#How to start trading in stock marketing

[indexandstocktradingacademy]

Unlocking the Stock Market: A Beginners Guide to Investing in India

Introduction: The Indian Stock Market — Where Beginners Can Grow Wealth

Investing in the stock market can be a game-changer for your financial future. However, the world of stocks and shares can seem overwhelming, especially for beginners. India’s stock market, with its vast potential and ever-evolving dynamics, offers a range of opportunities for new investors. But where do you start?

In this beginner’s guide, we’ll take you through the essentials of investing in the Indian stock market and explain how Index and Stock Trading Academy can help you unlock your financial potential with expert guidance and structured learning.

1: What is the Stock Market and Why Should You Invest?

The stock market is a platform where shares of publicly listed companies are traded. Investors buy shares in companies with the goal of earning profits through dividends or by selling the shares at a higher price in the future.

Why invest in stocks?

Wealth creation: Over time, the stock market has proven to generate higher returns than other forms of investment like fixed deposits or savings accounts.

Ownership in companies: When you invest in a company’s shares, you become a part-owner, participating in its growth.

Liquidity: Stocks can be easily bought and sold, providing flexibility for investors.

For beginners, the stock market is a great place to start building wealth, but it’s essential to understand the risks involved and approach it with a strategic mindset.

2: How to Start Investing in the Indian Stock Market

Starting your investment journey is easier than you think. Here’s a simple step-by-step process to get you started:

Open a Demat and Trading Account

To buy or sell shares in India, you need to open a Demat account (to hold your shares) and a trading account (to execute trades).

Choose the Right Stocks

Start by researching companies in industries you’re familiar with. Focus on large-cap companies with strong financial histories, as they are generally more stable.

Learn Basic Trading Strategies

For beginners, it’s important to understand key strategies such as buy and hold and dollar-cost averaging. These techniques reduce risk and maximize long-term gains.

Monitor the Market

Staying updated with the market trends, news, and performance of your stocks is crucial to making informed decisions.

3: Benefits of Stock Market Training with Index and Stock Trading Academy

While the basics of stock market investing can be self-taught, professional training can accelerate your learning and help you avoid common mistakes.

At Index and Stock Trading Academy, we offer tailored courses that cater to both beginners and experienced traders. Here’s how we can help:

Beginner Stock Trading Courses: Our beginner courses cover everything from opening your first trading account to understanding market trends and executing your first trade.

Advanced Trading Techniques: For those looking to take their skills to the next level, we offer advanced training in strategies like Futures & Options (F&O) and intraday trading.

Expert Guidance: Learn from industry veterans who offer real-time insights and practical strategies to navigate the Indian stock market confidently.

Located near key areas like Balewadi, Baner, Pashan, Aundh, Wakad, Mahalunge, Hinjewadi, Ravet, Kothrud, and Bavdhan, our academy is the perfect destination for aspiring traders in Pune.

4: The Importance of Trading Strategies

Once you’ve understood the basics of stock trading, the next step is to master trading strategies. This is where beginners often struggle, but learning from professionals at Index and Stock Trading Academy can help you succeed.

Some common beginner-friendly strategies include:

Buy and Hold Strategy: This involves buying shares and holding them for the long term, allowing them to appreciate over time.

Dividend Investing: Focusing on stocks that pay regular dividends can provide a steady income stream while also growing your capital.

Risk Management: Learning how to set stop-loss orders and diversify your portfolio to minimize risk.

Mastering these strategies will give you the edge you need to become a confident, successful investor.

Conclusion: Start Your Investment Journey Today

Investing in the stock market doesn’t have to be intimidating. With the right knowledge, guidance, and trading strategies, anyone can start building wealth and securing their financial future.

Whether you’re just starting out or looking to refine your skills, Index and Stock Trading Academy offers the perfect blend of education and mentorship to help you succeed in the Indian stock market. Sign up for our beginner stock trading course today and take the first step toward unlocking your financial success!

6. Style/Tone:

The tone will be conversational yet professional, aimed at making beginners feel comfortable with the complexities of the stock market. It will offer practical advice while subtly promoting Index and Stock Trading Academy as the go-to resource for learning stock market strategies.

7. Call-to-Action (CTA):

Ready to unlock the secrets of the stock market? Enroll in our beginner stock trading course at Index and Stock Trading Academy and gain the knowledge and skills needed to navigate the Indian stock market with confidence. Visit www.indexandstocktradingacademy.com to learn more, or contact us at 7709643909 to get started!

8. Target Audience:

Stock market beginners who want to start investing.

Young professionals eager to build wealth through smart investments.

Small business owners looking for new investment opportunities.

9. Who is the Blog For?

This blog is tailored for individuals who are:

New to stock trading and looking to understand the basics of investing.

Curious about the Indian stock market and how it works.

Seeking to learn simple yet effective investment strategies to grow their wealth.

Whether you’re a fresh graduate or a small business owner, this blog will guide you through the initial steps of investing in India’s stock market.

10. Purpose/Goal:

The primary goal of this blog is to educate beginners on how to invest in the Indian stock market. It aims to simplify the process, debunk myths, and introduce readers to professional training options like Index and Stock Trading Academy.

Key Takeaway: By the end of the blog, readers will have a solid understanding of the basics of stock market investing and will feel confident to start their journey or join a professional course to advance their skills.

[mifymeenakshi]

To start trading online, you need a demat and trading account. To open a demat and trading account you just need to register with any online stockbroker in India, complete your KYC and fill in basic details, deposit funds, and you will be ready to trade in the share market.

[billa-billa007]

How to Day Trade Futures l From Zero to $1010

Day trading is a trading strategy where individuals buy and sell financial assets within the same trading day, attempting to profit from short-term price fluctuations. Day traders typically focus on liquid markets like stocks, currencies (forex), futures, or cryptocurrencies.

[ranjith11]

Trading was HARD until I understood these 4 TRADING RULES that changed my LIFE!

In this week’s video, I am thrilled to share my personal journey and reveal the 4 life-changing rules that completely transformed my day trading experience. If you've struggled with day trading before, fret no more. These rules hold the key to unlocking success in the dynamic world of day trading!

[monicascot]

How to Day Trade Futures l From Zero to $1525

Learn the art of day trading futures and take your journey from zero to $1525 with expert guidance. This comprehensive course equips beginners with the essential skills and knowledge needed to thrive in the fast-paced world of futures trading. Discover proven strategies, risk management techniques, and market insights that will empower you to make profitable trades confidently. Join this transformative program and let the keyword highlight, "Day Trade Futures," become your gateway to financial success and independence. Start your trading journey today and unlock the potential for lucrative gains in the futures market.

[rpcapitals]

The Most Common Share Market Investment Mistakes to Avoid 2023

The Most Common Share Market Investment Mistakes to Avoid 2023. Investing in the stock market can be a rewarding experience, but it’s important to avoid making common mistakes that can cost you money. In this article, we will discuss the most common share market investment mistakes to avoid.Investing in the stock market can be a great way to build wealth over the long term, but it’s important to…

[celestialtarot11]

what can indicate someone making a lot of money in their career?

Signs for making 💰

Sag sun—always working multiple jobs, having multiple interests. May be into stocks, trading, engineering, software engineering, marketing. May be into tourism.

Capricorn venus, Capricorn moon—Always working and grinding. Networks easily. But I notice with these placements they may go on to start a side job earlier than getting a full time job. That full time job may come later depending on aspects to the moon. Has a superseding reputation for their determination and professionalism.

For example capricorn moon aspecting saturn has had jobs come in later to their life. May not have had their first job until 20 and onward. They may have been working on a side hustle the entire time.

Jupiter 1h, Jupiter 10h—Success follows these individuals. Career opportunities opened themselves up to them. The more the native works on their mindset they become a manifesting success story! Though don’t be fooled these individuals have had to work on themselves immensely.

Venus asp jupiter—Cash flows in. Though with this placement the native can spend just as easily and create just as much as they lost. (Trine, sextile, conj.)

Venus 5h—makes money off of doing what they love! Most definitely has a side hustle alongside their job.

Aquarius, sun moon, rising—also can be known for their unique side hustles. May be into designing clothes of their own, making music, but there’s something so fleshed out and distinct about their side hustle people are attracted to. May have a blog, make music,

Gemini venus, sun, moon—very multifaceted in their skills. Almost everywhere and nowhere at once with how busy they are. Paired with Leo: they may have a high position in their community and attract a lot of people. It creates the perfect audience for them to sell to! May crochet or sell handmade items!

Leo sun, rising—Has a knack for presenting themselves in any community. Does well with meeting new people to gain new opportunities and experiences. Likable energy. Most likely to own a vlog, or a blog where they can talk and share their stories. Makes money off of being themselves. Very hardworking individuals and determined!

Scorpio rising—Works in silence, keeps their success limited to people who celebrate it. Highly successful, looked up to, and is intelligent with their finances. Knows how to save. They are a fixed sign so once they see something in their mind they will not stop until they manifest success!

Capricorn/saturn dom—knowing how to budget and is successful because of their ability to save money. Not just their job!

Libra moon/rising—May work in a job requiring long travels, be in a position where income is higher. They’re beauty and brains. Some men are construction workers with this placement and make a hell of a lot of money. If moon is in the 12h they’re more likely to travel long distances. Can become models, nurses, doctors.

Cancer 10h, libra moon, libra venus—Can work in home renovation, be a real estate agent. Makes a ton of money off of bringing in clients. If they have aspects to mercury, gemini, exalted mercury, they can talk anyone into buying a home or service.

Libra moon—may also know someone who offers them a higher paying job.

Saturn 3h—Very skilled individuals. Disciplined and goal oriented. Slow and steady wins the race. Takes their time to learn new skills in their career thus making them knowledgeable. Whereas their coworkers tend to gloss over—no these individuals tend to stay late hours and put in more effort. Had a huge chance of being recognized and moving up in their position.

Taurus 2h—Check where venus is placed. If making an aspect to jupiter, moon, the native can become financially successful. (Trine, sextile, conj)

Jupiter 2h—Controversial perspective but a lot of these natives feel as though they have enough money to get by. It just somehow comes in when they need it. Same for sag ruling 2h.

Virgo mercury, virgo 2h—Can be concerned with spending habits and analyze them. May budget a lot and try different methods for saving. Has a critical eye for finances. May make a monthly spreadsheet! Can be into nursing as well.

Venus 10h—If the benefic is positively aspected it’ll bring lots of success to the natives career. Chance to become widely known for their work. Their charm and interpersonal skills leas to success.

Aries sun—Competitive in the career field. Sun is exalted here so these natives truly want to be the best they can be. Authoritative, determined in their work. Grinds a lot. Similar to Capricorn but more extroverted. Passionate, enthusiastic, and it drives them to make great connections in their career.

Sun 6h—Brilliant ideas, determined and structured. Puts in energy to their work. Day to day activities yield long term results. Their determination is what really gets them there. Has a great relationship with their coworkers and bosses if positively aspected.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - sex doll au, implied dub/con, unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, and generally depraved behavior.

You're starting to wonder if you should've gotten a different pair.

You knew what you were getting into when you decided that, of all the androids in Teyvat's stock, you were going to be one of the few brave souls that dared to put two members of the Akademiya Collection that weren't Tighnari and Cyno under the same roof. The salesperson had cringed as you made your selection, your more tech-savvy friends pursed their lips and asked if that was really for the best, and you couldn't mention your specific preferences on any public message board without being berated off the platform entirely. You didn't care, thought. The heart wants what it wants, and apparently, your heart wanted two burnt-out post-grads to rail you into next week.

That's what you told yourself until you got Alhaitham and Kaveh home, at least.

The bickering, you were prepared for. You weren't surprised by the constant passive-aggression, the subtle pokes at Alhaitham's arrogance and Kaveh's bleeding heart, and you managed to stomach it the first time your dreams of a multi-major threesome were dashed because Kaveh mentioned some ancient philosophical principle and Alhaitham couldn't resist the opportunity to correct his wording and you were left bouncing yourself on Alhaitham's cock while he dispassionately flipped through a textbook you haven't opened since you were an under-grad. Minor hiccups, nothing you couldn't forget about when Kaveh buried his face between your thighs or Alhaitham split you open on his fingers while reading your latest research paper aloud, denying you an orgasm for every grammatical error. That part, you wouldn't trade for the world.

The jealousy, though - you could live without that. You've heard that there's supposed to be fail-safes for this kind of thing, measures the developers take to make sure any companion droids can co-exist without tearing each other apart, but their mutual distaste seems strong enough to overwhelm whatever barriers their creators put in place. You've lost count of the number of times there's been a false-alarm in some other part of your apartment while you're on your knees at Alhaitham's feet, how many times Alhaitham's flawless hardware has suddenly 'malfunctioned' while Kaveh has your ankles propped on his shoulders.

Not getting laid, you can deal with, but it's a little hard to be so forgiving when Kaveh spends the better half a day pouting because you took Alhaitham to work and left him at home, when Alhaitham deletes your registered commands from his memory bank because you had the nerve to take Kaveh to a farmer's market that that he'd rather die than step foot in. You've tried to be fair, to divide your time evenly, but they're not happy with that, either. Neither of them would ever say it out loud, but it's clear enough that they both want to be the center of your attention. It'd be cute, if they weren't so spiteful.

The only thing worse than their jealousy is when they put aside their spitefulness, their petty arguments, and decide to agree on the only thing they can ever agree on: that their beloved 'master' should be the one to make up for all those hours of neglect. It's a little like your fantasies, but not quite; your chest pressed against Alhaitham's Kaveh's chin resting on your shoulder, the former inside of you while the latter whispers sweet-nothings against the curve of your throat. It's more violent than anything you ever would've expected from two men so scholarly, more aggressive - teeth buried in your skin, bruises in the shape of their palm painted across your thighs, fingers forcing their way past your lips whenever you so much as consider using your safe-word. You're left strung-out for hours after they're done with you, and Kaveh's free to press himself against your side while Alhaitham tries to pass himself off as the caretaker he so clearly isn't. It's the only time they don't waste their breath on bickering. It's the only time they ever get along.

It's the only time you don't have the strength to focus on anything but your two precious, precious androids.

[0hcicero]

So I just started reading A Court of Thorns and Roses (audiobook), and am I the only one who is wondering if the author did any research into poor subsistence living or the lives of peasants? Because wow, I know Feyre’s family used to be rich, but if that was 8 years ago and y’all are poor as dirt now, somehow in the intervening period you might have learned:

- trap lines in the winter are far superior to active hunting. It burns less calories, you can use it with fish and land animals, and it will save you from frostbite bc instead of sitting in a blind for hours, you can go to your lines at certain times and head home, or drive animals toward your lines.

- buying flower seeds - or any garden seeds - is a suckers game when you’re poor. You only really need to buy seeds once!! Once you harvest, you let stuff ‘go to seed’ and then you collect it and store it for the winter, often trading seeds with your neighbours.

- they let things actively RUN OUT before doing anything about it. That’s absolutely buckwild if you’ve ever been poor — when you’re poor, you know how to make a meal stretch, and you DO IT.

- there is hunting, but no gathering?? This family has not stored any veg for winter, but neither do they go gather mushrooms, rosehips, roots, tubers, nuts, or even fucking bark?? What happened to their cottage garden?? Was it just flowers?! Were they that rich that they don’t understand that a garden produces food? Did they close their eyes as they walked past all their peasant neighbours and their gardens? Bc that’s maybe the wildest thing I’ve seen from both a historical and a ‘grew up so close to dirt poor you couldn’t tell the difference’ perspective!

- She left a whole ass Giant wolf carcass when her family is starving. Nah nah nah no that is the universe smiling on you when you’re subsistence! You will make a travois or somehow find a way to tie that to you and drag it along - that’s double the food, and possibly more money, because you could live off the wolf (which I assume does not taste great) and sell off some of the deer (which is delicious).

- she didn’t at least do a basic clean of her kill out in the woods?! She did not tan the hides?! Y’all, you do not want to be cleaning any kill on the kitchen table. Why? Because cleaning involves removing the intestines and stomach. That means shit and piss and food digestion in different stages, and the gases produced. You do that *outside*, typically at least close to where you made your kill, because you don’t want to have to have any…spills, and because it makes things a bit lighter to carry. Butchering? For sure do it on a table, but cleaning is an outdoor chore. Also, tanning a hide is not just skinning a creature! It’s scraping all the membranes off it, stretching and drying it, and curing the skin - sometimes with smoke, but often with a pretty gross solution (often including brain oil, and historically, I believe urine and/or feces, and other things with the right chemical components). It’s not a simple or quick task!

- soups, pottages, stews, with dried lentils, beans, or peas would have been the staple meals (depending on the climate and environment, but it feels fairly British thus far). Just having roasted venison (def not the best way to eat venison just from taste alone) would likely be a very very rare occurrence, because, as noted earlier, they’re so poor they would need to make it stretch. You would cure it or dry it or turn it into sausage. You would use it sparingly within a meal, not to serve as the whole meal.

- the market. If you were poor, you would likely be a stranger to spices, but not to salt. Salt is deeply necessary to survive in that period, as it’s one of the only ways of safely processing and storing meat with any longevity. And? If you got the money that they did while being as poor and as starving as they were? The first thing you would do — even if you were the most stupid rich person before then — is stock up your stores of dry goods! Flour, salt, honey, dried beans/peas/lentils, vegetables that store - onions, squashes, potatoes, root vegetables like carrots. It’s straight up Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs here - you will not give a shit about a new cloak before you give a shit about saying your hunger. They are said to be ‘starving’. Sorting out your survival comes before sorting out your fashion.

Anyways, this has been me for channel 4, reporting on anachronisms and misrepresentations in fantasy fiction. More news at 10.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The AI hype bubble is the new crypto hype bubble

Back in 2017 Long Island Ice Tea — known for its undistinguished, barely drinkable sugar-water — changed its name to “Long Blockchain Corp.” Its shares surged to a peak of 400% over their pre-announcement price. The company announced no specific integrations with any kind of blockchain, nor has it made any such integrations since.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

LBCC was subsequently delisted from NASDAQ after settling with the SEC over fraudulent investor statements. Today, the company trades over the counter and its market cap is $36m, down from $138m.

https://cointelegraph.com/news/textbook-case-of-crypto-hype-how-iced-tea-company-went-blockchain-and-failed-despite-a-289-percent-stock-rise

The most remarkable thing about this incredibly stupid story is that LBCC wasn’t the peak of the blockchain bubble — rather, it was the start of blockchain’s final pump-and-dump. By the standards of 2022’s blockchain grifters, LBCC was small potatoes, a mere $138m sugar-water grift.

They didn’t have any NFTs, no wash trades, no ICO. They didn’t have a Superbowl ad. They didn’t steal billions from mom-and-pop investors while proclaiming themselves to be “Effective Altruists.” They didn’t channel hundreds of millions to election campaigns through straw donations and other forms of campaing finance frauds. They didn’t even open a crypto-themed hamburger restaurant where you couldn’t buy hamburgers with crypto:

https://robbreport.com/food-drink/dining/bored-hungry-restaurant-no-cryptocurrency-1234694556/

They were amateurs. Their attempt to “make fetch happen” only succeeded for a brief instant. By contrast, the superpredators of the crypto bubble were able to make fetch happen over an improbably long timescale, deploying the most powerful reality distortion fields since Pets.com.

Anything that can’t go on forever will eventually stop. We’re told that trillions of dollars’ worth of crypto has been wiped out over the past year, but these losses are nowhere to be seen in the real economy — because the “wealth” that was wiped out by the crypto bubble’s bursting never existed in the first place.

Like any Ponzi scheme, crypto was a way to separate normies from their savings through the pretense that they were “investing” in a vast enterprise — but the only real money (“fiat” in cryptospeak) in the system was the hardscrabble retirement savings of working people, which the bubble’s energetic inflaters swapped for illiquid, worthless shitcoins.

We’ve stopped believing in the illusory billions. Sam Bankman-Fried is under house arrest. But the people who gave him money — and the nimbler Ponzi artists who evaded arrest — are looking for new scams to separate the marks from their money.

Take Morganstanley, who spent 2021 and 2022 hyping cryptocurrency as a massive growth opportunity:

https://cointelegraph.com/news/morgan-stanley-launches-cryptocurrency-research-team

Today, Morganstanley wants you to know that AI is a $6 trillion opportunity.

They’re not alone. The CEOs of Endeavor, Buzzfeed, Microsoft, Spotify, Youtube, Snap, Sports Illustrated, and CAA are all out there, pumping up the AI bubble with every hour that god sends, declaring that the future is AI.

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/business/business-news/wall-street-ai-stock-price-1235343279/

Google and Bing are locked in an arms-race to see whose search engine can attain the speediest, most profound enshittification via chatbot, replacing links to web-pages with florid paragraphs composed by fully automated, supremely confident liars:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/16/tweedledumber/#easily-spooked

Blockchain was a solution in search of a problem. So is AI. Yes, Buzzfeed will be able to reduce its wage-bill by automating its personality quiz vertical, and Spotify’s “AI DJ” will produce slightly less terrible playlists (at least, to the extent that Spotify doesn’t put its thumb on the scales by inserting tracks into the playlists whose only fitness factor is that someone paid to boost them).

But even if you add all of this up, double it, square it, and add a billion dollar confidence interval, it still doesn’t add up to what Bank Of America analysts called “a defining moment — like the internet in the ’90s.” For one thing, the most exciting part of the “internet in the ‘90s” was that it had incredibly low barriers to entry and wasn’t dominated by large companies — indeed, it had them running scared.

The AI bubble, by contrast, is being inflated by massive incumbents, whose excitement boils down to “This will let the biggest companies get much, much bigger and the rest of you can go fuck yourselves.” Some revolution.

AI has all the hallmarks of a classic pump-and-dump, starting with terminology. AI isn’t “artificial” and it’s not “intelligent.” “Machine learning” doesn’t learn. On this week’s Trashfuture podcast, they made an excellent (and profane and hilarious) case that ChatGPT is best understood as a sophisticated form of autocomplete — not our new robot overlord.

https://open.spotify.com/episode/4NHKMZZNKi0w9mOhPYIL4T

We all know that autocomplete is a decidedly mixed blessing. Like all statistical inference tools, autocomplete is profoundly conservative — it wants you to do the same thing tomorrow as you did yesterday (that’s why “sophisticated” ad retargeting ads show you ads for shoes in response to your search for shoes). If the word you type after “hey” is usually “hon” then the next time you type “hey,” autocomplete will be ready to fill in your typical following word — even if this time you want to type “hey stop texting me you freak”:

https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/provocations/neophobic-conservative-ai-overlords-want-everything-stay/

And when autocomplete encounters a new input — when you try to type something you’ve never typed before — it tries to get you to finish your sentence with the statistically median thing that everyone would type next, on average. Usually that produces something utterly bland, but sometimes the results can be hilarious. Back in 2018, I started to text our babysitter with “hey are you free to sit” only to have Android finish the sentence with “on my face” (not something I’d ever typed!):

https://mashable.com/article/android-predictive-text-sit-on-my-face

Modern autocomplete can produce long passages of text in response to prompts, but it is every bit as unreliable as 2018 Android SMS autocomplete, as Alexander Hanff discovered when ChatGPT informed him that he was dead, even generating a plausible URL for a link to a nonexistent obit in The Guardian:

https://www.theregister.com/2023/03/02/chatgpt_considered_harmful/

Of course, the carnival barkers of the AI pump-and-dump insist that this is all a feature, not a bug. If autocomplete says stupid, wrong things with total confidence, that’s because “AI” is becoming more human, because humans also say stupid, wrong things with total confidence.

Exhibit A is the billionaire AI grifter Sam Altman, CEO if OpenAI — a company whose products are not open, nor are they artificial, nor are they intelligent. Altman celebrated the release of ChatGPT by tweeting “i am a stochastic parrot, and so r u.”

https://twitter.com/sama/status/1599471830255177728

This was a dig at the “stochastic parrots” paper, a comprehensive, measured roundup of criticisms of AI that led Google to fire Timnit Gebru, a respected AI researcher, for having the audacity to point out the Emperor’s New Clothes:

https://www.technologyreview.com/2020/12/04/1013294/google-ai-ethics-research-paper-forced-out-timnit-gebru/

Gebru’s co-author on the Parrots paper was Emily M Bender, a computational linguistics specialist at UW, who is one of the best-informed and most damning critics of AI hype. You can get a good sense of her position from Elizabeth Weil’s New York Magazine profile:

https://nymag.com/intelligencer/article/ai-artificial-intelligence-chatbots-emily-m-bender.html

Bender has made many important scholarly contributions to her field, but she is also famous for her rules of thumb, which caution her fellow scientists not to get high on their own supply:

Please do not conflate word form and meaning

Mind your own credulity

As Bender says, we’ve made “machines that can mindlessly generate text, but we haven’t learned how to stop imagining the mind behind it.” One potential tonic against this fallacy is to follow an Italian MP’s suggestion and replace “AI” with “SALAMI” (“Systematic Approaches to Learning Algorithms and Machine Inferences”). It’s a lot easier to keep a clear head when someone asks you, “Is this SALAMI intelligent? Can this SALAMI write a novel? Does this SALAMI deserve human rights?”

Bender’s most famous contribution is the “stochastic parrot,” a construct that “just probabilistically spits out words.” AI bros like Altman love the stochastic parrot, and are hellbent on reducing human beings to stochastic parrots, which will allow them to declare that their chatbots have feature-parity with human beings.

At the same time, Altman and Co are strangely afraid of their creations. It’s possible that this is just a shuck: “I have made something so powerful that it could destroy humanity! Luckily, I am a wise steward of this thing, so it’s fine. But boy, it sure is powerful!”

They’ve been playing this game for a long time. People like Elon Musk (an investor in OpenAI, who is hoping to convince the EU Commission and FTC that he can fire all of Twitter’s human moderators and replace them with chatbots without violating EU law or the FTC’s consent decree) keep warning us that AI will destroy us unless we tame it.

There’s a lot of credulous repetition of these claims, and not just by AI’s boosters. AI critics are also prone to engaging in what Lee Vinsel calls criti-hype: criticizing something by repeating its boosters’ claims without interrogating them to see if they’re true:

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

There are better ways to respond to Elon Musk warning us that AIs will emulsify the planet and use human beings for food than to shout, “Look at how irresponsible this wizard is being! He made a Frankenstein’s Monster that will kill us all!” Like, we could point out that of all the things Elon Musk is profoundly wrong about, he is most wrong about the philosophical meaning of Wachowksi movies:

https://www.theguardian.com/film/2020/may/18/lilly-wachowski-ivana-trump-elon-musk-twitter-red-pill-the-matrix-tweets

But even if we take the bros at their word when they proclaim themselves to be terrified of “existential risk” from AI, we can find better explanations by seeking out other phenomena that might be triggering their dread. As Charlie Stross points out, corporations are Slow AIs, autonomous artificial lifeforms that consistently do the wrong thing even when the people who nominally run them try to steer them in better directions:

https://media.ccc.de/v/34c3-9270-dude_you_broke_the_future

Imagine the existential horror of a ultra-rich manbaby who nominally leads a company, but can’t get it to follow: “everyone thinks I’m in charge, but I’m actually being driven by the Slow AI, serving as its sock puppet on some days, its golem on others.”

Ted Chiang nailed this back in 2017 (the same year of the Long Island Blockchain Company):

There’s a saying, popularized by Fredric Jameson, that it’s easier to imagine the end of the world than to imagine the end of capitalism. It’s no surprise that Silicon Valley capitalists don’t want to think about capitalism ending. What’s unexpected is that the way they envision the world ending is through a form of unchecked capitalism, disguised as a superintelligent AI. They have unconsciously created a devil in their own image, a boogeyman whose excesses are precisely their own.

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/tedchiang/the-real-danger-to-civilization-isnt-ai-its-runaway

Chiang is still writing some of the best critical work on “AI.” His February article in the New Yorker, “ChatGPT Is a Blurry JPEG of the Web,” was an instant classic:

[AI] hallucinations are compression artifacts, but — like the incorrect labels generated by the Xerox photocopier — they are plausible enough that identifying them requires comparing them against the originals, which in this case means either the Web or our own knowledge of the world.

https://www.newyorker.com/tech/annals-of-technology/chatgpt-is-a-blurry-jpeg-of-the-web

“AI” is practically purpose-built for inflating another hype-bubble, excelling as it does at producing party-tricks — plausible essays, weird images, voice impersonations. But as Princeton’s Matthew Salganik writes, there’s a world of difference between “cool” and “tool”:

https://freedom-to-tinker.com/2023/03/08/can-chatgpt-and-its-successors-go-from-cool-to-tool/

Nature can claim “conversational AI is a game-changer for science” but “there is a huge gap between writing funny instructions for removing food from home electronics and doing scientific research.” Salganik tried to get ChatGPT to help him with the most banal of scholarly tasks — aiding him in peer reviewing a colleague’s paper. The result? “ChatGPT didn’t help me do peer review at all; not one little bit.”

The criti-hype isn’t limited to ChatGPT, of course — there’s plenty of (justifiable) concern about image and voice generators and their impact on creative labor markets, but that concern is often expressed in ways that amplify the self-serving claims of the companies hoping to inflate the hype machine.

One of the best critical responses to the question of image- and voice-generators comes from Kirby Ferguson, whose final Everything Is a Remix video is a superb, visually stunning, brilliantly argued critique of these systems:

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

One area where Ferguson shines is in thinking through the copyright question — is there any right to decide who can study the art you make? Except in some edge cases, these systems don’t store copies of the images they analyze, nor do they reproduce them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/09/ai-monkeys-paw/#bullied-schoolkids

For creators, the important material question raised by these systems is economic, not creative: will our bosses use them to erode our wages? That is a very important question, and as far as our bosses are concerned, the answer is a resounding yes.

Markets value automation primarily because automation allows capitalists to pay workers less. The textile factory owners who purchased automatic looms weren’t interested in giving their workers raises and shorting working days. ‘ They wanted to fire their skilled workers and replace them with small children kidnapped out of orphanages and indentured for a decade, starved and beaten and forced to work, even after they were mangled by the machines. Fun fact: Oliver Twist was based on the bestselling memoir of Robert Blincoe, a child who survived his decade of forced labor:

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/59127/59127-h/59127-h.htm

Today, voice actors sitting down to record for games companies are forced to begin each session with “My name is ______ and I hereby grant irrevocable permission to train an AI with my voice and use it any way you see fit.”

https://www.vice.com/en/article/5d37za/voice-actors-sign-away-rights-to-artificial-intelligence

Let’s be clear here: there is — at present — no firmly established copyright over voiceprints. The “right” that voice actors are signing away as a non-negotiable condition of doing their jobs for giant, powerful monopolists doesn’t even exist. When a corporation makes a worker surrender this right, they are betting that this right will be created later in the name of “artists’ rights” — and that they will then be able to harvest this right and use it to fire the artists who fought so hard for it.

There are other approaches to this. We could support the US Copyright Office’s position that machine-generated works are not works of human creative authorship and are thus not eligible for copyright — so if corporations wanted to control their products, they’d have to hire humans to make them:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/2/21/22944335/us-copyright-office-reject-ai-generated-art-recent-entrance-to-paradise

Or we could create collective rights that belong to all artists and can’t be signed away to a corporation. That’s how the right to record other musicians’ songs work — and it’s why Taylor Swift was able to re-record the masters that were sold out from under her by evil private-equity bros::

https://doctorow.medium.com/united-we-stand-61e16ec707e2

Whatever we do as creative workers and as humans entitled to a decent life, we can’t afford drink the Blockchain Iced Tea. That means that we have to be technically competent, to understand how the stochastic parrot works, and to make sure our criticism doesn’t just repeat the marketing copy of the latest pump-and-dump.

Today (Mar 9), you can catch me in person in Austin at the UT School of Design and Creative Technologies, and remotely at U Manitoba’s Ethics of Emerging Tech Lecture.

Tomorrow (Mar 10), Rebecca Giblin and I kick off the SXSW reading series.

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

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

[Image ID: A graph depicting the Gartner hype cycle. A pair of HAL 9000's glowing red eyes are chasing each other down the slope from the Peak of Inflated Expectations to join another one that is at rest in the Trough of Disillusionment. It, in turn, sits atop a vast cairn of HAL 9000 eyes that are piled in a rough pyramid that extends below the graph to a distance of several times its height.]

[evilscientist3]

I gotta say, the Dow rising 2000 points after the Trump win really highlights how useless the stock market is at value estimation. Some theorise that the best way to accurately predict things is using a prediction market - an exchange where people can stake something on some prospective outcome occurring, with a reward if they're correct. The idea is that the predictions of many will, when they're serious enough to put money on, be correct on average - sort of like how you can get an accurate answer for those "guess the number of beans in the jar" competitions by finding the average of everyone else's guesses (though the village fair officials have learned to throw me out if they find me with my notebook out in earshot of the stand). Roughly speaking, the stock market works a bit like this - there's heavy convolution stemming from the fact that you're really guessing that a company's *perceived* worth will go up, but in the grand scheme of things the goal is to choose companies whose economic output will grow.

Trump's proposed heavy tariffs that would gut US trade. Businesses are freaking out and running damage control already, it seems - I've seen people talking about companies cutting Christmas bonuses to rush-import equipment. Everyone but investors are bracing themselves to go over an economic cliff. So how come Wall Street isn't picking up on the message? It could be that the current short-lived surge in trade is pushing numbers up - but for the most part, it's probably that your average investor is stupid and racist enough that Trump in power means more to them about the state of the economy than any actual knowledge ever could. Meaning, of course, that like in 2008, the whole market will collapse like a mistreated soufflé when people start trying to cash cheques.

I hope the tariffs happen. I want to see America dissolve

[sachiko6243]

I belong to you

Summary: After Aubrey had dealt with her past and finally freed herself from her abusive father, Carlisle made sure to spoil her rotten, buying her a whole island in her name. A new beginning for the couple celebrated with inaugurating their new bed...

This is a part of a story I write on Wattpad (its also finished), as I am conviced this man needs more attention. Its called "Save Haven". Feel free to hop over, my account name is in my description. 🥰

Word count: 3457

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, dirty talk (a lot of it), rough, Dom Carlisle, sub reader, Minors DNI! this contains adult content!

He walked us through the house, but I was way to occupied with him and my feelings than to look thoroughly. There would be time a different day. When he stopped walking, he slowly set me down on the floor. I let go of him, watching his face through my tearstained lashes, a smile spreading over my lips. “Not to sound like I am not appreciating your gift, but why?” I asked, my voice still shaky from the crying. Carlisle shrugged his shoulders: “I wanted to make you happy.”

“You don’t need to throw away that much money, to make me happy.” I scolded him. “This is way too much. I cant take that gift. Its… how am I ever supposed to make it up to you?”

“Its not enough.” Carlisle held his ground. “You are here with me. Spending your time with me. You even considered giving up your mortality to stay with me. That’s more than I could have ever dreamed to have, more than I am even entitled to asked for. And still, I have it. This is nothing compared to the things you already gave me.”

“Its expensive! And I want to stay with you, because I love you, not because of your money. How are you even able to afford all of this? I mean, I know you are rich, but that’s clearly another level of rich.” I tried to argue, searching for reasons to talk some sense into him. But my statement seemed to do nothing more than make him laugh: “And I am very grateful that you choose me because of who I am and not what I am.” He said giving my forehead a kiss. “This is not expensive at all. Do you even know how rich I am? I have been working as a doctor for over 200 years. In the beginning I worked in two hospitals one dayshift one nightshift. There is a lot of money that starts to collect itself. More than I could ever spend. And after Alice joined us, trading on the stock market became another source of income. So please let me spoil you. It’s the least I can do.”

I just huffed, trying to retort something, but he just put a finger on my lips. “No arguing anymore. Remember what I told you on our first date?”

“That you are old school?” I asked, raising a brow in confusion.

“Exactly. And what did Bella suggest if the towns gossip would push you out of your work?” He kept on asking without giving me an explanation.

“To become your sugar babe? That was a joke, Carlisle. You cant just…” I was again interrupted. “I can and I will. I am going to be your very old school, very rich and good looking sugar daddy.” With that he simply pressed his lips against mine, ridding me of every chance of arguing back.

“God, how I missed doing that all day.” He mumbled into my hair and I instantly relaxed against his chest, taking in his masculine scent of books and smoke.

Carlisle immediately picked me up again and pressed me against the wall. Out of reflex, I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders. He narrowed his eyes, as desire slowly pushed itself to the front. I swallowed and looked up at him, at those beautiful golden eyes that had grown dark with need. When I ran my tongue over my lips, I heard him groan. "And?" I asked, his strong reaction towards my lust making me cocky, heat pooling in my stomach. "What else did you miss?"

He dipped his head, his lips just above my collar bone. "You." He whispered. Cold breaths fanning over my skin made me close my eyes and whimper out in lust, goosebumps rising all over my skin. "I want you." He repeated, his voice a low growl against my skin.

I swallowed hard, as he pressed up against me, the feeling of his hard cock straining against his pants making my breathing go rigid. His hands let go of my waist; his lips skimming up to my ear. A sound rose from the back of my throat, something that felt like a purr. Warmth and desire washed over me again, and I grabbed onto Carlisle collar, saying: “Please, daddy.”

He pulled back, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with passion. After the next inhale, his lips crushed onto mine. I was pulled into a darkened tunnel of desire. His kisses were deep, drugging me senseless. His tongue, all cold and icy, luscious, and sinful, licked and probed its way into the warmth of my mouth. Whimpering helplessly, I looped my arms around his neck. My body already throbbing and aching, arousal pooling between my thighs, and he had just started kissing me.

There was no need to be hurried. His mouth devoured mine, leaving me breathless, and him oblivious to me working frantically on his clothes. “Slowly, little girl.” He groaned when he felt his vest coming undone. “Slowly.”

Carlisle grabbed my wrists to stop me. “Slowly.” He pulled away just enough, his mouth barely hovering over my lips. “Let’s make tonight count, hmmm?” His eyes had grown dark and dangerous. “How…” I started, but his cold breath fanning over my skin made reel up in need. He was able to make me go weak in the knees just by the way he touched me, and he knew it. “How slow are we talking about?” I was finally able to press out.

“Very slow.” He whispered before dragging my face in for a kiss. “So slow…” He savored the lusciousness of his words. “…that by the time I’m done with you, you won't have an ounce of strength left in that beautiful body of yours.” He wore a wicked grin on his face, walking us over to the sofa in front of the fireplace that was set on the light stone wall across the bed. He gently laid me down, hovering over me before pressing a searing kiss to my cheek, just as gentle as when he laid me down.

“I’m gonna eat your pretty little pussy, kitty.” He gingerly kissed me, fiddling with the strings of my dress. I was stunned at his sudden change in demeanor. Normally he was very careful of the others hearing our interactions. But it seemed the more time we spent together, the bolder he got. Finally, able to loosen my dress enough, he shuffled it up my body, pulling it over my head.

“Fuck.” he breathed. “Feels like you’re trying to kill me already, love.” Keeping his place between my legs, his arms trailed up my chest, playing with my tits. “So fucking gorgeous…” Placing my hands on his wrists, encouraging him to continue, I sighed “Daddy…” Head thrown back. I could swear his eyes darkened by four shades, swallowing his pretty golden hues into the abyss of his lust.

Moving from his place between my legs to help me remove my underwear in one swift motion, quickly getting right back to business as soon as he was able to. Once he was settled back between my thighs again, I could feel his hands gripping them tightly. “Such a pretty pussy you’ve got here, little one.” His face was so close to my center, his breath fanned against my skin with every word he said. “Can’t believe you’ve kept it from me for so long.” Littering my thighs with kiss after kiss, each time getting closer to my core.

“I haven’t.” I breathed out, my voice audibly shaking at his actions. He just tutted at my words. “I had to wait nearly 400 years for you to step into my life. Only to then see you being abused by another man. Forcing me to sneak around everyone’s back, only to be with you.”

My hands made their way to his hair, gently grasping his hair and tugging to emphasize my need for him. “Please, Carlisle…”

“Please what, little kitty?” He mocked coyly.

“You know what.” My hips began to rise from the sofa, searching for some relief.

“Uh uh.” He moved his head further from where I wanted it the most. “I wanna hear you say it for me.”

“I… can you… I want you to eat me out, please?” Squeezing my eyes shut, not being able to look at him, as he finally connected his lips with my center. “Oh my GOD!” His tongue traced my clit lightly, barely giving much stimulation, but even that was enough to make my legs starting to quiver.

While his tongue tracing my clit felt absolutely amazing, nothing prepared me for feeling his tongue tracing along my soaked slit, before delicately prodding inside of me. “Fuck!” I shrieked out, his tongue trailing back to my clit before I felt his finger slowly enter my pussy. He raised his mouth from my center, looking me straight into my eyes. “For Gods sake, how I love this.” His voice was nearly a growl. “That sweet pussy of yours hooked me the moment I had my first taste. And by all what is mighty, I will never stop worshipping it.” I couldn’t help myself but mewl at his words. The way he praised me in his old-fashioned way of speaking turning my bones to water.

He was passionate about pleasing me, humming at my skin. Making sure to wait for me to relax, welcoming the pleasure rather than being surprised by it, before he slowly started to thrust the single digit in and out of my core. I tossed my head back against the pillows at the feeling of his long fingers reaching parts of me that I could never reach myself.

“Fuck!” His finger found the perfect spot inside of me, curling to massage it gently and bringing me closer to the edge. My pussy pulsating in rhythm with his thrusts, the wet and messy sounds of my pleasure filling the room. I felt him moan, even more as he brought his free hand up my chest, pinching and pulling my nipple before switching to the neglected breast, simultaneously adding a second finger. 

I cried out for him. “I’m so close, please don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” My back began to arch off the sofa, as his ministrations went on, his fingers pounding into my pussy as his lips continued to suck eagerly at my clit. “Oh my…” I rasped, my voice hoarse and thin. “Daddy!” I yelled, as my orgasm washed over me all the sudden. Riding it out, as he refused to cease his actions on my body until I couldn’t take any more and ha to pull him away.

“I need you.” I said timidly, my gaze on the floor. “I need you inside of me.” But the way he looked at me with those dark eyes and predatory look, made me feel brave and…sexy. Carlisle let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I slipped my hand underneath his clothes, gently shoving the fabric down his shoulders. He got the hint, getting up from his knees and undressing himself, making a show for me to watch. His fair skin, scattered with scars from the many fights he had been in, giving his soft appearance a slight hint of roughness, that had me reeling in desire.

"You sound so needy.” He growled, watching me intently as I laid there, spreading my legs for him. "I love it when you are all desperate and riled up for me." He shook his head, a cocky grin appearing on his lips. And I whined at his words. "You are such a slut." He grinned, grabbing me by my neck and pulling me across the sofa to have more space to settle between my legs. But he didn’t. Standing next to me, he looked down with a smirk.

"Do you know what that dress did to me all day?" He asked, his voice a tad gentler. "I should have fucked you when you came down the stairs." A hot shiver ran down my spine and fluttered inside my core. "I would have fucked my cum so deep inside you, until you are a crying mess for everyone to hear. And then I would have had you walk back down. Nothing more than a ripped dress covering you, barely doing anything to keep your modesty, all while my cum runs down your thigh."

I winced at his word, closing my legs in embarrassment. Did he really mean that? "Carlisle…" I started, "…that’s…" I was cut off with a loud moan pushing through my lips as he inserted two fingers. His fingers curled once more, and with it, my toes. "This pussy belongs to me." He pumped his fingers inside of me, slowly crawling on top of me. "Your pussy belongs to me. And I will have it whenever I want it."

Without a warning, his fingers abandoned my needy core, his cock taking their place. The thickness stretching me out, as the head of his penis pressed against my puffy walls. He pulled out quickly, then bottomed out once more. His hands gripped my hips in a bruising hold, his thrusts just as rough. I cried out each time he filled me up. It was too much, but not enough at the same time. He had never fucked me like this before, without preparing me with his fingers thoroughly, but I relished in it. Relished in the way his balls slapped against me with a wet snap. Relished in the way he made a mess of me; my wetness being smeared around between us.

"I belong to you." I whimpered, back arching and hands gripping his biceps, as my nails failed to dig into his skin. Carlisles thrusts faltered and he finally looked at me. He pulled me flush to his chest, my bare breasts against him. Gripping my chin and looking deep into my eyes. "Say it again."

"I'm yours, Daddy. Forever." I repeated, my voice slightly muffled by his fingers gripping my chin hard. Picking up his pace again, he let go of my face, grabbing both of my hands and burying them beneath his fingers.

Like a ravenous predator, his eyes meet mine. A pleasure visible inside of them, that was beyond my wildest dreams, the high I so desperately yearned for just a tad too far to reach. “Please.” I whimpered, finally completely pushed over the edge and into submission. His previously slow pace got replaced by a more moderate one that had me gasping for air. The searing heat returning, yet this time it was more than welcomed, much like his cock, leaving not a spot untouched in its way.

“Daddy…” I whispered, not able to do much more than moan or plead his name. My head hung back, lips parted and back arching as I gave myself into his hands. Soon my moans were accompanied by his groans, showing how much this affected him as well. It was the sound of his voice, growling my name followed by a string of curses, that dragged me towards my release in fast steps.

“Carlisle, please…” I breathed out, loud enough to catch his attention. “More…” Arching my back, to press myself against his chest, unable to fight his strong hold that held me in place as he pounded into me mercilessly.  “M-More, please” I rasped.

His response was letting go of one hand and grabbing ahold of my hips, as he kept on driving himself in as deep as possible, knocking the air straight out of my lungs, leaving me clutching onto his shoulder and hand. “It’s as if you are trying to send me over the edge just by looking at me.” His voice was low, unsteady. A mere shadow of its usual self. “My pretty little girl, so eager to be ruined.” I was unable to even process his words. All I could sense was him, so I shrieked, when he let go of me and roughly manhandled my legs upwards.

With knees now brought to my chest, I could do nothing but claw at the pillows, as his strong hold kept me in place. The feeling of his cock more prominent than ever, as blind spots were slowly taking over my vision.

“Carlisle!” I yelped, but my train of thought got interrupted by another thrust.

“This is what you requested, is it not?” He growled. A mewl ripped from my throat, a series of pants and gasps filling the room before my jaw was in his grasp once more; forcing my gaze upon him. “It is what you begged me for. To give you more, is it not?” He repeated.

Not being able to do much more than gape, I parted my lips, staring into golden hues now wild and firm, boring into my soul. Even though I stared at him, I could not focus on anything, all my attention on the snapping of his hips, the feeling of his tip touching that one bundle of nerves that made me cry out in desperation. “Th-There - There!”

My words were jumbled and slurred; my brain drunk from the bliss overtaking my body one tidal wave after another. I bucked my hips, frantic for that sensation to grow stronger. “Here?’’ He drove into my core again, prompting my eyes to fall back into my head. The only word I was able to say being his name and hushed pleads, interrupted by countless gasps, and mewls.

A familiar feeling started to rise within the pit of my stomach, sending all my senses into overload. It was blistering, devastating, and I was unsure how much longer I could hold on. With Carlisles fingers now capturing my clit between his thumb and forefinger, combined with the icy heat of his kisses on my neck and shoulder, it was beyond what I could have ever asked for.

Searing, hot, like a rapid, undying fire my body started burning. With eyes barely opening I tried to warn him, yet my core did it for me. Walls clamping down, earning a curse from him, as fresh marks now stained the skin of my hips.

“C-Can’t - I can’t.” I cried out, but he cut me off with his lips, dragging me into a kiss full of passion. Hunger, vigor, intense and demanding, that’s what crossed my mind as he kissed me. “Come, my love.” His voice almost drowning in the hurdled cry that left my mouth after he parted from the kiss. “Come for me.”

It was all I needed to hear, to finally shatter around him. My vision turning blurry, as a violent jerk overtook my body, all the nerves tensed and contracted in pure bliss. It was blinding and fierce, and in a fervid moment, I arched my back, finally releasing the blistering heat inside of my body with a cry of his name. Surely heard by everyone in this house.

Trembling, that was all I could do. My frame hit the sheets, head spinning, as I was gasping for air. And I barely even noticed Carlisle being brought to his own release a shuddering growl of my name falling from his lips. The once fervent snaps melting into nothing but a few bucks until he steadily came to a stop.

Once more, my swollen lips were captured by his own, slower, gentler this time, but still as passionate as ever. Unable to come up with much resistance, I merely hummed and leaned into him; sighing as his length retreated from my core, leaving behind an empty feeling.

It took a moment for him to gather his composure, but soon he got up, he was making a run for the bathroom to get a towel to clean me up. At least that’s what I assumed; my head still too fogged up to really comprehend anything beyond the tingly feeling inside my body. Within seconds, he was back, kissing every part of my body he could reach while cleaning me up. “Rest.” It was a quiet whisper. “You did so well, little one.” He sighed, pressing a peck to my mouth. “But for now, rest.”

I could feel him picking me up and carrying me through the room. The next thing I noticed was being sat down on a soft surface. But when he let go of me, I cried out for him. Immediately his cold hands were back on my body. “Shh, my love. Its alright. Sleep now. I am here.” Closing my eyes, I registered him climbing into the bed as well. Cuddling into his side, I fell asleep, his arms holding me securely in a cold embrace.

[monicascot]

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[kayharrisons]

It's getting dark, darling, too dark to see [Bjorn x afab! Reader] [Part 2 of ?]

The first night is the hardest.

Previous

Next

A/N: omg I can't believe the reception on the first part of this!!! I had to start working on part two right away :) there will be MAJOR angst but a happy ending, I promise!! Also this is going to be more than one part, yay!!!!

Warnings for the series (updated, not necessarily for this chapter but for future ones): general alien themes, MAJOR character death, blood, graphic depictions of violence, trauma, trauma bonding, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!), technical cousin incest (Kay/Bjorn), childbirth and pregnancy, implied nsfw content, Bjorn and reader get a lil co-dependent I can't lie guys, protective Bjorn and reader

Yvaga is so green.

You both stand at the windows in the cockpit, staring out into the trees, the bright sky, the fluffy white clouds.

It looks like a dream.

"I've seen it," Rain had said, what feels like a lifetime ago. "In my dreams." she had smiled sheepishly, ducking her head down in that endearing Rain way.

She's been dead for almost ten years, now. They all have.

Turns out Cryo-sleep doesn't speed past the grieving process. Their deaths still feel raw and agonising, an open wound that's just had rubbing alcohol doused all over it.

"...they'd be nine, now," Bjorn says, his voice a whisper, a shadow of himself. His eyes are dark, stormy, glued to the bright blue sky. "My kid. The baby. If we'd never left home it... it would've been... should've been nine now."

You don't know what to say to that, so you settle for reaching over, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. His hand comes up to meet yours, giving it a squeeze, before his head ducks down.

"Thank fuckin' god autopilot can land itself," he laughs, bitterly. "We were always the fuckin' worst at flyin'."

You hiss through your teeth, rubbing the back of your head at that memory. You'd forgone your seatbelt the first time Bjorn had tried flying under Navarro and Tyler's watchful eyes. Bjorn had panicked at the crush and swerved, you'd gone flying right out of your seat and earned a hefty ten stitches in your scalp for your trouble.

Bjorn had apologised profusely, you'd gotten him back by struggling with the throttle on the damn hauler.

Thank god for autopilot indeed.

You land near a forest, programmed to be about two hours away from civilisation.

You can't help but feel thankful for that, not sure how up to people either of you are at the present moment. People meant questions. Questions meant talking about your crew, what had happened.

"So," Bjorn claps his hands together, speedwalking past his grief for now, as he leads you to the small kitchen. "Got enough rations for about a year, that's with six of us, though-" he pauses, wavering a little, before clearing his throat. "-so, we've got plenty of time to figure out whateva the fuck it is we wanna do next. Won't go hungry any time soon."

You nod, scanning over the cabinets and shelves. Well stocked, clearly the others had been hoarding their rations for some time in the hauler, or making trades on the underground market. It's where Bjorn and Navarro used to get the good cigarettes, after all.

"I imagine we'll step out eventually, right? See exactly what Yvaga has going for it beyond a nice sunset." you remark, plucking out a packet of dehydrated corn bread. You rip it open, popping a chunk in your mouth, before offering the bag to Bjorn, who immediately tears into it.

"Could use a nice sunset," he huffs, shrugging at you. "Not like we've got any immediate plans for the evenin', right love?"

You relent with a grunt, taking the bag of cornbread back from him when he offers it. "Right." you agree, looking at him. He's leaning against the counter, arms crossed firmly across his chest, his head ducked down ever so slightly. You glance down, lips twitching at the sight of his bare legs.

Somehow, that feels like the most alien thing you've seen lately.

"We should probably put pants on, huh?" you remark, and Bjorn blinks at you, eyes darting down to your own bare legs, then back up to your face.

"...I dunno. S'kinda freein', innit?" he jokes, shaking one of his legs at you. A snort makes its way out of you, and he grins, putting his leg back down. "Probably, though. Don't wanna get told to fuck off for runnin' around in our skivvies, we just got here an'all."

"It'd be such a pain in the ass," you agree, nodding your head. "Would have to plot a whole new course and everything, then fuck about with the cryo fuel. Easier to just put on pants and avoid the risk."

Bjorn groans, all the way back to the locker room as he rummages around his backpack to grab another pair of pants to shove his legs into. You follow suit, sliding an old pair of cargo pants up your legs.

Neither of you talk about the five other bags and sets of personal belongings hanging up on hooks and shoved into lockers.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It doesn't take long for Bjorn to get a fire going.

The hauler's doors remain open as you both sit outside, perched on a log before the little firepit Bjorn had put together. You've had your rations for the night, and some old-Earth song plays from the cassette player that Tyler had brought on board. Everyone had brought a varied mix of tapes.

This one was Bjorn's favourite, though, full of a bunch of rock songs he'd always had playing in the background as he helped Navarro with her tinkering, or when he was having a drink or two at home.

You both stare into the flames, cans of untouched beer in your hands. Aspen, you fucking hate the stuff. Bjorn had brought it onboard, though, and it was the only booze you had.

"...is it horrible that I kind of just want to go to sleep?" you ask, and Bjorn snorts, head lolling over to look at you. The flames dance over his pale face, illuminating it in the dimming daylight.

"Haven't had enough of that have ya?"

"Doesn't feel like it," you sigh, leaning your head back and closing your eyes, breathing the clean air deep into your lungs.

Bjorn grunts, looking away from you and focusing his eyes on the orange sky. "Know whatcha mean. Doesn't feel like any time's passed at all. Which is the point, I know, but..."

"Kind of wish it had, a little."

"Yeah," he agrees, before finally cracking open his can of beer. He holds it aloft, looking at you pointedly. You follow suit, and he taps his beer can against yours. "To the others."

Your throat feels tight at that, your eyes well up. Bjorn's own are misty, but you'd never dare remark upon it.

"To our family." you correct, gently, and he inhales sharply, before nodding.

"To our family."

You both take sips of the shitty beer, legs lightly touching as the sun sets, as the sky darkens.

You can't find it as beautiful as people described it, however. Not with the heavy weight of loss upon yours and Bjorn's shoulders.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

You take the top bunk at Bjorn's insistence. He slips into the bottom bunk, the electric stun baton clutched tight in his fingers, his back to the wall and eyes staring out at the open space.

You don't comment on it as you clamber up to the top bunk, staring at the metal ceiling. Years of etched doodles, of signatures, of stickers and posters. All there for you to see.

You roll onto your side, facing the opening of the bunk. Your breathing slows, evens itself out, and yet the sleep you've desperately been craving evades you.

The ship is quiet. Everything all locked up and turned to off. The only sound is your breathing, Bjorn's too quiet for you to pick up on from the top bunk.

You don't know how long you lay awake, staring at the metal vent across from you, head aching more and more as you lay there unable to sleep. It's frustrating, sure, but you're rather numb to feeling anything else but grief.

Despite the grey of the ship, all you can see is red.

Red, as Navarro's chest burst open. Red, as Kay's blood splattered the glass. Red, as Tyler's warm, thick blood dripped down onto you. Red, as Kay's life drained from her. Red, as Rain's helmet was broken and she screamed for you to leave her.

Even Andy, as he twitched on the floor, choking on the white of his blood.

The silence is what kills you.

The ship has never been so quiet in all its life (of course, save for those 9 years you and Bjorn had been in cryo). It's unnatural, it makes your skin crawl.

Until, that is, you hear some muffled noises from the bottom bunk. You shift, propping yourself up on your elbows as you listen.

A sniffle, a shaky exhale, a shuddery inhale. A muffled cry.

Your heart twists as you realise what it is.

Bjorn is crying.

There's some shuffling from beneath you, and the noises muffle themselves. You're sure if you looked down, you'd spy Bjorn with his head buried in the pillow, trying to silence himself.

The urge to get up and comfort him is overwhelming. To hold his hand and grieve together, to try and get through this first night.

But you know him.

You've known Bjorn since you were eleven, both gangly awkward children. You've known him nine years, seen him at his best and worst. Seen him when grieving his mother, how he'd shut down towards everybody barring Navarro and... Kay.

You roll back over, electing to face the wall as the muffled cries continue. He doesn't need comforting, now, as nice as it would be to help him through it. No, he needs to grieve, needs this private moment to himself. You know he'd just end up clamming up with embarrassment if you tried to talk to him now, probably spout some bullshit about how men don't cry, fuck off.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, clutching the blankets tightly.

Neither of you sleep that first night.

[fredwkong]

Genie: Pete’s Wishes

Pete was a little 20-year-old nerd who had just started interning for a big securities firm. He didn’t top 5’4”, even the extra-small button-up shirts looked baggy on his skinny body, and he seemed even smaller because of his habitual slouching posture. At his first day at work, his new boss yelled at him, causing him to have a panic attack in the bathroom.

That evening, he walked by a thrift store and decided to go in. He wasn’t making much money as an intern, but he wanted to buy something small to cheer himself up. He spotted a traditional brass lamp on the shelf, the kind that genies sometimes come out of. At $20, it was a bit pricey for a thrift store, but Pete grabbed it anyway. It would make a cool conversation piece, if nothing else.

Once he got home, Pete started trying to clean the lamp, which caused it to begin glowing and convulsing until a cloud of smoke billowed out. As the smoke dissipated, it revealed an absolute muscle man of a genie. He wore tiny daisy dukes on his striated thighs, along with a top cropped just above his big, dark nipples. The genie stroked his finely cropped beard as he looked down at Pete.

“So, babe, here’s the deal,” said the genie. “You make the wishes, and I’ll turn them up to eleven.” He looked over Pete’s tiny body and cringing posture again, and curled his lip. “And girl, let’s make those wishes count. We have a lot of work to do here.”

“Um, uh.” The only thing in Pete’s head was the moment earlier that day when his boss had yelled at him. “I… wish I was more assertive?”

The genie smirked. “Good idea.” With a snap of his fingers, the genie filled the room with purple smoke. As Pete inhaled it, he felt like it shot right up into his brain, filling in spaces he hadn’t known were there. He suddenly realised that the way to get ahead in life was to be decisive and commanding. His posture uncurled, and his gaze became sharper. No one was ever going to overlook him or yell at him again.

The smoke also embedded itself in his throat, and he coughed, letting out a much deeper, more resonant sound than he had been capable of before. He now had a thunderous bass voice, a sound that was impossible for anyone to ignore.

Pete met the genie’s eyes for the first time. “Thanks,” he thundered, his new voice incapable of whispering.

The genie gave him an ironic salute. “Come back tomorrow for another wish, babe.”

The next day, no one was able to ignore Pete. He walked with power in spite of his tiny body, and nobody could ignore him when he spoke up to his boss in a meeting in his booming new voice. However, with his tiny stature and ill-fitting suit, they laughed off his advice. When he got home, Pete summoned the genie again, filled with righteous rage.

“Genie,” he roared, “I wish I had the cash to really show up my coworkers.”

“On it, babe,” said the genie, and snapped his fingers. It seemed for an instant as if nothing had changed. Then Pete got a notification on his phone. “You should check that.”

Pete had received an email from someone who said they were his secretary, informing him that his company had closed a deal to trade stocks for a multibillionaire client. Pete was a high-powered stockbroker. As he saw the number of zeroes on his contract, he felt another rush of knowledge into his mind. He knew exactly how to play the market, buying and selling to make sure that he and his clients ended every day with more money than they started with. He wrote a terse reply to his secretary:

“Understood. See you tomorrow. Peters.”

For a moment, he wondered why he had written that name. His name was… Peters, of course. Just like the exclusive boarding school where he’d first started day trading, he still preferred to go by his surname, but kept it casual by dropping any honourific.

“Enjoy those millions, darling,” said the genie, vanishing back into his lamp.

The next day was an exhausting one for Peters. He had the money, he was the boss, and he had an assertive attitude and booming voice, but he was still a shrimpy kid in his early 20s. Clients raised their eyebrows when a short young guy walked into the boardroom to present, and the secretaries, most of whom were older than him, seemed to resent Peters’ success and advantages.

When he summoned the genie, Peters was ready with the wish he had been thinking about all day. “I wish I was truly impressive.”

The genie grinned wide. “Absolutely, master,” he said, and snapped his fingers again. Another thick cloud of purple smoke emerged from the lamp, and this time it cocooned Peters’ entire body. He felt his clothes dissolve, leaving him naked. As he inhaled the smoke, Peters felt years of experience fill his mind. His already deep and assertive voice dropped a few more steps, gaining an imposing rasp.

As the smoke sank into Peters’ skin, he transformed. His black hair went grey, styling itself into a precise, stylish look. His face aged until he looked like a handsome man in his late 40s, with piercing eyes and a stylish grey beard. His whole body filled out as his height shot past 6 feet, bulked up with perfectly maintained muscle. His little cock thickened and lengthened as his pubes lightened to grey, becoming an impressive third leg with churning balls to match. Finally, the last of the smoke coalesced into a scattering of grey hair over his chest, back, and legs, and an immaculate blue suit.

Mr. Peters, the 49-year-old stockbroker, nodded to the genie. “Good work,” he rumbled, testing out the sound of his new, even more thunderous voice.

“Oh, I’m not done yet, master,” the genie purred, and clapped. The hotel room Mr. Peters had moved to with his newfound millions the previous night was immediately replaced with a huge, well-appointed penthouse. Instinctively, Mr. Peters moved to the humidor he kept next to the genie’s lamp. He expertly trimmed and lit a cigar, enjoying the luxurious flavour.

The genie looked him and the penthouse over one more time, and nodded. “See you tomorrow, sir,” he cooed, and blew a kiss to Mr. Peters as he vanished.

The next day, Mr. Peters was on fire. He closed several deals for his company, making himself and his clients even more money, and got taken out for dinner by the director of a competing corporation attempting to headhunt him. The power got him hard, and he was pent-up with a raging boner by the time he got home to make his wish.

“I don’t have time for any dating,” he told the genie brusquely. “I wish for a husband to fuck right now.”

“Order up,” the genie said, laughing, and snapped his fingers.

On the street outside, Larsen was looking for his friend Pete. They had been good school friends, both being little nerds, but Pete had suddenly stopped answering his messages a few days ago, and then seemed to have been scrubbed from existence. No one else remembered him, and people kept mentioning someone named Mr. Peters instead!

Just as Larsen was about to ask one of the building’s valet parking attendants if she knew a Pete living at this address, he felt a tug, as if someone had grabbed him around his belly, and he was suddenly in a dimly lit room. Outside the window was an exquisite view of the city, while inside of the room was a stern-looking man in a suit alongside a dark-skinned man dressed like a slutty himbo.

As the genie continued his work, Larsen became surrounded by a cloud of pink smoke. His muscles grew, his skin became porcelain smooth, and everything about him became classically handsome, like a perfect statue of a man. He grew to a respectable height, still shorter than Mr. Peters, and his dick swelled up, but not quite as large either. Instead, his ass grew into a pair of fuckable, jiggly globes that would be visible no matter what he wore.

The last of the pink smoke shot up Larsen’s nose and into his brain, rewiring him into a dumb himbo slut. Lars had been a German model until Mr. Peters had approached him after a show and offered to give him a luxurious life as his arm candy husband. They had a good enough relationship, and Mr. Peters—Sir—was a good, dominant Daddy, which Lars liked. What made their marriage really special, though, was that while Sir was at work, Lars went and picked up boys for the two of them to share. It was the only way he could get enough fucking during the day to keep up with his unbelievable sex drive.

“Guten Abend, Daddy,” Lars said, as the genie released him. “The boys are waiting in the second bedroom for us.” He stepped up in front of Mr. Peters and undid his tie and top button before Mr. Peters grabbed him by the back of his head and kissed him forcefully. A moment later, Lars led Mr. Peters out of the room and to the designated sex den, his bared dick leading the way.

The genie watched them leave. If he stayed any longer, the former Pete was likely to ask for something boring and unsexy like world domination, so it was probably time for him to put his lamp in the gym bag of one of the horny himbos Lars and Mr. Peters were fucking.

Idea with assistance from a bot of my creation.

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