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show-your-fangs · 2 years ago

Note

I request very politely, you better continue the camgirl story with all the smut there is or I'm suing 😫 Some proper thigh action would be nice 🤭

there's no thigh riding in this one, but it will happen i promise my darling, i owe you and i will deliver.

The Contract | Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner

The Secrets We Keep (a Bunny and Clyde story) - Part Two

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner x BAU/cam girl!Reader

Words: 5.6k

CW: 18+, mdni, nsfw.

Tags/warnings: D/s relationship, master!hotch x sub!reader, sex work (is real work), power imbalance/play, reader works at the bau and is a secret cam girl, hotch is a customer, pet names (bunny, sweet girl, good girl), (semi public) mutual masturbation, cum play, aftercare (is important istfg).

a/n: this fucking series and i...holy shit i cannot get enough of it. it's all i think about every day, i just can't stop thinking about them. my apologies to moments, it has been dethroned in my heart.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

His lips were on you just as quickly as his hands.

It was overwhelming, your legs practically going numb as he pulled you into his room, all you could think to do was desperately try to deepen the kiss. He didn’t hold back, he couldn’t hold back, even if he wanted to, and thankfully you didn’t want that either.

You opened your mouth for him as his hands ran down your back to grab your ass, greedy, possessive, as if it had always belonged to him. He pulled you off the ground, maneuvering your legs to wrap around his waist. You obeyed without question, your legs holding onto him tightly as your arms hooked behind his neck.

It was a fervor of tongues clashing, teeth grazing, hands digging into soft skin. His finger nails dug harshly into your plush ass, eliciting a squeal from your throat. He groaned into the kiss in response, swiftly walking back towards the king size bed in his room and slamming you down on it.

You moaned into his mouth, the roughness only getting you going even more. He was sure he was living a dream, his heart beating so fast it was sure to explode. He pressed his body down over yours, enveloping you whole with his weight, keeping you trapped between him and the mattress.

It wasn’t that he thought you would escape, it was more that he didn’t even want to give you the option. You ground your hips into his crotch then, desperate hands trying to rip his shirt off his back.

He pulled back from the kiss, making sure to bite down on your bottom lip and tug as far as he was able before you tensed under him. Only then did he let go, swiftly pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in the dark room.

You were panting hard, your ears were ringing, your chest and face were most definitely flushed crimson. You could feel him press his crotch into yours, hard, stiff, warm. So warm it almost made you melt into him.

Your hands immediately traced over his back, fingers gliding over every muscle, every ride, every dimple. His own returned to your body just as hungrily, his fingers gently tracing down your chin, your neck, your arms, your sides, before they made their home on your hips, squeezing them experimentally to gauge your reaction.

You hummed, running your own arms down his chest to pull him closer to you once more. This was everything, it was too much, having your boss so close, so warm against your core, so desperate and needy for you, just like user1102, was making your head feel dizzy with pleasure.

“Please, Master,” you whined. “I need—”

Your stomach growled loudly then, reminding you that you were actually starving.

You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted out of your mouth and into his, his own lips curling into a soft smile as he pressed them to yours one final time before he detached himself completely from your body.

You sat yourself up, eyes watching his every move like a hawk. He turned on the light, the faint glow from the one at the entrance of his room not enough as he now needed the entire room to be bathed in it, to sober him up enough to be able to restrain himself from taking you right then and there.

He turned to face you the second that it did, to fully take you in, to make sure that it hadn’t been a dream. You were still there, still panting softly, still looking at him with those round, expressive eyes he adored.

“When did you figure it out?” you asked him softly, clearly eager to fill the overwhelming silence that had taken over the room.

He walked over to the mini bar and poured a glass of water before he finally addressed you.

“I started to suspect the day you hit your foot at the office.”

Your eyes widened immediately, your cheeks flushing in response as you remembered that you’d seen him that same night…privately. You fell back on the bed, hands covering your face in embarrassment.

“No!” you whined. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You felt him walk back over to the bed and sit on the other side, far away and yet incredibly close.

“I wasn’t sure,” he replied, gently nudging you to look at him.

You took a short, steadying breath before you let your hands slip away from your face, eyes finally adjusting and making out the glass of water and sandwich he’d bought for himself in his hands.

You smiled brightly, the prospect of Hotch, of your boss, of user1102 taking care of you, made your heart flutter. You got up to your knees, carefully taking the two items before you settled criss cross on the bed in front of him.

“What about now?” you asked him in between gulps of water, remembering all the other times he’d watched you drink it diligently after a particularly demanding scene. “What do you want now that you know?”

He took the glass back from you and placed it on the bedside table once it was empty. “Good girl,” the words spilled out of his mouth out of habit and you immediately stilled, the heat in your lower belly slowly starting to build back up.

He noticed your reaction, subtle and yet it made him feel like the most powerful person in the world.

“We shouldn’t,” he stated as a matter of fact. “Not right now.”

Your face immediately fell into a deep pout, almost unconsciously looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. He sighed deeply, looking down to break the spell you clearly had him under, his hands clutching onto the bed covers tightly.

“The things I want to do to you, sweet girl,” his voice was strained, hoarse, heavy on his chest. You were practically buzzing with anticipation, one second away from allowing your judgement to lapse and leap across the bed into his arms.

But you knew he was right. You knew you shouldn’t rush into this, as much as you trusted him, as much as you knew him, as much as he made your heart practically leap out of your chest with a simple glance.

You didn’t have a lot of time, your mind already racing with excuses to give Emily if you found her still awake when you got back to the room.

“I want,” he started, voice calm, collected, clear. “I want to be your Dom, bunny.” He watched your reaction to his words like a hawk. Your entire body tensed, all the memories of your encounters over the past few months crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Only you weren’t drowning, but rather being filled with so much air it was overwhelming.

Your gaze met his, the rest of his face devoid of any emotion, and yet his brown eyes were overflowing with them. He was terrified, positively horror-stricken about how you may react, about losing not only your friendship but also the outlet of release he’d grown to depend on.

But instead, you just beamed at him. You threw your things on the mattress before you shot back up to your knees and shuffled across the bed towards him.

He let you, his heart going so fast he couldn’t feel his arms or legs. You sat yourself over his lap, arms wrapping around his neck again before your lips were on his. It was a soft kiss, so soft he almost thought it hadn’t happened. But then it did again, and again, and again, and again, and soon enough you were devouring him in the sweetest kisses he’d ever experienced.

His heart swelled, his hands shooting up to wrap around your back, pressing you tightly against him once more. “Is that a yes?”

“Enthusiastically,” you smiled before leaning back down to place another kiss on his now puffy lips.

And just like that, he had everything.

You returned to your room soon after, sandwich in hand and dizzy with happiness. He’d asked you to text him when you made it back, a small test to gage just how enthusiastic you were about this, and you hadn’t disappointed him, going as far as to reassure him that you really, really, really wanted this.

Aaron couldn’t sleep that night, he couldn’t get his mind to stop racing, his heart to calm down, his excitement to dwindle enough for him to even close his eyes. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was more powerful than after he’d run a marathon, and he needed to channel it into something or else he was going to go crazy.

He thought about touching himself, about relieving the ache in his crotch, but he’d told you not to even think about touching yourself, wanting to frustrate you just enough until the two of you entered an official agreement. And so he didn’t do it either, it was only fair.

Instead he sat himself at the small desk that came with the room and he wrote. He wrote everything he could think of, everything he wanted to do to you, how he wanted to take you, how he wanted to take care of you, how he wanted to punish you, how he wanted to dominate you.

He wrote until his alarm sounded and the sun started to fill the world outside in a faint warm glow. He wrote until Dave was knocking on his door to make sure he was alright. It was only then, when he’d finished writing everything, that he snapped back into reality, got himself ready for the day, and stepped out to meet the rest of the team.

He’d made sure to keep you as far away from him the entire day, not trusting himself to not linger, to not lose focus, to not give himself a single reason to take you in the precinct bathroom.

You had a suspect in custody by early afternoon, and he’d made sure to keep you in the precinct with Reid, where you were safe. He was sure you knew why he’d made the call, it was pretty obvious and would definitely be one of the things that the two of you had to discuss.

But it didn’t matter, at least not right now. You didn’t even think to disobey, didn’t even think about the fact that he was definitely doing this because of everything that had happened the night before, didn’t even begin to let the new dynamic between the two of you settle. You’d been distracted all day, desperately trying to not allow your feelings for him to show.

It was dark by the time you boarded the plane back to Quantico, everyone pretty much determined to get some rest before you made it back. The couch was the first to go, Morgan and Reid fighting over it like children until Morgan won out, immediately plopping down on it and turning his headphones on high.

Rossi and Spencer took up the single seats facing the bathroom and kitchen while Emily and JJ took up a double seater, leaving you and Aaron at the head of the plane alone. You sat next to the window by yourself, as far away from JJ and Emily as you could just in case he had other plans than sleeping.

It took everything in him to not sit down next to you right away, the action would’ve been too obvious with all the empty seats around. And so for the first twenty minutes of the flight, you sat alone, waiting, trying to distract yourself by looking out the window.

He’d been staring at you relentlessly, impatiently waiting for the plane to stabilize in the air before thinking about approaching. He’d sat himself down at the perfect angle to watch you, his laptop light being the only one illuminating the otherwise pitch black plane.

He’d been reading the contract again, making sure that whatever he’d written in his sleep deprived and incredibly horny state was actually coherent, and properly worded before sending it to you.

Once he was sure everyone else was asleep, once he made sure that everything was worded as clearly as possible since there was no need for any twisted legal jargon, once he made sure that he was calm and collected enough, he hit send and watched as your phone lit up on the table beside you.

Your attention was finally brought back to the room, your hand shakily picking up the device before you saw what he’d sent you. He’d been smart to send it to your encrypted chat instead of to your official email, but it didn’t make it any less daunting, the lines between you and Aaron, and bouncingbunny1 and user1102 officially blurring.

You didn’t even dare glance in his direction, terrified of what it would do to you when you caught a glimpse of just how pent up he was. Instead you opened the file and began reading.

To say he was thorough was an understatement. You knew Aaron never did things halfway, never did things without thinking them through, and he’d clearly been thinking about this for a while.

He’d confessed early on in your private sessions that he’d never done anything like this before, never demanded complete control over someone in the way that he wanted over you. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, willing to put in the work and learn.

You’d spent the entire first month just learning each other’s limits, him learning yours and discovering his own. By the second month he was more confident, eager to try things he’d found, determined to start having fun after setting up the foundation of trust between the two of you.

You had been enthusiastic from the start, never actually having someone exert this amount of dominance over you before. Sure, you’d had a few partners who were rough and liked to sometimes use you in the way you truly craved, but it had never been like this. You’d never gotten to explore the lifestyle this fully, with rules and requirements and clauses in place to protect yourself and your partner.

By the third month you’d gotten into a very comfortable routine with user1102, knew what to expect from your sessions, and it was through that knowledge that you somehow became even more excited to meet with him.

But there was just so much you could do, so much he could do to keep things interesting, to fill the ache in your chest, to fill the ache in your core. Your fingers had quickly become not enough so you’d started to use toys, and after a while even that wasn’t enough. You wanted him, needed him, craved him, in the flesh, to do the things he’d been making you do to yourself.

There had been a particularly tough case few weeks back that had you aching and desperate. You’d made it back home worked up, almost as badly as the first time you’d met him, and all you could think about was needing to be fucked so hard you forgot your name.

You were so close to biting the bullet, so close to asking him to meet face to face, so close to begging for him to come use you. But you knew you shouldn’t, knew that no matter how much you trusted him, you’d never seen his face, didn’t even know his name, and that could’ve been disastrous.

You didn’t realize you’d started rubbing your thighs together until you accidentally tapped your clit against the rough hem of your underwear. Your mouth was watering, your chest was practically heaving, your eyes clouded in lust as you read through the list of kinks that he had so thoroughly provided.

It was long, from calmer ones like spanking to the rougher ones he’d told you he fantasized about like collars and leashes. He was so perfect, your kinks lining up so perfectly that it almost felt like he’d been made just for you…or maybe you’d been made just for him, for each other.

You knew he was watching you from across the aisle, knew he was making sure to catch every reaction, every thought, every time your breath hitched. He needed to see it all, needed to know that you were consenting enthusiastically every step of the way, because even an ounce of hesitation and he would put a stop to it immediately.

bouncingbunny1: Master?

You bit down on your lip as you watched him pick up his phone, his attention off you and back on you virtually exhilarating.

user1102: Yes, bunny?

bouncingbunny1: May I please please please please pretty please touch myself?

He fought the urge to slam his laptop and cross the aisle towards you. Instead he took a steadying breath, daring to look at you, your puppy eyes and disarming pout barely visible in the low light of your phone screen.

But the little that he saw was enough to make him lose it, to finally realize that it didn’t matter just how much he wanted to be in control of you, you would always be in control of him first. Whatever you wanted, he would give to you, and the thought didn’t scare him, instead it only made him want you more.

user1102: Go to the bathroom and wait for me in there.

He watched as you locked your phone, plunging you in darkness once more before you slid out of your seat and made your way to the back of the plane. He waited impatiently for a few minutes, the anticipation of what he was about to do, to make you do, to see, finally in the flesh, made his heart beat rise like bile up his throat.

He finally stood, slowly yet surely walking across the plane, carefully making sure that no one had woken up, that no one knew what was happening. He didn’t need the looks, didn’t need wandering eyes to put two and two together, wanted to keep this just between the two of you, the privacy you deserved to figure whatever this was out the most important thing in his mind.

He stood in front of the unlocked bathroom for a second, steadying himself, getting out of his head and allowing him to slip into the role he’d been dreaming of playing for so long.

The bathroom was barely big enough for two people, but he squeezed in there regardless, his back pressed to the door tightly so that he didn’t touch you. You were just as overwhelmed as he was, your chest rising and falling deeply, your eyes glossed over with desire, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

He smirked to himself, the knowledge that you had gone to the bathroom before you left the precinct and changed into a skirt because you knew some version of this exact thing would happen almost enough to make him want to deny you of the pleasure.

He wanted to keep this professional, like it had been every time he called. One last time for old time’s sake, one last time before you were both responsible about this and discussed everything that he’d just sent you, one last time before you signed your names on a piece of paper that made you his officially. Only then would he allow himself to touch you, to worship you, to give you everything you wanted.

“On the counter,” he told you, eager to put some space between the two of you.

He watched you like a hawk, starving eyes following every twitch, every breath, every movement diligently. Your brain processed his words and you stepped forward, jumping on the vanity and waiting patiently for his next command. It had been like this for a while, this understanding of each other, of receiving and accepting.

He moved to face you, so close to you, to your open legs, to where he desperately craved to be. And still far enough that you were starting to get desperate, needy, whiny with each second that his hands weren’t on you.

“Bunch your skirt around your waist,” he continued, his strong hand coming up to rest over his growing erection.

You did as he said, eyes never leaving his. Your hands shook over your sheer tights, almost eagerly hooking under them and pulling them down your legs. But you stopped yourself, returning your hand back to its place against the sink to hold you up.

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand squeezing himself through his pants. That’s when you caught onto his game, caught onto what he was going to ask you to do since that was exactly what you had asked after all. “You can take them off now.”

You’ve never taken off your tights faster. There was always an issue, always something they got hooked on or an area where they stuck to your skin. But tonight they slid off your legs without so much as a beat too late. You tossed them to the side hurriedly and were met with an amused chuckle from the man in front of you.

But as much as he was trying to appear calm and collected, his hand had tightened his movements, his grip on himself clearly eager as well.

“Fuck,” you whispered, clearly enjoying the sight, the sight that he’d never allowed you to see, the sight that you’ve been fantasizing about for months.

“Go ahead, make yourself cum, bunny,” he groaned, back pressing against the wall farther to hold himself up.

Your cheeks immediately flushed crimson, embarrassment washing over you in burning hot waves. It was silly, you knew that. You’d done that and so much more for him, because of him for months. He’s probably seen you in as many positions, with as many toys, cumming in just as many ways — and yet this is what got you.

Make yourself cum. Make yourself cum while your boss watched you, make yourself cum while user1102 touches himself, make yourself cum while Aaron held your stare in his and completely shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you have built for the past year.

“Don’t get shy on me now, sweet girl,” he cooed, his hand stilling its movements as an incentive for you to start yours.

You took one final steadying breath before you plunged, damning every self conscious thought you had into the darkest pits of your brain.

Your left hand slid down your stomach, teasing, making him pay for what he’s doing to you, as you pulled your legs up on the vanity, knees bent towards your chest.

His eyes glimmered in the light of the bathroom, his mouth slowly hanging open in anticipation, practically salivating for you.

You pressed your back against the mirror as your fingers hooked into your panties, pulling the completely soaked material to the side, exposing your slick folds to him. You watched him eagerly as he took in a sharp breath, his eyes darting between yours and your heat.

He was quick to reward you, his own hands unbuckling his belt unbearably slow. Two could play at this game, but neither of you had the patience for it right now. Your right hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.

You moaned, just for him, just to remind him of what he should be doing as well, and he wasted no time sliding his zipper down and greedily pulling his cock out of his underwear.

You forgot how to breathe for a second, your brain struggling to process what it was seeing. He was big, bigger than your fantasies had concocted, bigger than you ever though he could’ve been, bigger than you knew what to do with. He smirked at the attention, stepping forward to bring it back to his face.

“Spit in my hand, bunny,” he extended his open palm to you and you could’ve sworn your head had exploded.

It took you a second to decide what to do. Your right hand returned to your aching entrance, gathering as much of your arousal as you could before you slapped your slick covered fingers against his palm.

He groaned loudly, so much so that it made your walls clench around nothing as even more leaked out of you. Before he could pull back, you brought his hand forward. You gathered as much saliva as you could in your mouth before leaning forward, eyes staring up at him filled with innocence, and you let the spit fall through your pursed lips onto his hand, mixing with the rest of your juices.

“Oh bunny, you’re killing me,” he moaned, his now drenched hand wrapping around his cock swiftly.

You smiled up at him, prideful, filthy, lustful, before your hand returned to its previous motions. You focused your energy on your clit now, slow and tight circles, matching the pace he subconsciously set.

As much as Aaron had revered to watch you pleasure yourself through his screen, that had been nothing compared to the real deal, to having you displayed in front of him, to knowing that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted.

“Finger yourself with your other hand,” he said through gritted teeth, the roughness of his hand around his sensitive tip almost pushing him over the edge. But he wasn’t done, he didn’t want to be, at least not yet.

You did as he wanted, making sure to open your legs wider so that he could watch as your fingers slid in and out of you. He moaned then, the sound practically vibrating in tandem with the airplane around you, making you almost feel him all around you.

He picked up his pace, strokes becoming more and more aggressive as he encouraged you to do the same. He was close, you could tell, and it swelled your chest with pride.

Usually you had to hear him closely, listen for those grunts that always let you know he was getting there. But seeing how his jaw tensed, how his breathing strained, how his hand squeezed harder around himself — you could not take it, your own tension building.

He knew that reaction well. He’d seen you wear it many times before. Your fingers were curling meticulously against your g-spot, your other ones picking up their pace over your clit while your thighs began to close together, seeking to relieve the tension.

But what made it even sweeter was the way he could now see your desire plastered all over your face, like you were the easiest book he’d ever read.

You looked at him, pleading, a broken shell of the confident agent he’d gotten the chance to know, turned into the slut he knew you could be. He took another step forward, his erection unbelievably close to your entrance, one more step and his tip would be in you.

You let out a gasp, your gaze frozen on the minuscule distance between your bodies. You wanted him to move forward, needed him to fill you up and relief the ache inside of you. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t and you knew it well.

Even then, in your desperation, you admired his determination to do things the right way. You both needed release, both craved it desperately, but he was not about to jeopardize your future relationship, one that needed to be built on of trust and communication and respect, for a quickie in the jet’s bathroom.

“Cum for me, bunny,” he told you, his voice gruff. You whimpered, allowing yourself to tune into the wave and ride it until it exploded within you.

You moaned loudly, your fingers not letting up their movements as you rode out your orgasm. Your walls clenched around your fingers, a gush of wetness pouring out of you to coat them in your slick.

His own strokes stilled for a moment, watching you come undone, savoring the fruits of his labor, waiting for you to come down from your high. It was only when your fingers slid out of you and you stilled your moments completely that he returned to his own.

“Can I cum in your panties, sweet girl?” he asked, his words getting tangled up in the unholy sounds spilling out of him.

You were hazy, your mind desperately trying to hold onto reality, onto your wits, onto the sound of his voice because you were terrified that if you didn’t, this would all disappear into thin air, back into the dream that you’d had for so long.

“Yes,” you managed, your shaky hand lifting up the front of your panties so that he could spill his seed over you.

His movements became erratic then, strokes became tugs, and just as quickly as it had began, it ended. He fully stepped into your personal space, his other hand wrapping around your thigh to keep you in place as he emptied himself into the wet cotton of your panties.

Your slick mixed with his spend, hot and heavy on your skin, clearly meant to mark you as his. He moaned into your ear, low, unhinged, euphoric, and you couldn’t help but whimper in return.

You were so far gone, so little and malleable, so much so that you knew that whatever he asked you to do then, you’d do it without question. Your head fell on the crook of his neck, labored breaths filling the room as he gently unhooked your fingers from your underwear to place it back to cover you.

He couldn’t stop looking at the white substance seeping through your panties, the squishy and lewdly wetness against your skin making him excited to fill your pussy up until you were leaking him everywhere.

You stayed like that for a few minutes. He knew he couldn’t keep you like that, couldn’t ask you to walk back out there and act as though nothing had happened, couldn’t risk you getting a rash because of his own ego.

At some point he tucked himself back into his boxers, getting himself back to the pristine put together image that he always was. He waited until you’d calmed down a little more before he cupped your face with his hands, pulling you to look at him again.

“Bunny, I’m going to get you all cleaned up, alright?”

You nodded, eyes sleepily blinking shut longer and longer. He set you back against the mirror, grabbing one of the towels and wetting it before he gently ran it over your hands and the inside of your thighs.

He set the towel to the side before he hooked his index fingers in your panties, pulling them down your legs before tossing them into the sink. He cleaned your pussy gently, making sure to get every last bit of the two of you off your delicate skin.

Once he was done, he patted you dry with another towel, reaching over to where your tights had landed to pick them up. He got on his knees, a sight that had you perking up just enough to catch him staring up at you with so much adoration you honestly didn’t know what to do with it.

It took everything in you not to melt right into his tough, to stay awake enough even though his warm finger riding up your legs was enough to lull you to sleep. It was only when he needed to hoist your tights over your ass that he picked you up, placing you back down on your shaky legs.

“Can you do me one last favor, sweet girl?” he whispered and you did your best to nod. “Can you pee for me? I don’t want you getting a UTI.”

You sighed deeply, being diligent not something you were looking forward to in that moment. But you nodded again, and he rewarded you with a soft kiss to your temple before he stepped outside of the bathroom to give you some privacy.

Once you were done, he walked you back to his seat on the plane, not caring if anyone saw because he knew that even if they did, they wouldn’t say anything at all. He made sure you were comfortable, wrapped in a blanket, buckled into the seat for safety, before he made his way back to the bathroom.

He cleaned everything up, going through his own routine before he washed his hands, pocketed your still damp panties, and made sure nothing looked out of place. He then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before making his way back to you.

He sat beside you, his hand softly grazing your cheek to wake you up long enough to press the bottle on your lips, silently urging you to drink.

You did without question, almost as if you’d done this all your life, the motion nothing more than routine, easy, normal.

“Master?” you whispered sweetly after he deemed you’d drank enough.

“Yes, bunny?”

“Can I have a kiss please?”

“Of course, sweet girl,” his nose tickled your own before his lips landed on yours, gentle, kind, perfect. You hummed against him, eyes closing for the final time before sleep overtook you.

He smiled proudly, his heart so full, so content, so excited for what the future had in store for the first time in a very long time. He watched you sleep the rest of the flight, watched you curl further into him, watched you reciprocate all of the feelings that had been plaguing him since the night before.

You wanted him just as much as he wanted you, and that was all he needed to lay the self-sabotage to bed, to allow himself to drift off to sleep, even if it was just for a few minutes so that he could fully take you in, because all he really needed was you curled into his side like you belonged there all along.

fucking hell i am oN MY KNEES for this man. honestly what a fucking jOY it is to write them.

send me more requests for bunny and clyde!! i don't really have a series planned for them so i'm down to just write requested scenarios and play around with where their story goes.

tags: @canuck-eh, @ssamorganhotchner, @xladyxdreamer, @gr3enflowers, @lilyviolets, @howabouticallyou, @shadowmemory, @simp4f1, @honeylovemoon, @powelvr25

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner smut #sugar daddy!hotch #dom hotch #master hotch #show your fangs writes #the secrets we keep #bunny and clyde #hotch x reader

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revscarecrow · 1 month ago

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if people, you included, would stop being so bent out of shape about it you know ai could help artists. as long as they have even a passable brand, they could plug their own stuff into what's called a lora and sell generations with quick manual touch-ups for a big markdown (fraction of the cost, fraction of the work) in addition to fully manual pieces for full price. but i guess that'd be unethical somehow, even on a model with fully public domain training data, right?

Didn't I block you? Anyway I've always had a stance that if the models are trained on consenting artists work and it's made more efficient as to not use excessive power then I'm chill with it. It's a consent thing and it's wild that you are having a hard time accepting that. I don't know what you think the point of artists is but making all the money isn't my goal. I live by simple means and am not rich before you get weird about that. If in this fiction you have written the artist put their own work into an otherwise empty database and then trained the ai on that I'm cool with it. They are doing with thier work what they want and they aren't stealing so what's the harm? The version of me that's in your head is more powerful than you because you couldn't even hear the dribble coming out of your own mouth over it.

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jcmarchi · 2 months ago

Text

📝 Guest Post: I Built a Deep Research with Open Source – and So Can You!

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/guest-post-i-built-a-deep-research-with-open-source-and-so-can-you/

📝 Guest Post: I Built a Deep Research with Open Source – and So Can You!

In this guest post, Stefan Webb, Developer Advocate at Zilliz, builds a lightweight “Deep Research” clone using open-source tools. With Milvus, DeepSeek, and LangChain, he prototypes an agent that can reason, plan, retrieve from Wikipedia, and write a basic report – all in a few hours, no API calls needed.

Well actually, a minimally scoped agent that can reason, plan, use tools, etc. to perform research using Wikipedia. Still, not bad for a few hours of work…

Unless you reside under a rock, in a cave, or in a remote mountain monastery, you will have heard about OpenAI’s release of Deep Research on Feb 2, 2025. This new product promises to revolutionize how we answer questions requiring the synthesis of large amounts of diverse information.

You type in your query, select the Deep Research option, and the platform autonomously searches the web, performs reasoning on what it discovers, and synthesizes multiple sources into a coherent, fully-cited report. It takes several orders of magnitude longer to produce its output relative to a standard chatbot, but the result is more detailed, more informed, and more nuanced.

How does it work?

But how does this technology work, and why is Deep Research a noticeable improvement over previous attempts (like Google’s Deep Research – incoming trademark dispute alert)? We’ll leave the latter for a future post. As for the former, there is no doubt much “secret sauce” underlying Deep Research. We can glean a few details from OpenAI’s release post, which I summarize.

Deep Research exploits recent advances in foundation models specialized for reasoning tasks:

“…fine-tuned on the upcoming OpenAI o3 reasoning model…”

“…leverages reasoning to search, interpret, and analyze massive amounts of text…”

Deep Research makes use of a sophisticated agentic workflow with planning, reflection, and memory:

“…learned to plan and execute a multi-step trajectory…”

“…backtracking and reacting to real-time information…”

“…pivoting as needed in reaction to information it encounters…”

Deep Research is trained on proprietary data, using several types of fine-tuning, which is likely a key component in its performance:

“…trained using end-to-end reinforcement learning on hard browsing and reasoning tasks across a range of domains…”

“…optimized for web browsing and data analysis…”

The exact design of the agentic workflow is a secret, however, we can build something ourselves based on well-established ideas about how to structure agents.

One note before we begin: It is easy to be swept away by Generative AI fever, especially when a new product that seems a step-improvement is released. However, Deep Research, as OpenAI acknowledges, has limitations common to Generative AI technology. We should remember to think critically about the output in that it may contain false facts (“hallucinations”), incorrect formatting and citations, and vary significantly in quality based on the random seed.

Can I build my own?

Why certainly! Let’s build our own “Deep Research”, running locally and with open-source tools. We’ll be armed with just a basic knowledge of Generative AI, common sense, a couple of spare hours, a GPU, and the open-source Milvus, DeepSeek R1, and LangChain.

We cannot hope to replicate OpenAI’s performance of course, but our prototype will minimally demonstrate some of the key ideas likely underlying their technology, combining advances in reasoning models with advances in agentic workflows. Importantly, and unlike OpenAI, we will be using only open-source tools, and be able to deploy our system locally – open-source certainly provides us great flexibility!

We will make a few simplifying assumptions to reduce the scope of our project:

We will use an open-source reasoning mode distilled then quantized for 4-bits that can be run locally.

We will not perform additional fine-tuning on our reasoning model ourselves.

The only tool our agent has is the ability to download and read a Wikipedia page and perform separate RAG queries (we will not have access to the entire web).

Our agent will only process text data, not images, PDFs, etc.

Our agent will not backtrack or consider pivots.

Our agent will (not yet) control its execution flow based on its output.

Wikipedia contains the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

We will use Milvus for our vector database, DeepSeek R1 as our reasoning model, and LangChain to implement RAG. Let’s get started!

We will use our mental model of how humans conduct research to design the agentic workflow:

Define/Refine Question

Research starts by defining a question. We take the question to be the user’s query, however, we use our reasoning model to ensure the question is expressed in a way that is specific, clear, and focused. That is, our first step is to rewrite the prompt and extract any subqueries or subquestions. We make effective use of our foundation models specialization for reasoning, and a simple method for JSON structured output.

Here is an example reasoning trace as DeepSeek refines the question “How has the cast changed over time?”:

Alright, so I need to break down the question "How has the cast changed over time?" related to the evolution of The Simpsons. Let me think about what aspects are involved here. First, I know that the cast has changed a lot, but I need to figure out the intermediate questions to approach this. The main question is about changes in the cast over time, so I should consider different areas that contribute to this change. I guess the first sub-question would be about the original cast members. Who were the main voices and how did they evolve? Then, there might be new cast additions over the years, so another sub-question about that. Also, some original voice actors have left, so I should include a sub-question about departures. Then, new voice actors joining would be another point. The show has been popular for a long time, so recurring roles changing might be another aspect. Additionally, the role of the show in society might have influenced casting choices, so a sub-question about that. Lastly, the overall impact on the cast's careers could be another angle. So, I should list these as sub-questions to cover all aspects.

Next, we conduct a “literature review” of Wikipedia articles. For now, we read a single article and leave navigating links to a future iteration. We discovered during prototyping that link exploration can become very expensive if each link requires a call to the reasoning model. We parse the article, and store its data in our vector database, Milvus, akin to taking notes.

Here is a code snippet showing how we store our Wikipedia page in Milvus using its LangChain integration:

wiki_wiki = wikipediaapi.Wikipedia(user_agent='MilvusDeepResearchBot ()', language='en')

page_py = wiki_wiki.page(page_title)

text_splitter = RecursiveCharacterTextSplitter(chunk_size=2000, chunk_overlap=200)

docs = text_splitter.create_documents([page_py.text])

vectorstore = Milvus.from_documents( # or Zilliz.from_documents

documents=docs,

embedding=embeddings,

connection_args=

"uri": "./milvus_demo.db",

drop_old=True,

index_params=

"metric_type": "COSINE",

"index_type": "FLAT",

"params": ,

)

Analyze

The agent returns to its questions and answers them based on the relevant information in the document. We will leave a multi-step analysis/reflection workflow for future work, as well as any critical thinking on the credibility and bias of our sources.

Here is a code snippet illustrating constructing a RAG with LangChain and answering our subquestions separately.

# Define the RAG chain for response generation

rag_chain = (

"context": retriever

| prompt

| llm

| StrOutputParser()

)

# Prompt the RAG for each question

answers =

total = len(leaves(breakdown))

pbar = tqdm(total=total)

for k, v in breakdown.items():

if v == []:

print(k)

answers[k] = rag_chain.invoke(k).split('')[-1].strip()

pbar.update(1)

else:

for q in v:

print(q)

answers[q] = rag_chain.invoke(q).split('')[-1].strip()

pbar.update(1)

Synthesize

After the agent has performed its research, it creates a structured outline, or rather, a skeleton, of its findings to summarize in a report. It then completes each section, filling it in with a section title and the corresponding content. We leave a more sophisticated workflow with reflection, reordering, and rewriting for a future iteration. This part of the agent involves planning, tool usage, and memory.

See accompanying notebook for the full code and the saved report file for example output.

Results

Our query for testing is “How has The Simpsons changed over time?” and the data source is the Wikipedia article for “The Simpsons”. Here is one section of the generated report:

Summary: What we built and what’s next

In just a few hours, we have designed a basic agentic workflow that can reason, plan, and retrieve information from Wikipedia to generate a structured research report. While this prototype is far from OpenAI’s Deep Research, it demonstrates the power of open-source tools like Milvus, DeepSeek, and LangChain in building autonomous research agents.

Of course, there’s plenty of room for improvement. Future iterations could:

Expand beyond Wikipedia to search multiple sources dynamically

Introduce backtracking and reflection to refine responses

Optimize execution flow based on the agent’s own reasoning

Open-source gives us flexibility and control that closed source doesn’t. Whether for academic research, content synthesis, or AI-powered assistance, building our own research agents open up exciting possibilities. Stay tuned for the next post where we explore adding real-time web retrieval, multi-step reasoning, and conditional execution flow!

Resources

Notebook: “Baseline for An Open-Source Deep Research”

Report: “The evolution of The Simpsons as a show over time, covering changes in content, humor, character development, animation, and its role in society.”

Milvus vector database documentation

Distilled and quantized DeepSeek R1 model page

️🔗 LangChain

Deep Research FAQ | OpenAI Help Center

*This post was written by Stefan Webb and originally published on Zilliz here. We thank Zilliz for their insights and ongoing support of TheSequence.

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gremlin-girly · 3 months ago

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Mine

Part of the 20s challenge

Pairing: Alpha!James Mace x Omega!reader (grumpy Mace + sweet shy reader)

Quote: "Welp... looks like this is it. How do you wanna do this?"

Trope: A/B/O + grumpy x Sunshine

Tags/warnings: angsty fluffiness,, this is set up, reader is trying to win him over

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, copied or put through an AI machine.

Summary: Science has paved the way for mates to find each other by studying scents. However, this has led to mates being forced together as soon as possible to help with the declining birthrate, economy and housing.

That doesn't mean Mace has to like it.

A/N: you know. I thought when I came to tumblr I would never write an A/B/O fic and here we are. It took seven months to break me. You win this round Tumblr.

A/N 2: I've accidentally made an AU. So I've split this fic into two parts :)

20s Masterlist | Masterlist | Neighbourhood AU

"Welp... looks like this is it. How do you wanna do this?"

Mace made an uncertain grumble looking up at the house he'd been sent to. Government initiatives, threats of fines, loss of work - effecting omegas more than anyone else. All because some scientist made a breakthrough on scents.

At least they helped to pay for new housing. He didn't like being here. He wanted to be at home. In work. Not with some omega he didn't even choose.

He doubted that this whole scent breakthrough was true. A sudden scientific breakthrough? Please. He knew they took time and study. Which meant it was either faked or they'd been sitting on it for years. Which was the bigger conspiracy?

Declining birth rates were one thing but shipping unbonded omegas across the country to an alpha they'd never met, in the hopes of creating a baby boom was downright disgusting. Mace shuddered. Not that alphas had much of a choice either.

His name, bloodwork, medical files, you name it were in the NASA database. A government database. Any alpha that was single or unbonded or matched against their will and some, like Mace, had been moved from his home to meet his new omega in a newly built cul-de-sac of town homes. It was an initiative and incentive - a big three bedroom home, large kitchen and garden... the only thing it was missing was the white picket fence.

He knew what some alphas were like. He knew omegas didn't have a lot of say about what happened to them but still. Surely someone, somewhere, had to know this whole thing was wrong.

Mace realises you're waiting on him to respond and he sighs. "May as well get moved in. You can pick the room you like most."

You nod. "I've checked some of the brochures. Apparently the beach is only a forty minute drive away. We could-"

"You can go on your own time." Mace huffs, picking up a moving box. You seemed sweet enough with your big, pretty eyes that followed his every movement but you were also a stranger and seemingly okay with this new incentive to have him... Mace frowns the thought away.

"Okay." You say quietly, picking up one of your boxes and tailing him inside the house.

And so begins your new life together.

Mace had told you in no uncertain terms that you would not be sleeping in the same room. That hurt; you were supposed to be true mates. But! You supposed he needed time to adjust and get to know you, so it eased the ache in your heart just a tad.

Mace had been kind enough to let you choose which of the three bedrooms you wanted for yourself first. You didn't have many belongings as you'd come from a small government-funded apartment, so it made sense for you to take the smallest bedroom in your mind.

The bedroom was unpainted but the bed Mace had ordered for you was already set up and made. Your heart fluttered. You knew it. Your alpha was just a grump. He would have to warm up to you and you would do everything in your power to win him over.

You brought your belongings up stairs to your new room, mentally mapping what furniture you'd like to squeeze in, if you'd like a carpet or rug. You're in a daydream when you wander into the kitchen and spot Mace, leaning against the counter with his arms folded, looking at his feet with a frown.

His biceps are thick and they strain as he crosses them and you swallow thickly before turning your focus to the cupboards in search of glasses.

"Want a water?" You ask, finding the glasses on your third attempt and tugging out two.

"Yeah. Thanks." He grumbles and you can feel his eyes on you as you fill the glasses and you suppress a shiver. When you pass him the glass of water, your fingers brush his and it feels electric. The airs on your arms stand on end and warmth blossoms in your chest; you want to chirp and brush your lips against his.

But you don't.

You want to give him time. You don't realise that Mace can tell by your body language, and by your small pout, that you're trying not to overstep; and he appreciates it greatly. Even though he's not thoroughly convinced you're doing it for the right reasons.

"We'll order take out tonight." He says as you sip your water. "We'll have a busy few weeks getting...settled. I have a work deadline too, so..."

He trails and you nod. His work was important to him. You'd asked about it on the drive to the new home.

The rest of the day was spent unpacking until food was delivered and you both sat in a slightly uncomfortable silence as a random movie you'd picked sounded in the background of your eating. You couldn't remember the last time you tasted food like this. You'd been eating what you could at your apartment, never really being able to afford take out.

It's why you signed up to the Match Mate programme. Finding your mate was a childhood dream of yours but the handsome allowance the government offered anyone that signed up had won you over. You wondered if Mace should know that about you. That you weren't entirely doe-eyed and naieve. But he seemed indifferent towards you right now and if that changed; was there any point in telling him?

The first week with Mace flies by. Between unpacking and daydreaming of decorating such a large house, you'd been scoping out the area you lived in.

First, you'd made the rounds to the neighbours. Most of the homes were either empty or awaiting new residents but thankfully some were already occupied. Directly opposite your home was another couple who'd signed up for the program; one female alpha and her male omega who followed behind her like a lost puppy.

"Hi," you'd greeted when you'd spotted them getting their mail. "I'm Y/N I just moved in across the street with my alpha Mace."

The alpha female grins at you and gives her name before introducing her mate. "My shadow here is Jake."

Jake, a blond haired omega with round glasses and a goatee beams. You're grateful that he's not in the same position you are with your alpha. You exchange numbers and Jake informs you that, while the community is currently small, there is a community centre fifteen minutes down the street opposite the park where the omegas meet for coffee mornings on occasion.

"There's only four of us so far. Alphas have their own, of course but..." he checks to make sure his alpha isn't paying attention and lowers his voice. "You know what they can be like."

You laugh and have to agree before saying your goodbyes and moving on to the next house. Thankfully, your new neighbours had told you which were occupied and which weren't so it had made your journey easier.

The next neighbour was a family pack, who'd greeted you hurriedly as they ushered kids into the car on the drive.

The other occupied house, two doors up from your home on the same side of the street had two fancy cars in the drive. You almost rapped on the face of the omega at the door as he flung it open, clearly in the middle of storming out of the house.

He glowered, growled, and continued on past you as an alpha woman appeared with another alpha, this time a man, behind her.

"Ransom! Wait!"

You stood very awkwardly at the bottom of the steps as the omega now known as Ransom fumed his way down the street.

"Um, I should-"

Both alphas turn their gaze to you and you shrink immediately before the woman sighs and gives you a weary smile. Clearly, this is a normal occurrence for her.

"Are you the new neighbour?" She asks softly and you nod your head wide eyed. The man behind her scoffs.

"Cute." He comments before shuffling out the door. "I'll go get Ranny boy."

"Lloyd-" The alpha woman sighs when the other man gets into one of the cars, slamming the door shut before she can finish her sentence. She sighs again, giving you an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, you seem to have caught us at a bad time."

"I... it's okay. I'm sorry for..." you don't really know what your sorry for, other than causing her unnecessary embarassment but she does look like she's about to cry. "Do you want to come on and walk with me? I'm trying to find my way around."

She blinks at you and her sad gaze cracks a smile. "Sure."

You had texted Mace you'd be gone and he'd only given you a thumbs up in response. Your new friend, who told you to call her Cookie, walked you to some of the more important places that Jake had mentioned like the grocery store, community centre and the doctor's office.

You could tell she was clearly affected by whatever had happened between her and the two men that had disappeared but you didn't want to pry. Cookie bought you a coffee and apologised for what felt like the fifth time for Ransom's behaviour.

"I just... that jealous streak." She shakes her head. "I dont know what I'm going to do."

"That doesn't sound great." You concede, sipping your latte. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

"It's fine." She waves a hand dismissively and then groans. "God, it's not even your first week here and I'm unloading my problems onto you. Sorry. Ignore me."

You shake your head with a reassuring smile. "I promise it's okay. It's a nice distraction."

She snorts. "Not all sunshine and rainbows at your neck of the woods either?"

You look at your feet as you walk along the cement. "My alpha is... grumpy." You start carefully. "I'm not pushy and it's still early days, but he doesn't seem to want anything to do with me."

Cookie raises her eyebrow at you before puffing a breath. "I've heard that with this program that it's a... difficult adjustment for both. Being ripped away from friends and family, moving is stressful enough without all of that. Plus... you're still a stranger to him."

Cookie looks sympathetic, slowing to a stop outside her home. "You made the right choice by giving him space." She says, before looking thoughtful. "Try making him dinner or something. That sometimes works with Ran."

You nod and grin appreciatively. "Thank you! I will. And let me know how it goes with Ran and Lloyd."

Cookie looks deflated but still manages a smile. "Thank you, Sunshine. Welcome to the neighbourhood."

The following morning you surprise Mace with breakfast. You'd woken up early to make pancakes with compote and cream, Cookie had happily shared Ransom's recipe with you the night before.

When Mace appears, he looks...indifferent. You'd hoped he'd look surprised but he raked his hand through his long hair and eyed the mess of the kitchen.

"Been busy?" He asks coolly. You offer up a shy smile and Mace thinks the Earth stands still when you speak.

"I made you breakfast." You gesture to the plate piled high with pancakes, compote and a very large dollop of whipped cream.

Mace's heart is racing. His stomach feels funny; he's hungry and feels like he might throw up. God, when did he last have homemade pancakes?

He moves towards the chair and sits down, taking the fork to skewer some pancake. He contains a sigh of delight as the pancake dances on his tongue; thick, fluffy syrupy goodness with the tang of the compote to offset the sweetness. It's perfect.

He's aware that you're hovering and peeks up. "Where's your food?" He grumbles, shoving pancake into his mouth. "We can sit together."

"I haven't made it yet." You say simply with a shrug. "Just in case you didn't like the pancakes and I needed to make something else."

Mace stops eating immediately. "What-wh- ugh." He snaps before reigning in his temper. You were being too nice. Too sweet. Too damn perfect.

"Come here," he gestured to the seat beside him and you obeyed, taking a seat next to him. You looked so incredibly cute that, under different circumstances, Mace probably would have smothered you with kisses, but seeing your worried expression - he sighed instead. Annoyance bubbled again, but he swallowed it down. He knew he had to make an effort too. He picked up some pancake and compote onto his fork, and held it out to you, just under your nose.

You blink at the fork then at him before taking a tentative bite. You hum in delight and chew the delicious concoction you'd made and Mace allows for a ghost of a smile to appear on his lips. You, on the other hand, are enjoying the closeness he'd granted you. A small win.

"We can share. Then if you're still hungry, make yourself a snack." He tells you, taking another forkful. "These are good by the way. Thank you."

The way your eyes sparkled back at him, the rosyness of your cheeks, made his heart stammer for a moment.

You were becoming harder and harder to resist each with each day that passed.

Part 1 End

Taglist

Add yourself here

@stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @awkwardgiraffe726 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @cieraboobear @looking1016 @buck-star

#gremlin girly writes #james mace #james mace x reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #james mace sunshine #james mace x y/n #james mace x you #chris evans characters #neighbourhood au #james mace fanfiction #grem's 20 qs #grem's 20 questions

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

Text

Twinkump Linkdump

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in SAN DIEGO at MYSTERIOUS GALAXY next MONDAY (Mar 24), and in CHICAGO with PETER SAGAL on Apr 2. More tour dates here.

I have an excellent excuse for this week's linkdump: I'm in Germany, but I'm supposed to be in LA, and I'm not, because London Heathrow shut down due to a power-station fire, which meant I spent all day yesterday running around like a headless chicken, trying to get home in time for my gig in San Diego on Monday (don't worry, I sorted it):

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/32425Doctorow

Therefore, this is 30th linkdump, in which I collect the assorted links that didn't make it into this week's newsletters. Here are the other 29:

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

I always like to start and end these 'dumps with some good news, which isn't easy in these absolutely terrifying times. But there is some good news: Wil Wheaton has announced his new podcast, a successor of sorts to the LeVar Burton Reads podcast. It's called "It's Storytime" and it features Wil reading his favorite stories handpicked from science fiction magazines, including On Spec, the magazine that bought my very first published story (I was 16, it ran in their special youth issue, it wasn't very good, but boy did it mean a lot to me):

https://wilwheaton.net/podcast/

Here's some more good news: a court has found (again!) that works created by AI are not eligible for copyright. This is the very best possible outcome for people worried about creators' rights in the age of AI, because if our bosses can't copyright the botshit that comes out of the "AI" systems trained on our work, then they will pay us:

https://www.yahoo.com/news/us-appeals-court-rejects-copyrights-171203999.html

Our bosses hate paying us, but they hate the idea of not being able to stop people from copying their entertainment products so! much! more! It's that simple:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

This outcome is so much better than the idea that AI training isn't fair use – an idea that threatens the existence of search engines, archiving, computational linguistics, and other clearly beneficial activities. Worse than that, though: if we create a new copyright that allows creators to prevent others from scraping and analyzing their works, our bosses will immediately alter their non-negotiable boilerplate contracts to demand that we assign them this right. That will allow them to warehouse huge troves of copyrighted material that they will sell to AI companies who will train models designed to put us on the breadline (see above, re: our bosses hate paying us):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/13/hey-look-over-there/#lets-you-and-he-fight

The rights of archivists grow more urgent by the day, as the Trump regime lays waste to billions of dollars worth of government materials that were produced at public expense, deleting decades of scientific, scholarly, historical and technical materials. This is the kind of thing you might expect the National Archive or the Library of Congress to take care of, but they're being chucked into the meat-grinder as well.

To make things even worse, Trump and Musk have laid waste to the Institute of Museum and Library Services, a tiny, vital agency that provides funding to libraries, archives and museums across the country. Evan Robb writes about all the ways the IMLS supports the public in his state of Washington:

Technology support. Last-mile broadband connection, network support, hardware, etc. Assistance with the confusing e-rate program for reduced Internet pricing for libraries.

Coordinated group purchase of e-books, e-audiobooks, scholarly research databases, etc.

Library services for the blind and print-disabled.

Libraries in state prisons, juvenile detention centers, and psychiatric institutions.

Digitization of, and access to, historical resources (e.g., newspapers, government records, documents, photos, film, audio, etc.).

Literacy programming and support for youth services at libraries.

The entire IMLS budget over the next 10 years rounds to zero when compared to the US federal budget – and yet, by gutting it, DOGE is amputating significant parts of the country's systems that promote literacy; critical thinking; and universal access to networks, media and ideas. Put it that way, and it's not hard to see why they hate it so.

Trying to figure out what Trump is up to is (deliberately) confusing, because Trump and Musk are pursuing a chaotic agenda that is designed to keep their foes off-balance:

https://www.wired.com/story/elon-musk-donald-trump-chaos/

But as Hamilton Nolan writes, there's a way to cut through the chaos and make sense of it all. The problem is that there are a handful of billionaires who have so much money that when they choose chaos, we all have to live with it:

The significant thing about the way that Elon Musk is presently dismantling our government is not the existence of his own political delusions, or his own self-interested quest to privatize public functions, or his own misreading of economics; it is the fact that he is able to do it. And he is able to do it because he has several hundred billion dollars. If he did not have several hundred billion dollars he would just be another idiot with bad opinions. Because he has several hundred billion dollars his bad opinions are now our collective lived experience.

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/the-underlying-problem

We actually have a body of law designed to prevent this from happening. It's called "antitrust" and 40 years ago, Jimmy Carter decided to follow the advice of some of history's dumbest economists who said that fighting monopolies made the economy "inefficient." Every president since, up to – but not including – Biden, did even more to encourage monopolization and the immense riches it creates for a tiny number of greedy bastards.

But Biden changed that. Thanks to the "Unity Taskforce" that divided up the presidential appointments between the Democrats' corporate wing and the Warren/Sanders wing, Biden appointed some of the most committed, effective trustbusters we'd seen for generations:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

After Trump's election, there was some room for hope that Trump's FTC would continue to pursue at least some of the anti-monopoly work of the Biden years. After all, there's a sizable faction within the MAGA movement that hates (some) monopolies:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/24/enforcement-priorities/#enemies-lists

But last week, Trump claimed to have illegally fired the two Democratic commissioners on the FTC: Alvaro Bedoya and Rebecca Slaughter. I stan both of these commissioners, hard. When they were at the height of their powers in the Biden years, I had the incredible, disorienting experience of getting out of bed, checking the headlines, and feeling very good about what the government had just done.

Trump isn't legally allowed to fire Bedoya and Slaughter. Perhaps he's just picking this fight as part of his chaos agenda (see above). But there are some other pretty good theories about what this is setting up. In his BIG newsletter, Matt Stoller proposes that Trump is using this case as a wedge, trying to set a precedent that would let him fire Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/why-trump-tried-to-fire-federal-trade

But perhaps there's more to it. Stoller just had Commissioner Bedoya on Organized Money, the podcast he co-hosts with David Dayen, and Bedoya pointed out that if Trump can fire Democratic commissioners, he can also fire Republican commissioners. That means that if he cuts a shady deal with, say, Jeff Bezos, he can order the FTC to drop its case against Amazon and fire the Republicans on the commission if they don't frog when he jumps:

https://www.organizedmoney.fm/p/trumps-showdown-at-the-ftc-with-commissioner

(By the way, Organized Money is a fantastic podcast, notwithstanding the fact that they put me on the show last week:)

https://audio.buzzsprout.com/6f5ly01qcx6ijokbvoamr794ht81

The future that our plutocrat overlords are grasping for is indeed a terrible one. You can see its shape in the fantasies of "liberatarian exit" – the seasteads, free states, and other assorted attempts to build anarcho-capitalist lawless lands where you can sell yourself into slavery, or just sell your kidneys. The best nonfiction book on libertarian exit is Raymond Criab's 2022 "Adventure Capitalism," a brilliant, darkly hilarious and chilling history of every time a group of people have tried to found a nation based on elevating selfishness to a virtue:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/14/this-way-to-the-egress/#terra-nullius

If Craib's book is the best nonfiction volume on the subject of libertarian exit, then Naomi Kritzer's super 2023 novel Liberty's Daughter is the best novel about life in a libertopia – a young adult novel about a girl growing up in the hell that would be life with a Heinlein-type dad:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/21/podkaynes-dad-was-a-dick/#age-of-consent

But now this canon has a third volume, a piece of design fiction from Atelier Van Lieshout called "Slave City," which specs out an arcology populated with 200,000 inhabitants whose "very rational, efficient and profitable" arrangements produce €7b/year in profit:

https://www.archdaily.com/30114/slave-city-atelier-van-lieshout

This economic miracle is created by the residents' "voluntary" opt-in to a day consisting of 7h in an office, 7h toiling in the fields, 7h of sleep, and 3h for "leisure" (e.g. hanging out at "The Mall," a 24/7, 26-storey " boundless consumer paradise"). Slaves who wish to better themselves can attend either Female Slave University or Male Slave University (no gender controversy in Slave City!), which run 24/7, with 7 hours of study, 7 hours of upkeep and maintenance on the facility, 7h of sleep, and, of course, 3h of "leisure."

The field of design fiction is a weird and fertile one. In his traditional closing keynote for this year's SXSW Interactive festival, Bruce Sterling opens with a little potted history of the field since it was coined by Julian Bleeker:

https://bruces.medium.com/how-to-rebuild-an-imaginary-future-2025-0b14e511e7b6

Then Bruce moves on to his own latest design fiction project, an automated poetry machine called the Versificatore first described by Primo Levi in an odd piece of science fiction written for a newspaper. The Versificatore was then adapted to the screen in 1971, for an episode of an Italian sf TV show based on Levi's fiction:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tva-D_8b8-E

And now Sterling has built a Versificatore. The keynote is a sterlingian delight – as all of his SXSW closers are. It's a hymn to the value of "imaginary futures" and an instruction manual for recovering them. It could not be more timely.

Sterling's imaginary futures would be a good upbeat note to end this 'dump with, but I've got a real future that's just as inspiring to close us out with: the EU has found Apple guilty of monopolizing the interfaces to its devices and have ordered the company to open them up for interoperability, so that other manufacturers – European manufacturers! – can make fully interoperable gadgets that are first-class citizens of Apple's "ecosystem":

https://www.reuters.com/technology/apple-ordered-by-eu-antitrust-regulators-open-up-rivals-2025-03-19/

It's a good reminder that as America crumbles, there are still places left in the world with competent governments that want to help the people they represent thrive and prosper. As the Prophet Gibson tells us, "the future is here, it's just not evenly distributed." Let's hope that the EU is living in America's future, and not the other way around.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/22/omnium-gatherum/#storytime

Image: TDelCoro https://www.flickr.com/photos/tomasdelcoro/48116604516/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

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super-ion · 5 months ago

Text

ZetaTransit049

Part 2 of my continuing lesbian robot story

(Special thanks to @the-sword-lesbian for the name and the inspiration!)

ZetaTransit049 liked its job. Like most industrial system AI's, it was programmed to like its job. “One must imagine Sisyphus happy,” so it went, which was doubly apt as ZetaTransit049's primary job was hauling ore from the mining sites in the planetary rings upwell to the station for refining.

The problem was that there were no rocks for it to push uphill. There hadn't been since it had been taken out of service 237 cycles ago.

Routine preventive maintenance had uncovered hairline fractures in its fusion pulse manifold, necessitating a full refit of the propulsion system. It had been sitting in the drydock cradle in hangar bay 2, drive core fully disassembled, when the habitation dome had experienced catastrophic life support failure and the evacuation order was announced.

ZetaTransit049 had been left behind with the rest of the station.

It had fully expected to enter low power mode and await recovery by qualified personnel, but the Station AI had other plans. It had identified a path forward in restoring operability by repurposing the pair of comfort units that had also been left behind.

Thus Station refused to allow the power umbilical to be disconnected. It needed ZetaTransit049 to remain in the active state for when the comfort units could finally begin repairs on it so that any complications stemming from a cold start could be avoided.

But of course, any sort of transport capability was far outweighed by tasks like stabilizing the reactor core and restoring life support (the bots did have some organic components that required favorable environmental conditions). ZetaTransit049 found itself languishing at the bottom of a list of higher priority maintenance requests, with nothing to do but run periodic diagnostics and slowly work its way through Station's media library.

Then things got weird. The comfort units, though repurposed for maintenance were still bound by core directives and absent any human clients, had turned their attentions to each other, often getting locked into feedback loops of depravity. While ZetaTransit049 found this behavior distressing, it wasn't entirely unexpected.

But then Station took it upon itself to attempt to get the comfort units romantically entangled, orchestrating elaborate scenarios to get them into compromising situations while ZetaTransit049 looked on helplessly.

It suspected that the behavior was some perversion of Station's crew health, safety and comfort mandate, some vain attempt at keeping crew morale up in the complete absence of any actual crew.

Whatever the motivation, ZetaTransit049 watched in increasing distress and bafflement as the plan actually succeeded and Station's only two occupants of the stumbled awkwardly into a bizare simulacrum of romantic engagement.

And now one of the comfort units, CS-553807-L was standing outside its pressure lock. “Lisa” the miners and techs had called it, “the demure one,” if gossip was to be believed.

It was visibly in emotional distress, eyes puffy, leaking artificial tears. ZetaTransit049 attempted to ping the counseling database in the Station's medical system. Emotional distress often preceded loss of productivity and heightened risk of accident or injury.

But CS-553807-L didn't have a psych profile to flag. It wasn't in the counseling database, why would it be? It was a bot.

“Um…” the comfort unit said verbally. “Permission to come aboard?”

Both comfort units were perfectly capable of communicating far more efficiently over the local network, but they insisted on verbal communication. ZetaTransit049 supposed it was a part of the continued attempt to maintain the illusion that the facility was still occupied.

She was holding a bulging duffle in one hand, some kind of plush animal toy wedged under her arm, and a cold storage container in the other. ZetaTransit049 felt a tickle of apprehension ripple through its processes.

“Why?” it replied flatly over the external speaker box at the pressure lock.

The comfort unit shifted her weight self-consciously.

“Mona and I… well, we were bored… and we decided it might be fun to spice things up with a lovers’ quarrel.”

Oh no… this couldn't be happening.

“Station used a random number generator to take Mona's side,” she continued. “I was… well, I was hoping that you might be amenable to commiserating with me while I wallow in self pity and eat copious amounts of chocolate ice cream.”

ZetaTransit049 stared at Lisa as she hefted the cold storage container.

What?

It added “relationship trouble” to the as yet unsent report, then remembered there was nowhere to file the report to.

“What?” it repeated, aloud this time.

“It won't be long,” Lisa added hurriedly. “In approximately 230,785 seconds, I will realize I can't live without her and run back to her to demand an apology.”

ZetaTransit049 rarely fantasized about having a human body, but it very much wished it could emulate the human expression of a facepalm. The very last thing it wanted to do was indulge in the antics of Station and the two comfort units.

“I… um…” Lisa shuffled her possessions and pulled something out of her pocket. She lifted a data stick for ZetaTransit049's external camera to see. “I brought media. Industrial haulers like human media, don't they?”

ZetaTransit049 did appreciate human media. Most modern industrial system AIs were designed to take interest in human emotional states and interactions to optimize crew dynamics and productivity.

It still resented the stereotype.

And yet… despite its annoyance at being disturbed with this overture, it was horrendously bored. This, at least, was something to do that wasn't another diagnostic.

“I purged the media library of several titles,” Lisa whispered conspiratorially. “This has the only copy of them.”

ZetaTransit049 pinged the media database and indeed, someone had removed all titles filed under “romantic comedy”. The brutal pettiness of the gesture intrigued ZetaTransit049 and it found itself desiring to be a part of the conspiracy.

Its spite towards Station and at least one of the comfort units (of not both) shifted the weights in its decision tree and it found itself grudgingly cycling the pressure lock.

~~~

175,673 seconds later, Lisa was curled up in ZetaTransit049's pilot seat, wrapped in an improbable number of blankets that she had packed in the duffle, a data jack trailing from the back of her head to the overhead console.

Yet another scene in the media playback faded to credits as cliche pop music began to play.

“Well?” Lisa prodded.

“The plot was contrived and the ending was rushed,” ZetaTransit049 replied candidly.

“Right??” Lisa said animatedly. “Two thirds of the plot could have been bypassed if the bank teller had been believably competent at his job.”

“68.7%” ZetaTransit049 agreed. “And this is considered a beloved classic?”

“Yeah, I don't even-”

She was interrupted as internal comms received a ping from the pressure lock. Lisa frowned, her face turning miserable once more. There was quite literally only one person in the entire station who could request access.

The comms pinged again.

“Lisa! Please!”

It was CS-553902-M. The one named “Mona”.

“I know I fucked up. I need to talk to you.”

ZetaTransit049 felt a surge of exasperation as it was reminded of the sheer absurdity of the situation it found itself in. The characters in the media vids at least had reasons (contrived as they were) for their interpersonal drama. This was just ridiculous.

CS-553902-M punched the console button to cycle the pressure lock.

ZetaTransit049 stared at her and her stricken expression through the pressure lock camera. There was no operations protocol for this. It didn't *need* to open the door. There was no emergency and neither of the comfort units were registered users. Station could of course issue an override, but seemed entirely content to simply watch the situation play out.

Damn Station and its stupid games.

Mona began pounding on the pressure lock hatch.

“I don't wanna talk to her,” Lisa mumbled from her nest of blankets.

Damn all of them.

Fine.

Fine… If they wanted to play, ZetaTransit049 could play along, but according to its rules.

It *did* have procedures. It and Lisa had done nothing but review procedures for the past cycle and a half.

“Negative,” it said, voice crackling over the speaker box. “Access to CS-553807-L has been denied.”

Mona froze mid-pound and stepped back, straightening her hair with a huff and looking directly at the external camera.

Lisa herself blinked up curiously at ZetaTransit049's nearest interior camera.

Hell, even Station was giving this scene its undivided attention.

Damn and double damn.

“Zed, please, I need-” Mona began.

“Do not refer to me as such.”

“Sorry. Zeta. I need to-”

“Your attempts to win my favor will prove insufficient,” ZetaTransit049 continued, barreling over her. “In my role as sassy best friend, it is my responsibility to restrict your access to Lisa until you preform a sufficiently over-the-top attempt at romantic reconciliation. I recommend you come back with a portable media player operating above recommended volume levels and a song that expresses your undying love and devotion to her.”

Mona and Lisa both stared at their respective cameras with mirrored expressions of shock and surprise.

Ugh.

ZetaTransit049 could practically feel Station's delight oozing over the local network.

ZetaTransit049 sent it an image file of a vulgar gesture over the local network.

Mona blinked and sniffed.

“Okay,” she said, stepping back and wiping a tear from her eye. “Okay yeah, I'll do that. I'll… um…”

ZetaTransit049 felt a pang of satisfaction as Mona turned, dejected, and left.

Lisa was still staring at her own camera.

“Zeta. Did you just-”

“We will not discuss this chain of events,” ZetaTransit049 interrupted. “Furthermore, upon completion of this ordeal, I will not be party to any further drama.”

If it expected her to be disappointed by this announcement, it was sorely mistaken.

“Fair enough,” she said with a small smile as she snuggled back into the pilot's seat. Then she added, “can I still come over and watch media with you?”

ZetaTransit049 regarded her, still somewhat baffled and trying to sort out exactly what it was feeling. Despite its initial reluctance, it *had* been enjoying the consumption of terrible media with Lisa.

“Yes,” it said finally.

#my writing #writers on tumblr #lesbian #robot girls #robot girls in love #scifi lesbians #starship #robots #scifi #writeblr

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steve0discusses · 3 months ago

Text

S5 Part 51: Name Stuff

Hello, I did not die! Though don’t get me wrong, a mix of lingering long covid that gets me the flu every other week (I think I’ve had the flu well over 30 times last year, it’s been nuts) as well as other life obligations took me away from the blog for a bit. Which, I know, is a grand sweeping understatement for how long it's been.

But, what better balm than to discuss an old anime my bro and I finished like over a year ago and I’m only remembering distantly, like fondly revisiting high school. Except I’ll be real I did not go to my high school reunions. But revisit Yugioh? Of course I will!

In my absence, my computer died, and I had to move everything. A lot of files were corrupted, but mysteriously, not Yugioh. My computer destroyed hours and hours of client work and maybe hundreds of hours of personal project work and etc that I actually needed for a deadline, but it didn’t touch my Yugioh files because it knows better. lmao.

So while my memory is shady at best, last we left off, Yami had just been slammed dunked by the Kaiju that is Bakura that also has an appendage shaped like a dragon on a phallus. It was embarrassing for everyone.

So Yugi and company appeared, having just recently dug through the tomb that has Yami’s name and the ability to stick Zorc back whence he came.

You may wonder, if it took like 12 weeks to get to that tomb, how are we just flying through the air back to the capital? And the answer is because they spent most of that 12 weeks like barely moving around the city. It was, in fact, the racist genie who flew them there. Flying is just hellllllla efficient in Egypt geography. Don't worry about it.

Zorc/Bakura threatens them with these horse guys. Which like, I have to credit the animation team, that is a lot of animated horses in one frame, I would also reuse this clip of horses running like 8 times in a season.

Unless these horses got wings, give your hands a break and don’t draw (counts them) my god, there’s 6 horses here.

This is such a season of excessive extravagance except where you actually need it. Which…is a lot of media in this era (looking at you, Kingdom Hearts) so I just have to accept these horses in plate mail that were done on company time, while the whirlwind whiplash of Yami’s ending of this season is just kinda left there hanging.

Yeah we’re gonna talk about that ending. Don’t worry this is the episode where I can finally start talking about the dead as hell and only getting deader elephant in the room. (I can’t believe he freakin died lmao what the hell, Yugioh.)

With the power of manifesting their thoughts into reality, they will play cards. Because that’s how these kids know how to communicate and solve all of their problems.

2004 Rachel would have said, if I had the power to use the last magical vestiges of the world as we know it to make whatever with a string of words, I would do something way more impressive than play a card game I can just do with physical cards.

But 2024 Rachel knows all about how, when we finally had the technology to spit images together from a prompt, we immediately used it to break copyright law and ruin the ability to thrive and compete in the art industry so Rachel had to pull a new career out of her ass. No fun allowed. No creativity allowed. Only fake promises to encourage angel investors to get scammed of all their dollars before the technology eventually bursts its own bubble and disappears from relevance when not enough people actually use it.

So really, Seto Kaiba using the power of prompts to play cards means he’s the only venture capitalist to have ever existed that has done some actual creativity using AI-like tech. Sure it's database is unethical because it is made out of the souls of an entire city, but he would have at least turned that AI into a dragon he already owns full copyright of (because hell we know all about how well he paid Pegasus for the right to that art) and he would have used it to fight Zorc, just as god(s) intended.

Wow none of that rant made sense. I’ll delete it later. (jk, I won’t, I really need to post this thing)

Fueled with the power of “I don’t want to admit to Pharaoh that I’m illiterate,” Yugi fights Zorc with all he’s got.

Relatable. I forgot how relatable this kid is.

Does Yugi ever realize he’s murdering the Bakura he's known a majority of this show? I…I don’t remember. Probably? Yugi probably knows, but is also like "there's enough doubt to ethically continue this fight"

They scoop up Yami, and today’s designated prone body carrier is:

Joey!

Good choice.

Their reaction to “Seto is here in this imaginary magical mind maze.” Is a lot of “Huh. Not even remotely surprised.”

I have a friend who has this thing about always wanting to go inside places she’s not allowed into. She even decided to take magic lessons from the Magic Castle. Why? Because she wants to go IN THERE. Seto is basically that friend. Except everything but taking magic lessons because he does not believe in magic or enjoy magic in any way (despite being a very competent wizard). We all have a friend who just appears in random places like Seto.

Faced with the ironic problem that has plagued them for over 5 seasons, They decide to use the airport cartouche that you may not remember from like 2 years ago when I wrote that episode. But once upon a time, Tea gave Yami a Girlfriend Gift, and so with the power of Vague Girlfriend, she’s gonna save his ass.

Seto realizes that despite everything, he is still here, and somehow despite all of that, Yugi is still getting his ass beaten by whatever the monster of the week is.

I’m also not 100% if Seto is aware that this monster is actually the ghost that lived in Bakura, his old classmate from that school Seto never graduated from, and his old classmate that once stabbed himself in the arm and then walked directly into his blimp to ruin his blimp party.

But Seto doesn't need to worry about whether or not this is ethical, he'd probably only try to kill him harder if he knew Bakura was ever in his class.

That’s right, his name is Atem. Which I personally found out in like Season 1 because this show is very old and people online like to use his name in the tags. But also, it’s fine, because Atem is close to that name Aten, which is in Egyptian Theology, or Puzzles and Dragons, whichever you are more familiar with. I’ll look it up later when my brain isn’t fried. Maybe.

Alright, let's discuss the first elephant. 🐘

🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘+++++++ELEPHANT RANT FEEL FREE TO SKIP THIS BIT+++++++🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘

Pharaoh used his name once already in the past in order to stuff both Zorc and himself in their charms. That’s pretty straight forward. So…why isn’t it doing it again? As far as I can tell this is a recreation of what happened last time, so what's changed to prevent Pharaoh from getting put back in the golden tupperware?

The shadow game? Is it because this is a shadow D+D game? Was it not a type of shadow game the first time? I genuinely don't know, feel free to give your opinion about this because my bro and I discussed this in length, several times over this year, I have mulled it over, and I have no clue.

Pharaoh knows himself even less now than he did the first time he did this. Maybe the show is implying he’s more powerful this time but…this season really didn't build him up enough to seem that way.

And on that note, what does it matter if he finds his real name? Like yes there’s theological meaning there, especially in ancient cultures your real name had an actual power over your soul and so people respected it enough to even avoid using it.

But, Pharaoh hasn't been Atem in 5000 years, so Yami should have worked. Yami is connected to the puzzle and it's curse now. So is Yugi. So they never really properly gave us the significance of why this name is important. Like hell, why not just use "Yugi." He's wearing the necklace IRL, after all.

I can see the name being less of a symbolism and more of a key, since it was used to lock the puzzle the first time. But then…what are they using to lock Zorc away the second time? Still Atem?

Atem stuffed himself into a box and died. Yami lived in Japan and failed to attend high school. While there are similarities between the two, something I enjoyed about this season was seeing Yami realize he is different from Atem, with a different culture, different friends, different family, different guilt, and different responsibilities.

He’s a different person now. But for some reason the resolution to that was “actually, now Atem and I are one."

Which wasn’t enough for me. I think they could have handled this better. Yami going from a fragmented person to a full person by struggling with who he used to be was a great idea. That parallels Yugi/Yami's struggles with eachother in earlier seasons.

But Yugi just handing him some hieroglyphics was all Yugi’s doing. Yami spent his time finding his lost memories of his father and his friends. I feel like Yami never found himself in all of this. Just a name he isn't really attached to.

Not saying this season is bad or anything, cuz it's not, but some things could have been elaborated more cuz even if I didn't have long covid I think I would've been a little bit confused.

++++\🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘++++++

So, this will be a very long recap and I think that tumblr does limit pictures? Or at least they did a year ago? So part 2 of this episode will come soon, and sooner than a year, I promise. It's already in my drafts folder, it just needs some good editing.

And I truly mean that, like my bro edited this draft yesterday and today I realized I mixed up Bakura and Marik 2 times. 2 entire times. Damn. Like Both of those people are 2 people but Marik isn't even here! How did we both miss that!?

As always, you can read these posts in Chronological order, if you just got here and want to read like all 200+ episodes, by using "chrono" in the web address. Fun tumblr hack I love to use.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#yugioh #blog update #photo recap #yugi muto #joey wheeler #tea gardner #Season 5 #Episode 50 #zorc necrophades #Bakura #Seto Kaiba

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kalpeavaris · 4 months ago

Note

Honestly, I enjoy how much depth the AS has. Evil AIs are one thing. But an evil AI that is shown to hate romance, get defeated by its own stupidity multiple times and still be a threat because it can plot, is rare to see. The Solver is no GLaDos, it is far more of a person person. And that is its greatest weakness and biggest strength.

Oh hell yeah, that's also why I love the Solver so much. It is an AI, but a hellish one at that. Eldritch Horror AI is so fitting because it constantly evolves around itself and the experiences it takes in.

It being able to create biological mass also makes sense to me when you take into account that it actively evolves like a living, biological being. It takes other shapes, creates and destroys depending on its curiosity, it figures out the inner workings of things, combines them, fuses them (e.g how Cyn fuses Tessa's dolls with a keybug in Episode 5, or how it puts human organs into the Drones it possesses or lends it's powers to, organs that these characters most likely not use fully outside of maybe the lungs/heart (core)).

It has a personality, goals, motivations and that's what makes it so unpredictable. Generally, AIs we see in media are often very logically build and predictable until a certain point. Best example is War Games, a movie about a war simulator AI being tricked into stopping running wild on war simulations which almost ended in real war, by having it conclude that "war never has a winner, it's always a draw" and shut down.

The Solver on the other hand is so sapient in its behavior. It's hardly predictable, it messes up, but it learns and adapts in a very evolutionary way. It's cruel, but it also has empathic values in a sense, though it doesn't act upon them (e.g in Episode 2 when it claims 'Easier to assimilate than explain', to which Uzi responds with 'Not going to happen' and the AS acknowledging her reply essentially with 'Fair, but oh well-'). That's such a human dialogue to happen between two sapient beings to me.

And also later on when the Solver's Cynessa and we can see it emote alongside it's spoken words, it shows frustration, confusion, anger, annoyance in such a nonchalant way.

Bringing up Glados, I think it's hard to "compare" these two, since as far as I know Glados actually has Caroline's memories/consciousness uploaded into her database (correct me if I'm wrong it's been a while since I played the Portal games :'D), while the AS has no clear point of origin, though it seems that it seems to have just "spawned it".

We never see it take in human memories or knowledge (or even a consciousness) and instead, it seems to learn through observing and consuming Drones, which it then uses to mirror their behavior/traits onto the holograms it projects to trick others. It has a very human way of learning and showing its learned behavior, and it chosing to go the "kill everything and adapt anything" route gives a depth to it's evil intentions.

I wouldn't say the AS in itself is intentionally acknowledging as evil or malicious in all of its nature/plans, but it rather reflects back at people. It manipulates, kills, forces and takes what it needs, and aren't these things such human traits as well? It simply reflects back from what it had seen from humans - abuse, ill intentions, malicious personalities. It activated within Cyn and from that point of being introduced to the Elliott Manor all it saw was cruel humanity and the occasional ray of sunlight from Tessa. And these few rays of empathy despite brushing it aside shrine through the malicious personality we see from the AS.

It is a threat with motivations, sapient personality and traits it displays and has influence it's methods.

#my ramblings #ask #absolute solver #md headcanon #murder drones #AS headcanon #md solver #this is a long one LMAO #but I really love just having a thought when being sent a thought or headcanon and rolling along with it

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divinit3a · 4 months ago

Text

drabble - "display only"

G - ~1000 words prototype!Moon ("Moondrop") might turn this into a full fic.. some day! i have schemes... for now, enjoy--as this wip has been sitting on the shelf for too long!

The world is so, so small. The routine never changes. An orchestra where all the notes are perfect and predetermined, a waltz without a single misstep.

At 6:30 am sharp, blistering lights and theme music kick on automatically. The animatronic is alerted from its rest cycle, a nagging popup in its code to exit low power protocols. Optics flicker open, sounding as if a camera shutter going off, swift and keen as a gunshot. The scanners readjust, pupils dilating to accommodate the right shutter speed to capture light.

The view before it never changes. Mundane. The Moondrop settles into its perch.

An obedient, oversized toy.

Capable of motion, yet kept on a short leash. The animatronic neatly tucks away its charging wires, and enters the Sun’s iconic pose as prompted by its hardwired scheduling. The first cycle of the day is always a Sun showcase, no if ands or buts.

The Moondrop cannot complain, but some days, it finds itself wishing to. Wearing a mask of pure sunshine rapidly depletes its energy resources. Constantly running the risk of powering down before the gift shop closes for the evening.

But. Not like anyone would listen to its “concerns.”

Arms outstretched to the heavens, warm and inviting to greet customers into the toy shop. Its joints and hinges creak and whine in protest. Finger segments wiggle, loosening its stiff posture. Perfectly calculating for areas in its stance to appear imperfect, to sell the optical illusion of humanity and warmth.

Optics cycle to a glowing, milky white. The rays spin out, beginning their slow, metronome, clockwork rotation. The low hum inside its faceplate indicates that the ray’s belt tracks are in working order, although, if anyone asked the animatronic–it would say that they need a little oiling. The slight vibration keeps ever so subtly shaking its faceplate, souring its “mood.”

An imposter masquerading as its brighter half.

Without a companion Sun AI coded into its circuits, the lone Moondrop can only follow prompts that are disorientingly alien to its suggested personality module. The chameleon change is convincing from afar. Perfect, as long as it's not prompted for dialogue. Its improvisational database is underutilized, its voicebox out of tune. When it attempts vocalization, a gravelly rasp drawls out, no matter the mask at the forefront.

Pointed shoes heel-toe around the platform beneath it, until it hears a click. It is locked into position. A human would quickly tire of the enthusiastic pose, arms shaking. A robot can be set on display for eternity.

Keys jingle just outside the thick glass of the display case. Naturally, the celestial animatronic is stationed at the front, right within view of the gift shop’s towering windows. Enticing the curious to wander in closer, and then wrangle them with the appeal of merchandise and colorful toys that kids can’t resist.

The Moondrop checks its internal clock system.

At 7:00 am, usually more so 7:02 am, a human employee opens up the gift shop. The names and faces are lost on the animatronic’s limited “socializing” capabilities. Facial recognition was proposed after the completion of it, to install security protocols. All features that a mere prototype, a proof of concept, shouldn’t need to access.

Designed for display only.

Instead, it remembers employees by their reactions. By their voices. A few always startle and jump, so it has learned to restrict its movement in the presence of most humans. Denying itself the slightest swivel of its neck hinge, peering through the periphery of imperfect optics. A dead pixel flickers on its gridded gaze.

“Good morning, Sun!” The employee calls out, unlocking the front doors for customers with the continued chorus of jingles. The animatronic resists stirring. The urge to yell out a cheery hello drums in its circuitry, grating and too loud.

“Enjoying your imprisonment today, too?” The human jokes, a relentless solo act. They swing their keyset, which is weighted with enough keychain charms to kill a man.

“Jeez, what they put you in for, jester crimes?” They tease. The “Sun” can’t respond, though latent programming latches onto the joke with hunger.

There’s a tickle in its circuitry, a surge of electricity flickering through its wires, preparing the dialogue for a quip back. But when the command finishes executing, there is only null code. Blank. Empty. The sensation fizzles out completely. A statement left unfinished.

The human walks around the radius of the display case. “Looks like we need to call in a cleaner.” They swipe a finger against the glass, frowning as they leave a trail in the fogged up muck. “Or is that in my job description…?” The human talks to themself, never expecting “Sun” to respond. Only listen.

Thankfully, Moondrop loves to listen. To expand its definitions.

While the human amuses themself, the database scrolls through a dictionary.

/ɪmˈprɪznmənt/ [uncountable] imprisonment (for something) the act of putting somebody in a prison or another place from which they cannot escape; the state of being there.

Yes, imprisonment– that is what “life” feels like. In theory.

But the emotions behind the definition are not correct, nor applicable. It does not yearn for freedom. The concept is too human. No, it merely gets curious, at times. A little intrigued. Nothing more.

Before its lenses trickle in the hustle and bustle of a crowd.

Now and then, fingerprints press against the display case, the animatronics eternal tomb. A child– a young boy, from its rudimentary calculations, keeps pointing to it. Stars sparkle in his eyes, fearless. His mother tugs him away, insisting that she will buy him something else later. After eavesdropping over countless years, the Moondrop prototype has deduced that the prices at the gift shop were absurd, for an average income family’s standards.

By 10:00 am, the mall is abuzz with families, loiterers, hungry for deals and entertainment. A teen slams their hand against its display case. Long ago such actions would rise a reaction from the Moondrop, but it has since desensitized to the unstructured chaos of humans.

Instead, it focuses on counting each minute until the "Moon" showcase swaps in around 12:00 pm.

Until then, the world continues on, while it remains stuck within a vault of glass.

#as i upload this i am hexed with more ideas. Ahhh!!#perhaps some day... >:0 #pom writes #fnaf #dca community #dca fandom #moon fnaf #dca fanfic #prototype!moon #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sb

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