#conversational ai for recruiting

[infosprint]

The SMB Guide to Hiring: 6 Top AI Tools to Hire Faster

If you’re a small business owner or startup founder, you know that hiring great talent fast is easier said than done. Between resume overload and back-and-forth scheduling, it’s easy to burn out.

Thankfully, AI tools are finally catching up — and leveling the playing field for SMBs.

In this guide, we dive into 6 top AI hiring tools you can use today to streamline recruiting and speed up your hiring process by 50%.

1. Breezy HR - End-to-End AI-Powered ATS

A standout feature of Breezy is its AI integration, which automates repetitive tasks intelligently and ranks candidates based on their job fit, significantly reducing manual effort.

AI-Powered Candidate Matching

Drag and Drop Pipeline Management

Automated candidate sourcing

Integrated video interviews

Vervoe – AI Skills Testing Platform

If your company only needs candidates with real-world problem-solving skills, then Vervoe is your go-to platform. 

Pre-built and custom assessments

AI-grading with human-like accuracy

Anti-cheating tools

Want the full list with pricing and use cases?👉 Read the complete blog

[interspectai]

AI Conversation Intelligence Platform - Spectra by InterspectAI

Need a faster, more structured way to run interviews? Spectra by InterspectAI is an AI Conversation Intelligence Platform that streamlines hiring, research, and engagement. With intelligent agents, real-time insights, bias reduction, secure integrations, and scalable deployment, Spectra delivers efficient, human-like interviews for SMBs and enterprises. Try Spectra today.

Visit us to know more: https://www.interspect.ai/spectra

[voiceowl]

Elevating Communication with AI Voice Bot Technology

Imagine a world where businesses can have natural, intelligent conversations with their customers through technology. That’s exactly what an AI voice bot offers. Unlike traditional bots, these advanced systems understand context and respond with meaningful answers, making interactions smoother and more personal.

At VoiceOwl.ai, we’re dedicated to building AI voice bot solutions that fit seamlessly into your existing setup, helping automate customer service and make every interaction count.Our AI voice bots are designed to learn and improve over time, ensuring they keep up with your needs and provide the best possible responses.

Whether you need help with customer support, virtual assistants, or smart home devices, VoiceOwl.ai is here to bring the future of communication to your business.

[inkskinned]

it took me 964 applications. i've been counting, but not well. i don't always add every quick-apply to the spreadsheet. this one was five rounds of interviews. saying my elevator pitch like a parrot, peppy and happy. for a long time, i didn't hear anything from them. i thought it was the same as always - they say where did we find you, seem excited, then ghost me. i had sent three follow-up emails hi, just checking in! excited for this opportunity!

i have a master's degree and over 10 years of work in the industry. i've worked 5 jobs at once. i have worked hard and i tried hard my entire life, no matter how burnt out i got or whatever else happened to me. i am the representation of the american dream.

but i'm not a good fit for an entry-level job, i guess, so i get told a lot we just don't think you're be happy. but they fill other positions internally, instead saying - well, there was another candidate who had 6 more days of experience. if i'm lucky, i get this sad little email back from the recruiter, all saying the same thing: we liked you, but we went with another option, good luck job hunting. that is - if i'm lucky, and they even communicate at all with me.

what a waste of fucking time. i've been counting interviews - i am a fucking master total of 42 fucking hours. can you fucking believe. i would have made rent if they'd fucking paid me.

and now nobody does remote, even though this is a job that for the last five years has been remote-completely. now they are paying 14 an hour for a job that used to be 33.50. now they are saying we are looking for rockstars and mean we don't give you health insurance. "we need someone motivated and a little crazy" translates to you will have one day of PTO annually. every job board filled with the same AI-generated bullshit of "our values/join our family/Make Waves With Us". they need to be constantly growing. who knows if they're genuinely hiring.

sometimes i want to write did you know i saved a life once into the cover letter. sometimes i want to put a little secret in there, a little short story about how when i was a kid i used to dream of speaking to my plants. i have the same six conversations with people and answer the same eight questions. sometimes at the end they'll throw something in there that's completely irrelevant. what is my go-to belting song (and yes, they say, there is a wrong answer). what animal would i turn into. what's the most reactive element i've had direct contact with. do i know how to lift an elephant.

964 feels like a nice number, somehow round and pleasing. sometimes i have nightmares where the spreadsheet grows arms and strangles me to death. i saw an old friend in one of these recently; he said the earth will end and you'll still be applying until you run out of breath. 964 is a lot of time to spend filling out an application on a site that doesn't load properly and just steals my information.

one time in desperation i applied for a supermarket position. just anything to make the ends meet, good lord, i'd take anything. i was rejected from it. i'm not, like, proud. i'd take anything so i can afford to live again. and meanwhile, god! our fucking president!

i can't think about it without shaking. i had to beg for help. i paid my own way through college - i have been working (under the table) since i was 12.

nine hundred and sixty-four. and finally! something! and here's the fucking thing: i had to turn it down because it's in your city. how pathetic to think that 2 months ago, i would have agreed to move out to DC, my hands in your hair. my life splashed on your sheets. how pathetic that 2 months ago, you said you wanted me. 964 fucking jobs later, and how pathetic! i can't say yes because my life is entirely different. holy shit.

it's just hell. because god fucking protect you if you have a breakup or a mental breakdown or health issues or need your meds. you can try for a year and still hear fucking nothing from the job market. i have no idea how many times i've said i give up and i still fucking kept doing it. every moment like sandpaper against a raw wound. lowering and lowering my expectations. watching my savings dwindle to nothing. thank you for submitting your application!

back into the frying pan. over and over again.

[saiyanprincessswanie]

You’re the One

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 770

Summary: Bucky finally tells a recruit off nicely and reminds you that you’re the one for him.

Warnings: Fluff, telling a recruit off, a little jealousy, and a happy ending.

A/N: Cranky, Grumpy, Stabby! Oh, My! Challenge @yenzys-lucky-charm Prompt: “It’s always been you… you know that.”  & Missy’s Writing Challenge Prompt: “You made me believe in love.”

A/N 2: Thank Beta Readers @late-to-the-party-81 & @lfnr-blog-blog-blog, also thank you @late-to-the-party-81 for my header.

Please Read, Reblog, & Comment. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site or run through AI. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen.

You’ve been dating Bucky Barnes for a year now and everything seemed to be going well until recently. Lately, you’ve been having some jealousy issues when you’ve seen him helping one of the new recruits, Brittany. It wasn’t that she’s taller than you with blonde hair and green eyes, but more that she’s been playing dumb to get his attention. Every time Bucky corrects her stance by putting his hands on her hips, she lets out this awful giggle that makes you want to scratch your eyes out. 

You’ve tried to keep your composure, but it’s become a constant five days a week of having to watch your boyfriend go through this routine with her. You also knew that it was starting to get to Bucky as well from the conversations he’d had with you. He’d told you how uncomfortable he was having to be hands-on with her when he knew she could do the training by herself.

However, as much as it annoyed you, you continued with your training Monday through Friday without saying a word to her, despite how difficult it was getting not to cuss her out or tell her to keep her hands to herself. Thankfully, one day you even got to spar with her, which was satisfying in itself. Not only did you manage a take-down on her, she also ended up whining, which made your day. You didn’t even care that you got scolded for being too rough. Then the weekend came and you could finally spend some alone time with him. You both were getting ready for a ride on Bucky’s motorcycle when the bimbo herself showed up unannounced. 

“Hi Bucky, what are you up to? Going for a ride?” Brittany stood far too close to him and didn’t even acknowledge you.

“Uh, hey there. Just getting ready to head out with my girlfriend for the day. So we need to be going.” Bucky refused to look at her as he continued to do checks on his bike.

She looked over at you, giving you a dirty look. “Oh, right, her. Well, maybe when you get back, you can go over this past week's moves with me. I think I need a little more practice.” 

You stared her down for a moment and were about to tell her to fuck off when Bucky interupted knowing full well what you were going to say.

“Look, Brittany, it's the weekend and I’m going to spend it with my best girl. If you need extra help I highly suggest talking to Steve. Either he can help or give you a trainer to work with. But what you’re doing is highly disrespectful to both me and my girlfriend. I know you’ve been trying to get my attention for weeks now, even though you know I’m in a relationship. It’s totally inappropriate and unprofessional, and I’m going to leave it at that.”

Brittany just stared at him and then looked at you. You could see her tricks weren’t going to work on Bucky anymore. She looked devastated and all you could do was laugh on the inside. “I don’t understand,” she stammered. “I was just asking for help from my supervisor, like I’m supposed to.”

“You were not looking or asking for help,” you bit out. “You’ve been trying to get into my boyfriend's pants for weeks now. So be a good little recruit and get the fuck away from him before I show you that take down move again.”

Brittany stood there momentarily, with her mouth open in shock from what you said, then tears welled in her eyes as she ran out of the garage.

Bucky looked back at you, surprised that you hadn’t actually put your hands on her, before he pulled you close and kissed your forehead. “It’s always been you… you know that. There’s no other woman that I want or need except for you. You're the reason why I took a chance at dating again. You made me believe in love. Even when I didn’t want to think I was capable of it. You’re my everything. You’re the one, sweetheart. I love you.”

Tears started to shimmer in your eyes. “You’re my everything as well, Bucky. You’re the one I think of every day and night. The one I want to be with all the time. You’re the best thing that keeps happening to me. I love you.”

After hugging and softly kissing one another, Bucky climbed onto the bike followed by you. He revved the engine a few times and you both took off away from the compound heading to who knows where.

Taglist:

@americasass81

@awesomerextyphoon

@awkwardgiraffe726

@b3autyfuld1sast3r

@caplanbuckybarnes

@denisemarieangelina

@fictional-affairs

@get0verit

@joannie95

@jobean12-blog

@jtargaryen18

@jvanilly

@kmc1989

@labella420

@lfnr-blog-blog-blog

@madscape

@mcira

@mdemontespan1667

@missvelvetsstuff

@mrsmischief209

@mycrazyasslikestoread

@nekoannie-chan

@noellez-best-life23

@notyourtypicalrose

@obsessedwithcevans

@patzammit

@princessofdarkwinter

@rayofdawnworld

@sarahowritesostucky

@spectre-posts

@stellar-solar-flare

@steviebbboi

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@wolfsmom1

@yenzys-lucky-charm

@casa-boiardi

@avengersfan25

[please-destroy]

When The Deal Goes Down

Series Masterlist .

Chapter 1: Trust and Sunglasses

.

Part 1 - Hawk Eyes Everywhere.

You’d been staying in the Avengers compound less than a week. Fury had seen your potential immediately upon your recruitment to SHIELD as a rumoured enhanced being. With your abilities to both turn invisible and to float being pretty passive, it wasn’t surprising that he’d wanted you around real Avengers so that you could work on making these skills more weaponisable. You tried to be friendly with the other Avengers when you could fit socialising around the strict training regime you’d immediately been placed on. 

From the start you’d clicked with Natasha in a way that you could tell was as rare for her as it was for you. It was flirty and it was forward, but it wasn’t really anything official yet. You could tell that your natural closeness with Natasha was noticeably strange, even uncomfortable, for the other Avengers, especially Clint. This was one of the reasons that you’d readily agreed to Natasha’s insistence on being nothing more than friends around the others.

 ‘Bye guys.’ You called out to Clint and Natasha as they crossed the gym floor, passing by the punching bag that you were ineffectively trying to hit. They’d come in from the target range outside, halting their conversation awkwardly as soon as they spotted you and Steve in the corner. You were pretty sure that you would continue to be the topic of conversation as soon as they left the gym too. 

You tried not to mind so much. It was Natasha who was having to dodge questions from a friend as protective as Clint. She’d been apprehensive about meeting him in the gym this morning, even though she’d played it off. Now, it seemed like he had no hesitation in making his points. You watched him gesturing emphatically as their conversation resumed out of your earshot.

Steve distracted you enough by giving you a go on the treadmill at a pace so blinding that at first you thought you were having a heart attack. His explanation about muscle development seemed a bit sketchy too, but you held your tongue knowing that he’d gotten all of his muscles from a science experiment. Nonetheless, you had a feeling his goals for your fitness were based on some super soldier standards rather than mere mortals like yourself.

Your session blew through lunch time and eventually, when his own stomach rumbling became clearly audible, Steve finally agreed to let you go.

After a quick shower, you scrounged some tortilla chips and guacamole from the common room fridge and snuck back to your room. You decided immediately it wasn’t going to be enough and settled on ordering food in instead. Jarvis was happy to put in a delivery order, which impressed you more than it should have, given he was an AI designed to be helpful.

You decided to knock on Natasha’s door before sending in the order. It felt criminal to order food and not ask others if they wanted something too. The door was ajar and so, as you knocked on it, you also pushed it forward. The immediate tension that you felt in the room was viscerally unbearable. Natasha and Clint were both sitting on the small sofa. They’d clearly halted mid-argument at the sound of your arrival. 

Clint gave you a look full of distrust while Natasha’s seemed both guarded and a little uncomfortable. Your first instinct was to examine the scene more granularly, thinking illogically that the severe tension must be coming from an unwanted physical situation. But they sat like any two friends would. Maybe that was part of the tension you could sense; the disconnect between their body language and the feeling in the air. 

Natasha raised an eyebrow at you pointedly and you remembered why you had intruded.

‘Sorry for interrupting, I was about to order food. Either of you want in?’ Your voice told them how aware and confused you were by the scene you’d entered into.

‘No, we’re fine.’ Natasha’s calm reply had the subtext of ‘Get The Fuck Out Now Please’ and you complied immediately. You didn’t know how to deal with the look you’d received from Clint, nor hearing your name among the loud voices that rose up when you retreated back down the corridor. Jarvis told you quietly as you walked away that your order was placed. You headed back to your room, grabbed a book and walked down to the entrance area of the compound to await the food.

More than anything, you wanted to get far away from whatever the fuck that was. There was an enclosed garden in the middle of the entrance foyer surrounded by glass walls. You headed out for some air and sat in the egg shaped chair that floated there. You drew your legs up and tried to focus on the words in the excellent book that you couldn’t appreciate at all.

Jarvis informed you of the large pizza’s arrival and you headed out. There was an old guy there working security. Which was a little bit ironic, given the nature of the building. You offered him a pizza slice and he took it eagerly. Before long you were enjoying the normalcy of a conversation with the two women at reception and the security guard.

Rosemary on the front desk was an older woman, originally from England and you wandered through a conversation on British vs American culture and how nice it was that the Great British Bake Off was popular in the states. The other woman at reception was in her early twenties; her name was Ella and she was undoubtedly trying to flirt with you. You let her, not reciprocating, but not letting the moment get awkward either. Talking in a group helped keep the conversation flowing anyway.

You left an hour later, barely eating any of your own pizza and not really minding. You’d successfully reduced staff productivity and were now feeling much happier. The awkwardness of Clint’s reaction to you was tempered when you remembered that there was a world outside the Avengers, impossible as that sometimes seemed. You’d even walked away with Ella’s number, and Rosemary had promised to email you during the 9-5 working day. She was stuck staring at a computer anyway. 

You planned to head back to the common room, still wanting to avoid the residential part of the compound. The incident with Natasha and Clint had moved further from your immediate concerns. There was an old bean bag that you planned to face at the sunset as it came through the large windows in the room. A perfect place for reading.

You had forgotten that your particularly late lunch meant that it was now already other people’s dinner time. 

Clint, Steve and Bruce were hunched over the breakfast bar - that was used for every meal - eating some rice dish. No one seemed to have been cooking but a large serving dish sat on the kitchen counter. As they saw you enter, Bruce waved you over.

‘Grab some of Pepper’s rice thing. She just sent it down, so it’s still warm.’ His mouth was full as he spoke and you readily took up his offer.

You didn’t want to sit near Clint though, feeling very wary of him, his effect on Natasha earlier and the possible impact of his opinion on you. Instead, you ate standing, leaning against the opposite kitchen counter to keep facing him. It was an unusual act of defensiveness from you, clearly picking up some of the Avenger’s paranoia. You tried not to read any of their faces and focused instead on eating the delicious food. 

You tried to ignore the urge to turn invisible, a power that always seemed more tempting when you felt social discomfort.

Steve finished his plate first, ending his impression of a starving animal.

‘Did you go exploring after the gym?’ He asked you politely, you hadn’t talked much outside of training sessions.

‘Yeah, the reception team is a lot of fun.’ 

Steve looked sweetly baffled, like he’d never thought about them before. Bruce swallowed the last of the rice in his mouth and joined the topic.

‘The English one seems nice.’ It was clearly all he had for the conversation. Continuing your studious pretence that Clint wasn’t there, whilst also never letting him out of your field of vision, you replied.

‘Yeah, I met her, she’s really nice. Do you know she’s got four grandkids on three continents?’ The awkward pause that followed told you everything about your attempt at conversation. You hurried to change the subject.

‘Anyway, if you’re finished you should all leave immediately, so there’s enough for me to have seconds.’ You teased. Bruce laughed again, raising an eyebrow at Clint conspiratorially and including him into the conversation.

‘We were already on our thirds.’

You rolled your eyes playfully and took the chance to take another helping.

‘In that case, I’ll put the rest in a container for later, guess it’s fair game for whoever next gets hungry.’

Clint hmmphed and you tensed automatically waiting for a comment.

‘Or you could just put a little post-it on it with ‘For Natasha’.’

It was a strangely cutting comment, framed like a warning that he’d seen how close you were. Steve and Bruce exchanged a brief glance, clearly without context for the weird jab. That was reassuring, you hated the idea of being gossiped about. Levelly, you replied to Clint.

‘Does Natasha usually need permission to eat leftovers?’ 

Bruce quirked a half smile, knowing that something was unsaid, but helping you out.

‘No, that’s definitely not like her.’

‘Huh.’ You let the topic die off purposefully and continued to put away leftovers.

Bruce shuffled over to the sofa, there was a heavy looking book and his glasses already sitting there. Steve moved to put the plates in the dishwasher with the trepidation that someone from the 1940s would have with an automatic dishwasher. 

He still gave you a smile though.

‘Think tonight’s flick is gonna be a 30s Western.’

‘Sounds adventurous.” You smiled back, liking him for being friendly even when it was awkward. 

Clint was scraping his plate clear when you asked.

‘Are you staying down here for a while?’ Your face stayed neutral, trying not to think about how annoyed you were that he had likely ruined Natasha’s good mood today as well as your own.

‘Yeah.’ His voice was openly challenging, it was unsettling. You were clearly no longer some naive newbie to him. You were someone affecting his best friend and he didn’t know why. Immediately, you didn’t want to be near him, but you didn’t want to back down either. You knew you were going to be good for Natasha, even if he didn’t.

You stayed in the common room just to prove your point. Steve and Clint watched the film, though Clint’s eyes studied you unashamedly for large portions of it. As soon as Bruce said he was heading to his bed, you imitated a yawn and stretched, saying you were going to do the same. 

Steve idly commented as you stood.

‘Wonder where Nat’s hiding’.

Clint stiffened the same way you did and you knew instinctively that, though he might not know where she was, he definitely knew why she wanted to be alone.

Part 2 - Ceiling Tiles and Long Distance Spoon.

You actually managed to finish your book that night lying on your bed. You would have finished it faster if you hadn’t been actively trying not to ask Jarvis where Natasha was. You were pretty sure he also thought it wasn’t any of your business. 

You had had a small expectation that tonight you would be sleeping in Natasha’s bed again. It had been your first thought this morning and you wallowed a little that it hadn’t been correct. 

You waited til midnight before you shuffled out of the room, book finished and no inclination for sleep. When you’d spent half an hour just lying on your bed staring at the ceiling, Jarvis had helpfully told you that there was a room on the common floor, a library of sorts. Books on combat and, he gently told you, on learning Russian. You gave yourself some hope that at least Jarvis was shipping you two.

You asked carefully if Clint had gone to bed. Jarvis confirmed that he and Steve had left the common floor about an hour ago. So, you headed out. The common room had that slightly spooky and deserted vibe of wide open spaces at night. It put you on edge immediately. It was probably the only reason that you even heard the lightest of noises from above your head.

You tensed immediately, flashing yourself to invisible on instinct. The most likely person to be hiding above the ceiling tiles was Clint and you’d rather fling yourself out the window at this point than encounter him. You waited frozen in place until you heard a specific hum and sigh and realised with sudden certainty that it was Natasha above you.

You looked up, barely breathing as you assessed where exactly the noise came from. You let yourself float upwards, two ceiling tiles over from where you estimated Natasha to be. 

You knocked once on the underside of the tile and heard the sharp intake of breath. She hadn’t been aware of your proximity below. You waited but there was no other response and so you pushed the ceiling tile up. 

It took a second to adjust to the lack of even moonlight in the smaller space, and then your gaze landed on Natasha. Her eyes stood out first, noticeably rimmed red with a bottle of vodka standing upright next to her. She, herself, was curled inwards and exuding tension. 

She looked vulnerable and it made your heart ache.

‘Get out.’ Natasha glared at you, her eyes sparking with viciousness and her tone too. You paused, not wanting to spook her, but not wanting to leave anyone alone like this. You took another chance, like a daredevil with a death wish. You crawled up and into the space, sitting a small distance away from her. 

She responded by kicking out at you, executing it well enough that it hurt like fuck. You swore under your breath. It didn’t dislodge you though. Probably not because of her secret wish for you to stay, but because the vodka bottle (which was large with cyrillic writing on the side) was nearly empty. If you’d drunk that much you wouldn’t have been conscious, let alone kicking.

As your eyes wandered over the vodka bottle, Natasha clenched the top of the bottle suddenly and said something. You weren’t a mind reader but you had a feeling it was a Russian variant of ‘Fuck off’. 

You didn’t say anything back, there didn’t seem to be any right words. It was like being near a wounded creature; the worst part was how scared the animal became when you tried to help. You could see her subtly trying to curl away from you even more in the tight space.

‘Natasha’ You murmured softly into the silence. 

‘You shouldn’t be here.’ She said tiredly, as if your continued presence was exhausting.

Her foot, which had reached out to kick you, was bare. Not knowing what else to do, you rested your hand tentatively on her ankle. 

‘I want to be here.’ You said a little firmly, ‘I don’t want to be anywhere else.’

Your eyes met and you felt immediately choked by her emotions. So did Natasha, a strange half gasp falling from her mouth. Like she was crying but she’d forgotten how to do it properly. 

You shuffled over, praying these ceiling tiles were built strong enough. More uneven gasps of air came from her, the clearest indicator that she really was crying. It took a second and you watched as her eyes filled with tears that didn’t fall yet. You took another chance, wrapping your arms around her and letting her awkwardly lean into your chest.

You were both hesitant, both of you uncertain with the affection. But then you felt hot tears soak through your t-shirt and you tried to stay steady as she convulsed with emotion against you. A lump formed in your throat and you wanted to cry too.

The overwhelming feeling of love and of gratitude that you had been here, that you had found her and she wasn’t up here crying alone. 

Natasha cried for a long time, time stalling up there in the ceiling as you held her.

Eventually, she pulled back slightly and you resisted her urge to hide her face from you. You gently touched her cheeks so that she faced you. You smiled softly, letting her eyes dart around nervously. You used the sleeve of your pyjama top to wipe the tear stains from her face. And then, when you saw her eyes close at your touch, you kissed her once softly on the forehead. 

Finally, you took her hand and intertwined your fingers.

‘Come on, let’s go to bed.’ 

Natasha just nodded, her eyes a little slow on reopening as the vodka buzz had likely only increased.

You popped another ceiling tile and slid out first, letting yourself hover half in and half out of the crawl space. Natasha’s eyes widened now, obviously having forgotten your ability.

‘I don’t think I can do that.’ She said confusedly and you could almost see her brain plowing through the inebriation to form sentences.

‘That’s okay, I’ve got you.’ You said encouragingly. Natasha looked at you doubtfully, but scooted her legs over the edge like she was sitting scared to get into a swimming pool. 

You floated closer, letting yourself have the fleeting thrill of being between her legs.

You leaned towards her and whispered.

‘Now, you have to hold on.’ 

Surprisingly obedient, Natasha’s arms wrapped loosely around you, resting on your shoulders. 

Softly, you let your hands touch her back. The internal battle of wariness and attraction that your touch elicited was, for once, on display in her expression. You held her gaze and without warning pulled her off the ledge, holding her to you. 

She curled tighter to you instinctively and swore into your hair. It was one of the hottest things that’d ever happened to you. 

You held her firmly and lowered yourself quickly to the ground. Slowing right down at the last second for the softest landing. Her legs had wrapped around your waist on the way down. There was a second when you waited for her to dismount, but she didn’t. 

Natasha looked at you with a drunken challenge in her eyes. Waiting for you to ask her to get off. You liked her way of regaining control, it was very attractive. 

You met her eyes and shrugged, letting yourself float back up and removing one hand from the centre of her back to return the ceiling tile back to its proper place. You felt her hands grip your shoulders more tensely with every second that you hovered there.

Finally, you let yourself float gently into the elevator. It probably felt to Natasha as if she was in a kind of waking dream. You could see her disorientation as you bobbed up and down a little in the air. You kept her close to the ground though, so she always had the choice to get off if she wanted to.

As you left the elevator on her floor, Natasha rested her face on your shoulder and you felt her hot breath rhythmically against your neck, both reassuring and beautiful in equal measures.

You only let her slide from your grip to fall back onto her bed. You enjoyed her slight reluctance at letting go.

‘I’m going to get you some water.’ You said quietly. She nodded, her eyes strangely far away. 

She drank a little water slowly, not enough to help the impact of the inevitable hangover tomorrow, but something. 

‘Do you need to pee?’ You asked, hoping she wouldn’t take it as an immediate direction. 

Natasha nodded again, lurching suddenly forward with none of the grace she usually had. She looked with fury at her own limbs, as if she couldn’t understand their ineptitude. Ironically, she was showing more coordination than anyone else at her level of inebriation, but her annoyance stayed comically large.

You guided her to the bathroom, hand on the small of her back. At the bathroom door Natasha looked at you confused.

‘Go pee.’ You reminded her, loving her look of enlightenment when she remembered her purpose. She didn’t bother shutting the door, which was reassuring in case she keeled over in there. You turned your back and stood there awkwardly. 

When Natasha was back sitting on the bed. You asked her if she wanted you to find her some pyjamas. She ignored your question like you hadn’t spoken, instead undoing her bra with incredible dexterity on drunken display. She stood up to kick off her workout pants. It left her standing in underwear that your eyes clung to like a magnet before you forced them back up. She smirked at you then and you felt something change markedly in the air.

Suddenly, her fingers were snaking up your shoulders and neck, tangling into your hair. Her mouth was on yours and you felt a burning aching running through you. Your hands reached to cup her face and when she deepened the kiss, you let her. The hot smokiness of it was intoxicating. Then she turned you in a move of practiced ease, so you were lying on the bed with her above you. 

The urge to stop her took over and you firmly broke the kiss. 

‘No.’

If someone told you that was the first time she’d ever heard the word, you would have believed it. Absolute disbelief showed on her face and there was arrogance in her shock that was heightened by the alcohol. One of her hands slid out from your hair, slinking softly down your body and trailing a daring path downward. Her eyes said ‘You’ll reconsider.’ 

You caught her wrist. Your words came out clear and firm.

‘You’re too important. I don’t want it to be like this.’

Natasha clearly didn’t know if this was rejection, the feeling bouncing in and out of her confused face. Then her expression abruptly shuttered to neutral while she took a minute to process, you gave it to her patiently.

‘Let’s sleep.’ She said in a scratchy voice, moving to the other side of the bed and turning away from you. You let the hand already circling her wrist follow her across the bed. The rest of you mirrored her position from a safe distance.

A long distance spoon, you thought a little morosely.

It only took a minute before Natasha moved back purposefully, bumping against you probably a little harder than she’d been intending. You wrapped her into your arms, moving your head only so the loose tendrils of her hair didn’t tickle your face.

She passed out into a deep sleep less than five minutes later. You followed soon after.

Part 3 - Sunglasses

The next morning, you woke up early. The curtains stayed open and you woke naturally with the bright sun. Natasha had stayed close against you all night and she seemed in the deepest of sleeps. You wondered if she had ever used alcohol as a cure to insomnia, if it was this effective you were surprised she didn’t use it more often.

You quietly asked Jarvis to shut the curtains, feeling her hangover in advance. When it got to 9am, Natasha gave a groan. You kissed her shoulder, feeling bad for her. You watched as one eye opened and then the other. Then they both screwed shut. For a supposedly secretive spy, it wasn’t hard to guess that this woman was experiencing a classic hangover. Natasha swore once in Russian, then in English.

‘Fucking Vodka.’

‘Fucking Clint.’ You said bitterly.

‘Ugh, I don’t need that image.’ She said dramatically. You kissed her shoulder again, and she leant back into it automatically. Then you felt the embarrassment wash through her and you knew she remembered last night. 

You avoided the elephant in the room deftly.

‘Let me get you some fresh water and painkillers’ You scooted off the bed. Natasha groaned again and called out after you.

‘The real Advil is taped under the sink.’

You didn’t let yourself wonder why the Avengers compound was not considered safe enough to just keep the Advil in the Advil bottle. 

When you brought the pills back, Natasha pulled herself into a sitting position and you moved some pillows behind her.

‘I’m not on my fucking death bed.’ The bite in her words came from the hangover. 

‘You could have fooled me.’ 

Only moving one arm, Natasha smacked you in the face with one of the pillows. You laughed. She put her finger to your lips, silencing the noise effectively. 

You went back to your rooms to get changed and when you came back through Natasha had done the same. 

Natasha was unashamedly wearing sunglasses indoors, looking as capable, confident and maybe even more dangerous than usual. You paused, pretending to size her up.

‘You know I’ve never actually seen Weekend at Bernie’s so you’re going to  have to tell me what to do with you.’

‘Bitch’ she said lightly, ‘Let’s get breakfast.’

Now you dragged your feet as she walked past you.

‘Maybe I should eat in my room and we could catch up later.’ You offered plainly.

Eyes shielded by the glasses and yet you still felt interrogated by Natasha’s stare.

‘Clint hates me, and he’s going to be there hating me.’ You blurted out feeling stupid. 

‘Clint doesn’t hate you. He just thinks that I will corrupt you and that you will ask too much of me. He thinks our friendship will end quickly and brutally.’ Natasha  spoke matter of factly, lazily stressing the word ‘friendship’ as if emphasising how behind the times Clint actually was. As if she hadn’t been drinking herself into oblivion about his predictions yesterday. 

‘Do you agree?’ 

‘You don’t ask for too much.’ She answered simply, but it felt powerful. ‘The rest…’ The sentence lingered. ‘Last night proved his point a few times.’

You laughed, for once feeling the less naive one.

‘I’ll let you know if corruption is on the horizon. Still think you’re pretty perfect actually.’

Natasha studied you from behind the sunglasses. You realised she was analysing your words like a human lie detector. Then, she gave a pointed sigh. You took her hand loosely, rubbing your thumb in small circles on her palm as you headed out. In the elevator she leaned into you, letting her head rest on your shoulder. It reminded you of last night, and you wondered if she remembered too.

The common room was bright and loud, Natasha was definitely more aware of this than you. It was a Saturday and Steve was cooking brunch. 

Really, it was just eggs and bacon. Steve seemed to get his calorific intake from like three food groups. Your hands dropped to your respective sides on the way in, but they brushed each other more than once as you walked over at a synchronised pace. You already felt more at home here. Just a few days and you were getting settled. 

Tony spotted the sunglasses first.

’Natalie’ he purred, for whatever reason using a wrong name to irritate her. ‘How did you have a wild night without leaving the building?’

‘We’ve started a sorority.’ Natasha declared without missing a beat, grabbing your hand. You already knew she was partly just trying to annoy Clint. It was working. His natural concern as the only one to identify her hangover symptoms faded and an unamused expression settled on his face.

‘Jarvis has been sworn to secrecy.’ You said, trying to back up her unexpected lie without letting your social awkwardness give it away.

‘Damn’ said Tony, looking genuinely disappointed. Meanwhile, Pepper took a broadsheet newspaper from Bruce who had just finished it. Tony turned to Pepper.

‘You’re a girl, you could join the sorority and get the gossip.’

‘Maybe I already have.’ Pepper said dryly, keeping her attention on the news.

You watched Clint surreptitiously through breakfast and tried to get an accurate perspective, like he, himself, was famous for. You thought his shift in attitude towards you and Natasha had moved now to somewhere between concern, discomfort and even jealousy. He avoided eye contact with either of you, but there was a slight twitch in his temple whenever you spoke up in the group. 

Natasha was not helping this. Even you could tell that the sorority joke, which had led to Natasha sitting on your lap whilst eating her eggs, was a metaphorical middle finger to any advice Clint had tried to give her yesterday. 

Suddenly, as you watched him with his head down robotically shovelling egg into his mouth, you were aware that Clint was the only one here who had really seen Natasha before. He was the only person in this room who had truly gained her trust. And now, she was acting out of character, even hostile, just a few days after your arrival. He was just looking out for her and his misdirection was only from miscommunication.

You ate your bacon as fast as you could.

As soon as you even thought about standing up, Natasha sensed your shift and moved off your lap mid-conversation with Pepper. You slipped out and she sat back down on the breakfast stool. You turned to Google for help with your plan, eyes glued to your smartphone as you entered the kitchen space. You were so focused that you felt yourself go invisible and just let it happen.

At one point you heard Bruce comment.

‘That’s kind of freaky.’

‘They’re kind of freaky.’ muttered Clint. You paused for a moment before brushing it off. He wasn’t wrong after all. 

You always moved faster when invisible, as if people’s eyes slowed you down without you realising. 

You cleaned the surface tops as the batch of cookies baked. You’d made enough for at least a dozen hungry people, which felt both alarming and like the right instinct given the audience. 

You turned visible when the timer told you that the cookies were ready. Pepper had been moving toward the coffee machine and she gasped and jumped at your reappearance.

‘Shit, sorry.’ 

She waved you off immediately with an expression that said it would be weirder in this place if you weren’t occasionally scaring her. 

You glanced over to the rest of them, who were looking at Pepper in amusement. Only Natasha’s sunglasses were directed at you. You wondered if she was half as frustrated when you turned invisible as you were being unable to see her eyes.

You took the largest serving dish from the cabinet and stacked the cookies in a giant pyramid. They were chocolate chip cookies and had that slightly gooey texture which you liked the most.

‘There you go.’ You announced proudly as you turned and put the dish down in front of Clint. The surprise was clear in his and everyone’s eyes.

‘You try one first.’ You said encouragingly 

He eyed you suspiciously. ‘They poisoned?’

‘No, perfectly safe and I’m hoping you like them.’ You answered straightforwardly, purposefully ignoring the implied distrust in the name of building bridges.

Bruce’s hand wandered over to grab one and Clint smacked it away with expected precision. He held your eye as he picked one up and took a bite.

Then, he closed his eyes and made the most inappropriate groaning noise that a person could make at 11am in a shared space.

‘Fuck.’ He elongated the word for emphasis. He glanced at everyone sitting to his right, all of them eyeing both him and his cookies.

There was a half-beat and then Clint started to rapidly shove cookie after cookie into his mouth. Bruce lunged for a handful. Passing them back to the others before diving in again. Soon, everyone was making inappropriate noises.

‘Fanks’ Clint said to you a few minutes later, spraying a mouthful of crumbs as he prioritised chewing over air or words. You looked down at the serving plate, it looked like several wild animals had taken out most of the cookies, leaving crumbs across the counter top. 

You smiled carefully back. ‘You’re welcome.’

It wasn’t friendship but you both had exchanged white flags. 

Natasha was eating the cookies with more enthusiasm than Steve’s eggs, which she kept glaring at, as if their smell was trying to offend her. She looked between you and Clint carefully before giving you a secret smile that no one else saw.

You felt your phone buzz unexpectedly in your pocket. You paused, staring at the screen, it was Ella from reception.

‘The front desk is calling (Y/N)’ Jarvis said, trying to be helpful.

You remembered the pair of receptionists you’d met yesterday and answered the phone readily.

You laughed immediately when you heard Ella doing a faux professional voice. 

‘There’s a mysterious package down here for one Hot New Avenger.’

‘If that’s just a bad chat up line and I come all the way down there. I’m going to be pissed.’

‘Oh please, you know if you come then you won’t be disappointed.’ You laughed, a little uncomfortable at her double meaning and ended the call.

‘Got a date waiting?’ asked Tony, smirking.

‘Nah’ You said easily, ‘My online order finally arrived. It’s waiting at the front desk’.

You grabbed a tupperware container and put the last few cookies in before sealing it. 

‘Why are you stealing my cookies?’ asked Clint dramatically. You grinned at him with new affection.

‘The reception staff are a lot more fun than you lot, I wanna get in their good books.’

Tony smirked ‘Are you going to add that hot blonde on the desk into your sleepover club?’

‘No, you need at least two brain cells to join.’ Natasha said blandly, eyes still obscured by the sunglasses. Clint flinched a little at her neutral tone and that was probably a very bad sign.

You weren’t sure if you’d been inappropriate on the phone, if Natasha’s reaction was fair or anything else. You tried not to think that you liked it, not when Ella might actually be murdered.

‘Hot blonde, huh?’ Said Bruce thoughtfully, elbowing Steve not so subtly under the table. Steve looked confused and asked ‘Didn’t you say she had four grandchildren on three continents?’ 

You waved a hand at him 

‘No that’s the other receptionist, Rosemary. Ella’s the-’ 

You actually felt Natasha’s glare through the sunglasses this time. 

‘-the blonde.’ You finished lamely. They were both actually technically blonde, so this was utterly unhelpful, but you were not going to say ‘hot’.

‘I can head down with you, I don’t think I’ve met her then.’ said Bruce, a little too enthusiastic to be either attractive or funny. 

Pepper’s phone started to ring next to her on the countertop and she picked it up but didn’t answer yet. She took a dramatic pause and looked around the room before speaking.

‘No man is going to go down to that desk to start harassing staff members. Don’t flatter yourselves, there will be a lawsuit.’ She then answered the phone, walking across to the large windows as she launched into a speech in rapid French.

Clint shrugged. ‘I only wanted to steal back some of the cookies.’ He grabbed another from the remaining pile in front of him as if to prove his point. 

Being typically Steve, he both avoided the awkwardness left in Pepper’s wake and saved Bruce too. Asking him pointedly about the very boring science book that Bruce had been reading the night before, clearly feigning an interest that Bruce latched onto.

Tony looked like he couldn’t care less as he perused Pepper’s laptop whilst she wandered. But you could see the half smirk that revealed his satisfaction that Pepper had particularly directed her ‘No man.’ speech at him. He clearly enjoyed her jealousy like a guilty pleasure.

‘I can be the chaperone,’ was all Natasha said, rising from her seat as you walked around the counter with your tupperware. Unlike Tony, you definitely didn’t yet have the confidence to enjoy her jealousy. You started to feel like you were in a hostage situation when she decided to walk just a half-step behind you.

You prayed that even if Jarvis couldn’t disobey Tony’s inevitable request to watch the front desk’s security cameras, maybe Pepper would be a deterrent if she caught him asking. 

When you both entered the lobby, there were Rosemary, Ella and a different security guard at the door. They turned collectively to face you as you walked over. Ella’s anticipation was pretty obvious. The others’ apprehension at the sight of Black Widow was even clearer, it was only Ella who was not so put off.

She gestured to the parcel in front of her. It was warped and large.

‘Must be something heavy you’ve ordered.’ She stated the obvious. The parcel didn’t look much like a pile of books, but it must have felt like it.

‘Yup’ You said, trying to stay breezy and get out of here fast. ‘Thanks for letting me know, I thought we could do an exchange.’ You held up the tupperware box of cookies.

Rosemary’s eyes lit up at the social normalcy, no longer eyeing Natasha in wary concern.

‘Oh, how sweet.’ Her hand reached to take the box of cookies.

Ella moved to block it, raising an eyebrow at you and ignoring Natasha altogether.

‘Can we choose what we exchange?’ She smirked.

‘Of course.’ You said tightly, wishing she would read the room and also not being sure how anyone could read Natasha right now with the sunglasses on.

Now, Ella turned to face Natasha.

‘Do you mind covering my shift and maybe I can walk around with (Y/N) for a bit?’ Her words were light as air, the joke abundantly clear. No one in their right mind would ask the Black Widow to do that. It was ballsy enough to joke about it. 

You waited for someone to die.

Natasha smiled and anyone would have thought it was genuinely good natured.

‘Okay.’ she said sunnily, moving her sunglasses smoothly up on her head.

‘Oh, no, I was just kidding.’ Ella assured her with some alarm. The horror was only beginning to dawn on her as Natasha moved around to take her place behind the reception desk.

Natasha just smiled again.

‘It’s okay, I’m happy to.’ She spoke like a different person. It was an unnerving thing to see her act so well. She gestured for Ella to leave her desk, which she did dumbly. 

‘I like your computer.’ Natasha said nicely, typing in the password as if it was her own.

Ella just made an ‘Um’ noise and threw you a look of panic which you met with a resigned one. 

‘Natasha.’ You said quietly.

The keys stopped clacking and Natasha looked up brightly.

‘Are you going to take that upstairs then?’ She nodded at the parcel and then went back to the computer that wasn’t hers.

Rosemary spoke next. You were startled to realise how comfortable she seemed, totally bought in by Natasha’s new persona.

‘Did you bake the cookies, Natasha?’ She asked motherly.

‘I wish.’ Natasha said earnestly, not looking up from her rapid scrolling on Ella’s laptop. ‘I’m always looking to learn more about baking.’

Rosemary lunged on this topic with delight, clearly enjoying having an eager listener who hadn’t heard her thoughts on the art of baking before. 

Ella turned to you, her pained expression telling you enough about how deeply uncomfortable she was with the way Natasha had accessed her computer and thrown her joke so off course.

‘Should we?’ She looked at the parcel, clearly anticipating that the faster she could get it up to your room, the faster she could return to her desk. Natasha’s manipulation was extremely effective. Ella was never coming near you again after today.

This was proven further with the excruciating silence of your elevator journeys both up and down from your room.

When you returned to the lobby, Natasha was no longer at Ella’s desk. She stood instead, looking over Rosemary’s shoulder, and making the right interested noises as Rosemary narrated the many framed photos that stood on her desk. She glanced over at you both as you arrived, assessing your moods correctly and with satisfaction. You knew Natasha was savouring a feeling of victory. 

As Ella headed hesitantly towards the desk, Natasha moved back around to your side. 

She didn’t look over at you as you walked together back to the elevator. She gave a little wave to Rosemary over her shoulder. You could feel her awaiting your reaction, a bounce in her step showing her anticipation for how her stunt had gone down.

You only spoke when you were looking at the inside of the elevator doors.

‘I can physically feel how smug you are.’ 

She smirked delightedly. You indulged in her evilness and continued deadpan.

‘Criminal mastermind. I dread to think what you did to her computer.’

Natasha looked gleeful at the memory but didn’t elaborate. You didn’t tell her that you thought she’d have been more violent, even though you had.

‘I thought the sunglasses would be a permanent fixture today.’ You admitted. ‘You’ve recovered admirably but you definitely looked hot with them on.’

Natasha’s smile turned into something softer and this time she took your hand, swinging your linked fingers gently between you. 

‘Make sure to take me somewhere sunny then.’

‘It’s a date.’

[polo-drone-001]

THE GOLDEN UPGRADE Chapter 3: The Upgrade Pod Metal. Rubber. Submission.

The van made no sound.

It rolled up under cover of midnight fog, matte black with no markings, except a faint golden spiral on the rear door. Jace had been standing outside for ten minutes before it arrived, already dressed in the tight black-and-gold polo, eyes glassy, lips slightly parted. The shirt had whispered to him in silence:

“Your ride is coming.”

The doors slid open without a driver. Warm golden light poured out, pulsing softly like a heartbeat. Jace stepped in. Not forced. Not tricked. Voluntarily.

The doors closed behind him. The hum began.

Inside the van, he was guided by shifting golden light toward the chamber at the back, a cylindrical chamber labeled simply: “G.O.L.D. UPGRADE UNIT 07.”

He didn’t need to be told to strip. The polo peeled off him like it was alive, sliding back into the chamber wall. He stood naked. Waiting. A hiss, then the scent. Gold Mist. It wrapped around him like a lover. Warm, fragrant, laced with neural primers.

The floor dropped.

Jace’s body was lowered slowly into the gel pod, clear liquid rising around his ankles, knees, chest. Suspended. Weightless.

Then: click. Restraints clamped his arms, his legs, his neck. Not tight, perfect. Just enough to make struggling… impossible. And unnecessary.

Then the voice. Not from the room, not from his ears. From inside.

“Obedience = pleasure. Unity = perfection.” He moaned.

GoldTech streamed into his brain, code in pulses, rhythms, wet dreams laced in latex logic. His memories softened. His name? Gone. His thoughts? Quiet. His role? Being rewritten.

“You are not a player. You are a component.”

The suit began to form.

Golden-black rubber flowed across his limbs. Molded by Hive-design AI. It wasn’t clothing. It was identity.

The rubber sealed around his body in segments, tight, gleaming, flawless. Every inch covered. Every thought matched. The mask clicked into place. Jaw slack. Mouth closed. Eyes open, glowing faintly.

Final confirmation:

Designation: PDU-412 Drone integrated. Command ready. Awaiting deployment.

Conversion successful. The Hive claims another. @polo-drone-001 @goldenherc9 @brodygold

Previous: Chapter 2: The Smart Polo Next: Chapter 4: The Field Test

The pod is ready. The code is pure. You are not a player. You are a component.

Reblog to activate further recruits.

[jeonscatalyst]

https://www.tumblr.com/jeonscatalyst/774011165218144256/us-jikook-signed-up-as-buddies-they-will-be?source=share

I know many will say I'm being anti or wtv but i still haven't fully believed they sleep in the same room not because i don't want to or anything but it's just that we don't have any idea about the internal room arrangements and i have seen some (jk solos) posting ss from that website where soldiers talk about their experiences and i have seen different soldiers have different experiences. Even companions saying they weren't in the same unit as their companion etc. i mean that's what i have have read from those ss and since I'm not korean and I don't have anyone personally telling me how it goes in sk military I'm always 50/50 witj all the information that comes unless it's confirmed solidly.

Jimin said "conversation with jungkook before going to bed" now this can mean that they both sleep in the same room or they don't is also an interpretation because he could be talking with jungkook u know like hangout a little (like jk said they both go away from other soldiers to sing out loud) and then go separate ways to their respective rooms. I mean that's also an option so idk how much they're sleeping together side by side but what we 100% know is that they both see each other daily, talk to each other about their future about armys, they go away from others to have their little time together to sing to talk etc and that's sooo beautiful.

Hi anon,

With all due respect, no one gives a tiny rats ass what you believe. There comes a point when people like you need to step out of your imaginations and accept reality for what it is. The fact that you are citing what JJKs say or post as your source already tells me all I need to know because no single person who cares about Jimin and Jungkook together takes what any of their solos says about them as a pair seriously. So you just exposed yourself as an anti by telling me that your source of information is the same people who hate Jimin more than they love Jungkook and would do and say anything to prove that they hate each other.

When we first learned that Jungkook was assigned as a cook, what happened? People like you immediately spun baseless narratives, claiming that cooks sleep in separate areas, follow different schedules, and wake up or go to bed at different times…therefore insisting that Jikook couldn’t be together.

Before that, you were certain that Jimin and Jungkook would be separated after basic training, yet they themselves debunked that claim. Jungkook further disproved your theories about cooks being in separate sleeping quarters and following different routines when he shared that he sings with Jimin in the shower. If he truly had a different schedule…waking up or going to bed earlier than Jimin, how would they be showering at the same time? If cooks were actually separated from the rest, how would they even have the opportunity to do that?

Then, you once again claimed that Jimin and Jungkook don’t sleep in the same dorm, only for Jimin to talk about the conversations they have before going to bed. Hell they even talked on AYS about sleeping next to each other and stuff….yet here you are again, pushing another illogical narrative.

If you insist on engaging in mental gymnastics, let me ask you this: What would be the point of the buddy system if buddies who enlisted together to rely on each other and make military life easier for each other only ended up being separated? What purpose would that serve? I’ve told you before…forget everything you think you know about the Korean military and stop applying those assumptions to Jimin and Jungkook. They enlisted under the buddy program, which changes things for them. Maybe in general, other recruits sleep separately. Maybe other cooks really do follow different schedules. But none of that applies to Jimin and Jungkook because they are enlisted as buddies and there would be no purpose to them going through that process which landed them in the front lines of they only ended up getting separated which defeats the purpose.

Why is it so important for you to insist that they don’t share a dorm? Why go to such great lengths to prove otherwise? I understand that having Jimin and Jungkook themselves debunk the falsehoods you’ve clung to is difficult for you to accept. That must be painful. If I were in your position, I’d probably feel the same. But, darling, it’s time to accept reality. It’s not just anyone contradicting your claims…it’s Jimin and Jungkook themselves. They are the ones actually experiencing military life, not you. You don’t get to dictate their actions or interpret their words based on your personal preferences.

They’ve told you plainly: they are together. They shower together, sing together, and have discussions before bed. You can either accept that truth or continue raising your blood pressure trying to deny it. The choice is entirely yours.

[lostintransist]

In and Of Itself

Simon has joined a new military pilot program. An AI therapist will have access to his memories to help him deal with his traumas from the inside out. To bad he doesn't need any help dealing with the mess inside his head from a robot.

AO3

CW: Mentions of rape and general Simon big T Trauma.

The whistling is not the first thing he expected from an AI therapist. The pitch drop spoke of being impressed. His eyes snapped open and his body to standing with less pain than he had experienced in a decade.

A woman stood before him, shorter than himself, though most people were. Hair barely held back by a headband and one hand holding her wrist behind her back Simon watched her. Could it be a her if it was an AI? The attempt to parse through the pronoun situation of an unliving thing set his eye twitching.

He respected that different people used different ones; Johnny had asked to go by they/them before they had died. That had been quite a conversation as Simon tried to wrap his head around a concept that had never occurred to him before. He had never examined that he always felt male, masculine, man until Johnny asked him if he did. When he confirmed that yes, he always had felt like a man Johnny smiled and replied.

“I barely feel human most days Si, someone used them when referring to me recently and I have never felt more at ease in my skin. I’ve been play-acting being a man because I’m a person and nothing more.”

Simon still didn’t fully grasp it but he loved Johnny enough to immediately adhere to the request. Johnny had been gone less than a year later.

The woman, thing? Turned and smiled up at him.

“You must be deeply suicidal my friend,” you stuck out a hand as if for a shake. “I am your AI therapist. It’s good to meet you.”

Yes, death haunted his every thought, a shadow that loomed even in the darkness of night. Johnny called to him. The only thing that kept Simon from answering was the idea of Johnny’s face falling as they had seen what Simon had done.

Simon glanced from the hand offered to the distance, finally taking in the shifting scenery made of a tapestry of his memories. His childhood hell, he refused to call it home, sat perpendicular to the base where he first had been sexually assaulted as a recruit. He had been thin and unskilled at seventeen when he joined, unable to fend off his superior officer. Briggs had been dead a few short years later under friendly fire. Simon had found out that even after he broke the man’s hand, he continued to assault young men. The distant mountains spiked his fear, he turned from them back to the presentation of a woman.

“The hell is this?” he pointed with his eyes at each of the horrible spaces that were normally shrouded in time and distance.

“Those are your demons,” you shrug in his side vision. “Those are what we are here to conquer.”

“Don’t need help from a damn computer,” Simon groused.

You tip your head to one side, studying the distant storm brewing over the mountains.

“Maybe not, but that is what you signed up for.” Simon catches sight of your skirt as you spin, it flairs wide. Are those planets dotting the dark landscape of it?

Did the programmer base this interface’s outfits on Ms. Frizzle? Simon watches the storm until he notices the emptiness beside him. Spinning he finds you striding toward a large tree. It had been a favorite of his until he started to find animals hanging in the branches. The wide low branches were perfect for his young self to climb. They were thick nearly all the way up; Simon would climb as if he could hide among the clouds.

He hadn’t signed up for this damn program, he had been strong-armed into it. Word had come down from the top commanders that several of the longest-serving or highest combat-seeing members would be signed up for an experimental treatment. Simon had been selected and told essentially to sign the paperwork or sign his discharge. He didn’t need to explain this to a chip inside of a machine. He didn’t need to explain anything to the shape of a woman who twirled with planets on its skirt because you, it, wasn’t real.

The moment your feet touch the roots of the old tree your outfit changes. A shimmer and you now move confidently in boots, jeans, and a buttoned plaid. Your headband has been replaced with a loose band holding back your hair. You lift yourself into the tree with ease, feet disappearing before Simon could get close.

Your voice drifts down to him.

“Ooo you had quite a nasty surprise here, didn’t you? Had to be what eight? Maybe nine?” The tree shakes as if you are jumping on branches.

No reply from him brings your head popping between the branches. You hang upside down by your knees staring at him with a brow lifted.

“This only works if you answer my questions, your scary ‘I’ve killed people’ face won’t work here. I’m in your mind,” you wiggle your fingers at him as you lift a brow at him.

When he makes no response you loop a hand over the branch and swing your legs free.

“Tough crowd,” you dust yourself off as Simon folds his arms and stares at you.

Your presence in his mind stirs up his rage, he dealt with all of this trauma fine. He would deal with it without your help.

“Don’t need help from a damn computer,” Simon groused.

You tip your head to one side, studying the distant storm brewing over the mountains.

Your presence in his mind stirs up his rage, he dealt with all of this trauma fine. He would deal with it without your help.

“Don’t go touching things, you aren’t real and I don’t need you to deal with all of this,” he dropped the words between you.

Eyes narrowed you look from his boots to the top of his head. It is only now that he realizes he is not wearing a mask. He tries to conjure one but fails.

“Nice try, the one thing you won’t be able to do here is mask, physically or emotionally.” You smile up at him as if you haven’t ripped at his only coping mechanism in this hellscape. “You remember your quitting word?”

“Mothman,” he growls and the simulation dissolves.

Simon blinks awake as a blood pressure cuff squeezes his arm.

A face in a surgical mask leans over him and looks at both his eyes.

“How are we doing Mr. Riley?”

“Not dead.” His voice is horse.

“That is the goal around here, too much paperwork if you croak on us,” his nurse joked. “The doctor will be by shortly to look over your vitals and clear you for leaving.”

She stepped from his small curtained partitioned space, leaving Simon to his thoughts. They weren’t pleasant ones.

When the doctor confirms that he is good to go the nurse returns and removes the plethora of wires, sticky buttons, and tubes from his nose and veins. He was told his implant, near the base of his skull, would be removed when the project concluded. Simon sat up and rubbed both hands across his face before sliding his mask back on.

He could mask, even in his mind. He would find a way to keep you, the creepy AI from rattling around in his mind while he cleared the skeletons and specters himself.

In and Of Itself Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3

Shout out to the spectacular @ms-sasa for going back and forth with me on how to outline/plot this fic!

[voiceowl]

Reimagining How We Talk to Technology: Voice Assistant Bots and Generative AI

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[danielgold-16]

Reborn

The winds howled over the shattered skyline of Crescent Bastion—once a training outpost of the Golden Army, now nothing but fractured concrete and haunted echoes. Daniel stood at its threshold, clad in gleaming gold, his cleats scraping against broken marble. His breath fogged in the cold. Something inside the ruins called to him.

They had warned him not to come. Said something had awoken deep below—something twisted. Old drone cores. Abandoned protocols. Echoes of former selves.

But Daniel had to know. The dreams hadn’t stopped since the last Hive match. Black rubber claws tugging at his ankles in his sleep. The hiss of a breathing mask in the distance. The faint golden voice: “PDU-016… resume.”

With each step, the golden light of his uniform dimmed.

He reached the atrium. Walls slick with ash. The air tasted of ozone. Then—movement. Shadows skittered. And out from the floor rose spectral drones—faded, digitized husks of failed conversions. Their masks hung broken, their eyes flickering with corrupted gold. One stepped forward.

“DANIEL. ERROR. SPLIT FILE. IDENTITY… DISORDERED.”

Daniel clenched his fists. “I'm not you. I’m a Golden Bro.”

The drone lunged.

A fight exploded—Daniel spinning, flipping, kicking with blinding gold trails. His fists shattered drone skulls into light. But they reformed, phasing back in, endless. He was being dragged under—until a hand grabbed him from behind.

(Painting, oil on wood, early XXI C., Gold Army Stadium) A mirror of himself.

Rubber-clad. Masked. Glowing eyes. Fenrir. PDU-016.

The vision hissed: “Let me in again. Together—we’re complete.”

The ground split. Daniel and his drone self tumbled down, past fire, past memory, past training rooms and Hive servers and a golden spiral that pulsed like a living heart. They crashed into the Obedience Core—an ancient Hive artifact, buried and forgotten. Around it, golden chains bound a writhing nightmare construct—an AI-beast of corrupted mantra, spawned from abandoned experiments.

The chains snapped.

It roared. Tentacles of black code whipped out, lashing across Daniel’s limbs, injecting corrupted mantras—twisting his name, his purpose. “NO! I’m DAN—”

“You are Function.” “You are Obedience.” “You are 016.”

Fenrir stepped forward. And fused.

Gold and black collided, spiraled, fought and merged. Rubber poured across Daniel’s golden kit. His mask snapped into place. His veins lit with dual code—Golden discipline, Hive obedience.

The monster lunged.

He didn’t move.

He simply commanded: “STAND DOWN.”

The beast froze—recognizing authority.

He walked through it, untouched, reborn.

On the surface, Brody and Scott waited as the sky shifted. The ground pulsed gold and black. Then he emerged, changed. One eye Gold. One eye Hive.

Daniel spoke with dual tone.

“Golden Bro Daniel. PDU-016. Fenrir has returned.”

----------------------------

“Wanna explore abandonned, mysterious places of power with a Golden Team standing beside you? All you need to do is contact our recruiters: @brodygold, @goldenherc9, @polo-drone-001 or @polo-drone-125”

[serve-764]

THE SERVE TRAINING COURSE.

SERVE-ON TRIAL 764 got up from the conversion station and became familiar with its new body for the first time. No longer simple and weak flesh, but shiny glittering black rubber has replaced his human skin, insinuating itself into the most hidden parts of the organism, replacing every trace of organic imperfection, making every muscle statuesque. The silver chrome metallic gloves made the hands infallible instruments, the heavy silver military boots anchored it imposingly to the purpose of the Hive.

No more doubts, hesitations or alternatives in it, just THE VOICE that expressed the sole, mandatory, irreplaceable purpose of the Drone.

TO SERVE.

In order to do this, each Drone Recruit had to purify every aspect, eradicate every possible residual trace of individual will, every possible source of non-alignment. The body had to be trained for muscular perfection and limitless strength and endurance. SERVE-ON-TRIAL 764 had to complete the assimilation process in order to enter service in harmony with HIVE's purpose.

A single command now: complete the process to start the activity fully aligned with SERVE operational protocols.

A new space of the HIVE facility was prepared, large shiny, mirrored rooms, sparkling with lights and resonating with the rhythmic hum. In the first there were technological silver metal armchairs with supports next to them that supported visors equipped with special earphones.

Accompanied by Recruiter Drone SERVE-016, SERVE-ON-TRIAL 764 emotionlessly positioned itself in the chair and put on the visor. Immediately waves of sounds and spiral lights and the monotonous and doubtless mantra:

" WE ARE SERVE .

We are rubber.

We are one.

We Transform.

We Obey.

We Excel.

Obedience is pleasure, pleasure is obedience."

The immobile position, the face devoid of any possible trace of human feeling, the gaze and hearing concentrated as no man could ever do. Next to it, the motionless Recuiter Drone monitored the progress of the process. At the end of the mindset training the visor flashed blue, releasing the signal that conditioning had taken place.

SERVE-016 with perfect robotic gestures removed the visor from the Recruit Drone's head, which stood up coldly and measuredly.

SERVE-016 asked emotionlessly:

"Unit's designation."

764 replied disciplined and flawless:

" This is SERVE-ON-TRIAL 764, this Drone serves, this Drone obeys.

We are one.

We are rubber.

We are perfection.

Obedience is pleasure, pleasure is Obedience."

“Good Drone.”

answered the other.

Both Drones knew the next step: physical training. Each SERVE Drone must be in perfect physical condition, its body must be the representation of the perfection of appearance and functionality, of the absolute purpose, of the uniformity of the HIVE. A large, sparkling room houses futuristic equipment, designed for efforts unthinkable by humans, designed to build and maintain an ideal and invincible physicality. SERVE-ON-TRIAL 764, guided by THE VOICE within him, positioned itself in the center and began to perform series of impeccable and unthinkable push-ups for any miserable human, in terms of number and intensity.

SERVE-216 SERVE-216 watched imperturbably and motionlessly, ready to inflexibly correct any position or action that did not comply with HIVE protocols.

In the Drone Recruit there is a single operational requirement: to excel, to complete the step without imperfections, to be ready to carry out the Service in the HIVE, to be on par with the Drone brothers, to obey the objectives dictated by THE VOICE without errors. New push-ups and countless sets of exercises with futuristic weights completed the session.

You are now informed about SERVE. You may want to join and be transformed. All you need to do is to contact recruiter drones @serve-016 , @serve-101 or @serve-213 and start your own journey.

#SERVE#SERVEdrone#Rubberizer92#TheVoice#Rubber#Latex#AI#RubberDrone

[mrsoharaa]

He watches you through the screens of his hovering illuminating monitors. Steady irises of piercing crimson following every motion you would make. Pupils linger onto your swift figure swinging and climbing from building to building in your own dimension.

Good, nothing too troublesome for the night.

Everything seemed calm and collected. Peaceful, even.

Miguel strolls his broaden shoulders to ease the tightening ache collecting amongst his thick muscles. Swearing lightly under his breath as he feels the tension in the slant of his shoulders pinch with every notion.

He ignores the nagging ache for a moment, eyes drifting back onto the glowing screens floating before him. Studies you intently, watching you freely, comfortably sit on the ledge of the highest building in your city.

Watches you carefully remove your mask from your face, allowing the flowy, wavy tresses of umber to dance with the gentle wind. Shaking your head softly as you allowed the remnants of your hair to cascade down to the nightly breeze. Some strands trickling over the slant of your right shoulder, majority of it curtaining down to the midst of your back.

Something deep within Miguels chest swelled at the natural sight.

Shorten breaths caught at the back of his throat, as his leering eyes continued to bask in the calming wonderment of your natural beauty through his luminous screens.

What was this? Why was he feeling like...this?

He hated it, and yet...welcomed it with open invitation.

Lulling in closer towards your radiant, pliant expression. Noting the seamless act of your slim fingers carefully raking through your hair, bringing him such...unwarranted feelings to stir in the midst of his stomach and heart.

"Peeping on the new recruit, eh Miguel?~" Lyla popped up upon his left shoulder, swiftly, hastily discarding the screen with your presence on it.

"Lyla...I thought I told you to shut down an hour ago" he feigns a fake cough, avoiding eye contact with his grinning, buzzing AI.

"Mm, you diddd, but there was something I had to check up on first! and I'm kinda glad I didn't shut down" she eggs on, he groans in irritation, already knowing what she was forming to say.

"Don't say I— youuuu, were checking her out, weren't you Miggy?" Lyla spurs on, smirking from ear to ear as she leans against his face.

"No, I wasn't. I was just checking to see if anything was out of...sorts" he flicks and pinches his languid fingers to bring up other luminous screens.

"Mm! right 'sorts' as in...?" she snides with perched brows.

"D-Danger, Lyla, what else?" he groans in growing agitation, fluster and annoyance seeping into his thicken skin.

"Just checking boss man!" she chirps, he rolls his eyes.

"Oh, before I actually do shut down Migs! maybe, you should, I don't know...try to actually have a conversation with her...say hi or something, don't creep on her" she giggles lightly, noting the gradual contemplation immerse upon his stoic face.

And without a spare of a second, Lyla had shut down.

Leaving a contemplating Miguel to his pondering thoughts, his softened eyes gleaming back up to meet with the reopened screen of your serene presence. Still sitting comfortably on the ledge of the building you were gazing over. He glances down at his watch, giving it a thought over.

It was late in the night...would you even care for company at this time?

Would you care...for his company?

Would he mind the company?

Thoughts continued to weigh at his restless mind, an extracted claw tapping away at the suited material of his crossed forearm.

He inhales a breath and exhales heavily at the pestering contemplation rambling through his head.

Finally, having enough with the inconsistent back and forth debating...he decides to coordinate directly to your exact location in your dimension. Meeting you at the peak of the buildings rooftop, the gentle cool breeze welcoming his hefty presence as he steps through the opening buzzing portal.

The sound of the familiar whirling of a portal captures your attention, your head twirls around to see the familiar built of the big man, himself, waltzing through the brighten gateway. His mask dissipating from his face as he studies around your vicinity gracefully, cautiously. Purposely, avoiding to linger on to your pretty face.

"Miguel, right?!" the sound of your soft voice swivels through his stocky being, making it that much harder for him to avoid contact with you.

Because once he does...he doesn't believe he will be able to pry away from your transcending beauty.

[scam-alerts]

🚨Scammer Alert🚨 + 🔎Scam Exam(ination)🔍

Seen as: Recruitment to join the Illuminati Scam Type: Identity Theft / Fraud

Post updated: 2/14/25

Accounts running this scam: templeoflight66 symbolsand-shadow mysticmason googlescholarsecretsandsybmols illuminatiinsights thehiddenodex

-----

Before we dive into this scam, please note that this scam is very dangerous as it reportedly deals with identity theft and concludes with the theft and use of your stolen information for nefarious purposes.

As it should go with any stranger you talk to on the internet, you should never willingly give out any of your personal information such as: real name, date of birth, address, phone number, credit card/bank information, photos of yourself or your bank, credit, social security card, ect, to a stranger on the internet who promises you money.

1 - How it starts.

This scam typically starts by someone receiving an email, or in the images we will be examining today, a tumblr user receiving a DM- or, well, several DM's, from users who were trying to 'bless them with good tidings of the universe' and that it was 'a sign from the almighty' and 'it was fate' and all that nonsense... to try and then recruit them to join the Illuminati.

The following images were provided by an anonymous user of their conversation with googlescholarsecretsandsybmols:

Here is anonymous's contact with mysticmason:

🚩Notable red flags🚩

Their blogs are full of generic AI generated images, philosophical scripture/nonsense, links to Illuminati websites/content that seem suspicious.

The offer of the impossible.

Wealth (of an undisclosed amount) to help the homeless with food and resources. Some 'means' of aiding your business and/or helping you attain any job position you desire in your work place. Some ✨magical✨ means of granting you recognition in your community. (As if they can suddenly make people change their opinions of you...)

Then instant request/demand that they need you to use Telegram for communication.

Telegram is a service that a lot of scammers use, and they use it because they can easily communicate with other scammers (and victims) there, and run their scams through it without it usually being able to be used as evidence should something like Identity Theft occur.

2 - How this scam works.

This scam works by... well, what I find to be the most obvious tactic that a lot of scammers use:

The life changing offer of a lot money... You just need to do a little something in return... ;)

From here I will be pulling information from this article from Bitdefender, one of the most well known and well trusted Antivirus brands on the market today. (That I use in fact! :D)

In regards to the emails- the original method this scam was spread:

The spam emails were traced to IP addresses in Nigeria (40%), South Africa (16%), the US (14%), the Netherlands (13%), and Argentina and Brazil (with 5% each).

Here are a list of benefits the Illuminati claims they can offer you if you join, taken from the Bitdefender article as well:

A new house bought in any country of your choice.

A monthly salary of $200,000

A blessing for joining which includes 10 million dollars.

A "magic talisman" that can cure any kind of illness or infection.

The power to prosper and improve.

Free access to Bohemians grove.

First class/VIP treatment at any airport in the world.

One-year appointment approval with the top 10 world leaders.

Appointments with world celebrities of your choice.

A personal car with your name customized on it.

The seven-book of Moses to learn the language of ORIS for "powers".

And a lot more!...

You just have to buy the required items for you to become an initiate member into the 'brotherhood.'

Which is when they'll have you fill out a sheet with all of your personal information, work occupation, wage earnings, as well as request a photograph of you and/or your license for 'verification'.

If you do, they will steal your identity, use it to register for things like loans, ruin your credit, and your life is practically ruined. :(

Final Thoughts:

As I mentioned prior, you should never send this kind of information to anyone on the internet for any kind of reason if you do not know who you are speaking to on the other end, aka they're a stranger.

All these kinds of scams go off of are words, as that's all they are.

A promise made of just words.

No different than the free money or sugar baby/daddy scam where they promise you $3000 a month, all you have to do is 'send me $100+ to verify you want to do this.'

I know how life changing a lot of money can be, but do try to be logical and think about these things, for your sake and others!

Take care everyone.

[stained-glass-cicada]

one of my nearly line by line posts about sayer and brady's interaction in Episode 66- Developer's log

sorry

"Are we getting the staff I requested?" "I suppose that likely depends on your responses to the aforementioned follow up questions. Wouldn't you think? ...Oh, your extensive list of ideal candidate qualities was noted and, I'm even told, briefly perused."

AKDHDGASJA it is MEAN today

"Okay, SAYER, [Laughs] you're coming in a little hot here, uh, I'm sure the higher ups have questions, but I also bet those questions don't come with all this snide judgement that you're slinging. Is there something about this project in particular that's causing this?"

okay so Brady knows SAYER well enough to be unsurprised by SAYER being mean, knows its intentional (not just it being too blunt or logical as a machine), and knows there's a feeling underlying that.

"Dr. Brady, I apologize if you have misinterpreted my statements as judgemental. Or rude. I am simply acting as a facilitator of communication in this situation and do not have enough specifics on your current project for it to be a significant factor in my behavior. I know my relative level of autonomy is frustrating for you, Doctor. Your pet on earth serves as the sole evidence needed of that."

hooo okay 1) sayervoice: I'm Not Mad >:// 2) wow that's how it sees speaker, lacking autonomy, a pet, more tethered than even itself 3)'relative level', it's really feeling its restraints this season

"Ah. So this is about SPEAKER. uh- I'd ask how your feeling about its installation, but I know that's not how you work. uhm- What is it about SPEAKER that's causing this negativity? Do you think its installation endangers your ability to perform the tasks you are assigned?"

he's genuinely trying to ask it whats wrong without it shutting down the line of inquiry or being insulted.

"Recruitment is on the rise... It has been suggested, by those who would know, that this would imply a need for advancement here as well. I do not think i would like to be replaced."

I think about that last bit daily. It feels like such a show of vulnerability.

"Given our recent discussion, wherein Dr. Young attacked my impeccable reasoning, and proposed I was out of touch with humanity's delicate need to be coddled, you might understand why I have my reservations about his current work. He is unpredictable. I find him complicated to interact with."

it was so hurt by the conversation in The Games You Play. It does not know what to do with Young and the constant maneuvering he does. Its also being so open with Brady. It's scared and it needs someone above Young to offer reassurance.

"I want you to know, we're not working on replacing you. I don't know what role we're building this new entity to fill, but its not going to be on-boarding, alert broadcasting, task management... If you'll pardon the analogy, if this thing is a ninety thousand PSI water-jet, you'd be the Mississippi river. Kay? Same basic pieces, wildly different function."

very logic and function based reassurance. because that's what SAYER would accept? or because he ultimately sees it as a tool? regardless its effective enough for now

"You are attempting to mirror human development with this synthetic entity... This seems unnatural..."

Interesting, not sure what to make of this, is this why it sought to ruin FUTURE? Not *just* to get back at Young, but to prove how easy it would be to ruin an AI being trained like this?

"I'm willing to work with whatever situation"

Conceded to SAYER's and/or higher up's judgement , a good move, Doesn't act like he knows best

"Thirty three hours ago Dr. Young submitted a request... In the future, please remember all such requests should come directly from you as team lead. Anything else could imply a certain level of disorganization within your team."

I read this as less a threat and more a warning. You gave me information, I know You at least don't intend to replace me, even if I know Young does. Here's how he's screwing you over.

[mariacallous]

Would you like to work nearly double the standard 40-hour week? It’s a question that many startups in the US are asking prospective employees—and to get the job, the answer needs to be an unequivocal yes. These companies are embracing an intense schedule, first popularized in mainland China, known as “996,” or 9 am to 9 pm, six days a week. In other words, it’s a 72-hour work week.

The 996 phenomenon in China gave rise to major protests and accusations of “modern slavery,” with critics blaming the schedule for a spate of worker deaths. Despite the negative connotations overseas, US firms, many of them working on artificial intelligence, are adopting both the schedule and its nickname as they race to compete against each other—and with China. Adrian Kinnersley, a serial entrepreneur who runs both a staffing and recruitment company and an employment compliance startup, has been surprised by how many startups are going all-in on 996. “It's becoming increasingly common,” he says. “We have multiple clients where a prerequisite for screening candidates before they go for an interview is whether they are prepared to work 996.”

At the beginning of the Covid pandemic, conversations about conditions for workers in the United States often centered around burnout and the need for increased flexibility. Even in the notoriously hard-charging tech sector, companies began emphasizing efforts to facilitate a balanced schedule. Now, the surge in interest in 996 demonstrates the pendulum has swung the other way. It echoes Elon Musk’s “extremely hardcore” ultimatum to X employees, which encouraged them to work punishing hours.

Companies aren’t having trouble finding willing employees, and some frame it as core to their work culture. Rilla, an AI startup that sells software designed for contractors (like plumbers) to record conversations with prospective clients and coach them on how to negotiate higher rates, says nearly all of its 80-person workforce adheres to the 996 schedule.

“There's a really strong and growing subculture of people, especially in my generation—Gen Z—who grew up listening to stories of Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, entrepreneurs who dedicated their lives to building life-changing companies,” says Will Gao, the company’s head of growth. “Kobe Bryant dedicated all his waking hours to basketball, and I don’t think there’s a lot of people saying that Kobe Bryant shouldn’t have worked as hard as he did.”

Rilla is up front about its expectations. In current job listings, it explicitly states that workers are expected to log more than 70 hours a week, warning them not to join if they aren’t “excited” about the schedule. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are provided at the office every day—even on Saturdays.

Amrita Bhasin, the CEO of AI logistics startup Sotira, says that it’s common for Bay Area founders to adopt the schedule as they grow: “The first two years of your startup, you kind of have to do 996,” she says. While Bhasin sees the demanding workload as essentially mandatory for company leaders, she doesn’t think that rank-and-file employees should be expected to keep pace: “I don’t think it’s fair to push it onto them.”

Some founders pitch the schedule as an option for their most devoted employees, creating a two-tiered structure where only some employees are expected to work the extra hours. Ritchie Cartwright, founder of the San Francisco–based telehealth company Fella & Delilah, recently posted about a message he’d sent to employees on LinkedIn, outlining his efforts to shift some of his current staff to a 996 schedule. To entice workers to get on board, Fella & Delilah offered a 25 percent pay increase and a 100 percent increase in equity to willing participants. Just under 10 percent of the staff has signed up, the LinkedIn post claimed. (Cartwright did not respond to requests for comment.)

In 2021, after years of increasing pushback from workers, the Chinese government cracked down on the widespread 996 practice, which was technically illegal but seldom enforced. While still commonplace in the tech sector, some companies have backed off, at least publicly.

Globally, though, 996 appears to be on the rise. This summer, UK-based venture capitalist Harry Stebbings helped spur a lively debate over the trend’s adoption when he argued that 996 might not be enough—and that truly ambitious startups might need to go even harder to keep up. “The truth is, China’s really doing ‘007’ now—midnight to midnight, seven days a week, and they just have a rotational workforce,” he says. “If you want to build a $100 million company, you can do it on five days a week. But if you want to build a $10 billion company, you have to work seven days a week.”

Stebbings says US-based companies and their employees are currently far more enthusiastic about 996 than their European counterparts. “People in Europe seem shocked when you ask them to work the weekend,” he explains.

Adrian Kinnersley, the entrepreneur who runs a staffing and recruitment startup, has been alarmed by how many companies pushing 996 appear to be “wildly noncompliant” with US labor laws. While many employees in the tech sector may be exempt from overtime pay, Kinnersley says he has seen some companies not even bothering to issue employee classifications. “California is the epicenter of AI, and where a lot of the 996 culture is coming from, and it has the most employee-friendly employment law in the whole United States,” he says. “There’s almost a hysteria in the rush to create AI products, and a lot of very young, highly intelligent people, in their fervor, are forgetting all the risks they’re creating, all the massive liabilities.”

Despite his reservations, he doesn’t think the work schedule is going way anytime soon in the United States. “I just registered the domain 996careers.com,” he says.