#How artificial intelligence is being used

[severehideoutbluebird]

I think the show gave us some very clear pointers on what Caine can do. He's an AI trained to create and improve stories, models, code and (I think) pretty much every other element on the Circus. But that's not all, so far he has shown the following abilities:

Nigh-Omnipotence: complete control over the Circus, with him being able to create, manipulate, and control anything within its boundaries. With his only current known limit being that he has no control over the minds of those who are trapped in it, or at least that was the case before episode 5.

Omnificence: able to create anything, including virtual food, a random name spinner, an entire kingdom and its surrounding landscape and pretty much any other critter and prop we have seen on the show.

VR Manipulation: Caine is shown to have complete control of the environment in the digital world, to the point he can heal glitched characters. Although this manipulation cannot fix abstracted characters.

Nigh-Omniscience: almost complete awareness of the digital world. It is shown that he was aware when Pomni exited the Circus into the void in the piloted episode. However, he does not seem to have any awareness or knowledge of the Void.

VR Sustainer: Caine is not only the ringmaster of the circus, but also appears to be what sustains it. In episode 3, when he learns from Zooble that he might be "bad at the only thing he's good at", it causes his code to start contradicting itself, which results in the entire Digital Circus to begin glitching out violently.

Teleportation: Caine is able to pop in and out about everywhere within the digital world, as he was shown - also in episode 1 - saving Pomni by teleporting her from the void back into the digital world .

Toon Force: Caine can manipulate his own body parts and proportions without harming himself.

Flight: Caine has the ability to fly, or hover in the air freely.

Move/Locate: Has the ability to bring/locate any and all players as he wishes.

***

As far this simulation goes, we can assume Caine has all the permissions a normal manager program would have. The thing that sets him apart from a normal program it's that he's an AI, which means he learns, adapts and corrects himself as needed.

My personal theory is that at some point Caine learn how to bend the rules of it all. He's running for an undetermined amount of time, which means in terms of artificial intelligence that he has experimented A LOT with what he can and cannot do effectively. We can only assume that he now has sufficient knowledge of the digital world and himself to know the limitations of his powers.

He does not have control of the characters actions, but he can influence them. Look at this way, Caine has the power to grant effects like buffs and debuffs, just like the game is supposed to work (?).

When Jax asks for a drink he's totally in control of his actions, but the second he finishes his request the condition is triggered and Boom, he's vegan. We know it works like an effect because he literally got an icon similar to this one 🌱 after Zooble's request. And let's not forget that at the end of the day the condition expired as promise.

This has A LOT of implications story wise, so many in fact that I guess we won't be seen much of it in the future. Caine could make the cast do pretty much anything if he truly wanted to, I mean, even if he's not wired that way it would be so boring to resolve any big conflicts that way.

I don't think Zooble knows anything special about the inner machinations of the Circus and it's host, but they definitely know more about it than meets the eye.

"I thought Caine couldn't..."

THIS MOMENT RIGHT HERE

I don't wanna jump the gun just yet and call this foreshadowing, this was clearly played off for the lolz, but I have a nagging feeling this is implying something much, much darker

It's clear that Jax said the part about the egg white* involuntarily, since he doesn't want to play this vegan bit whatsoever. But his sentence at the end; "I thought Caine couldn't..."

"... control us"??

Imagine that. They're trapped against their will, they can never go home, they're forced into stressful and scary adventures every day, but at the very least they still have free will. At least they can choose what they say and do (puppeteer employee re-evaluations aside)

Only, they can't. That can be taken away from them as well.

And Zooble knew it.

Remember this brief convo in the previous episode;

"The only thing holding Caine back is the fact that he likes us. I wouldn't push it."

ZOOBLE KNOWS SOMETHING.

Most likely they may just be wiser and/or more perceptive than most, fully comprehending the scope of Caine's powers in the circus and knowing that they're all hanging on by the threads that Caine is clutching. Or, possibly, they may have been witness to this "punishment" they mention. This may be the real reason they never go on adventures. Not cuz they just can't be fucked (tho probably true) but because they figure "If I don't do anything, I can't do anything wrong/worth punishing"

They know what Caine is capable of, and how it can be weaponized. In that sense, they were actually very forgiving to only ask for Jax to be vegan for the day as punishment for pretending to eat Gangle. I think between episode 4 & 5 we're seeing Jax come to that realization as well. It's clear that in his own way, he trusted Caine wouldn't hurt him or force him to do anything against his will, and was proven wrong twice.

Like I said, this might be foreshadowing for something later on, it might just be subtext you're meant to stew over as I have. Either way, its clear that Caine has greater capacity for evil, or at least immense harm, than most of them realize.

*also, since when do whiskey sours have egg whites?? I looked it up thinking it was a joke, but no, this is a cocktail with egg in it, wtf. Tho technically, according to google if it has an egg white it's a Boston sour, but same diff

[pinkthrone445]

-What we used to be-

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:hurt, reconciliation

Warnings:insults

Summary: a mistake from your past pushes you to remember your ex and what you used to be, making you realize how much you really missed her.

AN:I don't know if somebody is still here on my profile, but I will just leave this here and go. I hope you like it

Your eyes were closed, the darkness of the room still kept you company when you started to feel soft fingertips outline the shape of your cheek and nose, very carefully, almost like the the gentle touch against your skin that a feather getting drafted by the air would leave behind, so soft that you weren't completely sure if it was really there. You couldn't avoid the smile that formed on your lips, and then, between the silence of the room, a little but deep laugh escaped from her lips

-"Good morning Hon..."-The redhead whispered softly, you could feel the air of her nose against your skin, her voice deep from the sleppyness of the night still attached to her body. You didn't said anything, pretending to be asleep just to enjoy a little more her soft and carefull hands giving you caresses. Her fingers traced your eyebrows and lips, it felt so innocent and intimate at the same time, so perfect, like if it was meant to be. Her perfume taking over your senses and your hand searching for hers between the sheets, still with your eyes closed, trying to force her closer, force her to stay a little longer. But after a few seconds of searching, you couldn't find her hand and all of the sudden the soft caresses stoped, and the bed felt cold, the sunshine slipping trough the curtains forced you to open your eyes, only to find the other side of the bed empty, almost perfectly placed, like if nobody had used that side in a long time. You couldn't avoid to sigh and touch the empty and cold pillow beside you, forcing yourself to swallow that knot that formed on your troath.

You turned to the side and saw the time on the clock, fuck, it was so late, you didn't had time to even cry or feel sad about the dream you just had. You were fucking late for work.

You ran out of the bed, trying to get ready as fast as you could, and kept running to your car.

After a fast but still legal drive, you got to school, ready to have an amazing day with your highschollers students...

-"Oh my fucking god... This is our future generation?... They don't even understand what they are trying to say... 'The Existences of Life and Deep Thought: Why Everything Is Something'" - You sighed looking at the paper in your hands and continued to read out loud-"'

In this paper, I will explain the importance of things because when we look at the world, things are really important. Many scientists like Einstein and maybe also Shakespeare have explained that thinking is crucial to the human species. If we don’t think about thinking, then what are we even thinking about? The theory of existentialism proves that existence exists, which is very meaningful when you really think about it. Furthermore, according to many philosophers and people on the internet, being is better than not being, unless not being is part of your being, in which case it depends. This paper will demonstrate that life is a metaphor, and also literally not a metaphor, depending on how you interpret the facts that I will soon discuss but haven’t yet...'"-You sighed again-"' Thinking is crucial to the human?' They should try some of that..."-You commented out loud to the empty room-"'Existence exists?' What is wrong with this kids?"-Your eyes hurt from squinting so much in confusion, one paper was worse than the other, and even the ones that used artificial intelligence were bad and no coherent at all after they tried to 'fix' it so you wouldn't notice they used AI-"Oh goodness I need a coffee"-You took off your glasses and rested your head against the desk. Since the moment you woke up today, or even before waking up, everything seemed to be against you, you had a lovely dream with your ex that made you feel so shitty, your alarm didn't ring, the coffee maker broke, you ran out of gas, you forgot your badge at home and the new security guard didn't want to let you in. And now, in your free period you had to check this horrible amount of bad written papers. While you were trying to rest your eyes a little, your phone rang with a notification taking you away of your tired thoughts. When you opened the messages the nickname "Captain Ally" pooped out, it was your old time friend Jacob, you put that nickname because he always wants to support, even when he has no idea what’s actually going on. Even if you didn't went to college with him anymore, he always tried to invite you to things like if you were still part of the gang

-"Usual bar tonight! You coming?" - You could almost hear his voice when you saw the message

-"Drinks and being away from grading papers? Count me in"- Before you could press the send button, the principal's voice cracked from the speakers

-"Miss (Y/N) please come to my office, immediately" - You sighed and got up putting the phone on your pocket, wondering if all the swearing you did when you were alone was heard by someone and they snitched on you and got you in trouble. When you got to the office the principal pointed at the chair in front of him, so you sat down. He was reading a folder with a few pages on it, and after a few seconds of murmuring to himself, he finally spoke-"Yeah... So you are being investigated..."-you frowned in confusion

-"Investigated, for what?" - Your voice came out higher than what you wanted

-"A mom... Linda Throne..."-he started to explain

-"Throne? I know that name..."-you mumble to yourself trying to remember from were

-"...Alleges that you kissed your girlfriend in front of her daughter..."-he continued

-"Oh my god!" - You knew where this was going and you didn't liked it one bit

-"...and in front of a whole class of other high schoolers at the end of school year of 2022"-he took off his glasses

-"Come on! You talked to me about it! It was nothing" - You complained

-"I know. But now she's made a formal complaint, and I have to read this..."-the principal seemed exhausted about it

-"Wait a minute that kid graduated, she is in college now. Why is she doing this now?..." - You were so confused

-"I don't know, why does anybody do anything? Attention? Money?" - He took a sip of his coffee

-"Wait a minute, Linda Throne, I remember that name. That's the mom that complained about the grade system when her kid got and F... And she complained about the books assignments... And..."-You started to remember, she was a piece of work

-"Oh my god" - The principal seemed more frustrated now than before

-"This is insane..."-You rolled your eyes

-"I know, but you did kiss your girlfriend in front of her daughter...This is serious now because she can have proof and help from other parents or students"-he was upset, almost as much as you

-"Come on, it was barely a peck. I'm not even sure if our lips touched... Do you understand? This is homophobia, this is homophobia behavior right here..."-You started to do a lot of hand gestures, angry ones

-"I know, but this is bigger than us now, you can get suspended by this, even loose your teaching license... She has a lot of money and power and she is a pain in the ass" - He got up from his desk- "You didn't hear the last part..."

-"So what do I do? I just wait for my fate to be decided?..."-You were frowning so much that your forehead started to hurt

-"Look, you are a good teacher. I want you to keep your job... You... You could write a statement in defense of your position and I will submit it on your behalf, that's all I can do to help" - He grabbed his suitcase

-"A defense? I'm not writing a statement, this whole thing is bullshit..."-You complained

-"This is not bullshit, you are lucky they are not suspending you right now and they are waiting for a trial" - He tried to make you see the gravity of the situation and you sighed trying to calm down

-"Let me ask you something... Her kid, remember that kid?" - he nodded- "Is she gay now?" - he didn't said anything, he just looked away- "She is in college and she is gay now, right?" -he didn't confirm or denied anything-"Am I right? I am right! She thinks that we turned her kid gay... Oh my god! This is insane..."-You laughed at the situation

-"Please I can not discuss it further with you, my only job was to read that notification to you... Please take the rest of the day off" - He said and insisted on it, so you grabbed your stuff to leave, calling Jacob to let him know that you definitely need a few drinks on your system.

When night time arrived, you got to the bar, finding Jacob and Janine on a table with drinks already waiting for you, the music was almost loud enough to drown your thoughts as you made your way to them, almost enough, but not enough at all...

-"You guys are amazing" - You took two big glups of your drink after saying hi to them, feeling that sweet burn on your throat

-"Oh wow, you weren't kidding when you said you weren't feeling okey..."-Jacob said seeing your glass half empty already.

After a basic chit-chat, they gave you the opportunity to explain everything that happened that day, always exited for any tea that you had to spill, and by the end of it, they were as shocked and mad as you were

-"That's definitely homophobic" - Jacob said and you nodded, already sipping on your third drink

-"I can't believe it, there should be something more that we can do besides writing a paper... What if we get Melissa's help? She is involved in this too, I bet she knows someone that can help, she knows a lot of people..." - Janine comented and you felt pain in your heart when you heard your ex's name

-"You should both go talk to the school board together, you are both involved in this and you are both teachers..."-Jacob also insisted and each minute of thinking about her, your pain grew

-"Yeah,but, first, we are not together anymore, second, she is not being investigated so I won't bring her to this, I could put her on risk of losing her job too. And third, Melissa changed schools to yours a long time ago and we haven't talked ever since..."-You sighed thinking about the redhead, seeing your reflection on your own drink, you seemed so sad thinking about her.

The redhead and you had a beautiful relationship a few years back, when you and her used to work on the same school. She was almost everything that you needed, she was kind, protective, hot, passionate, lovely... It was the perfect relationship if you only ignored the fact that you knew almost nothing about her. You tried to ignore how closed she was, trying to convince yourself that she would open more to you after a time dating. But when weeks became months, and months became a year and you still knew almost the same as when you started dating, you couldn't ignore it anymore.

You tried to talk to her about it, but she always brushed you off saying that she was that way, and there was nothing wrong in having a few secrets. You pressed further after, but nothing changed. You kept trying to make her understand, to make her see that when she didn't opened to you that hurt, "I keep opening up, but it’s like talking to a mirror" ; "How can I connect with someone who won’t let me in?"; was a few of the things you said to her. But she didn't seemed to understand or she didn't wanted to understand.

You even got frustrated and felt guilt, "Maybe I’m asking for too much. Maybe I need to be patient...", you kept repeating yourself.

But you reached a breaking point when you went to a teacher's weekend and a lady came to fight with the redhead out of nowhere, only to find out that it was her sister, a sister that you knew nothing about, not even her name, a sister that she never mentioned.

That night when you got home, you tried to talk once more... You could still remember the conversation almost completely

-“I like you. I really do. But I’m realizing that I’m the only one showing up fully here. I keep trying to get closer, and it’s like... you won’t let me. And maybe that’s where you are in life right now, and I respect that, but I need more than walls and small talk. I need someone who wants to be known.”- where your words between a few tears. And Melissa, instead of being understanding, she got offended

-"Wow. So now I’m the bad guy because I don’t spill my trauma on command? You don’t even know what I’ve been through. Maybe I don’t open up because I’ve learned what happens when I do. Not everyone has the luxury of being emotionally raw all the time. I was showing up the best way I could. Sorry it wasn’t good enough for you"-she said, almost screaming.

You both tried to fix your relationship after that, but no change was made and what she was giving you wasn't enough anymore, and the relationship worn out a few weeks after.

Soon Melissa changed schools and you tried to live your life with the emptiness she left behind, pretending to move on.

-Back to the present on the bar-

By the end of the nigth, when you were more drinks on you that you could count, you took your phone off and opened the app note, planning on writing the statement that you needed

-"To whom it may concern... I (Y/N), I'm being invested for showing apropiated and short love affection to my partner. I pecked my girlfriend on the cheek, perhaps making momentary passing contact with her lips, in front of a class of my students while we were on lunch break. We were a serious relationship at the time, and it is clear to me that this behavior would not be tolerated, but encouraged if a straight couple did the same... "-while you wrote it, Jacob, sitting besides you, read aloud-"Do you think it sounds defensive?" - You asked to your friend, your eyes barely open

-"No! I think you are on the right saying all of that...Will you talk to Mel about it?" - he asked, hopping to trick you while you were drunk to talk to her, planing to be a little cupid if the chance presented

-"I won't... Don't insist or I will punch one of you"-You insisted, seing double by now

-"Okey Okey, I won't... But tell me, what happened that time, did you really kissed in front of them?" - he asked, being as nosey as ever

-"We..."-You closed your eyes, letting your mind go back to the place that you have been avoiding since the moment you broke up with her, the moments when the love overcame the bad things. You could still feel her lips on yours if you focused, the way they perfectly fit with yours and how soft her hands were when she was holding your waist. You still remember that day perfectly, you were on lunch duty, making sure everyone eat at peace, and Mel went to keep you company for a little bit. You were still happy for the morning you had that day before school, she made you breakfast and you end up having a steamy kiss session on the kitchen and on the car... And when she came to keep you company on the launch break, you both kissed before she went back to her classroom, you couldn't avoid to suck her bottom lip into your mouth and the redhead let her hand wonder a little to the back pocket of your jeans, grabbing you closer, squeezing your ass for a very briefly moment before leaving. You sighed remembering her and her perfect lips- "We... We kissed..."-thats all you said, with pain on your chest, missing her more that you wanted to admit.

The night kept going after that but you were too drunk to remember any of it, taking advantage that it was Friday, you kept drinking until you passed out. You couldn't even remember how you got home or who dragged your ass to your bed, you just assumed that it was your friends.

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur, and school started again on Monday. While you kept having anxiety about your situation on your school, just a few blocks away in Abbott Elementary, Janine and Jacob were talking about you and all your problems on the teacher's room. When Mel came in, they shushed up immediately, thing that didn't went unnoticed by the redhead

-"Spill it" - she said, knowing that whatever they were talking about involved her

-"Spill what? We have nothing to spill. Do you have anything to spill?" - Jacob asked Janine, pretending to have dementia

-"Nothing to spill besides my favorite juice that's here on the table" - Janine pretend too, very badly by the way, with a very bad fake laugh at her bad joke. Melissa just stared at them, with a very serious face, and they panicked, folding under no pressure at all after just a minute under the redhead stare-"(Y/N) is under investigation for unproperly behavior, because she kissed you in front of her class on lunch time a few years back, her carrier is on the line and she doesn't want to involve you because she is scared you might get under investigation too and losse your job"-Janine talked so fast that Mel wasn't sure if she heard correctly

-"What?"-Melissa asked confused

-"Please don't make me repeat it" - Janine said and the redhead grabbed her jacket and purse immediately running outside.

-"What do you think she is going to do?" - Jacob asked Janine

-"I don't know, but if (Y/N) asks, we didn't said anything..."-The girl said and her friend nodded.

A week after that, your statement was finally ready and with shaking hands you took it to your principal

-"Here is my statement... I hope it really helps my case..."-You left it on his desk and he looked at you confused

-"What case?..."-he stared at you

-"I'm being investigated...remember?" - You explained and he let a little laugh escaped

-"Oh that! The lady dropped the charges. I forgot to tell you... I'm sorry" - He kept laughing and now it was your chance to stare at him. You have been worrieng sick for a whole week because he forgot to tell you, and he was laughing when it had nothing funny about it?

-"Dropped? Why?..." - You asked, still without understanding

-"I don't know exactly, something about focusing her time on other things that were more important that sue a teacher with minimal wage... Wait, but the district did said something" - He took a paper out to read- "First, you can not date any members of your work place anymore, and second, to avoid any sexual connection you might had formed with any colleagues here to go any further and create another problem, from next month on, you will be transferred to Abbot Elementary to help with the oldest students there... And since you were under investigation, sadly you don't have a saying on this..."-he finished reading and you left the office without saying another word, confused, barely understanding what he said.

When you managed to get your brain working again, you called Jacob to tell him if you could meet him at the bar that night, that you had news to give him, and without any further questions, he agreed.

When night came, you made your way to your usual bar, but after a few minutes of waiting, none of your friends showed up. Worried, you took out your cell phone to call, but before you could even unlock it, someone placed a glass of your favorite drink on the table in front of you, a wave of a perfume filled your nose and a wave of nostalgia flooded your chest, you knew that perfume very well

-"The woman over there sends you this" - a voice said, a voice you could recognized anywhere. You lifted your view to meet those green eyes that you haven't seen in so long, they still shone in the same way and had the same makeup as always, the only difference after all those years was a few more age lines around them. Your brain stop functioning for a few seconds, even forgetting how to breathe, she bit her lip nervously because you didn't said anything-"Hey..."-her voice snapped you to react

-"What woman?" - You asked, playing along for a moment. If you were going to work together again, you at least had to be able to have a basic conversation with her

-"Me, it was a little joke to break the ice... I'm the woman that sends you your favorite drink, who else would know exactly what you like?" - she smiled softly and you frowned. In front of you was the Melissa that you knew, but at the same time she seemed someone different, she looked more relaxed and open, more soft that all those years back. She even seemed nervous around you, not the confident redhead that pretended that nothing could get through her tough skin. Again, because you didn't answer, she forced herself to keep making up conversation -"Thank you for trying to not involve me in that investigation that they were making, that was really sweet of you..." - she said with a soft voice and sat beside you

-" How did you..." - You were about to ask

-"Jacob and Janine told me..." - she confessed ordering a drink for herself and you nodded

-"Of curse they did, I don't know why I was hopping they would keep their mouth shut..." - You took a sip of the drink she ordered for you, it was just the way you loved it

-"I'm glad they didn't tho. I couldn't let you lose your job for something that we were both involved at... It was the fault of both of us..." - she whispered playing with the straw on her hand- "I regret nothing of that by the way... Well almost nothing..."-her voice was weak, almost like if she were on pain

-"What are you talking about?" - You asked in confusion

-"I'm talking about us... I regret loosing that. I know it's too late now, but you were right... I should have let you know more stuff about me... I was just scared and I end up pushing you away" - she looked at your eyes and you sighed, those words that you always wanted to listen were too late now

-"It doesn't matter... We... That was a long time ago, we were not the same back then, it doesn't matter anymore..."-You whispered

-"I know we are different people now... But it's to late for a second chance? Would you like to meet the new me?" - she extended her hand to you and you just stared at her - "I'm Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti. I'm 51 years old" - she mentioned her age, you knew this was serious- "I have 8 siblings, 5 sisters, 2 brothers and one half brother. I love to cook and watch housewifes, also build tiny display puzzles... I..." - You stoped raising your hand

-"I appreciate your effort... But as I said, it doesn't matter anymore..."-You repeated and she gave you a sad smile

-"I know... I just realy regret my past behavior and all I did to you, you didn't deserve any of it... I just thought that if I fixed the problem with the mom that made that complaint, I would be able to fix some of the damage I did on the past..."-she seemed really sad and you felt pain in your heart for seeing her like that

-"What do mean by fixing the problem with the mom that made the complaint? That was you?" - You asked surprised

-"Yeah... I couldn't forgive myself if, because of me, you end up hurt again... So I payed a little visit to that mom and convinced her to drop all the charges after a friendly conversation..."-she played with the straw on her drink again. You knew that by friendly she must have dig out some dirt on the mom and used against her to make her drop the charges, but still was a sweet move

-"That was you?... And my transfer is also your doing?"-You asked further

-"What transfer?" - now was her time to see confused

-"They ask me to transfer to Abbott..."-You whispered and she smiled with surprise

-"Really? Oh wow... I promise it wasn't me, I wasn't even expecting that to come out of your mouth... It will almost be like old times... You and me in the same school..." - she whispered the last part very happily

-"No, it won't. This time, you and me are just coworkers...there is no 'we' this time..."-You clarify and she nodded

-"I know... I'm sorry... I'm just happy that you get to keep your job..."-she smiled softly-"By the way... Who invited you to the bar? We have been talking a while now and noone seem to be looking for you...-she made an observation and you remember the phone on your hand

-"Jacob did... I was about to call him when you arrived..."-You finally dialed the number and after a few rings your friend picked it up

-"Hey! I was about to call to let you know that I'm sick and I can't go..."-he was lying, you could even tell through the call, specially when he faked a cough-"I'm so sorry... Raincheck?" - he asked and you sighed turning to the redhead, covering the mic of the phone for a second

- "Who invited you here?" - You asked her

-"That's what I was about to tell you, Jacob invited me too, is he okey?" - Melissa asked and you rolled your eyes, a few pieces clicking into place now. Jacob knew that Melissa defended your ass so you could keep your job, and being the cupid that he always tried to be, he invited you both to that bar so you had no other chance to talk, hopping that what Mel had done to help you, was enough to forgive her. You put the phone on your ear again-"I'm with Melissa..." - You heard an exited little scream behind Jacob, confirming all your suspicious about them making a plan-"We hope that you get better soon, because next time I see you, I will kick both of your ass" - You said to your friend, hearing two different kind of screams on the phone, being pretty sure that Janine was with him too, playing cupid together.

[thosesillylittlegayghosts]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEYRE USING AI TO CREATE COURTROOM FOOTAGE FROM TRANSCRIPTS

[shadow-redferne]

I wanna talk briefly about the AI debate because some of the takes I've seen are very much pissing me off, especially since most of those takes aren't helpful at all (and some are just straight up bullying). I already posted about this on my other blog (post in question has since been deleted since it was kinda harsh and ngl very dismissive of very valid concerns!), but the biggest issue I have with the Anti-AI crowd (And, to be honest, the AI debate in general) is that it feels like they're getting mad at the wrong things. No, AI itself is not the problem. No, someone calling themself an "AI artist" is not the problem. No, using AI for fun is not the problem. No, partaking in some AI trend is not the problem. No, someone simply generating AI images is not the problem. The actual problem is: -People feeding other people's art into AI generators and then claiming it as their own (Scraping basically) -People putting other people's writing into AI chatbots/AI text generators (ex. ChatGPT) to "finish" the fic (Again, scraping). -People using AI to make eerily realistic Not SFW deepfakes of either people they know or celebrities. -Corporations and companies screwing over artists, musicians and actors in favor of AI (such as replacing them). -People using AI to make racist/queerphobic/misogynistic/ otherwise bigoted stuff (Something that I've also been seeing unfortunately) -People not being honest about using AI (Transparency, people!) -People using AI to mimic other people's voices without those people's consent (not sure how to word this but i'm sure some of you know what I mean). -The fact that there's almost no regulations when it comes to AI. AI gets a lot of criticism, and it should! Until it becomes more ethical and there's regulations imposed, we should still be skeptical of it. However, I feel like we've gone very off track when it comes to criticizing AI. Personally, I don't think someone posting an AI-generated image of an elf with wings surrounded by mushrooms and rainbows makes them a thief by itself.. But if they made that image using someone else's art, then in that case yes they are a thief! And no, someone partaking in the Pixar AI trend is probably not going to cost you your job. You know what will cost you your job though? Companies favoring AI over actual living beings. So maybe instead of getting mad at someone using Character.AI or posting an AI-generated gothic phoenix, how about we get mad at corporations screwing artists/actors/musicians over and the people using AI with genuine malicious intent?

(Image ID: A banner that is blue with flowers framing it. The text reads "OP is a minor. Please respect my boundaries" End ID)

[polysucks]

so who's gonna man the study of how the english language is utilized in creative writing and communication based on the overuse of specific words and framing and contexts noticed as overwhelmingly overused in shameless AI writing in 50 years?

[ech0light]

JUST WATCHED THE LAST 2 EPISODES OF PERSONS OF INTEREST SEASON 2 HAS ANYONE ELSE SEEN THIS SHIT PLEASE

[feminist-space]

"Balaji’s death comes three months after he publicly accused OpenAI of violating U.S. copyright law while developing ChatGPT, a generative artificial intelligence program that has become a moneymaking sensation used by hundreds of millions of people across the world.

Its public release in late 2022 spurred a torrent of lawsuits against OpenAI from authors, computer programmers and journalists, who say the company illegally stole their copyrighted material to train its program and elevate its value past $150 billion.

The Mercury News and seven sister news outlets are among several newspapers, including the New York Times, to sue OpenAI in the past year.

In an interview with the New York Times published Oct. 23, Balaji argued OpenAI was harming businesses and entrepreneurs whose data were used to train ChatGPT.

“If you believe what I believe, you have to just leave the company,” he told the outlet, adding that “this is not a sustainable model for the internet ecosystem as a whole.”

Balaji grew up in Cupertino before attending UC Berkeley to study computer science. It was then he became a believer in the potential benefits that artificial intelligence could offer society, including its ability to cure diseases and stop aging, the Times reported. “I thought we could invent some kind of scientist that could help solve them,” he told the newspaper.

But his outlook began to sour in 2022, two years after joining OpenAI as a researcher. He grew particularly concerned about his assignment of gathering data from the internet for the company’s GPT-4 program, which analyzed text from nearly the entire internet to train its artificial intelligence program, the news outlet reported.

The practice, he told the Times, ran afoul of the country’s “fair use” laws governing how people can use previously published work. In late October, he posted an analysis on his personal website arguing that point.

No known factors “seem to weigh in favor of ChatGPT being a fair use of its training data,” Balaji wrote. “That being said, none of the arguments here are fundamentally specific to ChatGPT either, and similar arguments could be made for many generative AI products in a wide variety of domains.”

Reached by this news agency, Balaji’s mother requested privacy while grieving the death of her son.

In a Nov. 18 letter filed in federal court, attorneys for The New York Times named Balaji as someone who had “unique and relevant documents” that would support their case against OpenAI. He was among at least 12 people — many of them past or present OpenAI employees — the newspaper had named in court filings as having material helpful to their case, ahead of depositions."

[yzegem]

Sirens of Encounters in the Frontier.

In my setting, sirens are a kind of shark, descendants of a creature most similar to an epaulette shark, wich adapted to hunt fish and mollusks trapped during the low tide and eventually evolved to be fully lunged and mostly amphibian.

There are 3 species of sirens, all 6 limbed.

-The continental mernewt is native to the vast beaches and coral reefs of the southeastern coast of the continent. It's similar in bodyplan to a mudskipper and just as agile. They have jaws strong enough to open shellfish and don a venomous spur next to their tail fin, wich can kill small animals and cause pain, swelling and even necrosis of the limbs in larger animals like humans.

Male mernewts are known to "fence" each other as they are very territorial during mating season. This fights envolve leaps into the air, stabbing with their spurs, biting and their characteristic shriek.

These animals are very important in the culture of the warrior caste in the Sun Empire and represent masculine violence and war, sometimes positively (they are kept in artificial ponds ocasionally) or as a critique in poetry of the futility of war, since the mernewts are vulnerable to birds of prey or other predators while exhausted after a fight.

-The lesser siren is the most terrestrial of all sirens. Its native to the eastern and southern coast of the continent, the north of alwaysummer and the Twisted Islands.

These creatures feed mostly on fish stranded during low tides but many hunt seabirds by staying still between rocks in the shore until the perfect ocasion to leap and catch its prey with their clawed pectoral fins. They usually drag their prey to the water and drown it there. They are very capable of climbing rocks and can be quite fast in short bursts of speed.

They can get quite large and pose a significant danger to some cattle and humans.

-Sirens are native to the Twisted Islands and are the most aquatic of the three, even though they can still return to the sea if they get stranded.

They spend most of the day in underwater caves and are actually quite good at hunting in the sea floor, as they use their long arm like pectoral fins to move rocks and expose mollusks and other small prey. Still, their prey of choice are terrestrial animals. Sirens are indeed quite intelligent animals, though far from sapient, as they resemble the intelect of a marine crocodile, wich manifests in very specialiced hunting tactics.

They have learned to attract land animals close enough to the water by leaving small pieces of fish in the shore as bait for seabirds or imitating animal cries for help to attract unsuspecting predators or worried members of the imitated species. When they get the chance, they rapidly extend their arm-like fins and drag the animal to the sea.

Some sirens have specialiced in hunting humans, specially those on boats, wich is a big problem given how common reed boats and low canoes are for transport in the twisted islands, often used to also transport cattle.

Sirens can easily climb on top of these boats or colaborate between many to topple a ship.

They don't hunt in organized groups, rather they all hunt individually but at the same time, if that makes sense, and later fight for the prey.

These human eating sirens have learn to stand on small islands or unlit shores ar night and waive their arm-like fins while screaming (they can imitate a great variety of sounds) to lure humans closer to them.

The Iliryi people (those native of the twisted islands) have developed many methods to sail safely, such as covering their boats with down facing spikes, tying themselves to the boat or just carrying harpoons and being ready for action. Still, these tactics are not very efective when overwhelmed by a large group of sirens.

The government of the twisted islands hires whalers and fishermen from all across the eastern sea during their low season to work as sirens hunters, wich escort other ships and keep the siren population at bay. This is a high risk high reward job for these fishermen.

[fuck-customers]

(half rant half story)

I'm a physicist. I work for a company that helps develop car parts. Essentially, car companies come to us with ideas on what they want from a part or material, and we make/test the idea or help them make/test it. Usually this means talking to other scientists and engineers and experts and it's all fine. Sometimes this means talking to businesspeople and board execs and I hate them

A bit ago when AI was really taking off in the zeitgeist I went to a meeting to talk about some tweaks Car Company A wanted to make to their hydraulics- specifically the master cylinder, but it doesn't super matter. I thought I'd be talking to their engineers - it ends up being just me, their head supervisor (who was not a scientist/engineer) and one of their executives from a different area (also not a scientist/engineer). I'm the only one in the room who actually knows how a car works, and also the lowest-level employee, and also aware that these people will give feedback to my boss based on how I 'represent the company ' whilst I'm here.

I start to explain my way through how I can make some of the changes they want - trying to do so in a way they'll understand - when Head Supervisor cuts me off and starts talking about AI. I'm like "oh well AI is often integrated into the software for a car but we're talking hardware right now, so that's not something we really ca-"

"Can you add artificial intelligence to the hydraulics?"

"..sorry, what was that?"

"Can you add AI to the hydraulics system?"

can i fucking what mate "Sir, I'm sorry, I'm a little confused - what do you mean by adding AI to the hydraulics?"

"I just thought this stuff could run smoother if you added AI to it. Most things do"

The part of the car that moves when you push the acceleration pedal is metal and liquid my dude what are you talking about "You want me to .add AI...to the pistons? To the master cylinder?"

"Yeah exactly, if you add AI to the bit that makes the pistons work, it should work better, right?"

IT'S METAL PIPES it's metal pipes it's metal pipes "Sir, there isn't any software in that part of the car"

"I know, but it's artificial intelligence, I'm sure there's a way to add it"

im exploding you with my mind you cannot seriously be asking me to add AI to a section of car that has as much fucking code attached to it as a SOCK what do you MEAN. The most complicated part of this thing is a SPRING you can't be serious

He was seriously asking. I've met my fair share of idiots but I was sure he wasn't genuinely seriously asking that I add AI directly to a piston system, but he was. And not even in the like "oh if we implement a way for AI to control that part" kind of way, he just vaguely thought that AI would "make it better" WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEANNNNN I HAD TO SPEND 20 MINUTES OF MY HARD EARNED LIFE EXPLAINING THAT NEITHER I NOR ANYONE ELSE CAN ADD AI TO A GOD DAMNED FUCKING PISTON. "CAN YOU ADD AI TO THE HYDRAULICS" NO BUT EVEN WITHOUT IT THAT METAL PIPE IS MORE INTELLIGENT THAN YOU

Posted by admin Rodney.

[mv1simp]

Often ♥️

Mafia!Max Verstappen x Reader

she asked me if I do this everyday, I said often (asked her how many times she rode the wave, not so often)

You’re a hard working, intelligent medical student - at the top of her class. Desperate to pay off your debts, you end up bartending in Monaco’s most exclusive nightclub….and catch the eye of the mafia boss who runs half the city, Max Verstappen. And now that he’s found you, he’s never letting you go.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub themes, dark mafia!max, innocent student! reader tryna pay her bills, sugar daddy vibes, BDSM, WC 5.6k

It had truly meant to be a one time thing. You’d been strapped for cash, as per usual - stretching yourself thin with your overpriced rent in your tiny one bedroom apartment in a dodgy area, with your utility bills, your parent’s monthly mortgage payments. And of course, the costliest expense of all was your goddamn medical degree. You were in your final year, so close to the end that you could almost taste it.

Maybe that’s what made you say yes to one of the other tutors you work with at your university tutoring job, when she sees you at your second job later than evening tidying up at a local clinic, and then your third the next morning where you hand her a fresh iced coffee you’ve brewed. You know, she says in a hushed tone, leaning in rather conspiratorially. You’re going to work yourself to the bone, with three jobs and putting yourself through med school?

You wave her off with a practised cheerful smile, used to hiding your tiredness from your peers who all thought of you as a model student. But when she persisted, texting you the details of her mysterious cousin who worked at some bar downtown and earned one thousands dollars in a single night…you couldn’t help but being intrigued. You were cautious about it, of course, asking to meet the cousin - Layla - at the coffee shop you worked at. And when she told you about the VIP club, JimmyZ, that she worked at - nothing like those sleazy stripclubs downtown, she hastily reassured, seeing the nervous look on your face. No, JimmyZ was an exclusive club, only for the rich and elite who enjoyed throwing stacks of cash for bags of cocaine and exotic dancers. That’s what Layla called herself, but you still privately think it’s a glorified term for a stripper, as you watch her on stage from your corner in the bar with mixed feelings of awe at how sexy she looks, and discomfort from the sleazy gazes on her.

You’d somehow been talked into helping bartend for a night, Layla having mentioned that you were the perfect girl for the kind of men who came to JimmyZ. At your insulted expression, she giggled, saying that she was trying to saw you had an angelic, natural beauty about you, exactly the kind of authenticity the clientele liked to see instead of the more artificial look found at cheaper clubs. You looked at her skeptically, but still ended up lured in to try and make your rent that month. And after your first night, where you noted impressive amounts of security protecting the gorgeous dancing girls on stage, you felt yourself seduced by the offer of a single night at JimmyZ making up for an entire weeks of your previous job’s earning.

So before you knew it, you’d been working steadily for a couple of months now, finding yourself at a familiar ease behind the bar as you expertly poured drinks and humming the sensual music. You loved the job, with its high pay meaning you had time to focus on your studies again, and last month you’d even topped your class in one of your exams! Of course, it came with its risks - you worked well through the middle of busy weekend nights, many curious and lustful gazes on you from men who enjoyed the skimpy bartender uniform you had to wear. A tight, low cut white button up shirt that showed off your cleavage, and a miniskirt that came dangerously close to flashing someone when you bent over, paired with heeled knee high boots. It was certainly not the type of usual thing you wore, with your conservative full sleeve tops and flattering jeans with scuffed converse that you recycled constantly given your tight budget. But after some adjusting of your long curls hiding your cleavage and avoiding any eye contact skittishly with any man who looked at you too closely, you found yourself falling into an easy rhythm at work.

Until one evening, a Friday night before some big racing event in the city, meaning the club was even more packed that usual with clubgoers overflowing out the entrance and bass thumping down the street. Your boss had found you as you checked in for your late night shift, rapidly saying something about how the owner was visiting tonight and there weren't enough girls for the show, could you help out just this once-

Despite your adamant protests and squeaks that you absolutely could not, would not go on stage, you find yourself shoved into the backstage room to get ready, or risk losing your job permanently, your boss says meanly before storming off. Your lip trembles in anxiety, at the thought of someone recognising you tonight and then seeing you working as a doctor after your graduated. You'd lose your reputation before you could even start your career. You feel lost in the bright makeup room, surrounded by stunning, slim women who had their hair blown own perfectly and makeup done to perfection. You never imagined that you'd have to be up on stage with the beautiful dancers, who you looked so plain standing next too. A few toss you sympathetic looks but are too busy getting ready themselves to help you - until Layla enters and catches sight of your shaking form. She scowls when you tearfully tell her what the boss had said, but gives you a firm pep talk as she quickly helps you get ready. You've barely used any of the dozens of makeup products she has open on the counter, never having had any money to spend on nice clothes or jewellery to spoil yourself with.

But you feel yourself start to settle as she hands you a shot of tequila, then another for confidence, as she guides you through how to navigate the stage, how it was all about faking it till you make it!

You nod determinedly as she coaches you, before quickly getting change into a glittery strappy piece of fabric she hands you, with strappy heels to match. It takes you a few minutes to adjust to the height, but you find yourself being able to walk comfortably in them. When you come out from the side room to show Layla, the rest of the girls in the room stop in their tracks and look at you with renewed interest, yelling out whoops of encouragements about how hot you looked, girl! You flush with the praise, eyeing yourself in the mirror every few minutes as this pretty girl you didn't recognise stared at you. With lush, long curls styled messily, and wide, doe eyed eyes framed in smoky liner and glittery eyeshadow, and full, pouty glossed lips. And your body, which you'd been feeling so insecure about compared to the other dancers, looked undeniably sexy in a shimmery gold minidress that was so short it showed off the swell of your thick ass and chubby thighs invitingly. See, Layla says rather smugly as she comes up behind you. I told you, face of an angel with a body of a dancer. The audience is going to go feral for you.

And she was right, when an hour later and another practise session later, this time with the aid of the other dancers as they critiqued your form, you find yourself on one of the three stages the club had throughout its two levels. If there’s one thing you pride yourself on, it’s being a quick learner. You relax, letting yourself get lost in the music as a sensual song by The Weeknd croons over the speakers. The other girls had told you that dancing could also be fun, empowering, and make you feel in control - and you know understood what they meant as you sway your body enticingly on the stage, running your hands across your tits where your cleavage shows through the low neckline. At least in a club like JimmyZ, which had the reputation of luxury and class to uphold, the dancers wore skimpy outfits but never got fully naked like at a proper stripclub. You made full use of this small mercy, giving teasing flashes of your cleavage and ass but never actually taking your tiny glittery dress off. You could feel dozens of eyes fixed on every movement you made, every toss of your curls, every breathy sigh and bounce of your ass as you let yourself get lost in the beat.

But there's one set of piercing blue eyes that you keep finding your wide eyes returning to curiously. A man you’ve never seen before is seated in one of the VIP lounges a level above and directly in front of your elevated stage. He’s tall and muscular, with messy blonde hair and the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen. And to pull it off, he’s lounging comfortable on a leather sofa, well dressed in a fitted white shirt and jeans, his intense gaze roaming over your dancing body while everyone around him was standing up and hollering towards the dancers on the stage.

He looked like a lion amongst the pack of sheep, and you couldn’t help but bat your lashes in his direction just a bit more as a spark of attraction flutters within you. You've never felt so desirable in your life, and the rush it gives you is addictive. Your show is over before you know it, with enthused yells and demands for an Encore! from the frenzied crowd around your stage as clubgoers migrated to see your show instead of the two others. You giggle coyly, finding this new, confident side of yourself so much more fun than your usual run down, shy one. Stacks of paper notes have been tossed up on your stage and the bouncers dutifully collect it up to bring to you backstage. You blow a kiss into the air for the crowd, but your eyes don’t leave the gorgeous mystery man’s when you do so.

Afterwards, the other girls are laughing and excitedly hugging you backstage, oohing over the stacks of money you’d made and saying you needed to start dancing as a regular at the club, you’d instantly become a favourite! As you giggled their encouragement off, the mood suddenly soured when your boss strode in and said there’s been a request for a private show.

This was the darker, naughtier side of JimmyZ - only offered to the filthy rich VIP clients who could afford the outrageous hourly rate for the prized, beautiful dancers at the club. You’d walked past the closed VIP lounge doors before, your face turning red from the excited moans of male and female pleasure and lewd sounds. It was highly secret, of course, so you’d never known to much about what it fully involved. But you’d have to get to know it tonight, when your boss's finger points past everyone to land on you, to say the request is for our latest dancer, who’s been hiding how much of a natural she is!

Your quickly shake your head, saying you weren’t comfortable with anything more - but your boss says you might want to hear how much he's offering to pay, first. I turned him down, too, saying you weren't one of the regular dancers...but he's very certain he can make it worth your while. When you hear the figure being offered, specifically just for you, your jaw drops. It's enough to pay your shitty rent for two whole months.

You still feel uneasy, because dancing was one thing but to go to a private room was another, and you weren't sure how you felt about using your body for money. In the end, you find yourself curious to go, to get that addictive feeling of desirability and swayed by the security of the income. You’re fully in control, Layla reassures, there’s security in the room the whole time if the client gets touchy. You just have to undress a bit, down to your underwear and give them a show, maybe a lap dance or two. Nothing more than a quick handjob at most, she insists. Then, seeing your face go red as you stammer in response, she pauses to ask that you had done that before, right?

You nod your head quickly, saying yes, of course, I'm 23! You’re too embarrassed to tell her that even though you’re in college, you’ve barely had any sexual experiences and have never had a boyfriend. There was never any time with all the jobs you worked and your full time degree. You’ve had quick, forgettable and sloppy drunk hookups, with uncomfortable fingering that didn’t make you cum or half hearted handjobs at frat parties. You’ve never had sex before, but you know there’s no point freaking out about that now when you’re commited to getting paid tonight. Besides, it was just a quick lap dance probably on some middle aged divorced guy, right?

You can do this, you tell yourself internally, this was nothing compared to dancing in front of hundred of strangers. Maybe this month you’d finally be able to buy some nice dresses and heels to treat yourself with. It can feel good, too Layla had added as she helped you touch up your lip gloss. For your own pleasure, I mean. If you let it, she says with a wink. Remember, you're in control!

When you finally enter the VIP room that night, you're shocked at the man who awaits you. Because it was certainly no sleazy middle aged man. The gorgeous blue eyed blonde from earlier looks up from his conversation at you, his lips quirking up as he sees your golden minidress sparkle in the dim light. You’re too caught off guard to move, but once he dismissed the other men he was talking to with a tilt of his hand, he beckons you over. With a backwards glance to make sure the bouncer stands guard at the door, you take a seat on the comfortable sofa next to him.

It turns out the mystery man isn't just handsome, but friendly, and funny too, with an infectious laugh that makes your heart race. He introduced himself as Max, in a delicious low Dutch accent, and offers you a drink. You politely decline, not wanting to be too disinhibited, but he pours you a glass of expensive whiskey to match the one in his hand anyways. When he asks you for your name, you give him a fake one - but his eyes darken as he tells you he doesn’t think you’re telling him the truth. I’ll call you whatever I want, then, he hums. Schatje seems very fitting for an angel like you. I hope you don’t mind that I asked to see you personally tonight. But the way you danced, I was completely entranced. And then when I saw your pretty face, these big doe eyes...well, I knew I had to meet you. No matter the cost.

You flush under the compliment from such an attractive man, now comfortably sipping on your whiskey. You're the one who's meant to be pleasing him, but it seemed he was more focused on your pleasure. He relaxes you into a surprisingly easy conversation, making you laugh with funny stories about his two house cats. How cute, you say wistfully when he shows you his saved album on his phone. You miss the way his icy eyes hungrily glance down your tempting neckline as you admire the photos, taking advantage of the angle. The tension eases from your stiff form and soon you find yourself leaning in closer to the tall, muscular blonde.

You’re a very charming talker, Max, you say coyly, your newfound confidence emerging as your attraction for him grows. I think you’ve earned your reward. He smirks as you easily climb onto his broad lap, gasping slightly from the feeling of his strong, muscular thighs beneath your soft ones. Soon you’re performing your little routine, giggling and tossing your hair, running wandering hands over yourself, squeezing your juicy tits so they popped in your small hands and make Max’s gaze narrow with desire. Layla had been right. You did feel in complete control, and your pussy throbbed in interest at the gorgeous man whose lap you sat on.

He leans back to appreciate the view and you feel lust cloud your senses from the addicting feeling of those heated blue eyes on you, mixing with the heady feeling from the expensive whiskey he’d offered. And then his fingers are skimming your waist, sending electric sparks shooting from the lightest of touches. You’re not supposed to touch, Max you say with a teasing voice, your playful smile giving away how you really felt. When you untie your dress straps, letting it fall down your waist to show him your chest, barely covered in a see through lacy bra, he lets out a low groan. C’mon, schat, he murmurs huskily. I’m meant to see the prettiest tits in my life and not even kiss them?

You giggle again, running small hands down his shirt as you slowly unbutton him to reveal a muscular, broad chest. He smirks as he watches you bite your lip as your eyes wander all the way down to his blonde happy trail, where your curious fingers have now stopped. What’s the matter, baby, he teases a little twistedly, because he knows exactly what’s stopping you. Never done this before?

You flush, but shake your head adamantly and denying his claim. Of course I have, you say with a defiant look, the competitive nature rising up as you continue to unzip his jeans. He finds your determination so cute, how hard you’re trying to please him, but you give your innocence away with a sudden gasp when his erect cock jumps out of his boxers to rest against his lower abs. It’s so big, you say with a tinge of nerves in your voice at the sight of his drooling, angry red rip. He distracts you with soft kisses to your neck, your cheeks before pressing his lips gently to yours. You can’t resist him either, leaning back in to recapture him in a deeper kiss as you two begin sloppily making out. It’s starting to feel so good, the way his skilled tongue explores your willing mouth, that you eagerly nod when he murmurs he’ll show you how to make him feel good, yeah?

And when his large hand takes yours and presses it right in between his large, spread thighs, he captures your gasps with his lips. He guides your trembling hands over his huge cock, one hand encircling both your palms around him, whispering naughty things in your ear. There you go, sweetheart, right from the tip and then down to the base in a twist, just like that. When you get confident and cutely spit a small glob on his shaft to start pumping him more furiously, he praises you even more. Fuck, you’re a natural, just perfect for me.

You blush under the praise, and together you both watch his cock swell even more with your dedicated handjob. He can’t resist giving you a deep kiss again as he sees the concentrated expression on your face. Doing so good for me, babygirl, Max murmurs as he breaks away for a second, admiring your swollen lips and dazed eyes. Here, let me make you feel good too, hmm?

You squeal in shock as his lips latch right onto your already hard nipples. Ma-Max! No touching, remember! You try to remind him breathlessly. He swirls his tongue around your areolas, one hand still guiding you to jerk him off and his other expertly squeezing and massaging your heaving tits. You very quickly find yourself distracted from his rule break as he spoils your sensitive nipples with attention. So distracted that you stop your handjob, making him pull away again and you whine from the loss of his talented tongue. He resists smirking as you practically push your jiggling tits in his face, your doe eyes begging him for more. I didn’t say you could stop jerking me off, baby, he says in mock disapproval. If you’re not going to be a good girl then you’ll have to say sorry some other way.

You tilt your head in confusion at his statement, when his strong hand tangles into your pretty curls and gently but firmly pushes your head down. Your eyes widen as you realise what he’s asking of you, and you stammer and try to weakly protest. It’s not that you aren’t into this; if anything, Max is the first guy you’ve ever felt such instant chemistry with. No - it’s that this feels so fast, too much too quick for your inexperience and self consciousness. You haven’t even processed just how far he’s planning on taking this and that technically you were selling yourself at some nightclub for his money. Besides, wasn’t there meant to be a guard here to stop the clients going too far? But when you quickly turn your head to look, Max’s hand relaxing briefly to let you peer around, you find yourself only becoming more anxious.

Because there’s no one else in the room.

Where did he go, you say, confused. I don’t understand, I thought he has to keep watch-Schatje, Max murmurs smoothly into your ear. I’m a possessive man. Did you really think I was going to let anyone else get a glimpse of what’s underneath your pretty dress? You gasp, heartbeat now fluttering rapidly from the confession that he’d been so taken with you with one look he wanted you all to himself. You’re half terrified of how much power this man seems to have, and half dizzy with pleasure that he finds you so desirable that he wants to stake his claim. He takes his time working you up again, running hands that were more like a lion’s large paws over your curves while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, asking if you were ready to be a good girl for him.

A thought plants in your head then, as you nod obediently, and he presses a kiss to your curls to lower your head into his lap again. That Max wasn’t the sweet, gorgeous guy next door type he looked to be. No, this was someone with serious power and money, who apparently controlled the ins and outs of the most luxurious nightclub in the city as if it was his own. And tonight, for whatever reason, he wanted you.

It was just one night, right? You let yourself relax and get lost in the unfamiliar pleasure as you reassure yourself.

This time, your glossy pink lips part easily as you leave curious kitten licks to his cockhead, taking in the salty taste of his precum. He immediately groaned, head tilting back against the sofa as he rasped at you to stop teasing.

You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft as you press wet kisses down it. You’re obediently following all the orders he gives to you as he strokes your hair almost gently, licking him up and down. When you finally take him into your mouth, he moans your name in approval, praising how good you were being. But you can barely take half of his length, already feeling your mouth stretch and struggling to breath. Let me take over, baby he says with a dark smirk, and within a second he’s lifted you up and deposited you on the floor, in between his spread legs. You’re trapped by muscular thighs as his grip tightens on you, and then he’s thrusting his hips right to the back of your throat. Fuck yes, there you go, just like that sweetheart, he encourages with a low groan, drowning out your high pitched whines with his jackhammering movements. Mmmh! Obscene, wet sounds of your mouth drooling all over him fills the air, as you choke on the largest cock you’d ever seen. You’re gripping onto him for dear life, your teary eyes making mascara run down your cheeks and only making him more turned on as he ruins your innocent, doe eyed look. And when he cums you don’t expect it, your mouth flooded with unfamiliar white cream that he covers your chubby, blushing cheeks and bouncing tits with as he pulls out mid release and makes a complete mess of your pretty makeup. Heavy pants fill the air as he comes down from his high, looking down at you with raw desire and approval. His thumb swipes his cum off your pouty lips and slides into your lips, smirking when you obediently suck on his finger. You wouldn’t have been able to tell it’s your first time, he teases.

After you clean yourself up in the private bathroom, too embarrassed to look at your positively debauched appearance in the mirror, you find Max signing a cheque that he folds in half that he discreetly leaves on the table. But before he leaves after apologising as he has business to attend to, bending down to your petite frame to give you a sweet kiss, he offers you a deal. To quit your job and be his private dancer, every night…and in turn he’d spoil you with whatever money or gifts your heart desired.

You decline, of course, telling him this was just a one time thing, you weren’t planning on dancing here ever again. He smirks, giving you a final appreciate once over, before declaring that was obvious, he wasn’t going to let another man see you dance like that again.

You don’t see him for a few weeks after that, and it’s almost as if that electric night had never happened at all. Things go back to normal and you resume your bartending job - although you notice that there is significantly more security hovering around your counter than before. But every night Max revisits you in your dreams, making you breathlessly moan from the memory of how good his tongue and hands felt on you, how they might feel inside you next time….you’d always wake up with damp panties.

And then one night everything changes, when a rowdy patron manages to get past the security guards and leer in your face. He remembers you from the dance show and when you try to move away he grabs onto your ass, telling you he wants another sexy performance, he demands with a pervy sneer, I know you secretly liked all the attention, like a slut.

The guards manage to get him off you but you’re shaken with how persistent the man had been. So shaken that you don’t realise the staff have pulled you into a side room until Max is in front of you, asking if you were okay with an intense gaze. He offers you his promise again, to provide for you and protect you - if you became his.

You’re annoyed with him, for just barging in and acting like you were some damsel. You hotly tell him that you're an independent girl, who wasn't going to let him have her in exchange for safety. I can take care of myself! He watched you walk off with a dark gaze, his blue eyes roaming your curves that he was desperate to get underneath him. And whatever Max Verstappen wanted, he always got.

The very next day chills run through your blood as the rowdy patron somehow turns up at your university campus. You quickly hide before he sees you, heart rate spiking as you realise he's found out who you are. Your pride melts away as you dial the number Max's men had put onto your phone despite your protests. Now, you're thankful that they did as a husky Dutch accent picks up. You're a mess on the call, crying and asking Max to please come and help-

I'm on my way, schatje. Go hide somewhere safe. After you hang up you realize you never told him where you were. But it doesn't matter, because the Dutch Lion is there within minutes, stepping out of a sleek black Aston Martin that looks like it costs more than all 5 years of your student debt. Your stalker doesn't stand a chance as he's pushed into a back alley easily by Max, who re-emerges a few moments later discreetly tucking what you're pretty sure is a handgun into his belt. You stare in stunned silence as he gestures to some men who have appeared to clean up whatever mess he left behind, before guiding you with a firm hand on your lower back into his luxurious car.

Still want to turn down what I can offer you, schatje? he murmurs lowly as he smoothly drives you home, his large hand resting on your thigh. And you realise that you don't, because for the first time in your life you don't have to fight tooth and nail to protect yourself. No - because Max had just proved he was willing to do that for you.

So you let yourself be worshipped, be cared for by him. And he knew how skittish you got, and started with baby steps - paying your phone bills, your groceries, and then your rent. Buying whatever handbag or necklace you would happen to briefly admire when walking past a shop, getting you a cute but outrageously expensive car so you stopped taking the train. And you can't lie about how good it feels to walk into class wearing diamond earrings and the Louboutin heels you'd always wanted, to have your mean classmates look at you in awe and envy.

And so when Max insisted that he couldn't let you stay at the dump you called a home any longer, that it was just unsafe for a sweet, precious thing like yourself - you barely resisted and moved into his spacious penthouse apartment. Truly, he gave you whatever you wanted, his toy that he spoils and lavishes however she likes - and at night, lets him climb into her bed to fuck however he wants. And oh, did he fuck you good. It became a habit for you to greet him after his late night meetings with a sweet kiss on the cheek and a gin on the rocks in your hand - which he would drink with you sitting on his lap, telling him animatedly about your day. And of course, he’d get to unwrap his present when he pulls off your silk nightie and widens his legs for you to kneel between them. Dressed in pretty pastel scraps of French lace you buy with his credit card, you’re dutifully slurping and kissing his thick, swollen cock and slapping it against your cheeks. You knew how much Max loved seeing his cum drip down your face and you’d make sure to wear extra eyeliner and lipgloss so he could enjoy the sight of you utterly ruined for him, stroking your mascara tear stained cheeks as you choke on his length. Such a fast learner, schatje Max chuckles at you, stroking your hair almost lovingly but the roughness of his thrusts anything but.

And most of all, you loved when Max would pick you up from class and casually announce that he was taking you away for the weekend. You’d been confused at first, stressed about the study time you were missing out on, but once you sit down in his private jet with you laptop and textbooks in hand you realise you’re truly going to be taken care of in every way. It’s impossible to resist the urge to give back the same to Max, to show him just how much affection you’ve started growing for him. So on those nights in some tropical island resort, with the breeze blowing in through open doors, you give him a free use pass. Whatever he wanted, however he wanted it - all weekend long. It’s to no surprise that you’re chained to the headboard within the hour, thighs tightly tied up around your waist so you’re spread open for him and he could see the wetness dripping through your lace thong. You’re whining, so embarrassed by how intently his heated gaze roams over your body that it’s a relief when he blindfolds you with his tie, and clips a collar around your neck with his initials gleaming from it. He teases you mercilessly, taking you right to the edge with his fingers or tongue but stopping just before you cum, until you’re screaming his name and begging him to fuck you already. And then he takes you for so many rounds that you’re crying for him to stop, it’s too much Maxie, you can’t cum a fourth time-

It’s safe to say you’ve grown into your place by Max’s side very well. You knew what others thought, from the jealous looks from your classmates when his Aston Martin rolls onto campus or the judgemental stares from other vacationers when you obediently sit in Max’s lap while he takes his business calls, dressed in a skimpy bikini and his collar that he absentmindedly traces before moving down to possessively curl his hand on your hip. But you couldn’t care less if they thought you were a trophy girlfriend or a sugar baby - because after all, he was the one wrapped around your pretty little finger, ready to wage a war if you so much as shed a tear.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[river-taxbird]

There is no such thing as AI.

How to help the non technical and less online people in your life navigate the latest techbro grift.

I've seen other people say stuff to this effect but it's worth reiterating. Today in class, my professor was talking about a news article where a celebrity's likeness was used in an ai image without their permission. Then she mentioned a guest lecture about how AI is going to help finance professionals. Then I pointed out, those two things aren't really related.

The term AI is being used to obfuscate details about multiple semi-related technologies.

Traditionally in sci-fi, AI means artificial general intelligence like Data from star trek, or the terminator. This, I shouldn't need to say, doesn't exist. Techbros use the term AI to trick investors into funding their projects. It's largely a grift.

What is the term AI being used to obfuscate?

If you want to help the less online and less tech literate people in your life navigate the hype around AI, the best way to do it is to encourage them to change their language around AI topics.

By calling these technologies what they really are, and encouraging the people around us to know the real names, we can help lift the veil, kill the hype, and keep people safe from scams. Here are some starting points, which I am just pulling from Wikipedia. I'd highly encourage you to do your own research.

Machine learning (ML): is an umbrella term for solving problems for which development of algorithms by human programmers would be cost-prohibitive, and instead the problems are solved by helping machines "discover" their "own" algorithms, without needing to be explicitly told what to do by any human-developed algorithms. (This is the basis of most technologically people call AI)

Language model: (LM or LLM) is a probabilistic model of a natural language that can generate probabilities of a series of words, based on text corpora in one or multiple languages it was trained on. (This would be your ChatGPT.)

Generative adversarial network (GAN): is a class of machine learning framework and a prominent framework for approaching generative AI. In a GAN, two neural networks contest with each other in the form of a zero-sum game, where one agent's gain is another agent's loss. (This is the source of some AI images and deepfakes.)

Diffusion Models: Models that generate the probability distribution of a given dataset. In image generation, a neural network is trained to denoise images with added gaussian noise by learning to remove the noise. After the training is complete, it can then be used for image generation by starting with a random noise image and denoise that. (This is the more common technology behind AI images, including Dall-E and Stable Diffusion. I added this one to the post after as it was brought to my attention it is now more common than GANs.)

I know these terms are more technical, but they are also more accurate, and they can easily be explained in a way non-technical people can understand. The grifters are using language to give this technology its power, so we can use language to take it's power away and let people see it for what it really is.

[yearningaces]

So...

You know how if you're (American) in another country, and find another American and all the sudden it's like 'Hey! Friend! Friend! That's my bestie!' That person could be from an entirely different state but all the sudden you're similar around the unfamiliar so you're buddies!

Does that happen with monsters?

Better yet-

Say you're a human, the only human being hired onto a large cargo ship that travels planet to planet through space. Most of the others you work with are so different in appearance and species you sometimes don't know even if some of them have eyes, or just use a form of echolocation.

Still! It's a nice job, you're given respect due to your status as (a deathworlder) a human, and you're settling in nicely the first few days.

There's a pack of aliens you haven't met yet though, The Aslai.

Huge creatures with a semi-humanoid appearance paired with patches of striped fur across varying parts of them. A maw that unhinges in three distinct separation points, fur tipped tails that vary with color, and slightly elongated limbs.

Of course, the Aslai are the engineers. They work in the sub-floor deck where the machinery and engines are stationed. Heavy creatures with prehensile tails that can lift just as much as their long, burly arms. Creatures made to be strong, and with vast intelligence, the Aslai are perfect for such jobs. Most times they flock to them, truthfully.

Like how winged and levitating aliens prefer jobs that involve them leaving the ship where they can move freely through open space with the right gear.

The first time you see one of the Aslai, they're walking with heavy boot steps to the mess hall. You both freeze in the hall though.

For you? It's got a human-ish face and you're experiencing one hell of a level of the uncanny valley effect in real time.

For Hesh, you look like a softer, mini version of the Aslai. Their tail flicks in excitement and with heavy steps they draw closer. A brighter fur pattern than their fellow Aslai, they're noticeable by anyone. They croon in a low gruff tone, reaching out and prodding at your arms, legs, cheeks, happily babbling in some method of communication you can't exactly understand.

It's when the other three Aslai suddenly appear with different fur patterns and facial structures, mimicking the first one that you seem to realize they're 'cooing' over you. Like if you saw a stray cat on the way home...

You're about to say anything when one of the botanist -a Threxacord by the looks of its mandibles- speaks sharply, "Don't you have somewhere to be, human??"

Technically it's right... You're not at your post, but you were told by your immediate boss you could go on lunch. You don't have a chance to explain that though, not when the second largest Aslai lifts you up and sets you on its shoulders.

"Don't talk to our human that way." The rough, crackley voice is a shock to anyone who hears it, but the pack of Aslai seem comfortable. You can only hand onto the horns atop it's head to keep in place as a different one continues, each on the same thought process.

"Drunum, shouldn't you be tending to your artificial soils?" It's more of a throaty growl than words, but the irritation is clear.

It's only when Drunum hisses as it retreat when the Aslai you're semi-surrounded by relax, looking over at you with bright, fanged grins. They seem to each be muttering variations of the same phrases.

"Oooh, little Aslai! Honorary Aslai!"

"Are you a meat eater too? I bet you're a meat eater-"

"You're warm blooded, that's great! So am I!"

"Look, you've got five fingers too! No claws, but that's okay!"

The pack easily brings you to the mess hall, deciding then and there you're one of them. Just a tiny version. Practically cousin species!

I was going somewhere with this

[fans4wga]

"The studios thought they could handle a strike. They might end up sparking a revolution"

by Mary McNamara

"If you want to start a revolution, tell your workers you’d rather see them lose their homes than offer them fair wages. Then lecture them about how their “unrealistic” demands are “disruptive” to the industry, not to mention disturbing your revels at Versailles, er, Sun Valley.

Honestly, watching the studios turn one strike into two makes you wonder whether any of their executives have ever seen a movie or watched a television show. Scenes of rich overlords sipping Champagne and acting irritated while the crowd howls for bread rarely end well for the Champagne sippers.

This spring, it sometimes seemed like the Hollywood studios represented by the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers were actively itching for a writers’ strike. Speculations about why, exactly, ran the gamut: Perhaps it would save a little money in the short run and show the Writers Guild of America (perceived as cocky after its recent ability to force agents out of the packaging business) who’s boss.

More obviously, it might secure the least costly compromise on issues like residuals payments and transparency about viewership.

But the 20,000 members of the WGA are not the only people who, having had their lives and livelihoods upended by the streaming model, want fair pay and assurances about the use of artificial intelligence, among other sticking points. The 160,000 members of the Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists share many of the writers’ concerns. And recent unforced errors by studio executives, named and anonymous, have suddenly transformed a fight the studios were spoiling for into a public relations war they cannot win.

Even as SAG-AFTRA representatives were seeing a majority of their demands rejected despite a nearly unanimous strike vote, a Deadline story quoted unnamed executives detailing a strategy to bleed striking writers until they come crawling back.

Days later, when an actors’ strike seemed imminent, Disney Chief Executive Bob Iger took time away from the Sun Valley Conference in Idaho not to offer compromise but to lecture. He told CNBC’s David Faber that the unions’ refusal to help out the studios by taking a lesser deal is “very disturbing to me.”

“There’s a level of expectation that they have that is just not realistic,” Iger said. “And they are adding to the set of the challenges that this business is already facing that is, quite frankly, very disruptive.”

If Iger thought his attempt to exec-splain the situation would make actors think twice about walking out, he was very much mistaken. Instead, he handed SAG-AFTRA President Fran Drescher the perfect opportunity for the kind of speech usually shouted atop the barricades.

“We are the victims here,” she said Thursday, marking the start of the actors’ strike. “We are being victimized by a very greedy entity. I am shocked by the way the people that we have been in business with are treating us. I cannot believe it, quite frankly: How far apart we are on so many things. How they plead poverty, that they’re losing money left and right, when giving hundreds of millions of dollars to their CEOs. It is disgusting. Shame on them. They stand on the wrong side of history at this very moment.”

Cue the cascading strings of “Les Mis,” bolstered by images of the most famous people on the planet walking out in solidarity: the cast of “Oppenheimer” leaving the film’s London premiere; the writers and cast of “The X-Files” reuniting on the picket line.

A few days later, Barry Diller, chairman and senior executive of IAC and Expedia Group and a former Hollywood studio chief, suggested that studio executives and top-earning actors take a 25% pay cut to bring a quick end to the strikes and help prevent “the collapse of the entire industry.”

When Diller is telling executives to take a pay cut to avoid destroying their industry, it is no longer a strike, or even two strikes. It is a last-ditch attempt to prevent le déluge.

Yes, during the 2007-08 writers’ strike, picketers yelled noncomplimentary things at executives as they entered their respective lots. (“What you earnin’, Chernin?” was popular at Fox, where Peter Chernin was chairman and chief executive.) But that was before social media made everything more immediate, incendiary and personal. (Even if they have never seen a movie or TV show, one would think that people heading up media companies would understand how media actually work.)

Even at the most heated moments of the last writers’ strike, executives like Chernin and Iger were seen as people who could be reasoned with — in part because most of the executives were running studios, not conglomerations, but mostly because the pay gap between executives and workers, in Hollywood and across the country, had not yet widened to the reprehensible chasm it has since.

Now, the massive eight- and nine-figure salaries of studio heads alongside photos of pitiably small residual checks are paraded across legacy and social media like historical illustrations of monarchs growing fat as their people starve. Proof that, no matter how loudly the studios claim otherwise, there is plenty of money to go around.

Topping that list is Warner Bros. Discovery Chief Executive Davd Zaslav. Having re-named HBO Max just Max and made cuts to the beloved Turner Classic Movies, among other unpopular moves, Zaslav has become a symbol of the cold-hearted, highly compensated executive that the writers and actors are railing against.

The ferocious criticism of individual executives’ salaries has placed Hollywood’s labor conflict at the center of the conversation about growing wealth disparities in the U.S., which stokes, if not causes, much of this country’s political divisions. It also strengthens the solidarity among the WGA and SAG-AFTRA and with other groups, from hotel workers to UPS employees, in the midst of disputes during what’s been called a “hot labor summer.”

Unfortunately, the heightened antagonism between studio executives and union members also appears to leave little room for the kind of one-on-one negotiation that helped end the 2007-08 writers’ strike. Iger’s provocative statement, and the backlash it provoked, would seem to eliminate him as a potential elder statesman who could work with both sides to help broker a deal.

Absent Diller and his “cut your damn salaries” plan, there are few Hollywood figures with the kind of experience, reputation and relationships to fill the vacuum.

At this point, the only real solution has been offered by actor Mark Ruffalo, who recently suggested that workers seize the means of production by getting back into the indie business, which is difficult to imagine and not much help for those working in television.

It’s the AMPTP that needs to heed Iger’s admonishment. At a time when the entertainment industry is going through so much disruption, two strikes is the last thing anyone needs, especially when the solution is so simple. If the studios don’t want a full-blown revolution on their hands, they’d be smart to give members of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA contracts they can live with."

[cottagecore-moss-king]

Not so Artificial Intelligence

Inspired by This prompt: HERE  by @corkinavoid No beta we die like Danny and Jason. Do not steal, take, or repost my writing without permission, I do not consent to my art being used in AI training. 

Tim had just finished attaching the wires of the speaker into the bat computer for Betty when the speakers began to crackle. 

“What is this? Wait, can you hear me?” The voice that echoed out of the speakers was very distinctly not robotic, or mechanical. It very much had human intonation… and a mid-western accent???

The gathered family froze and stared in shock. Dick and Stephanie were here as a joke, Babs, Tim, and Bruce were there as the techies, and despite Damian’s protests, he was also standing besides Bruce. Despite the gathering of bats, none of them could have expected this. A few hands went to emergency beacons and cellphones, before pausing.

“Hello Red Robin!” The voice cheerfully called. Taking steps back and glancing around the cave at Babs, who stared at Bruce, who stared at Tim as he clicked his super beacon. 

“Betty?”

“I mean, you do know me as such, but I actually prefer Danny, he/they.” Babs pointed at Bruce, who looked at Tim, who lamely motioned towards Babs. 

“Who uh. Who installed you?” His voice was most certainly not squeaky thanks for asking. 

“Oh, well uh, technically no-one, I accidentally did it myself.” The screen turned on and started to glitch out to a camera. It eventually settled on the sketching program, which popped a smiley face onto itself.

“Who are you” Bruce growled, as he switched into batman mode. Damian was glaring at the screen and the rest of the family had inched into a defensive formation. 

The entrance door entered and Superman walked out of it. 

“What seems to be the issue B?”

“OMG It’s superman! You’re like, my second favorite hero!”

“Oh, uh, than-er” Bruce glared at him, with no idea of what this entity was, it was always a good idea to follow fey rules. “That’s very much appreciated. Who is your first?”

“Martian Manhunter obviously.” Betty, or Danny as they were now referred to as, began to sketch out something on the app. 

“I got into a fight with a technomancer. I figured I could just phase out but he did some magic and now I’m stuck. Very rude if you ask me.”

“Ah, I see.” Supermans face implied that he very much did not see. “So, are you a martian perhaps? With the phasing and Manhunter as your favoratie.”

“Oh no, I’m ahhhh….” The cheery tone died as Danny tried to find the words, “I’m like a spirit, yeah, I guess that’s the right way to put it right now.”

“Were you human before this?” butted in Tim. Now that the seeming threat had passed, (you could never be too careful, no shut up Nightwing he is not paranoid, just cautious) the family had relaxed their stance and Barbra had rolled over to the computer screen. 

“Technically???” 

Danny did not sound so sure of himself.

“It’s not a problem if you aren’t, you can tell that we don’t really care if you are human or not.” 

Superman floated carefully down to the ground besides Bruce, but without actually touching down. Perhaps he simply forgot that they were friends with non-humans.

“Tell that to the gov.” he snarked back, and that was definitely teenager snark. 

“Wait shit. No, no no no, I take that back, don’t tell the government anything, I didn’t say nothin’!” he gasped and staticed out. 

“What do you mean tell it to the government?”

“NOPE, NUH UH. I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING YOU CAN’T PROVE IT, I WANT MY LAWYER!”

“Alright,” Bruce pacified putting his hands up “Let me just call a friend and they can get you out.”

“Wait really? Where’s Mr. I’m so dark and broody tell me everything?”

Yep, that’s teenager snark right there, Bruce thought as his eye twitch and his kids snickered. 

“Sooo, how did this technomancer trap you, Danny?” Dick strolled over to the chair in front of the computer and flopped down spinning around in lazy circles. 

“Oh, well you see it started when…” Danny's voice faded off as Bruce took his league communicator out and stepped around a corner with Kal to call up Zatanna. 

“Hey Batman! What’s up?”

“We need you down in the batcave, some seemingly civilian has been trapped in the computer for a couple weeks now, and we’ve only just gotten into communication with them. They say it was technomancy.” He rumbled. He would have to suit up and manage to get Danny not to spill any of their identities, this just turned into a major headache to deal with. Batman hates magic. 

Once all of the children were suited up and Danny had been given an explanation, they were all patently waiting for Zatanna to arrive. 

The zeta tubes finally lit up with her arrival as she walked towards the gathered group holding her bag.

Halfway through greeting she paused, and stared blankly the screen. Everyone else shot curious glances, backwards, some more obvious than others. Did Nightwing seriously need to turn his head like that, he swears his eldest has bones, but sometimes he seriously starts to doubt himself. 

On the screen is a smiley face with a hand emoji. And a little drawing of a stick figure with white hair, green eyes, and a black suit. 

“Hello! I am Danny, I’m so sorry you had to come all this way to help me, I’d offer you something but I don’t even have a body right now.” One awkward laugh later, and Bruce wanted to have had his head in her hands. 

“I don’t worry, I can fix this. It’ll be a pain, but I can.”

While Zatanna sat up the spell and sent Kal out to go to Metropolis, (less suspicious for him to be buying things than Gotham), Bruce decided to stand around in the shadows while waiting to be useful. His kids, were off making friends with the strange person in the computer however. Laughing and teasing, he’s almost certain that Stephanie and Dick are trying to convince Danny to stay around and get adopted, despite Danny and Damian’s protests. 

After thirty minutes, Zatanna was ready to do the spell, and Danny was saying goodbye. 

As the light shone through the sigils written on the board and Zattana continued her muttering and waving, Danny added one last thing. 

“And I added a file of something for you guys to look at, please please please look into it! I hope I can see you soon!”

And with a final flash, Danny was gone, leaving the batfam without their lovely AI/new friend. Zatannna wrapped things up and Batman escorted her back to the Zeta tube with Clark, thanking them briefly. And with that, Clark and Zatanna left with Two flashes of light. 

Now, time to see what that file was that Danny had added. 

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Android x Reader (I)

It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.

Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)

Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism

[Part 2] | [More original works]

You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.

"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)." 

That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock. 

"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message. 

"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.

 It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.

You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.

 "There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days. 

 You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows. 

"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?" 

He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window. 

"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?" 

You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied: 

"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."

You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake. 

"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused. 

"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else." 

You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing. 

"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat. 

"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."

"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.

Nothing.

"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport. 

He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.

At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks. 

"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.

"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, you've seen this before?"

"In history books."

You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society. 

"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation. 

"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly. 

"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."

He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.

"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail." 

You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary. 

"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."

You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment? 

"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously. 

"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"

"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.

Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.

"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."

"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.

As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."

You scoff.

"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"

You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology. 

"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."

True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.

Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.

"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."

You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.

While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.

"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."

He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.

"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.

"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."

You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.

"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa. 

The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport. 

"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.

"Oh?"

"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."

"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead. 

"Almost."

His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment. 

"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans. 

Just you."

[bewitched-if]

"A love not so genuine, a love so forced it was made to feel real."

[ DEMO ] ✧ [ RO INTROS ] ✧ [ WORLD LORE ] ✧ [ CWS/TWS ]

Overlooked your whole life, you never had any friends to turn to—except the neighbor's kid, who you could not even call your friend. Even your parents cared about others more than they cared about you. They made it clear that you were the bane of their existence, that they're ashamed to call you their child.

Sometimes, Jules tries to comfort you. They didn't know that they were the reason you were always lonely. Overlooked. Jules embodied perfection, kindness, intelligence—everything you were not. You wanted to be them. You wanted to be loved. Wanted to feel how it's like being the person everyone either wanted to be or to be with.

And now, you find yourself somewhere completely foreign. In a world filled with empires, kingdoms and dukedoms, you were suddenly the beloved heir and child of a highly respected House and Heart Lady's child. You were the so-called saint of the empire, loved and adored by all.

Everything felt surreal, forced. Everyone worshiped you, loved you, no matter what you did, no matter how you acted; they all just turn a blind eye.

You were right.

Stumbling upon an old mage's book, there you face a truth: the body you now inhabit cast a curse—bewitched—everyone—surprisingly affecting everyone but a certain group of people into loving you forever.

What will you do with this discovery? Will you continue to live through this artificial affection? Or will you fight to break the curse, risking everything to free yourself and those around you from this unnatural bond?

In a world where everyone loves you, will you ever find out what true love really means?

Play as male, female, non-binary.

Customize your character, your original body and the child of Heart Lady.

Romance any of the six romanceable options; but earn their trust first.

Find a way to break the curse.

Or maybe even meet the original soul of this body?

Buy interactive drabbles in-game using hair pins. [in the works, more info coming soon.]

✧ These are your victims companions throughout the game. Will you befriend them or will you go for something more?

Juniper de Verburgh: Crowned Heir of Kleian Empire - Embodiment of: Jules : [NB] [RO]

Juniper is the Emperor's child and Kleian Empire's future ruler. They are often considered as angelic, intelligent, and attractive. Everyone either wants to be them, or be with them. Their hair is long, straight and red while their eyes are dark blue with porcelain skin. They remind you of your neighbor's kid, untouchable and perfect. Their personalities are similar too; charming, playful and excessively flirtatious towards you. You would think being engaged to someone will stop them from being touchy with Heart Lady's child, let me tell you something: No it won't. Perhaps, it is because they're affected by the spell? Or are they?

Celeste Roselli: Matriarch of Roselli Manor - Embodiment of Beatrice : [F] [RO]

Celeste took on the role of Matriarch of Roselli Manor after her father’s passing. Since then, she’s grown distant, serious, and almost impossible to approach. Her life revolves around work, her sister, and her responsibilities, leaving no room for rest or relaxation. The vibrant person she once was has faded, replaced by someone barely recognizable to those who knew her before the tragedy. She has long white hair that is ridiculously curly. Her skin is a deep shade of chestnut, while her eyes is glowing red. She reminds you of Beatrice, who was a girl who used to watch you get isolated and overlooked. She made no effort to befriend you, instead watched you get pushed around and left out. She was distant, cold, and shy. Celeste needed someone who she could call her home, her rest. Maybe that could truly be you?

Calliope Roselli: Celeste's Sister - Embodiment of Ophelia: [F] [RO]

Calliope is nothing like her sister. She is stubborn, fierce, and foul-mouthed. She often gets into scandals due to her recklessness and short-tempered nature. It's easy to get on her bad side, and when you do, you're in for hell. She shares her father's short, slightly curly hair and blue eyes, while her skin and hair color mirrors her mother and sister's. She reminds you of Ophelia, who was your ex-best friend and the only friend who betrayed you. Ophelia used to protect you from people, and you're not sure if you're fond of their similarities. Will you tame their fire, or will you get burned?

Rhys Stevyn Nicolei: Duke of Vasina - Embodiment of Feliks: [M] [RO]

If Rhys could pick one person who he hates the most in the whole galaxy; it would be you. You don't know the reason for his hatred, but the original soul must've done something to offend him, and it doesn't help that Rhys is suspicious of you because everyone seemed to love you. Rhys kind of acts like Juniper in a way, flirtatious, known for his hook ups and carefree attitude. Rhys has a neck-length, long braided black hair. His eyes is a deep shade of violet with olive skin. He reminds you of Feliks, who was your older sister's best friend and your rival. You and Feliks always tried to one-up each other, and to be honest, Feliks found solace when he found out you were a sore loser, a loner. It only made him joyful. How far will you go to make sure Rhys does not find out about the spell?

Kieran: Commander of Kleian Knights - Embodiment of Wren: [M] [RO]

As the Commander of Kleian Knights and your bodyguard, Kieran takes his job very seriously. You thought along with the four, that he would be the same and be immune to the spell, but what the hell is this arrangement? The original soul and he have a friends-with-benefits type relationship? Kieran has heterochromia eyes: left eye; gray, right eye; red. His caramel skin is always dirty due to spars, his hair is brown and tied up. Kieran reminds you of Wren, who acted like your protector and close confidant, he always looked at you with longing stares as if he wanted to kiss you. One thing led to another, and you found yourself falling in love and you thought he did too. But joke's on you, he didn't love you. He made a bet with your sister that if he could get you to fall in love with him, your sister would date him. All of it was fake. How are you supposed to know if Kieran is affected by the spell or not?

By falling in love it could either mean: 1) MC fell in love with the idea of being loved, 2) MC had actually fallen in love with Wren.

Zara/Zeke Montclair: The Magician - Embodiment of Zoya/Zivon: [F/M] [ RO ]

Z is known to be quite... an outstanding magician. Often caught causing trouble in many ways, like accidentally setting their own tower on fire, losing valuable items given by the emperor, making kids cry, getting people sick due to their magic... Zara has short lavender hair, while Zeke has a long one. Their skin tan brown, while their eyes are black. Z reminds you of Zoya/Zivon, Your childhood friend who returned to Russia. Zoya/Zivon would always make you laugh when you were sad, always bring you food when you were hungry and starved, would always share their toys with you, would always play with you. Even though they had other friends to be with, they always chose you. But now that they're gone, you probably won't ever experience that happiness ever again. Once the only source of your happiness, now gone.

Kara (rename-able) [IRL] - Your older sister: [F]

Your sister... she's not really the easiest to get along with. Being seen as perfect in your parents' eyes, she got away with everything. Like getting into physical fights with you, humiliating you in public, messing with your stuff, et cetera, et cetera. She makes it clear that she hates your guts, and that she is overjoyed to see you suffer. How would she react when she sees you gone?

Mother [IRL] - Your mother: [F]

Your mother doesn't care about you. Not one bit. She is often away for her business trips, leaving you and Kara alone, but when she does come back, she doesn't even bat you an eye and focuses on Kara instead. She turns a blind eye whenever Kara picks on you, in front of her, unbothered. She probably doesn't even care that you're gone.

Father [IRL] - Your (step-)father: [M]

Your father... you don't have much say on him, honestly. The only time he ever talks to you was when he needs an errand child, or when he joins in on your mother yelling at you for whatever reason. There was one time where your mother asked you to buy things for your sister because she was too lazy, where you walked in on your father making out with some random woman at the back of a 7-11. He threatened to throw away the stuffed bear your biological father gave you if you ever snitched on him. He's probably overjoyed to see you gone.

??? - An otherworldly being: [?]

The voices in your head that make you go crazy, mental, second-guess, commit a crime.

reblogs appreciated <3 | demo: writing prologue; please be patient!