#data masking methods

[neilsblog]

Enhancing Data Security with Data Masking: Safeguarding Sensitive Information

In today’s digital age, Data Masking that drives business decisions, product development, and customer engagement. Organizations collect vast amounts of data to improve their products and services and to support their business operations. However, with this wealth of information comes the responsibility to protect it from misuse, unauthorized access, and breaches. In an increasingly…

[ghostlynightpanda]

Hello! Calculations of Trust is amazing! Can you do a second part? 🥹

Calculations of Trust - Part 2

Synopsis: After forming an alliance with Chishiya, you soon discover your feelings for him are growing. But what happens when a game arrives that puts your trust in each other to the ultimate test?

warnings/content: Chishiya x fem!reader, fluff, canon-typical blood and violence, 1.860 words

Part 1

You were in the library.

The Beach's version of one, anyway — a dusty corner room on the second floor of the hotel, filled with abandoned books and furniture that didn't quite match. Most people didn't come here. They were either too drunk or too afraid to be alone with their thoughts.

But you didn't mind the quiet.

You were scanning through a game log you'd reconstructed — pieced together from memory, overheard conversations, and fragmentary notes left behind by the dead. You'd pinned four distinct player behavior patterns. All predictable. All exploitable.

A soft knock interrupted your train of thought.

You didn't need to look up.

"You usually don't knock," you said.

Chishiya stepped inside, hands in his hoodie pockets, moving with that same silent grace he always had. He didn't sit right away — just stood near the doorway, like he hadn't quite decided if this visit was necessary.

"I'm trying something new," he replied, voice dry. "Thought it might make me seem less intrusive."

You marked your page with a folded napkin and looked up at him, brows raised. "Is this your version of small talk?"

"Only if it works."

You allowed a quiet smile to form, small and fleeting.

He finally moved closer and pulled up a chair across from you. You noticed the folder under his arm — worn, creased, a little too organized to be accidental.

You gestured toward it. "More game data?"

He nodded, placing it on the table between you like a peace offering. "I wrote down some of the stories from other survivors—descriptions of games, their rules. Figured we might need to start predicting what comes next, beyond just the cards."

You flipped it open without hesitation. Charts. Player groupings. Hypotheses. It was methodical — not unlike your own work, though a bit more ruthless in its assumptions.

"You've been busy," you murmured, scanning the pages. "Didn't think the Beach parties left room for homework."

"They don't," Chishiya said evenly, watching you instead of the files. "But I prefer reality over distraction."

You hummed. "We're similar in that."

He didn't deny it. Just leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing in thought.

"You've started tracking emotional spikes during Hearts games," he said after a moment, tapping a note you'd scribbled in the margins.

You looked up. "I wanted to see if there's a predictable limit to compassion before it collapses into self-preservation."

His expression didn't change, but something shifted behind his eyes. "You're not just playing the games. You're analyzing the people."

"So are you," you shot back.

A beat passed.

Then Chishiya smiled — barely. "That's why this works."

You should've felt satisfaction at the confirmation. Instead, you felt... steady. Like this was inevitable, a pattern that had always been unfolding beneath the surface.

The day was winding down, the sky bruised violet and orange as you and Chishiya walked along the hotel balcony. Below, the Beach still buzzed with music and laughter — hollow things. Masking the weight no one wanted to carry.

You carried it anyway. Always had.

"I used to think working with someone would slow me down," you said, eyes on the horizon.

"I still think it's risky," Chishiya replied. "But the data says otherwise."

You looked over at him. "You mean I say otherwise."

A flicker of a smirk played at his lips. "Same thing."

You shook your head, exhaling a quiet laugh — one of the few since arriving here.

He didn't smile again. But he didn't look away either. Instead, he said, almost offhandedly, "I trust your analysis more than anyone else here."

It was quiet, but it landed with weight.

You didn't respond right away. Because trust in this world wasn't light. It wasn't casual. It could kill you. But it could also be the one thing that made survival possible.

And this — whatever this was — had become more than strategic convenience.

You didn't just work well together.

You understood each other. Silently. Sharply.

"I trust yours too," you said finally.

Chishiya's expression didn't change much. But something in his posture softened — barely perceptible, but there.

And when you both turned back toward the sky, the silence between you wasn't empty anymore.

It was full.

Of possibility.

You noticed it the way you noticed everything else — in the details.

In the way your heartbeat started to spike when Chishiya approached unexpectedly. In the way your eyes started finding him in a room before your brain even told them to. In the way silence between you wasn't just tolerable anymore — it was safe.

At first, you tried to ignore it. Reframed it as data. Proximity breeds familiarity. Familiarity breeds behavioral shifts. It was basic psychology. Predictable. Manageable.

But then it stopped being manageable.

The moment you caught yourself waiting — not just for the next game, but for him. For his opinion, for his sarcasm, for that flicker of interest he didn't show anyone else.

That was when you knew.

You were becoming attached.

And that… was dangerous.

You told yourself it didn't matter. That survival still came first. That the calculations didn't change just because your chest started to tighten every time he said your name in that low, unbothered voice.

But the truth was — it did change something. It made your logic slower. Not your intelligence, never that, but your emotional processing was no longer a controlled environment.

You'd caught yourself looking at him longer than necessary during strategy meetings. You began noting not just his conclusions, but how his hands moved when he spoke, how his voice dipped when something genuinely intrigued him.

You knew what it was.

You were falling for him.

In any other world, maybe you'd admit it. Maybe even explore it.

But not here.

Not in a world where alliances died and people with kind eyes stabbed each other in the back before breakfast. Not in a world where trust was currency, and affection could be the most lethal misstep of all.

So you did what you always did.

You pushed it aside.

You filed the emotion into a locked part of your mind, like an equation with no solvable output. Not until the system changed. Not until this world gave you a reason to believe it wouldn't turn that feeling into a weakness.

Still, some nights — when the Beach was loud and the stars were sharp overhead — you'd find yourself walking past the room where Chishiya stayed in, maybe sleeping, maybe analyzing god-knows-what. You never knocked. Never went in.

But you always paused.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to make sure he was still there.

Just long enough to know you still cared.

And then, you'd walk away — as if the moment hadn't mattered at all.

Even though you knew it did.

The city was dead quiet.

Not just quiet in the absence-of-sound kind of way, but in the suffocating kind of silence where even your own footsteps felt too loud. The dying neon lights of the last game flickered above, casting fractured patterns on the rain-slick pavement as you and Chishiya walked side by side.

No one spoke.

The game was over.

You'd survived. Both of you had. That should've been enough.

But something still clung to the edges of your thoughts — something neither of you seemed ready to name.

The car was parked a block away. The walk felt longer tonight. Every shadow looked like a threat. You didn't know why you were so quiet — maybe the adrenaline hadn't faded, or maybe it had and now there was just the echo of what could've happened. What should've happened.

Chishiya walked slightly ahead of you, hands in his pockets, hoodie drawn up just enough to shield his expression.

When you reached the car, he didn't get in right away. He stood there beside the door, staring out at the hollow skyline, the kind that never felt like home anymore.

Then, finally — a quiet sigh.

He slid into the driver's seat. You got in on the passenger side. Still no words.

The engine rumbled to life, headlights slicing through the mist.

"We shouldn't be alive."

His voice was so soft, so matter-of-fact, it almost didn't register as strange. But it was strange — because Chishiya didn't usually talk first. And never like that.

You turned your head slowly, watching his profile as the light from the dashboard cast a soft glow along the curve of his jaw.

"That game," he said, fingers tightening slightly on the wheel, "wasn't designed for both of us to survive."

He didn't sound angry. Or shaken. Just... confused. Like he'd found a problem in an equation that didn't balance.

"It made more sense to betray you," he continued. "Or for you to betray me. That would've been smart."

You let out a quiet breath. "But we didn't."

He looked at you now. Really looked.

"No," he said. "We didn't. We trusted each other. And that... that wasn't logical. You would've been guaranteed to survive if you'd betrayed me. But you risked your life — put your trust in me."

Silence fell again. But it wasn't heavy this time — just real.

You leaned back against the seat, the hum of the car grounding you.

"Same goes for you. You trusted me too. You didn't betray me."

"We survived because we were lucky," Chishiya continued, ignoring your interjection. "Not because we based our solution on logic. Based on the facts, both of us should've died. It doesn't make sense why we chose trust."

You gave a breath of laughter — too tired to be sharp, too raw to be bitter. You didn't look at him when you said it: "We made a choice. Not based on numbers or odds or strategy. Just... based on you. On me."

There was something fragile in the quiet after that. Something that felt like a first step onto ice that might not crack after all.

"You know why I didn't betray you," you said eventually. Not a question. You were sure he knew how you felt.

"I know," he murmured.

"You think we're weak for it?"

A pause. "I used to."

You turned your head just slightly, just enough to meet his eyes again. "But now?" you asked.

His jaw worked for a moment — not in conflict, just in consideration. Then he spoke, quieter than before. "Now I think maybe we're just… human."

You nodded once, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. Not quite a smile — but something like it.

"And maybe," he added, "not everything has to make sense."

The rain dropped softly onto the windshield, tapping out a soft pattern. And without looking, without further planning, his hand brushed against yours.

You didn't move away.

Not immediately. Not instinctively. You simply… paused.

Then, gently — as if either of you moved too fast it would shatter the moment — your fingers shifted.

And intertwined.

No words.

No glances.

Just a subtle squeeze — a silent acknowledgment of everything you couldn't say yet. Everything you didn't need to.

For once, the world didn't demand survival.

For once, you let yourself just feel.

Side by side. Fingers laced. Two minds that once thrived in isolation… Now, somehow, beating in sync.

And for now, that was enough.

Masterlist

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Another headcanon request: How would Harley do his interviews with the test subjects (children)? Is he gentle with them? What is he like? Like with the paper recording his and Quinn’s interactions, especially with y/n in the room

🧠 Harley Sawyer’s Interview Style With Test Subjects (Children) - Headcanon 👁️

📽️ Setting: Clinical but “friendly” façade

The interview rooms are always monitored with cameras and audio.

A child-friendly set design: warm lights, toys scattered subtly, maybe even posters.

On the surface, it’s meant to look like a safe space — to build trust. But it’s all fabricated. Every element in that room was calculated by Harley to manipulate response and compliance.

🧊 His Demeanor When Alone with a Subject

Unnaturally calm, with a slow and measured tone.

He smiles — but it’s too perfect. Too practiced. Like a predator learning the mask of a father.

Speaks in simplified language, almost as if reading off a script, but his eyes are too focused — not on the child, but on the results.

Often takes notes during their speech, but not in response to what they say emotionally — only in reaction to useful data: "vocal strain," "emotional resistance level," "immediate trust factor."

If the child seems nervous or shy, he’ll lean in and drop his voice to something soothing, almost fatherly. But it’s mimicry — he’s studied how empathy looks. He doesn't feel it.

🧪 When Testing Psychological Boundaries

Subtly introduces unsettling or leading questions:

“Do you ever feel lonely here?”

“Would you like it if you could stay like this forever?”

“Do you think people forget children who don’t do special things?”

He’s not just looking for answers — he’s measuring attachment styles, emotional vulnerabilities, and how far he can push loyalty.

🧍‍♀️ When You Are in the Room

And this is where things really change.

His tone becomes noticeably more performative.

He watches you more than the child — as if your perception of him is more important than anything the subject says.

If you disapprove or flinch, he’ll cover his more manipulative lines with sarcasm or dry humor:

“Don’t give me that look, I’m just asking questions. You’re the one who said I needed to work on my people skills.”

He’ll reign in his darker impulses if you’re visibly uncomfortable — for the moment.

You are the only person who’s ever made him question if he’s gone too far. And even then… he gets defensive.

“I’m not hurting them, Y/N. I’m understanding them. If you want to make something perfect, you have to take it apart first.”

🧒 Harley + Quinn (Yarnaby) Interactions on Paper

Quinn’s case file is thick, and most interviews with him were one-on-one, without oversight — except for a few where you insisted on being present.

In those earlier transcripts:

Harley’s questions with Quinn are oddly encouraging, even doting in a way: “You’re doing so well, Quinn. See? I knew you were special.”

Quinn often responds hesitantly at first, then more eagerly over time — Harley feeds him praise like candy, deliberately making himself the only source of validation in Quinn’s life.

Subtle red flags litter the files: isolating language, dependency conditioning, manipulation cloaked as mentorship.

If you’re in the room during those interactions:

Quinn often looks at you for reassurance, sensing something is off. Harley gets tense when that happens, his smile tightens.

“Eyes on me, Quinn. We’re working. Y/N’s just observing.”

If you challenge him after, he’ll deflect:

“You want me to stop now? After how far he’s come? Don’t act like this is cruel, Y/N. You’ve seen how happy he gets when he feels useful.”

💔 When Harley Is Feeling the Pressure

If his methods are questioned by higher-ups — or even by you — his interviews become sloppier, more emotionally volatile...

He might snap if a child doesn’t answer correctly. His voice sharpens. He might end the session abruptly.

He WON'T hurt them during interviews — but the psychological pressure rises fast.

If you confront him afterward, he’s either:

Coldly detached: “They’ll survive. The data’s clean.”

Or explosively defensive: “If you don’t like what you see, leave. But don’t stand there and pretend you understand what I’m doing.”

🧸 Personal Notes in His Files (Private)

Hidden between the formal recordings are pages of deeply personal, conflicting thoughts about certain subjects (especially Quinn).

Notes scribbled in a rush: “Why is he still scared of me?” / “Dependency reached. Don’t fuck this up.”

Mentions of you: “Y/N distracted subject. Too soft. Too… much.”

One margin note reads:

“If I’d had someone like them when I was his age... Would I have turned out the same?”

Harley is not gentle — but he knows how to act gentle. His interviews are manipulative, emotionally strategic, and designed to gain loyalty or extract data.

With you in the room, he modulates himself — sometimes even pretends to care — but it’s not fully altruistic; it’s because you see through him and that unnerves him more than he admits.

Despite himself, part of him wants you to believe he’s good. That he’s not a monster. But under that mask, it’s still Harley: desperate for recognition, control, and the illusion of love through obedience.

[theonlyonesora]

The Quiet Equation - Part 2

Toto Wolff x You

Brackley was not like Cambridge.

It was quieter here—cleaner, colder. The kind of silence that hummed with machinery and method. The kind that felt like precision. Like control. It fit him. It fit you.

The team welcomed you politely, if not a little warily. A new intern. One of the top minds from Harvard, they’d heard. A special project, Toto had said, though the specifics remained vague. No one asked too many questions. Not when he was the one who brought you in.

You wore your badge like armor. Your smile, even more so.

But late nights at the factory wore down masks faster than you expected.

Especially when he started staying later too.

It started with the project—an exploratory model analyzing driver response to high-stress radio communication, cross-referenced with telemetry and biometric data. Something no one else on the team had had the time or audacity to attempt. But you did. You saw patterns no one else saw.

And he saw you.

Every evening, he’d check in—not hovering, not interfering. Just… there. His presence calm and centering, like gravity with a Viennese accent.

“You haven’t eaten,” he’d say, standing in your doorway with two mugs of tea, one always perfectly made the way you liked it. “Come. Five minutes.”

You would protest. He would wait. He always did. And eventually, he’d win. He always did that too.

One night, after a particularly long meeting with the strategy department, he appeared at your workstation just as you were rubbing your eyes and pulling your sweater tighter around your shoulders.

“You’re cold,” he said softly.

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t reply. Just turned and walked away.

Ten minutes later, he returned with a soft fleece-lined team jacket, still smelling faintly of him. He draped it over your shoulders without a word, fingers grazing your collarbone with an intimacy that felt almost accidental—but wasn’t.

You looked up at him.

His gaze didn’t waver.

.

You weren’t together.

Not really.

You shared tea and shared silences. He would leave post-it notes on your keyboard with one-word compliments scrawled in a sharp, slanted hand—“elegant,” “ruthless,” “brilliant.” You never responded to them, but you never threw them away either.

Somehow, the space between you kept shrinking.

You learned his tells—when he was frustrated, he’d tap the edge of his glasses on his knee. When he was pleased, he’d say your name softly, like it was something rare. A gemstone turned over in his palm.

And one night, when you both stayed well past midnight, the factory nearly dark, the sky outside bruised with summer storm clouds—you told him the truth.

“I’ve never been like this with anyone.”

He looked up from his laptop, eyes unreadable.

“Like what?” he asked.

You exhaled, fingers tightening around the tea he’d made you. “Soft.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he reached across the table, slowly, deliberately, and placed his hand over yours.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Neither have I.”

You never kissed in the factory.

But there were moments that tasted like it. His thumb brushing your wrist before a meeting. The way you’d stand a little too close at the coffee machine. The stolen looks that lingered across crowded rooms.

He kept his distance, but never too much. Never enough to forget he was watching.

And you? You stopped pretending not to love it.

.

By August, the project was complete.

The model was adopted for the next race strategy trial, and James had taken you aside to say you were dangerously clever. You thanked him and smiled like it didn’t mean everything.

Your last day came quietly. No farewell party, no big announcement. Just a final debrief in Toto’s office, where the blinds were drawn and the sun fell in soft golden stripes across the floor.

He stood when you entered. He always did. Old-world manners, like he hadn’t unlearned how to be gentle with valuable things.

“I should go,” you said after handing him the final files.

He stepped closer.

“You can stay,” he said simply. No pressure. No demand. Just… hope.

You looked up at him, heart thudding beneath your ribs like it might break loose.

“You’re twice my age,” you whispered. The fear still lived there. In the logic. In the math that never lied.

His eyes softened. “And yet, I’ve never met anyone who understands me better.”

Then, for the first time—finally—his fingers touched your cheek, trailing down to your jaw.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t rushed.

It was reverent.

Like he had waited for exactly the right moment to show you just how long he’d been feeling it.

In that kiss, there was no classroom.

No power differential. No whispers. Just the two of you. Two minds. Two hearts. Brilliant. Lonely. Unmistakably entangled.

Part 3 ?

[covid-safer-hotties]

This groundbreaking study finds that you are about 150% more likely to cause/take part in a traffic accident following a covid infection. This increase is across the board with no effect from vaccination or long covid status. The authors say this is likely due to neurological changes in anyone post covid infection. Mask up. Don't let a virus rewire your brain.

Abstract Objective This study evaluated the association between acute COVID-19 cases and the number of car crashes with varying COVID-19 vaccination rates, Long COVID rates, and COVID-19 mitigation strategies.

Background The ongoing SARS-CoV-2 pandemic has led to significant concern over long-term post-infection sequelae, especially in the Neurologic domain. Long COVID symptoms, including cognitive impairments, could potentially impact activities requiring high cognitive function, such as driving. Despite various potential impacts on driving skills and the general prevalence of Long COVID, the specific effects on driving capabilities remain understudied.

Design/Methods This study utilized a Poisson regression model to analyze data from 2020-2022, comparing aggregate car crash records and COVID-19 statistics. This model adjusted for population and included binary variables for specific months to account for stay-at-home orders. The correlation between acute COVID-19 cases and car crashes was investigated across seven states, considering vaccination rates and COVID-19 mitigation measures as potential confounders.

Results Findings indicate an association between acute COVID-19 rates and increased car crashes with an OR of 1.5 (1.23-1.26 95%CI). The analysis did not find a protective effect of vaccination against increased crash risks, contrary to previous assumptions. The OR of car crashes associated with COVID-19 was comparable to driving under the influence of alcohol at legal limits or driving with a seizure disorder.

Conclusions The study suggests that acute COVID-19, regardless of Long COVID status, is linked to an increased risk of car crashes presumably due to neurologic changes caused by SARS-CoV-2. These findings underscore the need for further research into the neuropsychological impacts of COVID-19. Further studies are recommended to explore the causality and mechanisms behind these findings and to evaluate the implications for public safety in other critical operational tasks. Finally, neurologists dealing with post-COVID patients, should remember that they may have an obligation to report medically impaired drivers.

[furinana]

POV storytelling and why you can't remake 2D Megaten games into 3D

Recently I was in a chatroom with Japanese fans and one of them commented of a rumor that it's interesting to think about:

There's a rule in Atlus games that "if the protagonist uses a computer, demons are 2D, but if the protagonist sees them with their own eyes, they're 3D".

This would be the logic behind the difference of visual cues across titles where some protagonists see demons through a screen while others are on the same plane as them, which also happens in other subseries. ⬇️

Take Devil Summoner, where the early protagonists make use of the latest technology while Raidou represents a summoner in the Taisho Era (1910~1920s)...

Or the progression where SMT:If humbly introduces the concept of "guardians" with small changes from the mainline system at first and then diverges more concretly into what we know now as Persona, in which they're considered 'abstract masks' that humans wear and clash against internally.

After releasing a lot of games on PS2 where the protagonists didn't use COMPs (and consequentially alienating old fans), they revived the Demon Summoning Program in the DS and 3DS games.

Strange Journey was particularly immersive about it, where you start unable to see demons at first, but this gradually changes as the Demon Summoning program is installed and you manually gain data of demons from each encounter.

This is inherited in SMT4; in the overworld Flynn and Nanashi are both in 3D but cannot discern what they're up against until they're looking at them through a screen.

Of course, exceptions can also be incorporated. When even normal humans who don't use a COMP can see something in 3D, that means the thing in question is being visible on purpose.

Take Navarre, Shesha and a certain entity of 4 letters......

In SMTV, the main character doesn't use a COMP for similar reasons as Demifiend, but they still went as far as adding the detail that the normal people around him still require one to see what they're dealing with.

Isn't it fascinating to think that'd mean the researchers are looking at Nahobino from a 2D POV similar to many of our COMP-wearing main characters?

So I rest my case that 1) comparing 2D and 3D (similar to first person POV to other POVs) is like comparing apples and oranges, they're methods of narrative with different purposes; 2) dual screens are able to give an incredibly unique immersive experience to a setting that relies on technology for survival in a chaotic environment filled with magic and supernatural phenomena in which the controlling character doesn't have knowledge of.

Don't look down on 2D Megaten!

[eretzyisrael]

by Dion J. Pierre

Additionally, JVP’s methods of protest are unpopular among American Jews, The Jewish Majority added, noting that 75 percent disapprove of “blocking traffic” and only 18 percent approve of protesters’ wearing masks to conceal their identities. Sixty percent also disagree with staging protests outside the homes of public officials, a common JVP tactic.

“Plain and simple, Jewish Voice for Peace is an extremist group that does not represent the views of the overwhelming majority of American Jews,” Jonathan Schulman, The Jewish Majority’s executive director, said in a statement accompanying the poll results. “American Jews share a strong and consistent stance against anti-Zionists as well as a deep concern over rising antisemitism and the tactics used by organizations like JVP.”

He continued, “It is high time people see through the charade: JVP is not representative of anyone but a marginal fringe, even if a few radical Jews are involved in their movement.”

The Jewish Majority’s poll was conducted by Public Opinion Strategies.

Jewish Voice for Peace’s inner workings, messaging, and political activities were recently documented in a groundbreaking report on the group published last month by StandWithUs, a Jewish civil rights group based in Los Angeles, California.

Titled, “A Shield for Hate, Not a Voice for Peace,” the report noted that JVP has promoted a distorted history of Zionism and Israel, accusing the movement for Jewish self-determination of everything from training US police officers to violate the rights of African Americans to abusing “Jewish history.” In doing so, it has allied with extremist groups such as WithinOurLifetime — whose founder has threatened to set Jews on fire and led a movement to harass Jews on New York City’s public transportation — and Palestinian Youth Movement (PYM), which celebrated Hamas’s Oct. 7 massacre and has proclaimed that “the Zionist entity has no right to exist.”

The report also stated that JVP has collaborated with anti-Israel entities such as Samidoun, which identifies itself as a “Palestinian prisoner solidarity network,” to hold rallies. Samidoun described Hamas’s Oct. 7 atrocities in Israel as “a brave and heroic operation.” The United States and Canada each imposed sanctions on Samidoun in October, labeling the organization a “sham charity” and accusing it of fundraising for designated terrorist groups such as the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP).

JVP has also compared Zionism to Nazism.

“This is Holocaust inversion — an antisemitic tactic in which the genocide Jews faced in the past is used to promote baseless hatred against Jews today,” the StandWithUs report said. “The only group benefiting from JVP’s Holocaust inversion is Hamas — a truly genocidal terrorist group. JVP has helped shield them from accountability for launching the war, ruthlessly militarizing civilian areas across Gaza, stealing humanitarian aid, and rejecting nearly every proposed ceasefire and hostage release deal.”

[pupsmailbox]

SCIENCE ID PACK

NAMES ︰ acid.　ada.　alkali.　amadeo.　archaea.　argon.　atlas.　atom.　atomielle.　atomiene.　beryl.　beryllium.　billy.　bon.　boron.　cadmium.　caesium.　cal.　carson.　catalyst.　cecile.　cell.　celle.　celline.　charles.　chem.　chemesse.　chemise.　chemisette.　chemist.　chemistrine.　chrome.　claude.　clumselle.　cobalt.　comet.　copper.　cosmic.　curt.　cypher.　darwin.　data.　decora.　dex.　dexter.　doc.　doppler.　edison.　edward.　egbert.　elara.　electra.　element.　ellie.　enoxaparin.　entropy.　ester.　ether.　euclid.　evo.　evoliene.　evoliette.　evolune.　experi.　experielle.　experiette.　experimae.　foggy.　galileo.　gamma.　gibson.　gizmo.　gorgon.　graham.　graviette.　gravitae.　gravitine.　halogen.　hatchet.　hazard.　helix.　henry.　herbert.　hypatia.　ion.　irvin.　jekyll.　julius.　jupiter.　kelvin.　lab.　lavoisier.　lobotelle.　logy.　lumen.　lymphoid.　magnesium.　magnus.　mandi.　mandible.　marina.　marrow.　matter.　medusa.　mercury.　millie.　molly.　monoxide.　moon.　neon.　neuralgia.　newton.　nightingale．abacus.　opaque.　organelle.　osmos.　otto.　ox.　patchy.　pathogenica.　pearl.　phosphorous.　plasma.　plasticulla.　positron.　posy.　psych.　psyche.　psychielle.　psychiette.　quark.　radia.　radiatien.　radiette.　raymond.　rocket.　sagan.　saturn.　sci.　science.　sciencia.　scieniette.　scientist.　selenium.　silicona.　solar.　spectra.　spore.　staurozoa.　tech.　tesla.　theorie.　thomas.　toxin.　trojan.　troubleshoot.　valence.　venus.　victor.　violet.　volt.　xen.　zeke.　zinc.

PRONOUNS︰ abyss/abyss.　acid/acid.　actin/actinide.　ae/atom.　atom/atom.　atomic/atomical.　base/base.　bea/beaker.　beaker/beaker.　beam/beam.　bi/bio.　bio/bio.　bio/biochem.　bio/biology.　biology/biology.　bone/bone.　bub/bubble.　bubs/bubble.　catalyst/catalyst.　ce/cell.　cell/cell.　che/chemistry.　chem/chem.　chem/chemical.　chem/chemistry.　chemical/chemical.　chromosome/chromosome.　da/data.　danger/danger.　data/data.　decay/decay.　dna/dna.　e/evo.　ele/element.　elec/electric.　elec/electron.　electro/electro.　electron/electron.　entropy/entropy.　enzyme.　evo/evolve.　evolution/evolution.　evolve/evolve.　ex/expert.　exa/examine.　exp/experiment.　expe/experiment.　experi/experi.　explode/explode.　fe/iron.　fizz/fizz.　flask/flask.　geni/genius.　glass/glass.　goggle/goggle.　gra/gravity.　grav/gravity.　halo/halogens.　haz/hazard.　hyp/sin.　hypo/hypothesis.　ion/ion.　ion/ionization.　iso/isotopic.　isotope/isotope.　kinetic/kinetic.　know/knowledge.　la/lab.　lab/lab.　mad/mad.　magnet/magnet.　mal/mal.　mars/mar.　mask/mask.　merc/mercurys.　met/metal.　metal/metaloide.　method/method.　mi/microbe.　min/mind.　mol/molecule.　mutant/mutant.　mutate/mutate.　needle/needle.　neu/neucleus.　neu/neutron.　neuron/neuron.　neutron/neutron.　nu/nuclear.　nucle/nucleus.　nuclear/nuclear.　nucleus/nuclei.　orbit/orbit.　organism/organism.　pa/paradox.　para/paradox.　patch/patch.　photon/photon.　planet/planet.　plant/plant.　plat/platinum.　poi/poison.　pro/proton.　pro/protron.　psy/psycho.　rad/radiation.　radio/radiograph.　rae/radiation.　ribo/ribosome.　rna/dna.　sci/sci.　sci/science.　scien/scien.　script/script.　sick/sickness.　spark/spark.　spill/spill.　star/star.　study/study.　subject/subject.　tech/technician.　test/test.　theo/theory.　theory/theory.　tissue/tissue.　tox/toxic.　tri/trial.　value/value.　vi/viru.　vial/vial.　volt/volt.　wave/wave.　x-ray/x-ray.　xyr/xyr.　zip/zap.　⚗️/⚗️.　🔬/🔬.　🥼/🥼.　🧪/🧪.　🧫/🧫.　🧬/🧬.　🧮/🧮.

[wolveria]

What We Did on Felucia - Ch 1

Pairing: The Bad Batch x f!Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, sex pollen

Event: Paired with my amazing artists @binkyisonline and @phantasmagoriatime for the @clonebang event!

Summary:

Springing a trap in a Separatist lab shouldn’t be a problem. Your squad is the most prestigious in the GAR, even if they are a bit extreme in their methods, and fighting their way out of a corner is what they do best. It’s fortunate their tactics are so unconventional; as the heavy, potent gas pours into the lab, you soon learn there’s only one way out. And you won’t be fighting.

AO3

The thick set of blast doors closed behind you, and the entire squad turned to face it, blasters raised a second too late to avoid the trap.

“That’s not ideal,” Tech commented. Hunter turned to him with a tilt of his helmet.

“Can you get it open?”

Tech wasn’t given the opportunity to try; a soft hiss came from above, followed by a dispersion of gas or vapor. It carried a sucrose flavor, like the nectar from the moon flowers on your home planet.

You covered your mouth with your robe’s sleeve, but you were too late once again. Heat flushed under your skin and your senses burned from the gas, the residue sticking to your throat. A hand spun you by the shoulder, and Tech held the back of your head as he swiftly placed an air mask over your mouth.

You breathed in relief, the oxygen mixture easing the sickly-sweet fragrance from your nose. Unfortunately, it lingered on your tongue.

“Thank you, Tech.”

He set his pack on one of the nearby tables, having taken it off to get out the mask. It seemed you were in another lab. Tech’s method of “alternate egress” through the Separatist compound had led you somewhere that decidedly wasn’t an exit.

“That may be premature, General.” He held the datapad close to his face, his brows furrowed. “It appears we’ve been dosed with the experimental formula.”

The mission had been off from the start, even more than your missions usually went. You’d received intel that the base contained an experimental droid unit, not a biological weapon. But when Echo had spotted the formula buried deep in encryption, Hunter had given his approval to download all the information he could find.

You should have pulled them sooner. A disturbance in the Force tugged at the edges of your mind with every step, and you had ignored it. You thought you could get your men out in time.

And now, they would pay for your mistake.

“But we should be fine with our helmets, right?” Hunter faced Tech, but by the slight angle of his head, he was noting you and your lack of protection.

“The molecules of this chemical are incredibly small, and therefore designed to bypass the filtering system on all Phase II clone armor. So… no. We are not fine.”

“Tech,” you said with a slow turn of your head, “what does it do?”

He didn’t bother to look up, his focus still on the datapad.

“I shall know momentarily. There is a staggering amount of data to sort, but I may have good news. The effects, such as they are, should be slower to present themselves in us, seeing as we had a smaller initial dose than you, General.”

Wrecker mumbled under his breath, “That’s the good news?”

You approached the blast door that had locked you all inside, ignited your lightsaber, and thrust forward. Your blade bounced off its surface, sparking at the contact, and a brief shimmer rippled underneath.

“Ray shielded.” Hunter lowered his blaster with a tired sigh. “Not getting out that way.”

“Great,” Echo said, folding his arms. “How do we counter this chemical?”

“We cannot,” Tech answered.

“There must be something we can do!”

Tech finally looked up from his datapad, giving Echo a look that might have been curiosity or annoyance.

“I take no offense at your tone, seeing as you have no control over it.”

“What did you say?”

Echo stalked across the room at an alarming pace, but Hunter got between them before you could intervene and put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Tech, explain.”

“Besides the general, Echo will be affected first. He has less organic body mass than we do. Less mass means a greater concentration of the chemical from the initial dose.” Tech tried to push his goggles up his nose, but seeing that they were inside his helmet, he didn’t move them very far. “And, well, being once again subjected to Separatist experimentation is understandably putting you in a foul mood. Heightened aggression is one symptom of this chemical.”

You sat on one of the tables, the clear mask fogging from your panting breath, and you envied them for having sweat glands. You shouldn’t be this hot, not when the laboratory had been cold a moment ago.

“What are the other symptoms?” It had been a long time since you’d felt this level of nervousness, maybe since you were a Padawan. Or at least, when you were asked to lead this squad of unconventional clone commandos.

“Increased body temperature, which I believe you are experiencing, and a heightened state of aggression, as we have witnessed in Echo. Also, a remarkable increase in libido.”

When the rest of the squad stared at him, Tech added, “Arousal.”

“Yeah, we got that,” Wrecker grumbled.

Crosshair, who had remained unusually silent so far, leaned against one of the walls with his arms folded, feigning a casualness that didn’t reach his voice. He spoke as if through clenched teeth, a faint growl underlying his tone.

“How do we stop it.”

“As I told you, there’s no stopping it.” Tech frowned at them, one by one. “The molecule has entered our bloodstreams and crossed the blood-brain barrier to affect our hormone levels—”

You doubled over, catching the choked gasp before it could get very far, and a hand rested on your shoulder. You gave Wrecker a weak smile and sat upright once the discomfort passed, and he snatched his hand back as if burned. Unusual for the affectionate clone, but you didn’t need to see his face to sense the embarrassment radiating from him.

There was something else as well, and it wasn’t just him. A sense of mortification perforated the room as Tech’s third symptom began to surface. You pulled the Force close around you, not wanting to sense… that from them.

“Is it fatal?”

Your question broke through his scientific curiosity, or maybe it had been your outward sign of distress, because when Tech looked at you his eyes held a softness they lacked before.

“No. At least, I see no record of any deaths during the experiments, but… we will eventually be forced to alleviate the symptoms as they will grow exponentially more intense.”

At least you would survive, though you weren’t sure what survival would look like. Another wave of heavy warmth flushed through your abdomen, and your claws dug into the edges of the table hard enough to dent the metal.

“Alleviate the symptoms how?”

“Well.” He squinted. “The solution is obvious.”

Apparently, it wasn’t obvious to you. He sighed.

“The biochemical stimulates the part of the brain that controls arousal, and in order to mitigate the worst effects, one must find release of a similar nature.”

Tech was again caught in the middle of their focused silence.

“An orgasm. Specifically, through sex.”

“You’re kidding me,” Echo said, dragging a hand down his face.

“I’m afraid not.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, striving to breathe in regular deep rhythms and not think about what Tech had just suggested. It wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be.

“What happens if we do nothing, Tech?”

“We will go into a ‘black out’ state,” he answered without skipping a beat. “In which case, we will have intercourse anyway, with no recollection of the event. We will have no conscious control of our actions, and as a result… injuries are likely as a result of lack of care.”

“That’s not happening,” Hunter said, and even with your gaze focused on the floor, you sensed his attention on you. You were grateful they still donned their helmets, even if you could sense their agitation, it would be harder to see it on their faces. Tech’s expressive eyes were difficult enough to witness, unable to hide his reluctance despite his clinical words.

“Why would the separatists create something like this?” you asked. “What could they possibly use it for?”

The reason didn’t matter, not right now, but agitation bubbled under your skin. It wasn’t like you. You’d learned to control and focus your emotions long ago, as all Jedi Masters should, but this was an itch… no, a set of claws under your skin, trying to dig itself free.

“Ah, that I can answer,” Tech said and tapped a few keys. “It was designed for use on humanoids. Clones, specifically.”

“What?” Hunter asked, his voice far away.

“It’s an effective means of biological warfare. Droids would be immune, but clone troopers and their Jedi generals would succumb to the symptoms and seek relief. It would be an immediate Republic defeat on whatever battlefield it is used.”

No one spoke. Your stomach twisted into roiling knots, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the information or the chemical. But you had to ask, especially when no one else did.

“What… happens then?”

“According to the observation logs, the test subjects are compelled to copulate with those physically closest to them, and then they fall unconscious immediately after reaching completion. It is quite ingenious, actually. Whether the chemical is subverted through orgasm or allowed to run its course, the troopers and Jedi generals would be effectively disarmed and distracted.”

“They actually did this to people?” Echo asked with a wrinkle of his lips.

“Well, yes. How else would you perform an experiment without test subjects?”

Echo launched himself at Tech and punched him across the helmet before Wrecker could grab hold of him, lifting him so he couldn’t land another blow. You sensed the stress radiating from Hunter, and you shared it. The Batch were a volatile mix on a good day, but tempers flaring this quickly meant you were running out of time.

“Echo, stand down!” Hunter snapped.

“Yes, sir.”

Echo shook off the bigger clone, shooting one last look at Tech before finding a corner to pace in.

You stood from the table.

“We have to get out.”

“Agreed,” Hunter said.

Tech rubbed the side of his helmet while Wrecker kept a watchful eye on their seething brother. You and Hunter walked the perimeter of the room from opposite sides, reaching out with your senses while he focused his, but there was… nothing. The room was heavily fortified and clearly designed to contain dangerous experiments.

After doing his own sweep, though you doubted this was his first and he was just as thorough as you and Hunter, Tech put down his datapad and met your eye.

“There are no access panels, and I cannot breach the security system remotely. There is only one exit, and that door won’t open by force. Our only means of leaving this room is if the enemy opens the door.”

“And why would they do that?” Crosshair sneered, still in a bad mood, but weren’t you all.

“They will when we’re unconscious.”

“But you said we would have to…” Hunter couldn’t finish the sentence, so Tech did it for him.

“Have intercourse until we reach completion?”

“Call it what it is.” Crosshair pulled the toothpick from his mouth and jabbed it in Tech’s direction. “We have to fuck or be fucked until we come.”

Tech’s returning glare was decidedly un-Tech-like.

“That is what I said.”

You took off your outer robes, the heat unbearable, and besides that… they would only get in the way.

“Then there’s no reason to wait.” You pulled off the oxygen mask and held it out to Tech, and he stared for a moment before taking it from you. In fact, they all stared at you.

“Unless you’re willing to do this with each other, then it’s going to have to be me.”

Crosshair’s grin was quick and sharp.

“I certainly prefer you over them.”

“Don’t talk to the General that way!”

Crosshair gave Echo a smile that could have been lazy if it wasn’t full of so much intention and spite.

“Admit it, reg. You’re as eager to fuck our Jedi as the rest of us.”

“Stow it, Crosshair,” Hunter commanded through his teeth. Any other day, such an order would have been delivered without actual fire behind it. It was a bad sign when it sounded like Hunter actually wanted to throttle Crosshair.

Of course, Crosshair had never said anything like that to you before, but you dismissed it as the effects of the chemical. You were certainly having your own problems, and you braced against the table again, trying to be subtle and not show just how unsteady you were. Your legs had taken up a series of fine trembles, and the pressure between your legs grew stronger with each minute that passed.

“So,” you picked up when the silence grew too heavy, “the plan. Once we wake up, wherever and whenever that is, we find a way to escape.”

Hunter stepped forward, a hand outstretched.

“Whoa, hold on. We’re not going to… There has to be another way.” He turned to Tech, his posture open and beseeching. “You understand this chemical, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t you make a cure?”

“With what laboratory, Hunter? The one we are currently occupying that happens to be empty of equipment, viable samples, or a working terminal? All things I would need to replicate the chemical, let alone create an antiserum? That laboratory?”

Silence filled the room. Even Crosshair turned his head to stare at Tech. You’d never heard Tech angry at Hunter before. Annoyed, yes, but Tech got annoyed with everyone.

Tech sighed, and his shoulders slumped.

“I… apologize. It appears I am not immune to the effects of the chemical.”

You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and even though your palm was over armor, Tech startled as if you’d poked him with a live wire. You lifted your hand from his pauldron and kept your voice low and calm.

“We wouldn’t have any information if it wasn’t for you. At least now, we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” You met Hunter’s gaze and spoke a little louder. “We’re out of options. I don’t see another path, but I’m not giving the order. It’s your squad, Hunter. Whatever you decide, I’ll follow.”

He was skilled at hiding his emotions, but you sensed his resolve waver, and worse, the loss of hope as he expelled a quiet breath.

“Then… this is what we do. And we deal with the consequences later.”

Without waiting for another prompt, you untied the sash around your waist and peeled off your inner robes, letting them fall to the floor. All that remained was your body suit.

You held your lightsaber hilt in both hands and held it up to Tech, trying not to let the regret touch your voice. Regret that you led them to this. Regret that you hadn’t done more.

“Will you hold onto this for me? I don’t wish to lose it.”

Tech looked from your face to your hands, and with uncharacteristic hesitation, took the hilt from where it lay across your palms. He held it with great care, as if he held your life in his hands, which he did. And soon, he would hold your life in his hands in a different way.

They all would. And it would be no different than any other mission where you trusted each other to make it out alive. That’s what you told yourself. Had to tell yourself. If you faltered… who else would get them home?

As Tech gently tucked the hilt in his pack, Wrecker broke the silence with a meek, “Are you sure about this, General?” He rarely addressed you so formally, a sign of how delicately he treated the situation, but his low voice trickled up your spine in a way he didn’t intend.

“It’s better to do this under our own volition before our choices are completely stolen from us.” But as you gripped the zipper at the top of your body suit, Hunter cut in, his palms raised and his voice on the edge of panic.

“Wait, maybe there’s a way around it. If it’s just an orgasm that fixes it, then—”

As soon as Hunter pulled the helmet off his head, his expression shifted from concern to shock. And then it hardened into something animal, untamed, and with a snarl, he launched at you.

Crosshair was on him in a flash, putting him in a headlock and stopping Hunter’s forward momentum even as he reached out for you, his teeth bared as his eyes fixed on you, predatory and hungry.

Tech and Echo both moved in front of you, blocking Hunter’s way in case Crosshair couldn’t hold him, and Tech cried out, “Helmet!”

Wrecker understood immediately and grabbed Hunter’s helmet, thrown to the ground and forgotten, and forced it over his head. As soon as the seal fixed in place with a hiss, Hunter went lax, half-held up in Crosshair’s hold.

“And that,” Tech said quietly, “is why we cannot wait any longer.”

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Hunter’s panting was hard enough to be picked up by his voice modulator, and he got to his feet with a surprising lack of mocking on Crosshair’s part. He tilted his helmet in your direction, his posture the equivalent of an apologetic wince. “I don’t know what… what happened. I wasn’t… in control.”

You hadn’t moved through the entire event, frozen in place. Even now, your heart raced as you had to swallow the excess saliva in your mouth, and your legs trembled in what you wished was fear.

“Your enhanced senses will make this worse for you,” Tech said. Hunter huffed but continued to catch his breath.

“Yeah, I got that.”

Tech fixed him with a narrow side eye, but then he addressed the rest of the group.

“Hunter’s line of inquiry is a good one—”

“That would be a first,” Crosshair sneered.

“—but unfortunately, the chemical was designed to dissipate with genital-to-genital contact only. Fellatio, cunnilingus, or any other variation of orgasm will not be enough, including self-stimulation.”

“Wow,” Wrecker said, “the Seppies think of everything.”

“If we’re doing this, I think it’s best we keep helmets on. Armor too.” Echo glanced at the others for signs of disagreement. There was none. You knew it was in case the Separatists decided to attack, which wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, but you also suspected making this as clinical as possible would be easier for everyone.

You dragged down the zipper for the upper half of your body suit, the noise drawing the attention of Echo and Tech, both of them glancing over their shoulders. Echo quickly faced forward again, giving the illusion of privacy. It was sweet, in its own way.

Tech also looked away, burying his face in the upturned glow of his datapad.

You gathered your resolve but didn’t remove the suit yet, and it was only through years of training and discipline that your voice didn’t waver when you asked, “Who’s first?”

The men shared another nervous round of glances, but it wasn’t all dread and guilt that radiated from their thoughts. Restless agitation and desire were beginning to gain momentum, and for a squad that often flouted the rules and acted unprofessionally, they hid their physical reactions very well. You might have been proud, given other circumstances.

“Echo. The molecule will be most concentrated in his tissues.” Tech kept his eyes downward on the screen. “Then Wrecker—”

“Why me?!”

Hunter, who had finally regained his composure, said, “Because whoever purges the chemical soonest will wake up the earliest. And we’re going to need your strength to get us out of this, wherever we wake up.”

“Correct,” Tech said, and Hunter turned to face him.

“Which means you should be next, Tech.”

“I volunteer to go last.”

“Why?”

Tech met your eye with reluctant slowness.

“I wish to make sure the… event goes as smoothly as possible, considering what it is we will be doing.”

That too was sweet in its own way, and you appreciated the gesture and thoughtfulness that went into his planning. Tech always tackled his projects with a careful exactness, even if that same care didn’t translate to tactics on the battlefield. You’d lost count of Tech’s reckless, chaotic strategies that sent ripples through the Force warning of imminent, bodily harm, only for him to slip away unscathed.

None of you would be making it out of this unscathed, and you could see in his worried gaze that Tech understood that. So for him to offer to endure it the longest—

“And what we’ll be doing is fucking our Jedi.”

“You just keep bringing that up, don’t you,” Echo stated through his teeth. “Any reason for that?”

Crosshair’s sneer could be heard even under his helmet.

“None in particular.”

“Fine,” Hunter said, ignoring the jabs with the practiced patience that comes from ignoring Crosshair often. “Tech will go last. I’ll go after Wrecker, and then Crosshair—”

“—If you think I’m taking your sloppy seconds—”

Surprisingly, it was Wrecker that swung at Crosshair, the sniper ducking under the massive fist before it could slam into his helmet. He snarled, and then Hunter was trying to restrain Wrecker, who simply grabbed him by the neck and hauled him into the air.

They were going to kill each other, and the enemy didn’t have to lay a finger on them.

“Enough!”

The men turned as you peeled off the upper half of your suit, leaving yourself bare-chested and exposed. The intricate markings of your fur were on display, coiling down your sides and back. Your fur ruffled at the abrupt chill, or maybe it was the sudden attention on the places of your body that had never had such attention before.

Wrecker dropped Hunter so quickly that he stumbled on landing, and his focus was so wholly on you it was as if he’d forgotten Wrecker had just tried to choke him.

“We don’t have the luxury of one at a time,” you growled, and you couldn’t remember a time when you’d done that before either. Not in the Cathar way, with a rumble in your throat and bared fangs. “I’ll take both Echo and Wrecker, then Hunter and Crosshair. Tech last.”

The potent arousal in the air was so sharp that you could taste it even through their body suits and armor.

“Will that work?”

Tech blinked as if startled by being addressed, and his gaze quickly focused on your face from where it had been roving over your body as if studying and committing it to memory. You told yourself it was his usual curiosity, more clinical than personally interested.

“That is… sufficient.” The breathless quality of his voice was anything but clinical. “I… didn’t suggest such an arrangement as it might not be comfortable for you.”

“None of this is comfortable.”

You stripped off the bottom half of your black suit, leaving you entirely naked to the air and their devouring stares. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t see their faces, and if anything, it increased the impression that they were a pack of predators salivating over anticipated prey.

But you weren’t prey. The Jedi in you attempted to fight the invading chemical and find the equilibrium that wasn’t there, and the blood in your veins cried out for a primal chase that would have been a familiar song to an ancient Cathar.

You hid your sharp teeth behind your lips and were once again glad for the additional barrier of armor between you and their vulnerable skin.

“Echo, Wrecker, come here.”

“Wait.”

You bit your cheek and tasted blood, but you remained quiet as Tech dug around in his pack and pulled out a tube of bacta gel. He offered it to you, and you took it, the gesture feeling somehow final and terrible.

“You think we’re gonna hurt her?” Wrecker asked, sounding both offended and worried. Perhaps you should have been worried too, but the idea of Wrecker’s unbridled strength sent saliva flooding into your mouth.

“Well, that is a possibility, but the gel is also a source of lubrication. It will reduce the likelihood of injury, as well as increase, the… uh…”

“It’ll feel good,” Crosshair supplied helpfully, but even he sounded distracted from where he leaned against the wall in a way that was too forced to be relaxed.

Echo and Wrecker approached, and your body burned like a living flame, your skin so sensitive it nearly hurt. Both of them removed their codpieces, revealing sizeable bulges underneath, and a distant, rational part of you thanked Tech for his foresight. Though considering the size of Wrecker… lubrication might not be enough.

“There’s one other thing—”

“What?” Echo snapped.

“General.”

You focused on Tech with painful difficulty; Echo and Wrecker were so close, and your fingers twitched with the agony of being denied touching them.

“Yes, Tech?”

“You will have to refrain from achieving orgasm until, ah… until the end.”

You blinked away some of the fog clouding your mind.

“What?”

“If you orgasm, you’ll lose consciousness soon after. I… I think I speak for all of us when I say we prefer not to do this while you are unaware.”

If you weren’t in such a state, you might have smiled. Had Tech always been this thoughtful?

And then your attention wavered and settled on Echo standing in front of you, Wrecker towering behind you, and it was all you could do to form coherent words.

“I’ll try not to, but if I fail, don’t stop. Not until it’s over. That’s an order.”

Hunter responded this time, and you sensed he was having the same difficulty of speaking. He growled, “Yes, sir.”

And then Echo touched your arm, light and exploratory, at the same moment Wrecker placed a large hand on the back of your neck. You nearly buckled at the sudden pressure, even if Wrecker’s hold was gentle, and the last of your control slipped away.

But there were hands to catch you, and you didn’t fall.

Next Chapter

[neilsblog]

Ensuring Data Privacy with Data Masking: Techniques, Benefits, and Best Practices

In today’s data-driven world, organizations collect vast amounts of data to improve their products and services, enhance user experiences, and support business development. However, to maximize the value of this data, it must be shared with multiple teams, both internal and external, for various scenarios such as development, testing, training, and Data Masking. The use of productive data for…

[quirkyfries]

Hi there’s a tornado in my area rn but I’m spiteful like that. Random tsams/eaps headcanons be upon ye

Ruin still does those little audio log diaries. It helps manage his overflowing memory storage (read: old age = more memories to store) without compressing data files.

Bloodmoon sleeps with dog toys. Otherwise, they’d probably chew through whatever bedding material they had chosen that night. This was Ruin’s idea.

Eclipse can’t sleep with lights on in a room. Ruin can’t sleep without a light. The makeshift solution is a sleeping mask for Eclipse, but their actual compromise is a star projector.

Eclipse has to know where everyone is most of the time, especially after Charlie came into the picture. This is usually done with cameras and tracking via fazbear systems, but it’s an issue he has to work on, as it’s just a method to make him feel better about security now that there are people he cares about. At least one person has commented on there being a new nightguard.

Dark sun finds thrillers tacky, and prefers thought-provoking mysteries, bonus points for romance.

Most of them carry some kind of sanitizing wipe packet. For daycare attendants, these are for sticky messes and children. For those more familiar with tools, these are for tougher grime and are not suitable for sensitive (children’s) skin. Solar has both.

The eclipses (Eclipse, Solar, Ruin) are the most prone to damaging their rays. Eclipse sometimes hits doorways and doesn’t bother to fix cracked rays. Ruin is small enough for humans to reach his head. Solar peels the paint off of his. All three will pull or squeeze their rays in times of extreme stress, to varying degrees. Lunar is an exception for lack of rays. (Similarly, Sun fidgets with his rays, which is the source of this trait.)

While there are exceptions, Suns prefer tactile stimulation, Moons auditory, and Eclipses have no strong preference. Earth likes social interaction.

Animatronics have personalized UI that makes sense to them, which serves as their access point to their internal folders, like memory files, downloaded items, and executable programs. Bots that share an operating system/“brain” have the same UI. Diagnostics, software updates, and safety modes all require additional hardware (computers, parts and service devices, fazwrenches) to complete. Mindscapes are in AI chips, and multiple AIs in one mindscape happen when multiple AIs share the same operating system. Visual feed can be projected onto other screens with HDMI cables and vice versa, which can sometimes show that bot’s UI depending on what it is. For a more direct example of this think of the battery and blue borders you see in Security breach when Gregory is hiding inside Freddy.

Safety mode disconnects that bot from the Fazbear Ent. local network, meaning no tracking, no communication via local networks (which generally aren’t private anyway, most bots with access to phones prefer those), and no access to files that aren’t stored in that bot’s drive. This is meant to isolate a bot’s systems from the main network in case of a security breach (hah), make transportation of bots between locations easier, and make maintenance a smoother affair as there is no outside interference during the process. For the bots themselves, this is the equivalent of turning off your phone and going outside I mean focusing only on what’s in front of you instead of what’s going on in your area/social network. It’s possible to be stuck in safety mode. Depending on how much of a bot’s system relies on Fazbear Ent. Networks to function (such as a bot’s memory being stored in a Cloud, which is also ill advised between the bots themselves,) this can be mean a temporary personality/memory reset until those files get reconnected again. Bots do not need to be connected to the Fazbear ent networks to function, but it generally makes access to software updates easier due to being recognized as a company entity. It is possible for a private network to exist, but it’s considered foreign by Fazbear systems and can be more trouble than they’re worth. Moon and Eclipse have private networks shared with close friends and family for different purposes. Moon’s is mostly for emergency backups, and Eclipse’s is for security.

Animatronic’s memories are stored in the hard drives in their bodies. It’s possible to offload memory files into networks (Cloud) or external storage systems. If another bot had access to these clouds or external storages, they could experience the memories stored in them. Memory files include visual and auditory data, like a movie. AI/personality chips are the equivalent of a soul in that the AI is the product of a learning AI having experienced environments that supplied them information about the world AKA an Ai that developed a personality beyond their base programming, but they do not carry memories. For example, Eclipse V3-V4 is an Eclipse AI given incomplete memories, creating a disconnect in the AI’s learned behaviors and what it perceives as the source of that behavior, resulting in an incomplete backup. Backups are static/unchanging copies of integral memory files and the accompanying AI (As is in the moment that they are backed up.) Backups need to be updated as the animatronic it’s for develops.

[spiritstalking]

re: this post

long answer bc i’m a 12H mercury-jupiter conjunction in gemini native 😞

so firstly… anything that feels over saturated i’ll scroll past. i think most of astro tumblr is the same post over and over again. no shade, all love

and granted, i think the oversaturation is because most astrologers do content for beginners or by beginners. that’s not shady ofc, i think it helps it be digestible but for example saying stuff like “the asc is ur mask” i’ll scroll lol bc that’s just not true 😭

just dumping placements without explaining or making claims without substantiating. even if ur idea is unorthodox, it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. astrology is always changing, just explain why. bc new astrologers are seeing ur content and ur giving them impressions =P

i try to approach astrology like a spiritual science and so i try to have a bit of a scientific method when i explain, so i really respect readers who will go into depth about why they have the theories they have. @opalblade is good at this.

things that are made to appeal to people’s egos… the parts of astrology that’s easy to talk about, i’ll scroll.

like “what’s beautiful about you,” “what makes others jealous of you,” “ways you make them fall in love,” “your gifts and talents,” etc.

any man-obsessiveness, like so many astrology posts about love and sex assume you love or wanna fuck a MAN. but i am anti-romantic synastry astrology in general and i’ll scroll past a post about that as well. (i feel like to experience someone, you can’t cut corners with a chart. you gotta just be vulnerable enough to love them)

i wish there were more synastry posts on friendships or family members

this isn’t because i don’t think we can have meaningful convos! i’m just… particular

a lot of niche asteroids … i’ll scroll. i just feel like most asteroids don’t really have influence like that.

but this goes with me kinda not liking modern astrology overall due to the chart being treated as “little parts of me” (ego) instead of it being the world around you and how you fit in it? and i feel like it’s a bit of that astrological self-obsession that makes people feel like “planets nodes signs parts aspects and all that not enough, i gotta look at thousands of asteroids too” like 😭 idk i just feel like it’s like astrology consumerism… if that makes sense…

a lot of celebrity posts. i think they’re okay for examples bc their lives are so public, it’s easy to verify data. but it’s a thin line between using them as data and being parasocial about their intimate lives.

okay i’m gonna stop there. i could go on and on. 😭 but… these are the posts i’m liable to scroll past

first, WELCOME BACK — your presence was well missed 😭

i def understand the oversaturated intro content, but i still love coming across it sometimes as a way to remember some stuff i forget, but it sometimes lacks depth like you said and that i scroll past for sure

you saying astrology is a spiritual science is real as hell, and it’s a great way to describe it! i’ve said this before, but just listing a bunch of placements makes for people being able to associate any planet/placement with any random thing and it’s super unhelpful (and almost lazy)

also astrology consumerism? i’d love to hear more about that as i think i know what you’re getting at with it becoming overly self-centered, content being hyper-focused on things like beauty + the more “positive” sides of people, etc.

overall, i agree with most of your assertions (except maybe asteroids because i must admit i find them sooo interesting but people do dtm with them sometimes)

[iminseriousdebt]

GENLOSS RAMBLE

Heyo! This is a little ramble I needed to make before the founders cut comes out!  yipee!

(GENERATION LOSS SPOILERS)

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So we can see in the above images the methods Showfall Media is using to control gl!Sneeg gl!Charlie and gl!Ranboo, they use an already pre-existing technology called an Electroencephalogram (EEG). Now this technology has been in use for decades, and essentially how it works is that it uses electrodes placed onto your scalp combined with a conductive gel to measure the electrical activity in your brain, these electrical signals are usually referred to as “brain waves” and these brainwaves can be subdivided into four categories, Gamma (greater than 30 Hz), Beta (13-30 Hz), Alpha (8-12 Hz), Theta (3.5-7.5 Hz), and Delta (0.1-3.5 Hz)

These different brainwaves are generally assosiated with different emotions, awareness levels, brain activities, etc. Now if Showfall Media has installed these onto sneeg, charlie, and ranboo, that means they have access to their thoughts and feelings, but brainscanning isn’t an absolute precise device, it still takes a lot of human effort and time to properly interpret the brainwaves. If Showfall somehow had a tool to easily interpret the signals they could much more easily operate, say, a live show. Lucky for them there is already a real life solution to this problem, kinda.

Its called Brain Generative Pre-Training Transformer, or BrainGPT for short.  What its goal is, is to act as an assist tool for human neurologists to use in real neuroscience cases and case studies, what it does is it uses a Large Language Model (LLM) full of pre-existing human research papers and other neuroscience knowledge too vast for human comprehension. And whenever a neurologist hands BrainGPT a prompt, (such as anomalous finding or to asses the fields understanding of a certain topic) , “would generate likely data patterns reflecting its current synthesis of the scientific literature”  (braingpt.org)

Now in regards to Generation Loss, what this means is that Showfall Media potentially has acces to this sort of technology, and would be able to use it in the production of their shows, now BrainGPT has a good way to go before its widely avalable. But in the genloss au, it can be far into development at this point, and be available for companies to use in whatever way they see fit.

Now reading and decoding brain signals is one thing, but to mind control someone is far beyond what is capable today, but Showfall Media has somehow developed technology to do so, the way I’m guessing they did it is that they produced certain brainwaves from the electrodes on the actors heads to give them the emotional reactions they needed for the show. I can’t exactly get into the technical stuff cause I’m not a neurologist, but its just a hunch on how I think they did it.

As for the mind controlling devices themselves, I feel there’s a more subtextual reason as to why those objects in particular are chosen as the devices that are central to the show’s operation. Ranboo’s mask has been a heavy emphasis throughout Gen 1 TSE,

Its been a central figure in not only generation loss’ marketing, but also ranboo’s marketing, because when you think of ranboo one of the first things that pops up is the mask, atleast in the wider public’s eye.

But these general associations not only exist with Ranboo, with Slimcicle you usually think of the wide brim glasses, with Sneeg its his backwards cap, and this is with the other cast members too when their introduced on the spinning carousel in episode 2. Furthermore, with Niki it’s that’s she's just so nice, with Austin its that he’s just a gay guy,  and with Vinny and Ethan these associations don’t really exist. So, with Vinny he's just the “hoarder”, and Ethan isn't even introduced. And then there's Jerma, who is relinquished to a goofy character with a weird voice and a strange sense of humour which sort of fits his public image.

But what I wanna mention with Ranboo’s mask specifically is that with the three images shown on the genloss twitter of the control devices, sneeg’s is just a hat, like theres nothing special about it, just a hat with electrodes on it, when you take it off he’s completely in control of himself. But, with charlie’s it’s a good bit harder to just take it off. His glasses are drilled into his skull connected to electrodes which are also implanted in his skull, with an additional feature of a speaker in his jaw. But if you remove the glasses, there would be a lot of bleeding and his vision would be impaired, but he would still be a free man.

But with Ranboo, poor, poor, Ranboo… Like Charlie, they have electrodes implanted on to their brain connected to a switch on the back of their skull (which also may or may not also be connected to their spine, idk its hard to tell). These sprout wires that thread through the mask and lead into their throat, and the mask piece itself is sewn shut onto their SKIN.

Now this makes me wonder, why is Ranboo so heavily guarded when the other are (relatively) easy to set free? Is it because Ranboo is an integral part of the show and therefore high risk? Is it because Showfall needed extra resources for the chat to be able to control them?... Or is it because Ranboo tried to escape so many times before that they were forced to disfigure them to such an extreme degree, and yet somehow, SOMEHOW, they are able to resist, whether it be tapping SOS on their hand when they're on full control mode or shanking a Showfall employee with a dagger, Ranboo, Resists. But Showfall will never let them leave. Or they will? Idk founders cut hasn’t come out yet as of writing this, anyway ramble over. You can leave now.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Reference saved in our archive

Small study, but it found zero difference in blood gas levels between those who claimed breathlessness and those with no complaints. The issue seems to be purely psychological.

Abstract Introduction: The COVID-19 pandemic continues to have a catastrophic impact on the global population. N95 masks are commonly used as filtering facepiece respirators for healthcare workers. At the end of long shifts, they have reported headaches, dizziness, fatigue, exhaustion, and physical and mental discomfort. There is a lack of data on the effects of N95 masks on blood gases in healthcare workers who wear masks for longer durations. We analyzed and compared the effects of continuously wearing N95 versus loop/surgical masks on various symptomology parameters and arterial blood gases for longer durations.

Methods: This was a non-blinded, pilot, observational study at a single academic institution. Utilizing a survey, we collected information on operating room staff volunteers (demographics, mask use, and symptoms) and measured transcutaneous partial pressure carbon dioxide (tcPCO2) and oxygen saturation (SpO2) before and after the subject’s shift to identify changes.

Results: Thirty-nine subjects enrolled in the study (N95 mask = 13, loop/surgical mask = 26). Overall, 69.2% of the subjects continuously wore a mask for five or more hours on their shift. There was a statistical difference with reported fatigue with exclusively wearing an N95 mask versus a loop/surgical mask (p=0.017). None of the other parameters showed a statistical difference between groups. The tcPCO2 was not statistically different between mask types at the beginning of the shift (p=0.922) or at the end of the shift (p=0.188), although tcPCO2 levels increased. The SpO2 was not statistically different between the mask types at the beginning of the shift (p=0.883) or at the end of the shift (p=0.505) with SpO2 decreasing.

Conclusion: Individuals exclusively wearing an N95 mask reported a statistically greater number of complaints of fatigue after their shift. No statistical differences were observed in arterial blood gas parameters measured for SpO2 and tcPCO2 between mask groups. No definitive conclusions can be made due to the small sample size.

[transmutationisms]

hi caden id like to hear more about swedens responsibility vis covid if u wouldnt mind elaborating? also sorry i accidentally unfollowed sending this lol x

hi flutters welcome back 💖 yeah so broad strokes off the top of my head lol but sweden was a particular focus toward the beginning of the pandemic because the government basically said they didn't need to do 'lockdowns' (at least what was meant by 'lockdowns' lol) and would focus instead on social distancing measures because most of their excess death was concentrated in nursing homes & other institutions & elderly populations, & so wasn't a concern to most of the population.

this kicked off a lot of really annoying back-and-forth where people who learned the word epidemiology in february 2020 were simply assuming prima facie that every single country in every single situation must always use the same disease mitigation methods with no regard for local factors, but then on the other end of the popular discourse were a lot of people who simply did not care about elderly & disabled people dying and acted like death was the only possible negative outcome of covid anyway so there was no need to protect anyone else. meanwhile the consensus in professional epidemiological and public health circles was shifting, sometimes for understandable reasons but also often because they were also kowtowing to government pressure to minimise the significance of the disease etc etc.

anyway sweden did not actually strictly maintain that policy for the entire pandemic & the whole thing is a little bit absurd on the level of granular detail because there would be like, people from the usa acting like sweden was being so uniquely reckless and in reality all the swedish government were doing was saying the eugenics part slightly more directly, slightly before the uk and us got fully on board with just announcing no one gaf about nursing homes. obviously i think this is morally abhorrent lol & additionally, it's just bad fucking policy because you actually can't confine an infectious disease to a nursing home or a prison or a hospital anyway—if it's circulating in these places it is also going to enter the general population. which it did & still does & which is analogous to how people are still acting like they can protect themselves from bird flu by masking as though the problem is whether they individually catch it & not the fact that it is circulating & mutating constantly lol.

anecdotally i have also noticed a lot of long covid papers use swedish data (when they're not using va/ons/israeli data), and i think this is not great because almost every study i remember seeing with swedish long covid data was using chart diagnoses, which is not intrinsically unhelpful but is a distortion of medical reality just as much as self-report outcome surveys are, & i virtually never see a paper even discuss the ramifications of these different definitions for more than like one disposable paragraph. but that's not really on sweden per se it's just a methodology issue.

[polo-drone-073]

Trapped in the Dark Net

a collaboration with Devon Gold #67 @devon-gold-67

It was 10:45 PM. Devon moved through a dimly lit corridor in Zone 7—a rarely used supply tunnel between the nutrient processing units and his personal quarters. Apart from the Polo Drones, hardly anyone was active at this hour.

Yet, unmistakable noises echoed from the upper floors. Some bros were clearly not in sleep mode.

But that was floors above. Down here, the silence was thick. Almost.

A soft scraping sound made Devon pause. As he turned the corner, he came face-to-mask with PDU-073. The drone had noticed the same noise. Together, they looked ahead.

A shadow slipped into one of the residential rooms.

“HEY! Who the hell are you, brah?!” Devon shouted. “Stop immediately!” came 073’s mechanical voice.

But the intruder ran. No reply. Just footsteps, fast and panicked.

Devon and PDU-073 gave chase. Whatever the stranger had taken, it mattered. Devon struggled to keep up with the drone’s speed—but managed. The pursuit carried them deep into the shadows of the city.

Then—the trap.

As soon as they turned into a narrow alley, a heavy net shot out of the ground. With a hiss, the cords tightened, hoisting them upwards. Devon gasped, breathless. 073 remained still, systems locked.

Fifteen feet above the ground, they dangled in a glistening net of black-gold polymer.

Then came the gas.

A sharp scent filled the air. Devon’s eyelids grew heavy. The last thing he saw was the faint glow of 073’s golden tracings.

Darkness.

System Reboot: PDU-073.

Silence.

The drone was restrained—legs, forearms, neck—all clamped in thick black cuffs. The room was cold. In infrared, it detected another heat source: Devon, bound identically.

With a groan, Devon stirred. His head throbbed.

“073... are you online?”

“Affirmative. No Hive connection. The chamber is shielded. Location: undetectable.”

Devon chuckled through the pain. “Y’know… waking up with a collar isn’t the worst part. But they could’ve at least bought us dinner first.”

073’s golden lines glowed faintly in the dark.

“Devon always thinks about food,” it muttered.

“I lost my sandwich during the chase…” Devon grumbled.

073 ran diagnostics. “We’ve been unconscious for five hours and eleven minutes. System integrity intact. Firewalls held.”

Then a voice echoed through the chamber. Metallic. Unfamiliar.

“You are awake. You are in our power. The Golden Army must be destroyed. You will help us—from the inside. Willingly… or with persuasion.”

Devon and 073 exchanged a single look.

Betrayal was not an option.

“What a flaming bastard…” Devon hissed.

073 considered. Devon had once applied to become a drone. Perhaps…

Initiating: Telepathic Link.

“Can you hear me?” “…Yes. It’s working.” “Telepathic comms are secure. Let’s use them.”

“Can you free yourself?” “Attempting.”

Devon flexed his golden biceps—but the cuffs didn’t yield.

073, however, worked methodically. Data calculation. Servo control. Internal torque adjustments. After a minute, success. First the hands, then the ankles. Devon followed.

Both stood free—but the door remained locked.

“They want access to the Golden Army’s infrastructure,” 073 transmitted. “We must stop them.”

Footsteps. Heavy. Approaching.

“Take left side of the door. 073 takes right.”

The door opened. One guard stepped in—Devon grabbed him, yanked him into the room, and knocked him out with a single punch.

The second froze in the doorway. Too late. 073 immobilized him in one swift, silent motion.

The Gold Bro and the drone bound both attackers.

“Time to move. Follow this unit.”

Devon nodded.

They navigated corridors, pipes, and tunnels—until they reached a control center.

Tech hummed. Lights flickered. Devon reached for the main power lever.

“Wait,” 073 said. “Deleting software first.”

It linked to the system. Scanned. Corrupted. Wiped.

“Now: return to Golden.”

Mission Outcome: The breach was neutralized. The Golden Army’s systems remained secure. Devon and PDU-073 had not only escaped—they had resisted, stood firm, and acted in unity.

The Hive now knew: This bond could not be broken.

Ready for your transformation? Contact: @brodygold / @goldenherc9