#science police training

[evilhorse]

We watched the sundown over the crimson sands that night, two very scared kids.

#legion of super heroes #colossal boy #gim allon #Gigi cusimano #mars #flashback #science police training #scared #love #origin story #the future #30th century #paul levitz #curt swan #dc comics #comics #80s comics

[chvoswxtch]

teach me

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you want frank to teach you self defense, but it doesn't quite go the way you expected.

warnings: swearing, some angst, mentions of guns, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.3k

a/n: what better way to end this year and start the new one than with our favorite hot bodyguard. don't ask me how many times I watched that scene with him and amy. it was for science. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“You’re being a dick.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to learn.”

“You’re still being a dick.”

“Yeah yeah, you ain’t gettin’ no sympathy from me, sweetheart. Now c’mon, try again.”

It was a good thing the cabin was isolated in the middle of the woods, because if anyone had been looking in the living room window at that very moment, they would’ve definitely called the police in horror. Frank had a gun in his right hand that was trained on you, and while he wore a neutral expression on his face, your brows were furrowed in pure annoyance and there was a faint scowl on your lips.

Letting out a huff of irritation, you kept your eyes focused on the gun in Frank’s hand, getting back into somewhat of a fighting stance again. Clenching your hands open and closed a few times, your teeth sank down into your bottom lip before you suddenly rushed forward in an endeavor to take the gun out of his hand. 

But just like he had done the past seven times you tried this, Frank easily managed to block your attempt. He grabbed your wrist in his free hand and spun you around swiftly, pulling you back firmly against his chest while a deep chuckle sounded right next to your ear.

“That was real cute.”

Letting go of you, Frank took a step back and lightly pressed at the back of your knee with the heel of his boot, sending you down to your knees below him. He decided to take it a step further and used the toe of his boot to gently shove at your ass, causing your hands to fly out to catch yourself, rendering you on all fours in front of him. Turning to narrow your eyes at him over your shoulder, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth let you know that was very intentional.

“You know, if you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask.”

“That right?”

Grumbling a string of curses under your breath, you pushed yourself back up onto your feet and turned around to shoot a death glare in Frank’s direction. His plush lips instantly parted into a crooked grin while he looked at you, cocking his head to the side slightly while his eyes twinkled in amusement.

“Aw, what’s wrong baby, hm?”

“I already told you, you’re being a dick. You’re supposed to be teaching me-”

“Then why don’t you quit actin’ like you know everythin’ and start askin’ questions, yeah?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what questions to ask? I asked you to teach me. Teach me means tell me what to do.”

“And when have you ever done what I told ya to?”

As you opened your mouth to protest, Frank arched one of his thick brows and shot you a pointed look, and your rebuttal quickly died on your tongue. You did have a history of ignoring his instructions completely and doing whatever you wanted anyway. With that in mind, you let out a deep exhale through your nose and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, that’s…fair. But this is completely out of my area of expertise. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never even held a gun until four days ago. And for the record, when it comes to something serious, I do listen to you. This is serious, and I’m listening.”

Originally when you asked Frank to teach you self defense with a gun, he was completely against it. He made the argument that with him around, you wouldn’t have to worry about that, to which you reminded him of the incident where two people tried to kill you in your own home where you had nothing to protect yourself with and no knowledge of how to in the first place. 

The two of you went back and forth about it for at least an hour. He made the case that it was a one time incident that would never happen again, and argued that nothing was ever going to happen to you in the first place anyway because he showed up to take care of it. You argued back that Frank wouldn’t be by your side twenty-four seven anymore and would eventually be assigned to someone else, possibly taking him far away for extended periods of time.

In the end, you wore him down like you usually did until he gave in and you got your way.

Frank took in the impatient and stubborn expression covering your features, the one he had become all too familiar with and grown to adore. You were a force to be reckoned with when you wanted something, just as much as he was. Even though he didn’t want you to ever have a reason to use a gun, he would rather know you were safe and could handle yourself in his absence if it came down to it. 

“Alright, alright. Wipe that pout off your face and c’mere.”

Doing your best to conceal your tiny smile of victory, you went to stand in front of Frank, but he held his large hand out to stop you and motioned for you to move back a little.

“Keep your distance, okay? You don’t wanna be too close. Now, step one.”

Frank reached out to grab your wrist and brought your hand up towards the barrel of the gun, placing his large hand on top of your own and squeezing gently to signal for you to grab onto it. Once he felt your tight grip on the barrel, he slid his hand over to grab onto your forearm and pushed against it, which caused the gun in his right hand to shift directions. It was no longer aimed at you, but pointed at the wall to your left.

“You wanna take the gun offline, yeah? Look.”

Glancing up at him briefly, you nodded to show him that you were paying attention. When he pulled your arm back in the position it was before, aiming the gun at you once again, you quickly redirected your focus back to his large hands. To reiterate what he was trying to explain to you, Frank repeated his demonstration two more times to make sure you understood.

“Offline, right? Offline, right? And push hard, as hard as you can.”

While Frank’s eyes were locked on you as he demonstrated the first step, you were studying his movements, committing every detail to memory. It seemed simple enough in theory so far. Keep your distance, grab the barrel of the gun, and push it away from yourself hard. When he let go of your arm, you let go of the gun, and you looked up to see that Frank was already watching you.

“Show me.”

Without hesitating, you swiftly reached out to grab the barrel of the gun and forcefully pushed it to the left. Frank let you redirect it to a certain point, and then pushed back to hold the gun in place. His strength was something you couldn’t combat, and as you kept pushing at the barrel, his resistance  made the gun almost wobble in your hands. 

“Attagirl. Easy, easy. Relax.”

Frank reached out with his left hand and grabbed onto your wrist, gently squeezing it to steady your hand.

“Alright, now step two, you go for that wrist, yeah? You get control. Go.”

Immediately you reached out with your right hand to wrap your fingers around Frank’s wrist to grab onto it tightly. Giving a slight shake of his head, Frank pulled your hand off of his wrist and guided it underneath his wrist instead.

“Look, underneath, yeah? Underneath. Go for the joint. Joints are weakest.”

Everything Frank was showing you seemed so simple that it filled you with a false sense of confidence. With your right hand under his right wrist, you gripped onto the barrel tightly with your left hand and took a step back as you tried to tug it away, thinking it would spring loose. Frank let out a grunt of disapproval and pulled his right arm back, easily slipping the gun out of your grasp completely and causing you to stumble forward a bit. He had a somewhat stern look on his face as he wagged the gun in your direction twice.

“Easy, bang bang. Don’t ever pull a gun towards you. You push it away.”

Letting out a huff of annoyance as your previous overzealous confidence fizzled out, you looked up at Frank as he held his left hand out towards you to signal for you to stay in place. He wasn’t teasing you anymore like he had been earlier. This wasn't Frank that had made you strawberry pancakes and caressed your legs while they sat in his lap as the two of you shared breakfast this morning. This was Frank that nearly sent your ex to the morgue instead of prison. He was back in full protective bodyguard mode.

“Listen to me. Use your legs, get underneath, and twist. Don’t pull, twist. Yeah? C’mon, show me.”

Taking a deep breath, you gave a slight nod and went over the steps in your head. Grab the barrel of the gun, shove it away from yourself, slip your other hand under the wrist joint, and twist the gun away. Your lips faintly twitched as you silently recited the steps to yourself three times for good measure. Frank didn’t make a move to rush you. He kept his eyes on you and waited patiently until you were ready to give it a try. 

Sucking in one more deep breath, your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and you sprung into action. Taking a quick step forward, you reached out to tightly grab the barrel of the gun with your left hand, and while you pushed it away to the left, you simultaneously slipped your right hand under Frank’s wrist. Twisting the barrel of the gun forcefully to the right caused Frank’s wrist to twist with it until he was forced to let go, and in that short window of weakness you were able to pull the gun out of his hand with a hard step backwards.

Glancing down at the gun in your hands, your eyes went wide with surprise and your mouth hung open as you let out an incredulous laugh. 

“Holy shit, that actually worked!”

Frank held his hands up like you had just made a touchdown, and he started to clap as a proud tooth bearing grin stretched over his lips.

“Look at that, huh? Who got a gun, huh?”

Looking up at Frank, your lips parted into a huge grin of your own while you held it up like a trophy and spoke in a proud voice.

“I have a gun.”

“Attagirl. You’re goddamn right you do. You did good, sweetheart. Real good. Feels good, yeah?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you let out a soft laugh while admiring the gun in your hands. Well, more so admiring the fact that you were able to actually take it from Frank. The only reason you felt comfortable holding the gun right now was because Frank had shown you the clip was empty before he started demonstrating the basics earlier. 

Pointing a loaded gun at Steven had been different. You were blinded in a fit of rage, not thinking clearly, but deep down you knew there was no way you would have actually pulled the trigger. However if you had been level headed, you probably wouldn’t have taken it from Billy, even if he offered. 

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

And it did feel good. It made you feel strong…less helpless. Frank was giving you back a sense of safety and security that had been stolen from you when you were first threatened by the Defenders of Freedom. Even if you never used this lesson, and you genuinely hoped you wouldn’t have to, you felt a surge of confidence knowing that you were at least capable of protecting yourself in some capacity. 

“Okay, step three.”

A pinch of confusion settled between your brows as you looked up at Frank when he mentioned a third step, and you noticed that he wasn’t smiling anymore. A grim look had settled over his features that sent a chill of unease down your spine.

“You just took a gun off someone that wanted to use it on you. What d’you do.”

The delight of pride had disappeared from his face and was swiftly replaced by a shadow of severity that was now coveting his sharp features, and the elated grin that was on your own lips had slowly fallen from grace. It was a rhetorical question you both knew the answer to, but you hadn’t factored in a third step. It hadn’t even crossed your mind, and Frank could see that in your eyes.

“You use it on them. Don’t matter who they are, you do not hesitate. You got that?”

Looking down at the gun in your hands, the weight of it was suddenly too heavy in your palms. Step three was a reminder that step one and two weren’t just to boost your confidence in protecting yourself; they were steps to defend yourself. Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head in silent understanding.

“Good. Show me.”

Frank’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t a suggestion either. Placing both of your hands on the gun the way he had shown you to properly hold it, you took a deep breath, slowly raising it to aim in Frank’s direction. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that he knew the clip was empty, or that this most likely wasn’t the first time he had stared down the barrel of a gun, but he looked completely unphased. The canvas of his face was expressionless, but his eyes were what you had learned to read. Only right now, you couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell you. 

The gun trembled slightly in your grasp, as if every cell in your body knew exactly how wrong it felt to point a gun at Frank, loaded or not. The self defense lesson you wanted for a possible yet highly improbable scenario had quickly become too heavy and realistic, and you were quickly regretting even asking for it.

“Show me.”

“I’m not doing that-”

“It ain’t loaded-”

“Frank, I don’t want to-”

“What’d I say, huh? I don’t care who it is, you do not hesitate. Ever. Now, show me you understand.”

Frank’s tone was a little more forceful, but the volume of it was still even and somewhat soft. You knew there were no repercussions if you didn’t pull the trigger. He had learned early on that he couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to, and you trusted him enough to know that he would never try to force you. Frank never demanded anything of you, he always asked.

But you had asked for this, and he wanted you to follow through with it.

Clenching your jaw, you let out a shaky exhale through your nose, and you slowly squeezed the trigger like he had taught you to yesterday when you were out in the woods using cans as target practice. The click that sounded caused you to flinch, and it seemed to echo loudly in the living room. Frank on the other hand didn’t visibly react to it at all.

Without another word, you placed the gun down onto the coffee table a little too forcefully and headed towards the back door, wanting to put as much distance between it and yourself as possible. Frank caught your wrist before you could get too far and gently tugged you back towards himself.

“Hey-”

“I’m going for a walk.”

“No, you ain’t. You ain’t runnin’ away, you’re gonna stay here and talk to me. We ain’t doin’ that not communicatin’ shit. Why are you upset?”

“I told you I didn’t want to do that-”

“You asked me to teach you. I said no, but you kept on beggin’. What did you think this was gonna be, huh? You think you get a gun off someone, and it ends there? No. As soon as you get control and take it, you use it. No negotiatin’, no questionin’ it, you do it-”

“And what if I can’t, Frank?”

The distress in your voice made him pause and clench his jaw. He could see that you were visibly upset, and for a moment he wondered if he was being too hard on you. You said it yourself, this was not your area of expertise. It was his. Frank had years of professional training under his belt. Pulling a trigger was something he didn’t even have to think twice about. It was an automatic response. The aftermath of what followed didn’t even make him bat an eye. There were always casualties in war. 

But you weren’t a soldier, and having to actually pull the trigger on someone would be something that haunted you for the rest of your life if it came down to it.

Letting out a deep exhale through his large nose, Frank stepped forward and wrapped one of his arms around your waist to pull you into his embrace while using his other hand to slip his fingers gently into your hair to brush it back before cradling your face in his right hand.

“Listen to me. If it comes down to you, or someone else, you do whatever you gotta do to save yourself, you got that?”

The rational part of your brain knew that Frank was right. If you had taken a gun from Cavella or Walker, you would’ve had to shoot them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to kill you if they had it. But the emotional part of your brain was struggling to figure out if you could handle the consequences of taking someone’s life, justified or not. Frank could see the internal conflict in your eyes, and he lightly brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone as the rough timbre of his voice broke the tense silence.

“Hey, no one’s sayin’ you gotta shoot ‘em point blank, alright? I’ve seen your aim, and it ain’t all that great anyway. You’d be lucky to scare ‘em off with firin’ a terrible shot just so you could get away.”

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you let out a dry laugh. As much as you wanted to be annoyed, he was right. You were terrible. You didn’t hit a single can yesterday, even at close range. You did manage to scare the shit out of some crows in a tree though.

“You are such an ass.”

The edge of Frank’s mouth twitched up into a light smirk while giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“And you’re cute thinkin’ you could actually do some damage. I know a blind guy that can hit targets better than you. Look, you gotta stop gettin’ upset ‘bout things that might not even happen, alright? If it ever comes down to it, remember that you’re the one controllin’ the gun, yeah? It ain’t controllin’ you. Wherever you aim, the bullet’s gonna go. You can shoot ‘em in the leg, foot, shoulder, hell shoot ‘em in the dick for all I care. That’ll keep ‘em down for a while. You just promise me you’ll pull that trigger. You get ‘em down however you want, and then you get the hell outta there. That’s all you gotta do, yeah?”

Frank dipped his head to catch your eyes, staring intently into them. Letting out a deep breath, you bit down on your bottom lip and nodded while placing your hands on Frank’s biceps. You could do that. Injuring someone just to get away was a lot more manageable for your conscience. Frank lightly grasped your jaw in his large hand, his bottom three fingers wrapping around your throat while his index finger and thumb held your jaw. He tipped your head back so that you had no choice but to look up at him.

“Lemme hear you say it.”

Staring up into his warm brown eyes, you gazed up at him silently for a moment before speaking.

“No hesitating. I promise.”

“Attagirl. C’mere.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a soft and sweet kiss. Sometimes it amazed you how easily he was able to talk you down from the ledge. Frank was a man of few words, but he somehow always knew exactly which ones to say to ease whatever anxieties were weighing on your mind. And the distraction of his plush lips against yours also certainly helped.

Ever since the other night by the fireplace, every kiss between the two of you that started out soft and sweet had a way of evolving into something more passionate and insatiable. Maybe it was the months of denying your feelings for one another, or maybe there was just some magnetic pull between your souls, but whatever it was, neither of you could get enough.

Before you could even register that you were moving, Frank was lifting you up by your hips and setting you down on the dining table, his hungry kisses leaving a searing path along your jawline and down the column of your neck.

“Did good today, sweetheart. Did real goddamn good, made me so proud.”

Frank’s gravely songs of praise in your ear only further ignited the flame of desire that was burning in your lower belly. Despite the warmth of his large palm touching your bare skin as he slipped it underneath your shirt to caress your lower back, a shiver teasingly tumbled down your spine from the contact.

“I had a good teacher.”

“Nah, I think you’re just a natural, baby.”

“I thought I had terrible aim?”

“Didn’t say you were perfect. Everybody’s got their strengths and weaknesses.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you could feel the rumble of Frank’s deep chuckle vibrating in his chest that was pressed against yours.

“Wow, you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Castle.”

Frank pulled back slightly to look down at you, his eyes traveling over your figure to drink in the sight of you sitting on the edge of the dining table before they slowly wandered back up to meet your gaze. He arched one of his thick brows as a smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yours are currently danglin’, sweetheart.”

Before you could retort with a smartass comment of your own, Frank’s mouth was back on your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin. Feeling his tongue gliding along your collarbone and giving it a delectable love bite, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back, granting Frank all the access he wanted to your skin.

The feeling of his lips on your neck was so heavenly you almost didn’t notice that he had popped the button on your jeans and tugged down your zipper until he was lifting you up slightly with one arm around your waist and pulling the denim down your hips with his free hand. As soon as your jeans were completely off, your own hands were reaching for Frank’s belt buckle, but he grasped your wrists and halted your attempt. A soft noise of protest quickly slipped past your lips.

“Frank-”

“Shh shh shh. Spread your legs for me, baby.”

A rush of heat pooled in your cheeks at his request, but you obliged immediately. Frank leaned in to kiss you deeply, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip and nipping at it softly while his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties and slipped them off too slowly for your liking. The sudden contact of the crisp autumn air coming in through the open windows hitting your slicked folds had you gasping, and Frank used that to his advantage by slipping his tongue into your mouth to caress your own sensually. 

“Spread ‘em wider for me, sweetheart. C’mon.”

Frank’s deep voice was quiet, but it nestled in your ears as comfortably as it did between your thighs. He pulled you a little more towards the edge of the dining table, and when you spread your legs further for him, he sank down to his knees in front of you and let out a low groan of appreciation at the sight waiting for him. 

“Attagirl, that’s it. God, look at you. You should see how fuckin’ pretty you look right now, baby.”

His large hands gripped onto your soft thighs, kneading and squeezing your flesh with his thick fingers. Frank didn’t waste a second before diving into your cunt face first. As soon as his warm and wet tongue began to strum your clit like chords to his favorite song, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. He brought your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his face so deep into your core, you weren’t sure how he was breathing.

Your hand quickly found a fistful of his slightly grown out hair that you gripped onto to steady yourself, and when you gave it an experimental tug, the vibration of his groan against your clit had your thighs trembling more than any toy you had ever gotten for yourself before.

“Fuck…Frank…”

Frank let out a loud grunt as he pulled back for just a moment to stare at your glistening pussy almost in awe, his hooded eyes briefly meeting your own for a second before focusing back on the display of your desire for him.

“Taste so good sweetheart, so fuckin’ good. You got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

He dove right back in, this time slipping his tongue inside of you to explore while using his large nose to bump against your clit repeatedly. The stimulation had your back arching off the dining table and a loud moan echoed throughout the cabin. Tugging harder at his dark roots, you pushed your hips up against his face, desperately and greedily searching for more. None of your exes had ever eaten you out like this before. Most of them didn’t even know what the fuck they were doing, and the rest gave up after a few minutes because it “took too long”, but still expected you to suck them off until your jaw ached.

But Frank…God, Frank knew what he was doing. His thick fingers were digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, following your hips wherever they went. The groans that continued to vibrate against your clit not only turned you on because of their stimulation, but because you could tell that Frank was genuinely enjoying eating your pussy. The fact that he was getting just as much pleasure out of it as you were had you on the brink of an orgasm alone. Frank had a way of making every experience feel brand new, and it made you realize just how much you had been missing out on in your previous relationships.

That familiar bubbly feeling was building up inside of you, cresting slowly like a tidal wave ready to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting beach. Your breaths were coming out in short staccato variations, and at this point you were roughy tugging at Frank’s hair with both hands while essentially fucking his face. Not that he seemed to mind at all. If anything, it just seemed to make him more feral.

“Yesyesyesyes…please-fuck, Frank…I…I…”

Frank pulled you even closer towards the edge of the dining table to where your ass was basically hanging off of it, and the jolt of his large palm smacking against your ass was the only indication you got that he understood what you were trying to tell him.

You thought you had more time, but your climax suddenly crashed into you without further warning, and your hips were stuttering as Frank continued his incessant assault on your pussy with his tongue. It seemed like he didn’t want to let a drop of your essence go to waste, and while you appreciated his enthusiasm, the way he was flicking his tongue rapidly against your overstimulated clit was riding that very thin line between pain and pleasure, and you were weakly shoving at his broad shoulders.

“Okay okay okay…Frank…fuck, please! Just…give me a second, God-”

Frank dragged his tongue up your entire pussy from your entrance to your clit one last time before granting you mercy with a low growl. While you panted heavily laying back against the dining room table, he was pressing featherlight kisses to each of your inner thighs, but due to your body feeling like a live wire, they felt like faint shocks that had your body jolting every time his wet lips met your heated skin. He chuckled deeply watching you respond to his touch.

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

Lifting your hand, you gave him a weak thumbs up, and Frank just laughed even louder in amusement at that. The sound of his laughter combined with your own blissed out post orgasm state had a lazy grin stretching over your lips. You felt his large and rough hands slipping underneath your shirt, gently caressing your bare skin and grabbing your waist while he leaned over you, kissing your lips deeply. The taste of your own sweet tang on Frank’s tongue had your head spinning, and a soft hum sounded in the back of your throat.  Even though you were still recovering from your first ever oral orgasm, the feeling of Frank’s hard cock straining against his jeans and rubbing against your inner thigh reignited your greed.

Brushing your hand slowly down his chest, you palmed him firmly through his jeans, and Frank let out a grunt while pushing himself further against your hand. He broke the kiss momentarily to nuzzle his large nose against your throat.

“If ya need a minute-”

“No. Now.”

While you unfastened his belt in record time, Frank placed his hands on the table on either side of your head and pulled back to look down at you with a soft chuckle at your impatience. He lightly cocked his head to the side, his brown eyes darkened with lust as they roamed over you shamelessly. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and a crooked smirk caressed his mouth.

“Anybody ever tell you what an impatient lil thing you are?”

A smirk of your own tugged across your lips while you slipped your hand into his jeans, stroking his thick cock through his briefs, earning a quiet grunt from Frank.

“Apart from you every day since we met? Maybe a few other people. Is my lack of patience really what you wanna talk about right now, big guy?”

The sultry tone of your voice did not go unnoticed by Frank, and in fact, it only made his cock swell even more in your welcoming hand. He slowly moved his hips back and forth as you teasingly stroked him and leaned down closer towards you, nuzzling his nose along your throat before whispering huskily into your ear.

“Got somethin’ better in mind.”

By the time Frank had carried you down the hall to the master bedroom, the two of you had left a trail of forgotten items of clothing strewn like breadcrumbs along the path from the kitchen. He let you push him back against the mattress and grabbed your hips to pull you on top of him, his lips moving in sync with your own, but when you felt the swollen head of his cock bump against your clit, you suddenly pressed your palms firmly against his chest and pulled back while breaking the kiss.

“Wait.”

Frank immediately paused, loosening his grip on your hips, his lust clouded eyes clearing a bit while searching your own and wandering over your figure for the source of the problem.

“What? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The concern in his rough timbre combined with the worry in his soft brown eyes made your heart melt. A gentle smile covered your lips while you reached out to delicately hold his strong jaw in your hands, and you leaned in to kiss his lips softly.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t think it’s fair you get to have all the fun.”

Frank’s apprehension morphed into confusion, and a few creases nestled between his thick brows. 

“Huh?”

Letting out a soft laugh at how adorable he looked when he was confused, you decided to explain with actions instead of words. When you moved backwards off his lap to settle between his legs, Frank raised himself up on his elbows, following you with his eyes as he watched you intently. 

“What are you-holy shit.”

Frank’s jaw went slack the second you leaned in and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it once before beginning to take a few inches into your mouth. Placing one of your hands on his left hip, you teasingly moved your lips up his length until he was out of your mouth with a satisfying pop. Pursing your lips, you let a string of glistening saliva slowly drop onto his tip and used your free hand to spread it down the rest of his thick cock for lubrication, and after wrapping your fingers around his girth, you began to twist your wrist up and down slowly. 

You could feel how tense he was through your hold on his hip. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you noticed that he was staring directly at you, completely mesmerized, and was gripping onto the sheets so tightly you thought he might rip them. Moving your hand from his hip, you reached out to caress his hand, and he slowly loosened his grip, his knuckles no longer stark white. His plush lips were parted, and he was breathing hard, his thick brows knit in complete focus. You allowed him to slip out of your mouth for just a moment to smile softly up at Frank.

“Just relax.”

The sweet sound of your voice seemed to reach his ears, and after a few more moments of hesitation, Frank finally laid back against the mattress and let his head rest on the pillows. He moved the hand that was underneath yours to grab your wrist, turning your hand over so he could slot his fingers between yours to hold it. His other hand slowly came over to card his fingers through your hair before cradling the back of your head. Giving his hand that you were holding a light squeeze, you continued to hold eye contact with Frank while slowly sucking him off, using your hand that was around his base to work over what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

The sound of his quiet grunts and low moans sent a thrill through you, and you wanted to know just how vocal he could get. Letting go of his hand, you placed both of your palms firmly on his hips and relaxed your jaw completely, taking his entire cock into your mouth until his tip hit the back of your throat. A guttural groan ripped from the depth of his chest and his lower abdomen instantly tensed up as he gripped onto your hair.

“Goddamn-fuck…fuck, sweetheart. Do…do that again. Please…please baby, do it again.”

Taking in a deep inhale through your nose, you prepared yourself to deepthroat Frank’s thick cock again, and this time you held him there until your eyes started to water. He let out a louder moan of your name, and that caused the throbbing between your thighs to evolve from dull to downright unbearable. You thought about sneaking your hand downwards to get a little relief, but Frank had been so unselfish when he ate you out, only focused on your pleasure, and he deserved that same treatment. 

All of a sudden, Frank roughly tugged at your hair, and that made you moan around his cock. You heard him let out a quiet fuck under his breath in response. He gave your hair another tug to get your attention, and his cock slipped from your lips as you licked them and tried to catch your breath while staring at him, noticing that he had sat up.

“C’mere.”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest before he grabbed your throat and pulled you in close to kiss you fervently. Frank’s large and rough hands grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap again, and you let out a soft whine against his lips when the head of his cock rubbed against your sensitive clit. 

“Frank, I didn’t get to finish-”

“As much as I’d love to come down that pretty throat, I need ya baby. Need ya now.”

Grabbing the base of his cock, Frank positioned himself perfectly with your entrance and pulled you down slowly, letting you feel every single inch of him. Your mouth hung open at the sensation, and your body instantly tensed up. You thought Frank had been deep the other night, but he was reaching an even greater depth inside of you right now if that was possible. There was a slight burn as your walls stretched to accommodate his size, but your brain barely even registered it, because Frank was slipping his tongue into your mouth and kissing you sensually as if he wanted to steal the very essence of life from your lungs. 

Once he was fully nestled deep inside of you, a high pitched cry left your mouth, and he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly.

“Shh…s’alright. Just relax for me, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clung to Frank as he wrapped both of his strong arms around your waist and held you tightly against his chest. Both of you sat there for a moment, your foreheads pressed together as you panted. He rubbed his large calloused hand up and down your spine soothingly, his teeth grazing along your ear lobe and biting down gently to distract you from any discomfort. Slowly, the tension in your body melted, and you gave an experimental roll of your hips that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“That’s it…attagirl. Take your time, sweetheart. M’right here. I got you.”

This felt right. It felt…perfect. Those three little words almost slipped out right there. Grabbing onto the back of his neck, you pulled Frank in for a passionate kiss, trying to pour every ounce of emotion you felt into it. He groaned quietly against your lips when your nails lightly scratched at the back of his head where his hair was shaved closely to his scalp. Moving your hips in slow circles, you grinded down onto Frank’s cock, and he flexed his hips upwards to match your rhythm. The other night by the fireplace had been the best experience of your life, but this…this was something you couldn’t put into words.

Placing your palms against Frank’s firm chest, you pressed lightly and he followed your silent instructions, allowing you to push him onto his back. His large hands gripped firmly onto your hips as he gazed up at you, and you kept your palms flat on his chest while slowly riding his cock. Neither of you could tear your eyes away from each other. The feeling of his warm hands leisurely moving up your bare skin made you shiver, and a soft gasp left your lips when he groped your breasts and squeezed gently. The calloused pad of his thumb gingerly brushing over your peaked nipple had you arching your back, pressing your chest further into his eager hands.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

The sincerity in Frank’s vulnerable whisper nearly brought tears to your eyes. He wasn’t saying it because he thought it was what you wanted to hear, he was saying it because he felt it, and he was making you feel it too. The way he was staring up at you like you were the only thing that mattered had your heart swelling inside your ribcage like a balloon about to burst. It had been a long time since you mattered to someone, and you felt lucky it was Frank. The look in his eyes was almost too much to handle.

Letting your head fall back, you closed your eyes for a moment as you writhed on top of Frank, getting completely lost in how good it felt to be connected to him in such a raw and intimate way. One of his hands traveled up from your breast towards your throat, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around it almost entirely, forcing you to face him again. He pulled you down over him so that your forehead was pressed to his, and the two of you stared deeply into each other's eyes. 

“Frank-”

“I wanna see you. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come for me. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Being this close to him, you noticed for the first time that there were scattered flecks of honey in his deep brown eyes. They looked so warm and inviting, like two melted pools of chocolate you wanted to drown in. The eyes that could say so much with a single look. You thought you could see it…that flicker that he felt it too. You wanted to tell him so fucking badly, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment, and the way he was hitting that spongy spot inside of you that could cause supernovas to appear behind your eyelids was making it hard for you to speak at all.

Holding his face in your hand, your eyes drifted back and forth between his own as you stared down at him in complete devotion, your lips parted as you nodded your head frantically while short and breathy moans escaped you. Frank’s eyes were focused solely on you, one of his hands holding the back of your head while his other remained around your throat. It was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes open, but you didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment.

It was also getting harder and harder to not voice the sentiment that was overflowing from your ribcage.

“Frank…I…I-”

Frank cut off your words by capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The softness of his lips against yours, the heat of his bare skin pressed to your own, his thick fingers wrapped around your neck and tangled in your hair, his pubic bone rubbing just right against your clit…it was all too much. Breaking the kiss, you buried your face into the crook of his neck and let out a sharp cry of his name. Your nails raked harshly down his chest when your climax finally peaked, and a white hot cloud of hedonistic desire blinded your vision. 

Your entire body seized up, and you could faintly hear Frank whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he gripped your hips and repeatedly thrust up into you, fucking you through your orgasm while barreling towards his own. The sensation of that alone was enough to nearly send you free falling into another. The intensity of your orgasm had rendered you an incoherent and moaning mess. Frank dug his fingers roughly into the flesh of your hips and came with a deep grunt that nearly sounded like a growl, letting out a loud groan of your name.

The room felt like a sauna. Your face felt overheated, and your hair was stuck to your cheeks and the back of your neck with sweat. Frank had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, hugging you against his chest. The feeling of his strong heartbeat thundering against your own chest kept you anchored to the moment while your body trembled with aftershocks. You couldn’t move, and you didn’t want to.

As soon as Frank made a move to sit up and pull out of you, a desperate and high pitched whine of protest fell from your lips while you gripped onto his shoulder and dug your nails into the muscle.

“No no no no no, please…don’t move.”

Frank instantly stilled, bringing one of his hands up to brush the sweaty hair stuck to your forehead and neck away. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and gave your body a gentle squeeze in his strong arms.

“Okay, we don’t gotta move yet.”

Letting out a soft sigh of relief, you buried your face further into Frank’s neck, letting the comforting scent of his cologne calm you. He gently carded his thick fingers through your hair and kept holding you tightly to his chest while resting his head against your own.

“I just wanna stay like this for a while.”

“We can stay like this as long as you want, sweetheart.”

When you started to regain your senses, you started to wonder just how true that statement was. 

How long could you and Frank stay like this before reality came knocking?

Your home wouldn’t always be a crime scene. Eventually the two of you would have to go back to work. Now that everything had changed between the two of you, what would a new normal look like? Frank’s job required him to be with someone constantly. What happens when he gets assigned to someone else? What if it’s another woman? Even though Frank was broody and unapproachable initially, you had still found him attractive, and all the time you spent together over the past few months led you right here to this moment.

What if that happened with someone else? What if the next woman he was assigned to found him just as attractive? What if she wanted him? You and Frank hadn’t really established what this was between the two of you. Were you together? Did he want to be together? Would he still want to be together if the next woman was prettier and less stubborn and actually-

“Quit it.”

The sound of his deep voice breaking through the silence interrupted your spiraling. 

“What?”

“Whatever you’re overthinkin’ right now, let it go.”

Removing your face from the crook of Frank’s neck, you pulled back slightly to peer down at him in pure curiosity.

“How do you even-”

“I can practically hear the gears turnin’ in your head, sweetheart. You keep thinkin’ so hard, smoke’s gonna start comin’ out of your ears.”

Giving him a pointed look expressing you weren’t amused, he let out a quiet chuckle and gently brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

“C’mon, you ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout right now. Just relax, yeah?”

Letting out a soft sigh, you nodded and laid your head back against Frank’s shoulder, nuzzling your nose against his neck as he hugged onto you tightly. For a while, you two laid there wrapped up in one another, and you were able to let some of your anxieties go. The afterglow of your shared euphoria was peaceful, and you could’ve even fallen asleep at that moment, but something Frank said earlier suddenly popped back into your head. 

“Hey Frank?”

“Hm?”

“Do you really know a blind guy that has a good aim with guns?”

Frank let out a quiet snicker at your question.

“He don’t use guns. He’s too…Catholic.”

That did nothing to answer your question and only fueled you with more inquiries.

“But…you said he could hit targets better than I could.”

Frank simply grunted in response. You stayed silent waiting for further explanation, but when one didn’t come, you continued your questions.

“How?”

“Hell if I know.”

Sitting up a little bit again, you stared down at Frank in complete puzzlement.

“But…he’s blind. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No it don’t.”

“So…he’s-”

“An asshole. Go to sleep.”

Letting out a soft laugh, your eyes widened slightly as you gently smacked his chest.

“Frank!”

“What? Cause he’s blind he can’t be an asshole?”

“Well…no. But…how does he do it?”

“You’ll have to ask ‘em yourself.”

“I thought Billy was your only friend.”

Frank pulled a look of faux offense at that, his thick brows knit as he let out a puff of air through his lips.

“Ouch. I got other friends, smartass. And I never said he was one. He’s more of a pain in my ass.”

Frank gently pinched your ass which made you squeal before erupting into a fit of laughter.

“Hey!”

A huge grin split across your lips as he suddenly flipped you both over, managing to keep himself nestled inside of you while he pinned you beneath his large body. As he leaned in to kiss your lips, you brought your index finger up and pressed it against his mouth.

“I’m not done. I have more questions.”

“Course you do.”

“I wanna know who this mystery blind man is with good aim, and your other friends that you suddenly have that you’ve kept from me. While you’re at it, is there anything else you’re hiding, Castle?”

While your question was intended to be teasing, a dark look flashed across Frank’s eyes, and it made your breath hitch in your throat. He stared down at you silently for a moment, and it made you wonder just how much more there was to Frank that you hadn’t uncovered yet. As soon as you removed your finger from his lips, Frank leaned in closer, caging you in with his large hands on either side of your head. As he loomed over you, he slowly thrust his hips against your own, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. His breath was warm against your lips while he nuzzled his large nose along your own, his rough voice coming out in a husky whisper.

“Think I liked you better when the only thing you could say was my name, sweetheart.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle smut #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher smut #the punisher series

[transmutationisms]

can u elaborate on posture being a lie

As Beth Linker explains in her book “Slouch: Posture Panic in Modern America” (Princeton), a long history of anxiety about the proximity between human and bestial nature has played out in this area of social science. Linker, a historian of medicine at the University of Pennsylvania, argues that at the onset of the twentieth century the United States became gripped by what she characterizes as a poor-posture epidemic: a widespread social contagion of slumping that could, it was feared, have deleterious effects not just upon individual health but also upon the body politic. Sitting up straight would help remedy all kinds of failings, physical and moral [...] she sees the “past and present worries concerning posture as part of an enduring concern about so-called ‘diseases of civilization’ ”—grounded in a mythology of human ancestry that posits the hunter-gatherer as an ideal from which we have fallen.

[...]

In America at the turn of the twentieth century, anxieties about posture inevitably collided with anxieties not just about class but also about race. Stooping was associated with poverty and with manual, industrialized labor—the conditions of working-class immigrants from European countries who, in their physical debasement, were positioned well below the white Anglo-Saxon Protestant establishment. Linker argues that, in this environment, “posture served as a marker of social status similar to skin color.” At the same time, populations that had been colonized and enslaved were held up as posture paradigms for the élite to emulate: the American Posture League rewarded successful students with congratulatory pins that featured an image of an extremely upright Lenape man. The head-carrying customs associated with African women were also adopted as training exercises for white girls of privilege, although Linker notes that Bancroft and her peers recommended that young ladies learn to balance not baskets and basins, which signified functionality, but piles of flat, slippery books, markers of their own access to leisure and education. For Black Americans, posture was even more fraught: despite the admiration granted to the posture of African women bearing loads atop their heads, community leaders like Dr. Algernon Jackson, who helped establish the National Negro Health Movement, criticized those Black youth who “too often slump along, stoop-shouldered and walk with a careless, lazy sort of dragging gait.” If slouching among privileged white Americans could indicate an enviable carelessness, it was seen as proof of indolence when adopted by the disadvantaged.

This being America, posture panic was swiftly commercialized, with a range of products marketed to appeal to the eighty per cent of the population whose carriage had been deemed inadequate by posture surveys. The footwear industry drafted orthopedic surgeons to consult on the design of shoes that would lessen foot and back pain without the stigma of corrective footwear: one brand, Trupedic, advertised itself as “a real anatomical shoe without the freak-show look.” The indefatigable Jessie Bancroft trained her sights on children’s clothing, endorsing a company that created a “Right-Posture” jacket, whose trim cut across the upper shoulders gave its schoolboy wearer little choice but to throw his shoulders back like Jordan Baker. Bancroft’s American Posture League endorsed girdles and corsets for women; similar garments were also adopted by men, who, by the early nineteen-fifties, were purchasing abdominal “bracers” by the millions.

It was in this era that what eventually proved to be the most contentious form of posture policing reached its height, when students entering college were required to submit to mandatory posture examinations, including the taking of nude or semi-nude photographs. For decades, incoming students had been evaluated for conditions such as scoliosis by means of a medical exam, which came to incorporate photography to create a visual record. Linker writes that for many male students, particularly those who had military training, undressing for the camera was no biggie. For female students, it was often a more disquieting undertaking. Sylvia Plath, who endured it in 1950, drew upon the experience in “The Bell Jar,” whose protagonist, Esther Greenwood, discovers that undressing for her boyfriend is as uncomfortably exposing as “knowing . . . that a picture of you stark naked, both full view and side view, is going into the college gym files.” The practice of taking posture photographs was gradually abandoned by colleges, thanks in part to the rise of the women’s movement, which gave coeds a new language with which to express their discomfort. It might have been largely forgotten were it not for a 1995 article in the Times Magazine, which raised the alarming possibility that there still existed stashes of nude photographs of famous former students of the Ivy League and the Seven Sisters, such as George H. W. Bush, Bob Woodward, Meryl Streep, and Hillary Clinton. Many of the photographs in question were taken and held not by the institutions themselves but by the mid-century psychologist William Herbert Sheldon. Sheldon was best known for his later discredited theories of somatotypes, whereby he attributed personality characteristics to individuals based on whether their build was ectomorphic, endomorphic, or mesomorphic.

[...]

Today, the descendants of Jessie Bancroft are figures like Esther Gokhale, a Bay Area acupuncturist and the creator of the Gokhale Method, who teaches “primal posture” courses to tech executives and whose recommendations are consonant with other fitness trends, such as barefoot running and “paleo” eating, that romanticize an ancestral past as a remedy for the ills of the present. The compulsory mass surveillance that ended when universities ceased the practice of posture photography has been replaced by voluntary individual surveillance, with the likes of Rafi the giraffe and the Nekoze cat monitoring a user’s vulnerability to “tech neck,” a newly named complaint brought on by excessive use of the kind of devices profitably developed by those paleo-eating, barefoot-running, yoga-practicing executives. Meanwhile, Linker reports, paleoanthropologists quietly working in places other than TikTok have begun to revise the popular idea that our ancient ancestors did not get aches and pains in their backs. Analysis of fossilized spines has revealed degenerative changes suggesting that “the first upright hominids to roam the earth likely experienced back pain, or would have been predisposed to such a condition if they had lived long enough.” Slouching, far from being a disease of civilization, then, seems to be something we’ve been prone to for as long as we have stood on our own two feet.

#hps

[nicromancytarot]

DRAWING YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE’S APPEARANCE

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t charge for these readings, and I do not fake readings.

PICK A PILE READING

I asked my spirit guides what your future spouse looks like, I’ve drawn a VERY rough sketch for a man and a woman, pick a pile and find out which one is for you!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1

MALE

- Blonde hair

- Glasses

- Strong muscles (both body and face)

- Prominent Adam’s apple

- Blue eyes (first thing you notice, they could even sparkle a bit)

- Wavy hair

- Fair skin

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱

- Teacher / Professor

- Mathematician

- Secure in themself

- Into politics / debating

- Doctor / Nurse

- Scientist

- Public speaker

- Wealthy

- Uranus

- Aquarius

- Calves

- Vegetarian / Strict diet

INITIALS: N, H, S, E, M

FEMALE

- Blonde hair

- Blue (fish) eyes

- Glasses

- Nose piercing (hoop)

- Prominent cheekbones

- Fair skin

- Large bust (posible surgery)

- Small waist

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱

- Social media (influencer?)

- Hairdresser

- Slow talker

- Scientist

- Dancer

- Therapist

- Humanitarian worker / Advocate

- Artist

- Something wrong with one of their arms

- Folklore

- Cosplayer

INITIALS: B, A, P, F, E

PILE 2

MALE

- Dark skin

- Dark eyes

- Dark, short hair

- Wears a lot of caps (specifically blue)

- Skinny body

- Sad resting face

- Stubble

- Pretty smile

- Tall (6’ - 6’3)

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱

- Rich

- Large house

- British

- Small waist

- Enemies to lovers

- Hugger

- Into styling and fashion

- Chef

- Lawyer / Judge

- Chess

- Army

- CEO

- Producer

INITIALS: S, H, I, D, Z

FEMALE

- Dark skin

- Dark eyes

- Dark hair (wears a straight wig from time to time)

- Long face

- Pretty smile

- Prominent eyelashes

- Neat eyebrows

- Prominent collarbones

- Large bust

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱

- Rough past

- Farmer

- Humanitarian worker

- Estate agent

- Emotionally mature

- Carer

- breadwinner

- Protester

- Train conductor

- Likes to go on walks

- In charge

- Police / firefighter

INITIALS: G, R, S, N, T

PILE 3

MALE

- Fair - tan skin

- Light - dark brown hair (possibly ginger)

- Hazel or brown eyes

- Small lips

- Skinny body

- Wears a bandana

- Possible piercings

- Small eyebrows

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱

- School

- Part of the LGBTQ+ community

- Many jobs

- A texter

- Understanding

- Into science, possible scientist

- Mechanic

- Author

- Protester

- Football (soccer)

- May have cheated in the past (could do it again)

- Peanut allergy

- Office job

INTIALS: N, P E, R, S

FEMALE

- Fair - tan skin

- Brown or green eyes

- Light brown hair

- European

- Large eyes (Tim Burton)

- Large, dark eyebrows

- Tall (around 6’)

- Small lips

- Hooked nose

- Wears a bandana

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱

- Pain

- Possibly born prematurely, or could give birth to a premature baby

- Good with money

- Shy

- Rebellious

- Works in a place where she has to restore things

- Nut allergy (I screamed when I got this for both lmao)

- Possible black sheep of the family

- Contemporary

- Past life soul that owes their life to you in this one

- Strong

- Model

- Coach

- Gets sick a lot

INITIALS: W, A, M, K, T

#tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #free tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a pile

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, minor character deaths, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You browsed the shelves with a deep frown, the sounds of your friends’ laughter in your ears as they searched for their favorite snacks too. You guys were halfway to Florida, the excitement in the air contagious as you embarked on the road trip that had been in the works for almost a year. You could hear Wanda telling you to hurry up, something about making the process rocket science.

“Sorry,” you dragged out, joining her at the counter. “…but I think what snacks you choose for an hours long car ride is pretty important.”

“We’re literally going to eat right after this,” a familiar voice said from over your shoulder as MJ pulled up beside you. “…and shopping too.”

She grumbled that last part, and Wanda chuckled.

“The whole point of this trip is to have fun,” the redhead reminded her.

“In some small rinky dink backwoods town?” Michelle murmured. “They don’t even have a mall.”

The man working the counter gave her a look at that, and you nudged her with a look of your own. You definitely had similar thoughts of your own when Pietro stopped here, Wanda’s brother voicing his desire for something to eat. It certainly wouldn’t be your first choice, but it had its charm you could admit. Everyone seemed nice so far, and you were quick to scold Michelle when you made your way out of the gas station.

“Don’t be so snobby,” you told her. “Besides, we’ll be leaving in a few hours anyway.”

“Finally,” you heard Pietro groan as the three of you approached the car. “I was about to leave you.”

Wanda lightly pushed his head as she slid into the passenger seat, you and Michelle settling into the back. Driving from Maine to Washington to Florida sounded like an insane thing to do when it was first suggested, but the more you and Wanda had laughed about it, the less funny it became. Michelle pretended to need her arm twisted into going, but it was obvious that she was into it. Once Pietro offered to be the main driver, the plans were set.

“I was googling restaurants here while you three were taking your sweet time,” he said, pulling onto the road.

You watched Wanda snatch his phone, scrolling through what he’d pulled up.

“We should see the Statue of Athena when we get to Tennessee,” Michelle suggested, looking out of the window.

Pietro mumbled something unintelligible, but Wanda voiced her agreement. You were mostly quiet on the way to the restaurant, but it wasn’t a long drive. Michelle was right when she said the town was small, and the restaurant that was decided on took no time to get to.

It was a quaint place, nothing too extraordinary or even huge. There weren’t many cars in the parking lot, and the only notable vehicles were two police cars near the building. Wanda and Pietro were going back and forth about what the restaurant may or may not serve while Michelle slid some shades onto her eyes to block out the sun.

There was a bell above the door that rang when it opened, and you looked around the establishment as Wanda talked to one of the waitresses. As the woman led the four of you to a table, your gaze passed over four cops seated in the corner of the restaurant. You didn’t know if they were on break or officially done for the day, but if their table was anything to go by, they’d been eating here for a while.

When the waitress came back with menus and glasses of water, you asked her if there was a bathroom.

“Oh, sure, honey,” she sweetly told you, pointing towards a hallway over her shoulder. “Just through there.”

“Why didn’t you go at the gas station?” Wanda wondered as you stood.

“…because it was probably ten times more disgusting than this one could be.”

You told Michelle what you wanted to order just in case you weren’t back by the time the waitress returned to get orders. You hurried into the hallway, finding the bathroom with ease. There was only one, and you were relieved when your knock on the door was met with silence. Like you predicted, this bathroom was cleaner than you expected the one at the gas station to be.

You’d drank a lot of water since the last stop, and you didn’t even try to hold in your sigh of relief as you peed. Just as you were pulling your pants up, you heard a knock on the door, and you hurried to button them and wash your hands.

“I’ll be out in a second,” you called.

With one last look in the mirror, noting that car ride sleep was doing more wonders than sleeping in your own bed, you opened the door.

You were startled by the sight of one of the cops you’d seen earlier. You blinked at the sight of him, noting how boyish he looked up close. He seemed just as taken aback by you, although why, you didn’t know. You had the stray thought of wondering if he was even old enough to be a cop, and you shook it away. You knew guys from back who started making moves to be one the second they turned eighteen.

“Sorry,” you apologized for almost running into him. “It’s all yours.”

You sent him a polite smile, the smile dropping some when he didn’t really…move. A few seconds passed of him just looking at you, and after some time, he finally blinked himself, shaking his head. You noticed some strands of his dark hair move with the action.

“Sorry.”

Now, it was his turn to apologize.

“I shouldn’t have been standing that close,” he said, finally moving out of your way so you could walk out. “Enjoy your food.”

You sent him another polite smile at that, returning to the table. Pietro told you that they’d ordered when you sat back down, Michelle confirming that she’d ordered for you. When you made yourself comfortable in your seat, you glanced around again, your gaze catching an unfamiliar blue one. It was one of the cops at the table, a blond man with an intimidating build, and you quickly looked away.

“I kind of don’t want to skip North Carolina,” Wanda said, and both MJ and Pietro sighed.

You chuckled, already knowing why she wanted to go there.

“Outer Banks is just so far out of the way, Wanda,” you told her.

“Yes, but it’s a road trip,” she quietly whined. “The whole point is to see things and have fun. Besides, it’s not like we have a set date on when this is supposed to come to an end. It can end whenever we want, right?”

None of you had an argument for that, and she smiled, almost triumphantly.

“Okay, don’t get ahead of yourself. We all still have to agree,” Michelle said, but she couldn’t fight back her small smile.

“…but I’m driving,” the only man of the bunch spoke up, and Wanda flicked his arm.

“There are three of us and one of you. Hush before we put you in the trunk,” Wanda teased.

The waitress brought your food over before another word could get in, and you glanced up to thank her. As you did, your eyes passed over that same cop from earlier, the one you’d ran into outside of the bathroom. Your gazes briefly connected, and you had an odd reaction to it, a shudder traveling down your spine.

You frowned a bit as you gave your attention to your food. It wasn’t that weird, you guessed. It was a small restaurant after all, and aside from them and your friends, there were only about three other people in the building. It was probably your own bias to be honest. Men in positions of authority never bode well with you, and policemen were at the top of the list for a multitude of reasons.

You guys discussed the rest of your trip over your lunch, making a list of things you wanted to see. Pietro huffed at every third suggestion. When there came a point where you could feel yourself getting full, you peered around for the waitress. With no sign of her, you decided to just go to the counter and ask for some takeout boxes. What you presumed was the owner nodded at you.

“Yeah, give me one moment…”

When he walked away, you pulled out your phone to see if there actually was any place decent in town to shop at. Worst case scenario, you guys would wind up at a Walmart or something. Google was just pulling up some results when you felt a shift in the air, a shift at your side. You glanced over and was shocked to see that same cop from before next to you.

You didn’t acknowledge it outside of that, facing forward again just as he spoke.

“Hey, Nick! Bring some out for us too,” he called.

Your attention was drawn to your fingers on the counter, tapping them and drawing circles into the wood. You could feel the heat of a gaze on your face, and you thought that maybe you were imagining it until the man next to you spoke up.

“Are you and your friends new in town?”

You were startled by the question, by the act of him talking to you, and you looked at him just as he spoke again.

“…or just passing through?”

There was a small smile on his lips as he said that, the corners curving upwards ever so slightly.

“Just passing through,” you finally answered. “Road trip.”

He hummed with a nod, gaze passing over you.

“My buddies and I went on a small road trip a few years back. It was pretty fun.”

You gave a tight lipped chuckle at that, looking towards the kitchen and wondering what was taking the owner so long. You both felt and heard the cop move closer, and you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye just as he spoke again.

“Our town isn’t much, but there’s a few nice shops and boutiques around here,” he said, making you look at him in wonder.

“Oh?’

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out a pen and paper. “I’d hate for you to leave here with a bad impression.”

He chuckled, and you eventually joined in.

“We need you to come back. How else will we make any money?”

“Right,” you lightly said with a smile.

You took the list from him with a thanks, and he held it for a few seconds longer than necessary before finally letting go. You folded it up as he introduced himself.

“Peter,” he said, holding out his hand.

You hesitated, eyeing the appendage for some reason.

Peter seemed nice enough, maybe overly so, but again. That was probably just your own bias. Besides, even if he was a little strange to you, you would never see him again. You guys would be leaving in a few hours and heading further south. On the off chance that you did ever come back to visit, the chances of running into this same cop were low.

You gently shook his hand, introducing yourself too.

The owner finally returned then, bringing a bunch of carryout boxes with extra to keep at the counter. You took a few, thanking him and leaving the man Peter without another word. Your friends were in a discussion about Pietro’s ex-girlfriend when you returned. You told them about a list of shops in town as they packed up their food.

“That cop told me,” you told Wanda once she asked, walking outside. “The youngest one.”

You didn’t think of him again once you were in the car and driving down the street. Wanda was happy with the suggestions, finding at least two things at every shop. You and Michelle stopped for ice cream while Wanda went into some mom-and-pop pharmacy. Pietro was by the car and on his phone. While Michelle complimented the chocolate mint she got, you glanced up and caught sight of a cop car slowly passing by.

You only gave it a second glance when you recognized the cop in the passenger seat as the same blond from the restaurant. You frowned a bit, Michelle’s words fading to the background. You reminded yourself that it was a small town, and while the police department back home had hundreds of cops, the one here maybe had a total of fifteen. It was probably normal here to see the same cop several times in the same day.

You and Michelle met Wanda back in the car, Pietro telling you guys to get a move on. You were texting your mom, telling her you guys were on the road again as Pietro started the car. You loved her, but she worried too much, and while you didn’t mind placating her and keeping her up to date on where you were, it still made you roll your eyes.

After eating and walking around for a bit, you could feel yourself getting sleepy. It was to be expected. All of that combined with the smooth drive was really doing you in. Wanda and Michelle’s conversation became nothing more than a soft hum, and you were drifting more and more, but you knew Pietro hadn’t been driving long when you felt him starting to slow down.

You didn’t think a thing of it at first, not until you heard him curse anyway.

“What’s wrong?” Michelle wondered.

“The engine is cutting out,” you heard him say. “There’s…the gas. It’s gone.”

You opened your eyes at that, peeling them open just as the car came to a complete stop on the side of the road. You blinked, rubbing them and sitting up.

“What?” you heard Wanda say.

“Didn’t you just get gas?” you wondered.

“Yeah,” Pietro scoffed. “What the hell…?”

He tried to start the car a few more times with no luck, and only then was that when you started to get worried. When the twins got out of the car, you followed with a frown. Michelle poked her head out of the window as Pietro popped the hood.

“We had a full tank and then suddenly it just dropped,” he said from under the hood. “It has to be the fuel line…”

Wanda leaned against the car, and you pulled out your phone. You started texting your mom, and after a while of it not going through, you realized you must be on a bad stretch of road. You were holding your phone high as Pietro tried to figure out what was going on with the car. Wanda was trying to make a call too, and you’d just dropped your arm in frustration when the sound of a car reached your ears.

“Someone’s coming. Maybe we can get them to call someone or bring us some gas,” you suggested.

As the car appeared at the top of the hill, you realized it was a cop car. You weren’t sure if you should feel relieved about that, and you sank your teeth into your lip. Without even needing to flag them down, it started to slow, and you moved closer to the rental as it stopped right behind it.

You didn’t really know how to feel when a familiar face rose out of the passenger seat.

It was the same cop from the restaurant.

Peter.

The one who rose out of the driver’s seat was at the restaurant too. You remembered him, skin dark and hair cut low, and you wrung your hands together, frown deepening. You wondered how many coincidences became weird, became something that was no longer a coincidence.

“Hey,” Peter waved to you, that friendly smile on his pink lips.

You could feel your friends’ eyes on you, and you sent the cop a tight smile.

“Hi,” you nervously breathed.

“Car trouble?” he wondered, moving closer.

His partner lingered by the cop car…watching. You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling weird all of a sudden, and you glanced over your shoulder. Pietro was peering from around the hood, and Michelle had gotten out of the car, now.

“Yeah,” you finally answered. “We think it’s the engine or…something. One minute we had a near full tank of gas and then nothing.”

You shrugged as he neared the front of the car, peering under the hood. You glanced back at the other cop nervously, unable to help feeling like something was off. Peter didn’t remain under the hood for long, straightening and sending a nod to his partner. You heard the other man speak into his radio, and Wanda spoke up.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re just going to give you guys a ride back to town,” Peter said, and that didn’t relieve you.

“What about the car?” Michelle wondered.

“We’ll get someone to come and get and take it to a shop,” the other cop finally spoke up.

All four of you looked at each other. You still didn’t know what exactly was wrong with it, so it made sense to have it looked at, but this was definitely putting a dent in your plans. Not to mention how off this all still felt to you.

“There’s four of us,” you commented. “Honestly, if you could just call for a tow…”

“Well, that’s why I called for backup. That way we can give everyone a ride,” the other cop replied.

You looked to your friends, trying to gage how they felt about this. This just didn’t feel right to you, but you guys were stuck practically in the middle of nowhere with no gas and a faulty car with unknown reasons as to why. You didn’t want to be the one to disagree if everyone else was okay with it, but Wanda spoke before you could.

“Actually, I think we’ll just keep trying to call a tow.”

You could see another cop car coming over the hill, now, and you moved closer to Michelle. Peter, the only cop whose name you knew, was near you again, and he sent you what was meant to be a comforting smile, you were sure.

“It’s no trouble. Just let us drive you back to town and-.”

“Thanks, but we’re just going to decline,” you told him. “That’s nice of you though…”

You made to get back in the car when Peter stopped you. You were startled by the feel of his hand on your wrist, looking at him with wide eyes, and Pietro’s voice reached your ears.

“Hey,” he called, nearing you both. “We appreciate the offer, but we’d rather just call a tow truck, alright?”

He grabbed Peter’s arm, the action drawing his attention to Pietro, and you used the opportunity to stumble away. Peter looked at your friend with a gaze in his eye you couldn’t name, but it unnerved you, cementing that odd feeling you’d felt since they’d arrived. Peter didn’t look so boyish, now, so…nice. His dark eyes studied Pietro’s hand on him, and the other cop car had slowed to a stop, now.

“I could arrest you on assaulting an officer,” he quietly said, and your heart skipped a beat.

“You grabbed our friend first,” Michelle argued, the concern that you’d been feeling all along now reflected on her face.

“Pietro,” you said, reaching for him and trying to get him to back up.

He did, but you had a feeling that the offense was already done.

“He shouldn’t touch you like that,” he spat, and Wanda was now standing with you three.

You didn’t like the way Peter was looking at Wanda’s brother, and you looked over as the other officers got out of their car too. Your lips parted, chest clenching painfully as your eyes landed on that same blond-haired, blue-eyed cop from the restaurant. The brunette at his side had been there too, and you sharply inhaled.

Something was very wrong.

The blond was quickly approaching, speaking to Peter as if the four of you weren’t even there.

“What’s the problem?”

Peter spoke before any of you could.

“Car trouble. We tried to offer them a ride back to town, but their friend here thought it was okay to assault an officer.”

The way Peter spoke to the blond, it made it clear who was the higher up of the two, and you scoffed at the words leaving his mouth.

“That’s not true. You grabbed her and Pietro-.”

“Pietro, is it?” the blond cut Wanda off, approaching her brother. “You have the right to remain silent...”

“Wait,” Wanda cried. “This is insane, he barely touched him. Your buddy-.”

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney.”

You blinked in disbelief, unable to understand how some simple car trouble had escalated into Pietro getting arrested. While Wanda was trying to argue with the cop currently putting Pietro in handcuffs, you didn’t notice Peter moving closer to you until his hand was on your arm.

“We’ll drive the rest of you back to town…”

“No!” you pulled against his hand, shocked when he didn’t let go. “I don’t want to go anywhere. You can’t arrest him, he didn’t do anything!”

Panic filled you when Peter appeared to be stronger than he looked, practically dragging you away, and Michelle called out. It had gotten Wanda’s attention too, and they both ran over.

“Let go of her,” Michelle cried.

In all the commotion, you didn’t realize the other two cops had come over too. There was too much going on, and in the chaos, you found yourself tripping over your feet and out of Peter’s grip. Your chin knocked against the pavement, and you winced. You pushed yourself to your hands and knees, glancing up just in time to see that blond cop reach for his gun.

Your lips parted at the sight of Pietro pushing against him, unaware of what was about to happen.

You screamed his name just as the sound of the gunshot rang through the air, and you felt your skin grow cold at the sight of your best friend’s brother going…limp. Blood had never bothered you before, but in this context, it was the worst thing you’d ever seen. Wanda’s scream brought tears to your eyes, and you heard Peter curse.

“What the hell, Steve?” one of the other cops said, and their cavalier attitude about it had you stumbling to your feet.

The blond cop, Steve, finally spoke up.

“It was going to happen now or later, right?”

You looked at him, horrified, and you mindlessly reached for Michelle’s hand, but she batted it away. You looked at her, meeting her dark eyes as she seemed to have come to some conclusion you hadn’t yet. She looked disturbed, and she wouldn’t take her eyes off of you.

“Run,” she whispered.

Obviously, you guys were going to run, but her hand was pushing on your arm, pushing you away. Wanda was a screaming and crying mess, detained by the brunette who’d come with Steve, and more than you wanted to run, you wanted to hold her. What had just happened didn’t quite feel real, and you had a hard time convincing yourself that this wasn’t some awful nightmare you’d conjured up while falling asleep in the car.

Pietro was dead…and your eyes studied the way his blood crawled away from him. It made your stomach turn, and Steve’s next words took what little breath you had left.

“Peter…are you taking her or not?”

He sounded irritated, frustrated, and you slowly looked from him to Peter. His eyes met yours, and you took a step back as several things happened at once, too fast for you to comprehend, but just slow enough for you to witness.

The other cop, the brunette with hair that brushed his chin, took out his gun, and suddenly Wanda was just as dead as her brother. Steve was grabbing Pietro like he was nothing, the fourth cop was reaching for Michelle, and Peter was taking a step towards you. You didn’t even have time to react to it, Michelle grabbing your hand and taking off.

You couldn’t quite register that you were running, feet moving so fast and clumsily that it was a wonder you didn’t fall. Grass and twigs were scratching at your ankles and branches were snagging on your clothes. Witnessing the death of two of your friends wasn’t something you were able to process, too in disbelief, too in denial.

Michelle’s hand was tight in yours, and then it wasn’t.

You stumbled to a stop as she collapsed, your wide eyes falling to her frame. She was gasping and clutching her chest, a horrifying gurgling sound leaving her lips. Blood was soaking her shirt in a terrifying capacity, and when you fell to her knees beside her, her bloody hand pushed at you. Against your better judgement, you pressed your hand against her chest, but you knew it wouldn’t do any good.

Every cough coated her lips in more red, and you could hear the hurried footsteps approaching.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, and even though Michelle couldn’t speak, her dying action was to harshly shove you away. You glanced between her and the approaching cops, and feeling like your body was working on autopilot, you struggled to stand. It took you too long to take your eyes off of her, breaking out into a confused run.

You didn’t want to die, and you didn’t know why this was happening.

Michelle’s blood was on you, all of your friends were dead, and you were being chased through the woods by cops you had never even seen before today. Your vision blurred from your tears, and you felt like you weren’t getting air fast enough. You couldn’t hear anything else outside of your breathing, ears deaf to all other sounds.

You had never been particularly athletic, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins had your legs pushing farther than they ever had. Your mind couldn’t focus on anything beyond the sight of your dead friends, fear tightening your chest at the thought of ending up just like them. You thought you were running fast enough, but maybe it was silly to think you could outrun a cop who’d trained for things like this.

You hit the ground hard.

Truthfully, you didn’t even understand why you’d fallen at first. You’d just started flailing and screaming, and in the commotion, sometimes your hands or feet would connect with something. Or better yet, someone. Your nails broke skin, and you couldn’t tell what blood was MJ’s and what blood was…Peter’s.

“Hey, hey,” he gently said, trying to shush you, pressing his body against yours and trying to get his hand over your mouth. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You didn’t believe him. Why would you believe him? You couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t swallow down the heavy sobs that kept climbing out of your throat. Every swipe of your hand got more of Michelle’s blood on his face, and the visual made your stomach churn. You were pushing your arm against his throat as he reached down, and so sure that you were going to die, you were shocked by the feeling of being shocked.

The taser made you jerk, halting your movements long enough to allow Peter to grab your arms. Your body was still shaking some when he turned you on your stomach, and you squeezed your eyes shut, your breath moving dirt. You couldn’t stop crying even if you tried, and you wailed at both the feel and the sound of the handcuffs clicking into place.

“Sam,” you heard him call, his breathing just as heavy as yours.

Peter was sitting on your lower back, knees pressed into the dirt on either side of your waist. You felt him pull the back of your shirt down, a pinch making you wince, and you didn’t miss the way the hand that held your head down was massaging your scalp with its fingers. It was almost soothing, or maybe that was just from whatever was in the syringe.

Your body felt weighed down by more than just the grown man holding you down, and when he moved, starting to lift you, you confirmed that. You stumbled, vision tilting and spinning, and Peter leaned you against him. You could feel his arms holding you as your knees buckled, and you blinked up at him, your breathing shaky. The corners of your vision were going dark, and a few more tears escaped.

“I don’t want to die,” you heard yourself whisper.

You could make out his frown, the way his dark eyes ran over you. You shuddered at the feel of his fingers on your cheek, brushing a tear away, and you swallowed when he shook his head.

“You’re not going to.”

The stench of blood was the last thing any of your senses registered.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #dark!peter parker #dark!peter Parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #marvel #marvel fic #cop!au

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The surprising truth about data-driven dictatorships

Here’s the “dictator’s dilemma”: they want to block their country’s frustrated elites from mobilizing against them, so they censor public communications; but they also want to know what their people truly believe, so they can head off simmering resentments before they boil over into regime-toppling revolutions.

These two strategies are in tension: the more you censor, the less you know about the true feelings of your citizens and the easier it will be to miss serious problems until they spill over into the streets (think: the fall of the Berlin Wall or Tunisia before the Arab Spring). Dictators try to square this circle with things like private opinion polling or petition systems, but these capture a small slice of the potentially destabiziling moods circulating in the body politic.

Enter AI: back in 2018, Yuval Harari proposed that AI would supercharge dictatorships by mining and summarizing the public mood — as captured on social media — allowing dictators to tack into serious discontent and diffuse it before it erupted into unequenchable wildfire:

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2018/10/yuval-noah-harari-technology-tyranny/568330/

Harari wrote that “the desire to concentrate all information and power in one place may become [dictators] decisive advantage in the 21st century.” But other political scientists sharply disagreed. Last year, Henry Farrell, Jeremy Wallace and Abraham Newman published a thoroughgoing rebuttal to Harari in Foreign Affairs:

https://www.foreignaffairs.com/world/spirals-delusion-artificial-intelligence-decision-making

They argued that — like everyone who gets excited about AI, only to have their hopes dashed — dictators seeking to use AI to understand the public mood would run into serious training data bias problems. After all, people living under dictatorships know that spouting off about their discontent and desire for change is a risky business, so they will self-censor on social media. That’s true even if a person isn’t afraid of retaliation: if you know that using certain words or phrases in a post will get it autoblocked by a censorbot, what’s the point of trying to use those words?

The phrase “Garbage In, Garbage Out” dates back to 1957. That’s how long we’ve known that a computer that operates on bad data will barf up bad conclusions. But this is a very inconvenient truth for AI weirdos: having given up on manually assembling training data based on careful human judgment with multiple review steps, the AI industry “pivoted” to mass ingestion of scraped data from the whole internet.

But adding more unreliable data to an unreliable dataset doesn’t improve its reliability. GIGO is the iron law of computing, and you can’t repeal it by shoveling more garbage into the top of the training funnel:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/05/29/garbage-in-garbage-out-machine-learning-has-not-repealed-the-iron-law-of-computer-science/

When it comes to “AI” that’s used for decision support — that is, when an algorithm tells humans what to do and they do it — then you get something worse than Garbage In, Garbage Out — you get Garbage In, Garbage Out, Garbage Back In Again. That’s when the AI spits out something wrong, and then another AI sucks up that wrong conclusion and uses it to generate more conclusions.

To see this in action, consider the deeply flawed predictive policing systems that cities around the world rely on. These systems suck up crime data from the cops, then predict where crime is going to be, and send cops to those “hotspots” to do things like throw Black kids up against a wall and make them turn out their pockets, or pull over drivers and search their cars after pretending to have smelled cannabis.

The problem here is that “crime the police detected” isn’t the same as “crime.” You only find crime where you look for it. For example, there are far more incidents of domestic abuse reported in apartment buildings than in fully detached homes. That’s not because apartment dwellers are more likely to be wife-beaters: it’s because domestic abuse is most often reported by a neighbor who hears it through the walls.

So if your cops practice racially biased policing (I know, this is hard to imagine, but stay with me /s), then the crime they detect will already be a function of bias. If you only ever throw Black kids up against a wall and turn out their pockets, then every knife and dime-bag you find in someone’s pockets will come from some Black kid the cops decided to harass.

That’s life without AI. But now let’s throw in predictive policing: feed your “knives found in pockets” data to an algorithm and ask it to predict where there are more knives in pockets, and it will send you back to that Black neighborhood and tell you do throw even more Black kids up against a wall and search their pockets. The more you do this, the more knives you’ll find, and the more you’ll go back and do it again.

This is what Patrick Ball from the Human Rights Data Analysis Group calls “empiricism washing”: take a biased procedure and feed it to an algorithm, and then you get to go and do more biased procedures, and whenever anyone accuses you of bias, you can insist that you’re just following an empirical conclusion of a neutral algorithm, because “math can’t be racist.”

HRDAG has done excellent work on this, finding a natural experiment that makes the problem of GIGOGBI crystal clear. The National Survey On Drug Use and Health produces the gold standard snapshot of drug use in America. Kristian Lum and William Isaac took Oakland’s drug arrest data from 2010 and asked Predpol, a leading predictive policing product, to predict where Oakland’s 2011 drug use would take place.

[Image ID: (a) Number of drug arrests made by Oakland police department, 2010. (1) West Oakland, (2) International Boulevard. (b) Estimated number of drug users, based on 2011 National Survey on Drug Use and Health]

Then, they compared those predictions to the outcomes of the 2011 survey, which shows where actual drug use took place. The two maps couldn’t be more different:

https://rss.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/j.1740-9713.2016.00960.x

Predpol told cops to go and look for drug use in a predominantly Black, working class neighborhood. Meanwhile the NSDUH survey showed the actual drug use took place all over Oakland, with a higher concentration in the Berkeley-neighboring student neighborhood.

What’s even more vivid is what happens when you simulate running Predpol on the new arrest data that would be generated by cops following its recommendations. If the cops went to that Black neighborhood and found more drugs there and told Predpol about it, the recommendation gets stronger and more confident.

In other words, GIGOGBI is a system for concentrating bias. Even trace amounts of bias in the original training data get refined and magnified when they are output though a decision support system that directs humans to go an act on that output. Algorithms are to bias what centrifuges are to radioactive ore: a way to turn minute amounts of bias into pluripotent, indestructible toxic waste.

There’s a great name for an AI that’s trained on an AI’s output, courtesy of Jathan Sadowski: “Habsburg AI.”

And that brings me back to the Dictator’s Dilemma. If your citizens are self-censoring in order to avoid retaliation or algorithmic shadowbanning, then the AI you train on their posts in order to find out what they’re really thinking will steer you in the opposite direction, so you make bad policies that make people angrier and destabilize things more.

Or at least, that was Farrell(et al)’s theory. And for many years, that’s where the debate over AI and dictatorship has stalled: theory vs theory. But now, there’s some empirical data on this, thanks to the “The Digital Dictator’s Dilemma,” a new paper from UCSD PhD candidate Eddie Yang:

https://www.eddieyang.net/research/DDD.pdf

Yang figured out a way to test these dueling hypotheses. He got 10 million Chinese social media posts from the start of the pandemic, before companies like Weibo were required to censor certain pandemic-related posts as politically sensitive. Yang treats these posts as a robust snapshot of public opinion: because there was no censorship of pandemic-related chatter, Chinese users were free to post anything they wanted without having to self-censor for fear of retaliation or deletion.

Next, Yang acquired the censorship model used by a real Chinese social media company to decide which posts should be blocked. Using this, he was able to determine which of the posts in the original set would be censored today in China.

That means that Yang knows that the “real” sentiment in the Chinese social media snapshot is, and what Chinese authorities would believe it to be if Chinese users were self-censoring all the posts that would be flagged by censorware today.

From here, Yang was able to play with the knobs, and determine how “preference-falsification” (when users lie about their feelings) and self-censorship would give a dictatorship a misleading view of public sentiment. What he finds is that the more repressive a regime is — the more people are incentivized to falsify or censor their views — the worse the system gets at uncovering the true public mood.

What’s more, adding additional (bad) data to the system doesn’t fix this “missing data” problem. GIGO remains an iron law of computing in this context, too.

But it gets better (or worse, I guess): Yang models a “crisis” scenario in which users stop self-censoring and start articulating their true views (because they’ve run out of fucks to give). This is the most dangerous moment for a dictator, and depending on the dictatorship handles it, they either get another decade or rule, or they wake up with guillotines on their lawns.

But “crisis” is where AI performs the worst. Trained on the “status quo” data where users are continuously self-censoring and preference-falsifying, AI has no clue how to handle the unvarnished truth. Both its recommendations about what to censor and its summaries of public sentiment are the least accurate when crisis erupts.

But here’s an interesting wrinkle: Yang scraped a bunch of Chinese users’ posts from Twitter — which the Chinese government doesn’t get to censor (yet) or spy on (yet) — and fed them to the model. He hypothesized that when Chinese users post to American social media, they don’t self-censor or preference-falsify, so this data should help the model improve its accuracy.

He was right — the model got significantly better once it ingested data from Twitter than when it was working solely from Weibo posts. And Yang notes that dictatorships all over the world are widely understood to be scraping western/northern social media.

But even though Twitter data improved the model’s accuracy, it was still wildly inaccurate, compared to the same model trained on a full set of un-self-censored, un-falsified data. GIGO is not an option, it’s the law (of computing).

Writing about the study on Crooked Timber, Farrell notes that as the world fills up with “garbage and noise” (he invokes Philip K Dick’s delighted coinage “gubbish”), “approximately correct knowledge becomes the scarce and valuable resource.”

https://crookedtimber.org/2023/07/25/51610/

This “probably approximately correct knowledge” comes from humans, not LLMs or AI, and so “the social applications of machine learning in non-authoritarian societies are just as parasitic on these forms of human knowledge production as authoritarian governments.”

The Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers’ Workshop summer fundraiser is almost over! I am an alum, instructor and volunteer board member for this nonprofit workshop whose alums include Octavia Butler, Kim Stanley Robinson, Bruce Sterling, Nalo Hopkinson, Kameron Hurley, Nnedi Okorafor, Lucius Shepard, and Ted Chiang! Your donations will help us subsidize tuition for students, making Clarion — and sf/f — more accessible for all kinds of writers.

Libro.fm is the indie-bookstore-friendly, DRM-free audiobook alternative to Audible, the Amazon-owned monopolist that locks every book you buy to Amazon forever. When you buy a book on Libro, they share some of the purchase price with a local indie bookstore of your choosing (Libro is the best partner I have in selling my own DRM-free audiobooks!). As of today, Libro is even better, because it’s available in five new territories and currencies: Canada, the UK, the EU, Australia and New Zealand!

[Image ID: An altered image of the Nuremberg rally, with ranked lines of soldiers facing a towering figure in a many-ribboned soldier's coat. He wears a high-peaked cap with a microchip in place of insignia. His head has been replaced with the menacing red eye of HAL9000 from Stanley Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey.' The sky behind him is filled with a 'code waterfall' from 'The Matrix.']

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

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

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Raimond Spekking (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Acer_Extensa_5220_-_Columbia_MB_06236-1N_-_Intel_Celeron_M_530_-_SLA2G_-_in_Socket_479-5029.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

 — 

Russian Airborne Troops (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Vladislav_Achalov_at_the_Airborne_Troops_Day_in_Moscow_%E2%80%93_August_2,_2008.jpg

“Soldiers of Russia” Cultural Center (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Col._Leonid_Khabarov_in_an_everyday_service_uniform.JPG

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

#pluralistic #habsburg ai #self censorship #henry farrell #digital dictatorships #machine learning #dictator's dilemma #eddie yang #preference falsification #political science #training bias #scholarship #spirals of delusion #algorithmic bias #ml #Fully automated data driven authoritarianism #authoritarianism #gigo #garbage in garbage out garbage back in #gigogbi #yuval noah harari #gubbish #pkd #philip k dick #phildickian

[hedgehog-moss]

In other news, this week a French publisher on his way to the London Book Fair was arrested by British counter-terrorist police to be questioned about his participation in protests in France.

A French publisher has been arrested on terror charges in London after being questioned by UK police about participating in anti-government protests in France.

Moret arrived at St Pancras [...] with his colleague Stella Magliani-Belkacem, the editorial director at the Paris-based publishing house, to be confronted by the two officers. [...] He was questioned for six hours and then arrested for alleged obstruction in refusing to disclose the passcodes to his phone and computer. [...] He was transferred to a police station in Islington, north London, where he remained in custody on Tuesday. He was later released on bail.

Éditions la Fabrique is known for publishing radical left authors. Moret also represents the French science fiction novelist Alain Damasio and had arranged more than 40 appointments at the London book fair. [...]

[Quoting publishing house’s press release] “The police officers claimed that Ernest had participated in demonstrations in France as a justification for this act – a quite remarkably inappropriate statement for a British police officer to make, and which seems to clearly indicate complicity between French and British authorities on this matter.” [...] “There’s been an increasingly repressive approach by the French government to the demonstrations, both in terms of police violence, but also in terms of a security clampdown.”

(Guardian link - BBC link) (article in French)

The publishing house (here’s their latest statement in French) and the publisher’s lawyer mention that the British police asked him “Do you support Emmanuel Macron? Did you attend protests against the pension reform?” and he was also asked to name the authors with anti-government views that his employer has published. They add, “Asking the representative of a publishing house, in the framework of counter-terrorism, about the opinions of his authors, is pushing even further the logic of political censorship and repression of dissenting thought. In a context of social protests and authoritarian escalation on the part of the French government, this aspect [of the questioning] is chilling.”

Being an accomplice to thoughtcrime by publishing dissident authors gets you treated like an international terrorist now... The publisher’s lawyer suggests that French authorities asked the UK to help them get their hands on the publisher’s contacts in the radical left sphere. But on the face of it, we’ve got: Exercise your right to protest your government in France -> get arrested by counter-terrorist UK police in London. That’s literally the reason he was given for being greeted by police at the train station...

#frpol #i bought a couple of books from la fabrique this morning... win-win i actually meant to read them and didn't know they were #published by them #in slightly better news @french people if you haven't seen some video excerpts of macron meeting alsatians today it's worth checking out #people telling him how corrupt his gov is; someone saying ''you're going to fall; mark my words'' and someone else #''we don't want your reform you arsehole'' and people chanting 'macron resign' as he walks away looking a bit pissed... #and naturally protests were banned in the cities he visited today and cops had cleared the area of actual protesters #before macron arrived so the people he met were actually the less angry people

[artfulacrostic]

had my second high definition viewing of atsv in the theater today and here are my favorite details that i missed due to being overwhelmed on my first viewing:

LONG AF POST:

-gwen is literally wearing a rainbow shaped trans pride pin on her jacket with her prom outfit. she's soooo so canon trans <3

-captain stacy HAS A TRANS FLAG PATCH ON HIS POLICE UNIFORM JACKET?????? when i'm telling u my eyes popped out of my head 😳 SHES SO CANON TRANS!!!

-poster outside miles's guidance counselor's office reads: "visions sciences: telling you your story".

-parallel of miles's and gwen's dad kicking things out of general exasperation towards the beginning and end of the movie respectively

-when miles as spidey is talking to his dad and giving him advice (for himself) there's a reference to miles possibly reading vonnegut? (maybe in class??) "if this isn't nice what is" is a collection of kurt vonnegut's commencement speeches. (literally subtitled "advice to the young". the writers were extremely clever for this reference. if not reading it in class, miles has been searching up life advice on his own)

-i barely caught this but i'm PRETTY sure that in miles' room near his door there's a MICHELLE OBAMA presidential race sticker??? was president obama in the earth-1610 dimension michelle obama?? iconic if so

-fedex on earth-1610 is REDEX

-gayatri seems like they took elements of both gwen (police dad) and mj (young model) for her background as i believe i caught her visible on a "zomato" ad billboard (which appears to be the earth-50101 version of ubereats)

-i spent all of hobie's scenes trying to pick up the details of his many pins; but the only one that i could really make out with the quick shot changes besides the union jack pin was the one right above it, which is a three-leaf clover. i wondered if maybe it had some kind of significance to maybe irish independence or smth but i couldn't find anything online that backed that up so not sure what it means. if u know pls drop it in the replies.

-hobie's boots are definitely NOT ladder laced. i KNOW there is concept art and poster art of him with ladder laces but in the actual movie they are 100% crossed. also unlike the poster art, both boots have blue laces, not one blue, one yellow/orange. i wanted to be all on board the ladder lace code train but i'm pretty sure they just made his laces blue so that they could contrast against the red boots and be spidey colors. they probably abandoned the ladder lace part of the visual when someone realized what blue ladder laces meant in lace code. "HAS hobie killed a cop," you ask? given his comic backstory i'd say the odds are HIGH. but i would bet they didn't want people to think that since he's gone through canon event asm-90 ("a police captain close to spider-man is killed by falling rubble during a battle with a nemesis") that there's any possibility THAT was the cop he killed and he's proud of it (since it's supposed to be all abt character development from the ✨trauma✨ of the event)

-during the whole "intervention" scene, while all the other spider-people are facing directly in towards miles and miguel from wherever they are standing in the circle, hobie is the only one whose back is turned. he watches most of the scene over his shoulder. also, during a couple shots facing miles before the entire society of spiders show up, hobie is separated in the shot from all the other main spiders (Peter B, Gwen, Jess, etc) BY MILES. he is visible over one shoulder and everybody else is visible over the other. these two details are great signals of hobie having already MORALLY turned his back on miguel's authoritarianism, as well as giving a nice inverted "devil/angel on the shoulders" nod.

-peter b asks miguel to take a picture of him and mayday since it's her first chase; miguel brushes him off but mayday understands and uses her webshooter to click the camera button on peter b's phone and take a selfie without him noticing 😂😂😂 shes everything to me

-when miguel is pinning miles to the train, after gwen and peter b have caught up, there is a very fast moment when miles calls for help ("PETER!!") and peter doesn't reply to him, but calls out to miguel to calm down (smth like that) instead 🥲 peter for the love of god step up your mentor game and look out for this kid i can't handle it anymore

-when gwen takes the watch hobie made her out of the box, the screen is briefly visible and reads "project botleg". bootleg -> bot -> "botleg"; I SEE YOU HOBIE. people think he's so cool (and he is!!) but he's also just as much of a dork as all the other spiders. what a goofball

-in miles-42's room, a speed bag/speed ball/maize ball is attached to his wall near the door. there are other substantial differences to their rooms, but i think this is clearly a reference to uncle aaron-42's large presence in miles-42's life, given the association from both movies of aaron with the punching bag and miles getting guidance from him/looking to him for support.

-in addition to all the miles-1610 vs miles-42 prowler vs spidey reflection imagery in the end credits, guess who else has several moments of flashing from spider-man colors (red and black at least) to prowler colors (purple and green)?? miguel, that's who. miguel and miles-42/uncle aaron-42 team-up in beyond the spiderverse? or just an extra parallel for the antagonists sharing goals/possibly methods?

OKAY ANYWAY if ppl want i can try and dig up images of some of these but i figured that would make this post long af so that's all for now folks!! go see across the spider verse again and marvel at how much more fine detail you find like me 🕸🕸🕸

#across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #atsv #miles morales #gwen stacy #miguel o'hara #hobie brown #peter b parker #mayday parker #captain stacy #jefferson morales #gayatri singh #aaron davis #the prowler #earth 1610 #earth 42 #earth 50101 #trans gwen stacy #this movie is driving me fucking NUTS bro #they are so so so insane for all of this #i can't wait for it to come out on dvd and blu-ray so i can pause it and pick through it more slowly #i'm sure there are SO MANY more things no one has picked up yet #also i tried to only include stuff in this list that i haven't really seen other people talk about #or that i noticed additional details to if i had heard someone reference it #r speaks #r tags

[acrknowyou]

More Steampunk AU!

I had a bit of a story going with this too...

______

Deku is a young and promising engineer, he was formed and trained by All Might who also built his mechanic arm. It incorporates one of All Might's greatest inventions and only he and Deku know about it.

Deku grew up in the lower city with Katsuki, living as little thieves but also learning the basics of mechanics and working under the protection of Aizawa. When they were 13 they got caught in a big clash of two rival groups that caused the explosion of a building. This is where Deku lost his right arm, while trying to get Katsuki to escape and out of the way. On that occasion they part and both believe the other one is dead. All Might rescues him and decides to keep him as his apprentice, seeing great potential in doing work for good.

This is how Deku makes it to the upper city and he starts working in All Might’s mechanic’s shop, where he learns to build ships and other devices and also makes it in UA Academy of Science, thanks to his teacher’s name. He tells people to call him Deku, so no one in the upper city really knows his full name except for All Might and Katsuki.

Katsuki is an engineer too and a pirate.

He was the one finding and rescuing Deku when they were 8 and they stayed side by side until the explosion.

After the explosion he manages to escape and reunite with the gang he and Deku were already part of, but for his safety, Aizawa sends him far from the city with Best Jeanist who teaches him a lot of the job of the engineer and also makes him part of the crew of his pirate ship.

Since the accident Katsuki believes Deku is dead, and grows resentful of who caused this to happen and guilty for the fact that Deku was trying to save him when it all happened.

When he is a bit older, he builds his own ship and forms his little crew with which he flies around and starts to build his own name as a very skilled thief. It’s not his real life goal, he wishes to be the greatest engineer of all time, like All Might, and to change the world with his inventions. But a man has to eat so that’s how he makes money while also creating incredible devices and stuff.

One day he almost gets caught by the authorities. They are flying too close to the upper city and the ship gets targeted and shot down, but they manage to land it safely and temporarily hide it. The repairs are too big for just him and the bunch of non mechanics of his crew, and if they want to take off before it is found by the police they need some others to help. One of Katsuki’s contacts gives him Deku’s name and at first, he is absolutely shocked and has to stop himself from beating the other guy for daring to say that name.

Katsuki is conflicted as it feels like this could be an ambush, even though he can't understand how anyone might have gathered such personal information about him. Deku is something he has kept very much a secret about his past. Anyway he decides to go see for himself if this guy is legit or if it’s some sort of sick joke.

When he reaches the mechanic’s shop, the person he finds is most definitely not-so-little-anymore Deku. They reunite with a clash, very much grown and different from where they left each other, and absolutely emotionally constipated.

#bkdk #bakudeku #bnha #mha #steampunk au #story time

[madamepestilence]

2024 US Election Information

We have roughly 1 year until the 2024 US election. I've put in some research, and here are my conclusions.

TLDR for those of you who don't have time or focus: Cornel West (Democratic Socialist running as People's Party -> Green Party) is the ideal candidate to vote for - normally I wouldn't advocate voting third party, but we may actually have a shot for once, and he has excellent policies. Jill Stein (Green Party) is a potential backup, though if West drops out, our best option for Democratic party is Marianne Williamson.

Please spread this information, especially to residents of Texas, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Arizona, Wisconsin, and Nevada. Detailed information under the cut.

Current Fascist and Republican Candidates

Donald Trump, Nikki Haley, Vivek Ramaswamy, Asa Hutchinson, Tim Scott, Ron DeSantis, Chris Christie, Ryan Binkley, and Doug Burgum.

I'm not going to entertain their details, but I will note that the information I picked up while being exposed to alt-right communities from the inside via my fascist parents earlier this year shows strong evidence that Republicans are likely going to split between Donald Trump, Ron DeSantis (viewed as a betrayal by Trump supporters), and openly fascist Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. (I'll cover him later).

My guess is a 6/3/1 Republican vote split between Trump/DeSantis/Kennedy, Jr..

Current Democratic Candidates

Joe Biden, Marianne Williamson, and Dean Philips.

Biden has overall failed to complete the majority of his campaign promises, and has been directly supporting Israel during the genocide of Palestine, as well as deferring to Republicans to be "bipartisan" (I don't think I have to stress enough that a bipartisan democrat is not a democrat) - do not vote for him.

Williamson is a high-school educated 71-year-old author from Los Angeles, California. She is known for being Oprah Winfrey's, "spiritual advisor," (double red flag), and dropped out during the 2020 election (another red flag).

While she supports the reinstatement of Roe v. Wade, the decriminalization of cannabis and psychedelic drugs, the reduction of CO2, and moving to 100% renewable energy by 2035, her advocacy for the outright banning of assault and semi-assault weapons for civilians without military reform of the same is a slight red flag when combined with her relationship with Oprah Winfrey (an Obama supporter, the president who authorized quite a lot of drone strikes in West Asia) and drop-out makes her not a great candidate.

Philips is a Bachelor's (Brown University) and Master's Business (University of Minnesota) educated 54-year-old three-term congressman who is noted for criticizing Biden running for a second term on account of both political moderacy and medical concerns.

Philips unfortunately wants to increase police funding for some reason, but advocated for better training, including mental health training. He also advocates for what he calls, "comprehensive immigration reform," in the form of increased border security and streamlining legal entry (this ignores the problem outlined by the UN that people seeking asylum are likely to have to enter a country illegally before they can seek support), and the only real good stance he has is giving reproductive rights to patients, rather than politicians.

Philips is essentially a moderate Republican, and is a bad candidate. Do not vote for him.

Current Independent Candidates

Fascist (not his stated political stance, but it's what he is)

Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. is a fascist that has openly quoted Nazi propaganda in his political campaigns, is an anti-vaccine activist, and has spread anti-science conspiracy theories such as vaccines causing autism and the non-existence of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic. I cannot stress this enough, do not fucking vote for Kennedy, Jr.

Democratic Socialist

Cornel West is a Bachelor's (Harvard University), Master's, and Ph.D. (both Princeton University) educated 70-year-old progressive activist that switched his running party from the People's Party to the Green Party, despite being a both public- and self-described democratic socialist.

When asked why he wasn't running as a Democrat against Biden, he stated that, "Neither party is speaking to the pressing needs of poor and working people."

His party plans are a wealth tax on the rich, a national $27 minimum wage, a federal Universal Basic Income, 6 months of paid family leave, a 4-day work week, national free Pre-K childcare, "Immediate cessation of all oil and gas leasing projects on federal lands and waters," "Federal moratorium on fracking, carbon capture, and direct air capture technologies, geoengineering, and other false climate solutions," putting abortion rights in the Constitution, and nationalized healthcare.

Here's where I want to lay out something important. I normally wouldn't advocate for voting for a third party candidate due to the Spoiler Effect, but

Considering the United States' Democratic majority, popular vote records showing a common Republican minority, the absolutely incredible policies West stands for,

The growing support for third parties in the United States, and his policies aligning with public opinion,

Cornel West is the ideal candidate to vote for. Spread this information like wildfire - we may have one shot at the first third party win in US history in the upcoming 2024 election, and

If successful the dominant parties will be Fascist vs. Socialist, denying most, if not all, future Republican wins.

Our target toss-up states are Pennsylvania, Georgia, Arizona, Wisconsin, and Nevada.

Converting Texas to third party, or even just Democrat, will throw the Republican vote entirely and all but guarantee a Democrat, or hopefully third party, 2024 election win,

Which is absolutely possible, as Texas is majority Democrat and wins Republican votes via gerrymandering despite public opinion, which is why it swings occasionally.

Democrat states also need to be switched to majority third party votes, with particular emphasis on California, New York, and Illinois.

GET PEOPLE TO VOTE FOR CORNEL WEST!

Reference map of polling for the future 2024 election:

Libertarian (slightly Conservative to alt-right, really depends on the person)

Chase Oliver is a surprisingly progressive high school educated 38-year-old anti-war Libertarian that left the Democratic party after witnessing Obama's aggressive anti-West Asian war policies who has expressed desires for criminal justice reform and ending wars abroad, though hasn't elaborated on either.

Green Party

Jill Stein is a Bachelor's (Harvard University) and Medical (Harvard Medical University) 73-year-old Jewish doctor who previously ran for and represented the Green-Rainbow Party as the governor of Massachusetts.

Stein is notable for being an activist and protestor who has both protested outside buildings and testified before legislative and other government bodies against coal plants, mercury leaks, and unclean and unsafe groundwater.

Presumably, her stances will focus on environmental protections, trans rights, and Jewish protections, making her a potential alternative should West drop out.

Conclusions:

Again, don't fucking vote for Trump, Haley, Ramaswamy, Hutchinson, Scott, DeSantis, Christie, Binkley, Burgum, Biden, Philips, or Kennedy, Jr..

Our potential backup Democratic candidate is Williamson.

The ideal candidate is West, with Stein as a viable backup.

As absurd as it sounds, I want you to vote third party for Cornel West.

If you want a wealth tax on the rich, a national $27 minimum wage, a federal Universal Basic Income,

6 months of paid family leave, a 4-day work week, national free Pre-K childcare,

"Immediate cessation of all oil and gas leasing projects on federal lands and waters," "Federal moratorium on fracking, carbon capture, and direct air capture technologies, geoengineering, and other false climate solutions,"

putting abortion rights in the Constitution, and nationalized healthcare,

VOTE FOR CORNEL WEST AND GET OTHER PEOPLE TO DO THE SAME.

WE HAVE A CHANCE AT THE FIRST THIRD PARTY WIN IN THE UNITED STATES AND THE DENIAL OF FUTURE REPUBLICAN WINS.

#2024 elections #democrats #democracy #president biden #cornel west #jill stein #marianne williamson #politics #pennsylvania #georgia #arizona #wisconsin #nevada #texas #california #new york #illinois #democratic socialism #socialism #socialist #communism #communist #lgbt #lgbtq #trans #transfem

[ranger-ribbons]

More General Rangers Headcanons

Sixth Rangers are inherently more powerful than the regular Rangers. You'll notice that most can 1v1 difficult enemies that prove challenging to even the Reds of the team (ie.: Zhane (In Space Silver) 1v1'ing Ecliptor). This is because, on a power scale, the Sixth is supposed to balance the team out. A team that can work as individuals and an individual that can work on/with a team

Reds develop an attachment to their Sixth Rangers, be it romantic (Carter Grayson/Ryan Mitchell) or platonic (Leo and Mike Corbett), but it's close and quickly formed

Similarly, Sixth Rangers form quick and close attachments to their Reds, platonic or romantic

Pinks and Blues are either siblings or best friends and there is no in-between

Survivor's Guilt is a powerful force and 90% of the Rangers have it, especially the alien Rangers or those like the Lunar Wolf Wildforce Ranger

Rangers getting discouraged and believing themselves unworthy of the Power is also common, so there's a network of Rangers you can call to help with that kind of stuff

If you don't already have fantastic spatial awareness, you develop it pretty quick as a Ranger. It's damn near impossible not to because of all the attacks by Monsters, Bugs, etc

Red Rangers can give orders to their teams and the Power will give little pushes for the other Rangers to following it, but that doesn't mean the other Rangers can't refuse of their own volition

The Morphin' Grid affords its Rangers a form of immortality. They can be fatally injured, but otherwise, Rangers are effectively immortal

Some Rangers go on to become police officers, but most Rangers agree that working to assist and help people (ie.: lifeguards, doctors, breaking ground in the science fields) is best. Some of them establish dojos to train people to protect themselves (Tommy Oliver) and others work with volunteer efforts (Troy Burrows)

Veteran Rangers, Reds especially, tend to hang back during crossover events- this is to give the new Reds the confidence in themselves and their abilities, and allow them to grow into their leadership. The only exception was Forever Red, because Jason is a little bit of a control freak. He's the oldest Red, it's his right

When a Ranger is in a battle that forces them into demorph (i.e.: Gia, Jake, and Noah (Megaforce) against Creepox) the other teammates will be supremely worried and clingy, this is because of a trauma bond each team shares, but also because seeing someone you love get so hurt in a battle that they lose their ability to hold their morphs is fucking terrifying.

On that note, other Ranger teams will check in after those battles because seeing your successors get demorphed in the middle of battle is also something terrifying

Also on that note, some Rangers have specific nightmares in which they don't make it out of those demorph fights alive

The TMNT do on occasion pop out of the New York sewers to assist in a battle or two with the Ranger teams

Rangers who have martial arts skills (Ninja Storm, Jungle Fury, Samurai, Ninja Steel, etc) stick together, much like Rangers who are from or went to space

The techs of the teams have secret channels that they use to make "communication devices" (cell phones) so that Rangers don't have to rely on their morphers to communicate as well as being able to communicate with other Rangers and teams

Bulk and Skull have been linked so tightly with the Rangers that they've been kidnapped several times, only to be let go when it's been clear they aren't Rangers themselves

Junior Rangers have a chat, kids that helped Rangers (Heather, Jordon, etc.) have linked up and compared notes. They know of or know each other and most of them are tightly linked together

Possibility of more later, I didn't expect more than one post lol

#power rangers #mighty morphin power rangers #power rangers zeo #power rangers turbo #power rangers in space #power rangers lost galaxy #power rangers lightspeed rescue #power rangers time force #power rangers wild force #power rangers ninja storm #power rangers dino thunder #power rangers spd #power rangers mystic force #power rangers operation overdrive #power rangers jungle fury #power rangers rpm #power rangers samurai #power rangers megaforce #power rangers dino charge #power rangers ninja steel #power rangers beast morphers #power rangers dino fury #headcanons #thoughts and headcanons #thoughts and rambles #mad makes

[philcoulsonismyhero]

There's a lot of lines in Amongst Our Weapons that make me want to wave my arms around and yell incoherently about Peter and Nightingale and how far they've come and how much they mean to each other, but right now the one I want to yell about the most is this one from right at the end:

Image text: 'The wider the base, the greater the stability of the building,' said Nightingale. 'You taught me that.'

Because, like. Peter wanted to be an architect. The thing he always wanted to do was to build things. And look what he's built! He hasn't just rebuilt the Folly as it was, he's built something modern and completely new out of its constituent parts and he's done it by caring about people and being interested in how things work and by what Beverly jokingly calls 'compulsive networking'.

And everything he's done for the Folly, he's done for Nightingale on a personal level too.

Nightingale was So isolated when Peter first met him. His police colleagues didn't want much to do with him, his social circle seemed to consist of Molly and Dr Walid and not much more, he was completely out of touch with the modern world. And to his credit, he was the one who decided to take on an apprentice, but that was pretty much all he was planning to do. Train up a replacement for himself in case he got killed, pass on the Forms and Wisdoms properly, keep the status quo going.

But he chose Peter, and suddenly he's got an apprentice who wants to study the science behind magic and modernise the Folly's record keeping and work out better ways to liaise with other police and fundamentally Make Changes. Nightingale ends up with all these connections through Peter, to Beverley and the other Thames girls, to Lesley, to Abigail, eventually to the rest of Peter's family, to other police like Guleed and Stephanopoulos and unfortunately for him Seawoll... He has people he can rely on, and who choose to rely on him, and not just for magic -I especially love how Peter's mum eventually starts using him to babysit Peter's dad, and the fact that he helps Abigail's family with her brother. He's not alone anymore, and he goes from just living to genuinely thriving.

And it's all down to Peter, and what the two of them have built together. In fact, they've built something so significant that in a few years Nightingale isn't going to be necessary anymore. He's been Britain's Last Official Wizard for seventy years, all the weight of that tradition resting on his shoulders alone, and in a handful of years Peter has helped him to build something that'll be able to take the weight instead if he wants it to. There are people who can help do everything he's been doing alone and more, so finally he can think about what he actually wants for himself. (And don't even get me started on his arc re: teaching and discovering that it's what he wants to do for the rest of his life, I Will start yelling even more.)

And it's Peter who's taught him to let other people take the weight. That you can build something stable and lasting if you're willing to share the load. The wider the base, the greater the stability of the building.

Not bad for a wannabe architect who can't draw, huh?

#rivers of london #peter grant #thomas nightingale #amongst our weapons #once again I am deeply emotionally compromised by that book and those two #and like. the fact that peter's architecture thing comes off as just a fun character quirk #but then you think about it and it's kind of Fundamental to the themes of the whole series #which is about Building #building connections building systems building Better Things #and our protagonist is a guy who couldn't be an architect #and his mentor is a guy who slowly realises just how much he wants to be a teacher #Waving My Arms Around And Yelling #wizard nonsense tag

[evangelinesbible]

NEPTUNE PERSONA CHART MC

ShawtyAstrology on twitter posted this really cool observation. (If you don’t already follow her on twitter and TikTok do it! She’s amazing and has lovely hair)

So now I’m going to go through all the sign/degrees AND MC lord

Aries/1H/1°, 13°, 25°

A career in sports, self employment, business ownership, personal training, piloting, engineering and/or directing

Taurus/2H/2°, 14°, 26°

A career in fashion, modeling, music, singing, design, cooking, decor and/or nature

Gemini/3H/3°, 15°, 27°

A career in communication, therapy, public speaking, journalism, social media, and/or book writing

Cancer/4H/4°, 16°, 28°

A career in teaching, nursing, veterinary, family counseling, social working, art, and/or cooking

Leo/5H/5°, 17°, 29°

A career in entertainment, acting, comedy, music, performance arts, and/or childrens media

Virgo/6H/ 6°, 18°

A career in doctoring, farming, life coaching, personal training, producing, and/or criminology

Libra/7H/ 7°, 19°

A career in law, couples therapy, fashion, modeling, politics, and/or party/event planning

Scorpio/8H/ 8°, 20°

A career in astronomy, criminology, law, investments, police, military, banking, and/or psychology

Sagittarius/9H/ 9°, 21°

A career in teaching, philosophy, language, religion, science, and/or traveling

Capricorn/10H/ 10°, 22°

A career in business, corporate, banking, stocks, doctoring, and/or management

Aquarius/11H/ 11°, 23°

A career in electricity/technology, stocks, online, neurology, language, and/or science

Pisces/ 12H/ 12°, 24°

A career in physiology, astrology, music, teaching, creative writing, photography/cinematography, and/or spirituality

Mine is Taurus 29° MC lord 5H

What’s yours?

#astrology #astro observations #astro placements #astro notes #astrology notes #aries #pisces #capricorn #taurus #cancer #Neptune persona chart #Neptune #persona chart

[petrolstationflowers]

Up to your neck in true crime and feel you can really get into why burglars keep stealing your toilet? Then perhaps the Criminal Psychologist career is for you! This was another request from Catrillion and I had to do a fair bit of digging to make sure this one was accurate.

This job is available for YA - Elder, and you can join via the Police Station. Please note you will need University installed as one of the requirements is the Science skill!

No opportunities or books.

If you want to use this, you must have Nraas Careers installed for it to show up!

There are three custom tones to level your skills:

Build a Rapport (Logic) Write Your Report (Writing) Study Previous Cases (Science)

Coworker tones are the same, and skill tones and uniforms appear from level four. The carpool doesn't appear until level three -- you're a poor postgrad, after all!

Levels under here:

Positive Postgraduate - 10 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 17:00, M-F Description - It’s been a long road to graduation – plenty of sleepless nights watching true crime documentaries and making flash cards for exams, because Watcher forbid you muddle up the Hansford Prison Experiment and the Toto Doll study. You’ve decided you want to jump right in and get an internship, but where to start? Better start cozying up to your professors and making some phone calls! Enthusiasic Intern - 15 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F Description - After laying on the praise and asking very nicely, you’ve managed to secure an internship for the year. The pay is nothing special and the hours are long, but you’re learning a lot, working at the local police station, accompanying jail, and the mental health unit over at Sunset Valley General. You’ll be profiling offenders and writing out risk assessments for those living with Unstable personalities, writing recommendations to make the prison nicer and holding therapy sessions. Better hope they’ve got good coffee! Criminal Psychologist In Training - 30 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F Description - If you thought you escaped the classroom, think again. Sure, you’re finally getting to put your skills to use, but while you’re still helping out at the precinct, you’re also trying to put together where your skills lie. Would you be best working at HMS Sunset Valley, overseeing prisoner rehabilitation, or in the interview room at the police station working on a report for Sunset Valley Plumbbob Court? Best find a quiet spot in the legal library and do some studying – oh, and your manager wants those reports by the end of the day.

Junior Criminal Psychologist - 40 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - You’re not quite working in the big leagues yet, but you’re getting there. You’ve been assigned to the psychiatric unit, triaging those who have been sent your way and helping out with various studies being conducted around the facility. You are, however, getting to sit in on diagnostic intakes and occasionally are being trusted to write up your own. Hopefully if you format the reports nicely enough, you’ll be allowed to steer the ship yourself.

Clinical Researcher - 70 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - Now you’ve found your feet, you’ve been assigned to work on a clinical research program. Sure, it’s only a contract job, but you’re learning about kleptomania and why certain sims are compelled to steal street lights. Lots of note taking, interviewing people, and staring at graphs until the numbers blur, but when you finally see patterns and correlations, it’ll all be worth it!

Treatment Psychologist - 80 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - The data about street lights proved fruitful, and the local government have decided that the results are valuable enough to be put into practice. Sunset Valley General has set up a specific ward for those suffering from kleptomania, and you’ll be setting up therapeutic workshops and treatment programs to try and cut down on their thievery. It’ll take time, patience, and empathy – luckily, you’ve got those in spades.

Psychologist - 100 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 15:00, M-F

Description - Out on your own now, with an office and everything! No longer chained to a hospital or a ugly precinct storage room, you’re free to pursue topics that interest you and studies that make your brain light up. It’s back to assessing and evaluating patients, setting up group studies and making recommendations for them to take a long holiday to Barnacle Bay for the sake of their health. The hours are shorter and pay is better – maybe you’re finally at the top?

Senior Psychologist - 120 simoleans p/h, 10:00 - 17:00, M-F

Description - Business is booming, but there’s something missing; counselling snobby sims through their affluenza or prescribing pills for cowards who can’t stop running away from Bonehilda isn’t as fulfilling as it used to be. You’ve been keeping an eye on local job postings and there’s one that’s caught your eye; something about working with the police force to uncover exactly how their minds work. Perhaps it’s time to spruce up your CV…

Investigator in Training - 150 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - You’re back to long hours and endless studying, but this one is paid well and comes with lots of benefits; namely, finally getting to study some of SimNation’s most intriguing criminals up close. You’re not being turned loose quite yet, so for the moment you’ll need to shadow your fellow officers and write up dictated reports on just why you think the Tricou family died and who had the motive to arrange Bella Goth’s disappearance. Keep your nose to the grindstone and soon you’ll be free of hours long recordings and into the interrogation rooms yourself.

Criminal Investigator - 200 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, T,W,U

Description - That work has paid off and you’re finally where you wanted to be – sitting across the table from some of the most dangerous people in SimNation. When Circe Beaker has been hauled in for illegal experimentation and Roderick Synapse has finally been arrested for kidnap, it’s your job to sit down with them and pick apart their alibis. You’ll need to walk the fine line between professional and friendly, keep a cool head when you’re hearing the horrors, and be able to put together everything you’ve learned in a well written report – best get the coffee ready.

Translations: I've included the English Strings in the file; if anyone is talented enough to translate, I would be incredibly grateful, so please let me know in the comments!

With thanks: To MissyHissy's career building tutorial!

#ts3 #ts3cc #the sims 3 #sims 3 custom content #the sims custom job #the sims 3 custom career #criminal psychologist #psychology

[traegorn]

I found this at a local thrift store. Are you familiar with it? Is it any good?

Never read it, so I don't have a full informed opinion on it... but...

While the title's clever, the five minutes I spent looking up the authors led me to this on Shawn Robbins's Amazon bio:

Shawn Robbins, Bestselling Author/Psychic and Paranormal Researcher has been ranked one of the top ten psychics in the world. She was a special consultant for the New York City Police Department, (murder and white collar crime cases) United States Navy, (psychic spying) and numerous leading corporations. She is an expert in the field of mystical, spiritual and holistic sciences, having lectured extensively on these subjects throughout her career. Shawn was one of the original psychics in the CIA Stargate program trained to spy on the Russian Government. Her code name was Madame Zodiac.

So she's "ranked one of the top ten psychics in the world." By who, Shawn. By who. Citation fuckin' needed there, ma'am.

Also she's claiming to have been a part of the Stargate Project, which was declassified because it didn't work and the studies have been famously invalidated. And, like, do you really want to brag about being associated with a program that also fell for Uri Geller's baloney? The project famously documented in the book (and subsequent film) The Men Who Stare at Goats?

That Stargate Project?

I'm just... my jaw's on the floor. Nevermind that I think "psychics" who insert themselves into murder investigations are fuckin' gross as shit. I forgot all about that when I got to the second paragraph.

So yeah... some red flags on this one.

#witchblr #witchcraft #witch #wicca #Shawn Robbins

[lotus-flower-writes-history]

The Unofficial Black History Book

Huey P. Newton (1942-1989)

'The Revolution has always been in the hands of the young. The young always inherit the revolution.' - Huey Newton

This is his story.

Huey Percy Newton was born on February 17th, 1942, in Monroe, Louisiana. The youngest of seven children to Armelia Johnson and Walter Newton, he was named after former Governor of Louisiana, Huey Long.

His family relocated to Oakland, California, in search of better economic opportunities in 1945. His family struggled financially and frequently relocated, but he never went hungry or homeless.

Growing up in Oakland, Newton recalled his white teachers making him feel ashamed for being African-American, despite never being taught anything useful. In his Autobiography, ‘Revolutionary Suicide’, he wrote – “Was made to feel ashamed of being black. During those long years in Oakland Public Schools, I did not have one teacher who taught me anything relevant to my own life or experience. Not one instructor ever awoke in me a desire to learn more or to question or to explore the worlds of literature, science, and history. All they did was try to rob me of the sense of my own uniqueness and worth, and in the process nearly killed my urge to inquire.” 

He also had a troubled childhood; he was arrested several times as a teenager for gun possession and vandalism.

Huey was illiterate when he graduated from high school, but he taught himself to read and write by studying poetry before enrolling at Merritt College. 

During his time there, he supported himself by breaking into homes in Oakland and Berkeley Hills and committing other minor offenses. He also attended Oakland College and San Francisco Law School, ostensibly to improve his criminal skills.

He joined Pi Beta Sigma Fraternity while still a student at Merritt College and met Bobby Seale, a political activist and engineer. Huey also fought for curriculum diversification, the hiring of more black instructors, and involvement in local political activities in the Bay Area. 

In addition, he was exposed to a rising tide of Black Nationalism and briefly joined the Afro-American Association, where he studied Frantz Fanon, Che Guevara, Mao Zedong, E. Franklin Frazier, James Baldwin, Karl Marx, and Vladimir Lenin.

Huey had adopted a Marxist/Leninist viewpoint in which he saw the black community as an internal colony ruled by outside forces such as white businessmen, City Hall, and the police. In October 1966, he and Bobby Seale founded The Black Panther Party for self-defense, believing that the black working class needed to seize control of the institutions that most affected their community.

It was a coin toss that resulted in Newton becoming defense minister and Seale becoming chairman of the Black Panther Party. Newton’s job as the Minister of Defense and main leader of the Black Panther Party was to write in the Ten-Point Program, the founding document of the Party, and he demanded that blacks need the “Power to determine the destiny of our Black Community”. It would allow blacks to gain “Land, bread, housing, education, clothing, justice, and peace.”

The Panthers took advantage of a California law allowing people to carry non-concealed weapons and established armed patrols that monitored police activity in the Black Community. 

One of the main points of focus for the Black Panther Party was the right to self-defense. Newton believed and preached that sometimes violence, or even the threat of violence, is required to achieve one's goals. 

Members of the Black Panther Party once stormed the California Legislature while fully armed in order to protest the outcome of a gun bill.

Newton also established the Free Breakfast for Children Program, martial arts training for teenagers, and educational programs for children from low-income families. 

The Black Panthers believed that in the Black struggle for justice, violence or the potential for violence may be necessary.

 The Black Panthers had chapters in several major cities and over 2,000 members. Members became involved in several shoot-outs after being harassed by police.

On October 28, 1967, the Panthers and the police exchanged gunfire in Oakland. Huey was injured in the crossfire, and while recovering in the hospital, he was charged with killing an Oakland police officer, John Frey. 

He was convicted of voluntary manslaughter the following year.

Huey was regarded as a political prisoner, and the Panthers organized a 'Free Huey' campaign led by Panther Party Minister Eldridge Cleaver. And Charles R. Geary, a well-known attorney who was in charge of Newton’s legal defense.

Newton was found guilty of voluntary manslaughter in 1968 and sentenced to 2-15 years in prison. However, the California Appellate Court ordered a new trial in May 1970. The conviction was reversed on appeal, the case was dismissed by the California Supreme Court, and Huey was acquitted.

Huey renounced political violence after being released from prison. Over a six-year period, 24 Black Panther members were killed in gunfights with the police. Another member, George Jackson, was killed in August 1971 while serving time in San Quentin Prison.

The Black Panther Party, under the leadership of Newton, gained international support. This was most evident in 1970 when Newton was invited to visit China. Large crowds greeted him enthusiastically, holding copies of "Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-tung," as well as signs supporting the Panther Party and criticizing US imperialism.

In the early 1970s, Newton's leadership of the Black Panther Party contributed to its demise. He oversaw a number of purges of Party members, the most famous of which was in 1971 when he expelled Eldridge Cleaver in what became known as the Newton-Cleaver split over the party's primary function.

Newton wanted the party to be solely focused on serving African-American communities, whereas Cleaver believed the party should be focused on developing relationships with international revolutionary movements. The schism resulted in violence between the factions and the deaths of several Black Panther members. The Black Guerrilla Family (BGF) was one of several factions that had broken away from the main party.

Then, in 1974, Newton was accused of assaulting a 17-year-old prostitute named Kathleen Smith, who later died, raising the charge to murder. Instead of facing trial, Huey fled to Cuba with his girlfriend at the time, where he remained for three years. The key witness in the trial was Crystal Gray. And three Black Panther members attempted to assassinate her before she gave her testimony.

Huey returned to the States in 1976 to stand trial but denied any involvement. The jury was deadlocked, and Newton was eventually acquitted after two mistrials.

In 1978, he enrolled in the History of Consciousness program at the University of California, Santa Cruz, and earned his Doctorate in 1980.

"War Against the Panthers: A Study of Repression in America," his dissertation, was later turned into a book.

On charges of embezzling Panther Party funds, Huey P. Newton was sentenced to 6 months in prison followed by 18 months on probation in 1982.

On August 22, 1989, Newton was assassinated by a member of the BGF, named Tyrone Robinson.

Huey was 46 years old at the time of his assassination. Robinson was convicted of Huey’s murder in 1991 and sentenced to 32 years to life in prison. 

His wife, Fredricka Newton, carried on his legacy. 'Revolutionary Suicide,' his autobiography, was first published in 1973 and then republished in 1995.

Huey Newton was not perfect, but he did fight to protect the rights of the Black Community. The rights that we're still fighting for today.

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