words died on his lips as you pulled away. His brow furrowed and he gave you a quick look-over.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to. I'm in a hurry, sorry,” you explained, your speech rushed and a little slurred, and you pushed past him to continue your ascent. However, you couldn't get much further because his hand reached out towards you again, this time grabbing you by the wrist.

“Where do you think you're going?” he asked, his tone calm and controlled. His hold on you was tight, although not painfully so, and you turned back to face him.

“To class, I have an exam,” was your simple reply, and you attempted to shake him off once more.

“Oh no, you're not going anywhere,” he responded sternly, not releasing you and instead firmly, yet carefully, guiding you down the stairs.

“What? But why? My exam!” you sputtered. “I apologized, no need to punish me!”

“Punish you?” He frowned, stopping momentarily before shaking his head and continuing downwards. “This isn't about punishment.”

“Then what-” you began, only to be cut off when an especially intense wave of dizziness washed over you, making you lose your footing. Catching you for a second time, he steadied you against his side.

“Alright. Enough of this,” he muttered, keeping hold of your waist while sliding the other one under your knees, hoisting you into the air. Your stomach swooped and you yelped, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Calm yourself,” Lucifer said tersely, holding your quivering frame securely. “I’ve got you.”

With a whimper, you pushed your face into the fabric of his suit to avoid seeing the stairs as he descended. The thought of being carried down the steps made you feel queasy and you anxiously held onto him tighter.

“I will not let you fall,” he stated, sounding mildly exasperated. “See? It's already over.”

And indeed, the harsher rocking motions of him descending had ceased, being replaced by the smooth swaying of him walking. You withdrew from him and looked up at his stoic expression. There was a small blush coloring your cheeks at the proximity and you quickly pressed yourself against him when red eyes glanced down at you.

“Are you not… putting me down again? I can walk by myself,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt.

“Yes, I saw how well you were able to walk down those stairs,” Lucifer retorted sarcastically and tightened his hold on you.

You only huffed and pouted, but that didn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. Soon enough, the main entrance opened and a cold breeze hit you, causing you to flinch, and you buried yourself further into his chest.

“Forgot your jacket somewhere, hm?” he concluded, setting you down carefully, making sure you were at least somewhat steady on your own feet before withdrawing his touch to take off his coat. With a confused look, you observed his actions, barely able to hold yourself upright, whether it was still due to your exhausted and weakened state or due to what almost felt like Lucifer fussing over you, you were not certain. Before you knew it, the warm and heavy fabric was wrapped tightly around your body, and then you were swiftly lifted back up.

“H-hey!” you protested. “You can't just give me your coat! What about you? Won’t you get cold?”

Lucifer's shoulders heaved with a deep sigh.

“You need not concern yourself with me, I will be fine,” he said and you could practically hear how he rolled his eyes.

It was silent aside from the sound of the gravel beneath his shoes as he carried you towards the House of Lamentation. When he stepped through the door, you expected him to set you down so you could go to your room. But instead, he walked up the stairs.

“What? That's- that's not the way to my room,” you exclaimed, shifting in his hold.

“That is correct, yes,” he replied easily, holding you securely and continuing his ascent, undeterred by your confusion. Maneuvering the door to his room open, he entered and placed on his large, pristine bed.

“I don't understand…” you muttered as you shrugged off his coat and made yourself more comfortable, leaning against the headboard.

With a furrowed brow, you watched Lucifer stride towards a cabinet and look through it.

“You will be staying with me for now. You are foolish if you believe that I will let you out of my sight anytime soon.”

Those words stunned you and you didn't know whether you should feel annoyed, intimidated, or flattered. Perhaps it was a mix between the three.

Finally, he found what he had been searching for, returning to your side with a small vial that contained a shimmery blue liquid and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I'm assuming you have not eaten a sufficient amount lately, am I correct?” he asked, his expression not giving much away as he uncorked the vial and held it out towards you.

“This will replenish your energy and hold you over for a bit,” he explained once you tentatively took it from him. “I want you to drink this and then sleep. After you've had some rest, I will make sure to prepare you a nourishing meal.”

“Do I really have to drink that?”

“I will not force you to, though I highly recommend you do; you will feel better afterwards. So be good for me and drink it, alright?” he spoke, smirking a little.

At that, your face flushed and you huffed, “D-don't talk to me like that!”

“My apologies,” he chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement, “but I simply can't resist making you blush. You do look rather endearing when you're flustered.”

You looked up defiantly, fixing him with a mild glare as you chugged the potion with a grimace. Lucifer quirked a brow and eyed you closely, a fond, barely there smile playing around his lips.

“That wasn't so hard now, was it?” He took the vial back and set it aside, leaning against his desk with crossed arms, watching you.

“It absolutely was,” you shuddered in disgust at the aftertaste. A pleasant warm feeling spread rapidly through your body and you did feel slightly better, albeit still terribly exhausted, and you couldn't help but yawn.

“What about you, though? Where will you sleep?” you questioned, sinking into the soft mattress nonetheless.

“My bed is more than big enough for two people,” he pointed out. “Plus, I do not typically sleep during the day. There is paperwork that needs to be done. However, I will not return to RAD today. I will take care of everything from my desk, to make sure you're actually doing as you're told.”

He gave you a stern look before walking to his table to busy himself with his work. Except for the scratching of his pen or the shuffling of paper and your steady breaths, it was silent while the time passed. Just when you were about to drift off, Lucifer began speaking in a hushed voice.

“Lord Diavolo, I'm afraid you will have to do without me for today, and tomorrow as well. I have some urgent matters at the House of Lamentation to attend to… It’s nothing for you to be concerned over, I will handle it… If something important comes up, you can of course-… Alright, yes, thank you for understanding…”

Listening to the call made you feel tense, hot shame flooding you. Lucifer, Diavolo’s right-hand man, won’t be able to do his job properly because of you. Because you were unable to keep up with the demands of the Devildom. The spoken words faded into the background as you burrowed yourself further into the mattress, willing yourself to disappear. You hadn’t even noticed that he had hung up until you felt a finger stroking your cheek, wiping away tears. When had you started crying?

“What’s the matter?” he asked quietly; the gentleness in his tone only making you want to hide more.

The mattress dipped and you opened your eyes, seeing him sit on the bed with a frown.

“You’re busy…” you muttered, averting your gaze and fiddling with the edge of the blanket.

“That I am, yes,” he replied slowly, tilting his head in confusion.

“… and I’m keeping you from your work…”

“I see. So that’s what this is about?” Lucifer questioned, his hand moving from your cheek to brush a strand of hair from your face.

Stubbornly avoiding eye contact, you stayed silent. With a heavy sigh, his touch disappeared and he shifted away from you, looking into the distance as if contemplating something. Before you could comprehend what was happening, he had already joined you beneath the covers, the heat of his body seeping into you as he gathered you in his arms.

“I assure you, Lord Diavolo will be able to handle everything without me for two days. Besides, you and your well-being are far more important than any paperwork or meetings with some nobles,” he whispered, pulling you towards his chest and tucking your head under his chin.

“But-” you began.

“No buts,” he cut you off, holding you closer. “I want you to sleep now.”

You wanted to protest, but the way you were nestled against him, enveloped in warmth and a sense of safety, made all your objections vanish into thin air.

“Fine…” you mumbled.

“Good. I will stay here with you until you fall asleep, alright?”

A tired hum was the only response he got from you and he chuckled affectionately, the sound vibrating against your cheek.

“Sleep well,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to your scalp and tracing small circles on your back.

It didn’t take you long to succumb to your exhaustion, and when you woke up a few hours later, you fully expected to be alone - instead, you were surprised to find Lucifer’s presence next to you, now also sleeping. Still in his embrace, you draped an arm across his waist as well, snuggling even closer. He stirred slightly and hummed, sleepily nuzzling your hair. With a smile, you nuzzled his neck in return and drifted off again.

Perhaps you were exactly where you belonged after all.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

On August 22, Saskatchewan Premier Scott Moe and Education Minister Dustin Duncan announced new policies for schools that specifically target 2SLGBTQIA+ students. In the press release, Saskatchewan schools are now required to “seek parent/guardian permission when changing the preferred name and pronouns used by students under the age of 16 in the school.”

Duncan’s announcement was packaged with two other policies. The first requires parents to be informed about the sexual health curriculum “and have the option to decline their children’s participation.” The other requires boards of education to sever ties with third-party organizations “connected to sexual health education.”

A new low The Canadian Civil Liberties Association (CCLA) condemned the move to require permission from parents to change names or pronouns in a press release, stating they will take legal action to protect student rights in the province. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[greyeyedmonster-18]

we meet again

(so @arliedraws created a slytherin!sirius universe in which james in an auror and sirius is a death eater (or is he??) and they have unfulfilled homoerotic urges for one another and i...came up with this idea, and it's been in my brain (and @impishtubist's SMS text messages for licherally months). It seemed that arlies most recent day of birth was an appropriate time to drop this. xoxo)

--

James's cheeks hurt from smiling so widely as two first-year aurors brought out a cake, lit with an abundance of candles that shot up into the air spelling out Happy Retirement Auror Potter! To complete the package, the cake was decorated as a tropical lagoon. Crystal blue waters, and yellow sprinkles on top to mimic a sunset. Sending James a final subliminal message to cash in his 30 years of unspent vacation time, aside from a few days here and there, and disappear into the tropics. Off the grid, off radar, off the cases. Officially.

Not that James was one who ever said I cannot wait to retire in passing--because he had loved every moment of his years in the aurors department. His first year in the training program, his first big raid, his promotion to Senior Auror, to Director of the Department and finally in his last year, the ultimate promotion of having the responsibility of training new aurors. He had put in the work, and he could leave the department and rest easy knowing everyone left behind would continue to do faithful and just work for the wizarding world. Including his son, Harry who, after years of telling James no I'm not coming into the department, I don't want to, I'm not following in your footsteps, shove off, Dad and trying a host of obscure occupations just to prove a point (most recently a shop clerk at Florean Flortescue) he finally confessed to James he had applied.

James tried to pretend he wasn't elated. Harry tried to pretend he wasn't equally as excited, both of them concealing smiles on Harry's first day in the department. Keeping it cool as the Potter Men were known to do.

"I can't believe you actually did it," Harry said, as cake was passed around, the retirement party in full swing. James was halfway through his slice, blue frosting magically enchanted to pool around the rim of his plate.

"Did you doubt it?"

"Yes," Harry stressed, alongside Moody and Sturgis Podmore, both chatting within earshot. Harry gave James a pointed look, as if to say see, it's not just me. "I thought you were going to delay it again just last week when you got all weepy about writing the report details for your last training class. 12 pages--"

"It's important to be thorough--"

"And that last one was damp, swear," Harry teased, and James shook his head cutting off another bite of cake.

"Oh, just you wait. You'll be crying at your desk too when the time comes," James told him, teeth tinted blue as he spoke, "and you'll look around and wonder where the time went and wish you could--"

Harry dropped his head to the side, closing his eyes and letting out a small snore, earning a loud laugh from Moody, before pretending to wake up, "Sorry? I must've fallen asleep while you were reminiscing."

"Reflecting," James corrected.

"Much more interested in our vacation--"

"Oh no, you're much too busy," James told him, letting out a low whistle, "I've seen that training curriculum and I don't think you'll have time for much of anything for the next few...years?" James shrugged, "Looks like I'll be seeing Santorini, and Turks and Caicos all by myself. Maybe I'll finally take your advice and," James paused to think for a moment, "What is it you've been telling me? Find--"

James sentence was cut off by the department doors opening, Kingsley Shacklebolt striding in, violet robes trailing behind him, jaw clenched and eyebrows close together. James couldn't help but laugh a little as Harry seemed to straighten up, putting his hands behind his back as the Minister of Magic made his way toward Moody and the other Senior Aurors in the room. James had known Kingsley for years--and by extension, Harry had known Kingsley for years, but everything seemed to shift when Kingsley went from Your Dads Friend with the Cool Tattoos and Earrings, to Minister of Magic and Effectively Your Boss. Harry cleared his throat and gave James a nod, before following the other younger aurors in looking extremely busy around the office. Suddenly papers were all too out of place, and there was much work to be done, when only moments before, they were playing a rousing game of napkin Quidditch.

"Sorry, Potter, this celebration may have to be cut short. Auror Bones just sent a patronus, and that burglary down at Diagon Alley might not be so simple after all," Shacklebolt said, dropping his voice lower, "The owner of the shop confessed to having some...untoward artifacts in the back, and you'll never guess what was taken."

"What kind of artifacts?" James asked.

"You're retired, Potter."

James looked at his watch, "I'm not retired for another two hours, now what kind of artifacts?"

"Reliquaries is how the owner described them. Heirlooms that have been passed down in his family for centuries...which means--"

"Layers of dark magic." Moody mumbled.

"That's not the important piece, I'm afraid," Kingsley continued, "The only reason the owner knew there had been a burglary was because the backdoor was left unlocked. I remember when I was a junior auror here...there was a series of home theft...shop theft...all of them with the back entry way left open and--"

"A note," James cut him off immediately, eyes wide as his heart pounded against his rib cage. He could feel a flush fall over his body, acid rising in his throat.

"Oh no," muttered Moody.

"What did the note say?" James asked again and Kingsley hesitated, sharing a glance with Moody.

"Potter, you're retiring, enjoy your--"

"What did the note say?" James asked again, this time loud enough to catch the attention of other members of the department.

"Finders keepers."

--

James's ears were ringing as he left the auror department, not even pausing after Kingsley had spoken the words on the note. Two single words, and suddenly James couldn't see straight. Couldn't think straight.

Finders keepers, finders keepers, finders keepers.

It didn't matter that James was set to retire in an hour and a half.

It didn't matter he had left a party in his honor. It also didn't matter that his lips were stained blue from cake, or that he had dinner plans with Harry after the party to celebrate, just the two of them. He threw open the door to his office, the walls now barren and the space void of any personal touches, and quickly went toward his filing cabinet.

This case, had been the only one James had be removed from. This case, had been the only one in thirty years that had just been marked closed with no real resolution. A series of home thefts over the course of three months, all seemingly connected, but they came up empty every time, eventually abandoning it. After three months, after James was removed from the case, not a single report.

Every time a burglary had been called in since, James read the file and poured over every detail, hoping for more information. For a reason to reopen the case. But none was ever found. James had the dates memorized. Pulling each report one by one, and opening them to the notes found at each scene.

Finders keepers.

He grabbed the files, shrinking them and shoving them into the pockets of his robes, wand in hand as he left his office once more, closing the door behind him. Moody, and Kingsley were already on their way down the hall, nearly chasing after James, urgency in their footsteps to stop him from doing something stupid.

"Potter!" Moody barked

"Evening, Alastor. I believe I have a party to be getting back to," James said simply, though sweat was dripping down his back, beading on the center of his forehead. He ran a hand through his greying hair, in a way he hoped was nonchalant and not in a way that looked dangerously suspicious.

"Potter, do I need to remind you, you were removed from this case and--"

"I'm retired, w-why in Merlins name would--don't be--no, I-I'm not, and there's no, it's a party! I'm having a great time, have a good night!" James gave them both a wave before resuming his brisk walk-run down the hallway, shoes squeaking on the tile floor, eager to get out of the department

He knew where to go.

He knew he shouldn't be going there.

But.

He had to.

There was a fireplace on the first floor of the Ministry of Magic for floo access. James approached the fireplace, thinking, briefly, that perhaps it was foolish to think that after all this time he might still have access--clearance-- to this location. He grasped a handful of floo powder anyway, closing his eyes as he stepped into the fireplace.

"NUMBER TWELVE GRIMMAULD PLACE!"

--

The sitting room looked exactly as James remembered it.

Sort of.

The curtains had been changed. They were a deep yellow now instead of grey like they were the last time James was here. The carpet had been removed, and James stepped out of the fireplace onto cool hardwood floors.

The pristine black leather couch, and the gaudy chandelier were the same though. So were the end tables, and the armchair in the corner with a hand-embroidered throw pillow. James had laughed at it then, because a crook shouldn't have had something so dainty and delicate so proudly on display in their home. So distracted by the decor, the once familiar smells and sounds of Number 12, he didn't notice the man in the doorway.

"I have to admit, Potter, this is quite the surprise."

James jumped, hand immediately grasping the wand on the inside of his robes, attention turning toward the man in the doorway. Dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, not quite tucked into his trousers; dark hair cut shorter than the last time James saw him. 20 years ago. He was wearing house slippers, which shouldn't have been odd, considering they were indoors and among other names James could've called him, Sirius Black was far from a barbarian, and knew better than to wear shoes around the house. But the slippers were fur lined. And James had to stop the corners of his mouth from grinning--just as they had at the pillow.

All at once, James was in his thirties again. Not his fifties.

And he was staring at Sirius Black. Tall, dark, irritating, criminal , Sirius Black. Thoughts racing, with absolutely nothing to say. Tongue swollen in his mouth.

"I could have you arrested," Sirius remarked casually, tilting his head to the side. "I believe this is what people in your line of work call trespassing, isn't it?"

"Your floo let me in," James responded, sounding much younger, and much more petulant than he intended. It was always that way around Sirius. James had thought that years as an auror would put him in a better position to deal with Sirius Black and his quick tongue. That this time he would be ready, and James would be able to respond with ease and not stare and stammer as he did in the past.

He was wrong.

"Ah, so this is just poor manners? Or did I forget the moment I invited you to my home? Did we have dinner plans?"

"Well, no but--"

"No to poor manners? Or no I didn't forget?"

James rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, "We didn't have plans, Black. I'm not here for a chat--"

"But we have so much to catch up on. It's been ages-- how's your son?"

"Cut the shit, Black. I know you were behind the burglary down in Diagon Alley."

Sirius gasped, pressing his hand to his chest, looking surprised and affronted by James's accusation, "Me? But I've been at home all day. Baking. Would you like a slice of rhubarb, Potter?" Sirius gestured with his head, turning around to walk back through the doorway and down the hall of Grimmauld Place.

James followed.

"Well, don't stand there, you can have a seat. Make yourself at home," Sirius gestured to the kitchen table. Fresh flowers in the center. James took a seat, watching as Sirius waved his wand to begin slicing a pie on the counter, all the while smirking at James with his arms folded across his chest. "Do you still take your tea with cream?"

"No!" James objected, "I mean, I do but don't offer me tea, I'm here--"

"Yes, yes, very official auror business, I remember. Just because you have poor manners and show up unannounced to people's homes--"

"I don't!"

"--doesn't mean that I do, and you're a guest in my home, so I am going to offer you tea. Do you still take it with cream?"

"Yes...thank you," James said, watching as Sirius poured two cups of tea, sending them over to the table, along with the pie before joining James.

Black still had that same damn smile. Not a grey hair in sight, though had more creases under his eyes.

"Thank you," James repeated, looking down at the pie in front of him, something clicking in his brain. "Why...why do you have this pie?"

Sirius smiled slowly. "Why not?"

"Why do you have a rhubarb pie, Black?"

"Well, since you asked. A little birdie told me you were retiring from the auror department and...I just thought I'd...prepare for the occasion. It's your favorite, isn't it?"

[erikftglitter]

Ch 4 | The Piteous Life of Dr. Stevens' New Wife

Killmonger AU

Created By: Erikftglitter

Kari had been focused all week. She adjusted a week’s worth of lesson planning, updated grades, scheduled guest speakers for career day, and managed to grade homework. She did everything that she could possibly think of before the weekend started. She just wanted to relax and she wasn’t fond of spending the weekend prepping.

“Ms. Evans. Can I speak with you for a moment?” Kari’s concentration temporarily seized. Principal Grant stood in entrance of her classroom.

“Yes. What can I help you with?” Kari asked, offering him a half smile.

Principal Grant starred at Kari for moment before speaking.

“The semiannual teacher’s conference is coming up, as you already know, and I wondering if you’d want to represent our school this time around?”

His son broke his arm last night. Administration was overwhelmed by processing each student’s individualized wellness reports. The rest of the teachers weren’t even open to discussing the curriculum. What good would they be to vote on the school’s future? Kari was the only acceptable candidate for the job.

“Yes! Please email me.” Kari beamed. This was a perfect opportunity. She could finally learn firsthand about teaching methodologies, strategies for the upcoming semester, and not to mention the opportunity of boasting her students’ accomplishments.

Another thought crossed Kari’s mind but she was too scared to entertain it. This also presented the opportunity to meet new men. She felt uncomfortable with the idea though. She wanted Dr. Stevens but she did think about the fact that many women were swooned by the doctor. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

Why would he settle for just Kari?

Kari sighed once Principal Grant left her classroom. She was having a very productive time until their conversation. While it wasn’t his fault, per se, she still didn’t want to feel like she did at the moment. She didn’t think about the fact that she rarely knew much about the doctor’s love life or his love aspirations. What if he didn’t care for marriage? What if he hated children?

Breathe Kari.

Breathe Kitten.

That seemed to work. Kari was targeting too many possibilities without any real rationale. If Dr. Stevens wasn’t at least a little bit interested in her, then he wouldn’t have extended the invitation for dinner. That calmed her nerves and she laughed at her own apprehensiveness.

Kari was able to get back to work. The last thing that she needed to do was disinfect her classroom. It was definitely time to wipe down everything, possibly twice, and deodorize the rug inside of the classroom library. The cooling weather would soon attract common colds throughout the school and she wouldn’t allow herself to welcome the breeding grounds of disaster.

Kari’s ride home was quite pleasant. She accomplished a great deal of work and the clean classroom definitely improved her day. She was ready to enjoy yet another weekend of relaxation. She would probably order Chinese food then watch a few of her favorite movies.

Kari had only been in the house for five minutes before the doorbell rang. She peeked outside of her bedroom window and saw the mail delivery truck. She’s not sure about what she needed to possibly sign, but she rushed downstairs to meet the mailman.

“Kari Evans?” He inquired. Kari nodded and gently took the ink pen from his hands.

“Thank you.” Kari said softly as she turned to close the door. The box that she received wasn’t too heavy but she was very curious about its contents. There was no indication of what could be inside of it. Kari didn’t remember if she was waiting for a package, but she usually wasn’t quick to forget about stuff like that. She had already picked up her purchase from the bookstore.

She hurried to the kitchen to retrieve some scissors. She paced herself as she cut along the taped folds. She pried open the box and was soon baffled of its contents.

There lied a pristinely large white box that read Chloé. There was no way that this was supposed to be shipped to Kari. She retrieved the original brown box but it surely read her name.

Kari’s heart was beating profusely as she opened the box. She’d never been gifted luxurious items. She wondered who was honoring her with the gift. What did she do to deserve it?

She carefully pulled back the tissue paper to reveal a stunningly radiant bag. She gasped at the sight of the beige shoulder bag in front of her. Crafted from calfskin. Manufactured in Italy. Is Kari dreaming?

A white card with her name on it caught her attention.

“Kari.

Thank you for showing me around Caber City. As a token of my gratitude please accept this invitation to join me for dinner tonight. I’ll see you at 8.

— Dr. Stevens”

There was no way. Was this man ludicrous? Had he gone mad? Did he just spend three thousand dollars to ask Kari on a date that she already agreed to? Kari didn’t need to ask herself if Dr. Stevens was interested in, for he just made that abundantly clear.

Could she accept this? What truly came with accepting a gift this expensive? Was Erik an abusive ex-navy narcissist? Did he buy his way into women’s lives?

That didn’t sound like Erik but Kari couldn’t quite grasp why he would purchase such an expensive gift. Flowers couldn’t be a first step? Kari was confused. She was very flattered by the bag but confused.

Erik had to be a facade. He couldn’t possibly be real. Who was Doctor Stevens really? His tranquil nature, his perfect physique, his captivating voice, and honorable credentials had to he compensating for something. What was wrong with him?

Nonetheless Kari only had a few hours to get ready. If Dr. Stevens was applying pressure like this then surely Kari would prove herself worthy. She was far too invested to turn around now. Erik made her body weak without being present and she needed to get to the bottom of it.

Jazz music blared throughout the house. Erik had Kari extremely excited about this evening. She was walking on clouds as she got ready. She had to bathe as she was too anxious to stand in a hot shower. She found herself sitting in the tub rumbling over the endless possibilities. She was persistent about getting Dr. Stevens to break tonight. She’s not sure what she meant by that but she wanted a deeper level of confirmation of her inklings.

There was something different about Erik and she needed to figure that out. She was on the route to falling for the man and she wanted to be certain that he was the man for her. She was very grateful that she chose to grocery shop that day, for she felt like her life was just starting to begin.

Here she was lathering a thick layer of vanilla scented body scrub on her legs. The beads of vanilla felt great as she exfoliated her skin. Between the face mask, the shaving, the scrubbing, and the unexpected wash day, Kari took a few moments to rest in the tub. She was starting to grow lightheaded from the sudden turn of events. This was usually a day of very little activity but she wasn’t complaining.

With one final wash, Kari rinsed her entire body with cool water. Her skin was still glistening from the hydrating formulas. Dr. Stevens was in for the night of his life if that is what he wanted.

Prior to prom night, Kari hadn’t had much sex. She would not be the one to initiate those insinuations, but she really did enjoy the way that Erik’s hands felt over her bare body. For the first time Kari felt herself fantasizing about a man bending her over. What was that, she thought. And come this only happened when she thought about Erik?

Kari lazily wrapped her body around a drying towel and reached for the water on the vanity sink. She was definitely parched after those thoughts of Erik continually crossed her mind. She sat the cup down and eyed her reflection. She felt beautiful. Almost as beautiful as her brand new shoulder bag. Kari beamed at the remembrance of the bag.

If she wanted to straighten her hair and have time to do a full-face then she needed to get started. She was very grateful for the creation of the hot styling brush. A blow dryer and straightener in one was life changing. She didn’t need her hair to be silk pressed. She didn’t have time to attempt to get her naturally coils to a fine predicament. However she would straighten it then leave rollers in until Erik arrived. The goal was a feathered look that would complement her new bag!

After what felt like eternity, Kari’s entire head was full of rollers, and she was ready to get dressed. She needed to moisturize her body and sit down before she fainted. The thought of fainting and ruining date night was enough to make her drink some more water.

She continued the vanilla theme well into her fragrance of choice. She felt beautiful. She’d decided to wear a cream sleeveless, mock neck, midi dress that was purchased forever ago. What a lovely time to finally wear it. She kept the makeup simple. A soft, reliable, cut crease was always the perfect complement to any outfit. With a bag of that caliber Kari rightfully assumed that Erik was taking her to an elegant dinner.

8PM was slowly approaching so Kari began to undo her hair rollers. She released the breath that she’d been silently holding. All she needed to do was transfer the essentials from her regular purse to her new Chloé shoulder bag.

Kari perked up at the sound of the door bell. Silencing the jazz music, Kari began to steadily make her way down the stairs and into Erik’s arms.

“Hello Kari.”

__

@theesmartblonde

@ziayamikaelson

@ladymac82

[mostlysignssomeportents]

"Open" "AI" isn’t

Tomorrow (19 Aug), I'm appearing at the San Diego Union-Tribune Festival of Books. I'm on a 2:30PM panel called "Return From Retirement," followed by a signing:

https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/festivalofbooks

The crybabies who freak out about The Communist Manifesto appearing on university curriculum clearly never read it – chapter one is basically a long hymn to capitalism's flexibility and inventiveness, its ability to change form and adapt itself to everything the world throws at it and come out on top:

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1848/communist-manifesto/ch01.htm#007

Today, leftists signal this protean capacity of capital with the -washing suffix: greenwashing, genderwashing, queerwashing, wokewashing – all the ways capital cloaks itself in liberatory, progressive values, while still serving as a force for extraction, exploitation, and political corruption.

A smart capitalist is someone who, sensing the outrage at a world run by 150 old white guys in boardrooms, proposes replacing half of them with women, queers, and people of color. This is a superficial maneuver, sure, but it's an incredibly effective one.

In "Open (For Business): Big Tech, Concentrated Power, and the Political Economy of Open AI," a new working paper, Meredith Whittaker, David Gray Widder and Sarah B Myers document a new kind of -washing: openwashing:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4543807

Openwashing is the trick that large "AI" companies use to evade regulation and neutralizing critics, by casting themselves as forces of ethical capitalism, committed to the virtue of openness. No one should be surprised to learn that the products of the "open" wing of an industry whose products are neither "artificial," nor "intelligent," are also not "open." Every word AI huxters say is a lie; including "and," and "the."

So what work does the "open" in "open AI" do? "Open" here is supposed to invoke the "open" in "open source," a movement that emphasizes a software development methodology that promotes code transparency, reusability and extensibility, which are three important virtues.

But "open source" itself is an offshoot of a more foundational movement, the Free Software movement, whose goal is to promote freedom, and whose method is openness. The point of software freedom was technological self-determination, the right of technology users to decide not just what their technology does, but who it does it to and who it does it for:

https://locusmag.com/2022/01/cory-doctorow-science-fiction-is-a-luddite-literature/

The open source split from free software was ostensibly driven by the need to reassure investors and businesspeople so they would join the movement. The "free" in free software is (deliberately) ambiguous, a bit of wordplay that sometimes misleads people into thinking it means "Free as in Beer" when really it means "Free as in Speech" (in Romance languages, these distinctions are captured by translating "free" as "libre" rather than "gratis").

The idea behind open source was to rebrand free software in a less ambiguous – and more instrumental – package that stressed cost-savings and software quality, as well as "ecosystem benefits" from a co-operative form of development that recruited tinkerers, independents, and rivals to contribute to a robust infrastructural commons.

But "open" doesn't merely resolve the linguistic ambiguity of libre vs gratis – it does so by removing the "liberty" from "libre," the "freedom" from "free." "Open" changes the pole-star that movement participants follow as they set their course. Rather than asking "Which course of action makes us more free?" they ask, "Which course of action makes our software better?"

Thus, by dribs and drabs, the freedom leeches out of openness. Today's tech giants have mobilized "open" to create a two-tier system: the largest tech firms enjoy broad freedom themselves – they alone get to decide how their software stack is configured. But for all of us who rely on that (increasingly unavoidable) software stack, all we have is "open": the ability to peer inside that software and see how it works, and perhaps suggest improvements to it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBknF2yUZZ8

In the Big Tech internet, it's freedom for them, openness for us. "Openness" – transparency, reusability and extensibility – is valuable, but it shouldn't be mistaken for technological self-determination. As the tech sector becomes ever-more concentrated, the limits of openness become more apparent.

But even by those standards, the openness of "open AI" is thin gruel indeed (that goes triple for the company that calls itself "OpenAI," which is a particularly egregious openwasher).

The paper's authors start by suggesting that the "open" in "open AI" is meant to imply that an "open AI" can be scratch-built by competitors (or even hobbyists), but that this isn't true. Not only is the material that "open AI" companies publish insufficient for reproducing their products, even if those gaps were plugged, the resource burden required to do so is so intense that only the largest companies could do so.

Beyond this, the "open" parts of "open AI" are insufficient for achieving the other claimed benefits of "open AI": they don't promote auditing, or safety, or competition. Indeed, they often cut against these goals.

"Open AI" is a wordgame that exploits the malleability of "open," but also the ambiguity of the term "AI": "a grab bag of approaches, not… a technical term of art, but more … marketing and a signifier of aspirations." Hitching this vague term to "open" creates all kinds of bait-and-switch opportunities.

That's how you get Meta claiming that LLaMa2 is "open source," despite being licensed in a way that is absolutely incompatible with any widely accepted definition of the term:

https://blog.opensource.org/metas-llama-2-license-is-not-open-source/

LLaMa-2 is a particularly egregious openwashing example, but there are plenty of other ways that "open" is misleadingly applied to AI: sometimes it means you can see the source code, sometimes that you can see the training data, and sometimes that you can tune a model, all to different degrees, alone and in combination.

But even the most "open" systems can't be independently replicated, due to raw computing requirements. This isn't the fault of the AI industry – the computational intensity is a fact, not a choice – but when the AI industry claims that "open" will "democratize" AI, they are hiding the ball. People who hear these "democratization" claims (especially policymakers) are thinking about entrepreneurial kids in garages, but unless these kids have access to multi-billion-dollar data centers, they can't be "disruptors" who topple tech giants with cool new ideas. At best, they can hope to pay rent to those giants for access to their compute grids, in order to create products and services at the margin that rely on existing products, rather than displacing them.

The "open" story, with its claims of democratization, is an especially important one in the context of regulation. In Europe, where a variety of AI regulations have been proposed, the AI industry has co-opted the open source movement's hard-won narrative battles about the harms of ill-considered regulation.

For open source (and free software) advocates, many tech regulations aimed at taming large, abusive companies – such as requirements to surveil and control users to extinguish toxic behavior – wreak collateral damage on the free, open, user-centric systems that we see as superior alternatives to Big Tech. This leads to the paradoxical effect of passing regulation to "punish" Big Tech that end up simply shaving an infinitesimal percentage off the giants' profits, while destroying the small co-ops, nonprofits and startups before they can grow to be a viable alternative.

The years-long fight to get regulators to understand this risk has been waged by principled actors working for subsistence nonprofit wages or for free, and now the AI industry is capitalizing on lawmakers' hard-won consideration for collateral damage by claiming to be "open AI" and thus vulnerable to overbroad regulation.

But the "open" projects that lawmakers have been coached to value are precious because they deliver a level playing field, competition, innovation and democratization – all things that "open AI" fails to deliver. The regulations the AI industry is fighting also don't necessarily implicate the speech implications that are core to protecting free software:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2015/04/remembering-case-established-code-speech

Just think about LLaMa-2. You can download it for free, along with the model weights it relies on – but not detailed specs for the data that was used in its training. And the source-code is licensed under a homebrewed license cooked up by Meta's lawyers, a license that only glancingly resembles anything from the Open Source Definition:

https://opensource.org/osd/

Core to Big Tech companies' "open AI" offerings are tools, like Meta's PyTorch and Google's TensorFlow. These tools are indeed "open source," licensed under real OSS terms. But they are designed and maintained by the companies that sponsor them, and optimize for the proprietary back-ends each company offers in its own cloud. When programmers train themselves to develop in these environments, they are gaining expertise in adding value to a monopolist's ecosystem, locking themselves in with their own expertise. This a classic example of software freedom for tech giants and open source for the rest of us.

One way to understand how "open" can produce a lock-in that "free" might prevent is to think of Android: Android is an open platform in the sense that its sourcecode is freely licensed, but the existence of Android doesn't make it any easier to challenge the mobile OS duopoly with a new mobile OS; nor does it make it easier to switch from Android to iOS and vice versa.

Another example: MongoDB, a free/open database tool that was adopted by Amazon, which subsequently forked the codebase and tuning it to work on their proprietary cloud infrastructure.

The value of open tooling as a stickytrap for creating a pool of developers who end up as sharecroppers who are glued to a specific company's closed infrastructure is well-understood and openly acknowledged by "open AI" companies. Zuckerberg boasts about how PyTorch ropes developers into Meta's stack, "when there are opportunities to make integrations with products, [so] it’s much easier to make sure that developers and other folks are compatible with the things that we need in the way that our systems work."

Tooling is a relatively obscure issue, primarily debated by developers. A much broader debate has raged over training data – how it is acquired, labeled, sorted and used. Many of the biggest "open AI" companies are totally opaque when it comes to training data. Google and OpenAI won't even say how many pieces of data went into their models' training – let alone which data they used.

Other "open AI" companies use publicly available datasets like the Pile and CommonCrawl. But you can't replicate their models by shoveling these datasets into an algorithm. Each one has to be groomed – labeled, sorted, de-duplicated, and otherwise filtered. Many "open" models merge these datasets with other, proprietary sets, in varying (and secret) proportions.

Quality filtering and labeling for training data is incredibly expensive and labor-intensive, and involves some of the most exploitative and traumatizing clickwork in the world, as poorly paid workers in the Global South make pennies for reviewing data that includes graphic violence, rape, and gore.

Not only is the product of this "data pipeline" kept a secret by "open" companies, the very nature of the pipeline is likewise cloaked in mystery, in order to obscure the exploitative labor relations it embodies (the joke that "AI" stands for "absent Indians" comes out of the South Asian clickwork industry).

The most common "open" in "open AI" is a model that arrives built and trained, which is "open" in the sense that end-users can "fine-tune" it – usually while running it on the manufacturer's own proprietary cloud hardware, under that company's supervision and surveillance. These tunable models are undocumented blobs, not the rigorously peer-reviewed transparent tools celebrated by the open source movement.

If "open" was a way to transform "free software" from an ethical proposition to an efficient methodology for developing high-quality software; then "open AI" is a way to transform "open source" into a rent-extracting black box.

Some "open AI" has slipped out of the corporate silo. Meta's LLaMa was leaked by early testers, republished on 4chan, and is now in the wild. Some exciting stuff has emerged from this, but despite this work happening outside of Meta's control, it is not without benefits to Meta. As an infamous leaked Google memo explains:

Paradoxically, the one clear winner in all of this is Meta. Because the leaked model was theirs, they have effectively garnered an entire planet's worth of free labor. Since most open source innovation is happening on top of their architecture, there is nothing stopping them from directly incorporating it into their products.

https://www.searchenginejournal.com/leaked-google-memo-admits-defeat-by-open-source-ai/486290/

Thus, "open AI" is best understood as "as free product development" for large, well-capitalized AI companies, conducted by tinkerers who will not be able to escape these giants' proprietary compute silos and opaque training corpuses, and whose work product is guaranteed to be compatible with the giants' own systems.

The instrumental story about the virtues of "open" often invoke auditability: the fact that anyone can look at the source code makes it easier for bugs to be identified. But as open source projects have learned the hard way, the fact that anyone can audit your widely used, high-stakes code doesn't mean that anyone will.

The Heartbleed vulnerability in OpenSSL was a wake-up call for the open source movement – a bug that endangered every secure webserver connection in the world, which had hidden in plain sight for years. The result was an admirable and successful effort to build institutions whose job it is to actually make use of open source transparency to conduct regular, deep, systemic audits.

In other words, "open" is a necessary, but insufficient, precondition for auditing. But when the "open AI" movement touts its "safety" thanks to its "auditability," it fails to describe any steps it is taking to replicate these auditing institutions – how they'll be constituted, funded and directed. The story starts and ends with "transparency" and then makes the unjustifiable leap to "safety," without any intermediate steps about how the one will turn into the other.

It's a Magic Underpants Gnome story, in other words:

Step One: Transparency

Step Two: ??

Step Three: Safety

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5ih_TQWqCA

Meanwhile, OpenAI itself has gone on record as objecting to "burdensome mechanisms like licenses or audits" as an impediment to "innovation" – all the while arguing that these "burdensome mechanisms" should be mandatory for rival offerings that are more advanced than its own. To call this a "transparent ruse" is to do violence to good, hardworking transparent ruses all the world over:

https://openai.com/blog/governance-of-superintelligence

Some "open AI" is much more open than the industry dominating offerings. There's EleutherAI, a donor-supported nonprofit whose model comes with documentation and code, licensed Apache 2.0. There are also some smaller academic offerings: Vicuna (UCSD/CMU/Berkeley); Koala (Berkeley) and Alpaca (Stanford).

These are indeed more open (though Alpaca – which ran on a laptop – had to be withdrawn because it "hallucinated" so profusely). But to the extent that the "open AI" movement invokes (or cares about) these projects, it is in order to brandish them before hostile policymakers and say, "Won't someone please think of the academics?" These are the poster children for proposals like exempting AI from antitrust enforcement, but they're not significant players in the "open AI" industry, nor are they likely to be for so long as the largest companies are running the show:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4493900

I'm kickstarting the audiobook for "The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation," a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and make a new, good internet to succeed the old, good internet. It's a DRM-free book, which means Audible won't carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/18/openwashing/#you-keep-using-that-word-i-do-not-think-it-means-what-you-think-it-means

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs - Top Rated Fics (by hits and kudos on Ao3)

Be sure to show the authors some love and appreciation with kudos and comments on the fics you enjoyed!

✨ Likes are lovely, but please reblog to share this content with your mutuals! 😁

🟪 sacred word, bind me by @brokendrums // brokendrums [E, 8K] Tim takes a vow of silence, Hawk vows to break it.

🟪 we are tragically meant to be by @fuddlewuddle // fuddlewuddle [E, 1.5K] He looks softer in his sleep, Hawk muses; fingertips lightly skimming over the ridge of Tim’s cheek bone, the curve of his ear feeling the small indent from where the frames of his spectacles rest whenever he’s awake. Part 1 of fellow travelers

🟪 feeding on chaos and living in sin by @fuddlewuddle // fuddlewuddle [E, 2K] Tim doesn't expect Hawk to call. And even when he does, the call doesn't go as Tim expects. But then he should probably stop trying to predict what Hawkins Fuller will do. Part 2 of fellow travelers

🟪 more. by @redmyeyes // redmyeyes [E, 1.8K] "You would drop to your knees and blow me right here if I told you to," Hawk said, marveling at the realization. Part 2 of Fellow Travelers * *Red has their own series, not to be confused with fuddlewuddle's series of the same name. Two different series'--same name!

🟪 I'd walk a thousand miles without my shoes to make it work by @fuddlewuddle // fuddlewuddle [E, 1.5K] The strip of milk on Tim’s top lip gives Hawk ideas. Part 3 of Fellow Travelers

🟪 all through the midnight. by southernkiss [E, 9K] Hawk's eyes burned with lust and something dark, something that both terrified and excited Tim.

🟪 teacher's pet by @ascandalinpink // ascandalinpink [E, 10K, WIP] Tim’s first class for today is his first class ever in this particular elective. It’s a foreign affairs course taught by professor Fuller, whom Tim has never met, but he’s heard about him. All high praise, which leaves this course highly sought after.

As the professor enters the classroom and the chatter around him dies down, Tim understands perhaps why this course is so popular. And it might have nothing to do with the curriculum itself.

Or, Tim starts sleeping with and develops feelings for his college professor.

🟪 have you ever? by Cozy_coffee [M, 1.4K] “Has anyone ever licked that cute little ass of yours?”

A fic in which a bold Hawk introduces a somewhat shy Tim to the pleasures of rimming.

🟪 a joy, hard learned by @partialresonance // partialresonance [E, 12K, WIP] Tim and Hawk get snowed in together.

Later, Tim comes back from the war a changed man.

🟪 perhaps, perhaps, perhaps it's real by drabbleswabbles [NR, 16K, WIP] And then it happened. The metallic screech of the gate, the shuffle of men stepping out beyond the prison walls. And suddenly there he was. His hair was shorter than he’d ever seen it. And his glasses were different. But it was him. Their eyes met. Tim stared at him in wide-eyed shock before recognition melted his features into a confused outrage.

Basically a fix-it in which Hawk finds himself back in the early 70s.

🟪 sweet by Kimora_V [M, 1.4K] Tim noticed how Hawk is being sweet lately.

Or, what happened before the cuddle scene in episode 5.

🟪 this spells love by Cozy_coffee [M, 540] When Hawk gently cups his cheek and calls him ‘my beautiful boy’ and looks at him with nothing but pure, everlasting love, that is all Tim’s heart needed in this tender moment.

🟪 flame trees by @waterlilyrose // WaterlilyRose [G, 1K] (“I received a package from Marcus a few days later. It had been sent by Tim. I thought that Tim’s last gift (and a gentle fuck you to me) was that paperweight. But no...”

“What did he send?” Kimberley asked gently. Her father had looked at her and almost seemed ready to tell her… but then he closed his mouth.

“More than I deserved” was all the answer he gave. Kimberley wondered if he would even be Hawkins Fuller anymore if he didn’t have some secrets.)

Or, Hawk keeps Tim's final parting gift close as he faces his mortality.

🟪 lost somewhere by @trainofcommand // anagrrl [E, 1K] Humming to himself a little, fingers digging into his palms briefly, Tim leans forward.

🟪 together, here and now by Kimora_V [NR, 1.8K] Hawk and Tim are happy, set in the modern day. Because I am just tired of sad stories all the time.

🟪 love by ikharys [E, 1.8K] "It's going to be okay," Hawk whispers.

Something in Tim's eyes makes it clear that he doesn't believe it, but he's not willing to argue.

Or, the cabin scene, but a little different.

🟪 mad about the boy by @redmyeyes redmyeyes [E, 2.8K] “Tell me,” Hawk said, tilting Tim’s head back to give his forehead a quick kiss, “what does my boy want for his birthday?”

“Am I still? Your boy?” Part 3 of Fellow Travelers

🟪 you're my religion by anonymous [E, 956] After Tim and Hawk’s conversation on the bench, Tim does go to Church, and eventually finds that Hawk has attended the same mass.

Things go awry in the chapel.

🟪 i want you to fuck me by @carnivalrow // nightfall_in_winter [E, 2K] THAT scene from Episode 8 but slightly different. :) Chapter 1 is Hawk's POV, Chapter 2 is Tim's POV.

🟪 who do you belong to? by mrschesapeakeripper [E, 2.5K] “That’s my good boy.” All those years later, and the praise still made him blush.

Or, the missing scene from the mutual masturbation episode. None of that "no touching" nonsense.

[coachs-locker-room]

Are there any openings for assistant coach I didn't know I applied for?

Welcome, thanks for coming - if you want to follow me into my office, I can explain a bit more about the position and get a few items for the application process that you seem to have missed off your original form for corporate. You say that you have no memory of applying, and you have a job already? I'll admit that your interview technique is somewhat irregular, but I'll write down that your flexibility depends on the scale of the welcoming package. How does that sound?

I see from the curriculum you handed in that your experience in Sports physiology is… yes, mostly on the receptive end. Not a problem, this can be easily overcorrected with a Chronivac course module or two. I should remind you that we are a team in this establishment, and that comes with a few particularities. This training video will go into the details, but while that plays I want you to know a few things about being under my employment. You've been used to calling me "Coach" all this time, but after your initiation, your clients will be saying that to you instead. You are there to guide them, steer them, and bring out their best qualities no matter what it takes.

From today, you'll be calling me "Boss", understood? Good lad.

Here's a key to your new staff locker, and a spare uniform that you should get changed into to get started on your first shift. Don't want to keep those clients waiting!

—

If you enjoyed this tf, you can send me a tip on Ko-Fi and for more tf locker room posts and to request your own, follow @coachs-locker-room

[toxinellebug]

Shadybug & ClawNoir First Receiving the Miraculous Part 2

The first week of school was just as much of a waste of time as Adrien expected;

The curriculum was behind what he was used to, way behind. 

     He never realized how frustratingly boring it would be to have to wait for a room full of people to catch up with the simple basics of particle physics.

The other students were annoying. 

He didn’t mind signing autographs for his fans the first time Chloe paraded him around- it was even nice to have a little extra attention.

     But then they KEPT approaching him; asking him to go places with them, his contact information, or asking for photos (thankfully he had the great excuse of his contract which prohibits his image being used for anything, personal or commercial use, without the written consent of the Gabriel Brand.) 

            He liked modeling, he liked having fans, and he liked receiving praise, but that didn’t mean he wanted people trying to hug him and use him to blast their selfies all over social media.

                It’s called “personal space”.

A concept that still went over Chloe Bourgeois’ head, apparently…

      He was grateful that she had lunch delivered directly from the Le Grand Paris, since the food, or, what passed for food at the school cafeteria was lackluster at best.

           But she insisted on sitting so close that their elbows touched.

                   It was so uncomfortable.

(Also, he couldn’t just eat his food in peace, he had to listen to Chloe loudly rate each portion of the meal and whether it was up to her standards or if the chef was lacking that day and whether or not she needed to be replaced, before looking over her shoulder to snicker at some dark skinned girl in glasses who glared daggers right back at her. Chloe’s redheaded flunky, er, that is… Chloe’s redheaded “friend”, found this hilarious and agreed with every word and giggled when the dark skinned girl would storm out of the cafeteria in a huff.)

He also hated the way Chloe would cling to his arm when he was just trying to walk between classes. 

               He lost track of how many times he excused himself to make a quick stop in the boy’s toilet just to get himself some breathing room!

              If Chloe’s mother wasn’t such a big name in the Fashion industry as well as chief editor of ‘Style’ magazine, Adrien would gladly tell her to back off.  Unfortunately, she is, and he doesn’t want to think about the backlash his father would receive, or the nasty article about himself that would headline ‘Style’s next issue.

He also wished Chloe’s “friend” would stop offering to do his homework and take all his notes. That was weird.

              The only thing somewhat worthwhile is fencing on the team under M. D'Argencourt; private lessons were fine, but it is more interesting to have different opponents to practice against for a change.

Other than that, school is tedious and suffocating.

Now that the week is FINALLY at an end, all he wants to do is go to his room, play his mother’s   banned bootleg vinyl copy of Peu-Être’s ‘Robot☆Monster’, and listen to ‘L'Esprit Se Meurt’ as he collapses on his bed and contemplates why his Father insists on subjecting him to this torture.

His plans come to a halt, however, upon seeing a strange package waiting for him atop his desk.

         It’s… Brown?

His father was generous, and had a habit of giving gifts he personally chose. So a present for enduring his first week of school wouldn’t be odd, per say….

      But the gifts his father wrapped always had colorful, patterned, sometimes even textured paper, and were always matched with a ribbon in complimentary colors, tied in intricate bows, as if it were a submission to an art exhibit.

        There was no way someone as extra as his father would use such simple brown, parcel paper.

The more logical explanation was that it came in with his fan-mail, but that didn’t make sense either;

              It was un-opened.

The Gorilla was diligent, and he always opened and inspected every piece of fan-mail before it ever reached Adrien’s eyes.

As much as Adrien liked modeling, being famous had some drawbacks, namely obsessed fans that were more than a little scary.

        His bodyguard always checked to look for anything creepy (requests for feet pics, or locks of his hair), obscene (explicit fanfiction featuring Adrien and the sender that results in a restraining order being issued), or downright nasty (underwear that they would like him to sign, wear, then mail back). 

There was NO WAY the Gorilla would leave an un-opened package from a fan in Adrien’s room.

              Unless….

Looking at the package more closely, disregarding the accompanying envelope which only had his name on the front, he took notice that there were zero postage markings of any kind.

         Meaning it was delivered IN PERSON.

(Not that it was unheard of for people to just drop things directly at the gate, or in one bizarre instance, toss things over the fence, giving the Gorilla a ‘bomb scare’ and causing Adrien to wonder what kind of work his bodyguard did in the States before coming here.)

      ….Didn’t Pâtisseries use brown paper?

Curiosity over his Umbrella Thief had been impossible to ignore;

(see older post “Shadybug/Claw Noir Reverse Umbrella scene Headcanon”, also, someone PLEASE teach me how to link)

He didn’t have any classes with her, and he guessed she was too shy to try an approach him like the other students. 

       His photoshoot schedule, Chinese lessons, and Fencing practice meant he couldn’t just wait around at the school gates after classes had ended for the day.

So, he did the reasonable thing and asked his bodyguard to look into it. Not that he asked him to stalk her or anything! (That would be weird and super illegal.) Just, well, keep an eye out for her, maybe see if he could learn anything from a distance, without being creepy of course.

It had taken him nearly the entire week.

      For reasons Adrien still did not understand,

his description of “cute girl, leather jacket, passion-streaked midnight hair, and eyes that crease into crescent moons behind a wistful smile, disguising a forlorn soul adrift in a sea of mediocrity, hadn’t been specific enough.

But eventually, while Adrien was at Fencing, the Gorilla had managed to casually follow the girl in pigtails at a distance long enough to witness her entering a nearby bakery, from the private side entrance reserved for those that took residence in the building.

His Umbrella Thief wasn’t just a shy fan, her parents ran the best pâtisserie and boulangerie in Paris!

Well, that would explain how she is able to attend a private school like Collège Françoise Dupont.

Perhaps this was a package of pastries from her parents’ store, maybe there was even a message confessing her admiration for him inside?

He could use that as an opportunity to approach her, express his gratitude for sweets, and offer to treat her to the movies… Strictly as a gesture of fan-appreciation, of course.

Yes, if was definitely the anticipation of choquettes and Pain Au Chocolat, and nothing else that made his heart race as he tore away at the brown paper.

But before he could open the flaps of the cardboard box, another thought occurred to him:

          You could fit an extendable umbrella into a box this size.

What if… What if HIS umbrella was inside?

What if the girl had noticed she was being stalk-FOLLOWED, and thought he was angry?

What if what was waiting inside was a tear-stained apology letter begging him not to contact the Enforcers and have her arrested on charges of petty theft???

That would make it difficult to ask her out on a da- OUTING! Ask her out on an OUTING to the cinema purely for her sake! *ahem*

Now, instead of his heart racing, his stomach was twisting. 

Other than the whole stealing thing, she was probably a nice girl… He certainly didn’t want her to feel upset, or want to avoid him.

      But, if she didn’t want anything to do with him ever again over this, was there anything he could do?

Holding his breath, Adrien opened the box with trepidation and discovered….

…An antistatic electronics foam pouch and a jewelry box.

Adrien felt his mood sour even further as he unsealed the pouch.

It was a mini-tablet.

Forget ‘sour’, he was PISSED.

He recognized the tablet; His father used a similar one for video meetings with clients, distributing managers, coordinators, and other people he didn’t have time to meet with in person.

A list that now included his own son, apparently.

The jewelry box no doubt contained the latest Gabriel brand accessory that Adrien was expected to model for an upcoming shoot that his father couldn’t be bothered to take time out of his busy schedule to inform him face to face.

It took all the self-restraint Adrien had not to chuck the stupid thing out a window (he had plenty of them to choose from).

You know what? This was fine. 

    If his father could lock himself up inside his atelier, then Adrien could do the same!

Tossing the package and its contents aside, Adrien left his room and marched downstairs to go inform his personal chef that from now on he would be taking all his meals in his room.

Father could swap out the table de salle à manger with a terrarium for all he cared!

And Adrien doesn’t care!

….Though, he expected his father to care, at least a little.

Mom would’ve cared.

Adrien didn’t have much of an appetite, picking at his meal while he waited for his father to come knock on his door with an apology that never came.

(Gabriel heard that Adrien requested his meals in his room and assumed his son was pouting over being forced to go to school. Since Gabriel can recall what it’s like to be a moody teenager, he figured it was best to give his son time to calm down, and he would try to invite him down for breakfast tomorrow.

He’s also trying not to be hurt that Adrien calls him “Father” now, instead of “Dad”).

Alright, if Father was too stubborn to show himself, then Adrien knew just how to grab his attention;

      Pushing aside his now cold dinner, Adrien picked up the discarded tablet and found the side power button.

             He was going to use this little “gift” to open a video call and give his Father a piece of his mind!

What he didn’t expect was the red, grid-like laser scan of his face, nor the A.I. voice that announced “Identity confirmation complete: Adrien Agreste, approved.”

Ok, he had to admit that was pretty cool.

The screen lit up red, and all thoughts of Adrien’s Father went out the window.

                        The Supreme.

The Familiar red and black symbol with an ‘X’ in the center; representing world-wide jurisdiction and demanding compliance.

This was a huge deal. Huge, and more than a little terrifying.

    He was only 13 (his birthday was in two weeks though), what on earth could The Supreme, the force that governs the entire planet, possibly want from him???

He seriously doubted this was fan-mail.

He tapped the small flashing icon on the bottom left corner, pulling up a message screen.

Whatever Adrien had been expecting, it wasn’t… Whatever the heck this was.

Kwamis? Powers? Rules? It sounded like the synopsis of a game show.

This had to be a joke. But he didn’t know anyone with such a twisted sense of humor.

Even the most deviant and corrupt wouldn’t have the spine to use the symbol of The Supreme, not even mockingly. The penalty wasn’t worth the risk.

Still, how could he take any of this seriously? 

Magic rings? Power of Destruction? 

       As if! He wasn’t some naive little kid who believed in fairytales like the Genie in the Lamp.

Was it like, a metaphor? Or some kind of coded message he was meant to decipher?

But if that was the case, shouldn’t there be a substitution key or at least some kind of hint?

       Wait-

There had been an envelope, hadn’t there?

Of course! Why hadn’t he opened that first??

Scrambling around, Adrien located the envelope that had been knocked aside and fell beneath his desk chair.

It is a simple, white envelope with his name written in calligraphy.

    Inside is a note, written in that same calligraphy, on what he recognizes as Xuan Paper:

     “M. Adrien Agreste, you have been chosen.

          The bird in the gilded cage sings because captivity is all it has ever known. 

       The items being entrusted to you are a matter of utmost secrecy and should be used with discretion. 

       May they teach you the melody you have longed for.

      Please ensure you are alone.”

…Well, that was super cryptic and incredibly unhelpful.

Crumbling up the note, Adrien examines the tablet again; there are no other icons other than the text screen with the list of “instructions” and rules to be followed.

So, equally useless. Great.

The only thing he hasn’t checked is the little black hexagon box.

The tablet mentioned a ring… Oooooh, like a de-coder ring?? That would make more sense than singing birds!

Finally he was getting somewhere- 

What he actually got was blinded by a flash of green light as soon as he opened the lid.

Waiting for the light to fade enough to safely open his eyes, Adrien came face to face with a black and angry looking… Gerbil?

A gerbil with antennae, hands on it’s hips, a twitching tail, and the symbol of The Supreme stamped on it’s face…. 

      And it was floating.

Merde! It was FLOATING!!!!!!

Adrien glanced from the tablet, to the black ring in the box, back to the fuming ‘kwami’.

This was real.

Adrien’s heart was racing again, albeit for an entirely different reason.

His cheeks hurt as he grinned for the first time since he can’t remember when.

Snatching the ring and putting it on, he said the transformation phrase.

The mean looking gerbil/cat/kwami-thing disappears into his ring and he is enveloped in green light, magic washing over him and surging through him; it feels right, like his entire life has been leading up to this moment!

Gone was the preppy, boy-next-door look of the Gabriel brand.

His hair went from blond to a spiky green, and his green eyes were now a toxic purple with black slits behind a black mask. 

      Cat ears? Sure, why not?

Clawed gloves, leather jacket, mace ball collar, spiked boots and belt?

Oh yeah, he was feline dur à cuire!

He rushed to the windows, threw one open and leapt out into the night. He didn’t have a plan and he didn’t really care. It was time to find something to break!

—————————————

The Supreme gets a notification on his personal device;

     Both tablets have been activated.

Now is the time to let the children have fun; let them play about in the city and revel in their new super abilities.

   Ah, to be young and have so little self-restraint….

They will no doubt enjoy themselves… For a while at least.

But the more they use their powers, the quicker things will be set into motion;

      It will start as nothing more than dull aches, unpleasant but not at all hindering. But those aches will only continue to grow, becoming painful marks, eating away at flesh, making them weak and drained when they are without their transformations to empower them.

Nothing in this world is free, after all.

Arrogant teenagers will revert back into frightened children, afraid of what is happening to their bodies but terrified of revealing to anyone the strange marking that they cannot, dare not, explain.

After a satisfactory time has passed, he will transmit another message to their tablets. A message of salvation.

For a price, of course.

He will offer to reverse the damage caused by their use of the Miraculous, to whichever one of them manages to retrieve the jewels that were stolen from him.

But only one.

Competition can be quite motivating, especially when one’s life is on the line.

PART 1

[mysticmellowlove]

Can we have general teen yan hcs x fem reader? I’m homeschooled and don’t plan on going to public school so maybe he is also homeschooled or is in public school whichever is fine. Also…can he be like a year or so older? Much appreciated.

warnings; yan male, fem pronouns, more fluff, he gets me frfr, stalking,

Homeschool wasn't that bad to be honest.

Sure it took up most of your days and the curriculum was horrifically boring... but at least you were comfortable.

The only problem was your guardians, every adult only wants the best for their charge and homeschooling got lonely sometimes.

That's why you were signed up for a pen pal service with other teens like you. As you progressed through the grades you'd talk to someone new.

Girls who liked maths, boys who liked sports but then there was this one different boy.

You came across him by chance when his letter accidentally found its way to you. He was a grade up and by the sounds of it he was absolutely in love with science.

There was something magnetic about this boy so even though you were only allowed to talk to others at your 'level' you sent a reply over to him.

That's how it all started.

The two of you became friends quickly, sharing stories about what it was like to be homeschooled.

He got you in a way that no one else did, all the other kids had extracurriculars but this guy was alone just like you.

He seemed to have this uncanny ability to cheer you up when you were feeling down.

Soon he knew everything about you and you knew everything about him!

One day he sent over a little care package. Snacks, candles, soft plush teddies

Every night you snuggle up to it unknowing that he is listening to your heartbeat on the other end

Always watching from his window that overlooked your own, just across the street and yet still so far away

He was always so helpful as well, suggesting things that would make schooling easier. Resources and helpful videos were sent your way.

Soon you got his social media details as well and moved your chats online so you could speak in real time.

So when he suggested that you meet up you agreed. He was just like you, same interests and you two were in the same boat.

Besides, whenever he suggested things before they always turned out well, he was so reliable.

[truthwillsetyoufree13]

This weekend I watched one of my favorite movies "On the Basis of Sex" which is about the first case which the late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg tried. It concerned the tax law at the time where a caregiver's credit could be given only if the caregiver was a woman. Her client was an unmarried man who cared for his mother. The movie really highlights how women's rights in the US during the late 60s and 70s were still so oppressive. I didn't know that women couldn't open a credit card unless their husband agreed and signed her up for one. That changed in 1975. Women couldn't work OT in Oregon. Females in the military had to serve longer than men for their retirement packages. Columbia University finally started admitting women in 1981. Most Ivy league schools had separate schools for women with a more "appropriate" (whatever that means) curriculum. The ERA (Equal Rights Amendment) was never ratified. The Pill could only be prescribed to married women, at first, because to prescribe it to single women would encourage prostitution and promiscuity. Those laws were struck down in 1972...52 years ago. I remember when teachers had to quit teaching when they became pregnant and began to show because it showed they were having sex and children might be led astray. I remember in 1st grade an announcement came on one afternoon and it was decided that girls could start wearing pants to school. I was so happy! It meant I didn't freeze in the winter and didn't have to worry about some stupid boy flipping up my dress to try and see my underwear. I always wore shorts underneath my skirt for protection. Why should girls have to wear such items? Maybe that's why I don't like to wear dresses to this day. To me, they were and still are a sign of oppression. Some jobs required that women quit working when they got married.

My daughter and granddaughter, fortunately, did not grow up in such a world. They have always known they could go to college, aspire to do what they want, get the proper medication for birth control without having to be "married", and have the vote. I hope we are not moving backwards in this country. I am so afraid but I do have hope. What is it about women and women's bodies which drives this fight for us? Why has it been so difficult for us to just control our own bodies and destinies? Most Americans don't seem to feel the same way about women and women's rights as they did in the 1970s and if my grand daughter's attitude is anything to go one, these young women have loud strong voices and opinions about the rights they have known their whole lives. That gives me hope.

[sarkariresultdude]

Inside Harvard University Results: What They Mean and Why They Matter

 Harvard University, established in 1636, is renowned internationally for its instructional excellence, rigorous curriculum, and legacy of producing international leaders. As one of the Ivy League institutions, its standards for assessment and the consequences it publishes reflect its commitment to highbrow rigor and innovation. This article explores Harvard University’s result framework, offering insights into admissions results, academic opinions, grading structures, and their importance inside the broader context of higher education.

Harward University Result 

The Context of Harvard Results: Admissions

One of the most giant results at Harvard University pertains to its admissions technique. With an attractiveness fee that hovers around 3-five% in recent years, the outcome of the admission choice is an eagerly awaited result for hundreds of excessive-achieving college students globally. Let us delve deeper into how those results unfold.

The Application Process

Harvard University’s admissions method is holistic, considering a mixture of instructional achievements, extracurricular involvements, essays, guidelines, and interviews. The Office of Admissions evaluates every application to recognize the applicant’s character, ability, and health for the university’s dynamic environment.

Admissions Results Announcement

Admissions choices are usually launched in 3 phases:

Early Action (December): For students who follow in the early spherical. Although non-binding, this section allows students to get an early selection.

Regular Decision (March/April): The majority of applicants get hold of their decision throughout this segment.

Waitlist and Rolling Admissions (May-July): Candidates on the waitlist can also get hold of a proposal based on area availability.

Results are communicated via an internet portal and are regularly accompanied by way of a respectable letter. The results encompass recognition, deferral (for early applicants), waitlist, or denial.

Acceptance Trends

In current years, Harvard has reported a regular rise in applications, leading to extended competitiveness. Results replicate a diverse, talented cohort, with successful candidates excelling academically and demonstrating management in numerous fields.

Academic Results at Harvard

Harvard University’s instructional results encapsulate the overall performance of its students across undergraduate, graduate, and professional packages. These results represent the fruits of rigorous coursework, research initiatives, and examinations.

Grading System

Harvard employs a letter grading system, complemented through qualitative feedback in lots of guides. Here’s a breakdown:

A (Excellent): Outstanding performance and mastery of the issue.

B (Good): Strong performance with room for improvement.

C (Satisfactory): Adequate knowledge of the fabric.

D (Poor): Barely meeting the direction necessities.

E/F (Fail): Did no longer meet the minimal standards.

Additionally, a few guides allow college students to choose Pass/Fail grading, mainly for exploratory or non-center lessons.

GPA and Transcripts

The Grade Point Average (GPA) is calculated primarily based on a weighted scale, generally starting from 0.Zero to 4. Zero. Transcripts also include narrative reviews for certain programs, imparting a comprehensive picture of a pupil’s performance.

 Publication of Results

Results are commonly launched at the quit of each semester via the student portal. For very last-yr college students, cumulative effects are pivotal for graduation honors and differences such as summa cum laude, magna cum laude, and cum laude.

Evaluation Framework

Academic Rigor

Harvard’s assessment device prioritizes important questioning, originality, and intellectual interest. Assessments encompass essays, trouble units, study papers, group tasks, and oral shows. Examinations frequently demand deep analytical and interpretive skills.

Continuous Assessment

Rather than relying totally on the last tests, many guides include nonstop evaluation, including quizzes, magnificence participation, and mid-term initiatives. This approach guarantees a holistic evaluation of scholar talents.

 Feedback Mechanisms

Professors and coaching fellows offer detailed remarks on assignments, permitting students to refine their knowledge and performance for the duration of the semester.

Impact of Results on Students

Harvard’s academic effects profoundly affect college students' future opportunities, whether in graduate research, careers, or entrepreneurial ventures.

Graduate School and Fellowships

Outstanding consequences at Harvard regularly pave the manner for popularity into top-tier graduate programs. Many college students also secure prestigious fellowships, consisting of the Rhodes, Marshall, or Fulbright scholarships.

Career Prospects

Employers worldwide value a Harvard education. Strong academic outcomes enhance a graduate’s employability and open doorways to competitive roles in industries like finance, consulting, technology, regulation, and academia.

 Alumni Achievements

Harvard’s alumni community is one of the maximum influential globally. Many graduates attribute their fulfillment to the rigorous schooling and remarks obtained all through their educational adventure at Harvard.

 Special Programs and Research Results

In addition to conventional academic consequences, Harvard also publishes the effects of diverse unique programs and research projects.

5.1. Research Excellence

Harvard’s research output is a benchmark in academia. The results of faculty and scholar studies projects are regularly published in main journals and impact a wide array of disciplines.

5.2. Professional Schools

Harvard’s professional schools, inclusive of the Business School, Law School, and Medical School, preserve separate assessment and result structures. Their results are instrumental in shaping the careers of future leaders in those domain names.

Transparency and Integrity

Harvard is dedicated to maintaining the highest requirements of transparency and integrity in its evaluation tactics. Mechanisms together with nameless grading, peer evaluation, and appeals make certain fairness.

 Academic Integrity

Students are expected to stick to strict codes of academic integrity. Results mirror no longer only academic competence but also moral behavior.

Reporting and Analytics

The university periodically releases reviews on aggregate educational overall performance, offering insights into tendencies and regions for development.

 Global Significance of Harvard Results

Harvard’s popularity amplifies the significance of its consequences, which can be regularly viewed as a worldwide trend of excellence.

Influence on Education Systems

Many universities and institutions worldwide version their assessment frameworks on Harvard’s, emphasizing comprehensive checks and interdisciplinary getting to know.

 Benchmark for Success

Results from Harvard set benchmarks for fulfillment in several fields. The group’s position in shaping global idea leaders underscores the price of its assessment system.

Challenges and Innovations

Addressing Stress

Given the competitive nature of Harvard, students often face giant stress to carry out. The college presents assets consisting of counseling and mentorship to help college students manage strain and balance their academic hobbies.

Embracing Technology

Harvard constantly integrates technology into its evaluation structures. Innovations consisting of online grading tools and studying analytics beautify the accuracy and efficiency of results.

 Equity in Education

Harvard is dedicated to selling fairness. Initiatives like need-blind admissions ensure that results mirror benefits in preference to socioeconomic history.