#automated blind systems

[benjokovar77]

Exploring the Future of Smart Homes: The Benefits of Automated Blind Systems with SwitchBot

The smart home industry is rapidly evolving, and one of the standout innovations is the automated blind systems offered by SwitchBot. These systems not only enhance convenience but also improve energy efficiency in our homes.

Imagine being able to control the amount of natural light entering your space with just a tap on your phone or through voice commands. SwitchBot’s automated blinds allow you to set schedules, ensuring your home is always at the perfect brightness level, whether you're at home or away.

Additionally, these systems can contribute to reducing your energy bills by optimizing the use of heating and cooling throughout the day. By investing in SwitchBot's automated blind systems, you're not just making your home smarter; you're also making a positive impact on your lifestyle and the environment.

What are your thoughts on automated blind systems? Have you tried SwitchBot's offerings? Share your experiences!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

AI can’t do your job

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

AI can't do your job, but an AI salesman (Elon Musk) can convince your boss (the USA) to fire you and replace you (a federal worker) with a chatbot that can't do your job:

https://www.pcmag.com/news/amid-job-cuts-doge-accelerates-rollout-of-ai-tool-to-automate-government

If you pay attention to the hype, you'd think that all the action on "AI" (an incoherent grab-bag of only marginally related technologies) was in generating text and images. Man, is that ever wrong. The AI hype machine could put every commercial illustrator alive on the breadline and the savings wouldn't pay the kombucha budget for the million-dollar-a-year techies who oversaw Dall-E's training run. The commercial market for automated email summaries is likewise infinitesimal.

The fact that CEOs overestimate the size of this market is easy to understand, since "CEO" is the most laptop job of all laptop jobs. Having a chatbot summarize the boss's email is the 2025 equivalent of the 2000s gag about the boss whose secretary printed out the boss's email and put it in his in-tray so he could go over it with a red pen and then dictate his reply.

The smart AI money is long on "decision support," whereby a statistical inference engine suggests to a human being what decision they should make. There's bots that are supposed to diagnose tumors, bots that are supposed to make neutral bail and parole decisions, bots that are supposed to evaluate student essays, resumes and loan applications.

The narrative around these bots is that they are there to help humans. In this story, the hospital buys a radiology bot that offers a second opinion to the human radiologist. If they disagree, the human radiologist takes another look. In this tale, AI is a way for hospitals to make fewer mistakes by spending more money. An AI assisted radiologist is less productive (because they re-run some x-rays to resolve disagreements with the bot) but more accurate.

In automation theory jargon, this radiologist is a "centaur" – a human head grafted onto the tireless, ever-vigilant body of a robot

Of course, no one who invests in an AI company expects this to happen. Instead, they want reverse-centaurs: a human who acts as an assistant to a robot. The real pitch to hospital is, "Fire all but one of your radiologists and then put that poor bastard to work reviewing the judgments our robot makes at machine scale."

No one seriously thinks that the reverse-centaur radiologist will be able to maintain perfect vigilance over long shifts of supervising automated process that rarely go wrong, but when they do, the error must be caught:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/01/human-in-the-loop/#monkey-in-the-middle

The role of this "human in the loop" isn't to prevent errors. That human's is there to be blamed for errors:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/30/a-neck-in-a-noose/#is-also-a-human-in-the-loop

The human is there to be a "moral crumple zone":

https://estsjournal.org/index.php/ests/article/view/260

The human is there to be an "accountability sink":

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

But they're not there to be radiologists.

This is bad enough when we're talking about radiology, but it's even worse in government contexts, where the bots are deciding who gets Medicare, who gets food stamps, who gets VA benefits, who gets a visa, who gets indicted, who gets bail, and who gets parole.

That's because statistical inference is intrinsically conservative: an AI predicts the future by looking at its data about the past, and when that prediction is also an automated decision, fed to a Chaplinesque reverse-centaur trying to keep pace with a torrent of machine judgments, the prediction becomes a directive, and thus a self-fulfilling prophecy:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

AIs want the future to be like the past, and AIs make the future like the past. If the training data is full of human bias, then the predictions will also be full of human bias, and then the outcomes will be full of human bias, and when those outcomes are copraphagically fed back into the training data, you get new, highly concentrated human/machine bias:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/14/inhuman-centipede/#enshittibottification

By firing skilled human workers and replacing them with spicy autocomplete, Musk is assuming his final form as both the kind of boss who can be conned into replacing you with a defective chatbot and as the fast-talking sales rep who cons your boss. Musk is transforming key government functions into high-speed error-generating machines whose human minders are only the payroll to take the fall for the coming tsunami of robot fuckups.

This is the equivalent to filling the American government's walls with asbestos, turning agencies into hazmat zones that we can't touch without causing thousands to sicken and die:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/19/failure-cascades/#dirty-data

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/18/asbestos-in-the-walls/#government-by-spicy-autocomplete

Image: Krd (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:DASA_01.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

--

Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[homecinemamarin]

Intelligent and Chic Window Solutions: Skilled Installation of Motorized Blinds

Looking to upgrade your windows with a modern touch? Our team specializes in custom window treatments, and motorized blinds installation is one of our most popular services. One of our most popular services is installing motorized blinds. Our staff specializes in creating unique window treatments. Using voice commands, an app, or a remote, you can easily control privacy and light with motorized blinds. We'll help you select the ideal look and take care of everything, so it's a quick and easy process. With blinds that move at the touch of a button, you may enjoy a more intelligent and cozy home.

[epsilontechnologies]

Transform Your Daily Routine with LifeSmart Smart Home Solutions

Integrating smart technology into your daily routine can significantly improve convenience, security, and efficiency in today’s fast-paced world. One of the leading innovators in the smart home industry is LifeSmart, a company dedicated to making your home smarter and more intuitive. LifeSmart Smart Home solutions are designed to help you manage various aspects of your home effortlessly. Like lighting and security to climate control, all from your smartphone or voice commands.

Whether you are looking to optimize your energy usage, or enhance your home security. Simply add comfort to your living environment, LifeSmart has solutions that will transform the way you live. In this article, we will explore eight LifeSmart solutions that can make a real difference in your daily routine. Each of these solutions is designed to provide a seamless experience, ensuring your home is smarter, safer, and more efficient.

Main LifeSmart Solutions to Enhance Your Routine

Smart Lighting Control

Intelligent Climate Management

LifeSmart Security System

Automated Curtains and Blinds

Smart Home Automation Hub

Smart Lighting Control

One of the most impactful LifeSmart Smart Home solutions is smart lighting control. With LifeSmart’s smart lighting system, you can adjust the lighting in your home from your smartphone or set automatic schedules that match your routine. Whether you want to dim the lights for a movie night or brighten your home in the morning, LifeSmart makes it easy. This solution helps create the perfect ambiance for every moment and optimizes energy efficiency by turning off lights when they’re not needed.

Additionally, smart lighting can integrated with motion sensors to turn on lights when you enter a room, adding a layer of convenience and security. The LifeSmart Smart Home system ensures that your lights are energy-efficient and responsive to your preferences, reducing your environmental footprint.

Intelligent Climate Management

Controlling the temperature in your home is easier and smarter with LifeSmart’s intelligent climate management. This solution allows you to regulate heating and cooling systems to maintain a comfortable temperature, no matter the season. With LifeSmart Smart Home solutions, you can set your ideal temperature through your smartphone or voice commands, or let the system automatically adjust based on your preferences and schedule.

By integrating intelligent climate management with sensors, LifeSmart ensures that energy consumption is optimized. You’ll no longer have to worry about manually adjusting the thermostat—LifeSmart makes sure your home stays at the perfect temperature, whether you’re at home or away.

LifeSmart Security System

Security is a top priority for any homeowner, and LifeSmart offers a comprehensive security system that includes smart cameras, motion detectors, and door/window sensors. With the LifeSmart Smart Home security system, you can monitor your home in real-time from anywhere, receiving alerts on your phone if suspicious activity is detect. This solution provides peace of mind, knowing that your home is protected with cutting-edge technology.

LifeSmart’s security system can customized to suit your specific needs, offering 24/7 monitoring, remote access, and integration with other LifeSmart devices. Whether you’re traveling or simply away for the day, LifeSmart ensures your home remains secure.

Automated Curtains and Blinds

For those seeking convenience and energy efficiency, LifeSmart’s automated curtains and blinds offer an ideal solution. With this system, you can control window coverings from your smartphone or set schedules for them to open and close at certain times of the day. This not only enhances privacy but also helps regulate indoor temperature by managing sunlight exposure.

By automating your curtains and blinds, LifeSmart ensures that your home stays cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter, reducing the need for excessive heating or cooling. It’s an eco-friendly, stylish way to improve both the comfort and aesthetics of your living space.

Smart Home Automation Hub

At the core of LifeSmart’s solutions is the Smart Home Automation Hub, a central platform that connects all your LifeSmart devices. This hub allows you to manage your entire smart home system from one interface, simplifying the process of controlling lights, security, climate, and more. The automation hub is compatible with voice assistants like Amazon Alexa and Google Assistant, allowing for voice-controlled management of your home.

With the LifeSmart Smart Home Automation Hub, you can create custom scenes and routines that make your daily tasks more efficient. For example, you can create a “goodnight” scene that locks all doors, turns off lights, and sets the thermostat to your preferred temperature—all with a single command.

Conclusion

LifeSmart Smart Home solutions provide a range of features designed to make your life easier, more secure, and energy-efficient. From smart lighting and climate control to a robust security system and automated curtains, LifeSmart offers solutions that integrate seamlessly into your routine. By investing in LifeSmart Smart Home technology, you can enjoy greater convenience and peace of mind, all while optimizing your home’s efficiency.

Ready to transform your daily routine with LifeSmart? Explore their range of products and discover how you can create a smarter, more intuitive home. Visit Epsilon Technologies today to get started on your smart home journey. Epsilon Technologies is 1st official Distributor of LifeSmart UAE & Oman.

Frequently Asked Questions

What are LifeSmart Smart Home solutions?

LifeSmart Smart Home solutions include a range of smart devices like lighting control, climate management, security systems, and automation hubs designed to make your home more efficient, secure, and convenient.

How does LifeSmart Smart Lighting control work?

LifeSmart Smart Lighting control allows you to adjust your home’s lighting through a smartphone app or voice commands. You can set schedules, automate lights based on motion, and customize brightness levels.

Can I control LifeSmart Smart Home devices remotely?

Yes, with the LifeSmart app, you can control all your connected devices remotely from anywhere, ensuring you have access to lighting, security, and climate controls even when you’re away from home.

How does LifeSmart’s security system enhance home safety?

LifeSmart’s security system includes smart cameras, motion sensors, and door/window sensors. You can monitor your home in real-time, receive alerts, and control your security settings remotely.

[somfyindianew]

"Upgrade Your Home with Somfy: Best Curtain Motor"

Bring your house to the next level with the finest Somfy wireless curtain motor. Somfy, with its innovative technology, is going to make the control easier, more convenient, and stylish. Easy to set up and energy-efficient, Somfy's curtain motors work remotely to offer the perfect solution in today's intelligent houses. Experience a new level of living in your room with the best in home automation.

[atsmarthome]

AT Smart Home

Welcome to AT Smart Home SG, your one-stop solution for home automation systems. We understand that diving into smart home technology can be daunting, whether you're unsure where to start, worried about managing your project, concerned about high costs, or uncertain about system operations and compatibility. Our comprehensive services include personalized consultation, custom solution planning, end-to-end project management, on-site visits, budget management, sourcing and integrating the best devices, setting up automated scenarios, and providing detailed tutorials.

We offer a wide range of open-source smart devices from renowned brands like Zenterra Lighting, Ecodo Smart Light, MOWE, Orlant, Dooya Pro, and Hafele Door Locks, ensuring top-quality and compatibility. Our unique approach addresses all your concerns, providing tailored solutions to make smart home technology accessible, easy to use, and affordable. While we focus on building the perfect smart home for you, we are also committed to enhancing our online presence to serve you better. Transform your home into a smart haven with AT Smart Home SG - where innovation meets simplicity.

Page URL: https://atsmarthomesg.com/ Contact Email: adrian@atsmarthomesg.com Contact Number : +65 8779 3224 Address : Oxley Bizhub, AT Smart Home Office

[lascalasblog]

How to integrate luxury smart condo technology seamlessly into your home?

In the ever-changing style of modern living, luxury smart condos are setting a new standard for convenience, comfort, and sophistication. With advancements in home automation technology, it's no longer just about having a place to live – it's about creating an immersive and seamless living experience that caters to your every need. To read more visit

#Smarthomeautomationvancouver         

#hometheatrevancouver                

#homeautoamtionservice 

#Smart home condos

#condo Automation

#Luxury smart condos

#Condo home automation

#Condo smart home technology

#Smart home condo automation systems

#smart home condo

#smart house condo

#condo smart

#smart condominium

#Home Theatre Installation Vancouver

#Home Automation Vancouver

#Smart Home Vancouver

#Home Theatre Vancouver

#Smart Home Automation Vancouver

#Home Automation Systems Vancouver

#Home Automation Vancouver Bc

#Motorized Blinds Vancouver

#Home automation service

#Home Automation Company Vancouver

#Vancouver Home Automation

[zazaiafe2]

Reprogramming your mind isn't "just" about affirming.A guide to creating durable and anchored assumptions for shifting and manifestation.

1) The myth of the "subconscious sponge"

Many in the shifting/manifestation community believe that the subconscious absorbs everything like a sponge.

But this is only true for young children (under 7 years old). At that age, they have almost no critical filter, which allows ideas to imprint directly on the subconscious.

-> For teens and adults? That filter is very active. It sorts, judges, and sometimes actively rejects affirmations it doesn't find credible.(It’s more or less active depending on the person and their profile that's why some people struggle more than others.)

2) But what exactly is the conscious filter?

The conscious filter (or “critical faculty”) is a mental barrier between your conscious mind (the one that doubts, analyzes, judges) and your subconscious (the one that automates).

It is influenced by:

- Your past experiences

- Your stress level

- Your vigilance level

- Your neurodivergence (e.g., autism, ADHD, anxiety)

- Your self-criticism or inner dialogue

-> Repeating “power affirmations” can sometimes strengthen this filter instead of weakening it,especially if your conscious mind doesn’t believe them.

3) Does spirituality deserve a meritocracy?

Many shifting discourses say: “If you really want it, you’ll shift / manifest.”

That’s false and dangerously guilt-inducing.

-> We all have different cognitive profiles. Some absorb faster, others have a noisy mind.

It’s not a lack of effort/assumption/persistance,you just need a different path.

-> Letting go doesn’t mean being perfect or emotionless. Sometimes, sadness or calm is more suitable for shifting than anxious euphoria.

An article about meritocracy

4)How to deactivate the conscounes filter

Here are techniques that work better than repeating affirmations:

- Hypnagogic state (between waking and sleep): your filter is weakened → perfect moment to anchor ideas.

- Visualization + real emotion: authentic emotion = filter bypass.+ Light hypnotic induction: breathing, progressive relaxation, or guided self-hypnosis.

- Metaphors / stories: the critical mind lets its guard down.

- Whisper instead of saying it out loud: the subconscious responds more to intimacy than insistence.

- Don’t force an idea, but gently infuse it.

- Listen to subliminals in a relaxed state.

5)Assuming ≠ Being positive

Assuming a reality is not about forcing toxic smiles.

To “assume” something means to internally inhabit it as a truth. And that doesn't always come with joy.

Example:

You can assume you're safe while feeling a peaceful sadness.

You can assume you’ll shift even if you’re in a neutral, melancholic, or tired state.

The key emotion is inner acceptance, not blind positivity.

6)Consciousness,ego, subconscious: who does what?

Conscious → Analyzes, plans, judges

Ego → Wants to control, resists change

Subconscious → Automates, believes emotionally repeated messages

When you want to manifest or shift, you need to calm the conscious and the ego so the subconscious can accept.

And if you're experiencing mental overload?

Your whole system goes into resistance mode, no matter how many affirmations you repeat.

7)One size doesn't fit all

The biggest problem in spirituality or manifestation: trying to apply one-size-fits-all methods.

Most advice might help some profiles but not everyone.

-> A neurodivergent person, a traumatized person, a child, or a stressed adult: they will never manifest in the same way.

-> Customize your approaches:

If you're very critical → use metaphors, hypnosis, play.

If you're sensory → use physical sensations in visualization.

If you're hyperactive or inconsistent → find short scripts or routines, not rigid ones.

8) Tips for manifesting / shifting sustainably

Favor mental softness over intense effort.

- Use calm or deep emotion, not necessarily joyful.

- Introduce roles: "If I were already in my desired reality / with my manifestation, how would I act?"

- Use the pre-sleep state to infuse your mind.

Be subtle, not robotic: one sincere affirmation > 1000 mechanical ones.

(Even if that can work for some profiles)

9) Summary: true power is adaptation

You aren't broken

-> Your brain is not broken.

-> You are not lacking in “positive vibrations”.

You just need a bridge between you and your subconscious, and that bridge isn’t always built with “affirmations + persistence”.

It can be built with:

- Acceptance

- Gentleness

- Hypnosis

- Rest

- Authentic emotions

- Meditation

My favorite alpha waves for manifestation.

And others.

(Translated from my TikTok post)

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Capitol Punishment Prologue (II)

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 4.2K

Prologue | Masterlist | Part I

As you and your mentor entered a room with the tube that would put you into the arena, your fear finally came to the forefront of your mind. Your breath became erratic as you confronted your almost guaranteed imminent death. Haymitch noticed your sudden stiffness, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re smarter than any of them. You only have to do this once. Okay?”

Seeing his sincerity and hope, your facade broke. “I don’t wanna die,” you finally admitted, tears pricking your eyes.

That broke his heart. You had spent so long convincing yourself and everyone else you were okay with dying. As upset as he had been because you were so willing to leave him, he admired your composure. But now there was a scared girl in your place. Haymitch knew you couldn’t win. You had only scored a 3 in your training. No one would bet on that. And while you had managed to survive alone in 12 for eight years, maybe you had been right. Maybe you were only able to survive in the Seam where people were indifferent and sometimes even kind. Here, your death would only benefit others.

Pushing all those thoughts aside for your sake, Haymitch gained the slightest smile. “There she is,” he murmured. “I know you can do it. You’ve actually struggled to survive on your own. The others probably can’t say the same. C’mere,” he said, pulling you into a hug. You reveled in the first comforting touch in god knows how long. His chin rested on top of your head. “You’re gonna run away from the cornucopia and then steal supplies. No fighting, okay? You’re gonna fly under the radar. That’s how you survived in 12, right?”

“Thirty seconds,” an automated voice came over the speaker, telling you that you had to get in the tube.

Haymitch finally pulled away. “I’ll see you soon,” he tried his hardest to smile, wiping away your tears. You returned his strained smile before unsteadily making your way to the tube.

Haymitch kept his facade up until you were out of view, having been lifted into the arena. He almost immediately pulled out his flask, taking a deep swig.

~

Being pushed up into the arena you were blinded by the sun and immediately confronted with a nearly unbearable heat. Gathering your bearings, you observed the arena. It looked like some sort of canyon. From what you could see, it wasn’t very wide in some spots. The largely empty field surrounding the cornucopia looked to stretch about a mile behind you before you could spot some trees. It’d be a long time before you could get cover, you just hoped that the others would be too distracted fighting each other to notice you running for a mile.

Turning your attention back to the cornucopia you spotted all sorts of weapons and supplies. Based on the heat you were tempted to try to grab some water but you kept Haymitch’s words in mind. Not to mention that if you went towards the cornucopia you lost valuable time to get to cover.

15… the timer read. 10… 5… 3, 2, 1! The buzzer went and you immediately turned, running for the trees.

You ran for god knows how long. You weren’t sure if anyone was following you but you were too afraid to look back. Afraid of turning around to see your fellow children slaughtering one another. Afraid of seeing someone chasing you, and even worse, slowing down enough, incidentally, so they could catch you. So you kept going until you finally reached the trees and even further after that. You finally let yourself slow to a stop in order to catch your breath.

Completely alone and without any supplies, you knew you needed to find someone soon so you wouldn’t die of exposure or be completely defenseless. But upon hearing a twig snap, you came to the conclusion that you weren’t in the position to run anyone yet so you continued running.

~

You eventually moved to the edge of the forest, figuring that if any singular tribute had set up camp in the open you’d be able to spot them easier. You had spent the better part of the afternoon learning to climb trees. While you lacked the muscle to actually climb, you made up for it with a malnourished frame that allowed you to climb up tree limbs that would snap under a career’s weight. You eventually figured it out, fortunately in time to see a fire spark up about a hundred yards from you.

But as you were watching the fire the Capitol music began to play, blue light flooding the sky. Looking up, you could see the fallen being projected onto the night sky. You counted as they went. The District 3 girl, District 4 girl, District 6 boy, both tributes from District 8 and 11, and finally Alder. Eight in total. Fairly low bloodbath, you had seen as many as 3/4 of the tributes get wiped out in the first 10 minutes before.

You weren’t sure how to feel about Alder. Yeah, he had been a dick but he was still a person. A person you knew. Who had a life and a family. You were sure those who knew him were wishing it had been you instead of him. Hell, you were only alive because Haymitch had only mentored you. And he had told you to run away. You were also relieved you wouldn’t have to kill him. Trying to shake off the knowledge of your district-mate’s demise, you turned your attention back to the fire.

Whoever had started a fire in the middle of a field wasn’t completely stupid. They were surrounded by a few boulders and rocks, judging by the weakness of the fire you wouldn’t have spotted it if you weren’t up in the trees.

You waited for a while until the fire was out, signaling that the tribute was asleep. So you crept from the trees, praying that this poor child you were about to kill had supplies so it’s be worth it. You couldn’t really afford to let your humanity get in the way if you were going to have any shot at getting home.

~

Haymitch watched the games from the penthouse. This had been the first year in a while he had actually sat down to watch the games. He never bothered to watch the hopeful kids he was forced to meet get slaughtered. But he watched this year, proud of you for running away and figuring out how to climb.

The cameras had only been focused on the careers ever since night fell. He supposed everyone was alone because when no fighting was going on, they only played the footage of ally interactions. The careers had formed a group. All of them except for the District 4 girl who had been killed with a spear to the chest while fighting over it with the boy from 7 during the bloodbath.

The careers had set up camp, the boy from 1 already establishing himself as their leader, having killed the boys from Districts 6 and 11, and then both tributes from 8.

But the coverage of their little bonding session was interrupted by cameras focused on the sleeping girl from 5 and you, creeping across the field.

“What do we have here?” Caesar asked the audience and Lucius Caecilius, this year’s other announcer, rhetorically.

“It looks like the District 12 girl, Y/N L/N, is on the move. The question is, if Necole Carrick wakes up, who will win in a fight?”

“My money is on Carrick. She has supplies, L/N is completely defenseless,” Caesar explained.

“Let’s see,” Caecilius said as you finally reached the girl from 5.

Haymitch watched in anticipation as you perched yourself on a rock, just above the sleeping girl. He held his breath, could you actually do this? His heart stopped as you carefully reached down, slipping the knife out of the girl’s hand. He watched you sigh in relief as you grabbed it. The camera was focused on your face as you seemed to steel yourself before softly leaping onto the ground next to her before quickly swiping the blade through the girl’s carotid artery. You jumped as the canon went off, showing the audience how shaky you were. Tears were pouring down your face as you grabbed the backpack and any other supplies before running out of the field, safely into the trees.

~

By the time the sun came back up, the tears on your face had dried and there was a puddle of vomit at the base of the tree. You had found some dried meat in the pack so you had nibbled a little on that, careful not to waste your rations. But eating had helped you stop shaking enough to climb down the tree. Unfortunately, the pack hadn’t contained any water, but it did have an empty water bottle so you set off to find water.

You had stuck to the walls of the canyons, figuring that if you had to climb them, you could. There wasn’t much room to grip them but it was possible. Fortunately, the trees still provided enough shade for your pursuit of water to not be dire.

As you continued on you became less confident until you noticed something. You couldn’t be sure but you were pretty sure you had reached a point where the walls of the canyon were curving into you. But as you continued on, you found an opening in the wall. It was mostly covered by vegetation and would go unnoticed had you not been following this wall for hours. Seeing as there were few reasons for you not to go in, you went, finding that it sloped down into the ground. Continuing on, it became lighter. Streams of light came from thinly covered holes in the ceiling, up into what you realized was the main arena. It was a miracle you hadn’t fallen down here.

As you were realizing this may be a good place to hide, you could hear it. Running water. You practically cried in relief, moving closer to it. As you reached a small stream, you immediately kneeled to the ground, scooping the water into your hands. You had learned that running water was less likely to contain dangerous pathogens or bacteria but you should still boil it. Regardless, you didn’t care. You finally had water.

After cleaning yourself off a little and filling your water bottle you continued on, following the stream. But as you went, you heard footsteps above you. Making sure to stay out of view from the streams of lights, you waited for the footsteps to be gone. But they never went away, instead, the boy from District 10, the boy who had ogled at you in the elevator, fell into the cavern. You didn’t waste a second jumping on top of him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as disoriented as you thought he would’ve been because he tossed you off effortlessly.

The next thing you knew he was on top of you, his fists wildly hitting you. Getting your feet under him, you were able to kick him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Distracting him enough that you could kick him off of you. You fumbled for the knife in your pack as you noticed him crawling towards his fallen sword. Seeing him, you disregarded the knife in your bag, going towards the sword. You managed to reach it before him but just before he could grab the handle, you had to grab the blade. You nicked your hand but were too high on adrenaline to notice. You slipped it from his grasp before grabbing the handle, swinging it down into his head before running off.

You could hear his screams of agony as you ran back to the entrance, afraid his screams would draw other tributes. You certainly didn’t want to be trapped down here with the careers, being trapped in a canyon with them was bad enough. But by the time you reached the surface, a canon went off. Unless another tribute had been killed, at least District 10’s suffering had ended.

You no longer felt safe on the ground, you couldn’t just stay in one tree, and you certainly wouldn’t be able to just jump from tree to tree so you began to look to the canyons. There were ledges higher up you could theoretically walk across, it would just be a struggle to reach them. So you prepared yourself, subjecting yourself to bleeding fingers until you finally reached a ledge you could actually stand on. It was about 10 feet off the ground and went decently far. So you walked back towards the Cornucopia, occasionally climbing down and up as ledges got too thin and you had to go to another one.

You continued on like this for a while until you spotted the blonde hair of District 4’s male tribute. He was alone, unusual for a career tribute. You made sure he was alone before silently making your way down the canyon. He didn’t notice you as you followed him for a bit. Eventually, he stopped, turning to the canyon wall before unzipping his pants. You hesitated for a second, not wanting to be put in that position but this was your best opportunity so you took it.

As he finished, you crept up behind him, quickly wrapping your arm around his head, pulling it back so you could easily draw your knife across his throat. He tried to scream, but you cut so deep he couldn’t. This time you watched, blood pouring from his throat as the life left his eyes. Once the canon went off, you knew you wouldn’t have much time so you quickly took the belt lined with blades before running off, not wanting to risk the other careers seeing you as you tried to climb.

Reaching another remote area, you slung the blades around your hips before climbing up into a tree for the night. You hadn’t slept in nearly two days so you knew you’d have to figure something out tonight.

As you were settling down you heard chimes from above. Looking up at the sky you found a silver parachute floating down towards you. It got caught in the leaves of the branch you were on, forcing you to precariously balance on the end to reach it. How ironic it would be if you died in the Capitol’s game while reaching the thing the Capitol gifted you to survive.

You managed to grab it, settling back where you had been before opening it. First, you saw a note.

Good job, sweetheart - Haymitch

You couldn’t help but be embarrassed of the heat building in your cheeks but you tried to ignore it. Opening up the container you found some sort of salve. Unsure of what it was you reached a finger into it, immediately noticing a soothing sensation on your torn up finger. You looked at it, noticing the blood was stopping so you quickly spread it over your marred hands and any other random scrapes you had gained from all the climbing practice.

You sighed at the soothing relief, resting against the grunt of the tree.

~

“Well, it’s been an unusually bloody second day, this looks like this may be the quickest Hunger Games in a while,” Caesar recapped for the audience.

“Yes, it has,” Caecilius agreed. “For those of you unable to tune in today the allies from Districts 1, 2, and 4 decided to split up today. Unusual behavior for this alliance as usually the members of this group, known as the careers, stick together until they start fighting one another. But they had a fairly successful day. Collectively they eliminated the male tributes from Districts 3 and 5, the girls from 6, 7, and 10, as well as both tributes from 9.”

“And in a surprise, Y/N L/N has eliminated the males from Districts 4 and 10. I’d like to remind everyone that she scored a 3 in her training evaluation,” Caesar reminded, looking genuinely surprised at her success.

“Clever one, she is. She kept the careers’ focus away from her. Only a matter of time before the remaining careers figure out she’s the one who killed their ally.”

“They seem to be figuring it out right now,” Caesar laughed as the cameras focused on the remaining careers.

Today's deaths were being projected into the sky and they had noticed their ally’s death. They were currently trying to track the canon fire today to figure out who could have done it. Trying to determine whether or not the killer had already been eliminated. But as they discussed they failed to mention the possibility of District 12’s female tribute.

“Oh, seems they’re forgetting someone,” Caesar laughed.

“Can you blame them?” Caecilius laughed along with Caesar. “I don’t believe a female tribute from 12 has made it past the first day since the 50th games when Haymitch Abernathy won.” Caesar murmured in agreement before he changed everyone’s attention to recounting today’s deaths, playing them on the screen.

“I’ll just say, everyone better watch out for L/N, she’s a sneaky one,” he commented as the video of Piers’ death was played.

~

You were woken up by a canon. Based on last night’s light show it was just you and the careers. Fuck. You were their target now. Unless they were stupid enough to think they were the only ones left and they were killing each other right now, saving you some trouble. But you weren’t quite that lucky as you heard voices.

You cursed internally as you realized the careers were literally walking below you now. You could hear them. “Who the hell is left?” a female voice demanded. “I’m pretty sure everyone else is gone.” You rolled your eyes, why would she admit that?

“No,” a male voice interrupted. “There’s one person left. I’m not sure who but eight died the first day, ten yesterday, and we just killed one more. There’s one more person left.”

“Well then, who the fuck is it?” She then began listing both tributes from each district, including you. “Who else is left?”

“I don’t know, but the math doesn’t lie. Eight plus ten plus one equals nineteen. Twenty-four minus nineteen equals five.”

“Whatever,” another male voice interrupted. “We’ll do what we did yesterday. If we split up, we can find whoever is left.”

“But that’s how Piers died!” the other girl protested.

“You know only one of us get out, right?” the last male who spoke corrected her. “If we kill whoever else is left, we ensure it’s one of us. And we all know one of us deserves to go home more than this last pest, right?” The others murmured in agreement before splitting off to find you.

As you waited to ensure you were alone you steeled yourself. You’ve already killed three people. If you just left everything behind and killed four more people, you could end this today and go home. But before you climbed down, you heard the chiming of another parachute. Looking up, you found another silver parachute floating down towards you. You reached out, letting it fall into your palm. Opening up, you found a note.

Get your strength up before you win this thing - Haymitch

You couldn’t help the smile that crept over your lips as you opened the container, revealing a stew. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were as you quickly ate, uncaring that you didn’t have any utensils. By the time you had finished, you had calmed down enough to set off on your mission.

It didn’t take long before you found the girl from District 2. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as dumb as District 4’s male tribute because she noticed you coming. She immediately chucked a spear at you as she turned to face you. You were able to move enough so it wouldn’t pierce your torso but it did manage to graze your shoulder.

Seeing as she didn’t manage to kill you, she immediately began running. She was fast. So, doing the only thing you could think of, you threw one of the knives in your belt at her. You were surprised the blade found its mark, sinking into her back. She fell but she wasn’t done yet so you walked over, taking her spear and stabbing it into the back of her neck.

As you continued on you noticed the thinly covered spots in the ground. Realizing that moving around unseen was a tremendous advantage, you slipped underground, ensuring you didn’t break anything in your descent. You first located the stream, replenishing your water before continuing on. You listened for footsteps as you went, almost giving up until you heard the light footsteps of who you assumed to be District 1’s female tribute.

Following the path of her footsteps, you tracked her, waiting until she was close enough to a hole for you to make your move. As soon as she was, you jumped, pulling yourself out of the earth. You had been planning to drag her underground but based on her scream, she saw you. You cursed as you dragged yourself up, giving chase to her.

She wasn’t nearly as fast as the girl from 2 because you caught up with her easily, tackling her to the ground. She struggled against you, starting a flurry of swinging limbs as both of you tried to get the upper hand. She was a lot bigger than you, attributed to her better nutrition, but she still struggled against you, screaming the names of her allies.

As you continued struggling you realized you’d have to shut her up quickly and get the hell out of there before it became two or three against one.

You found the strength to pin her, sitting on her back before sending a knife into her jugular. Just as the canon went off, you heard a yell. “Historia!” the boy from District 2 called in horror. Shit. He was huge. You’d never be able to beat him by brute force. So you ran. You went for the nearest tree that didn’t look impossible to climb but once you were about three feet off the ground, you felt a yank pull you down to the ground. Hard. You fell with so much force you were pretty sure he broke a rib because your chest exploded in pain.

You watched in horror as he swung his sword up, poised to lodge itself in your head but, with much effort, you rolled away just in time. You struggled to your feet, still holding your ribs. You threw a knife as best as you could which lodged itself into his arm. But he just ripped it out before running towards you with a sword. You jumped out of the way, once again, just in time. You knew this wouldn’t last, you were way more injured than him. As he ran at you again, you prepared to accept your death until you heard a yell. Opening your eyes you saw half of him was underground, leaving only his torso still above the earth. The only reason he hadn’t fallen completely through was because the sword sticking through his chest was lodged in some rocks, keeping him propped up.

You gasped at the sight. He looked up at you, tears in his eyes. “What are you looking at?!” he yelled. “C’mon, you did this! Kill me!” he demanded. His face was full of rage and pain, so much so you couldn’t tell if he genuinely wanted you to end his suffering or not. You would have if it weren’t for his flailing arms you were sure would try to drag you to death with him. So you turned, leaving him screaming as you stumbled towards the cornucopia to finish this.

You continued on for what seemed like forever. The pain in your chest was only getting worse as breathing became harder. The only, very slight, relief was the sound of the canon as the boy from District 2 finally died. The only question was whether he had succumbed to his injuries or if the final tribute, the boy from District 1, had put him out of his misery and told him to be careful of you. Either way, you knew you had to get the drop on District 1. You couldn’t beat him by brute force, especially in this state. So you went to the Cornucopia, waiting for him inside and trying not to fall asleep.

~

“C’mon, don’t fall asleep,” Haymitch murmured to himself as he literally sat on the edge of his seat.

The sponsors who had sent you food and medicine sat around him, watching too. Everyone was shocked when you started picking off the careers, even more so when you managed to avoid death at District 2’s hands. He had nearly let the tears fall when the boy had dragged you to the ground, clearly injuring you severely. But you managed to survive and now you just had one more obstacle to overcome.

“Oh, here comes Blackford,” Caesar announced as the boy from District 1 ran out towards the cornucopia.

He stood in front of it, arms stretched out, with a sword in one hand. “C’mon! I know you’re out there,” he bellowed. “Let’s finish this!”

“Here she comes,” Caecilius announced as you slipped out of the cornucopia. You stepped up behind the boy, wrapping your arms around him, blade poised exactly like you had when you killed Piers.

Murmurs of excitement grew the closer you got to him, and cheers exploded as the canon went off and the boy from 1 fell at your feet. There were several congratulations to Haymitch and your sponsors as he tried not to cry in relief. You were alive. You were gonna be okay.

Prologue | Masterlist | Part I

[autumnrainwrites]

The Witch and the Lighthouse

It was a terrible night. Wind howled down upon the coast, pregnant with rain and spitting tongues of forked lightning. Across the city by the sea, people and witches and their dolls huddled together in darkness, left without electricity by the hand of the gods.

High up on a headland overlooking the bay, the lighthouse witch sat in her dining room, reading old pulps on her tablet and listening to the hum of the backup generator below. On the table before her, the last mouthful of tea cooled in her cup beside a crumb-filled dish. 

Across the table, by the door, her doll stood waiting, a demure smile on its lips and a yellow rain hat on its head. It was a night like many others the two had faced. Most likely, the tower's automated systems would be enough, but there was always a risk of-

beeeeeeeeeeep!

beeeeeeeeeeep!

beeeeeeeeeeep!

The witch stood at the first sound of the alarm rang out, setting down her tablet and pulling her raincoat about her shoulders. Wordlessly, the doll handed her the wide-brimmed hat in its hand, and followed her up the narrow stair.

At the top of the tower, they found darkness, and the blaring alarm. 

"Lantern, dear," the witch said, her tone brisk as she stepped into the glass cupola. Rain beat heavy against the thick panes, filling the space with a rattling din. A second later, a soft yellow glow filled the chamber, radiating from an electric lantern held in the doll's hand. In the light, the witch knelt and opened a maintenance panel under the great, dark tower lamp.

A whispered incantation sent her mind into the wires, flying at the speed of electric thought through the whole structure of the lamp. There. A bit of water damage, a few corroded wires. It should be an easy fix. 

"Cut power, Minaret."

The witch shuffled on her hands and knees over to another panel, this one set into the floor. A tap of her witch key opens the latch, even as her other hand impatiently pulled at the handle. She waited just long enough for her doll to pull the lever shutting off the electric current before plunging her hand into the wires. A few seconds later she had the damaged cords in her grasp. For a witch like her, it was nothing at all to spell-solder them together with a flame chant. 

She gave her doll a nod, and Minaret threw the switch back closed. Nothing happened.

Twice more, the witch diagnosed the lamp's system, and twice more her emergency repairs failed to revive the light. They were running out of time. Both witch and doll knew that there was a ship expected tonight, and that the ship needed the light of the tower to safely enter the bay. 

"Miss Havershem," Minaret said, its voice soft and quivering, "they will need us. We don't have a choice."

She looked up at it, eyes widening in realization. "No! I will not risk that. We will not risk that. I forbid it."

But the spell-words did not connect, dissipating in the face of a doll's Purpose. Her ban denied, the witch rose to her feet in fear, reaching for her doll, turning to the only other tool she had. Love.

"Minaret, I can't risk what you ask of me. We've given too much to make this life we have together. What if it goes wrong? What if you-"

"Miss," the doll said, smiling with sad resolve, "This one needs you to unbind it."

Wordlessly, the witch clutched her doll and sobbed. Then, with a trembling hand, she pushed her key into the doll's heart, turned, and opened up its being.

A white light filled the space, blinding her entirely. She heard the sound of glass cracking as she fell to the floor, felt wind and wet against her face, heard the howling gale and pounding rain and the memories of a song unsung. The light overwhelmed everything. It burned her on the inside, even as she shut her eyes tight. Her selfishness, her greed, her cruelty, her lust, her drive to dominate and desire to abuse, everything in her which could be called wicked: all of it turned to agony under the touch of the light. But to her kindness and her compassion, her loyalty and her love, the light felt like nothing so much as the kiss of the sun on a sleepy afternoon.

Minutes, hours, she didn't know how long had passed, when the light began to dim at last. For a few seconds, she could not even remember why that was so important. Then, she opened her eyes in dread. 

Three panes of the glass wall were gone entirely, or nearly so. Others bore cracks. The rain fell slowly, and in the east the witch could make out the light of false dawn. Shards of glass covered the rain-slicked floor. And by the gap in the wall, next to where a hollow manikin of porcelain and lace lay, there stood the angel.

It had been staring out to sea, but turned at the sound of the witch's stirring, its golden eyes unreadable, ancient... weary? Above its head, a simple halo slowly spun. The space around it was still bright, still painful to look at, but the witch refused to avert her eyes again.

"Minaret-"

"That is not my name, witch."

She flinched, started over: "Joyous Song Resounding from the Minarets in the City of God's Delight, did I not fulfill my promise?"

The angel said nothing.

"We had a covenant. I ask you, was I false to you?"

Still, it remained silent.

"Why are you leaving me?"

At last, the angel simply said, "I have a Purpose to fulfill."

The words hurt. Almost, the witch closed her eyes again, but she resisted. She must not lose sight of the angel, for even a moment.

"You wanted to be rid of it. You wanted my Purpose, not His. I gave you what you wanted. I protected you from this, from Him. I thought I made you happy. Minaret, did I not make you happy?"

Tears mingled with rainwater on her cheeks, hot against cold. But the angel only turned away, spreading its wings. So, with nothing to lose, the witch gathered up all her power and stretched out her arm. A chain of darkness shot from her hand, wrapping around the angel's ankle even as its wing beat once, then twice, then three times. 

Then they passed from that space, to another.

Worlds and stars and nebulae whirled past them. The light grew more intense, until it blinded the witch once more, then more intense still. Her whole being burned, body and mind and soul. She realized in terror that she could not hold the angel back, only slow it by the minutest amount. A part of her despaired; a part of her laughed. Imagine that, a witch dragged face-first into Heaven by an angel's shackle. She might even have time to pay respect to the cracked corner of the High God's throne before He smeared her essence across the stars. 

In that moment, her only regret was not telling Minaret enough times how much she loved it. So, she said it once more.

"I love you."

Time sped and slowed and spun out of all reasoning. She passed in and out of consciousness. Golden eyes stared deep into her own. She sung something, an old song. Only... who had taught her? She was young and old again. The universe forgot she existed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The witch awoke mid-chant. She was in the lighthouse again, kneeling beside her doll's vessel with her witch key in hand. Chains of shadow and black light and blood connected her body to a white flame studded with golden eyes, but a blue chain connected it to the sky. Somehow, she knew the flame was fighting with her against the blue chain. She redoubled her efforts, singing her spells with every mote of magic in her being, drawing in more and more from the tower, from the electricity in the wires, from the ground below. Slowly, painfully, she forced the flame into the opening in the vessel. Then, she snapped it closed, pushed in the key, and turned the lock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Neither Raleigh Winters nor Melissa Havershem said anything for the moment, once they'd shared their stories. Instead, the two witches drank their tea in silence, exhaustedly enjoying the clean air and bustle of the city after a rainstorm. Raleigh had the peppermint tea they favored, and Havershem the black tea she needed.

Finally, Raleigh cleared their throat and asked, "So, what of the lamp and the cupola?"

"I tell you about the most harrowing spellwork in my life, and you ask about if I got the windows fixed?" Havershem chuckled, then finished her tea. "I have a work team up there right now. The city's handling it, since despite the issues I did get that cargo ship in safely. And how's Euthamia today?"

Raleigh shrugged. "Better. Still a bit fragile, but you know how dolls can be. I have Aster looking after it, to make sure it doesn't push itself too hard to make up for last night."

The two lapsed into silence again. When Raleigh finished their tea, they smiled at Havershem and said, "Well, I'd best be getting back to them."

"I imagine so. Managing six dolls sounds like a lot."

"It is, but they're all very dear to me. Speaking of, I doubt I'd need to tell you twice to get back to Minaret and give it a good hug."

And so with a few farewells, the witches left the cafe and returned home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the bedroom of the lighthouse, a doll rested in the arms of its witch. It nearly lost her, but it didn't. And nothing made it happier.

[dragqueenstarscream]

going to be honest if soundwave IS 'the eyes and ears of the decepticons' hes either going blind or he needs to be fired. mutiny talk w knockout and starscream aside, there's like 4-5 different instances of autobots AND rouge decepticons just waltzing onto the nemesis and it seemingly not triggering any security measure. hell, in the armada episode bulkhead doesnt even end up on the nemesis on PURPOSE, its bc of a massive oversight with an automated energon gathering system (also the only time we see energon gathered via automation and with no vehicons in tfp, but i digress...) and hes then able to take advantage of the situation to blow up the main power chamber! to say nothing of the 5 starscreams also getting on the ship the exact same episode. honestly the nemesis is just a security nightmare in general, both arcee and ratchet (and i think the humans?) are able to get in and log onto their computers with no issue like theres 0 passwords and they can just get right into their computer network so if soundwave is in charge like people say he is hes not doing much to actually lock that down

and tbh, i feel like soundwave's loyalty is massively overblown by the fandom. when knockout and starscream petition him to take megatron off lifesupport his reaction definitely doesnt read like he particularly cares either way bc he doesnt move to stop them at all, and in fact the only thing he DOES react over is the cortical patch that got plugged into megatron-but even then, he doesnt move to protect megatron from the autobots who infiltrated the nemesis and hijacked their leader's mind, he leaves that entirely up to starscream! the guy who 5 minutes ago was arguing the case to have megatron put down! i genuinely feel like based off his behavior that if the autobots hadnt been there that day he probably WOULD have let them pull the plug

its not like i think hes particularly loyal to someone else like starscream either, but he only really snitches to megatron about him once or twice and most of megatron's grievances against things starscream does are what he himself remembers bc the dark energon gives him plot recall powers, not things soundwave brought to his attention. he honestly seemed to dislike airachnid more if only bc he actually reacts to her attempts at usurpation (and even is in part responsible for megatron deciding to try to off her)

my pet theory (other than that the writers didnt know how to handle him) is that hes super over the war in general bc how else do you explain him making a beeline for the electrified consoles in the episode where trypticon woke up 2 minutes after the decepticon high command watched a vehcion get knocked out doing that exact same thing?

so i know that all of the security breaches and soundwave's general nonchalance about them could be excused by shit writing, but that's boring and lame, so i'm gonna throw in my own two theories.

1.) soundwave actually still is that loyal to megatron, and he lets this shit slide on purpose because he loves watching megatron beat the hell out of intruders. it's entertaining for him.

2.) he stopped caring about the intruders a while ago, either because he knows that he still has the upper hand and doesn't feel the need to attack or because he's so done with the war that he just wants to keep to himself.

either of these would be more interesting than chalking it up to bad writing, even though tfp does have its flaws.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Humans are not perfectly vigilant

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then PROVIDENCE (Apr 12), and beyond!

Here's a fun AI story: a security researcher noticed that large companies' AI-authored source-code repeatedly referenced a nonexistent library (an AI "hallucination"), so he created a (defanged) malicious library with that name and uploaded it, and thousands of developers automatically downloaded and incorporated it as they compiled the code:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/28/ai_bots_hallucinate_software_packages/

These "hallucinations" are a stubbornly persistent feature of large language models, because these models only give the illusion of understanding; in reality, they are just sophisticated forms of autocomplete, drawing on huge databases to make shrewd (but reliably fallible) guesses about which word comes next:

https://dl.acm.org/doi/10.1145/3442188.3445922

Guessing the next word without understanding the meaning of the resulting sentence makes unsupervised LLMs unsuitable for high-stakes tasks. The whole AI bubble is based on convincing investors that one or more of the following is true:

There are low-stakes, high-value tasks that will recoup the massive costs of AI training and operation;

There are high-stakes, high-value tasks that can be made cheaper by adding an AI to a human operator;

Adding more training data to an AI will make it stop hallucinating, so that it can take over high-stakes, high-value tasks without a "human in the loop."

These are dubious propositions. There's a universe of low-stakes, low-value tasks – political disinformation, spam, fraud, academic cheating, nonconsensual porn, dialog for video-game NPCs – but none of them seem likely to generate enough revenue for AI companies to justify the billions spent on models, nor the trillions in valuation attributed to AI companies:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

The proposition that increasing training data will decrease hallucinations is hotly contested among AI practitioners. I confess that I don't know enough about AI to evaluate opposing sides' claims, but even if you stipulate that adding lots of human-generated training data will make the software a better guesser, there's a serious problem. All those low-value, low-stakes applications are flooding the internet with botshit. After all, the one thing AI is unarguably very good at is producing bullshit at scale. As the web becomes an anaerobic lagoon for botshit, the quantum of human-generated "content" in any internet core sample is dwindling to homeopathic levels:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/14/inhuman-centipede/#enshittibottification

This means that adding another order of magnitude more training data to AI won't just add massive computational expense – the data will be many orders of magnitude more expensive to acquire, even without factoring in the additional liability arising from new legal theories about scraping:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

That leaves us with "humans in the loop" – the idea that an AI's business model is selling software to businesses that will pair it with human operators who will closely scrutinize the code's guesses. There's a version of this that sounds plausible – the one in which the human operator is in charge, and the AI acts as an eternally vigilant "sanity check" on the human's activities.

For example, my car has a system that notices when I activate my blinker while there's another car in my blind-spot. I'm pretty consistent about checking my blind spot, but I'm also a fallible human and there've been a couple times where the alert saved me from making a potentially dangerous maneuver. As disciplined as I am, I'm also sometimes forgetful about turning off lights, or waking up in time for work, or remembering someone's phone number (or birthday). I like having an automated system that does the robotically perfect trick of never forgetting something important.

There's a name for this in automation circles: a "centaur." I'm the human head, and I've fused with a powerful robot body that supports me, doing things that humans are innately bad at.

That's the good kind of automation, and we all benefit from it. But it only takes a small twist to turn this good automation into a nightmare. I'm speaking here of the reverse-centaur: automation in which the computer is in charge, bossing a human around so it can get its job done. Think of Amazon warehouse workers, who wear haptic bracelets and are continuously observed by AI cameras as autonomous shelves shuttle in front of them and demand that they pick and pack items at a pace that destroys their bodies and drives them mad:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

Automation centaurs are great: they relieve humans of drudgework and let them focus on the creative and satisfying parts of their jobs. That's how AI-assisted coding is pitched: rather than looking up tricky syntax and other tedious programming tasks, an AI "co-pilot" is billed as freeing up its human "pilot" to focus on the creative puzzle-solving that makes coding so satisfying.

But an hallucinating AI is a terrible co-pilot. It's just good enough to get the job done much of the time, but it also sneakily inserts booby-traps that are statistically guaranteed to look as plausible as the good code (that's what a next-word-guessing program does: guesses the statistically most likely word).

This turns AI-"assisted" coders into reverse centaurs. The AI can churn out code at superhuman speed, and you, the human in the loop, must maintain perfect vigilance and attention as you review that code, spotting the cleverly disguised hooks for malicious code that the AI can't be prevented from inserting into its code. As "Lena" writes, "code review [is] difficult relative to writing new code":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773779967521780169

Why is that? "Passively reading someone else's code just doesn't engage my brain in the same way. It's harder to do properly":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773780355708764665

There's a name for this phenomenon: "automation blindness." Humans are just not equipped for eternal vigilance. We get good at spotting patterns that occur frequently – so good that we miss the anomalies. That's why TSA agents are so good at spotting harmless shampoo bottles on X-rays, even as they miss nearly every gun and bomb that a red team smuggles through their checkpoints:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop

"Lena"'s thread points out that this is as true for AI-assisted driving as it is for AI-assisted coding: "self-driving cars replace the experience of driving with the experience of being a driving instructor":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773841546753831283

In other words, they turn you into a reverse-centaur. Whereas my blind-spot double-checking robot allows me to make maneuvers at human speed and points out the things I've missed, a "supervised" self-driving car makes maneuvers at a computer's frantic pace, and demands that its human supervisor tirelessly and perfectly assesses each of those maneuvers. No wonder Cruise's murderous "self-driving" taxis replaced each low-waged driver with 1.5 high-waged technical robot supervisors:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

AI radiology programs are said to be able to spot cancerous masses that human radiologists miss. A centaur-based AI-assisted radiology program would keep the same number of radiologists in the field, but they would get less done: every time they assessed an X-ray, the AI would give them a second opinion. If the human and the AI disagreed, the human would go back and re-assess the X-ray. We'd get better radiology, at a higher price (the price of the AI software, plus the additional hours the radiologist would work).

But back to making the AI bubble pay off: for AI to pay off, the human in the loop has to reduce the costs of the business buying an AI. No one who invests in an AI company believes that their returns will come from business customers to agree to increase their costs. The AI can't do your job, but the AI salesman can convince your boss to fire you and replace you with an AI anyway – that pitch is the most successful form of AI disinformation in the world.

An AI that "hallucinates" bad advice to fliers can't replace human customer service reps, but airlines are firing reps and replacing them with chatbots:

https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20240222-air-canada-chatbot-misinformation-what-travellers-should-know

An AI that "hallucinates" bad legal advice to New Yorkers can't replace city services, but Mayor Adams still tells New Yorkers to get their legal advice from his chatbots:

https://arstechnica.com/ai/2024/03/nycs-government-chatbot-is-lying-about-city-laws-and-regulations/

The only reason bosses want to buy robots is to fire humans and lower their costs. That's why "AI art" is such a pisser. There are plenty of harmless ways to automate art production with software – everything from a "healing brush" in Photoshop to deepfake tools that let a video-editor alter the eye-lines of all the extras in a scene to shift the focus. A graphic novelist who models a room in The Sims and then moves the camera around to get traceable geometry for different angles is a centaur – they are genuinely offloading some finicky drudgework onto a robot that is perfectly attentive and vigilant.

But the pitch from "AI art" companies is "fire your graphic artists and replace them with botshit." They're pitching a world where the robots get to do all the creative stuff (badly) and humans have to work at robotic pace, with robotic vigilance, in order to catch the mistakes that the robots make at superhuman speed.

Reverse centaurism is brutal. That's not news: Charlie Chaplin documented the problems of reverse centaurs nearly 100 years ago:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Modern_Times_(film)

As ever, the problem with a gadget isn't what it does: it's who it does it for and who it does it to. There are plenty of benefits from being a centaur – lots of ways that automation can help workers. But the only path to AI profitability lies in reverse centaurs, automation that turns the human in the loop into the crumple-zone for a robot:

https://estsjournal.org/index.php/ests/article/view/260

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/01/human-in-the-loop/#monkey-in-the-middle

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

--

Jorge Royan (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Munich_-_Two_boys_playing_in_a_park_-_7328.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

--

Noah Wulf (modified) https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thunderbirds_at_Attention_Next_to_Thunderbird_1_-_Aviation_Nation_2019.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[thejojosanctuary]

Since it's mermay, what about a short fic where Y/N fishes up merman Joseph who then tries his infamous "Secret Joestar Technique" to get away but since he's on land he's just flopping around 😂

-The way this idea had me cackling imagining the scenario it's perfect!

This man's built like a brick house so I had to get creative with figuring out how he'd get reeled up without snapping that line like floss - I do hope I did a good job with your idea.

Thank you so much for the request!- 🧡

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼 ⋆｡˚⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼 ⋆｡˚⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼 ⋆｡˚⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼 ⋆｡˚⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼 ⋆｡˚⋅˚.ଳ

You’re cursed.

You have to be - how else could you explain how you got into this damned mess?

You were relatively new to the whole boating thing, nowhere near committed to calling it a stable trade and more so using it as an excuse to get away from land. Inherited from a relative, the boat wasn’t commercial but it certainly wasn’t big enough for more than a couple of people. It was enough for you, though, while you were still trying to figure things out.

When the weather was decent enough you’d take to the sea. Just you, your ship, and the open ocean for a couple hours until the haul was enough to justify the trip back or the weather got too extreme. You mostly went out for the space though - if you happened to catch a couple of fish to sell in the process, who were you to complain?

Besides, the local stores always appreciated the fresh produce you brought back. The extra chore to your time off was a small price to pay for the discount you got at the stalls that used your fish.

So when you’d woken up that morning, greeted by the first sunny sky you’d seen in the last couple of weeks, blinding you through the crack in your curtains, you were out the door and on the sea without a second thought. It’s not like you’d be gone for long - what was the worst that could happen?

Famous last words - ones that were coming to bite you in the ass now.

Usually you’d just let the ship’s trawler do its work, dragging along the imperceivable depths below while you whiled away the time with other stuff. It was almost entirely automated at this point, so the most you had to do was wait for the thing to catch a handful of fish, flip the controls to reel it back, and check to make sure it hadn’t gotten snagged on debris or sediment.

You’d been in the middle of flipping through a comic a friend had lent you, tucked away in one of the many cozy nooks you’d made for yourself in the cabin. Humming, you thumb through the pages, working your way up to the big cliffhanger that you just know is coming up when an almighty screech rips you away from your reading. It’s a scratchy, grating noise that has you cringing, face scrunching up from the sheer volume thoroughly pissed at the interruption right as you’d been getting invested. 

That is until you realize exactly where the sound is coming from.

“Shit, shit, shit-!”

The rickety cabin door ricochets off of the wall with a solid crack as you boot it open, entire frame shuddering from the force. However it’s the least of your concerns as you scramble towards the back of the little boat, muttering obscenities under your breath with increasing desperation.

The trawler groans beneath the weight of its haul, the line whizzing rapidly in a bid to pull itself free from the ocean’s depths on behest of the automated timer. Another sharp hiss of mechanics, this one more strained than the last, and for a moment you fear that the whole system is going to go up in smoke. The noises rend from the machine’s inner workings is concerning, enough that you have no idea whether to get closer or keep a wide berth in case it snaps - the old thing isn’t worth losing a chunk of your fingers over. But you can’t make out what the problem is if you don’t get any closer, so slowly, cautiously, you begin circling around to the far side of the machine.

“Please, please, please, please don’t be broken.” The repeated pleas are whispered to yourself like a matra, as if silently hoping that if you say it enough then it will magically revert whatever is messing with the hunk of junk back to a functional state. No such luck.

Is the pulley on the fritz? You hadn’t bothered to change it when you’d inherited it, though you’d at least maintained the upkeep as you’d been told. The old fishers at the shore who had taught you how to use the ol’ gal had explained to you that whilst it was an older make, it wouldn’t need refurbishing or upgrading for a good couple months at least.. 

“Gahh, I really don’t wanna fork out on replacing this thing before payday.” you give a defeated groan, giving the hunk of junk a cautionary nudge with the heel of your boot. Maybe a good whack’ll kick it back into gear? Not the first time you’ve done it, and it's never strayed you wrong before, right?

But then the netting veers right, dragged by an unseen force as it careens into the side of the ship and you stumble backwards, recoiling at the deafening screech it rends from the pulley mechanism. For a moment you can only watch the line jerk around, as though fighting against the pulley trying to yank it back up; that it is not the machine messing up. Your stomach drops as realization dawns that the problem isn’t with the net or the pulley.

It’s reeling something in.

You’re not even far enough out to sea to have caught anything substantial - a few minutes from shore at most, just barely enough to not risk marooning the vessel. And yet as you watch the machinery struggling to pull something up the tension builds. The corded netting pulls tighter and tighter and tighter-

Then, with a final heave the netting breaks through the water’s surface. 

The resounding wet thud rocks the entirety of the boat, forming puddles of water on the wooden surface as the writhing mass is deposited in front of you. As you feared, upon completing its final job the pulley gives up the ghost. With a hoarse sputter, puffing out a few wisps of smoke for good measure the death rattle of metals gradually fades to a chilling silence, the noise still ringing in your ears as you take in the metallic husk with a withering sigh. 

You’d bemoan the loss later, however the wriggling, lively contents of its last haul currently demand your attention.

A huge mass squirms and thrashes about within the confines of the fishing net, though at first you can’t quite make out what it is. Amongst the large shape are a handful of fish  - or more accurately what’s left of them as they’ve obviously been half eaten, reduced to chunks somewhere between the ocean and your boat. For fucks sake; something’s been at your line again - probably those damned sea lions you’ve heard are making a home further up coast. But the offending culprit that’s trapped is far from a sea lion; though when you finally make out what exactly you’re looking at, maybe a sea lion would have been better.

There’s an honest to god man tangled up in your net, hulking bare chested frame struggling fiercley against the network of woven rope clinging to his form with little success. Any fear that you’ve hauled up a corpse flies out the window along with the barrage of curses the man spews out the second he hits solid land, words barely legible but shouted with enough vigor that you get the crystal clear picture that he’s pissed.

You’re beginning to think that you’ve accidentally scooped up a diver, but it’s while you’re in the middle of mentally debating the legalities of getting sued for picking a person up in your net (because seriously, how are you going to explain your way out of this one???) that the big mound of green he’s curled up with shifts. You swear to god, if that’s another goddamn person-! 

Oh.

That’s not a diver.

Iridescent scales glint in the sunlight like emeralds, catching in the sun as a green tail unfurling within the ratty old net. Those pretty glistening scales form intricate patterns all the way up the stranger's body, becoming sparser up along the hips until they meet skin and taper off to the very human torso of a decidedly not human man. 

A merfolk. There’s a merfolk in your trawler. Despite knowing what you’re looking at, your brain just can’t quite process what your eyes are seeing. It’s like something right out of a fairytale, coming across a mer out on the ocean. Except that mer is now swearing like a sailor and getting himself more and more wound up in what remains of your trawling net. He’s done a number on it, sure, but the ratty thing is clinging to the merman like it’s trying to get revenge for the pulley.

The hell are the chances that you’d yank up a mer of all things?! Godammit, you just wanted some fish, not this! 

Someone up there must be getting a real kick out of your suffering right now, because as if finally sensing your presence the mer goes rigid, tensing up with fingers still wound tight mid-yank into the criss-cross of ropes that won’t budge. His head snaps up, and you’re momentarily struck by the startling blue of the eyes that meet yours, pupils blown wide as they dart across your features.

Oh, damn. He’s actually kind of handsome - the defined cut of his jaw framed by a mop of dark hair, clinging to saltwater slick skin as droplets of water cling to his lashes.

Silence; for a moment not even the gulls overhead make a peep.

“OH NO!!”

Okay he is WAY too loud. The merman spins away from you (as well as he can while actively trapped), hunching over with a groan. With his back to you, you catch a flash of an odd star-shaped mark on his shoulder - a birthmark? - before he buries a hand in his hair, tail thrashing.

“Granny warned me about getting too close to the human ships. But how was I supposed to know they’d pull it up!? Aaaaah, she’s gonna kill me when she finds out!”

Aaand he’s speaking to himself. Great, just what you need; a mythical creature monologuing to himself like it’s normal. At least you can understand him, you guess. He mutters something under his breath and suddenly jolts up, immediately hissing when his back catches on the coarse entanglements.

“There’s no other option.” he declares with grave conviction. “It’s time for my secret technique.”

Instinctively, you take a cautionary step backwards apprehensive on what this ‘secret technique’ is. He looks so sure about it that you’re beginning to dread what he’s got up his non-existant sleeves. Are mers dangerous on land? Of course there’s old wives tales of them drowning sailors, as there are across any corner of the world that touches the ocean, but surely you’re safe on your ship...you hope. And yet the foreboding ‘what-if’ is enough to warrant another step away for good measure. 

The mer’s hands slap onto the deck, raising himself to as full a height as his predicament will allow. A deep breath - which only cements the lingering fear now that you know he seems just fine out of the sea- as his mouth opens with a bellow of-

“Run away!”

…You’re kidding.

If he was in the water, maybe this amazing technique would’ve worked wonders. As it stands though you can merely watch, utterly baffled, as the mer makes a poor attempt to flee back to the ocean he’d emerged from. Dropped smack-dab in the middle of your boat by the trawler however, there really wasn’t anywhere for him to go, He’s got plenty of muscle (which isn’t discerned bc you were staring at them too hard, definitely not) but progress is as slow going as you imagine it would be for a several foot tall sea creature weighed down by both a tail and a couple pounds of rope.

 As this strange man continues to flop about on your deck, the fear and panic which had once taken hold now dissolves into confusion. Your hands, initially braced to protect yourself drop to your sides and there’s no hiding the pinch in your brow as you tilt your head with silent judgment.

Wow, talk about anticlimactic.

Clearly, at some point this guy must realize that thrashing around on dry land isn’t getting him anywhere, because after what feels like far too long (but is likely just a minute or two) the merman abruptly stills, makes a drawn out, pained noise, and promptly drops down in a tangled, outstretched mess of limbs and tail to the deck.

Is he…dead? What if you were wrong, and merfolk could die if they’re pulled out of the water? This is getting weirder and weirder; however as the seconds pass and you find yourself straining more and more to gauge if he’s still breathing, you’re growing increasingly concerned with the notion that it’s not just another gimmick.

Well you aren’t going to be responsible for this guy dying on your watch - the universe would probably curse you twice over for letting some mythical half-naked fish man croak on your ship. Spurred on by that thought you spin around, leaving the too still figure in your peripherals and you stride over to your trunk. It’s haphazard, and as you wrench it open it’s still full of junk you’ve been putting off sorting, making your job even harder as you root through it.

“Come on, come on. Don’t tell me I left the goddamn thing back home again- AHA!”

A triumphant shout, followed by the hefty slam of your toolbox. It’s an amalgamation of tools and tiny knicknacks stuffed away and half-remembered, and you shove your hand into the uncoordinated mess in a bid to feel around for the tool you know you have in there somewhere.

Immersed in fishing through your kit, you’re only half paying attention when a low, drawn out squeak makes you freeze mid-pillage. Whipping your head round, your gaze falls back to the ‘dead’ merman splayed on on your deck - he’s in the exact same position, but there’s a drag in the drying splotches of water on deck, and you could almost swear that he’s a little further away from you than he was before.

You hesitate before turning your back again, slower this time as you return to searching. This time, you’re actively listening out for any further movement; so when it happens again you’re quicker on the uptake. Still not fast enough to catch him in the act, but the marks are longer and he’s definitely further from where he had been.

Suspicions confirmed; he’s playing dead. And getting impatient too, as this time it’s barely a second after you’ve turned away that you hear that same squeaky noise. A deep exhale, calmness only betrayed by the slam of your hands rattling the toolbox as you spin back to face the mer.

“Listen, I know you’re moving!”

Silence. He’s really trying to milk the whole playing dead thing.

“I can SEE the drag marks on the deck you know!”

The ruse is up - and seems to ‘miraculously’ spring the guy back to life. With an indignant huff, the mer rolls onto his back and pushes himself up onto his shoulders to glare at you as though you’re the problem. A glare that’s looking mighty pathetic from behind the cross-knitted ropes he’s still covered in.

“You could have at least pretended to be fooled!” his expression’s wound in a scowl, one that you mirror as you throw your hands up in the air.

“Pretended?!You fu-I thought you were dead!” 

“You were supposed to! Aren’t you humans dense or what?”

“Of all of the-ugh! That’s it!” You paw at the toolkit behind you, blindly grabbing till you feel a familiar weight in your hand and take long strides towards the mer.

Immediately he bristles, that cocksure attitude replaced by a reflection of the panic that you’d no doubt expressed just minutes before. He looks ready to bolt, if that was even an option, eyes flickering between your approaching form and the small safety cutter now brandished in your hand.

“O-Oi, hang on, don’t do anything stupid-” 

“Oh hush.” you snort, amused by the notion that for a second he actually thought you posed any danger. “Relax; I’m going to cut away the net, and all that thrashing is a good way to lose a fin.” 

The mer startles as you drop to your knees before him. His tail still thrashes, but it’s significantly slower than it once was - either he’s getting tired or you’re beginning to get through to him, but you don’t want to risk getting closer in case that tail hits you. Still, he makes his protest known, and this close it’s enough to make your ears ring.

“How about letting me go! Throw me overboard and we’ll pretend this never happened!” it’s more of a demand than a request, and a stupid one at that considering his current predicament.

“And what are you gonna do about the rope? Wait for it to just miraculously disappear; or let it drag you down to the bottom?”

That shuts him up. Smug satisfaction wells in your chest watching the mers mouth fly open with another witty remark, only to snap shut because you both know that you’re right. It takes effort to hide the grin tugging at the corner of your mouth as you shuffle closer, reaching out for

“Exactly. Now can it and hold still.”

His body’s wound up, visibly tense as your hand slips through the gaps in the net to pull a portion of it away from his skin. The rope itches in your grasp, coarse and soggy from its stint underwater much like present fishy company. No wonder he was trying so hard to get out - this thing is uncomfortable so torn and tattered. 

Once it becomes apparent that you aren’t actively causing him harm, you watch the mer’s form slowly ease, the twisting of his tail settling enough that it’s finally safe to dare getting closer for a better look. Surveying the state of it, you click your tongue at the state of your fishing net. He’s done enough damage tangling himself up that the netting has folded over itself in places and knotted at awkward angles. Perhaps you could have tried to save it, but it doesn’t take a genius to piece together that it’s clearly a lost cause.

You work in silence, for the most part. For how much of a chatterbox he was before he’s eerily silent now, attentively watching over you as you work at the netting around his tail. It’s tedious, long winded and your fingers are already feeling sore by the time you’re even halfway up the bright green appendage with so much more to go, and yet you don’t stop for a second.

A section pulls too sharp when you tug, and the mer hisses at the unpleasant friction when the rope catches. It’s the only thing to break the silence and you immediately still, a quick ‘sorry’ murmured as you ease up, taking more care not to be too rough.

A mutter catches your attention. For a second you fool yourself into thinking he’s talking to himself again when you catch him blatantly staring at your face. You glance up, pausing momentarily in your cutting.

“Huh?”

“What’s your name?” a blunt question posed by the mer you’re working to free. “You’re a human; you have one of those too, right?”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not about the name thing. But with no better way to make time go faster, you decide to indulge him.

He repeats your name under his breath a few times, as though practicing how it sounds. Apparently he must like it, as you hear him do it twice more in the few seconds it takes for you to finally cave and chime in.

“I’m guessing you have a name too.”

“Of course! It’s Joseph.”

“Joseph, huh?” That’s…not the name you were expecting from a mythical sea beast, honestly. But then again, what did you expect? Your expression must paint a picture though, as Joseph’s expression sours in the wake of your response.

“What?” 

“Nothing. Just-” you choose your next words very carefully, pausing for a second too long before settling on, “It suits you.”

Joseph halts mid rebuttal, for a moment looking truly stunned till what you say sinks in. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone preen before, but the brunet mer looks positively chuffed, grinning like a fool at the compliment. He puffs up his chest, making a move to straighten up as if getting ready to boast about it. That idea is nipped in the bud with a firm reminder to stop squirming before he loses scales as you keep cutting away at his bindings. 

Your warnings don’t seem to curb his restlessness however, a slow, overly dramatic sigh making you regret saying anything in the first place as he huffs.

“Are you done yet?”

“Not yet. Getting there though.”

A pause.

“...How about now?”

“Still no, Joseph.”

“...Now?”

“No”

“...Now?”

“Yes.”

“Really?!”

“No.”

“Aaaah! This is taking forever!”

You can’t help it - Joseph falls for it hook, line and sinker, oblivious to your snickering in favor of flopping back onto the deck to complain more about his fate. While messing with him a little bit longer is a tempting idea, you decide for your own wellbeing to go easy on him.

“I’m kidding. Look-” A few more slices at the remains of the netting fall away between your fingers, joining the scattered pieces that once made up the merman’s confines. “Tada; you’re a free man.”

Without thinking you brush some stragglers off of his tail, the bits falling off with ease in the wake of your hand. Up close the green of his scales is somehow more stark, and though you expected them to be rough to the touch they’re instead pleasantly smooth against your open palm. Streaks of sunlight still catch on the iridescent tail, revealing faint yellow tones that pattern along the underside exposed to the sun. There’s no denying that they’re beautiful, if not unfortunately attached to such a cocky mer.

“Kinda pretty.” you muse aloud, quiet but not quiet enough.

Joseph makes a curious noise - somewhere between a whistle and a click. You’ve got no idea what it means but his smile spells bad news. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” is shot back too quickly. “I didn’t say anything.”

“No, no you definitely said something.” He’s leaning closer, any hint of the fear or distrust a far cry from the smug grin he’s sporting. “What’s pretty-?” 

You reel back in response, making a grab for the tattered net at your feet. “I’ll throw this back on you-”

Joseph makes distance between you two immediately, hands thrown up in defense. “Okay, okay! Yeesh, are all humans this testy?” 

“That’s a funny way to say thanks for cutting me free, but you’re welcome.”

Satisfied that he’s not going to make another move, you push yourself upright. Your knees groan in protest, stiff from how long they’ve spent shoved against the deck for far too long. Joseph looks himself over, patting himself down as if to ensure that he’s not short of any of his extremities and letting out a sigh of relief to find out that, true to your word, you’ve left him in one piece.

Right on time too, it seems. He’s beginning to dry out in the sun now, no longer the wet mop of a mer you’d initially dragged up. Joseph’s hair is starting to curl a little at the ends, and the sheen on his skin has dried in favor of a pinkish hue in light of the sun. 

“Probably a good idea to get you back in the water.” you suggest, taking a step back and nodding your head towards the stern of the ship behind him. “You’re free to go; I gotta head back. Need to let the stalls know I’m empty handed this time.”

Joseph looks genuinely confused at that last remark, cocking his head. “Why’d you need to do that?”

“Well taking into consideration that my net is a loss, and the fish I did catch have been eaten.” The pointed glare in his direction is met with a sheepish hunch and glance away (because, honestly, how was he doing to explain the fish bits you’d hauled him up with?). Sighing, you shake your head, turning your gaze back out to sea in the direction of shore.

“I’m out of options. They won’t be mad, but I hate letting ‘em down when they’re expecting-”

“I can help.”

That…wasn’t what you expected. In fact, the offer genuinely takes you off guard.

“Joseph, I can’t take back the half-eaten ones.”

Joseph looks genuinely offended that you think that’s what he’s propositioning. “Not those, duh.” he snaps, broad hands gesturing to himself as though the answer is staring you in the face. “Merman, remember?”

In response you arch a brow, hands falling to your hips as you stare back at him. “You? Really? You’re going to catch me fish?”

“What do you mean, fish love me!” somehow you don’t entirely believe that, but Joseph isn’t deterred in the slightest.

“Give me some time - I’ll get you enough fish it’ll knock you off of those weird legs of yours!”

For the first time you look at him, really look at him. At that haughty overconfident smile and those bright blue eyes glinting as though he knows something you don’t. And you’re sure he does - you’ve just met the mer, afterall. But something pulls at you, a feeling that whispers that he means it - that you can trust him.

“Okay, fine.”

That smile breaks into a full on grin, the light in his eyes crinkling at the corners when you squat back down and offer a hand. “I can stay a couple more hours, but you’ve got yourself a deal, Joseph.”

“Great!” His hand clamps around yours, careful not to catch you on the sharp cut of his nails as he uses the momentum to prop himself up. 

“Now help me get off of this thing. I don’t have all day!.”

“...I’m throwing you in.”

[gosmigenergy]

VIDEO? WHAT VIDEO?

( Triple Frontier Boys x F!Reader )

Summary: It isn’t long before Francisco, Santiago and Will find out about Benny’s video with you as guest star. For context, here's the relating fic!

Warnings: Mentions of food, language, descriptions of sexual acts but none take place, boys will be boys, pet names, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2k

Notes: Benny anon, I finally wrote the thing! I wondered why I was struggling but this is the first time I’ve written something in months and I haven’t done a fic where the reader isn't present for the most part but I hope you all enjoy ✨🐇

Francisco was the first to find out about the video.

He didn’t even know why he pressed on the Instagram app, it’s not like he posts anything, he mostly lurks and waits for you to post something. It had been so long since he’d been on there, he forgot he was following Benny.

Scrolling down, he could understand why Will and Santiago decided to unfollow him, there was far too many high quality photos of his overly glossy, sweaty abs. Frankie grumbled as his brows furrowed, searching endlessly for anything other than his brother-in-arms when the automated movement stopped.

He read the words, then he read them again and though Benny’s caption didn’t state the obvious, he knew exactly what he was saying.

‘You seen this?’

Santiago saw Frankie’s message pop up then another came with a link.

He didn’t exactly know why he’d chose to send him to Benny’s post, he’d seen that man’s physique about a thousand times and it’s not like he needed reminding of what it felt like to have him underneath him.

After his fleeting thought, Santiago actually read what it said and a single eyebrow arched.

“And they didn’t invite me.”

Will was the last to find out. Luckily for him, he was on his break when the message from Santiago came through.

‘We’re going to need to have a group meeting.’

‘What’s Benny done now?’

He felt bad that he always guessed it was his brother but most of the time, his assumptions were correct, including now.

Benny was none the wiser.

He arrived to Frankie’s as he would any other boys night, with a six pack and a new found hope that eventually the conversation would lead to you. He wasn’t going to mention what the both of you did the other week, they knew about his Only Fans, all of them swearing blind that they were never going to pay for his content.

The others acted as if they knew nothing, emotions deep down stewing. The discussions stayed casual whilst they ate, a few drinks in their systems soothing the possible anger they felt.

Not that Santiago was angry, he guessed that at some point you’d be coaxed into Benny’s online antics, he just didn’t think it’d be so soon. He had his own plans to introduce you to something you may have never done but it was too early, even if you were aware he was in a different kind of scene.

“So,” they all heard how Benny’s voice changed, “we gonna talk about our girl?”

Frankie’s eyes darted between Santiago and Will, the tips of his ears turning pink, he’d never speak first.

Will sniggered, “Brother, we’re not in high school.”

“Aaaw, come on man, I thought we’d all been sharing stories!”

He caught the corner of Santiago’s lips twitch.

“See, Pope gets it,” Benny thrusts a hand in his direction.

Will shrugged, folding his arms before giving his brother his full attention.

“What do you want to know?”

“What did you do on your first night?”

There was a round of chuckles before Santiago’s eyes darkened.

“Well, Fish had her first.”

Frankie scowled at their leader, fucking asshole.

All eyes fell on him and he squirmed in his seat, clearing his throat as he watched Benny’s smile grow wider.

“I made her dinner…”

“Pfft,” Benny wished for the dirt, not that.

“Then I made her come with my fingers.”

Santiago tipped his head, “How many?”

Frankie bit the inside of his lip before he lifted a hand, displaying the three fingers he used.

“Well, shit,” Benny said with a giggle, he was actually impressed.

“What about you?”

Frankie jutted his chin as he passed the baton.

“We fucked.”

“That’s it?” Will sounded offended.

“And I’m sure you pulled out all the stops.”

“Not the first night but the week after, I gave her a massage,” Will leaned back, “made her squirt for the first time.”

He gifted his brother a smug smile, nothing like a little sibling rivalry.

“Who said I haven’t?”

“Did you use the technique I told you?”

Santiago had messaged Benny to brag about what he’d done, of course, he received a flood of responses to know how he did it. At first, Santiago thought it may have just been the aphrodisiac powder coursing through your veins but if Benny proves it otherwise, you’re in danger.

“Show us how you did it,” Santiago leaned back.

Benny’s expression scrunched and he brought his hand up, using his thumb and two fingers to replicate the motion he did.

Frankie rolled his eyes, “Jesus Christ.”

“The video, brother.”

“Video? What video?”

He tried to fain his innocence except none of them were buying it, each one of their faces stone cold. Benny knew he could take his brother in a fight, Pope would probably play dirty but he had one weakness, it was Fish he’d be worried about.

He had that look about him, one that could kill.

His usual soft brown eyes had grown hard, his jaw locked, fingers digging into the muscle of his arms.

“Show us the video,” his voice was low.

Benny swallowed, angling his body so he could slip his phone from his pocket. He logged onto his account, turned up the volume and placed the device in the centre of the table, it was a free for all.

Santiago moved but Frankie was quicker.

He jumped from his seat like a predator who saw his chance to catch his prey, claws out, his nails scratching at the table. Santiago scooted round behind him, arms locked to his chest, his brows furrowing as he concentrated on what was about to unfold.

Will remained seated.

He and Benny may be sharing the same girl yet he wasn’t sure he wanted to watch his brother fuck someone. They were aware that in a relationship like this, the day would come where they would both be involved with a group session, both had vowed not to watch each other or if they had to look, their attention would be solely on you.

“You can’t see my face,” Benny reassured him.

Will gave him a knowing nod but he still wasn’t going to look.

“I think I’m good.”

They both shared a smile before Will settled back in his seat, closing his eyes, his imagination would do him just fine.

Frankie and Santiago were seemingly huddling closer, their slopped noses almost pressed against the screen. It was surprising how good the picture was, crisp with sharp edges, your folds glistening and swelling as Benny’s fingers slipped effortlessly in and out. If they blocked out Benny’s grunts, it was like you were in the room, filling their ears with the sweetest sounds and shallow breaths.

Santiago glanced up, “Bunny?”

“She wanted to remain anonymous, my user name is Gym Bunny.”

Santiago stored the nickname in the back of his mind.

They continued watching, seeing the telltale signs that you were close to the edge, how you fought with yourself to keep your body locked in that position for the audience. Then just how Benny demonstrated, his thumb pressed to your clit and, they assumed, his fingers curled before you screamed, juices flowing.

Frankie released a ragged breath, “It’s so much better from this angle.”

Santiago delivered a hefty pat on his back as the video continued.

‘You want to cum all over my cock next, Bunny?’

‘Yes, please.’

Drawn in by your sugary response, the pair of the blink as they’re pulled back into the video. Will’s one brow twitches, his lips curling further as he imagined how you looked with the sweetest smile plastered on your face, fluttering your lashes to get what you want.

Benny laughed to himself.

It was very rare for the four of them to be as quiet as they were, only the sound of his blown out phone speaker filling the space. If you get over the fact it’s playing amateur porn, he would say it was almost peaceful.

Frankie almost launched Benny’s phone across the room when another rang around the table.

“Remember your training,” Will said as he leaned to the left to get out his phone.

He immediately answered when he saw it was your name flashing on the screen, slowing rising from his chair.

“Hey sweetheart…”

Benny scrambles to get his phone from Frankie though Santiago snatches it, ducking and dodging. From your end, you couldn’t fully tell what was going on in the background where Will was, there was a mixture of scrambling, shoes squeaking on tiled floors and… grunting?

“Hey, um, are you ok to talk?”

“All good, Pope and Benny are just fighting.”

You don’t miss a beat, immediately moving on from that piece of shared information.

“Oh, Santiago’s with you?”

Will hummed.

“I just tried calling him but didn’t get an answer.”

You don’t know why you called him first, he was always the most aloof.

“Yeah, he’s been a little…” 

Will paused as he watched Santiago still managing to watch the video even as Benny jumped his back. 

“Preoccupied.”

You giggle, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

He saw it best to leave the room, ducking into the hallway with Frankie on his tail. Frankie heard Will say your pet name, distanced himself from the other two because he was more concerned about why you were calling.

“What can I help you with?”

Will pressed his volume a little higher so Frankie could lean in and hear.

You seemed nervous, hesitant to ask because you still considered it early days and Santiago was actually surprisingly adamant you had a ‘week off’.

“Um, I know it’s my week off but I’m… I’m kinda lonely so I was wondering if it would be ok for me to hang out with you? Or the guys, if they’re all there? I’m assuming you’re all there because why else would…”

You rambled on whilst Will and Frankie looked at each other, though they didn’t say a word, they used small gestures to communicate and they both agreed.

“We’re at Fish’s,” Will interrupts.

“He’s ok with it?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Great, I’ll see you in a bit!”

“See you soon.”

The pair of you hung up together.

“We’ve gotta tell, Pope,” Frankie sighed.

Will nodded, “Leave it to me.”

By the time you arrive, the atmosphere has calmed. Frankie comes to open the door when you knock and you gift him a peck on the cheek in return.

“No kissing!” Santiago shouts from the kitchen.

In an act of defiance, you scurry over to the table and place yourself in between the Miller brothers, kissing Will and then Benny swiftly. You smile sweetly at Santiago, who, even with folded arms has a smirk on his face.

Though your heart can’t leave him out so you swoop round, planting a sloppier kiss on his cheek and he huffs.

“Come on,” you drape your arms over his shoulders, “you love it really.”

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, “Behave yourself.”

You pout jokingly.

“Sooo, what have you been up to?”

“Nothing,” they all say in unison.

Your eyes narrow as they flit between all three of the faces around the table yet Frankie’s hand soft on your back distracts you.

“Want something to eat, querida?”

You straighten up, “I had something earlier.”

“I’ll get you some snacks.”

Slowly, you were starting to learn what the boys were like.

You were sure Francisco’s love language was related to the act of making you food, Will who was pulling you out a chair was the most gentlemanly of the lot. Benny was a puppy, enthusiastic and excitable to ever be in your presence whilst you were certain that underneath that hardened exterior, Santiago was soft in the middle.

And you guessed that tonight was probably one of their nights where they got together and talked shit but now their conversation was more than likely about you. There was a possibility they’d discussed the video, maybe they even watched it but one thing you were certain of is that if they had, they were going to make sure you were none the wiser.

For just a little longer.

[meggahamicide]

I wanna ask about ‘The Incident’ so bad 0_0 but I know it’s spoiler territory… So instead, can I ask about everyone as kids?

This may not be in line with the asks you’re asking for,,,, but did Vermin know he had brothers? and vice versa, did Splinter share that there was a fourth turtle / even know if that fourth turtle was alive? And then any other fun turtle tot info you wanna share. I don’t know if I have any clarifying questions about the AU as a whole, but I still wanna ask things wwww I hope you don’t mind!! 🙏🏻🤍

I'll just avoid anything that enters the spoiler zone, or keep it very vague, but as for if Vermin knew he had brothers, I'd say... no? He knew that Draxum tried to mutate three other turtles, but other than that, he figures that the others died either during or soon after their mutation and didn't have much of an emotion attachment to them. And even then, he only knows that they existed because Draxum had documented the experiment in a book that had all of his research notes in it.

Later on, in the episode where everyone canonically gets their mystic weapons, instead of taking the crystal, Donnie takes the book. As far as Splinter knew, Vermin had died in the lab's destruction, so when Donnie tries to confront him about their missing brother, Splinter is equally surprised. I think I've mentioned previously that Donnie (and somewhat Mikey) is aware that something is missing, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was until he finds the book and it triggers his mission to hunt Vermin down and get him to join their family.

Now, if you were lookin' for cute kid stuff, I won't give it to you here. But as a treat, I'll give you a little Post-Incident snippet. (warning for blood and injury!)

Before the incident, the family wouldn't fear the surface as much and would often find shelter in old warehouses and condemned buildings. They enjoyed people watching from the shadows and even had tentative safehouses throughout the city where they would retreat if too many humans were around their temporary dwellings. The sewers weren't their home until after.

The event takes place when they're all young still (Mikey is 7, Donnie is 8, and Raph is 9) and it ends in what is, in the majority, permanent injures for Raph, Mikey, and Splinter.

Mikey ends up getting injured the most, grabbed by both his left leg and right arm, breaking the bones around the joints in his elbow and knee and leaving him required to wear support braces and use mobility aids on occasion. Chronic pain shows up as he heals, (I might make a separate post about that since it's such a big thing and I can't really dump all the aspects that go into something like that here) and a head injury gives him amnesia surrounding the incident, but he gets nightmares that he can't remember when he gets stressed or overly exhausted.

Raph ends up with a wound that cut across his eye, blinding him on his right, and has problems with letting his brothers out of his sight for too long. Although I haven't redesigned him yet, one of Splinter's ears gets ripped off along with half of his tail. Because Donnie was the most defended, he didn't get injured past a few scrapes and bruises, but he does have a hatred for having to be protected now. Cue, his obsession with giving them the most overpowered and completely automated defense system when they finally hunker down somewhere defendable: Shelldon.

[the-perfect-violation]

Adagio

Ash x Reader

///

Summary: Ash dreams of you and you wrestle with priorities.

TW: Smut, Angst

Rating: 18+ Mature

Word Count: 3,100

///

A/N: This is my first fic and it was written sans beta, so please let me know if you see anything worth fixing.

Ash has always been a favorite of mine. My despair at finding so few pieces on him finally drove me to write my own. That's my way of saying that this is unapologetically self-serving haha.

Enjoy nevertheless!

///

Link to AO3 if you'd prefer read there.

Gif is my own.

Someone is gathering every crumb you drop.  These mindless decisions and Moments you long forgot. Keep them all. Let our formulas find your soul. We’ll divine an artesian source in your mind, Marshal feed and force. Our machines will Design you a perfect love Or better still A perfect lust.  O how glorious, glorious: A brand new need is born. Now we possess you. You’ll learn that. Now we possess you. You’ll learn that in time. Now we will build you an endlessly upward world.  Embrace you for all you’re worth. Is that wrong? Isn’t this what you want? - The Hymn of Acxiom

///

The storm had begun to pick up again as your automated car wound its way through the city streets towards your office. The sun barely rose at all this time of year, and the sharpness of the ensuing cold was made all the worse by the dark and damp that hung eternally over the city. It was supposed to snow again today. Who would have thought you’d end up on Thedus of all places? At least the job paid well. And you only had a few weeks remaining before you went back to Earth.

Weyland-Yutani practically owned the planet and almost every of the meager two million residents were employed by them. You included. A trained psychiatrist, you had been asked to spend six months on the mining planet to help prepare a handful of synthetics for different jobs they would be completing for the Corporation. What those jobs were exactly was high above your paygrade. You were sure the synthetics you worked with had no idea yet, either.

According to Weyland-Yutani, instilling their machines with a well-balanced emotional spectrum was essential to their success. That’s where you came in. You worked with your synthetics regularly, showing and talking to them about what they were feeling and how to respond accordingly. Most of your patients had been blinding successes and had been shipped off on their missions already.

Only one remained - a Hyperdyne Systems 120-A/2 named Ash. Today was your last day together. Then, he would be deployed and you would finish writing up your reports alone over the remaining weeks. Saying goodbye to the others had been relatively easy. Your relationship had developed only so far as to be considered professional acquaintances. 

But Ash - something about the way he watched you, hung on your every word, smiled slightly when he first saw you each day… You thought he might have developed some sort of crush. That was a stark contrast to how he had been when first activated. Programmed to be aloof, cold, a strict rule-follower, he had been all of those over the first few months of your relationship.

You found you actively looked forward to your time with him now. He was collected, intelligent, and had a dry sense of humor that never failed to make you laugh. While the others had been a professional responsibility, Ash had become closer to what you would call a friend, although that was as far as your moral compass would ever let things go.

The two of you could talk for hours about history, philosophy, or the latest scientific journals. He would ask about your life, too, just as much as you would enquire about his. Maybe living on a sparsely-habited planet in the outer rim had had more of an effect on you than you had thought, but it felt nice to have someone like him to work with and talk to. That made the knowledge that you likely wouldn’t see him again after today all the more painful.

The car pulled up out front of the monolithic Weyland headquarters, interrupting your musing. You pulled your coat tight around you, adjusted your scarf, and grabbed your briefcase. Your heels echoed steadily as you made your way through the tall, angular hallways towards your office. It appeared that most of the staff had decided to work from home for the day - which was no surprise for a stormy Friday - but it made the already brutalist building seem almost hyperborean.

The room they had given you was nothing special - although it did have a wide bank of windows looking over the city for which you were grateful. You had a few built-in shelves filled with archaic books you had collected over the years and had negotiated to have come with you to Thedus. Behind your desk, the wall held only a print of Böcklin’s Die Toteninsel that you had been gifted before you departed Earth. You liked to keep everything dim, and chose to only light the room with a few lamps placed around the room.

You set your briefcase down and lit a small stick of incense to chase away the smell of the mining plants that had eeked its way in with you. After taking off your coat, you checked your watch. Ash should be here at 15:00, giving you time to get a report or two off your desk. You settled down and dove into the work laid out before you.

///

Two sharp knocks pulled you out of your work-induced trance.

“Come in!” You called out, standing and slipping your glasses into your blazer pocket as your patient entered. Like always, he was wearing his officer uniform and smelled faintly of cologne.

“Good afternoon, Ash,” you smiled at him and motioned toward one of the two facing chairs by the window.

“Hello,” he responded with a slight smile.

He moved to take his regular seat and you sat down in the chair opposite.

“How are you?” You asked.

“I’m well,” he responded quickly, glancing out the window and rubbing his hands on the arms of his chair in what seemed to be nervousness. “You?”

“Fantastic - I like it when the building is empty like this,” you said. “And I can never hate a good snowstorm. How was your evening yesterday?”

“It was good.”

"You ship out tomorrow, right?"

"At 08:00."

"Do you have any idea what you'll be doing yet?"

"None. I know my ship is called the USCSS Nostromo."

You stared at him, hoping he would continue.

“Ash, is everything alright? You seem distant. I know this is our last session together, and I was hoping we could end on a positive note.”

“I know - I... I’m sorry. I just didn’t sleep well is all.”

You knew he was deflecting. Synthetics didn’t need sleep like humans did. Most did try to sleep each night in order to maintain a more human schedule, but if he weren’t able to get rest it shouldn’t have any effect on how they acted the next day.

“It’s alright - I'm sure you're under a lot of pressure right now. It happens to all of us," you said, deciding to avoid the confrontation. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“A little, yes.”

“Did you dream?” You had been going over dreams with him lately, walking through what moods they might represent and how to handle them.

You caught a flicker of something - uncertainty? - in his eyes before he answered. “Yes.”

“About what?” He only stared at the wall behind your shoulder.

“Or whom?” You added and watched as that flicker of uncertainty passed over his face again. Now you were getting somewhere. He was trying to conceal something from you, you knew. That hadn’t been a problem before. The pause lengthened and you prodded him again.

“Ash, I -” 

“I dreamt about you.” He said a little too quickly, as if it were an admission he was glad to have off his chest. His green eyes finally met your grey ones.

You realized he had been embarrassed before, something you had misinterpreted as nervousness. Good, you thought approvingly. You had heard that the idea of embarrassment had been a bastard to program so it was a relief to see that you had finally brought it out. But you showed none of this satisfaction, and instead stared at him across the room, crossing your legs. He went back to avoiding eye contact, preferring to study the wall just over your shoulder.

“What did you dream about me?”

You watched as a blush crept up his neck and into his face and he held his tongue. His eyes moved to your face and he looked at you as though begging for mercy. Realization hit you like a crashing wave.

Oh .

It was your turn to freeze. Guilt rose up in place of surprise and you turned your head to look out the window instead of at him. You knew it was your job to give him some sort of motivation, a sense of home. You knew that drive alone could make a person - synthetic or not -  do almost anything. But the last thing you wanted to do was to play with anyone’s romantic feelings. You hadn’t realized that a synthetic’s feelings could even develop that far.

You reminded yourself that playing with synthetic’s feelings was the majority of your job description and you were being paid very well to do it. That only made the guilt worse.

I mean, who’s to say these are romantic feelings at all? You argued with yourself in desperation. This could be a physical impulse alone. He was programmed to have those needs. He was a science officer after all. He knew sex was a necessity in any living being’s life. That his creators had given those needs to some synthetics to help them fit in well with the humans around them. There was no reason he would be embarrassed about the act alone. There was clearly more going on here, you realized and your heart sank.

You heard your pulse in your ears as you turned back to him. He had been watching you closely.

“What do you dream about me, Ash?”

There was a long pause before he began. “I’m - we’re here. It’s late. We’re doing an extra session. To help prepare, you know, before I leave. When we finish, you walk me back to my room.”

Most Weyland-Yutani androids on Thedus were housed here, in this concrete pillar the company used as a planetary headquarters. Each was given a small room, more akin to a storage closet, that had a bed and a kitchenette. Although synthetics didn’t have a need to eat or sleep, the Corporation thought it would be good for them to get used to living in human environments. As if what little they were given could be called that. The thought made you feel a twinge of sadness. 

“I kiss you.” You are brought back to the present with a jolt as he continues. “I think it surprises you because you don’t respond right away. But then your hand comes up to the back of my head and I push you against the wall.

I feel like I can’t breathe when you open your mouth and moan into mine. I can’t keep myself off of you. My hands are trying to touch all of you at once. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you, I need you so badly.

I pick you up and you wrap your legs around me as I carry you to the bed. As I lay you down, I position myself on top of you and begin to kiss your neck, just below the ear. You moan my name and I know I’ll do anything you ask me to. You begin to run your hands over my chest and I take my shirt off. I pull myself off of you slightly as you help me remove your suit. It looked very much like the one you’re wearing today,” his eyes scanned your figure briefly before he spoke again.

“I know I’ve never seen anything so beautiful as you lying underneath me, blushing and staring up at me,” he stops there and swallows thickly. “Even now I see it and I know.”

Thick snowflakes begin to fall outside. You sat, unmoving, as he continued. 

“I pull your undergarments off slowly before kissing each porcelain breast individually and revel in the feeling of your nipples growing erect against my tongue. One of my hands trails down to the heat between your legs. My fingers gently trace the sensitive skin there, causing you to gasp. My touch is hesitant and you moan, your body urging me to continue. I take the cue, my fingers exploring further as my lips return to yours. You moan for me again.” 

You were blushing hard and it felt almost impossible to breathe. Ash watched you intently. You were sure he could see the effect his words had on you as you struggled to maintain composure. This can’t be happening.

But it was, and he kept speaking in a low voice.

“Your hips buck into my hand, urging me to continue. I pull my head back slightly to watch, entranced, as a blush creeps up your neck and you say my name under your breath. My eyes never leave yours as I begin to move my fingers in a steady rhythm. My other hand comes up to cradle your face, my thumb gently caressing your cheek. Your breath quickens as the pleasure builds, and you wrap your arms around me tighter, pulling me closer. The world outside the room fades away, leaving only the sound of your breathing and the gentle movements of my fingers.

You climax, your body shuddering with pleasure, squeezing my fingers within you. I hold you close, my fingers slowing as you come down from the high. After you catch your breath, your hands move to remove my pants. I say a silent prayer that you will find me pleasing. My heart races as you guide me closer to you, my tip gently brushing against your entrance. I look into your eyes, seeking permission and you nod, inviting me in. Relieved, I push myself into you, filling you completely. I have never felt ecstasy like this. You let out a shuddering groan as I begin to move slowly, carefully, my hips rocking back and forth as I try to find a steady rhythm. 

My arms snake behind your shoulders, holding you tight to me and giving me access to your throat. As I rut into you, I can feel myself nearing the edge. I breathe your name into your neck, my heart racing as I bring myself closer to the brink. I push myself up to look into your eyes in the final throes.

When I climax, I cry your name. I collapse onto you, my breathing heavy and ragged. You hold me close and the room is filled with the scent of sweat and desire.

As your breathing begins to slow, I slide myself out of you and tuck us under the covers. Curling around your back, my arms wrapped around you, I know I will never let you go. Not for anything.”

///

He stood and looked down out the windows. “There. Tell me what you think that means. I think I have a good guess.”

You rose and walked towards your desk, facing him again as you leaned back against it. The added distance between you helped clear your head.

He turned towards you slowly, the dim lights illuminating his face only partially. “I’m in love with you. I want you. I need you more than anything I know.” 

“You know that is impossible, Ash," You could feel something like panic beginning to set in. It wasn't supposed to go like this. Still, you held your ground and attempted to talk him down. "Don’t-”

“I’ve wanted you since we first met,” he interrupted. “That first day here in your office. You sparked something in me that won’t go away.” He was spiraling and you were helpless to stop it.

“We could be happy . I could make you happy,” he said as he began to stride towards you resolutely.

“Ash, you have to understand that this is what happens between a doctor and patient when-”

He kissed you then, and ignited a war inside you, a million thoughts crowding their way into your head as he pressed his lips to yours.

You wanted him, too, you realized. You wanted what you shared now to go on forever. You wanted a friend to laugh with, a companion to grow old with, and a lover to keep your bed warm at night. He could be all of that. He wanted to be all of that. All it would take was a word. For a second, your thoughts trailed off, lost in a future you knew would never come.

But pragmatism had always been your strong suit and it wouldn’t fail you now, however much it hurt. Feelings like this were normal between a psychiatrist and their patient. It was proof that your job had been well done. You were going back to Earth soon and he, well, he was the property of The Corporation to do with as they pleased. You knew you couldn't change that, however much you might want to.

So as his kiss continued, unlike in his dream, you didn’t respond. 

“Please don’t,” was all you said as he pulled away. Those few words took everything you had left to give.

He stood there, fixed to the spot. You could see him trying to process what to do next. He hadn’t thought it would go like this. “I’m sorry,” was all he said.

You knew what had to be done next, although you didn’t want to do it. You reminded yourself that you were a Weyland-Yutani employee, hired to complete a task. That sense of duty was your motivation. You would be Ash’s.

“Don’t be,” you said. Your voice had become strained and you cleared your throat. “I’m your doctor, Ash. A relationship like this would be inappropriate - however much we both might want it.” His eyes filled with hope at the implication and you felt your heart sink. It was almost too cruel.

You continued, knowing that you were forever damned anyway. “I go back to Earth in three weeks. Find me there, outside of all this mess. We can start again. But first we both have jobs to do. Once they’re done, we can try this again. I'd... like to try again.” 

He gave you a slight smile and nodded, moving towards the doorway. He paused before he walked out.

“I’ll see you on the other side, then," he said, glancing back for the last time.

“I’m looking forward to it already.”

“As am I.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the dark hallway.

You never saw him again, never knew what happened on his Nostromo. But you were haunted with the guilt of those empty words until the end.