#reports riddled with errors | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-captain89 · 1 month ago

Text

Office Arrangement

Your work is usually flawless, so I was so surprised at your recent mistakes. One or two here and there is perfectly acceptable, but you were making typos and messing up copies with increased frequency each day. Every time a stopped by your desk to check up on you, you seemed to be either in a daze, your mind drifting away to another world, or face deep in your phone, only to slam it on your desk face-down the second you noticed I was approaching.

One day I approached from the back hallway, out of your line of sight. Whatever you were reading on your phone was so distracting you never heard me walk up and stand over your shoulder. I watched as your scrolled through tumblr, liking posts about girls getting stoned and used by strangers, or whores being used as free use sex objects on the subway. Images of naked girls tied up tight seemed to have you gripping your phone a little tighter, before liking that post, too. Then I saw a truly intriguing post. It was an illustration on a girl tied up and stuffed under a desk. The next image she was in the same position, but her boss was now sitting at the desk, and his cock was fully down her throat. The way she was tied and situated under the desk, she couldn't move an inch.

Just as you clicked on the heart icon to like the post, I shifted my weight on my feet and you heard my shoe scuff on the floor. You slammed your phone down and looked over to me, asking if I needed help with anything. "Oh no, sweetie, I've got everything I need." And walked away. You mind must've been racing! Did I see what you were looking at, or did you put your phone away fast enough? What did I mean when I said "I've got everything I need"? Did my smile seem mischievous to you?

I spent the rest of the week considering how to act. Your work improved quite a bit. Seems like you were a little more careful about browsing tumblr on your phone, but you were still daydreaming, and still making some mistakes here and there. Finally, after a week of deep thought, I called you into my office Friday afternoon.

"Shut the door." You obey. "Come." You walk over to my desk and stand with your arms by your side. "Sit." You take a seat across from me. I fight the urge to call you a good girl.

"I notice you seem to be a bit...distracted at work recently..." "Yes sir." "Your once flawless work has been riddled with errors." You bow your head down. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." "I'm going to keep a very close eye on you. Very close. If I don't see improvements, there will be repercussions, is that understood?" "Yes, Sir" "Look me in the eyes and tell me." You raise your head, and I can tell your blushing a little bit. "I understand, Sir, I will do better." "Good girl. Now, back to work." Your cheeks are bright red as you stand up and leave my office. Now I've got your attention, lets see how this plays out.

The next few weeks go by, uneventfully. Your work is once again flawless, but your attitude has changed. You straighten up when I walk by, and greet me in the morning with a cheerful "good morning, Sir" and I can't help but to smile each time. After about 3 weeks of flawless work, I come in one Monday morning to review your work and find a typo. Just one, but I make a note of it. I circle it in red pen and drop it off on your desk. Then Tuesday morning comes, and I find yet another typo. More red pen, back on your desk. Two strikes. Wednesday and Thursday you were once again flawless, but Friday morning, I find 3 typos, and an entire sheet missing from my report. That's three strikes. I mark up your mistakes with my red pen, and drop them off with you. "See me in my office at 5 today." Your head bows down. "Yes, Sir."

5 o'clock hits, and as the rest of the office packs up to leave, you enter my office. "Shut the door, and step over here." You shut the door and walk over to my desk, standing next to the empty chair waiting for my command to sit. It never comes. "I told you I would be keeping a very close eye on you, did I not?" "Yes, sir, you did." " And what did I say would happen if you didn't improve " "There would be repercussions, Sir." "Very good. Now over the course of this week, you have made 5 typos and omitted an entire page from a report. How do you think I should punish you?" "However you see fit, Sir." I stand up and walk over next to you. "Good answer. Now, bend over." Your eyes widen and you look at me. "Sir?" "Do you trust me?" "Yes Sir, I trust you." "Good. Now bend over." You're hesitant, but you bend over my desk and lay your head down on the hard wooden desk. "Hands behind you, wrists crossed on the small of your back." You obey, and I stand there and observe you for a moment, before grabbing a ruler from my desk. "Count them, out out for me, sweetheart." And i smack the ruler across your ass. "One." "One what?" "One, Sir." "Good girl." Smack "Two, sir." Smack "Three, sir" Smack, smack. "Four, sir. Five, sir." "Good girl. Now stand. That was 5 spanks for 5 typos. A missing page is a much more serious infraction. You have two options. Option A, you come in an hour early Monday morning and receive the punishment I see fit for the infraction, or option b, you come in Monday at your normal time, and you will be written up as any other employee would be. There will be no further physical punishments, and you will go back to be treated as every other employee. Is that understood?" "Yes Sir" "Good. Now take the weekend and consider these options. I look forward to seeing you Monday morning." "Thank you, sir" and you leave the office. Monday morning, I'm sat in my office. I couldn't sleep, so I've been here since 5 am. I hear the office door open just before 7. At your desk you find a note on top of a few sheets of paper, and a gift box. The note reads "if your reading this, than you've chosen to show up an hour early to receive your punishment. Read the contract I've left on your desk thoroughly. If you agree to all terms, sign and leave in the mailbox on my office door. Take the box to the restroom and exchange your work clothes for the outfit inside. Return to my office and enter. I will be waiting." After waiting for what feels like an eternity, I heard heels clicking down the hall. You've exchanged your typical sneakers for the heels in the box. As you step into my office, I'm greeted with the sight of you: tall black high heels, a teeny black latex skirt that just barely covers your ass, and a crop top, black, with the words "office whore" written across your chest. A pile of neatly coiled rope sits on my desk. You silently approach my desk, and bow your head down. I walk up to you, grabbing a length of rope. As I tie your wrists behind your back, I begin to inform you how your Monday will go:

"An entire page missing from a report is a major infraction. I've updated your schedule on the work calendar as out of office. As far as everyone else knows, you'll be out all day running errands for me. The reality is that you will be tied up tight under my desk, with a ring gag in your mouth. I will use your mouth and grope your body all day as much as I please. Whenever I cum in your mouth, you are to swallow every drop and lick my cock clean. If a single drop hits the floor, and will be spanked while you lick my floor clean. "

By the time I finish, you are fully secured under my desk. You test your restraints and feel that cant move an inch. I unzip my pants and present my cock to your mouth, which you eagerly take. "Good girl, now keep quiet while I hop on this conference call."

2K notes · View notes

mariacallous · 24 days ago

Text

The White House MAHA Report has been roundly panned for pushing dubious science, citing studies that don’t exist, and being riddled with errors.

One major reason it may have been so garbled? The authors relied on AI, experts told The Washington Post.

Tell-tale signs of AI usage in the report, which aimed to explain the causes of poor U.S. health outcomes, included repetition and the wholesale invention of studies and authors in its citations, per The Post.

“Some references include ‘oaicite’ attached to URLs — a definitive sign that the research was collected using artificial intelligence,” the publication explains. “The presence of ‘oaicite’ is a marker indicating use of OpenAI, a U.S. artificial intelligence company.”

White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt tried to downplay the errors in the report during a briefing on Thursday, casting its substantive flaws as “formatting issues.”

606 notes · View notes

veebeeboo109 · 5 months ago

Text

Cleaning up the Timeline

{My contribution to the fandom. The obligatory "everyone lives together in one big house and they kiss kiss kiss, and they love love love each other.}

Read on ao3.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Maid AU, Eventual Smut. SFW (For now) Mentions of grief and severe depression.

Chapter 1: Suspended?

Sitting on a park bench in the middle of winter is not how you thought you’d be spending this afternoon. Though, you aren’t sure where you would like to be at the moment– shivering and sniffling as the wind whips at your face is not it.

Involuntary Leave. God, the sound of Jenna’s voice just wouldn’t leave your mind. She had said it so softly, like speaking to a baby bird. Like the last vestiges of your sanity would crumble if she spoke above a whisper.

After the explosion that had– that had….After the explosion, you’d had a hard time. You did your best. Getting up in the morning. Reporting for duty. Killing a wanderer here and there. But you must have gotten lost somewhere along the way. Because a week turned into a month and then suddenly, Captain Jenna is in front of you with a sad expression and a packet of papers neatly tucked into a folder.

Apparently, you hadn’t shown up for work several times this month, and when you did you refused to go on patrols. Even your desk work was shoddy and riddled with obvious errors.

Tara had tried to cover for you on multiple occasions, but everyone at this point had noticed your zombie state. Though, Jenna had been kinder when she mentioned it.

“You’re off your game.” She had said. “Take some time. I’ve found some counselors and put their information in the folder. When you’re ready, your position here will be waiting. I swear.”

The wind picks up, slapping your hair across your face and pulling you from your thoughts. The tips of your fingers had long since gone numb, and your feet feel like dead weights.

Now what? All the information in the packet, yet no one had told your landlord that it was temporary. That bald jerk had gotten the notification of a change in your employment, and the next day you received a message requesting the keys.

If you had a nickel for every time you’d lost everything. You’d have two.

Snot drips down from your nose, the cold once again insisting on reminding you of its presence. Just as you go to wipe it away, your phone buzzes.

I just left the hospital. I’ll be there in ten.

-Zayne.

That’s right. You were supposed to have lunch today. Zayne had insisted at the last check-up on it. He wasn’t very subtle in his worry for you, but a free lunch sounds like just what you need right now.

You had enough money left for a storage unit for your furniture, and had packed everything else in an oversized suitcase. The poor baby-pink luggage had only seen one other use before now, and it stands out against the snow that’s beginning to stick to the ground.

You have to double check which restaurant you’re meeting at, the details escaping your already flighty mind. It isn’t a far walk, which is good, because the double digit number in your bank account bars you against a hotel, let alone a taxi.

With your suitcase at your side, you make your way to the restaurant. The little blackboard sign out front displays an overly enthusiastic caricature of a mug, and advertises the new options for hot cocoa.

Of course Zayne would pick a place like this. You enter into the blissfully well-heated establishment and scan the room for a familiar mop of charcoal hair.

“What good timing.” A dulcet voice rumbles from behind you. With a slight jump, you turn, seeing the very man you were looking for enter. Speckles of snowflakes dot his hair and decorate the beige of his coat. He smiles gently and unwinds the scarf from around his neck. “Shall we sit?”

You follow him to a corner seat next to a window and tuck your suitcase next to your chair. Now that you’re sitting in a climate controlled room, you release a bone-deep sigh.

“You really should be wearing gloves.” Zayne notes as he finishes pushing in your chair and goes to sit across from you. “And a hat. The weather report called for more than four inches of snow tonight.”

“Oh,” You say dreadfully. “I…I just forgot.”

Zayne’s eyes narrow slightly as he slides one of the menus in front of you. “Are you traveling?”

“Huh?” You blurt, looking up from the pastel colors of the menu.

Zayne doesn’t reply and simply nods towards the obnoxiously colored bag at your side.

Crap. You think as a flush blooms across your cheeks. You hadn’t really thought about it, but what could you say? ‘Oh no Zaynie! I’m not traveling! I got kicked out of my apartment after I was pretty much fired from my job! I have enough in my bank account for a hotel, and that's only if I turn a trick on the way there!’

Zayne might have known you longer than anyone else alive at this point, but your pride prevents you from divulging your latest shame. Of everyone you know, Zayne has his shit together the most. How could you expose yourself for not only not having your shit together, but being so far up shit’s creek without a paddle you’re in the snow?

“Oh um,” You stall as you try to think of an excuse, “Yeah. A spontaneous trip, I guess.”

Zayne lifts his menu and begins to browse it, but you’re aware of the frequency with which he glances up at you. Suspicion swirling in his golden-green eyes.

A peppy waitress walks over and Zayne orders two waters and two hot chocolates. A salted caramel for him, and you pick out your choice from the dozen or so options.

The happy, young lady scurries away, and you feel a bitter pang of envy. She probably doesn’t have a care in the world. She probably hasn’t had to mourn anybody– while you’re stuck mourning two families now. Try as you might to fight it, you’re jealous of the peppy waitress and her simple, simple life.

“You’re quieter than usual.” Zayne comments as he relaxes back in his seat. The snow outside has picked up now, casting a white haze over the street. The sidewalk has a good coating of it, and the people who walk by are hunched and hurrying.

Just your luck to be homeless during a blizzard.

“Just a lot on my mind, I guess.” You reply with as much cheer as you can manage. “How’s work? You mentioned an uptick in trauma cases last time I saw you?”

The corners of Zayne’s mouth curl downwards. “From what I can gather, there’s been more random Wanderer attacks. People being ambushed in places usually deemed secure. As a Hunter, you’ve surely noticed the same?”

No, no you hadn’t.

“Right. I-uh– I’ve been doing more deskwork lately.” You say lamely, but suddenly remembering the frequency with which your Hunter’s watch has been going off lately, maybe that was it? You’d thought you were just losing time in between notifications. “There has been more commotion, though.”

The waitress returns with your glasses of water and oversized mugs of hot chocolate; a polite smile and pen at the ready for your food order. Zayne orders a honey glazed salmon dish, while you choose something as filling as you could. Who knew the next time you’d eat out?

Once again, the waitress leaves, and Zayne turns his pressurized attention back to you. It always felt like he was reading you somehow, like a poker player at a high-stakes table. You wonder if he could see your tells. If, somehow, he’d deduced your unfortunate circumstances from innocuous movements of your eyelashes.

His phone on the table buzzes a few times, long drawn out hums of a phone call that made his phone glide to the side. “Forgive me, I need to take this.”

Always the gentleman. He lifts it, and with a sigh he answers.

Zayne didn’t even get a chance to greet the other person before an angry voice was shouting belligerently through the receiver. Zayne pulls the phone away from his ear with a slight grimace.

You can’t tell what the other person is shouting about, only that they’re mad. Ranting pointedly at Zayne with no regard for the safety of his eardrums.

“Calm–” A sigh, “Calm down. I can’t understand anything you’re saying.”

Another tirade of shouting sounds from the other end, muffled and garbled by the small speaker. Zayne flinches again and sighs, “Alright, alright. I’ll take care of it. I understand– Huh? No, I’ll find someone new. – Well, you'll just have to deal with the mess until then.”

A more subdued response came from the phone, quiet enough you only heard the soft mumbles of their voice. Zayne nods along for a moment before mumbling out a gentle goodbye.

“I apologize.” Zayne says as he sits his phone back down. “My…colleagues are difficult at times.”

You chuckle softly, “That didn’t sound like Greyson or anyone else I know at the hospital. Sounded like they were raging. Everything okay?”

Zayne exhales heavily through his nose and rests his hand on the table, tapping his fingers a few times– a habit. You could see a few remnants of pale scars across his thumb and his knuckles, ghosts of run-ins with his unruly Evol.

“He fired another housekeeper.” Zayne grumbles, “That’s six now in two months. I fear we’ll gain a reputation at this rate.”

“You have a housekeeper?” You ask with a slight tilt of your head. You thought perfectly neat and tidy Zayne would have no need for a housekeeper.

“Had a housekeeper.” Zayne amended. The waitress returned and placed your plates in front of you, refilling your waters and skipping away.

“I wouldn't think you would need one. Is your apartment big?” You ask as you nudge at some vegetables on the plate with your fork.

“I moved last year. A house on the outskirts of the city.” Zayne replies, “It’s too big for me to take care of myself, and the others are less than helpful.”

“You have roommates?”

“Three.” Zayne finishes his hot chocolate before turning to his food, “Though, I’m not sure how managing the house fell to me. I think the manager at the agency will throttle me if I try to go back again.”

You pause, “So, you need a housekeeper? Isn’t that expensive?”

Zayne’s expression hardens a bit. You’d never discussed money before, nothing more than debating who would cover a bill at a restaurant.

“We split the expenses.” Zayne offers with a small shrug. “Why? Debating hiring one of your own?”

His joke doesn’t register because your mind is cooking up a half-baked, under seasoned idea. You drop your fork and it clatters onto the table, “Let me do it.”

Zayne blinks, “What?”

Leaning forward in your seat, your heart is pounding in your ears. You feel like you just put every last dime on red twenty-three and the roulette wheel is spinning. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your housekeeper.”

Zayne covers his mouth with the back of his hand in a soft airy laugh, but it quickly fades when he sees your expression. He clears his throat and assesses you with that cool, calculating stare, “Why on earth would you want to do that? What about–”

“Zayne, please.” You interrupt him, and the cold edge to his stare melts. He looks caught off-guard, and why wouldn’t he be? You huff out a mirthless laugh, “Let me do it. I’ll cook and clean and whatever else.”

“Absolutely not.” He rejects quickly, “That feels wrong. You’re my friend and that’s–”

“I need the money.” You admit with a stone in your gut.

Zayne freezes, and you can see the wheels in his genius mind turning. He glances over to your suitcase, and you know you’re found out. “What’s happened?”

“I just need enough to get a cheap room.” You say instead of answering his question. “We can make a contract, and I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“What happened?” The tone in his voice is sharp and strikes you directly in the chest.

You stare down at your untouched food and blink away the stinging in your eyes, “They put me on leave. The landlord kicked me out. I…I’m not traveling.”

The words leave you like vomit, stinging your tongue with the wretched taste of them.

“You can just stay with me.” Zayne’s voice cuts through the growing haze in your mind. The cold fog that you’ve been living in for months, brushed away at the warmth in his voice.

“No, I can’t do that.” You insist with a shake of your head. “I won’t take advantage of you. If I’m not working elsewhere, then I’ll earn my keep.”

“That’s really not nec–”

“Yes, it is.” You interrupt him again, voice trembling, and you realize how tightly you're gripping onto the tablecloth underneath the table because your fingers begin to ache.

You can tell Zayne wants to push it. To others it might look like he’s just irritated, but you can see the uncertainty there. You’d known him long enough to know when he was silently debating something in his mind. You sit frozen, food growing cold, and wait for his answer. Teetering on a knife’s edge.

When he sighs and shakes his head, you realize you’ve won and some fraying knot in your gut unravels. You smile and try not to look too overjoyed, but the realization you won’t have to sleep on a park bench has just made your week.

“Eat your food.” He says firmly as he lifts his utensils, “I’ll take you to the house afterward.”

You smile and dig in, food tasting better than it has in months.

Your bike is currently in a parking garage at the mall near your old apartment, and so you climb into Zayne’s black sedan while he– after pulling it from your hands– puts your suitcase in the trunk.

Rubbing your hands together to fend off the leeching cold, you silently thank the gods for sending Zayne to you.

His car is nice, with leather seats and a fancy entertainment system, but not flashy. Trimmed with deep colored wood and elegant silver. There’s nothing sentimental in the car– no kitchy trinket hanging from the mirror, or cute steering wheel cover. If you didn’t know any better, you might think it was a rental.

As Zayne begins to drive in silence, you realize he’s not the type to leave traces behind. His office has a picture of his parents, and a few mementos from patients, but nothing to really mark it as his. His car is bare of him, and you wonder if his house is the same.

In your rush to vacate your apartment, you had been sure to keep some sentimental things. Pictures and plushies from your life that now feels a million miles away. Just as much space was dedicated to the keepsakes as it was clothes and necessities.

“For the record,” Zayne says finally as he turns onto a highway. “I am not a fan of this. Your stubbornness is really unnecessary, and I’d much prefer it if you just stayed as a guest.”

You bite at your lower lip, hating putting him in this uncomfortable position. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stand the idea of taking advantage of your hospitality like that. I have no idea how long this will last. Please, let me do this.”

Silence answers but then, a soft laugh, “Never thought I’d hear someone begging to clean my house.”

You look over at him with your mouth ajar and find that subtle gaiety dancing in his eyes. He could be downright playful when he wanted to be, but it was rare. It had taken you years to understand his dry humor, and to understand the difference between a jab and a jape.

“We should set some expectations, I suppose.” Zayne says before you can retort. “The house is rather large, and has multiple rooms. The main priority is the common spaces: the living room, kitchen, dining, room, etcetera.”

“I can handle that.” You say with a determined grin.

“There’s also a gym. A studio. And a garage.” Zayne mentions, glancing at you to gauge your reaction, but you don’t back down. “The bedrooms are for the occupants to clean. They can handle their own laundry, for the most part.”

For lack of anything else, you stare at Zayne’s hands, watching as they flex against the smooth leather of the steering wheel. His scarred knuckles shift as he turns. You feel like you know him so well, able to read him and understand him, but you had no idea he’d moved and no clue how a man like Zayne ended up living with three roommates. It made you wonder how much you really know about him.

“Got it.” You affirm with a nod.

“Can I at least convince you to take a week before working?” He tries again.

The bustle of the city transitions to wide spread out buildings, but not a residential neighborhood like you expected. It feels like a commercial district with rows of tall, wide rectangular buildings and neatly trimmed ornamental gardens.

“I’ll take a day to settle in.” You offer, and Zayne just sighs.

Zayne pulls up to a building that most certainly does not look like a house. It's a plain rectangular thing covered in windows on the second and third floors, but the bottom being plain concrete. He turns through an automatic gate and then down a ramp into a garage below.

The bright white of the snowy upper world gives way to the shadowy cavern, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. It’s almost like a parking garage with a series of spots filled with other cars and two bikes.

You keep your questions to yourself, though they buzz at the tip of your tongue as Zayne shifts the car into park and exits. You take a deep breath and unbuckle your seatbelt, and by the time you turn to exit, Zayne is opening your door.

You flush at the chivalrous treatment and take the hand he offers. Your hand is only mildly warmer than his– cool fingers holding your palm with a loose, chaste grip.

The air in the garage is cold, but not nearly as frigid as the outside. You fluster for words for a moment while Zayne goes to the trunk and retrieves your suitcase, sliding it out of your range when you try to take it from him.

The smirk on his face is equally flustering as it is frustrating. He leads you over to the far wall, and you realize there’s an elevator.

You can’t help the impressed whistle as he presses the call button, “An elevator? Wowee, this is some place you’ve got here.”

Zayne chuckles as the elevator door opens and he motions for you to enter first. He follows you and presses the star button for the main floor, “It’s more lavish than what I would have picked, but the others have their tastes.”

“You haven’t told me about your roommates yet.” You mention as the elevator ascends, a touch of nerves sparking in you at the realization that you'll be staying with more people than just Zayne.

“They’ll likely keep to themselves.” Zayne assures. Another ding and the doors part, this time Zayne steps out first and holds a hand over the doors as you exit.

The elevator opens up into a tall foyer. Shiny wooden floors with a long carpet down the middle. The walls are decorated with art you’d think should be in a museum, and a heavy chandelier hangs over your heads.

Zayne’s hand ghosts across your lower back and pulls your attention away from admiring the decor, “This way.”

Nearly boneless, you follow him. Turning around a corner and into a wide, open concept living space. A cozy area with three couches surrounding a large, square coffee table is the centerpiece of the room. A modern fireplace on one side, and TV above it. The windows completely line the opposite wall, with a picturesque view of a garden and the city beyond being pelted with bouts of snow.

The kitchen is to the left, separated from the living room by a long bar with square barstools lining it. A hanging light fixture illuminates the area, swirling organic metal holding several pendant lights.

It’s massive. It’s lavish. It’s going to be hell to keep clean. This seems like too much house for even four people. Who lives like this?

More paintings fill spaces on the walls, plenty of greenery decorating the corners and surfaces, giving the space a more warm and cozy feel. You’re certain this place would feel clinical without it.

“This is the main area,” Zayne explains, “The main kitchen is there, but there’s a smaller one upstairs.”

Two kitchens? Your mind squawks, but you keep your lips sealed. Nodding with a tight smile when Zayne looks your way.

“There are two bedrooms on this floor. Two on the next floor. And one below us.” Zayne continues as he turns towards the hall to the right. “The spare bedroom is upstairs. Follow me.”

Zayne picks up your suitcase and leads you up a staircase and down another hall. He opens a door and lets you inside, setting your luggage on the settee at the end of the bed.

For guest bedrooms, this one is very cozy. Instead of sharp lines and modern finishes, it’s more plush. Wooden furniture and warm colored walls. The bedding is a soft cream and there's pastel blue, pink and purple pillows at the head. One of the walls is almost all windows again, but when you step close the cold barely leaks through.

Zayne walks to the other wall and opens a door, “Here’s the closet.” then over to the last wall, “And here’s the ensuite bathroom.”

Your heart suddenly swells, feeling overwhelmed. “This is…thank you, Zayne.”

A small smile appears on his face and he approaches you– you think he might touch you. A gentle touch to your hair or even a hug. You feel yourself brace for it, not moving physically but opening up like a flower to his potential affection.

He doesn’t touch you, but he does offer you one of those dazzling small but breathtaking grins that he does. The sweetness of his smile reaching the precious gems in his eyes, sparkling with something so genuine it makes your heart hurt.

“I have to return to the hospital.” Zanyne says, and your heart sinks. “Feel free to explore the place. I’ll send a message to the others about the circumstances.”

“I’ll probably hide in here til you get back,” You admit with a laugh.

“Do you need anything while I’m out?” He asks, “Were you able to get everything from your apartment?”

“I think so.” You take in a deep breath and let the relief settle in, “Thank you again Zayne. We can discuss the specifics when you get home.”

His eyelashes flutter a bit as he reacts imperceptibly to your words, but his smile returns and he nods, “I’ll see you then.”

Next->

(Proofread Edits: 4/25/2025)

266 notes · View notes

munv · 3 months ago

Text

HIP HOP!

twisted wonderland writing event!!

Last year I started an event for this and it didnt go smoothly due to some errors with my account and inbox. So this year, with my consistent posting streak, ive decided to bring it back for those who really wanted it!

Requests will start to be written on the 10th! And the event ends on the 21st! Please make sure to put it your req within that timestamp! message me if you desire to be on the taglist!

LATELY at night NRC students have been seeing little bunnies around the campus, some have reported stolen personal Items as well!

Crowley has taken it upon himself to assign you to investigate the matter with your trusty partner grim, now as detectives it's truly a surprise as to what you find out!

Your friends have become little bunnies! How will you take care of the matter??

HEARTSLAYBYUL

001 . RIDDLE

002 . TREY

003 . CATER

004 . ACE

005 . DEUCE

OCTAVINELLE

006 . AZUL

007 . FLOYD

008 . JADE

SAVANACLAW

009 . LEONA

010 . RUGGIE

011 . JACK

POMEFIORE

012 . VIL

013 . ROOK

014 . EPEL

IGNIHYDE

015 . IDIA

016 . ORTHO

DIASOMNIA

017 . MALLEUS

018 . LILIA

019 . SEBEK

020 . SILVER

SCARABIA

021 . KALIM

022 . JAMIL

SPECIAL MENTIONS!

023 . GRIM

024 . CHENYA

025 . NEIGE

026 . ROLLO

HOW THE EVENT WILL GO!

In order to send in a request, send in the dorm, and then the character’s designated number.

for example, if you want to do riddle, send in: “Heartslabyul 001” and then please be specific with the scenario and request you have in mind afterwards!

Reblogs appreciated!!

156 notes · View notes

saywhat-politics · 4 months ago

Text

The Department of Government Efficiency has removed its so-called "wall of receipts" detailing its cuts to the federal budget after its purported savings were found to be riddled with errors.

Elon Musk's budget-cutting initiative has deleted all of the five biggest “savings” that had been posted on its website. It followed fact checks from media outlets, although the group still claims it has saved the government $65 billion. The website provided no explanation for the removals or its methodology for determining how much had been slashed from the budget, reported the New York Times.

"The 'wall of receipts' is the only public ledger the organization has produced to document its work," the newspaper reported. "The scale of that ledger’s errors — and the misunderstandings and poor quality control that seemed to underlie them — has raised questions about the effort’s broader work, which has led to mass firings and cutbacks across the federal government."

#donald trump #second term #elon musk #doge #wall of receipts

204 notes · View notes

mysumeow · 10 months ago

Text

──YANDERE ACE DRABBLE

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Reader is referred to with gendered terms like girl. Yandere Ace. ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: Headmage Crowley assures reader he found a way back home. Ace attempts to impede it. ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 984 ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: Ace as a yandere is a thought that greatly amuses me. He's a silly mix between a tsun and a yandere which is kinda ironic within inself but I find the idea fun. I had this halfway written and today i decided to revisit it to finish it haha. I'm trying to finish the many drabbles I've abandoned D:

⸝⸝⸝

Ace holds on to his claim of him liking you only as a friend (... sort of) as if his life depended on it. Even if he sabotages any means of your escape from Twisted Wonderland.

First, he tries to make you doubt Crowley’s veracity.

“The headmage told you that? The headmage?” He repeated it slowly. “You’re trusting that guy after everything he has put you through?”

Headmage Crowley was, with little room for argument, not the most trustworthy person on this land. Yes, he has his instances of being helpful, but you can count the number of said instances on your fingers.

That’s why Ace’s concern didn’t seem too far-fetched to you.

“I could at least try it.” However, you were dreaming of returning home from the first time you sat foot in this place. You couldn’t just give up like that.

“What if it fails and it kills you?”

The weight with which he blurted those words took you off guard—he’d said them with absolute conviction.

“Are you... perhaps worried about me?”

“You’re a naïve, magicless girl who knows nothing of this world. I’m simply looking out for you,” he was quick to retort, as if offended by your conclusion. “Don’t read too much into it.”

“Aw, you’re worried about me,” you teased him. “You’re such a good friend, Ace.” you reached out to pinch his cheek.

“I’m not,” he swatted your hand away, both tips of his ears and cheeks growing red. “Geez, you can be annoying sometimes.”

Used to his attitude, you just chuckled at his response. You couldn’t help but wonder why everyone in this stupid college was at this level of emotional constipation. And if not everyone, a good portion of the student body wasn’t an exception.

Ace racked his brain trying to convince you to stay. He couldn’t waltz into the Magic Mirror’s chambers like he owned the place and destroy it, nor could he threaten the headmage. All he had left was to convince you not to go back to your world. Or implant fear into the fatal what-ifs of the mirror malfunctioning. Deceive you.

His words were half truths. Yes, there were a couple of cases of the mirror sending living beings into another dimension, but they were presumably dead since the subjects never reported back, nor did they send any signal of making it out alive.

But it was a long, long time ago. Maybe millennia. Since then, the arts of magic have strengthened and perfected, minimizing the margin of error. It was plausible for the headmage to have found an irrefutable way back to your universe.

A fact Ace didn’t like one bit. To the point he sneaked into Professor Trein’s office and seized one of those old dust-covered books that archived many accidents that happened because of the mirror.

Sleepovers at Ramshackle happen often enough for Riddle to not even bat an eye when Ace must report to him that he’s going to spend the night over there.

“Oh, do come back with this homework done, Trappola,” Riddle dropped the pile of textbooks on Ace’s awaiting palms. Of course, much to Ace’s dismay. “I’ll personally revise it and do corrections if needed. Am I not such a great housewarden?”

Ace had a couple of thoughts that would differ from that claim, but he nodded along, not fond of the idea of getting collared.

The next step of his plan consisted of roping Deuce into lying to you as well. It wouldn’t be easy, given that he tended to be more sincere (in comparison to himself)... However, no matter how much Deuce attempted to be a goody two shoes, the fact that the news of you going back home would devastate him increased the chances of it being easier to convince him.

Ace surmised such, at least.

“Leaving? The headmage actually found a way to…?” Deuce trailed off, an evident ache within his chest. After some contemplation, Deuce accepted the inevitable. Deep down, he knew the day would arrive. Eventually. Although he’d hoped for it to be later. “I-I’m glad about it! I really am. You know how important of a deal that is.” To go back to where you belong and see your loved ones…

“That’s not the point, Deuce.”

“Then which is it?”

“The problem is that you both are blindly trusting that headmage’s word. Everybody knows how unreliable he can be. Don’t you think so?”

Deuce opened his mouth to refute; yet the longer he thought about it, he couldn’t come up with any good argument.

“Well, Crowley can be reliable. Sometimes.”

Ace’s lack of conviction was evident in his deadpan expression.

“Are we talking about the same guy? The one who abandons us to our own devices during hardships? The one who made the prefect deal with these past overblots? A magicless student, at that.”

“Okay, fine. I get it. You’ve got a good point there. What should we do, then?”

“We’ve got to convince the prefect to not head into the mirror. I borrowed a book. It contains logs of past attempts to send people back through it. None of them successful.”

Deuce eyed the book. “Those happened a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but the prefect doesn’t need to know that detail, duh!” Ace rolled his eyes.

“Ace—” Deuce caught the meaning behind Ace’s words, and, as much as he wished for your friendship to not come to an end, there was a voice nagging him at the back of his mind. “We can’t do that.”

“Don’t be a wimp about it.”

Deuce clenched his fist. “Hey!”

“And we’re not doing this for ourselves—we’re doing this for the safety of our prefect.”

Despite a certain sense of doubt pestering him, that was enough convincing for Deuce. This wasn’t for himself or for Ace. It was for you.

Yes, that’s the sole reason. He assured himself.

#twst x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland

229 notes · View notes

devdozes · 3 months ago

Text

Why does the weather keep changing?!

Weather scientist reader x Scientist phainon whos artificially changing the weather :0 what could possibly go wrong PHAINON FANART AT THE END OF THE POST!!

The moment you saw the weather reports go haywire, you knew something was wrong.

For years, you had dedicated your life to understanding the unpredictable nature of the skies—studying storm patterns, atmospheric shifts, and climate changes. Weather was a delicate balance of science and nature, governed by centuries-old principles that even the most advanced meteorologists struggled to predict with absolute certainty. And yet, something—someone—was tipping the scales.

It started subtly. A mild anomaly here, an unexpected shift there. A sudden drop in pressure that meteorological models hadn't accounted for. At first, you chalked it up to a rare, yet natural deviation. Uncommon, but not impossible. But as days passed, the anomalies became more frequent. More erratic. More impossible.

One evening, you sat in your lab, staring at satellite images that simply did not make sense.

According to every forecast model, the eastern seaboard was supposed to experience heavy rainfall over the next 48 hours. But outside your window? Nothing. Clear skies. No clouds forming where they should have been. Not even a hint of humidity in the air. It was as if the storm had just... vanished.

You double-checked the data. Triple-checked. Ran simulations, compared historical trends, even consulted with your colleagues in other departments. Nothing added up. The storm should have happened.

The next day, the opposite occurred. A severe thunderstorm erupted out of nowhere, completely unpredicted by any meteorological model. Lightning struck in regions that had no atmospheric conditions to support it. You stared at your screen, watching real-time data pour in, and felt your stomach sink.

“This isn’t natural,” you muttered, fingers tightening around your stylus as you scrolled through satellite readings. “This isn’t possible.”

You reached out to national weather agencies, but they were just as baffled as you were. Some blamed equipment malfunctions. Others suggested it was a rare atmospheric anomaly. But you knew better. This wasn’t an error.

Someone was artificially changing the weather.

And you were going to find out who.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Your investigation led you to an independent research facility under the name "Elysiae Dynamics." A company that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, its research papers riddled with vague references to “atmospheric influence” and “climate engineering.” No one in the meteorological community had ever heard of them until recently, and yet, they had just filed a patent for atmospheric manipulation technology.

That’s when you met him.

A tall, cheery young man, 6’2 with messy white hair and cerulean blue eyes, wearing a lab coat over a wrinkled button-up shirt and sneakers that looked far too casual for someone playing god with the atmosphere.

“Ah! You must be the weather scientist!” His voice was bright, chipper, like he wasn’t single-handedly disrupting global climate stability. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And you are?”

“Phainon! Head of experimental meteorological engineering here at Elysiae Dynamics.” He beamed, extending a hand. “I’m the guy who made it rain during your picnic last weekend. Sorry about that! Just had to test a hypothesis.”

You didn’t shake his hand. “You—you what?”

“Oh, don’t look so mad! You should be impressed! I successfully altered the weather without any negative ecological consequences!” Phainon leaned against his desk, arms crossed, still grinning like a fool. “Come on, you of all people should appreciate this. Isn't controlling the weather the dream of every meteorologist?”

“It’s not a dream, it’s an ethical nightmare!” You snapped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? The slightest miscalculation could throw entire ecosystems off balance! Not to mention the political implications—”

Phainon tilted his head. “But I didn’t miscalculate.”

His confidence was infuriating. His logic, irritatingly sound. And worst of all? You couldn’t deny that what he had accomplished was groundbreaking.

“…This is reckless,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “And insanely impressive. But mostly reckless.”

Phainon’s grin widened. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You groaned. “I need access to your research.”

“Oh-ho, so now you’re interested?”

“I was always interested. But now I need to make sure you’re not about to cause the next ice age.”

Phainon chuckled, stepping closer—too close. His presence was overwhelming in the way only someone deeply, unapologetically passionate about their work could be. “Tell you what, partner,” he said, voice teasing, “help me refine it, make it safer. You’re the expert on natural weather—I’m just the guy making it unnatural. Work with me, and we can create something truly extraordinary.”

You wanted to refuse. You really, really did.

But damn it, he had a point.

“…Fine.”

His eyes lit up, like a storm forming in the depths of a clear sky. “Excellent! Now, let’s get to work—I was thinking about making it snow in July next. Just for fun!”

You groaned. This was going to be a long partnership. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ And long it was. Over the next few weeks, you found yourself sucked into the chaotic whirlwind that was Phainon’s scientific madness. He worked at an impossible pace, throwing around ideas that shouldn’t have been possible but somehow were. One minute, he’d be theorizing about localized heatwaves, and the next, he’d be actively making them happen.

“You can’t just create a thunderstorm over the city because you think it would look cool,” you hissed one afternoon, watching in horror as Phainon gleefully adjusted dials on his control panel.

“Oh, but I can,” he countered, eyes gleaming. “It’s all about the precision. Watch—three, two, one…”

A bolt of lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the city below.

“…Boom.”

You stared at him. “You are so going to get arrested.”

“Nah, only if they catch me.”

You groaned, shoving your hands into your lab coat pockets. “Unbelievable. You’re like a child with a god complex.”

Phainon grinned. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Damn it. He had a point. Again.

The worst part? You were starting to enjoy it.

Lately, though, you had been feeling exhausted.

The late nights, the stress, the mental load of balancing scientific integrity with Phainon’s chaos—it was all catching up to you. Your movements were slower, your focus slipping. Even Phainon, for all his oblivious enthusiasm, noticed.

That afternoon, when the sun was unbearably hot and the air in the lab felt thick and suffocating, you slumped over your desk, barely listening as Phainon rambled about his next experiment.

And then, suddenly—

A breeze.

Cool, crisp, and carrying the scent of oncoming rain. You blinked in confusion, looking up just in time to see Phainon, standing by the open window, a knowing smile on his face.

“You looked like you needed a break,” he said simply, leaning against the sill. “So I changed the weather. Just a little.”

Your eyes widened. The screens behind you, once displaying the sweltering forecast, now showed cloud cover rolling in. The suffocating heat? Gone.

“…You did this?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Phainon grinned. “Of course. Can’t have my partner melting away on me, can I?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Damn him.

“C’mon,” he suddenly said, pushing off the window ledge. “Let’s go outside for a bit. We’ve been in this lab for too long, and I changed the weather for you. C’mon.”

Before you could protest, Phainon grabbed your hand and dragged you toward the exit, leaving behind a room full of stunned scientists, their jaws practically on the floor as they watched him whisk you away like a force of nature itself. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The moment you stepped outside, a crisp breeze greeted you, carrying the scent of damp earth and something electrifying—the prelude to a storm. You glanced up at the sky, expecting the soft cloud cover Phainon had crafted just for you, but instead—

A downpour.

Cold, heavy raindrops pelted down from the heavens, drenching the both of you in an instant. It wasn’t just a light drizzle or a gentle summer rain—it was an absolute deluge.

You gasped, half in shock, half in disbelief.

Phainon, still holding your hand, blinked up at the sky in stunned silence.

Then you burst out laughing. Loud, uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh my god—did you leave the machine on auto mode?!” you choked out between fits of laughter. “Phainon, the weather just changed again! WHAT DID YOU DO?”

He stared at you for a second, then back at the rain, and then at you again.

“…I might have forgotten to turn off the randomization function,” he admitted sheepishly.

Your laughter only grew. “Are you kidding me?! We barely made it outside, and now we’re stuck in an artificial monsoon!”

Phainon, despite his momentary fluster, grinned widely. “Well, on the bright side—at least it’s refreshing!” And with that, he spread his arms out dramatically, embracing the torrential downpour like some mad scientist turned weather god.

You shook your head, still breathless with laughter. Your clothes were already soaked through, hair sticking to your forehead, rain streaming down your face—but in that moment, you didn’t care.

Phainon turned to you, eyes gleaming mischievously through the rain. “So, do you wanna run back inside? Or…” He took a step back, still holding onto your wrist, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Oh, you knew that look.

He was about to do something reckless.

“…Phainon,” you warned.

“Catch me if you can!”

And just like that, he took off—sprinting through the rain like a madman.

You groaned. Of course.

But your feet moved before you could even think about it, chasing after him through the drenched pavement, laughter bubbling in your chest. The other scientists, who had peeked outside to witness this chaos, simply stood there, utterly baffled as their two most brilliant colleagues—one being the cause of this entire mess—bolted through the facility grounds, completely soaked.

“Phainon, get back here!” you yelled, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” he called back, voice bright, wild, and full of life. "YOU STUPID LITTLE-"

THE SILLIES ARE BACK AAGIN I LVOE THEM SO MUCHCH AUGH

85 notes · View notes

nitewrighter · 12 days ago

Note

I read that post on luthor refusing the riddler legion membership because his riddling clues always get solved by batman, who lex is 90% sure solves crimes as a hobby (technically lex is right, bruce is very dedicated to his hobby, and very good at it, but it is technically a hobby), while the justice league has a dozen geniuses on its roster.

And that got me thinking, what if nygma left Gotham for a time, stating he’s “taking a break from the bat”, and using the other so called “league geniuses” as mental exercise?

Could the question indeed solve his riddles in his sleep?

Which heroes would solve their challenges easily? (Mr terrific does crossword puzzles in pen remember)

Which ones would be like- i’m good with tech/chemistry/quantum physics, I don’t know anything about 18th century french literature?

And what if the “comic relief” heroes (plastic man, beast boy, booster gold et al) got involved?

If they did solve a riddle/puzzle/game/challenge, would it be due to dumb luck? That they’re smarter than people give them credit for? Or because they make jokes do often, they’re familiar with puns and word play?

In beast boy’s case, is it because he’s an avid gamer, and one of his old favorites is riddle of the minotaur?

I mean I hate defaulting to my faves for these questions, but Mister Miracle getting through one of the Riddler's wacky Riddle-Death-Traps/Mazes because he is literally The Greatest Superhero Escape Artist is thoroughly hilarious to me.

Barda: *watching Scott self-narrate and trial-and-error his way through some Riddler bullshit*

Spoiler: ...I don't get it. You can smash right through this entire setup. Why don't you do that?

Barda: Arguably, Scott could probably Motherbox his way out of it as well, but this is enrichment for him. Also his thinky-face is cute.

Mister Miracle, offscreen: Barda! Barda, he's got a Stab-o-tron! Barda, are you seeing this!?

Barda: Yes, Scott, it's a very nice death trap.

My other option for facing off with the Riddler is of course Jimmy Olsen. Jimmy's a problem solver, but he's also got so many heavy hitters either ready to fight for him at the drop of a hat, or completely sick of his ass because he is Superman's Pal. I also love Plot Armor Jimmy flummoxing villains through sheer idiot luck.

Jimmy: Batman! Boy, am I glad to see you! You're not going to believe it! I was--

Batman: *pinching the bridge of his nose* You were tracking down the source of a mysterious augmented reality game that was using deepfake footage of pop stars and prompting teenagers across the nation to commit mischief and sow chaos at strategic locations, allowing for several high-stakes, high-black-market-value robberies to occur. And now you're in a pop music-themed death trap.

Jimmy: Wow! Yeah! But don't worry, Scoops has been recording every--

Batman: For the record, you only ended up further along in this mystery than me because I can't immediately recognize pop music references.

Jimmy: I-- I don't really see what that has to do with anything but--

Riddler, from some overhead speakers: Is that... jealousy I hear, Batman?

Batman: It's not jealousy, I just wouldn't expect you to hide yourself with inanity.

Riddler: Maybe you should listen to more pop music! It might help you articulate all those dark sludgy feelings gunking up what should be a genius intellect! Or has the great Batman lost all touch with the masses?!

Batman: Nygma, leave the reporter out of this. We both know your fight is with me.

Riddler: mmm... I don't know. He did get further along than you...I mean, not everything has to be about you, Batman--

Batman: NYGMA--!

Jimmy: Should I--d-do you guys want me to turn off Scoops so you can talk about this, or--?

#dc #mister miracle #big barda #jimmy olsen

30 notes · View notes

songsofadelaide · 1 year ago

Text

All of your colleagues in the office knew of Satoru's long-standing crush on you. Who would have known that behind his sharp wit and debonair aura, he was actually an absolute sap of a man?

They didn't know he looked up to you so much because you bailed him out of an error-riddled document he made when he was just starting the job. It was only normal for you to do so since he was your junior, and you didn't want to get chewed out by your Department Chief.

But after that night of overtime, you were his saviour, and the last thing he wanted to do was saddle you with any more grunt work, so he worked doubly hard to submit perfect reports to you.

Even you had to admit that Satoru was a good-looking kid. He was always dressed impeccably well and smelled amazing, too. He's two years your junior but an incredibly quick learner— so much so that the Department Chief started taking notice of him, too. You wouldn't be surprised if he got promoted to team leader soon.

And though you've seen how dependable he is when it comes to work, he still can't help but act a little spoiled and babyish around you. He'd ask you to fix his tie for him, or maybe straighten out his collar. It's always your opinion he seeks out first whenever there are team discussions, as though he was showing off and asking you to back up his ideas. He had a good head on his shoulders, but he tends to forget whenever you're around.

Satoru's crush on you has been a long-time open secret at the office. You've been asked how you felt about the whole thing and you didn't really have much of a thought about it. Though it made you wonder... If he liked you that much, why hasn't he ever made a move on you for real? Then again, how would you react if that were to happen?

And that made you think. A lot.

And drink.

A lot.

After closing yet another deal at work, your Department Chief called for a night of celebration— their treat, too, and somehow your glass of beer became a bottomless well that was only pulled away from you by none other than Satoru, who saw you had way too much to drink that night because—

You didn't want to think.

But, oh, how could you not? Your adorable junior held you to his chest as he gently wrestled the half-empty beer glass out of your hands— wait, adorable? Satoru was six feet of coolness, for the lack of a better word. Surely you aren't talking about that Satoru—

"Senpai, you're drunk."

His voice echoed in your ear, but you couldn't hear anything from the sound of his heartbeat against your cheek. He sounded far too calm for someone whose heart was in hysterics. The sound soothed you so much that you were already half-asleep in his arms while the rest of your team noisily and happily drank their fill in the brightly lit izakaya.

You were awoken by the sound of your Department Chief's farewell spiel for the week. It was a Friday night and tomorrow was a day-off so everyone had the luxury of nursing their hangovers for as long as they could the morning after. You could only faintly hear their words of thanks, followed by "it's about time we wrapped up" and "we'll leave the team leader to you, Gojo-kun".

"Mmnngh..."

You felt Satoru's chest tremble, closely followed by a soft chuckle. "Senpai, stop grumbling. Bucho-san said thanks for your efforts. We're going home now."

How you got home was a mystery, because you remember walking half-asleep in your junior's arms and falling into an even deeper sleep on the cab ride home. He nearly carried you to your bed, but not without laying you down with the gentleness of a mother setting her child to sleep. Somehow your bed smelled just like him...

He was about to turn away from you when you pulled him by his necktie. Surely you can reward him a bit... "Gojo-kun, you like me, don't you?"

Oh, who am I kidding? At this point, you already overthought and confirmed that you liked him back. "I like you, too, so..."

"...Senpai? You're drunk, s-so don't—" He was back to his babyish way again, but he was obviously just taken aback by your sudden boldness. You pulled him down until you were caged in his arms, his rigid torso looming over you, his kind yet confused blue eyes drinking in your features like he hadn't had enough earlier that night.

"I'll sleep with you, but only if you consider this a dream."

"You mean to say...?"

Satoru sounded like he was considering things.

"Forget about everything when you wake up."

Imagine your embarrassment the following morning when you discovered you weren't at your place but at Satoru's apartment instead. You were confident he'd leave quietly after last night but that wasn't the case since it was you who stayed over. Forget about everything when you wake up. Tough luck. And stupid of me to even—

You were still fully clothed. And Satoru was nowhere to be found on his bed.

"Are you awake, senpai? I laid out a change of clothes for you and made breakfast for us, so come out when you're ready!"

For all your big talk last night, you were incredibly ashamed by the whole ordeal. It was embarrassing enough that he had to witness such an uncool side of you, but even more so now that you were imposing on the young man's kindness. Still, you decided to change into a fresh shirt that smelled just like him and face the music.

There he was, setting his dinner table with an elated smile that grew even wider when he saw you in his shirt. "Good morning, senpai! I hope you don't mind sandwiches for breakfast. I don't usually eat rice in the morning..."

He sat you down across from him and laid a plate of what looked like a club sandwich, the bread lightly toasted and the greens still moist from washing.

"Gojo-kun—"

"Before anything else, there's something I have to tell you... About last night, senpai... You said you liked me too. And all night I felt terrible because I never even got around to confessing to you and you beat me to it," Satoru stated, but not before concluding with a small sigh of defeat. "Then again, you were drunk last night, so I wouldn't be surprised if it was just your alcohol-fueled—"

"Don't say that, Gojo-kun! I-I meant what I said, s-so please don't just dismiss them as drunk ramblings," you said in surprise, raising your hands in defence as you reasoned with him. He reached out for your hands from across the table, and you could have sworn you felt him slightly trembling. In... In nervousness? If that were the case, he really does a good job of not showing it at all.

"I like you, senpai," he said with his normal, straightforward coolness that seemed to have everyone at work hooked onto him. Though his gaze seemed to soften as he looked away from you sheepishly, his babyish side rearing its head this time. "And if... if that offer of yours from last night still stands... At least don't tell me to forget about it."

I suppose I like both of them. Both his cool and his cute side, you thought to yourself. You won't be forgetting that Saturday morning anytime soon. And neither would he.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's prompts 🎠#jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #things i can't stop thinking abt lol #this is mari's gojo satoru shoujo leading man agenda #starry divider by @/cafekitsune

180 notes · View notes

contemplatingoutlander · 3 months ago

Text

How Trump is reshaping reality by hiding data

Curating reality is an old political game, but Trump’s sweeping statistical purges are part of a broader attempt to reinvent “truth.”

Trump appears to be turning the federal government into its own 1984-style Ministry of Truth.

This is a gift 🎁 link so there is no paywall to read it. Below are some excerpts/highlights.

By Amanda Shendruk and Catherine Rampell | March 11, 2025 The Trump administration is deleting taxpayer-funded data — information that Americans use to make sense of the world. In its absence, the president can paint the world as he pleases. We don’t know the full universe of statistics that has gone missing, but the U.S. DOGE Service’s wrecking ball has already left behind a wasteland of 404 pages. All sorts of useful information has disappeared, including data on:

[...]

[See more under the cut.]

Three cases of legerdemath and other tricks up Trump’s sleeve

Deleting data isn’t the only way to manipulate official statistics. Trump and his allies have also misrepresented or altered data. Here are a few examples: 1. Incorrect data

Witness DOGE’s bogus statistics on its supposed government savings. The administration counts as “savings” some canceled contracts that had already been paid in full. Some canceled expenses were created out of whole cloth, such as $50 million supposedly spent on sending condoms to Gaza. 2. Misrepresented data

One of Trump’s favorite charts on immigration is riddled with errors. For one, it does not show the number of immigrants entering the United States illegally, as he claims, but the number of people stopped at the U.S. border. Similarly, when Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick was recently asked how much DOGE funding cuts might reduce economic growth, he suggested that the agency might decide to change how economic growth is calculated so that the usual GDP report strips out government spending altogether. This would be an abrupt change to the standard GDP methodology that has been used around the world for nearly a century, but it would certainly make the DOGE cuts look less painful. 3. Altered data

When data doesn’t tell the story Trump wants, he fabricates it. In what became known as “Sharpiegate,” Trump notoriously altered a map of Hurricane Dorian’s path in 2019.

Likewise, before Jan. 30, a National Institutes of Health website documenting years of spending data included a category called “Workforce Diversity and Outreach.” That line item is now gone — even though the money was, indeed, spent.

Taking cues from authoritarian illusionists

Such actions are straight out of authoritarian leaders’ playbooks. Research suggests that less democratic countries have been more likely to inflate their GDP growth rates and manipulate their covid-19 numbers. Statistical manipulation is also more common in countries that shun economic openness and democracy. [...] To be clear, efforts to rewrite reality via statistical manipulation often don’t work. If anything, China’s data deletions reduced public confidence in the country’s economic stability. (No one hides good news, after all.) The Trump team’s efforts to suppress nettlesome numbers have similarly eroded trust in U.S. data. Only about one-third of Americans trust that most or all of the statistics Trump cites are “reliable and accurate.”

Meanwhile, missing or untrustworthy data lead to worse decisions: Auto companies, for example, draw on dozens of federally administered datasets when devising new car models, how to price them, where to stock and market them and other key choices. Retailers need detailed information about local demographics, weather and modes of transit when deciding where to locate stores. Doctors require up-to-date statistics about disease spread when diagnosing or treating patients. Families look at school test scores and local crime rates when deciding where to move. Politicians use census data when determining funding levels for important government programs.

And of course, voters need good data of all kinds when weighing whether to throw the bums out. Many of us take the existence of economic or public health stats for granted, without even thinking about who maintains them or what happens if they go away. Fortunately, some outside institutions have been saving and archiving endangered federal data. The Internet Archives’ Wayback Machine, for instance, crawls sites around the internet and has become an invaluable resource for seeing what federal websites used to contain. Other organizations are archiving topic-specific data and research, such as on the environment or reproductive health. These are critical but ultimately insufficient efforts. At best, they can preserve data already published. But they cannot update series already halted or purged.... Some private companies may step in to offer their own substitutes (on prices, for example), but private companies still rely on government statistics to calibrate their own numbers. Much of the most critical information about the state of our union can be collected only by the state itself. Americans might be stuck with whatever Trump chooses to share with us, or not.

#government data #donald trump #hiding government data #manipulating government data #manipulating the truth #autocracy #1984 #ministry of truth #amanda shendruk #catherine rampell #michelle kondrich #sethinsua #the washington post #my edits

196 notes · View notes

political-us · 3 months ago

Text

Fact-checking DOGE’s details, however, revealed that the organization has confused billions with millions, tripled the savings from nixing one contract, claimed credit for canceling programs that ended under the Bush administration, and said it spared $1.9 billion for ending an IRS contract that was actually axed under President Joe Biden. The group later deleted these details from its “savings” page.

But rather than push to improve accuracy in its reporting, DOGE decided to go the opposite route and make its new claims even harder to check.

On March 2, Musk’s group posted a note that it had saved taxpayers another $10 billion by terminating thousands of federal grants. But instead of pointing to specifics for the savings—as it had done before—DOGE opted not to include identifying details related to the slashed grants, The New York Times reported Thursday. The White House claimed the new policy was instituted for security reasons.

#yahoo news #elon #elon musk #doge #department of government efficiency #politics #political #us politics #news #donald trump #president trump #american politics #jd vance #law

43 notes · View notes

yourminecraftboyfriend · 3 months ago

Text

nygmobs gems cuz I’ve fully lost the plot at this point

flushed out sketches under cut

(Gonna use he/him pronouns even tho most gems are she/her i knoowwwwww dont correct me on the lore ive seen this show like 3 times)

- even though generally he’s a pretty shit lawyer, Ed breaks open a pretty high-profile case, meaning his superior has to begrudgingly reward him

- as is custom, pearls are treated as property, basically status symbols, and post his recent victory Ed is given Oz (shortening names cuz they wouldn’t use their full ones) but he’s intended to be more of a punishment for Ed, since again no one likes him and Oz has been given the permanently defective status

- this is a huge downgrade for Oz considering the last gem he ‘worked’ for was a high-status general, in charge of many platoons of colonists. Needless to say, he’s bitter about the reassignment, but it was either this or be shattered (can no longer be reset with the permament chip in his gem)

- Ed’s really excited to be given a pearl (literally no one listens to him or talks to him so he’s Hype to have a gem around that has to listen to him)

- Oz doesn’t. Obviously. He figures out pretty quickly that Ed is not well-liked in his department and that he won’t report what Oz does (or doesn’t do) considering its very likely that Oz will be taken away from him if he does, and then he’ll go back to having no one around

- So now he’s not even trying to play nice, completely mean and bitter, finds Ed insufferable (Jesus Christ how does he have no many riddles just ready to go?) and they fight. A lot. But also Oz has never been allowed to talk back to any gems like this, and to Ed any attention is some attention at least

- they end up accidentally bonding when Ed says that he wishes he was made as a Peridot (or any gem that was made to do research) because then his intelligence would actually be respected, Oz says that Ed’s got it good, that he wishes he was made as literally any other gem because he was sick of following orders, he wanted power of his own

- they start ‘planning’ together. Mostly just hypotheticals, how they’d get respect, implicate gems that wronged them, prove their worth to higher-ups

- at one point mid plotting session they’re getting particularly into it, a little too intense and excited. This plan could work, the hypotheticals are seeming more feasible by the minute and neither of them has ever had a gem listen to them like this, and they accidentally fuse

- Chalcedony is initially quite stable. Being him feels so insanely good that they basically forget to panic for a while. He’s all ego with minimal self-esteem problems (which both Ed and Oz have, mostly due to how theyre treated by other gems, even if they believe they’re better than everyone else), believes he’s entitled to and able to obtain anything that he desires, and that he alone above everyone else should be revered, respected, and listened to

- when they unfuse, they both immediately know they want to do it again, though of course they won’t ask for it. Cue some comedy of errors nonsense where they both try to engineer situations that might make them ‘accidentally’ fuse again

(I’ve got more but this post is long enough already)

#js gotham fanart #nygmobblepot #no other tags this is just for a specific audience LMAO

40 notes · View notes

mckitterick · 2 years ago

Text

The End Is Near: "News" organizations using AI to create content, firing human writers

source: X

an example "story" now comes with this warning:

A new byline showed up Wednesday on io9: “Gizmodo Bot.” The site’s editorial staff had no input or advance notice of the new AI-generator, snuck in by parent company G/O Media.

G/O Media’s AI-generated articles are riddled with errors and outdated information, and block reader comments.

“As you may have seen today, an AI-generated article appeared on io9,” James Whitbrook, deputy editor at io9 and Gizmodo, tweeted. “I was informed approximately 10 minutes beforehand, and no one at io9 played a part in its editing or publication.”

Whitbrook sent a statement to G/O Media along with “a lengthy list of corrections.” In part, his statement said, “The article published on io9 today rejects the very standards this team holds itself to on a daily basis as critics and as reporters. It is shoddily written, it is riddled with basic errors; in closing the comments section off, it denies our readers, the lifeblood of this network, the chance to publicly hold us accountable, and to call this work exactly what it is: embarrassing, unpublishable, disrespectful of both the audience and the people who work here, and a blow to our authority and integrity.”

He continued, “It is shameful that this work has been put to our audience and to our peers in the industry as a window to G/O’s future, and it is shameful that we as a team have had to spend an egregious amount of time away from our actual work to make it clear to you the unacceptable errors made in publishing this piece.”

According to the Gizmodo Media Group Union, affiliated with WGA East, the AI effort has “been pushed by” G/O Media CEO Jim Spanfeller, recently hired editorial director Merrill Brown, and deputy editorial director Lea Goldman.

In 2019, Spanfeller and private-equity firm Great Hill Partners acquired Gizmodo Media Group (previously Gawker Media) and The Onion.

The Writers Guild of America issued a blistering condemnation of G/O Media’s use of artificial intelligence to generate content.

“These AI-generated posts are only the beginning. Such articles represent an existential threat to journalism. Our members are professionally harmed by G/O Media’s supposed ‘test’ of AI-generated articles.”

WGA added, “But this fight is not only about members in online media. This is the same fight happening in broadcast newsrooms throughout our union. This is the same fight our film, television, and streaming colleagues are waging against the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP) in their strike.”

The union, in its statement, said it “demands an immediate end of AI-generated articles on G/O Media sites,” which include The A.V. Club, Deadspin, Gizmodo, Jalopnik, Jezebel, Kotaku, The Onion, Quartz, The Root, and The Takeout.

but wait, there's more:

Just weeks after news broke that tech site CNET was secretly using artificial intelligence to produce articles, the company is doing extensive layoffs that include several longtime employees, according to multiple people with knowledge of the situation. The layoffs total 10 percent of the public masthead.

Greedy corporate sleazeballs using artificial intelligence are replacing humans with cost-free machines to barf out garbage content.

This is what end-stage capitalism looks like: An ouroborus of machines feeding machines in a downward spiral, with no room for humans between the teeth of their hungry gears.

Anyone who cares about human life, let alone wants to be a writer, should be getting out the EMP tools and burning down capitalist infrastructure right now before it's too late.

#artificial intelligence #journalism #writing #disasters #the end times #late stage capitalism

655 notes · View notes

justinspoliticalcorner · 4 months ago

Text

Lauren Gambino at The Guardian:

Donald Trump on Tuesday declared that his administration was “just getting started”, boasting in a marathon address to Congress that his efforts to slash the size of the federal workforce, reorient US foreign policy and escalate a risky trade war marked the beginning of the “most thrilling days in the history of our country” as Democratic lawmakers protested with placards that read “lies” and “false”.

“America is back,” Trump declared, opening his primetime speech to a joint session of Congress, the first of his second term and the longest in American history. Republicans broke into a boisterous chant of “USA”. Throughout the address, which lasted about one hour and 40 minutes, a jocular Trump touted his administration’s “swift and unrelenting action” and praised the work of his billionaire adviser Elon Musk, who has led his administration’s efforts to dramatically downsize the federal government through his so-called “department of government efficiency”. “Thank you, Elon,” Trump said, gesturing to Musk, who was seated in the house gallery overlooking the chamber where Democrats waved paddles that read “Musk steals”. Trump seized the high-profile moment to defend his administration’s action during the first weeks of his return to power, including, according to his tally, nearly 100 executive orders and more than 400 executive actions. “The people elected me to do the job, and I am doing it,” he said, making no mention of the legal challenges that have stalled many of his actions and deepening fears that his trade war will plunge the country into economic turmoil.

Trump also expanded on his “America first” foreign policy vision, just days after a dramatic Oval Office meeting with the Ukrainian president, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, spiraled out of control as Trump and JD Vance berated him over a perceived lack of respect. During his remarks, Trump recited from a letter Zelenskyy had shared earlier in the day, indicating that he was ready to return to the negotiating table to end Russia’s three-year war. The US had simultaneously received “strong signals” from Russia that Moscow was “ready for peace”, Trump said. “Wouldn’t that be beautiful?” Elsewhere, Trump envisioned the US expanding. He declared that his administration was in the process of “reclaiming the Panama canal” and repeated his threat to take control of Greenland: “One way or the other, we’re going to get it.” With performative flair, Trump offered a sampling of initiatives he said Musk’s team had identified as wasteful, among them the creation of an Arab Sesame Street, “making mice transgender” and promoting LGBTQ+ rights in Lesotho, the African country he said “nobody has ever heard of”. “This is real,” he exclaimed, drawing laughs from half of the chamber. Trump claimed that Musk’s cost-cutting efforts had identified “hundreds of billions of dollars of fraud”. But his estimate vastly overstated the savings Doge says it has generated, a figure which itself is based on accounting that multiple reports have found is riddled with errors and distortions. Early in the night, as Trump bragged about the size of his electoral college and popular vote victory – “a map that reads almost completely red for Republican” – Democrats heckled and booed, prompting the House speaker, Mike Johnson, to bang his gavel and demand decorum. “You don’t have a mandate,” shouted the Texas representative, Al Green. When the congressman, who last month filed articles of impeachment against Trump, refused to be seated, the speaker ordered him removed from the chamber. Trump claimed a mandate for “bold and profound change”, though at 1.5 points his winning margin in the popular vote was historically narrow and three points less than Joe Biden’s four years earlier.

[...] Past presidents have used the first major speech as an opportunity to reach across party lines and offer areas of common ground. Trump did the opposite. He taunted his political foes, blaming his predecessor for the price of eggs and claiming his victory ushered in a wave of tech investments that wouldn’t have happened if Kamala Harris had won the election. At one point he called Joe Biden the “worst president in American history”, drawing applause from Republicans.

“Why not join us in celebrating so many incredible wins for America,” Trump chided stone-faced Democrats. At least a handful of Democrats walked out of the speech early. Trump celebrated his clampdown on the US immigration and asylum system and called on the Republican-led Congress to deliver additional federal funding to expand his border crackdown and extend his first-term tax cuts. Some Democrats held signs that said “Save Medicaid” to highlight the social safety net programs that could be at risk under a Republican budget blueprint to deliver Trump’s sprawling agenda. The president also ticked through many of his controversial actions, from renaming the Gulf of Mexico to making English the country’s official language, and banning trans women from women’s sports. “Our counatry will be woke no longer,” he declared. The speech was riddled with falsehoods and misleading claims, including a riff about millions of centenarians aged “110 to 119” receiving social security benefits. “We have a healthier country than I thought, Bobby,” he quipped, referencing Robert F Kennedy Jr, his recently installed secretary of health and human services, who leads the vaccine-skeptical “Make America healthy again” movement. The 15 guests who joined Melania Trump, the first lady, to watch the address included the widow and daughter of Corey Comperatore, the firefighter who was killed at the campaign rally in Butler, Pennsylvania, where Trump survived an assassination attempt, as well as Marc Fogel, the American teacher Trump helped free from a Russian prison last month. Other guests were intended to highlight the administration’s policies, including family members of Americans killed by men in the US without legal status, and anti-trans advocates. There were poignant moments. Trump paused his remarks to sign an executive order renaming a wildlife refuge near Houston for an animal-loving 12-year-old girl who prosecutors say was killed by two Venezuelan men in the country illegally. Turning to another guest, 13-year-old Devarjaye “DJ” Daniel, who was diagnosed with brain cancer in 2018, Trump directed his Secret Service director to make him an honorary US Secret Service agent. The House Democratic leader, Hakeem Jeffries, had encouraged his members to attend the address in order to demonstrate a “strong, determined and dignified Democratic presence in the chamber”. Many did attend, bringing fired federal workers and Americans who rely on social safety net programs threatened by Republicans’ budget proposal.

Last night’s SOTU-esque joint address from fascist felon Donald Trump was more of the same for him: the greatest hits of lies, distortions, calumny, and bigotry that wouldn’t be out of place at one of his campaign rallies.