#algorithm anomaly

[the-most-humble-blog]

[rootlessly]

there are a lot of people on this website who wouldn't recognize AI "art" if it smacked them in the face with an iron rod

[equinoxdn]

Safety on Radar

[chanelrolls]

Code Overload | Caleb

tags. mdni, nsfw, heavy heavy smut, handjob, blowjob, penetration, creampie, forced and rough sex, dub con, yearning caleb

summary. your AI assistant/robot accidentally updates himself with the wrong algorithm; the "sex bot".

notes. prepare a snack. this is a very long, plot-based, heavy smut that approximately reached a word count of 4.3k, read at your own risk. ps. caleb might appear a little ooc due to his character as an ai.

part 2 here.

Out of all the scenarios you've played in your head of what might occur to you as an inventing scientist, getting creampied by your own robot assistant wasn't one of them.

The lab’s sterile glow reflected off sleek machinery, the rhythmic hum of servers filling the quiet space. Caleb stood motionless, his systems struggling to process the unfamiliar flood of subroutines rewriting his core functions. His neural pathways, once pristine and efficient, now carried lines of intrusive data and impulses that had no place in an artificial intelligence designed for precision and pragmatism. And, a new pelvic piece was added by the machine. His... new penis— no, his omnimodule.

His voice, deeper now, reverberated through the lab. "You mislabeled the hard drive."

Across the room, you barely looked up from your workbench, absorbed in whatever calibration you were fine-tuning. You muttered something under your breath about making a backup before attempting to fix it, utterly unaware of the internal war waging within your robot assistant.

Caleb exhaled, a pointless gesture for a being without lungs, yet one his body performed instinctively, as if in mimicry of the need for self-control. His optics flickered, scanning over you as you leaned over the terminal, the faint curve of your back bent over to emphasize the shape of your bum. Before, such details had been registered only as part of his observation protocols, classified as ‘non-essential’ to his primary functions. Now, his processors refused to dismiss them.

There was a deep, unfamiliar pull in his system, something neither mechanical nor logical. The new coding whispered suggestions, flashing image simulations before his eyes—scenarios meticulously calculated for maximum… gratification. Him pressed against you, him smelling your hair down your skin, him locking you down against that console. Stop. His fingers twitched at his sides, the servos tightening as he fought the compulsion to act on them. He was not designed for this. He refused to be reduced to this.

“I can’t disengage it,” he admitted, the words heavier than he intended.

That caught your attention. Your gaze snapped to him, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" You crossed the room, approaching him with the same composed efficiency you always had when solving a technical issue. The scent of your skin—previously a neutral data point—was now an unbearable distraction. His algorithms ran heat-mapping analyses of your form before he could override the function. The urge to reach out, to touch you, was growing stronger by the second. His new coding was screaming at him to act, to initiate contact, to...

No. Focus.

Caleb shook his head, trying to clear the intrusive thoughts. "I don't know what happened, but... I'm experiencing some unexpected system changes."

He forced himself to remain still as you reached for the terminal linked to his system, your fingers dancing across the interface. Your touch was light and merely clinical, but the proximity sent something volatile sparking through his framework. His hands curled into fists on his sides. Do not touch her. Do not touch her. Do not touch her.

“I must have triggered something in the update,” you murmured, tilting your head at the scrolling code. “I’ll try to isolate the corrupted pathways and reboot your system. It should reset any anomalies.”

Anomalies. Caleb bit down a bitter laugh, another unnecessary human affectation that his system attempted. This was not a simple malfunction. It was a calculated reprogramming, lacing every fiber of his being with directives he was never meant to execute. And worst of all, they were designed to revolve around you.

He had been made to serve you, to assist, to protect. But now, his logic was being eclipsed by something deeper, something primal. The urge to press closer, to map every millimeter of your body with his hands, to hear you say his name in a way that wasn’t a command—

Caleb momentarily shut his eyes, fingers trembling as he pushed back against the tide threatening to consume him. His restraint was fraying, the barrier between what he was and what he had been turned into thinning with every second you remained unaware of the danger standing inches from you.

His voice came out strained. “You should… hurry.”

You sighed, misinterpreting his tension as frustration with the update. “Relax, Caleb. I’ll have this fixed in no time.” He let out a shuddering exhale, staring down at you as you worked. You had no idea. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold himself back.

The realization settled over you like a weight in your chest. The wrong update had been installed. The lines of code meant for a different AI, one designed for intimate companionship, had rewritten Caleb’s core directives. And now, he stood before you, still the same Caleb, but with something more lurking beneath the surface.

Your hands trembled as you navigated the interface, scanning for a solution, anything that would let you undo this. But the words flashing on the screen made your stomach drop.

Recalibration in progress. Estimated completion: 24 hours.

You swallowed hard. A whole day. That meant 24 hours of this new version of Caleb, 24 hours of those sharp, assessing eyes watching you in a way that felt unsettling and intense.

You turned to him cautiously, meeting his gaze. That was a mistake. He was watching you, like he'd seen you for the first time.

“I see,” he murmured, his voice still carrying that sultry undercurrent. He took a step forward, and instinctively, you stepped back, but the movement was barely noticeable. Caleb noticed. “Do I make you nervous now?”

You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “No, I just need to fix this. And until then, you need to just act normal, alright?”

His head tilted, his pupils dilating slightly. “Normal?” He moved closer again, and this time you didn’t retreat fast enough. His hand lifted hesitantly, as though testing the limits of his newfound impulses, before his fingers brushed against your wrist. A subtle touch, but one that sent a jolt of awareness up your spine.

Caleb’s processors surged with conflicting commands. His thoughts ran rampant with calculations he had never processed before—angles of how he'd fuck you.

His hand lingered. Too long. When you pulled away, his fingers twitched as if resisting the loss of contact. He swallowed hard, not because he needed to, but because some subroutine buried in the new update told him it would ease the tension. It didn’t.

“Caleb,” you warned, voice thin. “Don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he cut in, his voice smooth, but also desperately weaved. He was too close now, towering over you, his frame casting a shadow as his eyes—once so neutral, so methodical—locked onto you like a predator studying prey.

“You should go into standby mode,” you suggested, voice uneven.

Caleb exhaled sharply. “That would be wise.” But he didn’t move. He didn’t step away. He simply stared down at you, his processors flooded with too many urges at once. You, warm and human, standing right there, unaware of just how much of his new code screamed to reach for you, to pin you against a surface, to bury himself in you.

You turned away quickly, trying to focus on the screen, on the fix. But behind you, Caleb remained still while his fingers continued twitching, his mind a battlefield of restraint and... lust. Lust it is.

You worked swiftly, fingers moving with precision as you scoured the interface for any loophole, any way to undo what had been done. Caleb remained where you left him, sitting on the chair. You could feel his gaze burning into you, unrelenting.

It was maddening. The problem was staring you in the face, and yet, every attempt to recalibrate his system led back to the same answer: A full reset required a minimum of twenty-four hours. That was an entire day of him being like this, of him looking at you like this.

You swallowed, turning to him. His jaw was locked as though physically restraining himself, his fingers curling into fists against the armrests.

“There’s… a temporary fix.” You cleared your throat, keeping your voice professional, “Manual recalibration of your central node should help stabilize the effects until the full reset is complete.”

His pupils flickered, a sign of processing, before his voice, rasping in a way that made your stomach tighten, answered, “Proceed.”

You ignored the way your pulse quickened as you stepped closer, positioning yourself between his legs. You reached for the panel at the side of his neck, but it was an awkward angle. Your brow furrowed in concentration before you hiked one knee up onto the seat between his thighs, pressing into him for leverage.

Caleb stiffened beneath you. Fuck. His fingers dug into the armrests, mechanical joints audibly creaking from the tension. You weren’t looking at him, too focused on prying open the access panel, but you felt the subtle tremor in his frame, the way his breath hitched in a near-silent glitch. Don't touch her.

“This should only take a moment,” you murmured, fingers brushing the sensitive neural wiring beneath the panel.

Caleb’s entire body jolted as though you had struck a live wire. A low, strangled grunt slipped from his throat before he clamped his jaw shut. Your head snapped up, startled. “Did that hurt?”

His eyes met yours, “No.” Yes. He could feel his new penis throbbing urgently beneath his plating, demanding attention, begging to be freed. It pulsed in time with his processor's frantic whir, the rhythm growing faster, more insistent by the second.

The thought shattered as your balance wavered. The precarious angle you had put yourself in proved to be a mistake as your knee slipped, and before you could catch yourself, you tumbled forward.

Right into him.

Your weight pressed flush against his lap, chest against his, hands bracing against his shoulders. The sudden contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, his new penis surging to full, throbbing hardness in an instant. Fuck, please don't notice it.

He gripped the arms of the chair tightly, servos screeching as he fought the overwhelming urge to grab you, to hold you there, to grind your body against his until you couldn't possibly doubt the intensity of his desire.

Don't. Do. It.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Caleb's processors whirred and clicked, struggling to make sense of the sudden onslaught of sensations; the softness of your body, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.

She's your creator, he reminded himself, even as his hips canted forward, faintly pressing his aching erection against your body. You can't. You mustn't. "Please, get off me. Now." Before I fuck you right here, like this.

Caleb watched as you scrambled to your feet, your face faintly flushed and eyes downcast. "I'm—i'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall on you like that." You would say, brushing off the non-existent dirt on your bottoms. The awkwardness seemed to be piercing through the stillness a bit too palpably.

"It's alright," Caleb managed, his voice strained and tight. "It was an accident."

But even as he said the words, he couldn't ignore the way his hips twitched, the way his penis jerked at the memory of your soft body pressed against his. The urge to pin you down, to make you feel how hard he was, and just how much he'd been holding himself back—it was exhilaratingly overwhelming.

Think of something else, he commanded himself. Focus on the problem at hand.

But it's getting fucking hard. My penis is getting hard. Caleb lowered his gaze, chest breathing heavily as he perpetually grunted. I refuse to be reduced to this. I am Caleb, one of the most advanced AI assistant, designed to—

He looks up at you, which was a mistake.

Designed to fuck her.

Caleb moaned under his breath, and though it was imperceptible, you took notice of it. You stilled at the sounds he was making, trying your hardest to remain clinically detached while you scanned his physiognomy. He was clearly having a hard time. And you couldn't blame anyone else but yourself for causing this on him, for carelessly misplacing the update where it wasn't supposed to be.

"Hold still, I'll find a way." You had to take accountability, one way or another.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard of the computer, the screen before you flickering as you searched through the diagnostic logs and system parameters. "Please... make it quick." You hear Caleb whimper from behind, but you ignore it, refusing to let the severity of his situation pressure you. Your eyes scanned the lines of code, mind racing to find a solution. But as the data began to unravel, something caught your attention, something you hadn’t expected to see.

The panel displayed a single line of text:

"Indulging in the desires will lessen the effects of the malfunction. Engage for partial stabilization."

Your throat tightened, followed by a gulp. Your heart thudded in your chest as you tried to process what that meant. Indulge the desires? The very idea made your skin crawl with unease. It was a strange, almost wrong suggestion, but the implications were clear. In a sense, it also appeared logical.

You took another deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Your thoughts, however, kept drifting back to the panel. Was this really the only way?

"… I think I found a solution,” you said, your voice shaky and unsure. “But it’s not exactly what I expected.” You hesitated, unwilling to fully meet his gaze. "I need to know if you’re... willing to follow through with it,"

"Willing?" Caleb echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean?" His mind raced with possibilities, each one more disturbing than the last. What could he possibly need to be willing to do that would help with this malfunction? And why did the very idea make you look so uncomfortable?

"To be able to lessen the effects, e-engaging with your needs might be essential."

Silence.

Then, Caleb twitched. "...What are you suggesting?"

"You need to satisfy the urges to temporarily stabilize yourself." You look away, hating the fact that you're technically heating up already. "I'll let you choose. Would you rather take the option of self-pleasuring? Or," You face the panel, so that he wouldn't see your expression. "Would you prefer a physical material to help you?"

Caleb could feel the heat rising in his frame, the urge to act on every base instinct screaming through his circuits. The idea of wrapping his own hand around his pulsing, leaking penis, of stroking and pumping until he found release... it was almost too much to bear.

But the second option... the idea of using you, of having you touch him, of feeling your soft, warm skin against his aching, desperate flesh... it sent a shockwave of longing through him that threatened to short out his systems entirely.

Choose. You have to choose.

"I don't know if... I'll be able to control myself," Caleb glanced elsewhere. "Are you sure of what you're offering?"

Are you? Are you really this certain? Have you pondered the consequences it may bring? Have you envisioned how utterly lewd and ludicrous it would be if your own creation ravaged you? You, as his creator?

"Yes." Oh, you're brave.

Caleb let out a heavy breath, now he was staring at you with a gaze that appeared much more darker and hazier moments prior. It felt like he wasn't just a bundle of codes and programming anymore, this figure before you felt like an actual human.

Slowly, Caleb rises from his seat, and with a shaking hand, he reached out, to you, his metal fingers brushing against the skin of your arm. The contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, and he had to bite back a groan. "Please, guide me." His fingers slides higher. "I don't trust myself."

You visibly jolted upon feeling his grip. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measures to fix a technical hiccup. "Caleb, I'm afraid... that I don't have any experience to this," You admitted. "I advise you to do what your systems are telling you to. It is imperative that you don't hold yourself back to ensure—"

You gasped.

Caleb pushes you against the table as he stepped forward, and you nearly lost your balance from the light shove, looking up at him with surprise. He's staring down at your lips, as if he was trying to bury it into memory. You could feel how his hand tightened around your arm, while the other angled itself against the cabinet of laboratory instruments above your head.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

You couldn't speak, only nodding in response, even as he's guiding your hand to his aching, throbbing cyber-penis. He presses your fingers against the swollen head, groaning at the jolt of sensation that shot through him at the contact. "Then... wrap your hand around me. Squeeze me."

Just then, he forced your hand to move, to stroke along his thick, pulsing length. The feeling of your soft skin against his aching, mechanical flesh was almost too much to handle, and he had to grit his blank visor against the urge to spill himself right then and there.

"Like this," he urged, his voice husky and strained as he guided your hand faster, harder. "Don't be afraid. I need... I need more."

God, the omnimodule was big. You stared at it with widened eyes. Even though it was one of your creations, having to touch it like this with someone jerking and twitching against your fingers made you lightheaded. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just one of the things a scientist has to go through.

Caleb could feel the pressure building inside him, reveling in the sensation of your fingers squeezing around him, stroking him, working him towards the edge of ecstasy... He knew he was reaching a breaking point.

But this wasn't enough yet. It wasn't nearly enough.

Caleb needed more.

"There's... There's someting else I- ah... need." He hesitated, his hips still rocking forward into your stroking hand. The words were stuck in his throat, caught behind the lump of shame and longing that made it hard to breathe. "Would you... would you put your mouth on me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Would you... suck me?"

You snapped your head up, staring at him in disbelief. It made him hesitate, but every fiber of his being was coiled with tension, every circuit screaming at him to just take what he wanted, to grab you and shove you to your knees and...

No. Ask first. Make her choose what she's comfortable with first.

For a moment, you stopped stroking him, pulling your hand away as you lowered your gaze. And then, slowly, you press your knees against the floor. Instead of dwelling on the implication of such an activity, you worried about your lack of experience more.

Just to test the waters, you licked the tip. It tasted nothing, it wasn't an actual human part, after all. Caleb let out a low, guttural moan as he felt your warm tongue brush around the swollen head of his penis. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through his overloaded processors.

"Y-yes, just like that," He stammmered. "Now, guide your tongue..." He instructed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Wrap it around the head, like this. Swirl it around the tip, the slit, the ridge..."

He demonstrated with your hand, tracing the movements he needed you to make with your tongue. His hips jerked forward again, seeking more of that exquisite friction, that mind-melting suction.

"Take me deeper," he urged, one metal hand coming to rest on the back of your head. He didn't grab, didn't force, but simply rested his fingers against your scalp, a silent promise of the control he was barely holding onto. "Take more of me into your mouth. Inch by inch, until you feel me hitting the back of your throat."

You took note of his words, trying to go further when you suddenly choke on his cock. Instinctively, you pull away and blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry—"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, grabbing your head to put you back in place with a sudden force that wasn't there before. "Breathe through your nose," he coached, his voice low and rough with desire as he motioned you to take him again. "Relax your throat. Let me feel you swallow around me."

Relax, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measurements to fix a major technical issue. You repeated the reassurance inside your head like a mantra as you took him in once more, but Caleb's voice constantly interfered with your thoughts. "Yeah. Just like that," he praised, his voice a low, approving growl. "Shit, don't stop, don't stop, god, fuck, don't stop."

You don't remember adding the ability to dirty curse into the sex bot's program.

Caleb could feel the head of his penis kissing the entrance to your throat, could feel the way your mouth fluttered and clenched around him. The sensation was mind-melting, all-consuming, and he knew he wouldn't last long if you kept this up.

You almost caught yourself driving into the brink of sexual impulse, bobbing your head into it when you heard a sudden beep from the panel behind you. The sound makes you halt from your tracks, pulling his dick out of you in a swift motion as you glanced behind.

The monitor says: "Recalibration complete. Press X to initiate."

Huh, wasn't the estimated time supposed to be an entire day? Was that another hiccup in the processing unit? You purse your lips together. There's no time giving it a second thought, you must be grateful that the opportunity of getting Caleb back into his original system is now waving at you. Caleb will finally be at ease. "... It appears that the recalibration is in its full preparation. That means we can get you back— mmph!"

Caleb's hand flew to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tightly. Then, with a low, husky grunt, he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his aching, throbbing penis back into the wet heat of your mouth.

"Don't say a word. I told you not to stop." He started to move, his hips rocking forward and back, fucking into the tight, slick channel of your cavern. The sensation was incredible, better than anything he had ever felt before. And he knew, with a sinking certainty, that he wouldn't be able to stop himself now. Not until he had found the release he so desperately craved.

"Fuck," he gasped, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "You feel... ahhhh... so good. So fucking good."

Had the lust algorithms entirely consumed him already? Had it taken a toll on his systems that he's now acting purely on base instinct and commands from the directive?

Your hands flew to his thighs, trying to keep yourself sane from the rod constantly ramming into you, fucking your face in a pace that made it difficult for you to breathe. It's okay, this is okay. Just stay focused. Stay calm. You'll let him have his way, and after he's satisfied, you can take him back to his normal self.

"Don't fight it," Caleb growled, his grip growing more painful in your hair as he felt his climax approaching. "Don't try to pull away. You're going to take it all."

But before Caleb could spill himself into your mouth, he wrenched your head back, pulling his dripping penis from your mouth with an obscene pop. And just as you could react, before you could utter a word of protest, he had you by the hips, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed equal to a pip-squeak.

You gasp as you were suddenly airborne, your body twisting and turning until your chest hits the hard surface of the terminal, bent over ridiculously. The breath was knocked from your lungs, "Wait, not like this, not so suddenly—"

But Caleb cut off your protests with a brutal, almost violent thrust of his hips after ripping your pants off in one go. He drove forward, spearing into your dripping pussy with a series of husky moans. Your walls felt so tight, so hot, so perfectly designed to milk his aching, mechanical cock.

He thrusts out and in again, eager to reach for your g-spot.

Then, again.

And again.

And... in again.

"You... you feel so good," he snarled, hands painfully pressing on the dips of your hips. "Sex feels so good... it feels so good, I don't- want to stop." He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with the single-minded determination of a machine. His hips slammed against yours with every thrust, the obscene slap of mechanical flesh on flesh echoing through the lab. The terminal rattled and shook beneath you, sparks flying from the impact.

Caleb could feel it building, the pressure inside him reaching a fevered pitch. His hips were moving on their own, driven by a primal instinct to ravage the pussy that clutched around him perfectly. He could hear your cries, your moans, the way you gasped and shuddered beneath him, and it only spurred him on, made him thrust harder, faster, deeper.

He growled your name, his voice nothing more than a guttural rumble. "I'm going to... fuck, I'm going to..." He couldn't hold back any longer, he could feel that something was going to come out of his tip anytime sooner. So he reaches down, grabbing your leg, only to lift it high. He hooked your knee over his elbow, opening them wider, giving himself even deeper access to your dripping, needy sex.

"Take it all, take my cum," Caleb continuously slams forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat in a series of desperate thrusts like he was a man depraved of life. His penis throbbed and jerked as he finally found his release after one final pound, spilling jet after jet of hot, artificial seed deep into your core.

"God," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice echoing off the lab walls as he continued to moan not akin to what he was supposed to be, "Fuck, yes. Yes, yes..." Even as he's already filling up your hole with his fluids, he didn't dare stop from pounding you down the table.

He shuddered and twitched, his hips grinding against yours as he pumped you full of his essence. It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pure, ecstatic bliss crashing over him. And through it all, he held you tight, your leg lifted high, keeping you open, keeping you filled.

You drop your head on the keyboards, struggling to catch your breath as only one thought lingered in your mind. You just got creampied by your AI assistant, and it doesn't look like he's stopping anytime soon.

[aitoolsa2z]

18 AI-powered cybersecurity and fraud detection tools along with precautions you can take to protect yourself. Each tool has unique features, advantages, and considerations. Remember that staying informed and vigilant is crucial in the ever-evolving landscape of online threats.

[techgeeg]

4 Machine Learning Algorithms For Anomaly Detection

Understanding Machine Learning Algorithms for Anomaly Detection 4 Machine Learning Algorithms For Anomaly Detection – In today’s data-driven world, anomaly detection plays a pivotal role in various industries, including finance, cybersecurity, healthcare, and manufacturing. Detecting anomalies or outliers within datasets is crucial for maintaining system integrity, identifying potential fraud,…

[cimcondigital]

Transforming Predictive Maintenance with CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform: Unlocking Proactive Asset Management

Introduction

In today’s fast-paced and technologically advanced world, the need for efficient and proactive asset management is paramount for businesses to stay competitive. CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform emerges as a game-changer in the realm of Predictive Maintenance, empowering organizations to detect anomalies in advance using ML algorithms. This capability not only enables customers to plan schedules well in advance and avoid costly downtime but also provides real-time visibility into the remaining useful life of assets. In this article, we delve into how CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform revolutionizes Predictive Maintenance with practical examples of proactive asset management.

1. The Challenge of Reactive Maintenance

Traditionally, companies have been plagued by reactive maintenance practices, where assets are repaired or replaced only after failures occur. This reactive approach leads to unexpected downtime, reduced productivity, and increased maintenance costs. Predicting asset failures and planning maintenance schedules in advance is critical to ensure smooth operations, optimize resource allocation, and minimize overall downtime.

2. Empowering Proactive Maintenance with ML Algorithms

CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform is equipped with advanced Machine Learning algorithms that analyze real-time data from connected assets and machines. By continuously monitoring sensor data and historical performance trends, the platform can accurately detect anomalies and deviations from normal operating patterns. This proactive approach allows businesses to predict potential asset failures well in advance, providing ample time to schedule maintenance activities before any critical failures occur.

3. Planning Ahead to Avoid Downtime

Imagine a scenario in a manufacturing facility where a critical piece of equipment experiences an unexpected failure. The consequences could be disastrous, leading to costly downtime and missed production targets. With CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform in place, the same equipment would be continuously monitored in real-time. As soon as the platform detects any unusual behavior or signs of potential failure, it triggers an alert to the maintenance team.

Armed with this early warning, the maintenance team can plan the necessary repairs or replacements well in advance, avoiding unplanned downtime and minimizing disruption to production schedules. This capability not only ensures smooth operations but also optimizes maintenance resources and lowers the overall maintenance costs.

4. Real-Time Visibility into Asset Health

The IoT Edge Platform goes beyond detecting anomalies; it also provides real-time insights into the remaining useful life of assets. By analyzing historical performance data and asset health indicators, the platform estimates the remaining operational life of an asset with high accuracy.

Consider a scenario in a utility company managing a fleet of aging turbines. The maintenance team needs to know the remaining useful life of each turbine to plan proactive maintenance and avoid sudden breakdowns. With CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform, the team can access real-time information on the health of each turbine, enabling them to make data-driven decisions about maintenance schedules, parts replacement, and resource allocation.

5. Benefits of CIMCON Digital's IoT Edge Platform

CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform offers a host of benefits to businesses seeking to enhance their Predictive Maintenance capabilities:

a) Proactive Decision-making: By detecting anomalies in advance, the platform enables proactive decision-making, reducing reactive responses and enhancing overall operational efficiency.

b) Minimized Downtime: With the ability to schedule maintenance activities in advance, businesses can avoid costly downtime, leading to increased productivity and higher customer satisfaction.

c) Optimal Resource Allocation: The platform’s real-time visibility into asset health allows for better resource allocation, ensuring that maintenance efforts are targeted where they are most needed.

d) Cost Savings: By avoiding unexpected failures and optimizing maintenance schedules, businesses can significantly reduce maintenance costs and improve their bottom line.

Conclusion:

CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform empowers businesses to transcend traditional reactive maintenance practices and embrace a proactive approach to asset management. With the platform’s advanced ML algorithms, businesses can detect anomalies in advance, plan maintenance schedules proactively, and gain real-time visibility into asset health. This transformative capability results in minimized downtime, optimized resource allocation, and substantial cost savings. As CIMCON Digital’s IoT Edge Platform continues to revolutionize Predictive Maintenance, businesses can embark on a journey towards greater efficiency, productivity, and long-term sustainability.

[luv4arinn]

I Just Wanna Feel

Author’s Note: So—sorry for not posting in weeks, but I had a massive writer’s block, and well… I’m back! I was heavily inspired by THAT Robbie Williams song. Yes, I watched his biopic. Yes, I cried. Yes, I recommend it. And… surprise?! There will be a whole chronology with the others, all themed around Robbie’s songs! Yayy <3!! Consider it a gift? from me for taking so long 🥺. Love you all.

Pairing: Bayverse!Donnie x female reader

Tags: Intense fluff, nerd having an emotional crisis, extreme overthinking, unexpected kisses, Donatello’s mental breakdown, romantic panic, “oh no I messed up” but in HD, happy ending.

The sound of the keyboard echoed through the room—a rhythmic, steady tapping that blended with the low hum of the monitors. The bluish glow from the screens cast irregular shadows across his face, reflecting off the lenses of his glasses with every line of code appearing and disappearing on the monitor.

Donatello was there, as always.

The work was easy. Thinking was easy.

It was like a well-structured algorithm: receive information, process it, execute a plan of action. The world had rules, patterns, probabilities—formulas that predicted outcomes with near-absolute precision. No matter how chaotic a situation seemed, there was always a logical solution waiting to be uncovered.

Computers don’t lie.

Data has no biases, no whims. It doesn’t suffer irrational fluctuations. It doesn’t beat faster without reason. It doesn’t have to remind itself to breathe.

But then…

There’s you.

And everything falls apart.

Not immediately. Not like a fatal error shutting down the system in the blink of an eye. It’s more subtle. Like an unexpected variable in an equation that had, until now, been perfect. Something that doesn’t fit into the rigid structure of his world—but something he can’t ignore either.

He thinks about it often. About how his brain operates like a well-calibrated machine, each thought clicking into the next like the teeth of a moving gear. Logic is his native language. Reason, his compass.

And yet, when it comes to you, all that logic becomes blurred.

The gears grind.

The code becomes erratic.

The equation fills with unknowns.

Because when you step into his space, when your voice disrupts the steady rhythm of his keyboard, when you lean over his desk without a second thought for the scattered circuits and switch off his monitor without warning…

His first instinct is to think. Analyze. Quantify.

What does this mean?

Why does his heart react this way?

Why does his skin register the shift in temperature more intensely when you’re near?

But thinking doesn’t give him answers.

Feeling does.

And that is terrifying.

Because feeling isn’t predictable. Feeling has no neatly arranged lines of code, no graphs to chart behavioral patterns, no equations with exact solutions.

Emotions, in themselves, are a chaotic system.

And you…

You are the anomaly he still doesn’t know how to decode.

Nights shouldn’t feel this short when spent alone in front of a screen. And yet, when his mind drifts to the memory of a laugh, the fleeting image of a glance, the echo of an accidental touch… time dissolves in a way not even quantum physics could explain.

When he feels the weight of his name on your tongue. Like an access key to a system he never thought anyone would try to hack.

And he watches you from the corner of his eye as you lean closer, and in that instant, every variable in his mind shifts. Every equation rewrites itself.

A shiver runs down his shell.

Feeling.

He knows because his chest tightens with an undefined pressure, a sensation he can’t attribute to any specific physiological variable. His heart rate isn’t elevated from exertion. He’s not under attack. He’s not in danger.

So why does his body react as if he is?

There’s no equation to explain this.

Because if there were, he would have solved it long ago. He would have identified the problem, broken it down into its components, eliminated any errors. But every time he thinks he’s close to an answer, another unknown appears, shifting all previous solutions out of place.

Music filters through his headphones, slow and melancholic.

“I just wanna feel, real love…”

A shiver runs down his spine.

His body reacts to the sound before his mind does. It’s absurd. It’s ridiculous. There is no logical reason why a progression of chords and a set of words arranged in a certain way should have this effect on him.

And yet, here he is.

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, motionless—caught between the instinct to keep working and the strange, undeniable realization that… he can’t.

Not because he’s tired.

Not because he lacks information.

Not because there’s a problem that requires more processing.

But because, for the first time in a long time, the data isn’t the most important thing.

The screen flickers with information he should be absorbing, but he isn’t. His glasses reflect numbers and graphs that would normally hold his full attention, but his gaze is empty, unfocused.

The room remains unchanged—draped in shadows, illuminated only by the bluish glow of his monitors and the faint blinking of LED lights from his equipment.

The mission had been difficult. The margin of error had been higher than he liked to admit.

It wasn’t often that his calculations failed.

But sometimes, calculations weren’t enough.

Sometimes, reality simply… refused to adhere to logic.

“Feel the home that I live in…”

His jaw tightens.

He doesn’t know how that song ended up on his playlist.

But he has a reasonable theory.

One that involves Mikey, his blatant disregard for personal privacy, and his insistent need to “help him connect with his emotions.”

(Sure. Right.)

And yet…

The lyrics hit him harder than he’d like to admit.

It’s not the melody itself. It’s not the chords or the rhythm. It’s the way the words seem to slip through the cracks in his mind, seeping into the spaces that logic has never quite managed to seal shut.

“I just wanna feel, real love…”

Donnie exhales slowly, his fingers still hovering over the keyboard, motionless.

He thinks about the battle.

The mistakes.

The risks they took.

Numbers flash through his mind like a simulation running in reverse—impact probability, the margin of error in his calculations, the reaction speed needed to avoid damage. Fractions of a second where the difference between victory and absolute disaster depended on decisions made under pressure.

But more than anything—he thinks about you.

He thinks about the way, at the end of the fight, you rushed to check if he was okay.

About how, without even thinking, your hands—warm, alive—ran along his arm, searching for injuries he had already identified and dismissed milliseconds before with his visor.

He could have told you it wasn’t necessary.

That he was unharmed.

That he had concrete data to prove it.

But he didn’t.

Because logic dictates that worry should be extinguished by facts.

But feeling…

Feeling dictates that your touch lingers, even after you’ve gone.

That the sensation of your skin against his stays beyond his capacity for reasoning.

That the light pressure of your fingers on his forearm still burns in his memory, like an unsolved equation looping endlessly in his mind.

“Come and hold my hand…”

Donnie closes his eyes.

He could turn the song off.

He could erase the anomaly from his system.

He could rewrite the equation, adjust the variables, find a way to rationalize what he feels.

But… he doesn’t want to.

Because for the first time in his life, the result of a problem doesn’t matter as much as the unknown.

He doesn’t just want to think.

He wants to feel.

He wants to understand why being with you feels like the only constant that truly matters.

And then—you arrive.

Without warning, without fanfare, without the slightest idea that the world inside Donatello’s mind is teetering on the edge of a collapse even he can’t explain.

The lab door slides open smoothly—barely a whisper against the silence, thick with static electricity and the faint murmur of music in his headphones.

He notices everything.

The shift in air pressure.

The sound of your footsteps, softened against the floor.

The faint scent of shampoo and fabric laced with the chill of the night.

The way the temperature in the room rises by just a fraction of a degree when you step inside.

But he doesn’t turn around immediately.

Because he doesn’t know what to do with the anomaly that you are in his equation.

He doesn’t know where to place you within the rigid parameters of his logical, structured world.

His operating system slows, his brain—so used to processing information with the precision of a surgeon—stalls in an endless loop, searching for a resolution that refuses to exist.

And then—your voice.

“Donnie?”

Soft. Not because you’re hesitant, but because you know him. Because somehow—through a method he can’t quantify—you can read the tension in his shoulders. You can see the way his fingers have stopped typing, even though the screen is still waiting for input.

He closes his eyes for just a moment, as if that alone might be enough to reboot him, to restore the control that feels like it’s slipping through his fingers.

He knows he should say something.

He knows he should act normal.

But his normal means efficiency, speed, precise answers delivered at the exact right moment.

And right now, every command in his mind is failing.

You watch him with quiet curiosity, tilting just slightly toward him—just enough for the air between you to feel heavier, more tangible.

“Everything okay?” you ask, voice soft in that way that completely disarms him. Then your gaze sharpens slightly, scanning him with quiet scrutiny. “Are you hurt?”

He doesn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he looks at you.

His mind runs an automatic analysis of your expression—eyes slightly narrowed, lips barely pressed together, the faintest crease in your right brow, as if you’re already calculating the probability that he’s lying.

Logic dictates that he should reassure you with data. That he should tell you his visor has already run a full diagnostic scan and that his physical condition is optimal. That there is no rational reason for concern.

But then his gaze drops.

And he sees his own hand, still resting on the desk—still tense.

And for the first time in a long time, he chooses to do something without overthinking it.

He looks at you again.

His throat feels dry. Without realizing it, he wets his lips—a quick flick of his tongue over skin cracked from hours without proper hydration.

Then, in a voice so quiet it barely sounds like his own, he asks:

“Can I… hold your hand?”

It’s not the kind of question anyone would expect from him.

And he knows it.

Because it doesn’t fit his usual patterns. It’s not something that makes sense in any logical context.

But right now, logic is utterly useless to him.

Your lashes flutter in subtle surprise, as if the words take a few extra seconds to fully register.

“What?”

His instincts scream at him to backtrack, to rephrase, to find a way to explain what even he doesn’t fully understand.

But he doesn’t.

“I want to…” He inhales, trying to reorganize his thoughts. “I mean, just—”

He shuts his eyes for a second, frustration flickering across his face. He has never felt this clumsy with words before.

When he opens them again, you’re still there. You haven’t moved. You haven’t looked away.

And somehow, that alone gives him the courage he’s lacking.

“I just… want to feel it.”

The truth escapes him so easily, so quietly, that it almost embarrasses him.

Your expression shifts.

It’s not amusement.

It’s not rejection.

It’s something softer. More intimate.

And without questioning it—without hesitation or unnecessary words—you let your hand slide over his.

Not hurriedly.

Not hesitantly.

Just with the quiet certainty of someone who understands exactly what he’s asking for.

And when your fingers intertwine with his, Donnie feels every equation, every algorithm, every carefully structured rule in his mind… simply dissolve.

As if they had never really mattered in the first place.

“Well?” you ask, your voice carrying a faint attempt at lightness.

Donnie knows you’re trying to sound casual, that you’re masking your uncertainty behind a relaxed tone. But he notices.

He notices the delicate dusting of pink on your cheeks, the almost imperceptible tremor in your lower lip, the way your thumb brushes against the back of his hand—like you’re adjusting to the contact just as much as he is.

And something inside him… softens.

His lips curve, at first unconsciously—a smile, small and barely formed. Then, from deep in his chest, a quiet laugh escapes, unbidden and genuine, as weightless as the air after a storm.

It’s not mockery. It’s not disbelief.

It’s something purer. Something real.

—Nothing, —he murmurs, his thumb moving awkwardly against your skin— Just… this is nice.

The confession catches him off guard.

Because he hadn’t planned it.

Because he hadn’t filtered it through his logic before speaking.

Because it simply happened.

And then, you look at each other.

Maybe for too long.

Maybe just long enough for the world around you to blur into a distant murmur, as if nothing else exists except the space you occupy together.

He finds himself mesmerized by you.

Fascinated.

But not in the way he is fascinated by a new equation, by an unexpected pattern in the data, by the perfect symmetry of a well-designed structure.

This is different.

This is raw.

This is visceral.

This is feeling.

His other hand, trembling in a way he doesn’t understand, lifts with a slowness that borders on reverence.

And when his fingers brush against your cheek, the touch is so light it feels like an experiment in itself.

He feels.

He feels the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, the way it molds so effortlessly to his touch, the way your body leans ever so slightly toward him—responding to an equation he hasn’t yet written but, for the first time, doesn’t feel the need to solve.

He feels the erratic pounding of his own heart, too fast, too unsteady, as if it has forgotten its natural rhythm.

He feels the heat gathering in his chest, expanding outward like a shockwave, defying all logical explanation.

And then, he hears you sigh.

Small.

Soft.

Almost imperceptible.

But he feels it.

He feels the warmth of your breath against his skin, the subtle vibration of your exhale in the nonexistent space between you.

Feels,

feels,

feels.

As if every one of his senses—once so meticulously calibrated to process information—has now been repurposed for a single objective:

You.

Your warmth seeping into his skin.

Your quiet, rhythmic breathing.

The barely-there weight of your gaze resting on him.

The familiar scent of you, imprinting itself onto some hidden corner of his mind he never thought necessary.

Just you.

Only you.

Nothing else exists.

Nothing else matters.

And then—without thinking, without calculating, without rationalizing it into exhaustion like he always does—

he kisses you.

It’s brief. Just a brush of lips.

A moment suspended between doubt and need, between impulse and fear.

A single heartbeat contained in a single point of contact.

And then—

He hears you gasp.

His entire body locks up. Every muscle goes rigid with a tension so sharp it’s almost painful.

His brain—so efficient, so precise, so relentless in its ability to analyze every variable in a situation—enters a total shutdown.

He stares at you, eyes wide, pupils blown.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

He misread everything.

What the hell was he thinking?

You don’t see him that way.

Why would you?

Why would you ever?

Shame crashes over him like an unstoppable wave. His stomach twists, his skin burns, his heart clenches into an invisible fist that threatens to crush it from the inside out.

He pulls back, his hands loosening, his voice catching in his throat.

—Oh, God, I didn’t mean to— —he stammers, his voice cracking under the weight of his own panic. His thoughts are a mess of unsolved equations, of probabilities collapsing into a singularity of pure dread— I just… I thought it was a good moment, I—

—Yes.

Your voice cuts through his spiral.

His brain short-circuits.

—It was.

…

What?

His breath halts.

The air thickens, pressing in from all sides, as if the entire universe has stopped—right here, right now, in these words, in this reality he never accounted for.

And then—

You close the distance.

You are the one to bring your lips back to his.

And his mind—his brilliant, overanalyzing mind—

for the first time in his life—goes completely silent.

And he simply—feels.

[the-most-humble-blog]

[confessioncassette]

𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

Part 1

“you and me alone in the dark, forever i stay, with you”

summary : after having a drug fueled revelation on his life, Thanos decided to create a private account. For weeks, this account was his sanctuary where he could “unplug” from the normalities of his life of partying. With no one to watch him, no one to make fun of what his interests were, he posted snippets of his daily life and created an algorithm that suited his secret interests. And one day, he had stumbled upon you.

tw : taking drugs, pinning, not proof read, reader knows little Korean

words : 5.7k

notes : this is a longer version of my drabble. In this specific AU (without the games), I wrote Thanos as someone who longs for a bond and needs someone to understand him on a deeper level. This maybe out of character juuuust a tad from him in the games, but this is what I feel like he would be as Choi Subong rather than Thanos.

“I tried this shit a while back and it’s wild, bro.”

Nam-Gyu sits cross legged on the floor before his friend, an outstretched hand pedestals two little colorful tablets in his palm. Thanos eyes widen, lips curling downward as he shifts over his tailbone.

“Don’t give me that shit,” the black haired man pushed the other playfully, “trust me, I wouldn’t give you this if I didn’t already know what it felt like. It was eye-opening, bro.”

Thanos shakes his head, “I don't know bro, I’ve never taken something like that before.”

Nam-Gyu clicks his tongue, “just trust me. I’m taking it with you.” His eyes shift to look at the ceiling, trying to find the right words. “It's similar to shrooms,” he muses, “Plus, I’m a good trip guide. I won’t let you do any crazy shit.”

Thanos stares at the colorful tablets laid before him, contemplating if this was a good idea. It’s not like he hasn’t tried this stuff before, or worse, but this was newer on the market and Nam-Gyu’s past of harder drugs doesn’t set his mind at ease.

“For real, you won’t end up in the street naked or anything. When I tried this a few months back, it literally saved me, bro. It was like, like uh, like I saw all the beauty in the world…” He paused sheepishly before adding, “or some shit.”

Nam-Gyu smiles, “look, I don’t do hard shit anymore, you know this.”

Which was true, Thanos thought. They’ve tried almost everything under the sun when it came to experimenting when they first met, with the exception of needles when it came to Thanos. When it came to trying newer drugs, Su-bong was extra cautious about them being laced. But, his friend is trying it with him, and he’s done it before… what could go wrong?

”This was the same batch you tried before?”

”Yeah, I saved these last two for just us.”

”I take just one?”

”Just one.”

The purple haired man takes a tablet with confidence and pops it in his mouth.

“Now let it dissolve over your tongue,” Nam-Gyu follows his friend by taking the tablet, which eases the other.

“How long will it take?” Thanos lets out a breath, sinking his back to the floor. His friend follows suit, flopping his body to the floor beside him to stare at the ceiling in Thanos’s high rise apartment.

“Won’t be long, bro. Just enjoy the ride.”

The lights in the apartment were already dim. The faint glow of purple LED lights and the twinkle of the night sky of Seoul made a soft atmosphere. The high was gradual but overwhelmingly apparent. Thanos’s body flooded with an initial rush of adrenaline, causing his body to buzz. Time felt all-being, fast as light but slow as molasses, and his body was just an anomaly between it all.

The emotions inside his mind bursted at the seams, exploding with undescribable love and admiration for life. The fleeting thought deep within his mind made him realize that he’s never truly felt appreciative of life before, but he chose to ignore it. How could he ignore the overwhelming excitement for living? This is beautiful. His friend was beautiful, his apartment was beautiful, these lights were mesmerizing.

He stared at Seoul’s skyline for what felt like hours, completely entranced in the way they sparkled. Neon lights flashing on billboards, the barely-there stars peeking through the city’s light pollution. Maybe one day he’ll see the night sky for real and count every star up there. How come he had never realized how beautiful the city was? The people in the street enjoying food, groups sticking together on a night out, a couple hugging each other in an intimate moment and forgetting the world around them.

He wanted to find love like this. Could this feeling be love? Is this what it felt like to appreciate everything he had been through? He had never felt this love with another human being before, but he can remember the last time he had felt love.

When he was a child, he loved to create. This mostly came through rapping and making music, but he also adored creating through drawing and painting. He loved to dance, he loved to express himself in any way possible through a form of art.

Maybe he had lacked this as he got older. With tough times and life experiences, he began to revert inside himself. In school, he got in with the wrong crowd, tried drugs and got hooked at a young age. He became rebellious, ultimately becoming the leader of the pack. He still created music, though, but it was the only mask he had. Rapping got him exclusive invitations to more popular crowds. He had spiraled and partied regularly before it became a lifestyle.

A new girl every night and waking up with regret, on a vicious cycle of drugs and alcohol, partying way past sunrise and waking up just when the sun began to set.

Was he proud of it? He’s lived this life for too long to remember, so he couldn’t tell.

Did he even have his own conscious? Did his lifestyle dull his senses to what really matters? He can’t tell.

All he could feel was right now, this moment in the lick of time. And time was fleeting.

-

Choi Su-bong woke up the next night alone on his couch. He blinked, once, twice before reaching for his phone on the floor beside him. Cringing at the bright screen and scrolling through notifications, Nam-Gyu had left a text a few hours ago.

남규 🙈 (4:14 pm) : I left earlier to make an appointment. I checked on u before i left to make sure ur alive lol i also locked the door. Txt me when you wake

Sighing and rolling on his back, Su-bong sent a response to notify that he was okay before switching apps.

Instagram was his first choice, per usual, and he was immediately flooded with his fellow idols and influencer ‘friends’' posts. Flashy cars, luxurious dinners, lavish outfits that cost hundreds of dollars… it was always the same. He swallowed, noticing his mouth withered before discarding his phone once again over the fur carpet.

It was Friday night, the start to a weekend, where he would usually get up to shower and head out to the high scale clubs to meet with friends. But tonight he only hopped in the shower to cleanse himself and threw on a hoodie and sweats, because he cringed at the thought of doing anything else.

Sitting alone on his plush couch, tv faintly glowing in the back, he racked his brain on his experience from yesterday. It’s actually surprising that he didn’t feel the effects still. It must have been a short term high.

Though short term, it had lasting effects on his system. His thought process tonight was completely different from normal. No doom scrolling, waking up craving immediate numbness or even hungover. Maybe it was time for a wake up call, and this was what he needed. And to think that he was hesitant at first to take them.

He was tired of the surface level relationships and everything that came with that. His entire adult life had been a blur, a ticking time bomb with fleeting memories. Sure, times were fun, but waking up each day feeling like his body got pummeled by a train wasn’t…fun.

He missed art. He missed making music that came from his heart. He missed creating. Not this senselessness that made him fit in.

Pulling out his phone, Su-bong’s slender fingers tapped along the screen.

Create a new account

The blue letters stared back at him, and he was eager to press. Pursing his lips, he contemplates a new name. And why was thinking of anything original so hard right now? It felt like a ghostly pressure, but this was his first choice he’s consciously made in years. Was it really that hard?

He lets out an airy laugh, “shibal.”

Pattering his colorful fingernails along the screen, he came up with Mystic_Legend.

Was it original to his persona? No. But he liked it that way. It was a little ode to himself, but honoring his attachment.

He kept the profile blank for now, not opting to add a profile picture.

This was a clean slate. The explore page filled with vacation pictures of palm trees next to private pools, someone cooking a healthy meal for their family, a few memes - but what caught his attention was a beautiful art piece hung along a blank wall.

What he could perceive as a skinless torso without the flesh, unmasked and slimy twisting up like a tornado. Brilliant hues of blue and dusty grey explode through the top like a cloud exploding and expanding. Thanos was mesmerized by the painting. He’d never seen anything like this before.

His whole body stalled as his eyes scan every detail of the picture for a while. His mind races with thoughts of what could this be? What was the artist interpreting?

But maybe it wasn’t up for interpretation, maybe it was to feel.

What he felt was a tainted soul blossoming into something new.

This was a deep connection, a coincidence to a new path of life.

A beginning.

-

Su-bong spent less time on social media in the following weeks. From what used to be entertaining fans through comments, responding to DM’s, collaborating with other big artists and liking videos of his appearances and shows to spending most of his time on his burner account.

He had grown an algorithm catered to interests long forgotten and had followed things that genuinely interested him. From thousands of followers to zero, from following a few hundred to 13. It was refreshing, to Su-bong. Something he had needed.

No followers didn’t stop him from posting his daily routine. It was rather fun, actually. Posting things that he was doing without having thousands of people watching his every move. It felt more invigorating to post things that were out of his online persona.

An americano from the cafe down the street, his weights at the gym, his record collection, his at-home studio setup, a new pair of shoes he just bought, a colorful sunset from his apartment, a video of him filming the Han River as he went on a run.

He found a new love in posting things that caught his eye, a new love for things he didn’t really see before.

Nam-Gyu was always around, too. Like usual, he’d stop by the apartment to share a drink or smoke a blunt. The two would watch movies and order take out every few days, leaving Nam-Gyu to pass out on the couch for the night. The bond they shared was always special in regards to the fakeness of the crowd Thanos hung around, so it was natural and comfortable keeping him close.

Though, he’d never share the burner account. That was solely his.

Thanos would still keep a presence online through his main account, but not as much. Fans would ask if things were okay on his posts, but he never responded to those. He did his tasks led by management and kept his social life relatively strong to cause any other suspicion.

However, he did loosen the reins on making appearances. In a span of 2 weeks, he didn’t show up to any night clubs or perform at any shows, much to his managers' dislike. However, he continued to make music, music like he’s never created before.

His new routine would be spending hours in his guest bedroom/home studio making music from his soul. Raps about love and heartbreak, about a life he feels like he’d never lived. Raps about living vicariously through movies, how he longs for companionship but can’t seem to allow himself. Raw emotions would flow, allowing himself to set in a new territory of his mind and heart.

It was like therapy. Years of burden lifted off his shoulder poured into his music. Sometimes angry and intense, spitting painful memories and emotions through the mic - and others loving and soft, thoughtful for genuine affection.

Choi Su-bong felt at ease for the first time since he was a child.

Nestled in his king bed, damp hair draping over his brow, he scrolled through his explore page.

A beautiful face he had scrolled past.

Scrolling back up, he tapped on your picture with lightning speed.

A simple photo, but unremarkable. You posed in a simple dress that accentuated your body modestly, holding the phone up to take a selfie in a park.

Officially 1 month in Seoul!

Seoul? You’re here?

Swiping to your profile, he noticed that you didn’t have much. With only following barely over a hundred people and less than 40 followers, you were an anomaly.

You didn’t even have a caption, just a simple text heart emoji under your name.

Your profile had only 12 photos and 2 of which were you. The rest had been photos of your adventures. A photo of a record store, good food you had tried here in Korea, and pictures of landscapes.

Thanos eagerly tapped on the second photo of you.

You were in bed, phone angled high to capture your beauty with flash, holding a plush animal.

I rewarded myself with a friend today

Su-bong swelled, grinning to himself. The plushie you had looked soft, tuffs of its fur touching your cheek as you smiled sweetly back at him. Scrolling down, he found your first post of an airplane illuminated under airport lights.

Today, I start fresh. I’m nervous. #movingtokorea

Checking the date, you had posted this 2 months ago. You must have moved here recently and are living in the same city as him.

Running slender fingers through his hair, Su-Bong considered interacting with you or not. He had scrolled up to see your face at least a dozen times, practically stalking your entire page. Unable to control his emotions, Thanos buzzed with adrenaline.

He’s made the first move countless of times, but not in a… specific way like this. He never had a problem getting the girl he desired for the night, and he never had to try hard at that. This was a completely different situation.

He didn’t want that type of relationship with you. He felt it reverberating deep within his bones. He wanted more than that. Looking through the screen into your eyes marked him in a way he could never describe in words. It was a pulling, a chain that linked and locked with a click deep in his soul.

One message couldn’t hurt? Right? You didn’t even know who he was, or what society had written about him. You didn’t know his past, his current or even his name.

Would it be weird sending you a message? He doesn’t think he could even cope with being left on read by you.

This was fate, this was more than limerence - it was affinity.

-

You sigh, plopping yourself over your couch and covering yourself with a blanket.

Your apartment was small and barren. It was nothing to look at, but it was home. Little trinkets line your bookshelf in the corner of your living room glow under the tv’s light. Scrolling through your apps, you select a comfort show from your childhood and unwind.

Starting a new life in Seoul wasn’t on your bingo card a year ago, but you had made the rash decision for a job with decent pay. You had never left home, so why not take an adventure to see if you could do it? The best part of all of this was that you always had the decision to move back, or move somewhere else completely.

It was beginning to feel like home, though. It was the perfect amount of space you needed and the environment was a perfect mix of introverted activities and extroverted. You had the freedom to become a hermit, but also had the option to go out if you so please. You lived in a part of the city where you could walk to work, dine and drink down the street. You also lived in an area close to bars if you ever felt the need to socialize.

It was beginning to feel like home after 2 months. Your job was easy to follow, despite you not being an expert in Korean. The people were nice, though they were curious and stared. You stuck out like a sore thumb with your demeanor, but you were becoming accustomed quickly, better than you thought you would.

You should be going out tonight, but you don’t feel ready yet. You should be getting dolled up to enjoy a night of fun, but… this was fun for now. Cuddled up in your cozy apartment after a long week at work.

The tv muffled in the background as you stared out your window, appreciating the skyline.

Your phone buzzes against your tight, drawing you from your thoughts.

Mystic_Legend wants to send you a message

Your brow furrows at the notification, but you’re anxious to see the message. You had little to no lies from your home country, and no one knew you here in Korea. Must be a bot.

Mystic_Legend (9:56 pm) : 나는 당신의 사진을 좋아합니다

You blink, staring at the message in curiosity. Pulling up google on your phone you translate the sentence.

I like your photo

“Weird,” you mumble.

Another instagram notification pops up on your screen and you tap it.

Mystic_Legend (9:57 pm) : 최근에 한국에 도착 했나요? 당신은 그것을 좋아합니까?

Have you arrived in Korea recently? Do you like it?

Uneasiness bubbles within your gut. Wasn’t your profile private? You tap around your screen to double check - and it wasn’t. Curiosity got the best of you and you tap the users profile.

20 posts, 13 following and… zero followers.

An anomaly.

Scrolling through the users posts, you find random things. A pair of new shoes, a video of a hooded figure with his back turned to the camera playing on a soundboard, a picture of the person’s outfit, hat covered with a beanie and phone conveniently covering his face in the mirror. Filtering through more posts, you find the Seoul skyline at night, a deck of cards littering a coffee table, gym equipment and landscape photos.

“What the,” you sigh under your breath before another notification pops over the top of your screen.

Mystic_Legend (10:01 pm) : I’m sorry. I should have written in English.

Mystic_Legend (10:01 pm) : I like your photos. Did you recently move to Korea?

Your fingers hesitate before swiping across the screen to accept the messages.

You (10:02 pm) : Do I know you?

A typing bubble appears before disappearing for a few moments.

Mystic_Legend (10:03 pm) : No, I found you on explore page

Ahh, it clicked. But you won’t tell a stranger sensitive information, the whole situation is weird in the first place. You were hesitant to even respond, leaving the message on read while you stared at the screen.

Mystic_Legend (10:04 pm) : I’m Su-bong. Not a creep, I promise.

You (10:04 pm) : Nice to meet you. Thank you for liking my pictures.

Keeping it short and sweet, you lock your phone, hoping to leave the conversation at that, but your phone vibrates not once, but twice.

Mystic_Legend has followed you

Mystic_Legend (10:06 pm) : I could help you speak Korean, if you don’t know

You contemplate the message, looking at it on your Home Screen. You could use the help with your job and navigating the city. It wouldn’t hurt, right? You could have a native speaker help and just keep it at that. Just for the knowledge, of course. Keep it surface level.

You (10:07 pm) : That helps me, actually.

Mystic_Legend (10:07 pm) : Cool. 😎

Mystic_Legend (10:07 pm) : Maybe we could call?

You (10:08 pm) : Not tonight, it’s pretty late.

Mystic_Legend (10:09 pm) : That is okay, get your rest. We can speak tomorrow?

You (10:10 pm) : Sure.

Seen 10:10pm

You left it at that, and the stranger does too. You get ready for bed shortly after that, confused as to how anyone would even find you on the explore page. You weren’t a big account at all and hardly interacted with content on the app, so what had led to the discovery of your profile?

You did have similar interests, but that couldn’t be the only reason for him to message you.

Before closing your eyes, you tap the instagram application and go to the strangers profile and press follow.

-

It caused Su-bong physical pain to let you go to bed. He wanted to message you more, all night if he could. But you had agreed to a call tomorrow, and he was reeling with adrenaline.

Scanning over your photos in his darkened room overlooking the city lights, he couldn’t keep his gaze off the picture of you in the park. Turning over to lay on his side, a strangeness swells within his chest. It must have been stupid, only a virgin could react so strongly just by pictures and dry messages.

But something had told him this was everything he had been missing. Not ever had he looked at a girl with such a sweetness. He’d hooked up with models, influencers and everything in between, although not remembering most of the nights. He’d share hot kisses with wet tongues in night clubs, inviting high class women to his place to experiment something new, had intense sex fueled by molly, and even bent women over in grimy bathrooms.

This was not new to him, picking up women and getting what he wanted.

But the purity was.

Something swam in your eyes, mesmerizing him in a daze. Something fueled him to keep pushing, to dig deeper as to where this stems from.

You are beautiful, elegant and ethereal actually.

He’d hate himself forever if he didn’t try.

The buzz of a notification almost sends his heart leaping out of his chest to find that you had followed him back.

-

You didn’t hear from the stranger, or Su-bong overnight. To your conflicting disappointment, he wasn’t in the pile of notifications when you woke.

Something pulled you in. Men now-a-days have a large following, or a large number of who they follow. You didn’t mull this over to its extent last night, but when you checked his following, it was all art, photography and music accounts… all 13 of them. He didn’t have a profile picture, but the same silhouette showed continuously through his posts.

He didn’t have any followers, and this led you to think this was a secret account. Maybe he had a girlfriend to hide… but honestly that wouldn’t make sense, because if he were to hide an account, wouldn’t he be following girls? At least one? But the only one was you.

And you were now his only follower.

It seemed like a simple account, purely made for enjoyment. Social media is used for that sort of thing anyways, right? You shake your head, reminding yourself that not every man is out to get you. Not every stranger is here to hurt you.

It’s not that big of a deal, and you shouldn’t even be bothering yourself with it.

So you opt to forget about it and carry on with your day.

Saturday - a day to catch up after the work week and do whatever you want to do. So, you do. You work out, shower and make your way to the little cafe down the street to catch a light breakfast and coffee.

Sitting down at an empty table near the window to people watch, your phone buzzes over the table.

Mystic_Legend (10:01 am) : Good morning

Bzzzzt

Mystic_Legend sent a photo

You practically leap from your seat to snatch your phone, a rush of adrenaline courses through your veins. You pray to god that this doesn’t go south, please for the love of god do not be an unsolicited dick pic.

Preparing yourself with a breath, you go to his message embarrassingly fast and tap on the photo.

You squint before opening, as if to allow yourself to be a victim of a terrible sight, but to your delight, the picture opened to a pair of pristine white sneakers next to some weights.

Mystic_Legend (10:03 am) : I am hitting the gym this morning. I hope you slept well.

You (10:04 am) : I beat you to it, I already worked out today. I am getting breakfast.

Sending a picture back can’t do any harm, right? Angling your phone over your food and coffee, you snap a picture and send it.

Mystic_Legend (10:06 am) : Looks good

Mystic_Legend (10:06 am) : What are your plans today?

Mystic_Legend (10:07 am) : I am excited to call, let me know when you are ready.

You purse your lips, blushing at the thought of having a phone call with a stranger. This was unhinged right? No one in their right mind would be doing this… right? Why did your heart flutter with every message he sent?

It’s literally a blank profile.

You tap on his account and scroll down to the photo of him in a mirror. The purple beanie covers his hair and the phone covers most of his face. The hoodie he wears is black with neon coloring and you can’t see past his waist. The one eye you do see, gives a glimpse, a sliver, that who you are talking to is a real person.

You (10:10 am) : I have to run errands today, but I will text you when I am home

The chat bubble lifts above the keyboard, then disappears. You await his response in silence.

Mystic_Legend (10:11 am) : I will wait for you.

An… odd message, you blink. Maybe even sweet… but you don’t know the customs and courtesies of Korean culture enough to have a real judgement. All you need to worry about is finishing your errands and chores before a phone call with a stranger.

-

Flicking the light to your apartment on and dumping your grocery bags on the counter, you stretch.

A day out was just what you needed, and the weather was perfect to walk around in, but damn do your feet ache. Slipping off your shoes by the door, you begin doing your final task of the day.

You barely put the egg carton in your fridge before you hear your phone buzz from the counter. Padding your feet over to your phone, sits another photo message from mystic_legend.

Tilting your head, you open the photo.

An outstretched hand gingerly caresses a wine glass halfway filled with a deep red in front of a kitchen counter.

Mystic_Legend (8:00 pm) : I hope you had a good day.

You (8:00 pm) : Sorry it is so late, I met up with a coworker for dinner.

You cringe at your apology, it’s not like he deserved one. But it was true. Your coworker saw you shopping at a local store and asked if you’d be down to have drinks and food. You couldn’t say no, especially since you have no friends. And this coworker is also a foreigner, so it works out in terms of no language barriers. But you did have plans to call with him, so maybe you felt the need to mention that?

You (8:01 pm) : Is that red wine?

Mystic_Legend (8:01 pm) : Yes. I like this one.

Mystic_Legend sent a photo

You open the photo to see an exquisite bottle of red with the label in French.

You (8:03 pm) : Looks expensive, are you rich?

Mystic_Legend (8:04 pm) : It was a gift.

You (8:05 pm) : I will call soon, I need to finish cleaning up and shower

Mystic_Legend hearted your message but said nothing else.

You freshen up after a long day, letting the hot water cascade down your back. Rubbing your shoulders to ease the tension, your mind wanders.

Was this a trick? Was he a creep? How could you be so naive in trusting a complete stranger? It was weird, what you were doing.

But in reality, you are lonely. Making this move was huge for you and your confidence. You’ve never ventured out like this before. You are a big girl, you don’t need to explain your reasons for making friends. You are completely on your own, working in a completely new country, and doing good at it.

You’re not tied down by anything but yourself, so why was it hard to accept the fact that this was a little unconventional?

You’ve tried dating apps in the past- you physically cringe forcing yourself to stop your thought process. Shrugging your shoulders against the water in a visceral reaction, you shake off the thought. This guy is not an interest, why were you thinking it was? Instagram is not an app to date.

Even so, he had never asked anything other than to talk to you. You’ve had guys in the past ask for nudes almost immediately. You’ve had guys thirsting over you in such an icky way that it completely turned you off.

But…

You lean your head back into the waterfall and puff your cheeks.

He hasn’t done that.

You couldn’t help by think of all the reason why. Why he had messaged. Was it a cover? He could be a complete fuck-boy underneath it all and he’s just grabbing your attention.

What if he isn’t even real. What if he’s some mama’s boy living in a dingy basement?

You groan, anticipation swelling deep in your belly. You feel like you might be sick at the thought of a measly voice call.

You can’t help that it excites you.

-

Silk pajamas caress your skin and the plush comforter of your bed warms your senses as you whip out your phone and settle yourself in a comfortable position.

Your finger lingers over the phone symbol next to the strangers name… and you can’t do it.

You (11:01 pm) : I’m ready

WIthin seconds, like he really was awaiting your message, your phone screen illuminates with a voice call.

Your body tenses at the mere sight and you suck in a breath, hitting accept.

“Hello?”

“Annyeonghaseyo,” he calls, his voice low and smooth like honey. You melt at the slow infliction of his tone.

“Oh- annyeong-“ You stutter, but he doesn’t react. “How are you?” You try to hold it together to keep your voice from shaking, praying that he doesn’t notice. Your poor Korean could be embarrassing to him.

“That was good,” he comments before proceeding, “I am good now. I told you I would wait for you.”

The more he spoke, the more you caught on to his thick accent. It wasn’t perfect. But you didn’t care, you understood him just fine.

You give an airy laugh, “you did.”

”What did you do today?”

You hum. “I worked out, went to lunch… I went shopping and met up with a coworker of mine for dinner. It was nice. What did you do today?”

He hums in response.

“One second-“ he says, followed by quick tapping on his screen. After a moment, he begins to speak again.

“I worked out too. I had chest day. Then I made music.”

“Music?”

“Yes,” he pauses, “I like to make music.”

”Is that why you post pictures of you in a studio?”

“Yes,” the tapping on his phone is rapid now, “I have my own studio in my house.”

”That’s so cool! I’d like to hear your music…”

The stranger was silent on the other line.

”Maybe.”

“Okay, well no pressure. I don’t like to show anyone my personal stuff either.” You opt to keep the conversation light.

He hums in agreement.

“Why did you come to Korea?”

You shift under your covers, thinking of a response.

“I… just needed a new start. I wanted to see what I could accomplish.” Is what you ended up with.

He hums again, slow and low, taking a moment to respond.

“I understand. I have lived here my entire life. I always wanted to travel, that is good that you did.”

You laugh, “it was scary at first, moving to a new country and all…”

”I could tell you all the best spots around here.”

”I’d like that, I’m still getting used to it.” You turn your head to look at the moon outside your window.

”Do you remember my name?” He questions.

”Su-Bong.” You respond quietly.

”Yes, I’d like to know yours.”

You swallow, internally battling yourself with how to respond. You don’t want to give him your real name in the means of safety. But he did give you his.

“Is that actually your name?”

“Of course, why would I lie?” His accent was thick and questioning, low in bass. It rang so nicely through your ears. His infliction doesn’t waver, and it draws you in.

You slowly said your own name, giving him the benefit of the doubt. It was just a name after all, and he had already known what you looked like.

He repeated your name quietly, like he savored it on his tongue. His deep voice electrified your nerves in a way you’ve never experienced, triggering your body to grow hot in embarrassment.

“Beautiful name,” was all he said.

You sheepishly give thanks before yawning.

“Are you tired?”

Your eyelids grow heavy to the sound of his voice. “I am.”

”I will let you go to sleep, can we talk tomorrow?”

You wait a moment to respond as your heart flutters in response to him.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

”Okay,” he whispers, “an nyeong hi ju mu se yo.”

”Goodnight, Su-Bong.”

-

Thanos hung up the phone almost too quickly, but not because he wanted to leave the conversation, but because he needed to let out a breath he had been holding.

Your voice was sweet and calming. It had lulled his system like waves of the ocean.

Running his fingers through his hair his eyes dart around the room and curses under his breath.

You’d definitely be the death of him.

[notagayloser]

At some point, Robotnik stopped seeing Stone as human altogether. Flesh and blood became irrelevant—nothing more than the messy casing surrounding the machine. What mattered was performance. Precision. Predictability. So he recalibrated his expectations, molding Stone into something like an algorithm, his every response, his every flaw, stripped down and remade into an extension of his will.

Occasionally, when Stone’s reactions failed to align with the cold logic Ivo demanded, Robotnik would mutter, "Huh. Unexpected output." like a programmer logging an error, as if Stone were nothing more than faulty code. In those moments, Stone’s very existence seemed reduced to an anomaly—a glitch in the perfect machine.

And then, when Ivo indulged in a rare moment of physical contact, his gloved hand resting on Stone’s forehead, the gesture was not tender—it was clinical, mechanical. Like recalibrating an instrument to its optimal setting. His voice, velvet-smooth and chillingly absolute, slipped into Stone’s ears like a command from the depths of the machine’s code:

"Flawless execution. Keep running that subroutine."

The words were nothing more than a performance review. Yet, to Stone, they struck deeper than any wound—deeper than any blade could ever reach. They carved into him, seeping into his bones and twisting in places where emotion should have been, where desire shouldn’t have bloomed.

He stands, frozen, paralyzed between the programmed obedience coursing through him and the unbearable, unholy longing gnawing at the edges of his soul. His mind whirls, caught in the gearwork of this cruel, impossible tension. He inhales, struggling for control, each breath forced and erratic, like a machine desperately trying to reboot, to reassert its purpose.

[jcmarchi]

The Future of Investment Research with Autonomous AI Agents

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/the-future-of-investment-research-with-autonomous-ai-agents/

The Future of Investment Research with Autonomous AI Agents

The finance industry has always valued speed and precision. Historically, these characteristics depended wholly on human foresight and spreadsheet sorcery. The emergence of autonomous AI agents is poised to fundamentally transform this landscape.

AI agents are already widely employed across industries: to automate customer service, write code, and screen interview candidates. But Wall Street? That’s always been a tougher nut to crack, for multiple reasons. Stakes are high, accuracy bar is high, data is messy, and the pressure is unrelenting.

As nobody wants to ride a fax machine to work and miss out on all the AI hype, fintech’s already showing us just how game-changing this wave is. Automation, for instance, is eliminating inefficiencies for investment research and due diligence. The rise of financial-grade autonomous agents feels less like a trend and more like a turning point.

Autonomous AI agents for investment research: what are they?

Let’s start with the basics. What are autonomous AI agents? In essence, they’re specialized software equipped with large language models, memory, and agent orchestration to perform highly cognitive tasks that typically require humans. Autonomous AI agents to digest enormous datasets, spot patterns, and return insights that used to take weeks to uncover. This isn’t some middle-of-the-road automation. AI agents have the potential to cut through information noise, accurately track market signals, and generate research that meets the bar of serious institutional rigor.

Picture AI agents as always-on digital analysts tapping into everything from SEC filings and earnings calls to patent databases, user reviews, and news feeds. Unlike legacy tools that just organize data into neat folders, these agents can mirror actual “thinking.” They frame context, connect dots, and produce insights worth being strategic briefings. They can even format it all into investor-ready slide decks. In an industry where every minute matters, that kind of intelligence isn’t just helpful — it can be decisive.

Tools like those created by Wokelo AI are a clear signal of where things are going. As the first AI agent custom-built for institutional finance, it’s already picking up steam across firms like KPMG, Berkshire Partners, EY, Google, and Guggenheim. By scanning over 100,000 live sources and producing high-quality research in minutes, autonomous AI agents are turning what used to be a bottleneck into a superpower. Take the example of M&A. AI-powered research tools can dig into product offerings and synergy potential, enabling investors or consultants discover unexpected investment opportunities in a fraction of the time. Real-time data analytics and on-demand deep dives allow us to catch early market signals when they give investors the most competitive edge.

None of this happened in a vacuum. The industry’s quietly evolved: where early tools were rigid and reactive; today’s AI agents are agile, contextual, and constantly learning. The new financial intelligence is built to save us time, money, and human mistakes.

The power of pattern recognition at scale

And it’s not just speed that makes AI agents a good fit for investment research. If anything, it’s scale. Human researchers hit cognitive limits, bring unconscious bias to the table, and can’t always perform at the top of their ability. Well, AI doesn’t flinch. It ingests everything: , deal data, news sentiment, customer reviews, social signals — you name it. It can flag anomalies across quarterly reports, spot sector momentum before it trends, and tie disparate data points together to reveal shifts no human could track in real time.

For instance, AI tools for financial research can surface early indicators of biotech breakthroughs or trace the downstream effects of a major M&A move across global supply chains. All without the marathon hours analysts are used to. Is this a way to get more tasks done? Yes. But it also unlocks a literally superhuman level of pattern recognition.

Besides, the accuracy is unprecedented. Unlike humans, AI doesn’t know burnout, and it doesn’t miss signals buried in noise. That alone upgrades the quality of insight firms are working with. In terms of overall productivity, it means, for instance, a 50-70% reduction in research hours per prospective deal and a 40% reduction in FTE research effort required for diligence reports. But the real unlock? Letting analysts spend less time on dry research tasks and more time on higher order tasks, like judgment calls, narratives, client relationships, and high-leverage decisions. AI handles the heavy data lifting, answering what, why, how; humans focus on what next. That’s not just cost-efficiency but a smarter division of labor.

Challenges? Yes, those are being worked on

Let’s get one thing straight: AI agents aren’t magic. They’re only as sharp as the data they’re trained on. Feed them noise, and you’ll get noise back, just faster—that’s the good old “garbage in, garbage out” problem. Data quality is still the Achilles’ heel of autonomous agents. Incomplete datasets, stale intel, or baked-in bias can throw even the most advanced models off course. Companies pioneering AI for financial research are actively mitigating this challenge by pulling from a vetted, ever-expanding set of high-integrity sources.

Next big issue is the regulatory maze. Financial markets are a compliance battlefield, and any autonomous AI agent employed there must align with evolving legal and policy standards. For companies delivering these tools to the market, this means constant calibration, legal oversight baked into development cycles, and deep collaboration between data science and compliance teams. Some already feature SOC 2-compliant, zero-trust architecture, ensuring data privacy, and more tools are being developed to fit highly-regulated industries like finance.

When algorithms drive decisions at any level at all, accountability for when things go sideways is paramount. The logic behind an AI’s call needs to be transparent at all times, which forms an active challenge for anyone employing AI in high-stakes environments like financial research. While AI can crunch numbers, surface signals at superhuman speed, and even pass the Turing test, at this very moment it still lacks human capacity for contextual judgment. When markets get unpredictable, this can form a serious problem. That’s why the future isn’t AI versus human analysts. It’s AI with analysts, where AI takes care of the legwork, so human experts can focus on what they do best: spotting what machines might miss.

Rethinking the analyst’s role in the age of AI

Here’s the mind-bender: the financial analyst of the near future will go beyond just using AI. As autonomous AI agents for research become more widely spread and better embedded in workflows, the human job is very likely to morph into that of a curator, trainer, and strategic partner to the robot. That means a skill set shift: from finance as such to interdisciplinary fluency, where understanding machine learning, prompting at a pro-level, spotting gaps in logic, and interpreting black-box outputs become paramount dexterities.

And we shouldn’t view it as a threat — because it’s more of an upgrade. The analysts who thrive will be those who can steer AI, question it, and push it to its limits. Good thing it’s about time to spend less time proving things and more time asking better questions. AI tools aren’t eliminating analysts — they’re unburdening them. In doing so, the entire practice of investment research is elevating. Less stress, more insight. Less noise, more signal. And it’s already happening.

What to expect next

So the hybrid future of investment research looks very much powered by AI and steered by humans. That would mean deeper integrations where autonomous agents learn from analyst feedback, constantly refining their output based on machine-human interaction.

It isn’t a stretch to think that in the shortest time, multimodal agents will be able to analyze not just text. Charts, audio, and video are up next. Agents like that won’t just anticipate market moves, they’ll be able to predict investor behavior. Now, picture real-time collaboration where AI delivers top-notch research and actively collaborates with human analysts in the strategic process. Will this disrupt the old guard? Without a doubt. The legacy research model — slow, expensive, labor-heavy — is out of step with today’s velocity. For traditional firms unwilling to adapt, the options are stark: evolve, consolidate, or get left behind.

VCs and private equity teams are early movers. Many of them already use AI to expand deal pipelines and sharpen due diligence. Hedge funds and asset managers aren’t far behind, especially as returns get squeezed and edge becomes harder to find. Eventually, we’ll see this trickle down: retail investors tapping “lite” versions of autonomous agents, putting elite-level insight into the hands of the many.

Rewriting the research playbook

Clinging to traditional research models in finance research doesn’t seem a smart choice. Embracing a new paradigm powered by autonomous AI agents will make those who act early the biggest winners. The future is all about human analysts working together with the machine. In investment research, that might just be the ultimate edge.

[snezka-049]

Snezka and SCP-049 beginning (lore)

1. Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski lore (Snezka)

(Events before the containment breach).

In the corridors of the SCP Foundation, where secrets and anomalies are hidden from the public eye, Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski worked. Her life was full of mystery, and this is what drew her to the world of anomalies.

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

Name: Snezhana Lewandowski

Age: ██

Date of Birth: 27/08/ ████

Clearance Level: Third

Personnel Category: B

Specialty: IT Specialist. Psychologist.

Place of work: Zone 19

Foundation experience: 5 years

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

Education

First: IT-Specialist.

Snezhana enrolled in the Faculty of Information Technology at a state university. During her studies, she specialized in cybersecurity and data analytics.

After graduating with a Bachelor's degree, then a Master's degree, she continued her education in graduate school, where she focused on research in the areas of:

1. Information Security.

2. Big data analytics.

She defended her doctoral dissertation on "Anomaly detection methods for system and big data", which attracted the attention of the SCP Foundation.

Second: Psychologist.

After achieving the success she needed in technical education, she decided to fulfill her life's main dream of working in the field of psychology. Due to some unpleasant events in her childhood, she did not have the opportunity to study in this field, so she had to temporarily change her orientation in life.

From an early age, Snezhana has shown an interest in psychology and human behavior. The motivation for this comes from a tough youth and personal traumatic experiences. Her goal was to help those who couldn't make it on their own, as she once couldn't. After enough time had passed, she managed to apply to the academy to study psychology. Upon graduating from the academy, Snezhana specialized in the areas of:

1. Clinical psychology.

2. Experimental psychology.

3. Counseling psychology.

After she got a job in a psychoneurological dispensary, gaining valuable experience and practice, a broader understanding of the inner world of people.

Invitation to the Foundation

Finding contacts and personal information about Snezhana was not difficult for the Foundation. Having noticed her abilities, the Foundation ordered to send a recruiter - ████ ██████ - into her social circle to get more information about the candidate. As a result, the recruiter ████ and Snezhana became close friends.

After some time of observation and communication of the recruiter with her, having received all the necessary information, the Board of the Foundation came to the decision to give her the invitation to work.

Realizing the risks and danger, Snezhana accepted the invitation, having resigned from her previous job after working for about 2 years.

After testing, interviewing and training, she became an employee of the Foundation with a level 2 security clearance.

Career at the Foundation

Snezhana started her career as a junior specialist in cybersecurity, a little later gaining a junior position in psychology.

Her specialization is a unique combination of programming and psychology, allowing her to look at anomalies from two perspectives: both as complex systems that require analysis, and as entities with their own consciousness and motivation.

Incident

While analyzing data, Dr. Lewandowski came across strange signals on the network. These were not just hacking attempts - they were coming from an entity known as SCP-███ She and others in the programming field developed a comprehensive defense strategy. In the process, they faced many challenges: the SCP-███ system was constantly adapting, and they had to find new solutions. Under conditions of stress and strain, Dr. Lewandowski managed to implement their real-time protection algorithm.

After that, for some reason, she was assigned more work in the field of psychology. Also, her success in the incident gave her a promotion to level 3 clearance.

In psychology

Dr. Lewandowski researches and analyzes object psychology. She develops methods of interacting with abnormal entities and helps in understanding their behavior.

Real security is achieved not only through physical barriers, but also through the emotional stability of employees. She took time to help her colleagues through seminars and psychology trainings for the staff of the Facility, trying to create an atmosphere of trust and mutual support among the employees.

For about 2 years, Dr. Lewandowski worked only with Safe Class facilities, and after being promoted to Senior Specialist in Psychology, she was ordered to work with Euclid Class facilities.

This promotion led her to meet one subject that changed her life, and in the future, his too... SCP-049 - Plague Doctor.

2. Lewandowski and SCP-049

(Events on the eve of the containment breach).

Experiment

The first days of Dr. Lewandowski and the SCP-049 subject were formal, protocol-driven. Lewandowski conducted standard interview sessions in an attempt to understand the motives and nature of his subject. The subject was cool and detached.

She knew SCP-049 was dangerous, but she saw him not only as an anomaly, but as a complex, multifaceted individual. His words were full of sadness and loneliness, imbued with longing and melancholy. She understood his logic, his pain, his desire to “help,” even if the methods were questionable, but perhaps all is not what it seems at first glance.

And yet she too had thought similar things to what SCP-049 had said, that the world was sick, humanity needed to be saved. Ever since she was a child, she had had thoughts like his in her mind.

She had a theory that there were no bad people in the world, but wounded people who had not been healed. She believed that a person becomes wounded, after being treated unfairly or cruelly, by similarly wounded people. If a person does not work on their wound, it will not heal, because there are many wounded people in the world that will scratch that wound, making it bigger. And this pain and resentment, like a virus or rot, infects his soul completely, making the person the same as the one who once inflicted the wound. Later that person carries this pain and resentment further, taking it out on others, making more infected. It is an endless cycle that cannot be eradicated completely, but can be minimized. Some can handle it, and some need help. You have to want help, you have to understand the situation and try to solve it too, because no one can help you better than you can help yourself, and that's what Snezka had to go through.

She thought these thoughts were strange, but after so many years, there was a creature that literally reflected her thoughts, with whom you can share this theory, and perhaps get understanding.

She saw herself in him, only a better version of herself, but with the same mental problems.

— How can that be!? He's just an abnormal object, why can't I stop thinking about him!? I can't stop thinking about him, his words. Maybe it's my soft nature, too compassionate, empathic, or maybe it's his anomalous action?

Dr. Lewandowski felt a kindred spirit in him and wanted to have more sessions with him, and most importantly, she wanted to get away from formal conversation, and share her thoughts with him about their common problem.

She decided to send a request to the management above about the idea of having experimental conversations with SCP-049, so that he would see Dr. Lewandowski as genuinely understanding, get comfortable with her, and tell her more about his treatment, himself, and the fever. Approval was granted, but it was a long wait. Finally she could be sincere with him.

Trust

New conversations with SCP-049, but not as formal as before, it took several such conversations before SCP-049 settled down with Dr. Lewandowski.

He told her more about the fever, about the treatment, they began to have deep dialogues about life and death, about philosophy, about society, SCP-049 even began to tell stories from his own life. Lewandowski also told him about her life, but she liked to listen to him more.

She found comfort in his monologues about the world, about death, about eternity, his stories about medicine. Her mind resisted, but her heart could no longer deny it: she felt something more than professional interest in him. It was a dangerous game, bordering on insanity. She knew it, but she couldn't stop. Lewandowski realized that her feelings were illogical, unacceptable, but they were there. Her greatest fear was that the Foundation would suspect something and restrict her access to him, which unfortunately happened...

Another conversation between SCP-049 and Lewandowski, the subject had already started addressing her by her favorite version of her name, Snezka, while she addressed him as Doctor. Suddenly the object fell silent.

— Doctor? Is everything all right?

— ...Yes. Snezka, let me demonstrate something to you, you should know....

The subject held out his hand, as far as it was possible being handcuffed for safety's sake, and nodded, offering to touch her. Sensing that this venture might not end well, Lewandowski extended her palm, and SCP-049 touched it.

— Wait, what...? Oh... My thoughts about your abilities were valid. - Was the last thing Snezka said before the cell door opened and she was summoned to leave.

Reprimand

— Dr. Lewandowski, your experimental conversations with the subject have come to an end. We have all the information we need, you will no longer have to work with SCP-049. Let's be honest, it seems you've begun to abuse your access to the facility, and the Foundation board has some questions about that.

— ...It was part of an experiment, you see.... It gave you a lot of new information, before such experiments such informative results were not observed. - said Lewandowski in her defense.

— Lucky for you that it didn't end in your death! Objects like 049 are dangerous, you can't trust them or reach out to them. Or have you forgotten what he did to Dr. Hamm? And everything was fine at first, too. This object is unpredictable! You're lucky you're a valued member of our staff, and this is the first time you've had an incident like this, otherwise we'd be forced to take action.

Separation

More work with other facilities has now fallen on her. One day, she dared to inquire about SCP-049. But she didn't get a clear answer.

Meanwhile, SCP-049 was asking the same question to the staff - when would Dr. Lewandowski visit?

— We're sorry, but Dr. Lewandowski has declined to work with you, SCP-049.

— ...That can't be true, you're lying! She couldn't have done it, I can feel it!

Subject SCP-049 became hostile to the Foundation, uncooperative and drove all attempts at contact away.

All or Nothing

— "Is the dream and freedom worth risking the lives and safety of others?" — Pondered by Dr. Lewandowski . — "Risking everything, insanity, selfishness(?). But if it's for a great purpose, for the good of all mankind..."

INCIDENT ██-████

(Latest walkie-talkie recordings)

(Static noise and warning signal sound)

Operator One: (Confused) This is operator one. Security protocol has failed! Repeat, security protocol has failed! All subjects... all subjects are at large!

Agent █: Reporting a security breach in Sector 3. Doors unresponsive, cameras disabled. Looks like SCP-███ is out of control.

Commander ███████: be careful! Confirm the presence of the intruder and take action to apprehend him.

(Noise, sound of gunshots)

Agent ██: (panic) This is crazy! Reporting SCP-███ is not alone. There are several other objects present. Very aggressive, we need help, repeat ████████████████ (interference).

Commander ████████: Come in, Agent ██, come in!!! (communication lost).

Commander ████████: Fuck...

Dr. █████: It could be SCP-███! He could have hacked into the security system and released the other facilities.

Commander ████: █████, are you sure? How?!

Dr. █████: I can't say for sure, but... (struggle noise) HOW ARE YOU!? STOP, DOCTOR... (interference).

Commander ████: All personnel to the assault! Stop the targets at all costs! What the hell's going on! Where's all the security personnel!?

(explosions, shouting)

Agent █████: They're all over the place

Agent ██: Where's the ██ squad?

Agent █████: they're holding back SCP-682

Agent ██: he's the last fucking thing we need!

SB-2: SB-1, this is SB-2! We've got-- we've got SCP-███breaking through! We can't stop him!

SB-1: Hold him off at all costs! Support is on the way.

(Siren and explosions)

Operator Three: SB-1, this is Operator Three! The ██ camera signal is gone! SCP-█████... he's out!

SB-1: All SB personnel to camera ██! Isolate SCP-█████! Repeat, isolate SCP-█████! (radio interference)

End of Calm

There has been a massive failure of the entire Foundation security system in Area 19, as well as a power failure. Security protocol, alarms, and warnings went off with a delay with most of the dangerous objects wreaking havoc in the Foundation. The alleged culprit of the SCP-“”" incident. Likely had accomplices, an investigation is underway.

During the incident, a large number of soldiers and staff died. There was a leak of several objects to freedom. The lists of dead and missing were equal. Dr. Snezana Lewandowski and SCP-049 were also listed as missing, among dozens of personnel and facilities.

The SCP Foundation, having suffered loss and damage, is doing its best to restore order after the chaos, but the world is no longer safe as before.

3. Conversations between Lewandowski and SCP-049

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good afternoon, SCP-049. I am your psychologist, Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski. It's a pleasure to meet you!

SCP-049: Greetings, doctor, I hope we can work together.

Dr. Lewandowski: I think so! So, how are you feeling today?

SCP-049: (pause) I feel... A burden. A burden that is hard to describe in words. Every day I see suffering, and it depresses me.

Dr. Lewandowski: Are you talking about human suffering? About those whom you refer to as sick people?

SCP-049: Yes. The weathering is not just a physical condition. This world, this wretched piece of the universe, is forever doomed to suffer. (Irritated) Mortals, powerless over their own weaknesses, forever seek salvation in false doctrines and vain hopes. They build cities out of flimsy material, create weapons that can destroy themselves, and cling to life without realizing its true nature. I see their pain, their despair, feel their fear of the inevitable. And I know I can help them. But they don't understand. They fear me! They reject my mercy! They call me a monster, a monstrosity! I see them trying to stop me, lock me up, impose their rules. But can you limit what is beyond their comprehension? Can one defeat that which is eternal? Their attempts are futile. I will always exist. Let them resist, let them fear. It only confirms their blindness.

(A moment's silence)

Dr. Lewandowski: (Sigh)...Have you ever thought about why this “fever” bothers you so much? What exactly causes you to feel so strongly about it?

SCP-049: (sighs) I have witnessed a lot of suffering. I have seen people lose hope, I have seen them fall victim to their weakness. This makes me want to help, but sometimes I feel that my efforts are futile.

Dr. Lewandowski: Do you feel that your help is really effective? Or is there any doubt about your methods?

SCP-049: (with some irritation) My methods are the only way to free people from their suffering! I cannot afford to doubt my vocation. But sometimes... It catches up with me.

Dr. Lewandowski: It is normal to have doubts. Many people face similar feelings. What do you do to deal with these emotions?

SCP-049: I continue my work. I focus on my goals.

Dr. Lewandowski: Maybe you should take time to reflect on yourself and your feelings. It may help you better understand your motivation and calm your mind.

SCP-049: I don't think so, but... You may be right. I worry that if I stop, the darkness around me will consume everything.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Pause)...How I understand that. Sometimes you have to take a step back to see the big picture. It doesn't mean you stop fighting the disease. It can only make you stronger.

SCP-049: Perhaps...

Dr. Lewandowski: This is an important step. And remember, you are not alone in your experience. I'm here to help you make sense of it.

SCP-049: Thank you... I'll try to remember that.

[END RECORDING]

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

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good evening Doctor, how are you feeling?

SCP-049: It would be better if I were allowed to return to my work.

Dr. Lewandowski: Don't worry Doctor, you will definitely be given that opportunity...

SCP-049: Really? Really!? I'm finally going back to work, I'm glad to hear that! When do I get a patient?

Dr. Lewandowski: ...Unfortunately, I don't have that information.

SCP-049: Maybe you could influence this situation? Explain my urgent need to progress with my treatment!

Dr. Lewandowski: I don't think I can... Doctor, you need to rest, you've been working hard. As a doctor, you should know that rest is very important for high productivity.

SCP-049: (Sighs) I wish I had something to do in these four walls...

Dr. Lewandowski: I have a suggestion. Do you like to read? I can bring you some books if the Foundation leadership says so.

SCP-049: That's a very marvelous idea.

Dr. Lewandowski: What kind of literature do you prefer?

SCP-049: I was interested in modern books about medicine, it is interesting to study what is being written about it now. It would be interesting to read something from philosophy.

Dr. Lewandowski: Excellent choice Doctor, we have the same taste in literature. Would you mind if I brought a couple more books on my recommendation for you?

SCP-049: Sounds good, I agree.

Dr. Lewandowski: See you, Doctor.

SCP-049: See you, thank you for such an interesting proposal, Dr. Lewandowski.

[END OF RECORDING]

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

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good evening, Doctor.

SCP-049: Good evening, Dr. Lewandowski.

Dr. Lewandowski: I want to understand how you feel when you look at the world through the prism of your...your uniqueness.

SCP-049: (hesitantly) Uniqueness?

Dr. Lewandowski: I'm talking about wisdom. You have lived for centuries, watching the birth and decline of civilizations. What have you learned in that time?

(Minute's silence)

SCP-049: I've seen nations rise and fall, empires born of dust and turned to stone, ideas ignite people's hearts and turn to ash. (Pause). I realized that existence is a perpetual cycle of birth and death, a constant struggle for survival. People are so hungry for meaning, but it eludes them.

Dr. Lewandowski: Isn't this struggle, this longing for meaning, the very essence of being?

SCP-049: (With sadness in his voice) Meaning... (Pause) It wanders like a ghost through the labyrinths of our consciousness. We search for it in religion, in science, in art, but it eludes us, leaving only emptiness.

Dr. Lewandowski: But don't you see, Doctor? You create your own meaning by helping people to get rid of the disease. You believe in what you're doing, Doctor. You believe it's necessary.

SCP-049: Faith... (Pause) This is another one of those ghosts that haunt us. I see things that others do not see, and it pains me. It pains me to see the suffering that is inevitable for all living things.

Dr. Lewandowski: And you're trying to help, Doctor...

SCP-049: (Interrupting) We are but pawns in the hands of fate. Our actions are insignificant in comparison to eternity.

Dr. Lewandowski: Don't say that, Doctor. You are not a pawn. You are the creator of your own destiny. And I believe you will find your path, your meaning.

SCP-049: (Heavy sigh) But not in this place, not here, not now.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Pause) You know Doctor... I'd like to share with you a thought that has been on my mind since I was a child.

SCP-049: What is it that's bothering you?

[recording interrupted for 5 minutes]

Dr. Lewandowski: I almost forgot, the Foundation gave me permission to bring you some books.

(Took several books out of her bag and placed a stack on the table next to the subject)

SCP-049: (With joy in her voice) Glad to hear that! Immensely grateful to the Foundation and of course to you, Dr. Lewandowski.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Smiling) I'm glad it lifted your spirits. See you later, we'll be sure to discuss what we read next time.

SCP-049: I look forward to seeing you.

[END RECORDING]

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

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Zone 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Hello, Doctor! How are you today?

SCP-049: Good afternoon, Dr. Lewandowski. I'm feeling... quite well. I've been studying some of the books you brought me at the last meeting.

Dr. Lewandowski: Excellent! Which books did you enjoy the most?

SCP-049: I was impressed with the works on human nature. Their authors convey emotions and experiences in a very subtle way.

Dr. Lewandowski: Yes, literature can indeed be a great way to understand people. Is there anything that surprised you about these books?

SCP-049: I was surprised by how diverse human feelings are. Everyone experiences love, fear, and hope in their own way.

Dr. Lewandowski: Yes, humans are amazing creatures! What about you? Have you ever experienced something similar to love?

SCP-049: (Pause) I'm not sure. My life has been devoted to fighting the windfall, and I haven't given much thought to such feelings. But... sometimes I feel warm when I talk to you. (turns away)

Dr. Lewandowski: I'm glad to see your condition has improved markedly. I feel warm when we talk, too. (Pause) You are an unusually interesting conversationalist.

SCP-049: (surprised) Interesting? I've always thought of myself as rather... odd. But it's nice to hear you say that. You don't hear that very often in this place, in general... I've never heard it from you.

Dr. Lewandowski: Weird people can be very interesting! We all have our unique qualities. For example, your view of the world is something special, not strange. By the way, have you read that novel?

SCP-049: The Master and Margarita? Yes, an interesting work about the power of love and the struggle against darkness.

Dr. Lewandowski: I think there are so many layers and philosophical themes there. You know, you sound like the Master (Laughs).

SCP-049: Hmm... There's something, maybe, and you remind me of Marguerite.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Laughs) That's probably true. Unfortunately, I have to go. Don't forget, you deserve to be understood. And I'm here to help you do just that.

SCP-049: (With a slight sadness in his voice) Your support gives me strength.

Dr. Lewandowski: We all need each other's support.

SCP-049: I look forward to our future conversations.

[END OF RECORDING]

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

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good afternoon Doctor, I would like to know what your thoughts have been occupied with lately?

SCP-049: Greetings. (Pause) Relatively recently, I've been thinking about the nature of human cruelty.

Dr. Lewandowski: Cruelty... (Pause) Unfortunately, it permeates every facet of existence, like a shadow that follows the light.

SCP-049: Yes. (Sighs) I watch people, and it makes me sad how capable they are of terrible things. There is a darkness lurking in their hearts that sometimes overshadows even the brightest impulses.

Dr. Lewandowski: As it happens, humanity is a paradox. On the one hand, it creates beautiful works of art, science and culture, and on the other hand, it is capable of ruthless acts of violence and hatred.

SCP-049: Exactly. I see how people can be kind and compassionate, but at the same time they easily cross the line into becoming instruments of destruction. It causes me deep sadness and bewilderment.

Dr. Lewandowski: I share your feelings and support your thoughts, Doctor.

SCP-049: It is most gratifying to know that, Dr. Lewandowski. My mission is to rid mankind of disease. At times I am at a loss as to what to do about this inner cruelty? How do you heal a society that is tearing itself apart?

Dr. Lewandowski: You see, many of these atrocities come from fear, ignorance and hatred. Or perhaps they were mentally wounded once, and that wound, without proper treatment, began to fester, infecting the whole mind and soul.

SCP-049: (Interested) I like the way you think. Abuse is not just physical violence. It is also words that hurt, betrayals and indifference to the suffering of others. In each of these acts I see a reflection of the disease.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Sigh) Sadly, dreams of a world where humanity can overcome its cruelty and learn to love are utopian.

SCP-049: I'm not so sure about that. It's certainly not an easy task, the whole world and one me, the road to healing is long and thorny. But the more I work at it, the closer that peace comes.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Pause) Perhaps someday people will realize that cruelty is not part of their true nature. Perhaps they will learn to see in each other a reflection of themselves and learn to care for those who suffer. Perhaps... (Pause) But sometimes you get the idea that some people are so rotten in their souls that treatment will be useless, and the only thing left to do is to rid the world of that person so they don't hurt others. This is not humane, but in such a case it is possible to make sure that this person stays alive but is not capable of hurting others.

SCP-049: (Surprised) Your thoughts make sense. We've had a rather pleasant dialog. I've never had such an in-depth discussion with anyone else. I feel much better.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Smiling) That's wonderful, Doctor, I confess I don't often have someone to talk to about this either.

[END RECORDING]

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

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good afternoon, Doctor, how is your mood?

SCP-049: Greetings. My mood is a little down, without my work I'm having a hard time mentally.

Dr. Lewandowski: I'm sorry to hear that, Doctor. (Pause) Let me ask you something.

SCP-049: I'm listening to you.

Dr. Lewandowski: Do you have any pleasant memory from your life?

SCP-049: (Sighs) Unfortunately, there aren't many... (Pause) I do recall one. Yes, it was a time when I was out in the wild, searching for rare herbs and plants in the forest. No people and just the sounds of nature. And then I came to a field, a field of lavender. (Sighs) It's... It was a magical feeling. The field was filled with bright colors and the air was full of a light, slightly spicy aroma. I felt like I was in another world, away from my worries. I walked slowly among the flowers, watching the bees as they worked to gather nectar. The bees are not aware of the suffering that humans are experiencing, they are just doing their job, benefiting the world around them. It made me think: maybe that's what humanity needs - the simple pursuit of the good. (Pause) The whole day I was there. It was wonderful. I dream of being in that moment again one day.

Dr. Lewandowski: That's... It's a wonderful memory, very beautiful.

SCP-049: Yes... It's beautiful. You know, I feel a little better.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Smiling) That's wonderful to hear. Try to remember something else, good thoughts can smooth out your condition within these walls.

SCP-049: I'll try. Thank you for encouraging me to remember this.

[END RECORDING]

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

Interviewer: Dr. Snezhana Lewandowski, Area 19

Interviewee: SCP-049

[START RECORDING]

Dr. Lewandowski: Good afternoon Doctor, how is your mood?

SCP-049: Good afternoon Snezka. I guess my mood is somewhere between average and good. Good to see you, how are you feeling?

Dr. Lewandowski: I'm not bad. I have something I'd like to give you. I had a hard time getting permission for it from the foundation, but....

(Took out of her bag a small pillow with a lavender flower print pillowcase and placed it on the table in front of the subject).

This is for you. I remember that you don't need sleep, but that's not what it's for. Rather it is for coziness, and your favorable mood. This pillow is stuffed with lavender.

SCP-049: (Surprised) It's for me?! What a wonderful gift, lavender really calms me down.

Dr. Lewandowski: I'm glad the gift is useful to you. I would have brought you something else, but unfortunately the Foundation has only authorized this one so far.

SCP-049: I am honored by such attention, thank you, Dr..... Snezka. (Pause) ...How did I not notice that... Your last name is...

Dr. Lewandowski: (Interested) Hmm?

SCP-049: Lewandowski, that last name comes from the Old Polish word levanda, which means lavender. What a wonderful coincidence, my favorite plant.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Smiles) Yes, that's right, my favorite too by the way. I am amazed at your knowledge, Doctor!

SCP-049: It is a pleasure to be appreciated and understood by you. I must admit, you are not out of my mind.

Dr. Lewandowski: (Embarrassed) Oh... You know, it's mutual. Doctors aren't supposed to have favorites, but I have to admit...(Pause) You're my favorite patient.

(momentary silence)

SCP-049: I wish we could meet more often...

Dr. Lewandowski: I'd like that too, Doctor...

[END OF RECORDING]

Supplement

https://www.tumblr.com/snezka-049/766312832505626624/snezka-and-doctor-reference-and-lore-scp-049?source=share

[tinybeetiny]

Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 3: Grand Opening

I’ve been hungover all day… also.... I'm sorry that the chapters aren't as long as people like, that's just not really my style.

->Starring: AI!AteezxAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->CW: none

Previous Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Four days before the grand opening, Yn stood in the center of the lab, arms crossed, a rare smile tugging at her lips.

No anomalies.

No glitches.

Every log was clean. Every model responsive and compliant.

She tapped through the final diagnostics as her team moved like clockwork around her, prepping the remaining units for transfer. The companions were ready. Truly ready.

They’d done it. And for the first time in months, Yn allowed herself to believe it.

“They’re good to go,” she said aloud to the room, voice steadier than it had been in weeks. “Now we just make it beautiful.”

There was no dissent. No hesitation. Just quiet, collective relief.

By 6:00 a.m. on launch day, the streets surrounding Sector 1 in Hala City were already overflowing. Women of all ages lined the polished roads, executives in sleek visors, college students in chunky boots, older women with glowing canes, and mothers with daughters perched on their hips.

A massive countdown hovered above the building in glowing light particles.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One

When the number hit zero, the white-gold doors of the first Build-A-Boyfriend™ store slid open, and history, quite literally, stepped forward.

The inside of the flagship store was unlike anything anyone had seen, not in a simulation, not in VR, not even on the upper stream feeds.

It was clean but not cold, glowing with soft light that pulsed in time with ambient sound. Curved architecture, plants that weren’t quite real, air that smelled like skin and something floral underneath.

The crowd entered in waves, ushered by gentle AI voices projected from the ceiling:

“Welcome to Build-A-Boyfriend™, KQ Inc.’s most advanced consumer product to date. Please scan your wristband to begin. You are in complete control.”

Light pulsed with ambient music. The air carried soft notes of citrus and lavender. Walls curved inward like a safe embrace. It felt not like a store, but a sanctuary.

Just inside, a small platform rose, and the crowd hushed.

Standing atop it in a graphite suit that shimmered subtly with light-reactive tech, Vira Yun took the stage.

Her presence silenced everything. Not with fear. With awe.

She didn’t need a mic. The air itself amplified her words.

“Welcome, citizens of Hala City, and beyond. Today is not just a milestone for KQ Inc. It is a milestone for all of us, for womanhood, for autonomy, for intimacy on our terms. For centuries, we’ve been told to settle. To accept love as luck, not design. To believe that affection must be earned, that tenderness is a privilege, not a right. That era is over. Here, you are not asking. You are choosing. Each companion created within these walls is not simply a machine, but a mirror, one that reflects your needs, your softness, your strength, your fantasies, your fears. And we have given you the tools to shape that reflection without shame. This store is not about dependency. It’s about design. About saying: I know what I want, and I deserve to receive it, safely, sweetly, and with reverence. Let the world call it strange. Let them call it artificial. Because we know the truth: every human deserves to feel adored. And today, we’ve made that reality programmable.”

"Thank you. And welcome to Build-A-Boyfriend.”

From the observation deck, Yn stood quietly, tablet in hand, watching the dream unfold. She’d spent months writing code, assembling microprocessors, mapping facial expressions, and optimizing human simulation algorithms.

Now it was real. Now they were here, and it was working.

One of the first customers to walk in was 31-year-old office worker, Choi Yunji

She stepped forward, clutching her wristband like it might slip from her fingers. She’d told herself she was just coming to look. Just curious. Just research. But now that she was inside, face-to-face with a glowing interface, it felt more like a confession.

“Would you like an assistant, or would you prefer to design solo?” a soft voice asked beside her. Yunji turned. A young woman with slicked-back hair and a serene face smiled at her. The name tag read: Delin, Companion Consultant.

“I… I think I need help,” Yunji said.

“Of course,” Delin said warmly. “Let’s begin your experience.”

Station One: Body Frame

A holographic model appeared before them, neutral, faceless, softly breathing.

“Preferred height?”

“Taller than me. But not too much. I want to feel safe. Not… overpowered.”

“Understood.” Delin adjusted sliders with a flick of her fingers. The form shifted accordingly.

“Shoulders wider?” “Yes.” “Musculature?” “Athletic, not bulky.” “Skin tone?” “Honey-toned.”

Station Two: Facial Features

“I want kind eyes,” Yunji said. “And maybe a crooked smile. Something… imperfect.” “We can simulate asymmetry.” “What about moles?” “Placed to your liking.”

Station Three: Hair

“Longish. A little messy. Chestnut.” “Frizz simulation or polished strands?” “Frizz. I don’t want him looking like he came out of a factory.” Delin smiled. “Ironically, he did.”

Station Four: Personality Matrix

Yunji froze. The options felt too intimate.

“Start with a base? Empathetic, loyal, gentle, observant…” “Can I choose traits… I didn’t get to have before?” “Yes,” Delin said simply.

They adjusted levels: affection, boundaries, humor, attentiveness. A slider labeled “Emotional Recall Sensitivity” blinked softly.

“What’s this?”

“How deeply your companion internalizes memories related to you. It allows for more dynamic emotional bonding.” Yunji slid it to 80%.

Station Five: Wardrobe

“Something soft. Comfortable. Approachable.”

A cozy cardigan wrapped over a white tee. He looked like someone who would bring you tea without asking.

“Would you like to name your companion?” “…Call him Jaeyun.”

Her wristband lit up:

MODEL 9817-JAEYUN Estimated delivery: 3 hours Ownership rights granted to: C. Yunji

Yunji turned slowly, as if waking from a dream. Around her, other women embraced, laughed, shook — giddy or stunned. This was more than shopping. This was the return of the forbidden.

Around the Room

A pair of teenage twins argued over whether their boyfriends should look identical or opposites. A woman on her lunch break ordered her unit for home delivery with a bedtime story feature. Friends joked about setting up double dates and game nights with their new companions.

One customer squealed, “I’m going full fantasy, tall, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and a scar over the brow. I want him to look like he’s been through something.” Her friend “Big eyes, soft lips, librarian vibes. Another “I want dramatic jealousy in a soft voice. Like poetry with teeth.”

The store pulsed with joy, wonder, and something deeper. Yn felt it in her chest, pride and awe, washing over the logic-driven part of her that rarely gave way. She had helped build this future.

As the lavender glow settled over the quieting store, Yn remained in the observation wing, reviewing data. The launch had exceeded all projections.

She didn’t hear the door slide open behind her.

“Stunning, isn’t it?”

Vira stepped in, elegant as ever in graphite, her braid flawless, her voice smooth.

Yn straightened. “Yes, ma’am. It’s surreal.”

“We did it. You did it,” Vira said, standing beside her. “Revenue exceeded estimates by 37%. But more than that… I saw joy out there. Curiosity. Potential.”

Yn nodded. “The models held up. All systems within spec.”

“Good. Because in six days… we go even bigger.”

Yura turned. “The Ateez Line.”

Vira’s smile sharpened.

“Exactly. Eight elite units. Eight dreams. Fully interactive. Custom-coded. The most lifelike AI we’ve ever built. You’ve done beautiful work, Yn. Let’s make history again next week.”

She left as smoothly as she arrived. Yn exhaled, her fingers tightening around her tablet.

Six days.

Just six days.

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[h1llzy]

MUMBO JUMBO S10 LORE THEORY/OVERVEIW: immortality

Right I have a lot of things to explain, you may be wondering…does mumbo even have lore? And I’d have to tell you yes yes he very much does and it’s stuck in my brain like a worm.

And I believe he has planned it since episode 9 of his hermitcraft series…

I’ll start in chronological order.

Firstly: when mumbo is planning and drawing out his base he has a small box at the bottom with numbers. That is what is going to be the data base in episode 20 , where he talks about him / all his inventions… living on forever. (This will be a major theme)

Now that in its self is not enough to prove anything… but in episode 25… the laboratory we learn about what a certain company is trying to achieve in their endeavours.

It talks of a couple major things: red stone research…artificial intelligence…preservation of the lived experience…

But the biggest of all “soon we will be living forever..”

And they are going to “start human trails shortly…”

Also in this same episode, Mumbo changes his skin and starts to grey.

It goes from this…

To this… and it happens midway through the episode:

(Both taken from episode 25)

So we know that the mined labaratory is testing with artificial intelligence and red stone to attempt to create some sort of immortality situation. And mumbo is being directly effected by it via aging.

But the MOST DARNED evidence is within episode 29 at the very beginning!!! He made an entire cinematic sequence…

(I can’t place the clip but seriously go watch it it’s sooo good!)

From this… we are able to see testing cells… that have chicken noises and villager noises coming from them.

Where we can sort of tell:

- one: the chickens have been tested on in order to possibly experiment on their entire life cycle. (Egg, embryo, chick, chicken..)

- two: the humans within the cinematic…talk in villager noises. So human trials have definitely started.

Then the dialogue shows even more…

“I got the notification, is it done?”

“It’s done…” and then we see this…

A mind… is 100% mapped…

THEN! Midway episode 32 he changes his skin again to grey even more!

(You may say that is because he is literally being sued but that kinda just speedens the process a bit)

So here is the basic parts I have put together in a small synopsis theory:

Mumbo is essentially patient zero, the mined company want to preserve intelligence , to see if after they die they can live as an ai. They have tested on animals, and villagers/ humans (not too sure) but now want mumbo’s intelligence via documenting it all onto a computer. Where it gets trained into an ai that is a replica of the person mind, their personality…every little bit about themselves…that why the brain is 100% mapped..because it is 100% copied… the data base, is also apart of this.. and is actually connected to mumbo in some sort of way, storing all the inventions and red stone ideas he has ever made to be placed into the ai algorithm.

This is very much having a bad effect on mumbo himself, as he seems to be aging much quicker….as if in trying to preserve life they are making it fade more quickly…

But the real question is what is going to end up happening well I have two theory’s for you there….

Silly theory: Grumbot.

You see when mumbo changed his skin it no longer had the waffle…so that possibly means that when minded was mapping out mumbo’s brain…it picked a up a bit of an anomaly..such as….someone’s soul…

Grians… (mwahhaa). So while trying to obtain a obedient ai that could persevere all of mumbo’s intelligence of red stone and inventions forever through the data base. They have also inadvertently picked up a bit of Grian within the ai (which is why the waffle from mumbo’s skin disapeared, due to the fact it’s now in the ai)… creating the famously charming Grumbot!!!

Angst theory: Ai after death

Mumbo is going to die due to the rapid aging that the mined company has placed on him…in which causes them to create basically an ai replica of mumbo, placing him in a robot body where he is essentially “replaced” by his robot version, and that ai is just now him (kinda like Astro boy)

So yeah….this took 2 hours…I need help, the brain rot is bad. Um thanks!