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froody · 2 months ago

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TLDR: do not read a loved one’s diary.

During Hurricane Helene while the power was out, I was rummaging around in the garage looking for rechargeable battery packs. They happened to be housed in a plastic tote with a number of small notebooks. I decided to take the notebooks and look through them while I sat in my car waiting for my phone (and power bank) to charge. They were mostly blank. Some were mine.

One was my mother’s therapy notes from 2016. I should have closed it and put it back when I noticed what it was. I wish I had. I didn’t. I read it. I’m fucking evil. I invaded her privacy and I read it. Most of it was things I knew she had thought and felt at the time but something hurt me. She called me selfish and self-centered several times. This wouldn’t bother me if she was calling 2024 me selfish/self-centered but I was a SUICIDAL FIFTEEN YEAR OLD at the time.

I spent the ages 12 to 18 essentially locked in my room. My parents had an extremely toxic relationship and whenever I left my room, I ended up in the middle of their arguments trying to mediate and trying to get my mom to leave my father. When I was 13, I remember her busting down my door to take my phone to call her boyfriend because my father had taken her keys and her phone and she had no way to escape the house because we lived in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors. She left that night and LEFT ME WITH HIM.

I didn’t leave my room because my parents would both get drunk and scream at each other and my dad would PUT HIS HANDS ON HER IN FRONT OF ME.

I begged her to leave him for years. I begged. She kept going back. She finally left him when I was 14 but by then I was already traumatized, actively suicidal and failing school due to the stress at home and my worsening mental health. She was not good with my suicidal ideations and spiraling mental health. She didn’t neglect me medically, I saw several different physiatrists and therapists and was on so many psychiatric medications that I cannot remember what I’ve tried and what worked and what didn’t. But whenever I reached out for help, looked to her for support, told her I was suicidal or too anxious to leave the house, she treated it like it was a manipulation tactic on my part. She treated me not like I was faking for attention but like I was faking to hurt HER. One time, when I was 14, I told her I was contemplating suicide and she DROVE AWAY AND LEFT ME ALONE IN OUR NEW HOUSE.

So I locked myself in my room and essentially greyrocked her. I didn’t listen to her problems anymore. I didn’t tell her my problems anymore. I told my problems to 20 and 30 somethings online on Skype and KIK. And she called me selfish and self-centered because I pulled away.

I understand she was an extremely emotionally injured, traumatized and abused woman but I was an extremely emotionally injured and traumatized child. A 15 year old child. A little boy who couldn’t trust and confide in either of his parents. But to her I was selfish and self-centered. Because I did not want to play psychiatrist anymore.

Our relationship only really improved in senior year/into my adulthood. My mental health improved and I learned to cope a little better. I still keep an element of emotional shallowness between us but we don’t fight anymore. I love my mom. I have no doubt my mom loves me. I just cannot trust her with my mental health. That’s okay.

But reading her therapy notes, which I only saw because my ass was snooping and violated her privacy, reopened some horribly healed wound within me and I’ve felt myself disconnect from her again? I don’t know how to explain it. I felt it but I don’t think I really realized what it was until she broke her foot on my birthday while I was home alone an hour and a half away. It’s like this emptiness. I’m struggling to respond to her texts and show appropriate concern and love and pour from that glass within me. I’ve withdrawn back into that snail shell, back into the safety of my own little sphere. And it shouldn’t be something I take out on her. All because I’m hurt by something she felt/wrote 8 years ago, something deeply personal that she expressed privately to a therapist and in her journal. Something I shouldn’t have read. This is so fucked up. I’m so beyond fucked up. I hate myself.

#suicide /#abuse /#< tags are about events long in the past #will be deleting this shortly I just don’t have anyone to share it with

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upon-a-starry-night · 1 year ago

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Christmas Tree Trouble (Spencer)

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Ficmas Masterlist Spencer Masterlist

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: You need a bit of help getting your Christmas tree into your apartment so you ask your neighbor for help

A/n: The beginning is the same but differs per character

~~~

You weren’t expecting much when you knocked on your neighbor's door for help with your 8ft Christmas tree. Honestly, you weren’t even sure if they would help. You knew they were home. You’d heard the door across the hall open and shut enough times throughout the week to know they went on a lot of odd grocery runs at 1 am.

But you’d never really spoken much, a few times at community functions and when you’d see each other in the hall but neither of you made an effort to talk to each other. However, that was mainly because you were intimidated by how attractive they were.

Still, they had seemed more on the reserved side. Never bringing anyone home or throwing parties at their place. They were a perfect neighbor on paper, but their loneliness often made you sad.

Initially, you had wanted to invite them over at some point during the holidays just to make a new friend and help them be less lonely but it became more of a need than a want when you tried to lug your 8ft tree into your apartment by yourself.

So you knocked on their door across the hall and prayed that they would be willing to help you out.

You rocked back and forth on your heels as you waited for a response, just as you were about to give up and turn to ask another neighbor the sound of locks clicking alerted you of their presence.

When the door opened you observed their tired-looking figure, they were dressed in casual gray sweats and a loose T-shirt.

They stared at you curiously as you stood there before their eyes drifted behind you to the large tree lying on the floor in front of your apartment door. They raised their eyebrows in surprise.

“Hi!” you waved awkwardly “Listen I know this is random and you’re probably busy so you can say no but I kind of underestimated how hard it would be to get this tree in my apartment and I already had to carry this from my car to here and I scared a bunch of people out of the elevator because this thing took up the whole elevator and-” You stopped rambling when you saw a hint of a smile on their face, you think this is the first time you’ve ever seen them smile.

It’s cute.

“Sorry, what I’m saying is, can you help me?” You anxiously bit your lip as you waited for a response.

His hair's a little disheveled and you can’t help but watch as he runs a hand through it.

You silently observe as his gaze flickers to your tree and then back towards you a few times

“Did you know there are approximately 25-30 million Real Christmas Trees sold in the U.S. every year?”

The fact throws you off guard and you find yourself blinking owlishly before finally processing his words

“Really?” you genuinely had no idea they sold that many. Guess the Christmas tree farms in Hallmark movies must be making bank every year. “This is my first year ever having a real tree so…”

You underestimated just how tall and heavy this tree was going to be. It was so much easier to order one online and assemble it yourself piece by piece.

But you told yourself you were getting a real one in true Christmas fashion…only now you were starting to regret not taking up the farm owner's offer to send his son with you to help. Y’know stranger danger and all that.

However, asking your neighbor you’ve never really met could also be classified as stranger danger.

Your brain wasn’t currently thinking logically though so here you are in front of his apartment sizing him up as you realize he might not even be able to help you either.

Sure he was tall and handsome and you knew he had some kind of job that had him rushing out of the house at odd hours but looking at him now you wondered if you could carry more weight than him…

He seemed to come to that exact conclusion at the same time as you as he cringed a little bit and seemed to almost droop.

He reminded you of a sad flower or a wounded puppy. It made you want to hug him.

“I don’t know if I’m the best person for that- I have this friend I could probably call him to come and help-”

You would have to look up if you had Alien Hand Syndrome when you got the chance because involuntarily you reach out and grip his arm as he turns to go back into his apartment. The action seems to startle the both of you and you quickly retreat your hand.

“I’m sorry! I just- I don’t need your friend. Between you and me I think we could make this work”

In any other context, that sentence feels like it belongs in a romance movie and you subconsciously check the hallways for a camera crew and boom mic.

Green-ish-brown eyes bore into yours and you get the feeling he’s searching for something. For what you have no idea but he seems to have liked whatever he found because a brief smile slips onto his face as he observes your nervous stature.

“Let me change real quick and then we’ll see if we can ‘make this work’” You want to cringe at his blatant tease over your cheesy choice of words but you don’t get the chance to because he’s already turning and shutting the door behind him.

You swear you saw a little bit of a smirk when he teased you but it could have been a trick of the light.

Your landlord really needed to change that flickering bulb

In the meantime, you manage to stand the tree up all by itself and lean it against the wall and you’re quite proud of yourself until it moves an inch.

Again it could be a trick of the light, at least you hope it is because if this thing fell you were definitely getting crushed like a Christmas movie villain.

Much to your dismay the tree begins to slide again and you shut your eyes and prepare for the worst as the fluffy green mass begins to fall in your direction.

When the feeling of being crushed never comes you open your eyes and watch as the tree hits the floor with a final ‘thump’

Only now do you notice the feeling of something warm against your back. You thought maybe that was just what the hallway carpet felt like.

Looking down you notice two arms wrapped around your middle, and you’re currently standing two feet away from where you were when you closed your eyes.

You hadn’t even felt yourself move?

Looking up you’re met again with those enchanting eyes as they meet yours with concern.

“You changed your hair” You can’t help but frown at his hairs now-styled state. You kinda liked the disheveled sleepy look he was sporting.

Your neighbor lets out a laugh and you feel it against your back, you blush as you remember how close you two are. As embarrassing as it is to have to be saved from a falling Christmas tree you don’t feel like leaving his arms quite yet.

Unfortunately, that decision gets made for you as your handsome neighbor removes his arms and yet again runs a hand through his hair.

A nervous tick perhaps.

Either way, it was cute and you smiled when it messed up his perfectly tailored mane.

“That’s the first thing you think of after I saved you from getting crushed by a tree?”

His goofy smile makes you want to melt and you’re mentally snapping a million pictures.

Normally when you see him he’s either rushing to leave his apartment with heavy eye bags or leaning his head against his apartment door with heavy eye bags.

You’re not used to seeing him look so happy and it’s doing things to your insides.

“Right I guess thanks are in order since you saved my life and all”

A contemplative look takes over his face and you watch his adams apple bob in hesitation. It’s only now that you realize he changed out of his T-shirt and sweats and into a pair of comfortable slacks and a Christmas sweater. It’s green red and white and the tiny reindeer on it make you giggle a little. You briefly wonder if he got it as a gift from a partner and the thought quickly wipes all the joy from your face.

“Technically you wouldn’t have died. I mean a tree this height and weight could possibly do some damage, especially to someone of a smaller stature but it would likely only result in some external bruising. Internal if it landed the wrong way and possible head trauma depending on how you landed when you hit the ground.”

Your eyes go wide as he explains the different injuries you could have acquired. You’re not sure how he knows all of this but you’d probably let him talk about anything for however long he wanted just to hear his voice.

“Well then I guess I really should thank you, Lord knows how insufferable I’d be if I got any bruising or head trauma”

The two of you smile at each other and you nearly get lost in the moment until the light flickers and it pulls you out of your daze. Your attention turns back to the tree and you rub your hands together to try and get them ready for another attempt at lifting the tree.

“Well then- shall we get to it?”

You turn back to your neighbor and he nods his head and joins you next to the tree. As the two of you are lifting it you’re surprised at how light the tree becomes with his help. Once the tree is leaning against the wall again you turn to him with a satisfied smile and raise an eyebrow in question

“What did you say your name was again?”

He turns to look at you and his head tilts slightly to the right. Again- puppy dog.

“Spencer, or Reid if you want. What’s yours?”

You give him your name and he mutters it like he’s testing the way it sounds on his tongue. Both of you seem to conclude that you like the way it sounds.

Twenty minutes and a lot of twisting and pivoting and sweating later the blasted tree is finally inside of your apartment. Somehow amidst all the commotion, you ended up on the ground in a heap of exhaustion, staring up at the ceiling and cursing the tree Gods.

“Well, it seems we ‘made it work’ after all” That sentence sounds a lot like the beginning of a goodbye and you’re not quite ready to say goodbye to your new friend Spencer so you swiftly hop to your feet and begin making your way to your kitchen.

“Well I think I owe you some hot chocolate after all that”

You don’t have to turn around to feel how hesitant Spencer is as he stands in your living room.

“You really don’t have to-”

You turn to him appalled, giving him your best ‘Are you kidding me?�� look

“Spencer, you saved my life out there! The least I could do is give you some hot chocolate”

His lips twitch up into a smile and you try not to fist pump as you realize he’s not saying no

While you make the hot chocolate Spencer peruses around your apartment observing every little detail like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. You hope to all Gods that you didn't leave out anything embarrassing.

As you make the finishing touches (whipped cream and candy canes are a must) you become curious at the sound of shuffling behind you, and when you turn around you nearly melt at the sight of Spencer setting up your Christmas tree in the corner.

God, why hadn’t you talked with your cute neighbor sooner?

“Oh! Spencer you didn’t have to do that”

He shrugs as you approach him and thanks you as you hand him his mug of hot chocolate. He takes a sip and hums approvingly. You try not to let it go to your ego.

The two of you stand there sipping on your drinks and admiring your hard work when you turn to one of the many open boxes in your living room full to the brim with decorations.

“So green and white or red and white?” You question as you stare at the colorful ornaments inquisitively.

You swivel around and are met with Spencer's smirking face once again

“Why not all three?”

~~~~

Decorating the tree with Spencer is both fun and frustrating. Apparently, he doesn’t get why you keep moving some of the ornaments he’s placing. You keep trying to explain to him that he’s putting them too close together.

“There’s a system with Christmas tree’s you know”

You tried to explain it but Spencer was a hopeless case when it came to decorating it seemed.

You’d left him to his own devices for three seconds and came back to three red ornaments in the same vicinity. You nearly had a heart attack. Spencer needed a Christmas miracle.

“Look Spence, You’ve got to place it…”

You came up behind him as he was placing another ornament too close to the other. Wrapping your arms around his in a similar way to what he did in the hallway you began guiding his arms to a better spot for the shiny ball.

“Riiiiiight here”

Even after the ornament was placed the two of you stayed in the same position, arms still reaching out towards the tree. If you looked close enough you would see his ears were turning red.

You quickly cleared your throat and removed your arms, Pivoting and heading for the kitchen. Unable to look him in the eyes.

“So- refills anyone?” You attempted a joke but were met with silence, and a glance back at Spencer showed him staring at the tree in a trance. You furrowed your brows.

Slowly you approached him and tapped him on the shoulder, the hitch of his breath the only indication that he acknowledged your presence.

“Look Spencer, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable…”

His gaze snapped to yours, his body finally regaining its functions.

“No, it’s not that it’s just-” He nervously fiddles with his hands “Normally I’m not a physical touch person”

Guilt flooded your system and you unconsciously took a step away from him “Oh.. I’m sorry I-”

Warm hands reached out and latched onto you “No!” He flinched at how loud that came out “No- what I was saying was, normally I’m not but with you, it doesn’t feel so bad. You’re very…warm”

You had a feeling he meant it in more than just a physical way.

A shy smile slipped onto your face at the confession and you found yourself blushing once again.

“You’re warm too Spencer”

His smile mirrored yours.

“Hey, I was wondering- You can say no but there’s this Christmas movie festival at the park next weekend. I know we only just met but I’d really like to hang out with you more.” His hesitancy was cute, you could tell he didn’t have a lot of practice at asking women out but it was still charming and adorable nonetheless.

“I’d love to go Spencer”

He beamed.

“Great. That’s- that’s great”

You looked over your beautifully decorated tree. Admiring the way the greens reds and whites complimented each other. The way the lights reflected on them and made the room light up in colorful circles.

The way Spencer looked as the soft Christmas lights accentuated his soft features.

Thank God you decided to buy a real tree instead of piecing together a fake one.

Who knows if you would have gotten to know Spencer otherwise.

The thought made you upset so instead, you grabbed Spencer's hand and led him toward the kitchen

“C’mon, we’ve got popcorn garlands to make. The decorating is far from over”

His hand grasps yours tighter and he nods. Bright smiles never leaving either of your faces.

A/n: First Spencer one shot!!! how do we like it?~ Starry

#fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #fluff fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #upon a starry night writes #fic masterlist #christmas fic #ficmas 2023 #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x gn!reader

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months ago

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Twinkfrump Linkdump

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in CHICAGO (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Welcome to the seventeenth Pluralistic linkdump, a collection of all the miscellany that didn't make it into the week's newsletter, cunningly wrought together in a single edition that ranges from the first ISP to AI nonsense to labor organizing victories to the obituary of a brilliant scientist you should know a lot more about! Here's the other 16 dumps:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

If you're reading this (and you are!), it was delivered to you by an internet service provider. Today, the ISP industry is calcified, controlled by a handful of telcos and cable companies. But the idea of an "ISP" didn't come out of a giant telecommunications firm – it was created, in living memory, by excellent nerds who are still around.

Depending on how you reckon, The Little Garden was either the first or the second ISP in America. It was named after a Palo Alto Chinese restaurant frequented by its founders. To get a sense of that founding, read these excellent recollections by Tom Jennings, whose contributions include the seminal zine Homocore, the seminal networking protocol Fidonet, and the seminal third-party PC ROM, whence came Dell, Gateway, Compaq, and every other "PC clone" company.

The first installment describes how an informal co-op to network a few friends turned into a business almost by accident, with thousands of dollars flowing in and out of Jennings' bank account:

https://www.sensitiveresearch.com/Archive/TLG/TLG.html

And it describes how that ISP set a standard for neutrality, boldly declaring that "TLGnet exercises no control whatsoever over the content of the information." They introduced an idea of radical transparency, documenting their router configurations and other technical details and making them available to the public. They hired unskilled punk and queer kids from their communities and trained them to operate the network equipment they'd invented, customized or improvised.

In part two, Jennings talks about the evolution of TLG's radical business-plan: to offer unrestricted service, encouraging their customers to resell that service to people in their communities, having no lock-in, unbundling extra services including installation charges – the whole anti-enshittification enchilada:

https://www.sensitiveresearch.com/Archive/TLG/

I love Jennings and his work. I even gave him a little cameo in Picks and Shovels, the third Martin Hench novel, which will be out next winter. He's as lyrical a writer about technology as you could ask for, and he's also a brilliant engineer and thinker.

The Little Garden's founders and early power-users have all fleshed out Jennings' account of the birth of ISPs. Writing on his blog, David "DSHR" Rosenthal rounds up other histories from the likes of EFF co-founder John Gilmore and Tim Pozar:

https://blog.dshr.org/2024/04/the-little-garden.html

Rosenthal describes some of the more exotic shenanigans TLG got up to in order to do end-runs around the Bell system's onerous policies, hacking in the purest sense of the word, for example, by daisy-chaining together modems in regions with free local calling and then making "permanent local calls," with the modems staying online 24/7.

Enshittification came to the ISP business early and hit it hard. The cartel that controls your access to the internet today is a billion light-years away from the principled technologists who invented the industry with an ethos of care, access and fairness. Today's ISPs are bitterly opposed to Net Neutrality, the straightforward proposition that if you request some data, your ISP should send it to you as quickly and reliably as it can.

Instead, ISPs want to offer "slow-lanes" where they will relegate the whole internet, except for those companies that bribe the ISP to be delivered at normal speed. ISPs have a laughably transparent way of describing this: they say that they're allowing services to pay for "fast lanes" with priority access. This is the same as the giant grocery store that charges you extra unless you surrender your privacy with a "loyalty card" – and then says that they're offering a "discount" for loyal customers, rather than charging a premium to customers who don't want to be spied on.

The American business lobby loves this arrangement, and hates Net Neutrality. Having monopolized every sector of our economy, they are extremely fond of "winner take all" dynamics, and that's what a non-neutral ISP delivers: the biggest services with the deepest pockets get the most reliable delivery, which means that smaller services don't just have to be better than the big guys, they also have to be able to outbid them for "priority carriage."

If everything you get from your ISP is slow and janky, except for the dominant services, then the dominant services can skimp on quality and pocket the difference. That's the goal of every monopolist – not just to be too big to fail, but also too big to care.

Under the Trump administration, FCC chair Ajit Pai dismantled the Net Neutrality rule, colluding with American big business to rig the process. They accepted millions of obviously fake anti-Net Neutrality comments (one million identical comments from @pornhub.com addresses, comments from dead people, comments from sitting US Senators who support Net Neutrality) and declared open season on American internet users:

https://ag.ny.gov/press-release/2021/attorney-general-james-issues-report-detailing-millions-fake-comments-revealing

Now, Biden's FCC is set to reinstate Net Neutrality – but with a "compromise" that will make mobile internet (which nearly all of use sometimes, and the poorest of us are reliant on) a swamp of anticompetitive practices:

https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2024/04/harmful-5g-fast-lanes-are-coming-fcc-needs-stop-them

Under the proposed rule, mobile carriers will be able to put traffic to and from apps in the slow lane, and then extort bribes from preferred apps for normal speed and delivery. They'll rely on parts of the 5G standard to pull off this trick.

The ISP cartel and the FCC insist that this is fine because web traffic won't be degraded, but of course, every service is hellbent on pushing you into using apps instead of the web. That's because the web is an open platform, which means you can install ad- and privacy-blockers. More than half of web users have installed a blocker, making it the largest boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

But reverse-engineering and modding an app is a legal minefield. Just removing the encryption from an app can trigger criminal penalties under Section 1201 of the DMCA, carrying a five-year prison sentence and a $500k fine. An app is just a web-page skinned in enough IP that it's a felony to mod it.

Apps are enshittification's vanguard, and the fact that the FCC has found a way to make them even worse is perversely impressive. They're voting on this on April 25, and they have until April 24 to fix this. They should. They really should:

https://docs.fcc.gov/public/attachments/DOC-401676A1.pdf

In a just world, cheating ripoff ISPs would the top tech policy story. The operational practices of ISPs effect every single one us. We literally can't talk about tech policy without ISPs in the middle. But Net Neutrality is an also-ran in tech policy discourse, while AI – ugh ugh ugh – is the thing none of us can shut up about.

This, despite the fact that the most consequential AI applications sum up to serving as a kind of moral crumple-zone for shitty business practices. The point of AI isn't to replace customer service and other low-paid workers who have taken to demanding higher wages and better conditions – it's to fire those workers and replace them with chatbots that can't do their jobs. An AI salesdroid can't sell your boss a bot that can replace you, but they don't need to. They only have to convince your boss that the bot can do your job, even if it can't.

SF writer Karl Schroeder is one of the rare sf practitioners who grapples seriously with the future, a "strategic foresight" guy who somehow skirts the bullshit that is the field's hallmark:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/07/the-gernsback-continuum/#wheres-my-jetpack

Writing on his blog, Schroeder describes the AI debates roiling the Association of Professional Futurists, and how it's sucking him into being an unwilling participant in the AI hype cycle:

https://kschroeder.substack.com/p/dragged-into-the-ai-hype-cycle

Schroeder's piece is a thoughtful meditation on the relationship of SF's thought-experiments and parables about AI to the promises of AI hucksters, who promise that a) "general artificial intelligence" is just around the corner and that b) it will be worth trillions of dollars.

Schroeder – like other sf writers including Ted Chiang and Charlie Stross (and me) – comes to the conclusion that AI panic isn't about AI, it's about power. The artificial life-form devouring the planet and murdering our species is the limited liability corporation, and its substrate isn't silicon, it's us, human bodies:

What’s lying underneath all our anxieties about AGI is an anxiety that has nothing to do with Artificial Intelligence. Instead, it’s a manifestation of our growing awareness that our world is being stolen from under us. Last year’s estimate put the amount of wealth currently being transferred from the people who made it to an idle billionaire class at $5.2 trillion. Artificial General Intelligence whose environment is the server farms and sweatshops of this class is frightening only because of its capacity to accelerate this greatest of all heists.

After all, the business-case for AI is so very thin that the industry can only survive on a torrent of hype and nonsense – like claims that Amazon's "Grab and Go" stores used "AI" to monitor shoppers and automatically bill them for their purchases. In reality, the stores used thousands of low-paid Indian workers to monitor cameras and manually charge your card. This happens so often that Indian technologists joke that "AI" stands for "absent Indians":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

Isn't it funny how all the really promising AI applications are in domains that most of us aren't qualified to assess? Like the claim that Google's AI was producing millions of novel materials that will shortly revolutionize all forms of production, from construction to electronics to medical implants:

https://deepmind.google/discover/blog/millions-of-new-materials-discovered-with-deep-learning/

That's what Google's press-release claimed, anyway. But when two groups of experts actually pulled a representative sample of these "new materials" from the Deep Mind database, they found that none of these materials qualified as "credible, useful and novel":

https://pubs.acs.org/doi/10.1021/acs.chemmater.4c00643

Writing about the researchers' findings for 404 Media, Jason Koebler cites Berkeley researchers who concluded that "no new materials have been discovered":

https://www.404media.co/google-says-it-discovered-millions-of-new-materials-with-ai-human-researchers/

The researchers say that AI data-mining for new materials is promising, but falls well short of Google's claim to be so transformative that it constitutes the "equivalent to nearly 800 years’ worth of knowledge" and "an order-of-magnitude expansion in stable materials known to humanity."

AI hype keeps the bubble inflating, and for so long as it keeps blowing up, all those investors who've sunk their money into AI can tell themselves that they're rich. This is the essence of "a bezzle": "The magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it":

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

Among the best debezzlers of AI are the Princeton Center for Information Technology Policy's Arvind Narayanan and Sayash Kapoor, who edit the "AI Snake Oil" blog. Now, they've sold a book with the same title:

https://www.aisnakeoil.com/p/ai-snake-oil-is-now-available-to

Obviously, books move a lot more slowly than blogs, and so Narayanan and Kapoor say their book will focus on the timeless elements of identifying and understanding AI snake oil:

In the book, we explain the crucial differences between types of AI, why people, companies, and governments are falling for AI snake oil, why AI can’t fix social media, and why we should be far more worried about what people will do with AI than about anything AI will do on its own. While generative AI is what drives press, predictive AI used in criminal justice, finance, healthcare, and other domains remains far more consequential in people’s lives. We discuss in depth how predictive AI can go wrong. We also warn of the dangers of a world where AI continues to be controlled by largely unaccountable big tech companies.

The book's out in September and it's up for pre-order now:

https://bookshop.org/p/books/ai-snake-oil-what-artificial-intelligence-can-do-what-it-can-t-and-how-to-tell-the-difference-arvind-narayanan/21324674

One of the weirder and worst side-effects of the AI hype bubble is that it has revived the belief that it's somehow possible for giant platforms to monitor all their users' speech and remove "harmful" speech. We've tried this for years, and when humans do it, it always ends with disfavored groups being censored, while dedicated trolls, harassers and monsters evade punishment:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/07/como-is-infosec/

AI hype has led policy-makers to believe that we can deputize online services to spy on all their customers and block the bad ones without falling into this trap. Canada is on the verge of adopting Bill C-63, a "harmful content" regulation modeled on examples from the UK and Australia.

Writing on his blog, Canadian lawyer/activist/journalist Dimitri Lascaris describes the dire speech implications for C-63:

https://dimitrilascaris.org/2024/04/08/trudeaus-online-harms-bill-threatens-free-speech/

It's an excellent legal breakdown of the bill's provisions, but also a excellent analysis of how those provisions are likely to play out in the lives of Canadians, especially those advocating against genocide and taking other positions the that oppose the agenda of the government of the day.

Even if you like the Trudeau government and its policies, these powers will accrue to every Canadian government, including the presumptive (and inevitably, totally unhinged) near-future Conservative majority government of Pierre Poilievre.

It's been ten years since Martin Gilens and Benjamin I Page published their paper that concluded that governments make policies that are popular among elites, no matter how unpopular they are among the public:

https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/perspectives-on-politics/article/testing-theories-of-american-politics-elites-interest-groups-and-average-citizens/62327F513959D0A304D4893B382B992B

Now, this is obviously depressing, but when you see it in action, it's kind of wild. The Biden administration has declared war on junk fees, from "resort fees" charged by hotels to the dozens of line-items added to your plane ticket, rental car, or even your rent check. In response, Republican politicians are climbing to their rear haunches and, using their actual human mouths, defending junk fees:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-04-12-republicans-objectively-pro-junk-fee/

Congressional Republicans are hell-bent on destroying the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau's $8 cap on credit-card late-fees. Trump's presumptive running-mate Tim Scott is making this a campaign plank: "Vote for me and I will protect your credit-card company's right to screw you on fees!" He boasts about the lobbyists who asked him to take this position: champions of the public interest from the Consumer Bankers Association to the US Chamber of Commerce.

Banks stand to lose $10b/year from this rule (which means Americans stand to gain $10b/year from this rule). What's more, Scott's attempt to kill the rule is doomed to fail – there's just no procedural way it will fly. As David Dayen writes, "Not only does this vote put Republicans on the spot over junk fees, it’s a doomed vote, completely initiated by their own possible VP nominee."

This is an hilarious own-goal, one that only brings attention to a largely ignored – but extremely good – aspect of the Biden administration. As Adam Green of Bold Progressives told Dayen, "What’s been missing is opponents smoking themselves out and raising the volume of this fight so the public knows who is on their side."

The CFPB is a major bright spot in the Biden administration's record. They're doing all kind of innovative things, like making it easy for you to figure out which bank will give you the best deal and then letting you transfer your account and all its associated data, records and payments with a single click:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/21/let-my-dollars-go/#personal-financial-data-rights

And now, CFPB chair Rohit Chopra has given a speech laying out the agency's plan to outlaw data-brokers:

https://www.consumerfinance.gov/about-us/newsroom/prepared-remarks-of-cfpb-director-rohit-chopra-at-the-white-house-on-data-protection-and-national-security/

Yes, this is some good news! There is, in fact, good news in the world, bright spots amidst all the misery and terror. One of those bright spots? Labor.

Unions are back, baby. Not only do the vast majority of Americans favor unions, not only are new shops being unionized at rates not seen in generations, but also the largest unions are undergoing revolutions, with control being wrestled away from corrupt union bosses and given to the rank-and-file.

Many of us have heard about the high-profile victories to take back the UAW and Teamsters, but I hadn't heard about the internal struggles at the United Food and Commercial Workers, not until I read Hamilton Nolan's gripping account for In These Times:

https://inthesetimes.com/article/revolt-aisle-5-ufcw-grocery-workers-union

Nolan profiles Faye Guenther, president of UFCW Local 3000 and her successful and effective fight to bring a militant spirit back to the union, which represents a million grocery workers. Nolan describes the fight as "every bit as dramatic as any episode of Game of Thrones," and he's not wrong. This is an inspiring tale of working people taking power away from scumbag monopoly bosses and sellout fatcat leaders – and, in so doing, creating a institution that gets better wages, better working conditions, and a better economy, by helping to block giant grocery mergers like Kroger/Albertsons.

I like to end these linkdumps on an up note, so it feels weird to be closing out with an obituary, but I'd argue that any celebration of the long life and many accomplishments of my friend and mentor Anne Innis Dagg is an "up note."

I last wrote about Anne in 2020, on the release of a documentary about her work, "The Woman Who Loved Giraffes":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/19/pluralist-19-feb-2020/#annedagg

As you might have guessed from the title of that doc, Anne was a biologist. She was the first woman scientist to do field-work on giraffes, and that work was so brilliant and fascinating that it kicked off the modern field of giraffology, which remains a woman-dominated specialty thanks to her tireless mentoring and support for the scientists that followed her.

Anne was also the world's most fearsome slayer of junk-science "evolutionary psychology," in which "scientists" invent unfalsifiable just-so stories that prove that some odious human characteristic is actually "natural" because it can be found somewhere in the animal kingdom (i.e., "Darling, please, it's not my fault that I'm fucking my grad students, it's the bonobos!").

Anne wrote a classic – and sadly out of print – book about this that I absolutely adore, not least for having one of the best titles I've ever encountered: "Love of Shopping" Is Not a Gene:

https://memex.craphound.com/2009/11/04/love-of-shopping-is-not-a-gene-exposing-junk-science-and-ideology-in-darwinian-psychology/

Anne was my advisor at the University of Waterloo, an institution that denied her tenure for fifty years, despite a brilliant academic career that rivaled that of her storied father, Harold Innis ("the thinking person's Marshall McLuhan"). The fact that Waterloo never recognized Anne is doubly shameful when you consider that she was awarded the Order of Canada:

https://nationalpost.com/news/canada/queen-of-giraffes-among-new-order-of-canada-recipients-with-global-influence

Anne lived a brilliant live, struggling through adversity, never compromising on her principles, inspiring a vast number of students and colleagues. She lived to ninety one, and died earlier this month. Her ashes will be spread "on the breeding grounds of her beloved giraffes" in South Africa this summer:

https://obituaries.therecord.com/obituary/anne-innis-dagg-1089534658

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/2024/04/13/goulash/#material-misstatement

Image: Valeva1010 https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hungarian_Goulash_Recipe.png

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

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

in the summer of this year, i (20) moved into an apartment with my partner (22) and our mutual friend (21, “Roommate”). we had all planned to move in together for two or three years prior, and it was finally happening. i was the one who secured the lease along with my partner, and our roommate moved in a month after us. the general agreement was that Roommate would get hired at my partner’s workplace, so all three of us can bear rent and utilities and whatnot.

instead, Roommate lived at our place for about three months, then suddenly left without giving us time to prepare. they told us a few days beforehand that they were contemplating leaving because they felt like a burden and an annoyance, and we were being unfair to them about their job situation. Partner and i reassured them that we rather they stay because we all planned to move out together for years now and we know Roommate hated living with their parents. plus, they were about to get a job, so they shouldnt leave. they left anyway. events of their time here listed below:

i pay their airplane ticket. $270. Roommate moves in. disaster already strikes. they had their parents mail all of their belongings to us rather than bringing suitcases on the plane. the shipping costs for their things are over $100 each per box (two), so Roommate is already in debt to their parents by the time they get here. the arrival of the boxes is inconvenient bc all three of us were away for the weekend, and when we came back, the delivery isnt at our door. Roommate essentially has no clothing because they didnt pack any extra clothes OR underwear in their one carry-on bag. Partner and i buy new underwear for them. two weeks later, the apartment front office tells us they have the boxes but they didnt pack any work clothes, so if they ever got a job, we also had to buy those!

when they moved in, they thought they had a guaranteed position at Partner’s workplace, and was waiting on my partner to help them with the work application. this took two, three weeks until i told them to just do the application by themself. they did, and the workplace never reached out back to them. so no job there. i got on their ass about the job frequently, and every time theyd tell me they were “waiting on Partner to help them”. atp, Partner was working full time hours and i had two jobs so we could afford rent.

they never thought they had to change banks when they moved here. it didnt even cross their mind until i brought it up. their card locked when they use it because theyre in a different state from their bank. they essentially had no access to their money for nearly the whole time they were here. again, i get on their ass about changing banks for weeks because i had to do that myself (also moved states), and they did eventually change banks but only a week before they moved back home. between me and my partner, we paid for their food and their portion of rent the whole time we were here.

when it turned out they werent getting hired at Partner’s workplace, Partner and i discussed getting a job at the local grocery chain. Partner had experience working there and knew itd be a good fit for them. they applied and after orientation day, they then proceed to drag their feet on the actual online training and spend two weeks completing what shouldve been six hours of online training tops. for a retail job. they were meticulously taking notes on all of the training lessons. i was pissed at them about this and blew up on them about how it absolutely shouldnt have taken that long. atp, my partner quit their job, Roommate’s stay was going on two months, and because of our financial arrangement, i had been paying rent by myself since we got the lease.

over their stay, my partner and i got increasingly frustrated with Roommate to the point of discussing them behind their back. we would talk about how long they were taking with their second job application or how they struggle with their hygiene or just how they annoyed us in general. like discord calling unmuted in the living room without warning us beforehand, not cleaning the toilet seat if they had left it soiled, washing the dishes poorly to the point that food was still stuck on them, etc. we had valid some concerns but i definitely just bitched about them. we did talk to them about some of our issues, like teaching them to wash the dishes right, sitting in their room to discord call, but i vented often about how immature and unprepared they were for the move, and faulted them for things that werent quite their fault.

eventually, Roommate informs us about how they have been feeling like we are annoyed with them and how they might have jumped the gun and moved out too early. Roommate is our friend, and atp they were about to actually get hired at their job, they were just waiting for a call back from the HR manager. ultimately we would rather Roommate stay with us because they’d be away from their family and they finally would have some independence with their job. we said we’d let them slep on it, but to please not leave or at least talk to us some more about it. a few days after we talk, i wake up to a text from Roommate that “their dad is here”. it turns out their dad drove the 8 hour drive to come pick them up and bring them home. they spent the morning of that day packing all of their things and then let their dad into the apartment without telling us beforehand. im pantless with a stranger in my fucking apartment. i spend the next 3 hours talking to their dad about how much they owe us in rent, expenses, and spending money, and trying to see if they can still stay. their dad says their mom demands them to come back home. after discussing how much they owe me, the two of them left. their dad would be paying me back the money, and they essentially got to stay here with us for the summer for free on their part.

aita for holding a grudge against them? i feel its hypocritical of me, especially because i actually treated them pretty poorly. because of how sheltered Roommate was, they would often ask questions about the most mundane and insignificant and common sense stuff, and i would get frustrated with them super easily. when they were filling out their work applications, they asked me whether they should work full time or part time hours. i had spent at least half an hour helping them fill in their basic information on the application, and i snapped at them that i literally couldnt decide that for them, they should figure out whether they can work full time or part time.

its been a month since, and its bothering me endlessly. their dad sent me a partial payment and nothing for the past three weeks, when we agreed he’d pay me back weekly. we’re STILL getting their mail and federal checks because they “couldnt get the website to work”, so i have to find time to mail their checks to them. something that could have been fix had they given me actual time to sort out their move instead of leaving without warning.

this was the first time ive ever had any independence. i moved away from a toxic family home myself, so i really wanted them to also stay away from their toxic family. so like was i somehow more toxic than their actual parents? i have an extremely short temper, so i definitely snapped at them and talked hella shit about them as time went on, but i was never violent to them and i tried my best to be civil and encouraging and supportive of them while handling two jobs and paying rent by myself. like, im the youngest, and i got the lease and was paying all of rent. i had changed banks and secured a job for myself before i had even landed in the state beforehand. like again, moving in together was The Plan we all had for the prior few years. i was super prepared, and it just seemed like Roommate didn’t really think about the logistics of moving in, just that omg yay they were moving in with their friends :). i dont know. theres a lot happening here.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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tinydickcdsissyslutsasha · 4 months ago

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In all honesty the whole supposed reason for tributes been showing commitment is a bunch of crap... cuz in all honesty any real dom women online looking for slave can surely see how bad scammers fakes frauds have flooded the kink of mistress an slave asking for tributes, or ID , or send codes, or wants bank login info so they can allegedly give me money, or if all that fails then if they acquire snuff info they begin to blackmail [that's when they reveal they aren't even a mistress. But instead usually they are blk Haitian/ African men when they call to blackmail]... they've gotten so bad that any domme should understand that tributes aren't possible now cuz of scammers.

Also, if it's a matter of money ... then domme could make me make adult content domme could sell online &/or domme could find men in my local area to pimp me out too for her financial gain!!!

In regards to showing commitment to serving domme , a tribute doesn't even show any kind of commitment, cuz the ones that do give tributes are use to giving out tributes to any domme that they find online , which shows they aren't loyal to serve 1 domme.

I'm sure there's many ways one can show commitment to serving domme... but the offer of commitment I would offer is at domes command, I would mail her the keys to my locked up chastity [not knowing if/ when I'll get the keys back to unlock self agsin]! Handing over ownership control of subs penis is ultimate commitment... 1 which a true domme would get more satisfaction an enjoyment from knowing she owns the genitals , rather than receiving money [unless that's tgere only intent is getting money from weak submissive]

#small dick humiliation #humiliated sissy #humiliation sissy #forced feminized #feminine sissy #castrated sissy #beta sissy #caged chastity #chasity #tributes #scammers #fakes

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raemanzu · 1 month ago

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Okay, story time, containing awkwardness of the closeted queer nerd variety. And the dangers of using weird passwords.

Picture this common frustration: I have been locked out of an important online account.

No, I don't remember what kind of account. It might have been an online banking account. Now I'm thinking it was probably my car insurance.

In any case. All I remember is that it was something very financially significant, and I NEEDED to get into that account, so I could pay an important bill or something, something time-sensitive.

Stress was high. I did not have very much money and did NOT want Collections to be called. I was also a very young adult.

This was back in the early 2010s at the latest. I had only lived outside of my childhood home for a year or three at most. In my outer life I was a quiet modest Mormon girl coping with living in a New Scary Liberal Place, insistent that I was definitely Not A Lesbian and had not left Utah because of being in love with my best friend, definitely not, we were just good friends.

And in my inner life I was an extremely confused repressed queer ace nonbinary person doing very whacky gay chat roleplays with my future QPP, who I was now living with at their parents' house, featuring many anime and JRPG-inspired OCs with various complicated relationships with sexuality or lack thereof, including some intersex boys who were basically sex slaves to a bunch of royal women.

What does all this have to do with getting locked out of my account?

Well, there was a moment when I called the customer help line hoping someone could get my account unlocked, and the guy on the other end asked me what my password was.

"Oh. Um." I paused for what felt like an embarrassingly long amount of time. I had a habit of using names or features of my OCs combined loosely with L337 speak to help me come up with unique but memorable passwords. "Uhhh, I'll just spell it. So it's the numeral zero. Capital W… lowercase o… m… e.. n…"

At this point my face is starting to get kind of hot.

"Number 4… m..e…" I finish in an awkward laugh.

"Okay, so just to check, it's 0, Women with a capital W, 4, me?"

"Yeah," I laugh again, realizing that the likelihood of the average person having at least one question about that password and what led to it, is pretty high actually. In my flustered state I may have even rushed to try and awkwardly explain "it's an inside joke!"

BUUut if I said that much, I hope I stopped at that point, instead of regaling this random man with even a brief summary of the story of a traumatized sex slave who was desperately afraid of being forced to please royal women in bed. (hmm I wonder if there are POSSIBLY any PARALLELS between this idea and my asexual nightmares about being forced to temple-marry a random dude… lol).

I'm not sure I DID actually stop there though because I'm the kind of socially awkward nerd who sometimes infodumps that kind of thing, like a missionary wanting everyone to hear the good news of My Amazing OCs which definitely are just quirky because I'm So Creative, they have nothing to do with my Inner Identity Crisis. Even more so back then. (I'm a TINY bit more self aware now).

I don't remember what the guy said, if anything. But I was dying inside, wondering if this random man was constructing an entire narrative in his head around this poor technologically challenged closet lesbian. I may have even said that I had "moved in with my best friend" when I gave my updated address, because this account was based in Utah rather than Washington. Which is even more incriminating.

In any case, some part of my brain was convinced he was onto me.

Because I just had to go and use a weird awkward in-joke as a password.

Luckily, he didn't ask any more questions (out loud). Maybe he forgot about it all right away. I got access to my account restored, and immediately changed my password to something safe and completely indecipherable.

But yeah, 10+ years later, me and Cal still laugh about the 0Women4me incident. Still definitely not a lesbian, but for different much more queer reasons.

#rae blahblahblahs #I hope someone out there finds this funny #exmormon

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 months ago

Text

Halt & Catch Fire: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: You're done being a puppet in their plans. You're done letting them control you. You're finally going to take back your life by becoming something you didn't know was possible. your eyes are opened to something better and God forbid anyone who disrespects you.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

Dean locks up behind Sam and Delilah yarns tiredly.

"You getting tired?"

"No, I'm used to it. I stay up all night studying. It is mostly to avoid the nightmares. My mom's thrilled with my GPA, but I'm just miserable. I think about Andrew all the time, and I've never even met the guy."

"This is what you get for leaving the scene of a crime. Idiotic move is what it was."

"Watch it," Dean glares at you but you flip him off.

"It's pretty crazy to obsess over someone you've never met."

"It's not that crazy. The truth is, I can relate. I have made more mistakes than I can count. Ones that haunt me day and night." He immediately turns to you. "I don't need to hear it."

You put your arms up in defense and turn away from him.

"How do you deal?" Delilah asks.

"Whiskey. Denial. I do my best to make things right, whatever that may be. For you, maybe it's coming clean. You know, finding a way to ask for forgiveness and not breaking the bank at your local florist. I mean real forgiveness. You can't just bury stuff like this. You have to deal with it." His phone rings and he picks up Sam's call. "What do you have?"

"Dean, Andrew's not using power lines to move. He's using Wi-Fi."

"Come again?"

"The wires that electrocuted Andrew feed directly into a Wi-Fi tower right across the street."

"Even ghosts are online?"

"Apparently. It would explain the truck kill. Billy's cell must have been using the local Wi-Fi signal so Andrew's ghost must have just hopped on to Trini, the navigation app."

"Julie's death was by computer and Kyle's death was by stereo with wireless speakers."

"It makes sense, Dean. We're all just a bunch of electrical impulses, right? Whenever Andrew died, his impulses just transferred to another current. You got to get Delilah somewhere safe. Turn off all the routers in that Sorority."

"Yeah, sure, Sammy. We'll just kill the internet. Wait, can we?"

"No," you roll your eyes.

"Alright, how the hell are we gonna deal with the lawnmower man?"

"I have an idea. Do what I said. Stay safe. I'll call you back."

"Do you know where the routers are?" Dean asks when Sam hangs up.

"I have no idea."

Suddenly, the lights and her computer start flashing on and off. Looks like Andrew is here to play. Delilah is the last one. It gets so cold in the room that you can see your breath. Andrew's face, albeit burnt, appears on all electronic devices that connect to the internet. Delilah screams just as Dean starts smashing the devices one by one.

"Is that gonna work?"

"It's worth a try. I need you to turn off everything that's connected to Wi-Fi." Dean takes Delilah's phone and smashes both his and hers. "Give me your phone."

"Come on, this is the new one," you complain. Dean yanks it from your hand and smashes it. "You're getting me a new one.

"Fine. Let's go."

"Where are we going?"

You leave her dorm room and see Andrew showing up on every computer screen that you pass by. He won't let Delilah out of his sight.

"Someplace that doesn't have a Wi-Fi signal."

"Head to the basement. The reception sucks down there."

"Alright, go, go, go!"

When you finally get to the basement, Dean starts to salt the doors and windows.

"I thought the salt didn't work."

"Because of the Wi-Fi. There's no signal down here. There are no computers, tablets, or cell phones. Andrew can't bypass it. At least, I don't think he can. Just try to stay calm, alright?" Suddenly, something starts buzzing in the room. It sounds like a phone that's on vibrate. "What was that?"

"Sounds like a phone to me," you say.

Dean shoves his hands under the couch cushions only to find someone's cell phone in there. Andrew uses this to appear in the room so he can take vengeance on Delilah in person. Delilah screams and you turn to see Andrew in the room next to her. Dean approaches Andrew from behind but he smacks Dean into the pillar as hard as he can.

"Please don't kill me. We didn't mean to hurt you. It was an accident. I swear. If I could do it over again, I would have done the right thing!"

Andrew grabs Delilah's throat and starts to choke her out. You stand there and watch this happen for five seconds before Dean screams your name.

"Y/N!" You grab the iron poker and swing it through his body until he disappears and Delilah is saved. "Let's go."

"Where?"

The door is locked so there is no way of getting out of here if the ghost is using its powers on the door.

"Andrew, listen to me. You have every right to be pissed." Dean takes the cell phone he found and dials a message to Sam. "Take it from me, the more you kill, the crazier you'll get. The blood fuels the rage. So, it looks like to me you've got two choices. You can keep killing and become something that you won't recognize or you can move on cause that is the only thing that is gonna give you peace. So it's up to you, man. Pain or peace."

Andrew appears behind Dean and shoves him into the closet door, breaking it into pieces. He turns to Delilah but you speak up before he can hurt her.

"Some ghost you are," you scoff and he looks at you. "Getting revenge on kids? Lame." He goes after you but you duck out of the way easily. "Death by electrocution? Lame! Maybe it sparked some life into you."

Andrew appears in front of you and slams you against the wall. He wraps his hands around your throat, pushing the device further into your neck. Maybe he might be able to get it off for you. You're not scared of Andrew but you do become concerned at the thought of him killing you.

Thankfully, you don't have to know the answer to that because his wife's voice fills the room. You and Andrew look at Delilah who has the phone in her hand which has his wife's face on it. Sam must have FaceTimed to get her to speak to Andrew.

"Andrew? It's Corey. Please listen to me. You have to stop this. Revenge is hollow, and it's pointless. It won't bring you back. I should have said this earlier but I couldn't let go. Now, it's time for me to let go and for you to do the same. Please. I'm begging you." Andrew lets you go and turns to her. "Do this for me. Do it for us." He nods slightly. "Goodbye."

Apparently, this is enough for Andrew to find peace. He closes his eyes and disappears in a flash of white light.

In the morning, Sam and Dean bring Delilah to Corey's house so she can talk to her and seek forgiveness.

"Looks like Andrew wasn't the only one who chose peace."

"Yeah, looks like. I think I'm gonna follow his lead, too."

"What do you mean?"

"My peace is helping people and working cases. I can't do that with this thing on my arm. I can't do that with my wife being the way she is. If I stay down this path, it'll be my downfall and I'll bring her with me." Dean looks at you who is across the street on your phone. You're absentmindedly picking at the device on your neck while looking at your phone. "I have to find this cure. If not for me, for her."

"Cas is so close to finding Cain. He has to know of a way."

"I believe there is a way. You said it yourself. You got through the literal devil and made it out alive. There's a way and we're going to do whatever we can to find it."

"What if she won't take it?"

"We'll make her. You should have seen her when we first met Cain. She was so determined to take it with me. I shouldn't have let her."

"You know her losing her soul isn't your fault."

"How is it not?" Dean asks with tears in his eyes. "Tell me how this is not my fault."

"Whether she had the Mark or not, she would have been soulless either way."

"Yeah, because I took it from her. Do you want me to be honest? I'm scared I'm gonna wake up one day and she'll be gone. I'm scared that when we finally do shove her soul back in her, it'll be too late."

"You don't have to shoulder this burden alone," Sam says and places his hand on Dean's shoulder. "We're going to find this cure. We'll cure you both."

"Thanks," Dean whispers.

He looks at you again and prays to God you don't get any worse.

You don't care if they have a remote that will activate your shock machine. You're leaving this Bunker tonight with or without their permission. As soon as you get back, you pack a bag as light as you can carry. You'll get more stuff along the way. Where will you go? You're not sure but it sure as hell isn't going to be here.

Sam and Dean are in the library when you walk past them into the war room.

"Where are you going?"

"Parading all over the country is not what I want to do. I'm sick and tired of you two controlling me. I'm done." You turn to face them by the base of the metal stairs. "I'm leaving and I'd really like to see you try and stop me."

Dean takes the remote out of his hand but you're a step ahead of him. You swiftly take out your gun and point it at him. Sam freezes in his steps because he's nervous you're actually gonna start shooting.

"What are you gonna do?"

"You can't press the button if you're dead."

"Do it. You're not leaving this Bunker."

Your finger twitches against the trigger like you're going to pull it. Then you see Sam with wide eyes and you know that if you kill his brother, all you're asking for is a Winchester up your ass. You'd rather not spend your entire life running from one of them. Instead, you aim at the remote and shoot. The remote explodes into pieces and Dean jumps back from the shock.

"What are you gonna use now?" you smirk.

You turn to the stairs but both Winchesters jump into action. They run out in front of you, effectively blocking your way.

"You might have a chance with one of us but not both," Dean glares.

"Oh? Just because you're big and tall, you think you'd win in a fight against me?" you scoff and take a step back.

"You've relied on magic all your life. You're not as good a fighter as we are."

You smirk and toss your bag and gun to the side. "If I beat you two, I leave."

"If you don't?" Sam asks.

"Back to the dungeon I go, and I won't fight you anymore on this cure for the Mark."

Sam and Dean look at each other before lunging at you. You see their moves coming from a mile away. While Sam and Dean are fighting to subdue you, you're fighting to kill. You have nothing to lose. They have everything to lose.

Sam swings his hand to punch you but you grab it at the last second and twist it behind him. Dean comes running at you two so you kick his ass and they go crashing into each other. Dean is the first one up and runs at you. He grabs you from behind thinking he got you but you're two steps ahead of him. You let them believe he got you so when Sam comes over, you kick off his chest and swing over Dean. You land on the floor and punch Dean to the ground, almost breaking his jaw.

The problem with the Winchesters is you're too damn flexible for them. You roundhouse kick Sam in the face, and he sprays a line of blood as he goes down. They start to think you might win this so they have to pick up their game or you will kill them. Dean ignores the pain in his jaw as he grabs one of the chairs and smacks you in the back.

You crumble to the ground in a grunt of pain. He and Sam grab you on either side and refuse to let you go. You struggle as hard as you can to get away from them but it's looking like you might lose this fight. The more you struggle, the more you get angry. The more you get angry, the more your Mark flares and burns. The metaphorical pot inside your body is bubbling over, and the only thing fueling it is the Mark.

"Let me go!" you yell.

"Admit it! You lost this one!" Dean grunts.

"Let go of me!"

"You lost, Y/N, just give it up!" Sam yells.

"I said. LET. GO!"

Bright red magic explodes out from all sides of you, causing Sam and Dean to go flying into the walls behind them. The entire war room is covered in a red hue, and you look down at your hands to see red magic flow out of them. The power you feel right now is so... exhilarating. Your Mark is burning so much but it's the good kind of pain. The kind of pain you crave. The kind of power you crave.

You look at the brothers with an evil smirk. They're too scared to do anything. They know you've fallen over the edge. There is no coming back from this. You lift the brothers with your magic and fling them so hard into the wall again that it cracks from the pressure. Both of them are too weak to do anything which is exactly what you want.

You reach up and peel off the device from your neck like it's a goddamn sticker.

"You don't control me anymore. I win. I'm leaving. If you want to try and stop me, well, you can't. No one can," you laugh.

You grab your bag and head to the metal stairs.

"This isn't you!" Sam yells loudly. You pause by the stairs but don't face him. "You're the Sapphire Witch! You help people!"

"Honey, the Sapphire Witch is dead."

"Yeah? Then what are you?"

You face the brothers with a smirk and bright red eyes.

"I'm the Scarlet Witch."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural angst #spn #supernatural series rewrite #supernatural season 10

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ahedderick · 11 days ago

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Grumpy elder yells at The Cloud

Online banking/financial stuff is supposed to be easier - or faster - than the "old-fashioned" way. However. I had to spend well over an hour last week trying to get money sent from college savings accounts (plural) to my bank. The JollyFunds account? Had changed their log-in procedure. So I had to call the 800 number, get a bored-sounding human on the line, have him refuse to talk to me (my name and my husband's name are on this account - but his appears FIRST. wtf?!), get my husband to tell the guy to talk to me, get a new login info, etc. It was a Pain in The Ass. Then, after I was able to login and access the accounts, I transferred some money, okaaay - but it was three business days until it hit my bank. Which meant five days, total.

The OtherGuys account? I wanted to log in to check the amount, even though I can't request funds online. It didn't like my answer to the security question, and locked me out. I called the actual human who takes care of distributions. He was busy, so he had to call me back. All taken care of? No, actually, his assistant called me back a couple days later to get more info to process the distribution. Which was electronic, but did in fact take longer than mailing me a check would have.

When I (for example) physically mail a check to my credit card company, it takes me about 3 minutes to write the check and walk it to the mailbox - and they usually cash it two days later. Online takes more effort - sometimes a LOT - and takes longer!

#just ranting #someday I'll be done with college bills #oh blessed day

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dreamylittlesugarcube · 1 year ago

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Clickbait

Genre: EXO AU

Characters: Kyungsoo x Female Reader

Warnings: Kind of some swearing?

Word Count: 1000

Summary: You meet your long-term pen pal and it’s SURPRISE, Kyungsoo.

A/N: This was a request and a fun one at that! I hope you enjoy it. Don’t forget to like and re-blog if you do. How would you react if this happened to you? Leave me a GIF in the comments!

Also note: This is my own original work, if you’d like to share, please re-blog. Do not re-post. Image used is not mine, credit goes to Soompi.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crouched behind a hip-height brick wall, you carefully checked your phone, watching as the seconds ticked by, second by second closer to the appointed meeting time.

55…56…57…58…59…60

7:00 AM

Behind you, the giant hands on the clock tower advanced and the bells chimed, each dong seeming to say MOVE YOUR BUTT, COWARD! You peeked around the corner, careful to stay hidden as you scanned the mostly-deserted park, wondering if any of the strangers walking by happened to be your stranger. Though perhaps ‘stranger’ wasn’t the right word. More like ‘person-I’ve-told-all-my-inner-thoughts-to-but-actually-never-met-and-might-

be-a-scammer’.

Not for the first time, you wondered if you were foolish. Foolish to have joined a cooking community on Reddit. Foolish to have responded to a post from soogoodmykimchispaghetti. Foolish to have spent over a year messaging a person you only knew online. Day by day, falling for the kind, witty man you exchanged food porn photos with.

If you’d learned anything from MTV’s Catfish, it was to be skeptical of young, seemingly attractive, well-spoken men online. Especially ones who avoided video chatting and changed the topic every time you asked for a picture. You’d sent him one of yours, hoping he’d respond with one in kind. But he hadn't. And yet somehow he’d still talked you into flying to meet him in Seoul. Which was precisely how you found yourself in your current position, hiding within sight of the meeting place, unsure of whether you actually wanted him to show up or not.

From your point of view there were three options ahead of you:

Option 1: He ghosts you and you can quietly pretend this never happened

Option 2: He’s nothing like you imagined

Option 3: He’s everything you thought he’d be and more

Option 4: He tries to extort you for money or join his MLM scheme.

Honestly, 75% of those options sucked.

“Um…puffypancakegirl29?”

You startled at the sound of a voice behind you, losing your balance and falling flat on your butt in the process. On the ground, you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before you looked up. You had time to register dark brown eyes, fluffy black hair, and full-looking lips before instant recognition hit.

Your ult bias, EXO’s Do Kyungsoo, extended his hand to you.

“Puffypancakegirl29?” he tried again.

Your throat felt tight as you nodded mechanically, managing to grasp his hand and allow him to pull you up from the dirt. You made a show of dusting off your pants as you thought about what to say.

Hello Soo, nice to meet you, by the way I love you and your voice makes me melt? Or Nice to meet you Soo, by the way I really enjoyed that low-cut white pirate shirt you wore on Music Bank the other week?

Both of those options sounded like excellent ways to freak out the K-Pop idol who was apparently your long-term penpal.

“Are you okay?” Kyungsoo asked, dark brows knitted together in concern.

You swallowed hard. “Yeah, yep, totally fine, all good,” you sputtered. “Just waiting for you.”

“Behind a wall?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow in amusement.

You shrugged, murmuring something unintelligible. Fighting the urge to run, you made a beeline past Kyungsoo for a bench you spotted just down the path.

“Wait,” Kyungsoo called after you, stooping down to pick up the phone you hadn’t realized you’d dropped. “Your phone…”

Now in front of you, he stood, staring at your lock screen with an expression you couldn’t quite read. In horror, you realized what he was seeing: a close-up of him wearing that god-damned pirate shirt, looking sexy as hell during his “Cream Soda” promotions.

You quickly snatched the phone out of his hands, hiding it behind your back to try and bury the evidence, though you knew it was already too late.

Kyungsoo sat down beside you, hands folded calmly in his lap.

“So…I take it, you know who I am then?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Yeah, I know who you are. But only now, I swear I didn’t know before.”

“How would you?” he asked gamely. “I never sent you a picture…which I’m sorry about, by the way, I just–”

“No, I get it, Kyungsoo. I do. With your job, you have to be careful…and sending pictures to some random girl you met online–”

“You’re not some random girl–”

You laughed. “I’m the definition of ‘some random girl’, Kyungsoo. I mean, we met on a cooking subreddit thread, for pete’s sake.”

“True,” Kyungsoo chuckled. “It’s nice to meet you, by the way.” He extended his hand for you to take. “You know, once we decided to meet, I’d been thinking about how to reveal my identity to you, but I guess now I don’t have to.”

You took his hand, pumping it up and down. “I swear, I’m not a weirdo. I just really like your voice, that’s all.”

“And my chest, apparently.”

You felt your face get red. “I would love it if you would forget about that,” you said, wondering if there might be a sinkhole nearby for you to fall into.

“Not a chance,” he responded, sporting a grin that said this would definitely come up again in the future.

“Um…so…what should we do now,” you asked dumbly, trying to shift the conversation to literally anything else.

“I was thinking maybe breakfast? Get to know each other a little more?” Kyungsoo replied. “I know a great place near here that serves those fluffy, souffle pancakes and I assumed maybe you–”

“Is that why we had to meet at the crack of dawn?” you blurted.

Kyungsoo laughed, his eyes squinching in a delightfully cute way. “Well, partially. That…and I’m…well, me, so–”

You smiled at his words, holding up a hand to cut him off. “Breakfast sounds good.”

Kyungsoo got up, putting on a black baseball cap and face mask. His “on the down-low” gear, you assumed. You walked together through the park in companionable silence and once on streets, let him guide you down some surprisingly quiet alleyways towards your destination. A bright yellow awning greeted you, along with the sweet smell of baked goods and maple syrup.

“Kyungsoo?” you said, stopping him just outside the restaurant.

He turned to smile back at you and your heart thumped loudly in your chest.

“Thanks for being Option #3.”

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading Clickbait! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Don’t forget to leave me a meme or GIF in the comments. How would you react if this were you? Inquiring minds must know!

XOXO,

Emmy

#kyungsoo fanfic #kyungsoo exo #do kyungsoo #exo fanfic #exo #kyungsoo #exo fic #exo fiction #exo scenario #exo fanfiction #exo scenarios #kyungsoo fluff #exo kyungsoo #kyungsoo scenarios #exo request #cream soda #exo imagines #kyungsoo x reader #kyungsoo x you

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veeluvss · 2 years ago

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My Girl, Lily Prentiss (3)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

"I knew you'd still be here," Rossi sighed, stepping into Emily's office. "Hi Dave," Emily sighed, putting some hair behind her ear. "How are you doing?" "How would anyone be doing right now?" she snapped but then felt bad. "Sorry, I just," she took a deep breath. "How about you head home? Get some rest so you can think clearly," Rossi suggested. "I can't do that," she said, holding up her file. "Work to do." "Have you eaten?" "No, I'm not hungry," Emily replied. "Emily," Rossi said gently, he came around her desk and closed her laptop softly. He sat one leg on the desk, lifting himself up and turned to the raven-haired girl. "This is going to be so much harder if you don't look after yourself," Rossi told her. "I'm fine." "Don't bullshit me," Rossi said, so calmly. Emily couldn't help but laugh. She leaned back in her chair and turned to him. "I know it hurts. I know it's hard. You need a clear head to get the quickest and best result in finding her. Go home and rest." Emily groaned and nodded. "I can't believe I let this happen. If I'd known they were treating her like-" Rossi stopped her with his hand. "I know. That's why you need to protect her now."

That night, Emily slept heavily, the stress of the day exhausting her. She dreamt of Lily, now. Being her own. She dreamt of waking up to her brunette baby beside her in bed after a nightmare, holding her close, and smelling her hair. She dreamt of taking her girl out to the park, on a walk or out to dinner to treat her. She dreamt of her girl's laugh, her cry, her smile. She dreamt of her having Lily back, as her own.

"Right, if I'm Lily, where would I go?" Morgan asked, standing around the table.

The team had concluded that Lily had originally run away from home however, the lack of contact had been disturbing. The last she was seen was getting in a black SUV outside a gas station, 20 miles from her home. There were two people in the front of the car and Garcia, for the life of her, couldn't trace them or the vehicle. "I'd find someone to love me," Tara said, honestly. "Skyla told me that Lily regularly told Tori she didn't feel loved." "Is that not what she was trying to do online?" Morgan asked, writing it on the board nonetheless. "A young girl reaching out for validation on her body is very different to finding someone to love her," JJ explained. "Perhaps she had a boyfriend." "All of her chats I could find were all her deals, none of them even slightly resemble a relationship," Garcia shrugged, tapping on her laptop. "Could she have had a boyfriend in person?" "Her teachers doubt it, she spoke to no one. When she was in school that is." "What about out of school?" "Again. Everyone agrees they've never seen her with other people." The group went silent, all deep in thought. "Has anyone spoken to her biological parents?" Reid asked, suddenly thinking. JJ nodded, "Prentiss is there now."

Keeping her hands at her side, Emily walked through the prison. She waited for the guard to push open the door then clenched her jaw. Harold Addams. The sight of the man in front of her made her unbelievably angry. He destroyed her life. "Prentiss, Prentiss, Prentiss," he sniggered, folding his arms across his chest. "Long time no see." "Addams," she said sternly, sitting in the chair opposite him. "What did I do to deserve such a pretty reward hm?" He asked. Emily felt sick. "Where's your daughter?" "Lily? Well, shouldn't you know that?" "She's been missing for three days. Where is she?" Prentiss wasn't playing around. "How would I know? I'm locked up." He was answering questions with questions. "Have you been having any correspondence outside these walls?" "Only with you beautiful lady," he glistened, leaning forwards. Emily scoffed, "usless."

Garcia sat in her tech cave, searching through every bit of this girls life. She'd unsealed records, she'd logged into all her accounts, read her messages, her emails, her bank statements. Lily was loaded with sugar daddies and in a normal instance, Penelope would be jealous. She hummed as she tapped away on her computer, trying to find even a trace of some sort of dodgy deals behind the scenes. She groaned, picking up her laptop and heading to the round table. Reid was there with JJ, scoring through the printed documents.

"Doesn't it make you wonder why Emily was so connected to her?" Reid asked, as Garcia sat down. "It was a failed undercover mission, Em was trapped in there with Lily as her only mental escape," JJ explained, shrugging. "She was only seven, she didn't understand," Reid siad, frowning. "That's the point," Garcia said. "It's like me looking at all these baby animal pictures," she smiled and sent them to the screen. She cooed at the fluffy baby cows with flowers in their mouths. "Yeah, her break, her way to realise there was still innocence there," JJ explained.

"Why do you think they used the little girl though?" Tara asked, coming into the room also. "People show a more vulnerable side with kids," Spencer said. "Statistically, 68% of abductions are more successful if a child is involved to lure them in." "So they used Lily as a way to get women to them?" "Yes. That's what they did." Emily confirmed, coming in the room. "They would look after her, bathe her, treat her like a princess and then if she did the slightest thing wrong, her dad would rip them away - rape them so she could hear them and then hand them back all bloody and bruised. If the women did something wrong, he'd beat Lily in front of them." "Jesus," Rossi groaned, taking a seat. "Emily, what role did the brothers have? These cases keep-" "That's it! The brothers!" Spencer said suddenly, standing up. Everyone looked at him. "Richard Addams and Thomas Addams. Look here," Spencer said, grabbing a piece of paper he discarded. It was chats between LILLIL, URB0YISR1CH and TOMCATDADDYRAT. It looked like normal texts to the naked eye but now with an idea on the names, Spencer began circling certain parts of the conversation: 'Gas', 'Law and order', 'back' , 'love', 'daddy's girl'. Every second word made a sentence on it's own. The boys were giving her a meeting place.

"Guys..." Reid said. "They were telling Lily to be at the gas station at 3am in order to avoid the cops and they could stay hidden. They want her to feel the love, the one her daddy gave her." He read out, like a robot.

"What does that mean?" "That means they're just as bad as their father." Emily spat out. "Find who these boys are Garcia," she added, walking away. "Now!"

Emily paced up and down her office. This wasn't possible. Richard was dead. Emily had killed him. She had no idea how it was possible. She remembered hearing Lily's screams and Richard's groans in pains. She could hear Thomas screaming for his brother to move. He begged him to move, to breath. Thomas was praying his brother wouldn't die - not like this. Lily scrambled into Prentiss' lap, assessing her brother with the agent. "Richy," the small girl whimpered, touching the blood pouring from the boys chest. "Get her out Prentiss!" Emily heard one of her team members say and she nodded. She grabbed the girl's weak body. Lily clung to her, hiding her face in her neck as Emily shielded her from the gunfire. They ran through the warehouse, Emily trying her hardest to remember the way out.

Eventually, she escaped into the sunlight and dropped to her knees, cradling the crying girl in her arms. "It's okay sweetheart," she whispered, brushing Lily's bloody hair from her face. Her blonde hair, now splattered in red. "Emmy's got you."

Emily had shot Rich in the chest, they both watched him bleed out. It wasn't possible he was alive now. There was a knock on her office door and she just opened it. JJ stood there, wringing her hands together. Emily let her in, closing the door behind her without saying a word. "We've spoken to Thomas's foster parents, since he turned eighteen, they haven't seem him at all," JJ told Emily. "Okay." "Garcia is running their information, trying to find out anything she can on the boys." "Okay." "Em," "He's meant to be dead." Emily said, staring out of the window. "I killed Richard Addams and now he has come and taken my baby away," she whispered. Her hand rested on her chest and she felt the pain.. "We'll find her Em, and the boys too. They won't get away with this," JJ said, she rested her hand on Emily's shoulder, offering support. "Damn right they won't," Emily said. She turned abruptly and walked out the door, leaving JJ behind in her office.

Tara and Morgan were back at Lily's house, looking for any sort of sign she knew her brothers. They'd searched everywhere they could think of until Morgan got a call from Garcia. "Please tell me you have good news Baby Girl," "She keeps talking about a cabinet." Garcia said. "'I keep special pictures locked in the cabinet for you,'" Reid quoted through the phone. "Okay, what does that mean pretty boy?" "I think the pictures might be some sort of coy. Maybe its information, is there any sort of cabinet there?" Reid asked. Morgan looked around her room, phone at his ear. "Not an obvious one." "What about anywhere else in the house? The Bathroom?" "Why would she keep secret things in the family bathroom?" Derek asked but walked towards it nonetheless. "Nobody will think to look there," Garcia added. Morgan shrugged and investigated the cabinet. Then he saw it, the pill bottle with writing on both sides of the label. Instantly he peeled off the sticker, looking on the back. It was an address. Tara was over his shoulder.

"Let's go." They said together.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ table of contents

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau head canons #emily prentiss head canons #jennifer jareau x reader #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau imagine #emily #lily prentiss #my girl lily prentiss #emily prentiss x daughter

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