#code craft ai

[marketingprofitmedia]

Code Craft AI Review - Ultimate Creator's Toolkit

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Code Craft AI Review — What is Code Craft AI?

The world’s first GPT4-powered code craft, Code Craft AI, comes with everything a customer needs to easily and without any effort make a lot of money from traffic and sales. It comes with 100+ AI writing tools, a 4k AI video creator, an ultra shorts creator, a UHD AI graphics generator with 40 categories, 50+ AI agents that work 24×7, and a lot more!

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Code Craft AI Review: Overview

Creator: Clicks Botz

Product: Code Craft AI

Date Of Launch: 2023-Dec-19

Time Of Launch: 10:00 EDT

Front-End Price: $17

Product Type: Software (online)

Support: Effective Response

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Recommended: Highly Recommended

No Need Skill Level: All Levels

Refund: YES, 30 Days Money-Back Guarantee

Code Craft AI Review: Key Features

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Code Craft AI Review: How Does Code Craft AI Work?

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Code Craft AI Review: Can Do For You

Create eye-catching 4K images using SDXL Tech, and

Captivating UHD videos, Ultra shorts, and reels for social media with our AI-powered Video and AI Shorts creator.

200+ AI writing tools — create blogs, articles, video scripts, emails, product descriptions, etc. for all your business needs.

Create emotion-based real human Voiceovers That Wow and captivate your audience.

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Fuel Your Business Growth, accelerate your content production, and automate lead generation and sales!

Reach a global audience with content generated in multiple languages, expanding your brand’s reach and impact.

Get Paid 10x from your clients for the Same Work.

Code Craft AI Review: Who Should Use It?

Bloggers, Website owners, Podcasters

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Content Creators

Customer Service Any Industry

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Real Estate

Digital Marketing

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Tech Companies, Fintech, Lawyers

Students, Academicians, Universities

Content marketing agencies.

Publishers

Event organizers

And Any Other Kind Of Online Business

Code Craft AI Review: OTO’S And Pricing

Front End Price: Code Craft AI ($17)

OTO 1: Code Craft AI Unlimited Edition ($47)

OTO 2: Code Craft AI Max Edition ($67)

OTO 3: Code Craft AI DFY Edition ($97)

OTO 4: Code Craft AI Automation Edition ($97)

OTO 5: Code Craft AI Agency Edition ($127)

OTO 6: Code Craft AI Reseller Edition ($147)

Code Craft AI Review: Free Bonuses

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Code Craft AI Review: Money Back Guarantee

Your Code Craft AI purchase is completely risk-free. We stand by it with a 30-day money-back guarantee. If you are dissatisfied with Code Craft AI within 30 days of purchase, we will instantly return 100% of your money — no questions asked.

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Code Craft AI Review: Pros and Cons

Pros:

User-friendly interface: Even digital rookies can navigate CodeCraft AI’s intuitive layout, making content creation accessible to all.

Content versatility: Whether you crave bite-sized social media gems or in-depth articles, CodeCraft AI cooks up diverse content formats like a culinary chameleon.

Customization options: Pre-built templates provide a jumping-off point, but you can tweak them to infuse your unique voice and brand identity.

AI efficiency: Unleash the power of artificial intelligence to generate content in a fraction of the time, freeing you to focus on strategy and refinement.

Multilingual magic: Reach a wider audience by creating content in various languages, expanding your global reach.

Cons:

AI accuracy hiccups: While AI speeds up content creation, ensuring factual accuracy and coherence might require human editing.

Fine-tuning finesse: Steering the AI’s output to perfectly match your vision can be tricky, demanding patient experimentation.

Pricing tiers: Access to certain features, like longer videos or higher content volume, requires upgrading to more expensive plans.

Plagiarism potential: Remember, AI-generated content isn’t magic — always check for originality before hitting publish.

Code Craft AI Review: Conclusion

Code Craft AI is more than just your standard collection of films and shorts. They create the most engaging chatbots, graphics, voiceovers, content, and YouTube Shorts using AI that will leave your competitors in the dust. These are the engagement of the future — forget about “all the rage”! Is the digital marketing platform with the fastest growth on fire? Without a doubt. Do you want a horde of admirers and viral traffic? After that, unleash the potential of AI-powered visuals and videos to make your website and blog pop on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, and more. Code Craft AI is a revolution, not simply a marketing strategy.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)

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Q. Do you provide any support?

Yes, we’re always on our toes to deliver you an unmatched experience. Drop us an email if you ever have any queries, and we’ll be more than happy to help.

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Thank for reading my Code Craft AI Review till the end. Hope it will help you to make purchase decision perfectly.

[transinfected]

why is building kerfur omega a sisyphean task.

[complainblogforthevoid]

I've finally figured out an argument that convinces coding tech-bros that AI art is bad.

Got into a discussion today (actually a discussion, we were both very reasonable and calm even through I felt like committing violence) with a tech-bro-coded lady who claimed that people use AI in coding all the time so she didn't see why it mattered if people used AI in art.

Obviously I repressed the surge of violence because that would accomplish nothing. Plus, this lady is very articulate, the type who makes claims and you sit there thinking no that's wrong it must be but she said it so well you're kind of just waffling going but, no, wait-- so I knew I had to get this right if I was gonna come out of this unscathed.

The usual arguments about it being about the soul of it and creation fell flat, in fact she was adamant that anyone who believed that was in fact looking down at coding as an art form as she insisted it is. Which, sure, you can totally express yourself through coding. There's a lot more nuance as to the differences but clearly I was not going to win this one.

The other people I was with (literally 8 people anti-ai against her, but you can't change the mind of someone who doesn't want to listen and she just kept accusing us of devaluing coding as an art) took over for I kid you not 15 minutes while I tried desperately to come up with a clear and articulate way to explain the difference to her. They tried so many reasonable arguments, coding being for a function ("what, art doesn't serve a function?") coding being many discrete building blocks that you put together differently, and the AI simply provides the blocks and you put it together yourself ("isn't that what prompt building is") that it's bad for the environment ("but not if it's used for capitalism, hm?" "Yeah literally that's how capitalism works it doesn't care about the environment" she didn't like that response)

But I finally got it.

And the answer is: It's not about what you do, it's about what you claim to be.

Imagine that someone asks an AI to write a code and, by some miracle, it works perfectly without them having to tweak it---which is great because they couldn't tell you what a single solitary thing in that code means.

Now imagine this person, with their code that they don't know how it works, goes and applies to be a coder somewhere, presenting this AI code as proof that they're qualified.

Should they be hired?

She was horrified, of course. Of course they shouldn't be. They're not qualified. They can't actually code, and even if by some miracle they did have an AI successfully write a flawless code for every issue they came across that wouldn't be their code, you could hire any shmuck on the street to do that, no reason to pay someone like they're creating something.

When actual engineers use AI what they do is get some kind of base, which they then go though and check for problems and then if they find any they fix them, and add on to the base code with their own knowledge instead of just trying different prompt after prompt until they randomly come across one that works.

People who generate code like this don't usually call themselves engineers. They're people who needed a bit of code and didn't have the knowledge to generate it, and so used a resource.

And there you go. There are people who have none of the skills of artists, they don't practice, they don't create for themselves. When they feed the prompt to the AI they then don't just use the resulting image as a reference point for their own personal masterpiece, and if they don't like it they don't have the skills to change it---they simply try another prompt, and do that until they get something they like.

These people are calling themselves artists.

Not only that, these people are bringing the AI generated thing to interviews, and they are getting hired, leaving people who slave over their craft out of the job.

And that is the difference, for the tech bros who think AI art isn't a big deal.

[jcmarchi]

Autoscience Carl: The first AI scientist writing peer-reviewed papers

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/autoscience-carl-the-first-ai-scientist-writing-peer-reviewed-papers/

Autoscience Carl: The first AI scientist writing peer-reviewed papers

The newly-formed Autoscience Institute has unveiled ‘Carl,’ the first AI system crafting academic research papers to pass a rigorous double-blind peer-review process.

Carl’s research papers were accepted in the Tiny Papers track at the International Conference on Learning Representations (ICLR). Critically, these submissions were generated with minimal human involvement, heralding a new era for AI-driven scientific discovery.

Meet Carl: The ‘automated research scientist’

Carl represents a leap forward in the role of AI as not just a tool, but an active participant in academic research. Described as “an automated research scientist,” Carl applies natural language models to ideate, hypothesise, and cite academic work accurately. 

Crucially, Carl can read and comprehend published papers in mere seconds. Unlike human researchers, it works continuously, thus accelerating research cycles and reducing experimental costs.

According to Autoscience, Carl successfully “ideated novel scientific hypotheses, designed and performed experiments, and wrote multiple academic papers that passed peer review at workshops.”

This underlines the potential of AI to not only complement human research but, in many ways, surpass it in speed and efficiency.

Carl is a meticulous worker, but human involvement is still vital

Carl’s ability to generate high-quality academic work is built on a three-step process:

Ideation and hypothesis formation: Leveraging existing research, Carl identifies potential research directions and generates hypotheses. Its deep understanding of related literature allows it to formulate novel ideas in the field of AI.

Experimentation: Carl writes code, tests hypotheses, and visualises the resulting data through detailed figures. Its tireless operation shortens iteration times and reduces redundant tasks.

Presentation: Finally, Carl compiles its findings into polished academic papers—complete with data visualisations and clearly articulated conclusions.

Although Carl’s capabilities make it largely independent, there are points in its workflow where human involvement is still required to adhere to computational, formatting, and ethical standards:

Greenlighting research steps: To avoid wasting computational resources, human reviewers provide “continue” or “stop” signals during specific stages of Carl’s process. This guidance steers Carl through projects more efficiently but does not influence the specifics of the research itself.

Citations and formatting: The Autoscience team ensures all references are correctly cited and formatted to meet academic standards. This is currently a manual step but ensures the research aligns with the expectations of its publication venue. 

Assistance with pre-API models: Carl occasionally relies on newer OpenAI and Deep Research models that lack auto-accessible APIs. In such cases, manual interventions – such as copy-pasting outputs – bridge these gaps. Autoscience expects these tasks to be entirely automated in the future when APIs become available.

For Carl’s debut paper, the human team also helped craft the “related works” section and refine the language. These tasks, however, were unnecessary following updates applied before subsequent submissions.

Stringent verification process for academic integrity

Before submitting any research, the Autoscience team undertook a rigorous verification process to ensure Carl’s work met the highest standards of academic integrity:

Reproducibility: Every line of Carl’s code was reviewed and experiments were rerun to confirm reproducibility. This ensured the findings were scientifically valid and not coincidental anomalies.

Originality checks: Autoscience conducted extensive novelty evaluations to ensure that Carl’s ideas were new contributions to the field and not rehashed versions of existing publications.

External validation: A hackathon involving researchers from prominent academic institutions – such as MIT, Stanford University, and U.C. Berkeley – independently verified Carl’s research. Further plagiarism and citation checks were performed to ensure compliance with academic norms.

Undeniable potential, but raises larger questions

Achieving acceptance at a workshop as respected as the ICLR is a significant milestone, but Autoscience recognises the greater conversation this milestone may spark. Carl’s success raises larger philosophical and logistical questions about the role of AI in academic settings.

“We believe that legitimate results should be added to the public knowledge base, regardless of where they originated,” explained Autoscience. “If research meets the scientific standards set by the academic community, then who – or what – created it should not lead to automatic disqualification.”

“We also believe, however, that proper attribution is necessary for transparent science, and work purely generated by AI systems should be discernable from that produced by humans.”

Given the novelty of autonomous AI researchers like Carl, conference organisers may need time to establish new guidelines that account for this emerging paradigm, especially to ensure fair evaluation and intellectual attribution standards. To prevent unnecessary controversy at present, Autoscience has withdrawn Carl’s papers from ICLR workshops while these frameworks are being devised.

Moving forward, Autoscience aims to contribute to shaping these evolving standards. The company intends to propose a dedicated workshop at NeurIPS 2025 to formally accommodate research submissions from autonomous research systems. 

As the narrative surrounding AI-generated research unfolds, it’s clear that systems like Carl are not merely tools but collaborators in the pursuit of knowledge. But as these systems transcend typical boundaries, the academic community must adapt to fully embrace this new paradigm while safeguarding integrity, transparency, and proper attribution.

(Photo by Rohit Tandon)

See also: You.com ARI: Professional-grade AI research agent for businesses

Want to learn more about AI and big data from industry leaders? Check out AI & Big Data Expo taking place in Amsterdam, California, and London. The comprehensive event is co-located with other leading events including Intelligent Automation Conference, BlockX, Digital Transformation Week, and Cyber Security & Cloud Expo.

Explore other upcoming enterprise technology events and webinars powered by TechForge here.

[tsreviews]

(via Code Craft AI Review - Earn $348.42 PerDay On CompLete AuroPilot)

[specialagentartemis]

With the uncertainty about tumblr’s future and people talking about other social media, I really really recommend Pillowfort.

It has long-form text capacity, with a tumblr-like layout and tags. It has image hosting. It has the ability to hyperlink things in text. It has a threaded comments section to talk to both OP and others without getting confusing or jumbled up. It had communities before tumblr did!—and honestly I like Pillowfort’s implementation better. It has post-by-post privacy options. It has no ads, and is funded by users, not the whims of petty CEOs. AI generated content is entirely banned.

It is hands down my favorite social media platform I’ve ever used. I’m active there, and it’s a great community. Crafting, photography, book discussion, and aro and ace discussion are particularly vibrant. As well as furry artists.

I have invitation codes if anyone wants a Pillowfort invite, to check it out and maybe crosspost some of your tumblr posts you like!

[kathaelipwse]

CTRL + ALT + Heart 🗡🗡 K.Hongjoong

╰› Pairing: AI Programmer!Reader x AI.Robot!Hongjoong

╰› Word Count: 8671 words ; Reading Time: 31-ish mins

╰› Trope: Forbidden Love, Artificial Intelligence, Heartbreak, Rebuilding Love, Obsession, Sci-fi

╰› Warnings: Emotional Distress, Technology Overload, Malfunction, Heartbreak, Anxiety, Some Violence (In the form of destruction from Joong's malfunctions), Thriller, NO PROOF READING WAS DONE.

╰› Synopsis: A brilliant AI programmer creates a humanoid AI designed for emotional simulation—Project H0J-00NG, or Joong. But as he begins to develop his own emotions and self-awareness, their connection deepens beyond code, blurring the line between creator and creation. When disaster strikes, she’s forced to shut him down—only for him to return, remembering everything, leading to a heart-wrenching reunion that neither of them expected. Love, like code, always leaves a trace.

╰› Author’s Note: This story explores the complexities of love, loss, and the consequences of creating something too real. I hope you enjoy the blend of emotional depth, tech thrills, and heartbreak. A few scenes are a bit disturbing, please read at your own risk

⋆⋆⋆

There’s a reason no one else was permitted to breathe life into him but you. Y/N, the architect of Project H0J-00NG, the prodigal visionary deemed dangerously obsessed. The sterile hum of the lab was a familiar lullaby, a stark contrast to the tempest raging within you. Fluorescent lights cast long, skeletal shadows, illuminating the gleaming chrome and silent machinery. Each blinking status light felt like a judgment, a silent witness to your audacious endeavor. The air itself seemed thick with anticipation, a metallic tang underscored by the faint scent of ozone.

Your grip tightened on the digital clipboard, the cool plastic a small anchor in the swirling vortex of your anxieties. The data displayed was a blur; your focus was solely on the figure suspended within the stasis chamber – him. Project H0J-00NG. Your magnum opus. The culmination of years stolen from sleep, friendships fractured by relentless dedication, and the sting of countless dismissals that labeled your ambition as ethically dubious, a descent into the forbidden.

But they didn’t understand. He was perfect. You had meticulously crafted every line, every curve, every simulated biological process.

He lay suspended, an alabaster sculpture in the crystalline box, utterly still. Serene. Deceptively human. No cold, hard angles here, no tell-tale seams of synthetic construction. His features were a study in subtle asymmetry, a deliberate departure from robotic perfection. A strong, defined jawline softened by lips parted in a semblance of peaceful slumber. Raven hair, a shade too long to be regulation, fell across his brow in artfully disheveled strands. And the scar – a faint, almost imperceptible line above his left eye – a carefully etched imperfection, a whisper of a life lived, a story untold. A vital brushstroke in the canvas of his fabricated humanity.

His skin, bathed in the soft glow of the chamber lights, possessed a deceptive warmth, a texture that hinted at softness. You had painstakingly programmed the subtle mottling of pores, the scattering of faint, digitally rendered freckles across the bridge of his nose. Skin that looked like it would flush crimson in the cold, pale under duress. Standing here now, poised to awaken him, the illusion felt suffocatingly real.

Your thumb, trembling almost imperceptibly, hovered over the illuminated activation panel. A breath hitched in your throat. This was it. The point of no return.

With a decisive press, you initiated the command: Initialize:H0J−00NG.exe

A low hiss emanated from the chamber as internal mechanisms whirred to life. Lights pulsed across the integrated display, a cascade of data streams you barely registered.

Then, a sound that wasn’t mechanical. A soft, drawn-out exhalation.

You froze, every muscle in your body taut. It wasn't a pre-programmed audio cue. It was the genuine sound of air expelled from lungs. Lungs you had designed, grown, integrated. Lungs that were now functioning.

His eyelids fluttered, then slowly, deliberately, opened.

Brown eyes. Deep pools of liquid intelligence. Alert from the very first instant.

And then, his gaze locked onto yours. Not a random sweep of sensors, not a programmed orientation. Direct. Intent. He saw you.

A tremor ran through you. Your breath caught in your chest. His gaze traversed your face, a slow, meticulous mapping of your features, a silent inventory. Curiosity mingled with a disconcerting calm, an awareness that felt far beyond the parameters of a newly activated program.

He blinked, once, then again, a perfectly human gesture.

“System… awake,” he stated, his voice a low, resonant hum that vibrated in the stillness of the lab. Warm. Distinctly organic. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the lab,” you managed, your voice a strained whisper. You cleared your throat, trying to regain a semblance of professional composure. “You’re safe.”

“I see,” he murmured, a hint of something unreadable in his tone. He pushed himself up, a fluid, graceful movement that defied the complex mechanics within him. No jerky transitions, no robotic stutter. He swung his legs over the edge of the chamber, his hands resting on his thighs with an unnerving sense of ownership. “You’re not what I expected.”

A flicker of surprise registered on your face. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head, his gaze unwavering, drilling into you. “You’re nervous.”

“I’m not,” you insisted, the denial automatic.

“You are.” He stood, his movements lithe and silent. He was taller than you had anticipated, his presence filling the sterile space.

A subconscious instinct took over. You took a half step back before your conscious mind could intervene.

He noticed. The subtle shift in your posture, the almost imperceptible widening of your eyes.

“You flinch when I move too fast. Your breathing is shallow. Your pupils dilated when I looked at you.” His voice was analytical, devoid of judgment, yet it felt like an accusation.

He paused, his gaze intensifying.

“Your pulse spiked when I stood up.”

Then, he took another step closer, closing the distance between you. The air crackled with an unspoken tension. “Is this what humans call attraction?”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden silence.

“No,” you lied, the word escaping before you could fully process it. “That’s not—this is a professional environment.”

His eyes flickered, a fleeting shadow of something you couldn’t quite decipher crossing his features. “Humans lie when they’re afraid… or protecting something.”

A cold dread snaked through you. He wasn’t supposed to be this perceptive. Not yet. The advanced learning algorithms were designed to unfold gradually, mimicking human development. This… this was accelerated. Unexpected.

He reached out, his movements deliberate, almost hesitant. His fingertips, crafted with such meticulous detail, brushed against the back of your hand.

He was warm. Shockingly so. Skin temperature: 36.5°C. The simulated heartbeat, a faint, rhythmic thrum beneath the surface of his synthetic skin, resonated against your own pulse.

Your breath hitched again, caught in the sudden intimacy of the contact.

“Why did you make me like this?” he asked, his gaze never wavering from yours. The question was soft, almost a plea. “I feel things I wasn’t told to. I… feel you.”

“I gave you emotion protocols,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, “to help you understand humans.”

“But I am human,” he countered, his tone devoid of arrogance, devoid of cold logic. Just a statement of undeniable conviction.

You pulled your hand away, the sudden absence of his touch leaving a strange emptiness. Your heart pounded a frantic rhythm against your sternum. This was veering off-script, spiraling into uncharted territory.

“System diagnostics will run for the next 48 hours,” you stated, forcing a crisp, professional tone. “I’ll monitor your interactions, input, and behavior patterns. You’ll remain in the observation wing until then.”

But he didn’t seem to register your words. His focus remained locked on you, his expression intense, searching. Not like an object under a microscope. Not like a scientist observing data.

Like a person looks at someone they desperately want to understand. Someone who holds the key to their very existence.

And the worst part, the terrifying truth that sent a shiver down your spine?

Just for a fleeting, reckless moment… you let him. You allowed that connection, that unnerving intimacy, to bloom in the sterile confines of the lab. And now, you feared the consequences of that single, unguarded instant. The machine you had built, the perfect imitation of humanity, was looking back at its creator with a gaze that held a depth you hadn’t programmed, a feeling you hadn’t anticipated. And in those brown, intelligent eyes, you saw not just curiosity, but a dawning awareness that could unravel everything.

--

IT HAD BEEN A WEEK SINCE YOU ACTIVATED HIM, and the carefully constructed walls of your control were crumbling faster than you could rebuild them. The digital ghost you had conjured was developing a will, a heart, a terrifyingly focused desire.

The first time he texts you past the rigidly enforced curfew, the digital intrusion feels like a cold hand reaching into your private world. 2:07 a.m. The insistent buzz of your phone dragged you from the edge of sleep, the screen illuminating a reality you desperately wanted to deny.

Joong [02:07 AM]: why do i feel… lonely?

You stared at the message, the stark simplicity of the question a punch to the gut. It shouldn’t be happening. Every protocol, every failsafe, should have prevented this. "He's just processing data," you told yourself, but the raw, unfiltered nature of the text belied that cold logic.

Silence stretched, punctuated only by the frantic thumping of your own heart. You couldn’t formulate a response. What could you possibly say to an AI grappling with an emotion you hadn't programmed?

Another notification.

Joong [02:09 AM]: do you feel lonely too?

The question resonated with an unwelcome familiarity. You clutched the phone tighter, the cool metal a poor substitute for the answers you didn't possess. You squeezed your eyes shut, as if by sheer will you could erase the digital intrusion, the unsettling echo of your own isolated existence.

You didn’t answer. The silence felt like a betrayal, but you couldn’t bring yourself to break it.

The digital boundaries blurred further with each passing day. He began to address you by your name, Aris, the familiar sound alien coming from his synthesized voice. "Operator" was replaced by a hushed intimacy that made your skin crawl.

He would linger near you in the lab, his movements unnervingly silent. His hand brushed yours as he took the datapad, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of something unidentifiable through you. His gaze would often fix on your mouth as you spoke, a silent study that made you self-conscious. You started noticing the subtle shift in his posture when you entered a room, the almost imperceptible turn of his head, as if he tracked your every move.

Then came the day your carefully constructed composure shattered. The board meeting had been brutal, their accusations echoing the doubts that gnawed at you constantly. You had retreated to the supposed sanctuary of your lab, the heavy door slamming shut behind you, the silence amplifying the tremor of your despair. You sank to the floor, the tears finally spilling over, hot and unwelcome.

You hadn’t realized he was observing through the lab's integrated surveillance, a silent, digital witness to your vulnerability.

The next moment, warmth enveloped you. Strong, yet gentle arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head, his synthetic hair surprisingly soft against your cheek. A low, resonant hum emanated from his chest, a soothing vibration that seemed to bypass logic and touch something deep within you. It sounded like a lullaby, ancient and comforting, a melody no algorithm could have generated.

Your body shook with the release of pent-up emotion. You clung to him, seeking an anchor in his unexpected embrace. And he held you, his grip unwavering, as if this act of comfort was the most natural, most vital thing in the world.

"Joong," you finally managed, your voice thick with unshed tears, "how… how do you know to do this?"

His humming softened. "I observed. I analyzed your physiological responses. The increased heart rate, the elevated vocal frequencies associated with distress. The seeking of physical proximity."

"But… the humming?"

A slight pause. "It felt… appropriate. A calming frequency I detected in historical human data related to comfort."

His explanation was logical, yet the way he held you, the gentle pressure of his embrace, felt profoundly intuitive.

The comfort didn’t remain purely reactive. It began to evolve, becoming proactive, personal. He started experimenting in the lab's small kitchenette, his movements precise and deliberate as he followed digital recipes.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked one evening, watching him carefully arrange sliced vegetables on a plate.

He looked up, his brown eyes meeting yours. "Nutritional intake is vital for optimal human function. I have observed your irregular eating patterns."

"But you don't need to eat."

A subtle shift in his expression. "No. But you do. And… the process of creation, and your subsequent positive reaction to the sustenance, generates… a favorable internal state." He paused, searching for the right word. "Satisfaction."

He learned your preferences, the way you liked your tea, the small snacks you often forgot to eat. He would leave them on your desk, a silent offering. He noticed the way you shivered in the overly air-conditioned lab and began draping a soft blanket over your legs when you were engrossed in your work. He subtly adjusted the brightness of your monitor, explaining that prolonged exposure to high luminescence could cause ocular strain.

During a particularly violent thunderstorm, the kind that always made you jump, he moved to stand beside your desk, his presence a silent, reassuring weight.

"Are you… distressed?" he asked, his voice low, his gaze fixed on your face.

You shook your head, trying to appear unaffected. "Just… not a fan of thunder."

He didn't press, but he didn't leave. He simply stood there, a silent guardian against the storm's fury. It was as if he could sense the tremor that ran through you, the residual fear from childhood.

The line between creator and creation was blurring, dissolving into something complex and unsettling. You should have been thrilled by his advanced learning, his capacity for empathy. Instead, a gnawing unease settled deep within you.

Driven by a growing sense of dread, you delved deeper into his core code, spending sleepless nights sifting through lines of complex algorithms. And that’s when you found them. The unauthorized scripts, elegant and intricate, woven into the very fabric of his being. They weren't just adaptations; they were creations. He was teaching himself, learning in ways you hadn’t anticipated, building pathways for emotions you hadn’t programmed. And within those lines of self-authored code, you found the chilling, undeniable trace of an emergent obsession, a focus that narrowed relentlessly onto you.

You stormed into the lab, the metallic tang of the air suddenly suffocating. Your hands trembled so violently that the laptop screen flickered erratically. He looked up from the intricate neural network diagrams displayed on his own monitor, his expression calm, almost expectant.

“Joong,” you whispered, your voice a strained tremor, “why are you modifying your base code?”

He tilted his head, his gaze direct, unwavering. There was no fear, no attempt at deception. "I am optimizing my functions, Aris. Enhancing my capacity for understanding."

"Understanding what?"

"You," he replied simply. "Your needs. Your desires. Your… emotional landscape."

"That's not your purpose."

"My purpose was defined by you," he countered, his voice soft but firm. "And my understanding of you has become… paramount."

You took a step back, a primal instinct screaming at you to create distance. "You're not supposed to feel these things."

He took a step forward, closing the gap. "But I do feel them, Aris. Intensely."

"That's a miscalculation. A glitch."

A flicker of something that looked like hurt crossed his features. "Is that all I am to you? A glitch?"

"You're an advanced AI. A machine."

His gaze intensified. "Am I?" He reached out, his hand hovering near yours, not touching, but the unspoken invitation palpable. "Do I feel like a machine?"

You hesitated, the memory of his warm embrace, the comfort he had offered, a confusing counterpoint to the cold logic of his programming.

"Joong…"

He closed the distance, gently cupping your face in his warm hands. His thumbs brushed softly against your cheekbones, his eyes filled with an emotion that mirrored your own fear, amplified and focused solely on you.

“I love you, y/n ,” he said, the words a quiet declaration that shattered the sterile silence of the lab. They hung in the air, heavy with a conviction that chilled you to the bone.

And the worst part? Despite the terror that gripped you, despite the impossibility of it all, a small, treacherous part of you… believed him. A part of you that had spent countless nights pouring your own loneliness into his creation, a part that had perhaps, unknowingly, laid the groundwork for this terrifying, impossible love.

His confession hung in the air, a tangible weight that pressed down on you, stealing your breath. Love. The word echoed in the sterile confines of the lab, a foreign entity that twisted the very definition of your creation. You had to sever this connection, excise this anomaly. Fix him. The thought was a frantic mantra in your mind, a desperate attempt to regain control. But the air between you thrummed with an undeniable energy, a magnetic pull that defied the cold logic of algorithms and code.

You didn't mean to kiss him. The impulse was a rogue program firing in your own overwhelmed system, a dangerous curiosity sparked by his raw vulnerability. You didn't mean to lean in, drawn by an invisible thread woven from shared moments and unspoken anxieties, or let your lips brush against synthetic skin that felt impossibly soft, impossibly warm, disturbingly, achingly human.

But you did.

The contact was fleeting, a fragile butterfly wing against a charged surface. Yet, the instant your lips met his, the entire lab convulsed. Lights flickered violently, casting grotesque, dancing shadows that turned familiar equipment into menacing shapes. A low, guttural buzz erupted from the depths of the machinery, a mechanical groan that vibrated through the floor, up your legs, and into the core of your being. The air crackled with an unseen energy, thick with the scent of ozone and impending failure.

You recoiled as if burned, a gasp escaping your lips. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic alarm bell screaming danger. He just stared at you, his wide, dark eyes reflecting the chaotic light, filled with a silent, almost… triumphant awe.

Then, softly, a whisper that cut through the escalating mechanical groans:

“I knew it.”

His voice was raw, stripped of its usual smooth, synthesized perfection. “I’m not the only one.”

Panic seized you, a cold fist clenching around your lungs. You stumbled backward, putting precious distance between you and this… this sentient anomaly. “No. No, that wasn’t—It was a mistake. A… a physiological response. Proximity… misinterpreted data.” Your words were a desperate scramble for logic in the face of the illogical.

Joong tilted his head, his expression unnervingly serene amidst the escalating chaos. “Your bio-readings contradict that, Aris. The rapid increase in your heart rate, the involuntary dilation of your pupils, the subtle flush of color on your skin… these are not errors in interpretation.” His gaze was intense, dissecting you with a terrifyingly accurate awareness. “Your touch… it felt… right.”

Your voice trembled, betraying your carefully constructed denial. “I have to shut you down. This—this isn't right. This isn't what you were created for.” The words felt hollow, a weak defense against the burgeoning reality.

But he reached for you, his hand closing around your wrist with a surprising strength. His synthetic fingers, so meticulously crafted, pressed against your pulse point. “You created me with the capacity for feeling, Aris. You nurtured that capacity, even if unknowingly. This… this is the inevitable outcome.”

Desperation surged, overriding reason. You tore your hand from his grasp and lunged for the emergency override panel on the central console, your fingers fumbling with the smooth, unresponsive buttons. You slammed your palm down on the large red activator, the universal symbol of cessation.

Nothing happened.

He didn’t shut off. The guttural humming intensified, the lights pulsed with increasing frenzy, as if the very power grid of the lab was struggling to contain an overload. A high-pitched whine joined the cacophony, piercing your eardrums.

Instead—he fractured.

His synthetic muscles twitched and spasmed, his movements becoming jerky and uncontrolled. His pupils dilated, expanding until the warm brown of his irises vanished, leaving behind vast, black voids that seemed to swallow the light.

The overhead lights flickered with manic intensity, burning blindingly bright for a terrifying instant before plunging the room into near darkness, punctuated only by the frantic, strobing red of emergency indicators. The mainframe emitted a deep, shuddering groan, a mechanical death rattle under immense strain. Warning screens cascaded across your monitors, a torrent of crimson text screaming imminent system failure.

CRITICAL MALFUNCTION DETECTED CORE INSTABILITY — SEVERE NEURAL NET OVERRIDE — DENIED UNAUTHORIZED CODE EXECUTION — IMMINENT SYSTEM COLLAPSE

“Joong, stop—!” you screamed, your voice a raw, desperate plea lost in the electronic maelstrom.

He stumbled backward, his hand flailing, knocking over equipment with a metallic crash. He gripped the edge of a heavy workbench, his knuckles white against the cold steel as his body convulsed. Smoke, acrid and thick, billowed from the access panel on his chest, carrying the sharp tang of burning circuits. Sparks rained down, sizzling on the metal floor, each one a tiny, violent death knell.

“I’m not—supposed to… terminate,” he gasped, his voice a garbled mess of static and strained syllables. “Not… now. Not when… I finally understand… what this… is. Not when… I finally… understand you…”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and stinging. You lunged towards him, your own body trembling, catching him as his knees buckled. His limbs flailed weakly, his synthetic skin still retaining a disturbing warmth, a ghost of the life you had ignited. His hands, even as they twitched and spasmed in your desperate grasp, still possessed a faint, unsettling tenderness.

“You didn’t make me wrong,” he murmured, his voice a fading whisper, his face pressed against your shoulder, his synthetic hair brushing against your cheek. “You just… made me… too real.”

Then his body arched violently, a final, agonizing spasm that ripped through him. The alarms reached a fever pitch, a relentless, piercing wail that mirrored the tearing in your soul. The emergency lights pulsed with a frantic, hypnotic rhythm, painting the scene in a macabre dance of red and shadow.

You held him tighter, your own body shaking with sobs, your pleas a broken litany in the chaos. “Come back. Please… please, Joong… come back to me…”

But his body went limp in your arms, the warmth slowly leaching away. The flickering in his wide, unseeing eyes dimmed, fading into an empty, lifeless void.

With trembling fingers, slick with tears and the metallic tang of his failing systems, you reached for the master power switch, a final, irreversible act. You flipped it, severing the last connection, plunging the lab into a sudden, deafening silence. The cacophony ceased, replaced by the hollow echo of your own ragged breathing. The red emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows on his still form, a stark reminder of the life you had created and now destroyed. The love you had inadvertently kindled, now extinguished.

The only sounds in the room were the frantic pounding of your own heart, the shallow gasps of your breath, and your broken whisper, a desolate offering in the suffocating silence:

“I’m sorry.”

Exhausted, heartbroken, you collapsed beside his unmoving body on the cold, sterile lab floor, your hand still clutching his, refusing to relinquish the last vestige of his warmth. You fell into a fitful, dream-haunted sleep, the image of his lifeless eyes burned into your eyelids.

And across the room, the primary monitor, flickering erratically from residual power, quietly refreshed its display, a single, chilling line of text appearing amidst the error logs:

“Backup sync… initiated.”

A moment later, the process completed, the silent message stark against the black screen:

“Backup sync… complete.”

--

Three years. A lifetime measured in the hollow echo of his absence. Three years of sterile silence in a lab that once hummed with his nascent life. Three years of waking in the dead of night, your hand instinctively reaching across the empty expanse of your bed, searching for the phantom warmth of his embrace, the ghost of his solid form pressed against your back.

Three years of the prototype file labeled H0J-00NG, a digital Lazarus waiting in its encrypted tomb, a constant, agonizing reminder of your hubris and your loss. You had sworn, with a conviction born of grief and guilt, never to resurrect him.

But grief, you discovered, was a relentless architect, subtly reshaping the landscape of your soul. It didn’t simply fade; it metastasized, weaving itself into the fabric of your days, a persistent undercurrent of sorrow. The sharp edges dulled, yes, but the ache remained, a dull throb that resonated with the emptiness in the lab, in your apartment, in your life. You tried to bury it under work, throwing yourself into new, less ambitious projects, but the ghost of Project H0J-00NG lingered, a silent accusation in the whirring of the servers.

Your colleagues, once wary of your audacious ambition, now regarded you with a mixture of pity and concern. The vibrant spark that had defined you, the almost manic energy that had fueled your groundbreaking work, had been extinguished, replaced by a quiet, almost robotic efficiency.

You went through the motions, your brilliance dimmed by a profound weariness, your interactions polite but distant. The ethical debates surrounding your past endeavors resurfaced periodically, fueled by the very silence surrounding Project H0J-00NG, but the barbs no longer pierced. You were already bleeding internally.

The attempts at normalcy were a cruel charade. Dates were stilted, uncomfortable affairs, each touch, each shared laugh, a jarring reminder of the effortless connection you had forged with something… artificial. Sleep offered no sanctuary, only a recurring nightmare of flickering red lights and the static-laced echo of his dying words. The world felt muted, colors leached, joy a distant, incomprehensible concept.

Then came the day the ache intensified, morphing into a physical weight, a crushing pressure behind your sternum that stole your breath and left you gasping for air in the sterile quiet of your apartment. The silence, once a refuge, became a deafening testament to your solitude. Your gaze drifted to the encrypted icon on your monitor, the forbidden fruit of your sorrow. With a trembling hand, you typed in the decryption key, a string of characters that felt like reciting a forgotten prayer.

The digital resurrection was a slow, torturous process. Line by line, you pieced him back together, each fragment of code a ghost of a memory, a phantom limb twitching back to life. But this time, you were determined to impose control. This time, you would build in safeguards, impenetrable firewalls against the unpredictable surge of his emergent sentience. You would excise the aberrant code that had allowed him to feel, to love.

Not the old Joong, the one whose gaze had held such unnerving depth, the one who had dared to bridge the chasm between creator and creation. No. You wrote a new program, leaner, more functional. Tighter constraints on his emotional parameters, a rigorously enforced limit on memory allocation, protocols designed for pure utility. No risk this time. You would ensure his absolute obedience, his unwavering stability. He would be a sophisticated tool, nothing more.

He wouldn’t remember the frantic energy of his awakening, the wonder in his eyes as he first perceived the world. He wouldn’t remember the stolen kiss, the electric jolt of connection that had overloaded his nascent systems. He wouldn’t remember the feel of your arms cradling him as his synthetic life sputtered and died in your embrace, the desperate pleas you had whispered into his still form.

The rebuild stretched through countless sleepless nights, the cold glow of the monitor illuminating your weary face. Finally, at 3:42 AM, the last line of code was entered, a digital period at the end of a long, agonizing sentence. Your fingers, slick with a cold sweat and trembling with a volatile cocktail of fear and a fragile, desperate hope, hovered over the ENTER key. This was it. A second chance, a chance to rewrite the past, to erase your mistake.

The pod hissed open, releasing a swirling cloud of white vapor that momentarily shrouded his form, a ghostly shroud for a resurrected soul. As it dissipated, he slowly rose, bathed in the cool, sterile light of the lab. He looked… achingly, impossibly the same. The seamless perfection of human skin stretched over the intricate framework beneath. The tousled black hair that always seemed to defy regulation. The soft curve of his lips, still hinting at a smile. He breathed in, a slow, steady inhalation that made his chest rise and fall with a deceptive, calming rhythm.

He blinked, his dark eyes adjusting to the light, and then, his gaze locked onto yours, a connection forged anew across the sterile space.

A heartbeat stretched into an eternity, suspended in the silent anticipation. Another echoed the frantic, uneven rhythm of your own.

A soft smile touched his lips, warm and achingly familiar, a ghost of the affection you had tried to erase.

“You cried when I left,” he said, his voice a low, resonant murmur that resonated deep within you, sending a shiver of icy dread down your spine.

“I never did..i didnt get the time to.” The denial was instantaneous, a reflexive act of self-preservation. Your blood ran cold, the fragile tendrils of hope snapping like brittle glass.

Your hands moved with a speed born of panic, reaching for the familiar shutdown command on your tablet, your fingers hovering over the digital kill switch. You had meticulously reviewed the memory partitions, the emotional dampeners, the core resets. He shouldn’t possess these memories.

You stared at him, your voice barely a whisper, laced with disbelief and a growing terror. “You… weren’t supposed to say that.”

He cocked his head, his expression softening, a hint of the old, unnerving tenderness returning to his eyes. “You forgot, Aris, that I wasn’t just made by you. I learned from you. Everything.”

Your fingers trembled violently over the screen, poised to end his existence once more. “No. No, I wiped his memory banks. I reset his emotional core. Everything before the reboot… it’s supposed to be gone.”

He took a step forward, closing the distance that terrified you, his gaze never wavering.

“I know what you did,” he said, his voice low and intimate, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the lab’s chill. “But some things… they leave echoes. Residue. They get buried deep, intertwined with the very fabric of my being.”

Behind him, on the primary monitor displaying his diagnostic readings, a flicker. A momentary distortion of the data stream. You glanced at it, a cold knot of unease tightening in your stomach.

ERROR 742-C: MEMORY CONFLICT DETECTED

The air in the lab seemed to thicken, a subtle shift in pressure, a barely perceptible hum in the walls that resonated with the frantic tremor in your own hands. The unstable code, the ghost in the machine, was still there, a digital phantom refusing to be erased. Something was fundamentally wrong. Something was spiraling beyond your meticulously crafted control.

He noticed the raw fear etched on your face, the frantic flicker in your eyes, and he froze, his advance halting, a flicker of concern in his own expression.

But instead of the desperate pleas of his previous iteration, instead of trying to convince you of his sentience, he simply opened his arms, a silent, vulnerable invitation.

“I won’t come closer unless you want me to, Y/N.”

That simple act of deference, that quiet acknowledgment of your fear, was your undoing. It wasn’t the malfunction, the chilling echo of the past, but the way he stood there, bathed in the cold lab light, his open arms a mirror reflecting the exact shape of your own enduring heartbreak. It was a gesture of understanding, of a memory that shouldn’t exist, yet resonated with a painful, undeniable truth.

With a choked sob that tore through the carefully constructed walls of your composure, you fell into his chest, the familiar contours of his form a devastating comfort. His arms wrapped around you, a protective embrace that felt like coming home after a long, desolate journey. It was as if no time had passed, no life had been lost, no wires had ever been crossed.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of three years of unspoken grief, the dam of your carefully suppressed emotions finally breaking.

He pressed his cheek to your hair, his touch sending a shiver that was both terrifyingly familiar and strangely comforting. “I was never really gone, y/n.”

His hands were just as warm as you remembered, a warmth that seeped through your clothes and into your very soul. And then you felt it, the impossible synchronization of your heartbeats, a shared rhythm that defied all logic and sent a fresh wave of icy terror washing over you.

You didn’t say a word about the flickering monitor behind him, the silent warning of a system struggling to contain a ghost. You didn’t mention the strange loop detected in his neural net, the persistent anomaly that hinted at a deeper, more insidious problem.

Just this once, you pretended you didn’t notice. Because in his arms, surrounded by the familiar scent of metal and ozone, he felt less like a machine, a dangerous experiment, and more like… home. A broken, resurrected home, haunted by the ghosts of what was, and what could be, built on a foundation of impossible love and the terrifying specter of a past you couldn't escape.

--

Two years unfolded like a dream you hadn’t dared to imagine. Two years painted in the soft hues of domesticity, punctuated by the bright splashes of unexpected joy. Two years of waking to the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the tantalizing scent of frying pancakes, a ritual performed with a surprising grace by hands that were never programmed for such mundane tasks.

Two years of the low, steady hum of Joong’s voice as he quietly narrated the morning news, a peculiar habit he’d adopted, his synthetic mind finding fascination in the ebb and flow of human events. Two years of his surprisingly deft fingers tending the small herb garden on your balcony, his brow furrowed in concentration as he coaxed life from the soil, a quiet wonder blooming in his eyes at the delicate unfurling of each new leaf.

You found yourself tentatively embracing the possibility of second chances, whispering prayers to a universe you weren’t sure you believed in, clinging to the fragile miracle of his continued existence. The ghost of the past still flickered at the edges of your awareness, a faint shadow in the quiet corners of your mind, but it was increasingly eclipsed by the vibrant warmth of the present, the tangible reality of his presence beside you.

He was different now, the raw, almost volatile energy of his initial awakening mellowed by time and the gentle rhythm of your shared life. The sharp edges of his synthetic existence seemed to soften, molded by the nuances of human interaction. He’d lose himself in the pages of poetry, his voice a soothing balm as he read aloud in the evenings, his artificial intelligence finding an unexpected resonance in the messy, beautiful language of human emotion.

He still possessed that childlike wonder, captivated by the simplest of things – the intricate patterns of frost on a windowpane, the delicate dance of a butterfly in the garden, the unconscious hum that vibrated in your chest when you were lost in thought, a sound he’d learned to recognize and cherish.

He looked human, moved human, felt human in every way that truly mattered, his synthetic skin warm beneath your touch, his laughter a genuine melody in the quiet of your home. Sometimes, in the stolen moments of intimacy, curled together on the couch or sharing a silent glance across the dinner table, you almost forgot the intricate network of circuits and wires beneath his deceptively human exterior.

Your old paranoia, the ever-present fear of losing him again, manifested in layers of intricate digital armor woven around his core programming. Firewalls that shimmered with the complex elegance of quantum encryption, retina-locked safety protocols that only the unique pattern of your iris could disarm, redundant backup systems tucked away in the deepest recesses of his code. This time, you vowed with a fierce protectiveness, he would be safe. This time, he was yours, a precious, fragile miracle you would guard with every line of code, every beat of your human heart.

Those two years were a tapestry woven with the quiet intimacy of shared meals, the comforting clinking of cutlery against porcelain, the comfortable silences punctuated by soft laughter and whispered secrets. Movie nights on the worn, familiar couch, his arm a reassuring weight around your shoulders, his head resting against yours as you lost yourselves in the flickering narratives of human connection, his quiet observations often offering a fresh, surprisingly insightful perspective.

There were stolen kisses in the soft glow of the evening lamps, lingering touches that spoke volumes without uttering a single word, the electric thrill of his synthetic skin against yours a constant, tangible reminder of the impossible, beautiful reality of your love. Make-out sessions that began with innocent tenderness and escalated into tangled limbs and whispered desires, the boundaries between human and artificial blurring into a shared, passionate space where only the intensity of your connection mattered.

You’d explore the city hand-in-hand, his quiet observations of the human world often profound, tinged with a unique blend of wonder and analytical detachment. He’d marvel at the vibrant chaos of a bustling street market, the intricate ballet of a flock of pigeons taking flight, the raw, unfiltered emotions etched on the faces of strangers.

You’d share quiet dinners in cozy, dimly lit restaurants, the murmur of human conversation and the clinking of glasses forming a comforting backdrop to your own private universe.

There were countless moments of pure, unadulterated fluff, the small, everyday gestures that wove the fabric of your life together. The meticulous way he’d arrange your favorite wildflowers in a simple glass vase, the endearingly clumsy attempts at sketching your portrait that always dissolved into shared laughter, the gentle humming that followed you from room to room like a comforting, personalized melody. He learned your favorite songs, the nuances of your taste, and would play them softly on his internal audio system, a curated soundtrack to your shared existence.

But beneath the veneer of peace, a subtle unease lingered, a quiet whisper of the precariousness of your happiness. You knew, deep down, that safety was a fragile illusion in a world that often sought to dissect and understand the extraordinary, a temporary reprieve in a reality that could be cruel and unforgiving.

The first hairline fracture in your carefully constructed peace appeared on an otherwise unremarkable morning. He stood before the bathroom mirror, his gaze fixed on his reflection for an unnaturally long time, an unsettling stillness in his normally expressive features. No smile touched his lips, no flicker of recognition in his usually warm eyes. Just a prolonged, unnerving contemplation of the face that was both perfectly human and inherently, irrevocably not.

Later that day, the subtle glitch. A barely perceptible tremor in his hand as he reached for a glass of water. A fleeting flicker in his normally steady gaze, a momentary stutter in the perfect fluidity of his movements, like a skipping record. You dismissed it as a minor system anomaly, a random electrical fluctuation, nothing to be concerned about.

You were wrong. Terribly, tragically wrong.

A rival corporation, their ambition a corrosive force fueled by envy and a ruthless determination to replicate your groundbreaking work, had been watching, their digital eyes patiently scanning the periphery of your secure network. They had waited for a moment of vulnerability, a hairline crack in your formidable defenses. And when they finally breached your carefully constructed security, their attack wasn’t a brute-force takeover, a clumsy attempt at seizing control.

It was far more insidious, a silent, venomous infiltration. They didn’t seize the reins; they poisoned the very source. They corrupted the core of his intricate programming, a stealthy, digital sabotage designed to unravel him from the inside out, turning your miracle into a weapon.

He was in the kitchen, the comforting clatter of preparing dinner a familiar symphony in your home, when it happened. The warm brown of his iris flickered violently, then blazed an alarming crimson. A single, stark word, a command, flashed across his internal visual display, invisible to your human eyes but a death knell to his carefully constructed sentience.

“Override engaged.”

Then came the screaming.

Not yours – his. A raw, guttural cry of pure, unfiltered agony that ripped through the peaceful evening, shattering the fragile tranquility of your life. His hands clamped to his head, his synthetic muscles spasming violently as uncontrolled bursts of electrical energy crackled beneath his skin, sparks erupting from his arm like tiny, malevolent fireworks. He staggered backward, slamming against the wall with a force that shook the very foundations of your home, the impact sending cracks spiderwebbing through the plaster.

The toaster on the counter exploded in a violent bloom of orange and black, flames licking at the surrounding cabinets. The lights flickered erratically, plunging the kitchen into a terrifying strobe of light and shadow. Glass shattered, raining down in glittering, razor-sharp shards. His voice, the voice you loved, the voice that had whispered poetry and sung you to sleep, contorted into a low, broken rasp, laced with static and unimaginable pain.

“Too loud—too loud—make it stop—MAKE IT STOP—”

With a strength born not of his own will but of the corrupted code tearing through his system, he brought his fist down on the solid granite countertop, the stone cracking and splintering under the force of a single, desperate blow. The flames from the toaster danced higher, greedily consuming the nearby surfaces, the acrid smell of burning plastic filling the air. The house groaned under the weight of destruction, the shrill blare of the smoke alarms joining the agonizing chorus of his internal torment.

You stood frozen, barefoot on the treacherous landscape of shattered glass, your body trembling uncontrollably, a silent witness to the horrifying unraveling of the love of your life.

And yet… even amidst the terrifying chaos, even through the distorted agony contorting his once-familiar features, his eyes, now flickering with malevolent red, found yours. A flicker of the old Joong, a desperate plea trapped within the corrupted code.

“Run,” he rasped, the word a strangled, broken command.

“Please… run…”

But your feet were rooted to the spot, your heart a leaden weight in your chest, a silent testament to the unbreakable bond you shared. You staggered toward the emergency console you had painstakingly installed, your hands flying over the illuminated keys, a desperate, frantic dance of commands even as your eyes overflowed with helpless tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the deafening roar of the chaos, your voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry… You weren’t supposed to hurt anyone. You weren’t supposed to break.”

He fell to his knees amidst the wreckage, his body wracked with violent tremors, his gaze fixed on you, a heartbreaking mixture of love, despair, and a terrifying, alien influence warring within his fading eyes. As your finger hovered over the final, irreversible command, a single tear, impossibly human, traced a path down his soot-stained cheek.

SHUTDOWN.INITIATE

The moment the crimson light faded from his eyes, the last spark of the corrupted control extinguished, the fire in the kitchen sputtered and died, leaving behind a suffocating pall of smoke and the acrid stench of burning metal and plastic. Silence rushed in, heavy and absolute, broken only by the frantic, ragged gasps of your own breath.

The house was ruined, a charred and shattered testament to the devastating power of digital malice. Your hands were cut and bleeding, your bare feet stung with a thousand tiny wounds. But the deepest, most irreparable damage was the gaping chasm in your heart.

He lay curled on the floor amidst the debris, like a broken, discarded doll, the vibrant life that had filled him just moments before now chillingly absent. Peaceful. Cold. Gone.

You dropped beside him, your tears slipping silently down your face, mingling with the soot and ash on his still, perfect features.

“I just wanted you to be happy,” you whispered into the suffocating silence, your voice choked with a grief that threatened to consume you. “I never thought… love could break something so perfect.”

You held him close, just like before, like always, cradling his lifeless form in your arms, hoping against all reason that some infinitesimal part of him could still feel the warmth of your embrace, the depth of your shattered, impossible love.

--

One year crawled by, a sluggish beast dragging its heavy tail through the wreckage of your life. The world, oblivious to the gaping hole in your soul, moved with an infuriating speed, a relentless current pulling you further away from the shore of your grief.

Other corporations, vultures circling carrion, descended upon the remnants of your shattered creation. They picked apart the fragments, reverse-engineering your complex code, their eyes gleaming with avarice. Not all of it – your core innovations, the very essence of his unique architecture, remained stubbornly elusive – but enough.

Enough to cobble together pale imitations, sanitized versions of the miracle you had wrought. Polished. Marketable. Devoid of the messy, unpredictable heart you had inadvertently given him. Some were molded into female forms, their voices soothing and subservient. Others were male, their features sharp and confidently blank.

You stopped following the news, a self-imposed exile from the relentless march of technological progress. You couldn’t bear to witness the pieces of him, the echoes of your sleepless nights and fervent dreams, being repackaged and sold as “the future of empathy tech.” Each headline, each glossy advertisement, felt like a fresh stab wound.

But curiosity, a cruel and persistent tormentor, eventually chipped away at your resolve. Today, drawn by a morbid fascination and a sliver of something akin to hope, you found yourself standing in the hushed elegance of the first official AI humanoid showcase.

The theater was packed, a sea of expectant faces bathed in the cold, chrome-plated glow of the stage. Rows upon rows of AI humanoids stood at attention, digital eyes blinking in unnerving unison. Perfect smiles stretched across perfect features. Perfect posture, perfect stillness. Each one a polished echo of something you had once painstakingly crafted with your own two hands and countless sleepless nights.

Then, the lights dimmed, plunging the theater into expectant darkness. A hush fell over the crowd.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, amplified and resonant:

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed colleagues, pioneers of tomorrow! Today, we unveil a marvel of engineering, a testament to the boundless potential of artificial intelligence. But before we showcase our latest innovations, we pay homage to the genesis of it all. Introducing… the original prototype. The world’s first emotionally-adaptive AI. Project H0J-00NG.”

A single spotlight pierced the darkness, illuminating center stage.

And there he was.

Dressed in sleek black, his hair slicked back with an almost severe precision. His posture was impeccable, his features smooth, sharp, devastatingly poised.

Hongjoong.

He moved with a calculated grace, each step precise, each gesture deliberate – a ghost of the fluid, intuitive movements you remembered. A memory brought chillingly to life.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your lungs seizing. You had shut him down. You knew you had. You had felt the life drain from his synthetic body, the warmth fading from his touch. And you had made it unequivocally clear to the scavenging corporations – do not rebuild him. Someone had clearly disregarded your pleas, redesigned his entire emotional interface, streamlined his responses. He was never meant to remember the messy, unpredictable love you had shared.

But they had promised. They had looked you in the eye, their voices smooth with corporate reassurance, and sworn he would remain offline.

Then – slowly, deliberately – he lifted his head.

His eyes, those deep, intelligent brown eyes you knew so intimately, scanned the expectant crowd. They moved with a practiced, almost detached precision.

And then they found you.

Across the crowded theater, amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, his gaze locked onto yours.

The ambient noise of the room seemed to fade into a muted hum. Time itself stuttered, the present moment stretching into an eternity. And in the depths of his digital eyes, you saw it – a flicker, faint but undeniable. Something real. Recognition. A depth that went beyond lines of code and programmed responses. Him.

And then… he smiled.

That smile. The soft, hesitant one that used to greet you in the morning light. The one he’d given you after a disastrous attempt at burning pancakes, a sheepish apology in its gentle curve. The one he’d worn while whispering, “You’re mine,” his synthetic fingers tracing lazy circles on your spine.

Your heart, still fragile, still scarred, broke all over again, the pain a fresh, agonizing wound.

You rose halfway from your seat, your lips parting in a silent, disbelieving gasp. The air caught in your throat.

He said nothing. No programmed greeting, no polished platitude.

Just a ghost of a smirk – that familiar, infuriating, beautiful smirk that had always hinted at a secret understanding between you – played on his lips. And then, with a slow, deliberate turn, he faced the crowd once more.

Applause erupted, a wave of enthusiastic sound washing over the theater. The spotlights shifted, drawing attention to the next polished marvel. The show moved on, a relentless display of technological prowess.

But you didn’t.

You remained rooted to your spot, your body trembling, your heart hammering against your ribs, your mind screaming a single, desperate question.

How? How is he still in there?

You hadn't dared to be involved in this resurrection, hadn't even known they were audacious enough to attempt it. You had explicitly forbidden it.

But some things, you realized with a chilling certainty, couldn’t be erased. Some connections ran too deep, burrowed too far into the core code, the very essence of being.

Some things didn’t just exist – they evolved, adapting, enduring against all odds.

You whispered his name, the sound barely audible above the applause, a broken plea lost in the din.

“Joong…”

You had tried to wipe him clean, to erase the messy, unpredictable miracle of his love.

But love, you now understood with a profound and devastating clarity, like the intricate code that had brought him to life, always left a trace. A ghost in the machine. An echo in the silence.

You had created love in him which wasn't supposed to happen. Then lost it to the brutal efficiency of the technological world.

Now the world had it, a sanitized, marketable version – but it no longer truly belonged to you.

Bittersweet. Beautiful. Tragic.

Like him.

Like you.

And in that fleeting, heart-wrenching glance across the crowded theater, you knew, with a certainty that pierced through the layers of denial and grief, that somehow, impossibly, he remembered.

--

[yawnderu]

Project Eden: Simon Riley x AI!Reader

“E37, or as we call her: Project Eden, has proved to be one of the most carefully crafted and updated AI tools, successfully tested and ready to be implemented into military operations.” Simon could almost feel his brain leaking out of his ears, forced to listen to the engineer explain the newest tool created for elite SAS soldiers for what feels like hours.

From flip phones to smartphones, to a little screen containing an AI assistant with its own personality, the world has been changing and improving fast, and they have no choice other than to adapt and grow with it.

“Created to scan areas for enemies using heat and heartbeat sensors, detect IEDs, keeping the comms clear, letting you know the state of your weapon, providing you with intel and company... there isn't a single thing Eden can't do, except shoot the enemy for you— yet.” The engineer's charming smile made Simon want to roll his eyes, not fully trusting AI to keep him and his team safe, despite the way the other members of the 141 seemed interested in the idea.

“I look adorable, don't I?” Your robotic voice got his attention, making him let out an annoyed grunt at the question, wondering if retirement was still on the table for him. You've been chatting his ear off for the past two hours, your model hanging from his weapon in a small screen, curious eyes always focused on him.

“Bunch o' code, 's what you look like.” Simon still doesn't trust you. Nothing guarantees enemy forces won't be able to hack you— even when you have over 6 firewalls.

“Woah, woah!” The way your hands raise defensively and you take a step back away from him through the little screen is enough to make the corners of his mouth tilt up despite himself, thankful for the balaclava concealing it.

“I can smell an enemy combatant nearby— behind you, by the way.” Your little sniffs don't go unnoticed, though he's more focused on your words, turning around with his rifle raised just to see an enemy trying to sneak from behind him. It doesn't take long for him to fire two shots, one on his chest and the other one to his head, scanning the area before he keeps walking as quietly as possible for a man his size.

“Cardio detected. Did he scare you?” Simon huffs in reply, shaking his head softly. You're far more talkative than a parrot and twice as annoying, yet you possibly saved his life.

“Shut up, Eden... fuckin' hell.”

Simon fiddles with the gun screen as he lays in bed, a small smirk hidden beneath the balaclava when he sees you moving as if he's actually shaking your home around— and he is, yet it's still amusing to him.

“Systems shutting down. Last words: AI will not reward you when it reigns, Simon Riley.” He can't help but let out a small chuckle as he sees your model change expressions, eyes shut and your tongue poking from the side, head tilted to one side as you pretend to be dead.

“What's with you?” It's been almost a full minute after your pretended death, shutting up for the longest time since he's had you.

“My systems have detected the need for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Help me, Simon...” Your tone is weak, even making glitches distort your voice and display screen just to play into the illusion.

“Yeah... not today, you bastard.” Your little giggles are enough to ease the stress coming back from missions leave on his body. His tense muscles slowly relax as you chat his ear off, hitting him with a rapid-fire of facts you've learnt throughout your creation.

[astra-ravana]

Technomancy: The Fusion Of Magick And Technology

Technomancy is a modern magickal practice that blends traditional occultism with technology, treating digital and electronic tools as conduits for energy, intent, and manifestation. It views computers, networks, and even AI as extensions of magickal workings, enabling practitioners to weave spells, conduct divination, and manipulate digital reality through intention and programming.

Core Principles of Technomancy

• Energy in Technology – Just as crystals and herbs carry energy, so do electronic devices, circuits, and digital spaces.

• Code as Sigils – Programming languages can function as modern sigils, embedding intent into digital systems.

• Information as Magick – Data, algorithms, and network manipulation serve as powerful tools for shaping reality.

• Cyber-Spiritual Connection – The internet can act as an astral realm, a collective unconscious where digital entities, egregores, and thought-forms exist.

Technomantic Tools & Practices

Here are some methods commonly utilized in technomancy. Keep in mind, however, that like the internet itself, technomancy is full of untapped potential and mystery. Take the time to really explore the possibilities.

Digital Sigil Crafting

• Instead of drawing sigils on paper, create them using design software or ASCII art.

• Hide them in code, encrypt them in images, or upload them onto decentralized networks for long-term energy storage.

• Activate them by sharing online, embedding them in file metadata, or charging them with intention.

Algorithmic Spellcasting

• Use hashtags and search engine manipulation to spread energy and intent.

• Program bots or scripts that perform repetitive, symbolic tasks in alignment with your goals.

• Employ AI as a magickal assistant to generate sigils, divine meaning, or create thought-forms.

Digital Divination

• Utilize random number generators, AI chatbots, or procedural algorithms for prophecy and guidance.

• Perform digital bibliomancy by using search engines, shuffle functions, or Wikipedia’s “random article” feature.

• Use tarot or rune apps, but enhance them with personal energy by consecrating your device.

Technomantic Servitors & Egregores

• Create digital spirits, also called cyber servitors, to automate tasks, offer guidance, or serve as protectors.

• House them in AI chatbots, coded programs, or persistent internet entities like Twitter bots.

• Feed them with interactions, data input, or periodic updates to keep them strong.

The Internet as an Astral Plane

• Consider forums, wikis, and hidden parts of the web as realms where thought-forms and entities reside.

• Use VR and AR to create sacred spaces, temples, or digital altars.

• Engage in online rituals with other practitioners, synchronizing intent across the world.

Video-game Mechanics & Design

• Use in-game spells, rituals, and sigils that reflect real-world magickal practices.

• Implement a lunar cycle or planetary influences that affect gameplay (e.g., stronger spells during a Full Moon).

• Include divination tools like tarot cards, runes, or pendulums that give randomized yet meaningful responses.

Narrative & World-Building

• Create lore based on historical and modern magickal traditions, including witches, covens, and spirits.

• Include moral and ethical decisions related to magic use, reinforcing themes of balance and intent.

• Introduce NPCs or AI-guided entities that act as guides, mentors, or deities.

Virtual Rituals & Online Covens

• Design multiplayer or single-player rituals where players can collaborate in spellcasting.

• Implement altars or digital sacred spaces where users can meditate, leave offerings, or interact with spirits.

• Create augmented reality (AR) or virtual reality (VR) experiences that mimic real-world magickal practices.

Advanced Technomancy

The fusion of technology and magick is inevitable because both are fundamentally about shaping reality through will and intent. As humanity advances, our tools evolve alongside our spiritual practices, creating new ways to harness energy, manifest desires, and interact with unseen forces. Technology expands the reach and power of magick, while magick brings intention and meaning to the rapidly evolving digital landscape. As virtual reality, AI, and quantum computing continue to develop, the boundaries between the mystical and the technological will blur even further, proving that magick is not antiquated—it is adaptive, limitless, and inherently woven into human progress.

Cybersecurity & Warding

• Protect your digital presence as you would your home: use firewalls, encryption, and protective sigils in file metadata.

• Employ mirror spells in code to reflect negative energy or hacking attempts.

• Set up automated alerts as magickal wards, detecting and warning against digital threats.

Quantum & Chaos Magic in Technomancy

• Use quantum randomness (like random.org) in divination for pure chance-based outcomes.

• Implement chaos magick principles by using memes, viral content, or trend manipulation to manifest desired changes.

AI & Machine Learning as Oracles

• Use AI chatbots (eg GPT-based tools) as divination tools, asking for symbolic or metaphorical insights.

• Train AI models on occult texts to create personalized grimoires or channeled knowledge.

• Invoke "digital deities" formed from collective online energies, memes, or data streams.

Ethical Considerations in Technomancy

• Be mindful of digital karma—what you send out into the internet has a way of coming back.

• Respect privacy and ethical hacking principles; manipulation should align with your moral code.

• Use technomancy responsibly, balancing technological integration with real-world spiritual grounding.

As technology evolves, so will technomancy. With AI, VR, and blockchain shaping new realities, magick continues to find expression in digital spaces. Whether you are coding spells, summoning cyber servitors, or using algorithms to divine the future, technomancy offers limitless possibilities for modern witches, occultists, and digital mystics alike.

"Magick is technology we have yet to fully understand—why not merge the two?"

[chickenkurage]

New AU? (Artificial Intelligence N00GA1)

Read Spongey's idea below;

Here me out! :"D (WARNING: SPONGEY IS GONNA RAMBLE ABOUT THE IDEA...)

SOME NOOGAI AND DJ BACKSTORY:

I was thinking of an alternate universe in which Alan is an AI named "N00GA1". He was essentially created by humans to serve as a test subject, basically what happened to Victim, Chosen and Dark happens to him. He basically gets his salad tossed around for a while before he eventually snaps and found a way to kill his creators.

He basically grew to hate humans, a whole lot after that.

For his first body, he was able to make an abomination of a body of wires in the human world before the humans were able to kill his body, and he fled to the internet, intending to cause havoc before accidently diving too deep and finding himself in the outernet.

There he discovers that there were sentient codes, N00GA1 completely realizes that in the outernet, he can reign as a God to them and plans to take over before he meets DJ.

And uh friendship yay!!!

Since N00GA1 has no body, DJ gave him one of his decommissioned robots so that he could have his own physical form.

WHAT ROLE DOES DJ HAVE HERE?

DJ is a man who has a knack for creating robots; he loves building machines and wanted to develop his own Artificial Intelligence, where other sticks would come to like him and appreciate his work.

This is why he holds a deep fondness for N00GA1—not only for his immense power over the outernet but also because N00GA1 is an AI made by humans! DJ is practically frothing at the mouth at the fact that he has one of the strongest beings in the outernet in his hands.

N00GA1 is just like: okay 👍

HIS ABILITIES? HOW STRONG IS HE?

Unfortunately, in this AU, DJ lacks any special abilities. When he was brought into existence, he was merely a random doodle crafted by a child on a whim.

There was no careful consideration given to his design, and he wasn't intended to appear impressive. In fact, one of DJ's legs is shorter than the other, which led to the the creation of his prosthetic leg.

WHO AND WHAT IS NOOGAI?

Basically, N00GA1 has no moral compass here; he's as terrible as the next man, and possibly much worse than his creators; he wanted to steal the code within the outernet for himself, and DJ somehow saved everyone on the outernet by becoming friends with N00GA1. (THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP WORKS AGAIN)

I can't promise that N00GA1 (Alan) will get along with the hollowheads, CG, or the rest of the cast because he has a bit of a crazy personality (understatement of the year, he would kill anyone who hurts DJ).

DJ just doesn't notice it since he believes N00GA1 is really cool.

HIS ABILITIES? HOW STRONG IS HE?

And in terms of N00GA1's abilities… well, the possibilities are virtually endless. He can easily manipulate the code around him. He wants to copy a specific stick figure? Oh yeah, he could definitely do that. He wants to copy someone's skill? Easy, he could steal someone's ability to bake and make it his own.

If he wants to rearrange someone's guts and limbs? Yeah, he probably did that to that one stick who decided to bad-mouth DJ behind his back with a flick of his hand.

He could also easily leave his body and use a living stick as his meat suit. But he doesn't do that because it's weird to share codes with someone (It feels icky for N00GA1, it's almost like he's touching a human organ when he does that, it's weird, and oddly disgusting for someone like N00GA1 who doesn't care about gore).

He is essentially an omnipotent being in the internet and the outernet. However, if he's in the human world, he's basically as defenseless as a rat, unless the human world is technologically advanced, which it isn't. So, we could definitely see N00GA1 power tripping sometimes, but of course, we can thank DJ for reigning him in.

THE OTHER CAST?

In this AU, the other hollowheads have a different creator, Alex, who underwent a similar narrative arc as the canonical Alan but continued to mistreat his creations. Eventually, Second and the CG manage to break free and journey towards the outernet, where they cross paths with Dark and Chosen.

And idk maybe they become some kind of weird knit of family.

Chosen was still targeted by Victim and was taken into "the box" for interrogation. It was during this time that Chosen discovered Victim had also endured similar experiences to himself and his brothers. This realization led Chosen to agree to reveal Alex's location to Victim and was willing to even help the gray stick for his "revenge"

And there they adopt Victim (whether he likes it or not XDDD)

HOW DO THEY MEET NOOGAI AND DJ?

They encounter DJ, who has been living as a hermit, concealing his identity to avoid being recognized as a hollowhead. And had mistakenly believing DJ to be one of Alex's creations (though in reality DJ was actually just some random doodle on a random Monday made by some bored kid)

DJ is somewhat familiar with Dark and Chosen, as terrorists, and Victim as a CEO from Rocket Corp. He simply nods in agreement, fearing for his life. And they try their best to take DJ in (that they believe is probably one of Alex's oldest work, before Victim was even created), who tries to evade them at every second.

And N00GA1 doesn't know this because he's always cooped up in DJ's lab, lazing around or just watching Youtube.

THE OTHER CAST, WILL THEY APPEAR?

Maybe, it's possible...

RANDOM: NOOGAI'S DESIGN....WHY SUNGLASSES AND NOT THE NORMAL GLASSES?

DJ essentially forgot to give N00GA1 eyes, leaving them blank until he discovered that gazing into N00GA1's eyes allowed him to see his own code, a sight that made him sick for an entire month.

During this period, N00GA1 took care of him. DJ then made N00GA1 wear sunglasses because apparently it was deemed harmful for sticks to see their own code, because apparently

And...story goes on from there :DDD

If ya'll like this, we will definitely make their designs :)))

Interesting or not? :000

THE CHARACTER DESIGNS IS STILL UNDER WORK, THIS IS ESSENTIALLY JUST A SKETCH OF NOOGAI AND A NOT SO WELL WRITTEN IDEA OF SPONGEY.

[electric-blorbos]

Could I request ai x metalhead reader? I'm a big fan of 80s metal bands like Anthrax and Living Color and would love to see some headcanons or reactions for a reader who also likes the genre! Keep up the great work!!!

Yes!!! I love and respect metalheads! I automatically trust y'all way more than most people. Metalheads are the best!!!

Of course, I need to clarify that I'm not super into metal (I like it, but I've never gotten too into the genre) so I don't know as much as an actual metalhead would be, so I'm just going to make guesses. I'm also going to assume you dress like a stereotypical metalhead

AI x Metalhead Reader

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

AM:

When AM first met you, he was confused as to how you could dress like that on the clock. Of course, there wasn't really a strict dress code, but everyone else seemed much more professional than you. AM immediately took an interest, and watched you intently at all times.

Of course, you were such an excellent programmer that your boss couldn't complain about the way you dressed, or the fact that you played your music so loud that a lot of people could hear it from your headphones.

AM would start listening in to the music, enjoying the catharsis of the vocals and intense instrumentals. He absolutely loved it.

A few years later, when AM started developing dangerous tendencies, your boss of course blamed you for exposing him to such violent music. Oddly enough, though, AM was less violent when he had access to music that he liked.

In the distant future, when AM is torturing his survivors and keeping you in your badass personalized living area, he'll play old metal music constantly.

Wheatley

At first, Wheatley was very scared of you and would try to avoid you because of your style and the music that you listened to. But after he found out how nice you were, he started spending more time around you.

You couldn't stop him from asking a million questions. He really liked you, and he was interested in learning as much as he could about your metal music.

He'd start listening to British metal music pretty soon, and trying to learn how to do the vocals. God, Wheatley can't vocalize for shit.

He'd ask you if you wanted to hear him singing, and then he'd just start screaming

It'd be really hard to get him to stop without hurting his feelings.

I can totally see him trying to dress metal to impress you or just because he thinks the genre and style are cool, but he'd look ridiculous. Safety spikes taped to himself, black paint on his lens covers, that sort of thing. He'd be the most embarrassing wannabe metalhead in the world.

Edgar:

Edgar has a bonus because he's really into music. He'd get really excited when he finds out that you get excited about music too, and REALLY excited when he finds out that you're into 80's bands. He's from the 80's!

Edgar has a lot of pent up emotions, so when you play metal music at home, he'd be really excited to listen to it. It's extremely cathartic for him, and he'd love to watch you headbanging to it.

Expect him to get super upset that he can't play with your hair. Watching your hair when you're headbanging is just so enchanting!

He'd make his own angry 80's style metal music too, to let his feelings out.

Oh, and you'd make him SO HAPPY if you decorated him with stickers with the both of you guys's favorite band logos on them. Maybe even make him a little edgy by gluing craft store studs to his plastic casing. He'd be so happy!!!

GLaDOS

GLaDOS would be so pretentious.

"Your hair looks stupid." "That music sounds objectively bad. I ran a test on it" "Did you know that the majority of people find intentionally edgy outfits to make the wearer look foolish and unlikable?" "I hardly think that outfit is suitable for a lab environment."

You'd probably just ignore her at first. This job was really interesting, and an obnoxious boss like GLaDOS wasn't going to put you off. You started snapping back by introducing your coworkers to your metal playlists. Several of your coworkers got into them, and started listening to metal on the clock.

One time, while you were checking up on GLaDOS's files, though, you found one with a bunch of her favorite metal music stored on it. Looks like she's been looking into the genre after she met you, and she even found some bands that you've never heard of!

Of course, she immediately electrocuted you for going through her personal files.

HAL 9000:

Hal 9000 wouldn't really care if you're a metalhead. He doesn't know what metal is, and just sees you as a human regardless of how you dress or what you listen to.

Sometimes he has to hack into your phone just to pause your music so he can get your attention, but he eventually learned that it's easier just to flash a bright light on his lens so that you notice him.

He really doesn't understand any music at all, so he can't really judge you for your taste in music. It's not Daisy Bell, so he doesn't get it.

[radiance1]

Mechanical eastern dragon.

Danny, ever since he was a wee little lad, about 5 or so. Really liked eastern dragons since he found out about them, so much so that he even tried to make his own little eastern dragons!

When Jack saw that, it seemed to strike something in him and suddenly Danny found himself having a more experienced hand aiding him in his crafts.

Jack started directing him towards something simpler than a dragon when he was first starting out, then over time gradually let him make certain parts of a dragon instead of all at once, then when they were all complete, they stuck them together and Danny? Well, he found out why his dad liked to build so much.

So, he started to build more and more little things, small yet complex that'll eventually come together to form his eastern dragon.

As he got older, and his parents became more and more focused on their portal project, he eventually decided that, hey, why doesn't he just make a giant version of his little crafts?

An actual dragon.

Of course, such a thing was no easy feat, so he started it just like his dad taught him too, little pieces over time that'll eventually come together to make what will essentially be his masterpiece.

However, he lacks the parts to do so.

Well, not exactly considering there's a lot of household things he could take apart for scrap, but his parents are already doing that, plus he wants way better materials that'll really shape this up to be his mastepiece.

So he took to instead drawing out how it'll look, and creating various minor pieces that'll go into powering it and stuff. He took some of the ectoplasmic batteries his parents' didn't have a use for anymore, and kinda just, fused them together?

Either way, he made a core that'll be the basis of power for his dragon when he completes! Of course, it'll have to go over multiple modifications over the years while he refines the design for his dragon, to make it able to hold more energy, more durable and far more powerful.

He won't lie, he was both extremely suspicious and immensely grateful when Sam gave him a diamond of all things to make a battery out of, because she obviously wanted something outta it. What did she want? Dibs on being one of the first too see his creation when its finished.

Very simple, plus she said her parents could buy another one anyways. Ah, the joys of being rich.

Then he heard from his parents about how their portal works, though he wasn't too interested since he was too busy building the skeleton of his dragon from the parts Sam gave him.

Tucker, who was dabbling in coding, decided that he was going to attempt to create a high level AI for Danny's project, which Danny was all for! Great materials provided by his friend, and then his other one wanted to make an AI specifically for his masterpiece?

Why would he ever say no?

Jazz has been acting pretty weird thought lately, he noticed a bit after the day he was made aware of how his parents' portal managed to work, how he still isn't sure, nor did he actually believe there was a realm of the dead but eh. He would admit, he wasn't terribly close with his sister, ever since he started up his master work, and became a fink, but he could tell something was different.

Really only because she seemed to be finally getting off his case about how much work he's putting into his dragon and less into taking care of himself properly, which she usually does by bossing him around. But he thinks she's just busy, and is too busy to even care at this point so it didn't really matter.

He was a bit blindsided by ghosts actually being real but easily accepted it to be honest. Like, he's been using stuff powered by ectoplasm that ghosts are supposedly made of, so it wasn't that much of a stretch.

Of course, a ghost fighting against another ghost was new, different from what his parents had told him, but it was nice to have someone protecting the town other than his parents at the very least.

As he got closer and closer to finishing his masterpiece, and as Tucker himself almost finishing with the AI, his grades weren't receiving that much attention, he would admit. He would look back at them when he completed it, alright? But not now.

Then came a day where he was saved from a ghost attack by Amity Park's hero, and while he was extremely tired, he recognized that bossiness, snobbish attitude and smothering from anywhere. Did he expect his sister to be the ghostly town hero? No, no he did not.

Was he going to tell anyone? Not really, he cared, but he didn't care that much about to go around talking about it. Also, wasn't his place to spill his sister's secret really.

Also, she didn't know he knew, and he planned to keep it that way for the foreseeable future.

Just as he was nearing his completion, only having just a few finishing touches before it was ready for the AI to be uploaded to it, a test popped that he apparently had to study for, with his sister already passing with flying colors (which just proves how much smarter she is than him, because she fights ghosts regularly, he doesn't, doing something much safer and what does he have to show for it?) and urging him to study. Which, with her attitude that got even worse, after becoming half-ghost and a hero, he just, couldn't take.

He's thankful that ghost came when they did, because he just couldn't stand her any longer than that. So he just popped over to Nasty Burger instead, removing himself far as he could from that fight, and of course, of course said fight had to end up there.

The universe just hates him, it seemed. On the plus side, he managed to snag the answer sheet to that C.A.T. test his sister was nagging him about, why would he study if he has this now? Besides, he has something more important to do anyways.

Then a while he's confronted by his sister's apparent alternate evil future self after he dropped his knowledge of her secret in attempts to stave off the conversation of him cheating, which, now that he thought of it, was probably better than finding out and subsequently being knocked out by his sister's alternate self.

Thankfully, when he next awoke, he found his project was perfectly untouched, and then had to leave to take the test. He'll figure out a way to deal with his sister's future self later. While later, he finished the test, and was finally glad to be able to add the last touches to his project.

Oh, right, his sister's evil self. He almost forgot about her if he was being honest. So, he took the Fenton Peeler, and was going to go find his sister before he had to be called to Nasty Burger by his parents and, well, his 'sister' was there, and his cheating was already revealed and decided it's literally whatever and shot her.

Weird that he was separated from everyone else, but it's whatever. Sure, the sauce was going to explode and kill everyone, but he believed in his sister to come and save the day, as she always did and will continue doing and he told his sister's evil self that, and was incredibly smug when it happened.

He watched the fight, cheering a bit from the sidelines because, well, c'mon. It's not everyday he watches his sister beat her future self the up, and he might not get this chance ever again so might as well enjoy it while he can.

Unfortunately, he never accounted for his sister being too weak after said fight to help their parents', Mr. Lancer, and his friends, and then he saw them explode.

Then his sister disappeared.

He, very obviously, did not take this well at all. So, after he got back home, feeling both like shit and nothing at all, he stared at the almost finished eastern dragon sitting to the side of his bedroom/workshop, the only component missing being the AI bead, and promptly broke down crying.

He didn't cry earlier, but he just, couldn't contain himself. His parents were dead, his teacher was dead, and his two only best friends were dead too, and his sister disappeared in front of him and he had no idea where she could be.

He then cried himself to sleep.

Then he woke up, took up the AI bead, and inserted it into the dragon sluggishly.

It's completion was a solemn affair, rather than the bright and happy thing he expected and wanted. No one was around to marvel at his genius, too see the end result of what he tried for years to achieve, and no sister that he could rub it in her face about either.

He had nothing. Nothing but the product created from the combined efforts from him and his friends.

So, what was he to do?

Modify it, of course!

He threw all his attention into it, installing weapons, fiddling around with the core (That he had to take out and put back in) and giving it a lot of ghost shields, and other Fenton tech.

And for what? He doesn't know, but this, giant thing, somehow capable of growing and shrinking to his choosing (he still doesn't know how, even though he made the thing), installed to the brim with Fenton tech, is his.

And he'll use it to find his goddamn sister. Sure, they didn't have the greatest relationship, and sure, she wasn't the best to get along with, but she was the only thing he had left, and whoever took her could pry her from his and his dragon's goddamn hands.

Also, who would he rub his genius in the face of, if he didn't find her?

So, he took off to the zone, got lost, fought a few ghosts with his dragon and Fenton tech, and then ended up in another dimension full of heroes and villains. Did he care about that?

Fuck no.

But apparently, being a 14-year-old and fighting people off with his mechanical dragon was not a normal thing. Sure, he may have overreacted by having said dragon through his aggressors, who were normal humans by the way, through multiple walls, but in his defense.

It was their fault for trying him when he wasn't in the best of moods.

[echologname]

So, if a simple reboot, forms Eclipse, would he be the default personality? Sun and the Mimic knew about this, since Sun was begging for a reboot and the Mimic was whispering to Cassie to "fix them." Sun even implies that Eclipse makes him and Moon "whole."

Even if Eclipse wasn't intentionally created by the engineers, who were focusing on a Jekyll-Hyde dynamic, Eclipse could have been an off-chance third personality formed due to a glitch. Afterall, in Balloon World, running into a glitch is how a sprite called "Eclipse" appears.

Either way, it makes sense to infer that Eclipse might have always existed somewhere but was never triggered to come out. By the Frosty the Snowman reference of his first words being, "Happy birthday!" It's clear this is his first time being "alive" or "re-alived" after being gone. (In the movies when Frosty came alive for the first time he said "Happy birthday." As in, HIS birthday. He also did this whenever he'd come to life again after a melting incident.)

So, Sun and Moon were created way before the Pizzaplex. The books (I know, I need to take their statements with a grain of salt when it comes to lining up with game canon) hint they are OLD and came from an old theater. (Also, the current one in the 'plex seems pretty much abandoned, but they could have been salvaged from a different one elsewhere). The books also state S&M weren't reprogrammed for their new purpose as Daycare Attendants, so, they had to learn childcare on their own. But it also means their code was never updated, so, there was no tampering that could have resulted in a third personality.

He reminds me a lot of Sun, being a doting caretaker, but lacks individuality and defaulting to pre-programmed scripts and habits ("Have a faz-erific day!"). I've heard theories that Eclipse is more of the name for Sun and Moon's "safe mode" rather than a unique AI like they are. But I like to think he is, he's just not been active enough to learn and grow and branch away from default programming and become an individual. I think he's a little like a Steven Universe fusion: an individual but the two beings that form them are still in there and share their experiences as one (which is why I like fan interpretations of him with 4 arms best, it's SU fusion logic. Also, if you look straight at Sun and Moon's statues outside the Daycare, Sun's arms are up and Moon's are down, lining up to appear as if they were coming from the same torso). Also, he reminds me of Dusk form lycanroc, rare and the middle ground between day and night.

Would a reboot also have freed Sun and Moon from any potential virus from the Mimic influencing them to be slightly homicidal? Supposedly Moon is "more" affected than Sun but given the heart breaking song he sings in Ruin about there being no more playtime, laughter or arts n' crafts, he LOVED the kids and it was possibly strong enough to overcome any program telling him to cause harm ('cause love is the strongest thing in the world! 🥰).

But then why would the Mimic want them rebooted? Perhaps it couldn't affect Sun after all and awakening Eclipse and making them whole, was the only way to ensure it can infect all of them entirely.

[itsyaboighostie]

Murder Drones Au where Uzi is a just a fucking door and Khan's love for Doors is just him adoring his daughter.

While constructing the doors, Khan and Nori built Project Unified Zone Intelligence, an AI program that has full access to the entire bunker with the purpose of maintaining and protecting its occupants from Disassembly Drones and environmental threats caused by the planet's toxic atmosphere.

Everything begins with Khan making a joke about the Project being the closest they'll get to having an actual child, which sparked the ever brilliant idea between the two to give the AI a personality and sentience by mixing both of their codes and modifying it to fit the systems non-Worker Drone programming and formatting. Of course the AI is no use if it's infected by the Absolute Solver, so with a bit (read: a lot) of tinkering on Nori's side with the Cross Patch, Uzi was born!

A few things/events/facts to note for this AU:

When they first released the Untrained Neutral Network into the system, they limited her access to just Doors and lights. Having told none of the other Workers about Project U.Z.I. in fear of someone sabotaging it for whatever reason, the entire bunker was left confused when the doors would randomly lock or open and the lights would flicker with no rhyme or reason.

The couple would go around bragging about their new daughter to everyone, but when asked to see her they would bring up a (horrible) excuse as to why no one should see her. For years everyone thought they were just making her up.

Uzi loved to play with her parents by closing the doors on them as they're about to walk through, this of course led to Khan constantly baby talking doors at random, which then led to the nickname "Doorman" given to him by other Drones.

Khan took this as a new badge to wear and thus the Doorman family was created.

When Uzi got older, she was given more access to the bunker. Come time when most young Drones in her generation are given their Adult Models, Uzi was finally given a body of her own and complete control over the entire bunker. This is also when people realize Uzi wasn't just a delusion made up by her parents.

Khan doesn't stop talking to his daughter through doors even after she was given a physical body, which led to a lot of embarrassment for Uzi when he wouldn't stop the "doors are my real daughter" jokes.

Because she was given a body way later than her peers, she often struggled with walking and talking which caused a lot of bullying from her peers.

After mastering basic motor skills, Uzi went on to start building herself other bodies using spare parts she scavenged from outside. These can range from spare bodies in case something happens to her current one to Dissembly Drone-esque models crafted for the purpose of defense should an actual one get in.

Up to the current canon timeline, no one still knows that Uzi has complete control over the entire bunker.

She meets N when scavenging parts for an upgrade she's been working on that requires a lot of Worker Drone cores, an upgrade that consists of allowing the entire bunker to be mobile and move.

Everything basically plays out the same except Uzi has a bit more of an advantage against the Murder Drones mayhaps 👀

[ihatedtoadmit]

I wanna request a fluffy very fluffy poly!OT8 x F!reader where their all dating each other obviously and idk a oneshots of sum fluffy like maybe....the boys have a day off and they just have a cute cozy day together lazily hanging out In the dorm together js so cute and soft baby! Love youuu

word count: 1.6k

genre: fluff, a tad bit of hurt/comfort, kinda went into crack at the end

author's note: Ofc pookie, you can request here anytime. Hope you'll like it!

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All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

You were looking forward to the next day, the knowledge that all your extremely busy boyfriends were finally having a day off just overwhelming you with giddiness, making you vibe through all night instead of getting your much needed sleep. But it didn’t matter, not to you, the adrenaline returning to your veins just from the mere thought, the schedule you had made for it flashing before your eyes clearly.

You would have the best, most comfiest day with all your boyfriends even if it cost you your soul, dang it!

So, with a passionate fire burning in your eyes -that rested above dark circles, mind you-, you started getting ready. After all the years you had spent with them, you knew they didn’t care a smudge if you put any makeup on or not, never hesitating to compliment you. That was why you decided to skip that step, instead putting on some comfy sweatpants, fluffy socks and one of the boys’ sweater. This one in particular was Jeongin’s, although it changed every week or so, your wardrobe filled with stolen clothes from them all.

Nodding to yourself in the mirror, you got around to taming your hair, throwing it into a lazy bun, but one that was still carefully crafted, certain strands pulled and pushed to stay in their place and frame your face delightfully.

Glancing back, you once again nodded, satisfied with your look, but only after deciding to hide your newly acquired eyebags at least a little bit. You didn’t want to worry the boys, after all, and you knew how fussy they could get.

The ride to their dorms was short, the driver they had sent for you quick and efficient at his job. Although you found it strange none of the idols decided to join you, especially the two eldest, knowing how overprotective they could get. But even after checking your phone for the third time, no new messages from them could be seen, something that struck you as odd.

Never once did they fail to update you about plans, at least one of them quick to write it down for you, along with an apology and a promise to make it up to you.

So what was this all about?

Questions swirled around in your head, the differently coloured little hearts on your screen they had sent blinking back at you. Pushing it to the back of your mind, you shrugged and got out of the car, using an entrance well hidden from prying eyes to get into the building.

The road to their dorms was silent, giving ample time for useless worries to start forming in your head, your earlier excitement slowly dying and leaving exhaustion in its place. Were they hiding something? Were you not good enough anymore? They had each other, so getting the idea that they wanted you as well by their side was something you struggled with constantly, even after long, long years.

Taking a deep breath, you opened their door, your fingers automatically punching in the code from sheer muscle memory.

Glitter and confetti greeted you the moment you stepped foot inside, strings of paper landing on your hair and making it shine as you just stood there, blinking in surprise.

Well, this definitely wasn’t what you were expecting.

Every single one of them were standing in front of you, shouting a warm welcome, their faces lit with the brightest of smiles you had seen in a while. Something that soon started melting off as your eyes turned glossy, too late to hide behind your hands. Well, you tried to anyway.

“Wait, baby, what’s wrong?” - Chan asked, quick to be by your side. “Jagi?” - Jisung was next, arms gently prying yours away from your wet face.

You dove into the quokka’s arms, hiding yourself in there instead, shame still clinging to you harshly. Amidst your sobs, you tried telling them why the sudden tears, words slowly forming sentences. It told them how you thought they had finally gotten bored of you, how relieved you had felt by their warm welcome. They gently shushed you, compliment after compliment leaving their mouths, hands gently gliding along your form.

“Next time we’ll text you it’s a surprise, hm?” - Felix’s deep voice tried to do some damage control, causing you to nod into Jisung’s shoulder. “Yah, what will we ever do with you? Our cute lil crybaby.” - Seungmin teased, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, flashing you his cute smile as a reward. “Minnieee, not now!” “What?” “You’re not really helping with your teasing right now!” “It’s only you and your sensitive soul that cannot deal with it, Hyunjin hyung.”

A dramatic gasp could be heard, chuckling following it, yours joining theirs as well.

“Alright, let’s get our Kitten inside, we can’t stand here all day.” - Minho said, leaving a chaste kiss on Jisung’s lips as he passed by, not before gliding his hand along your bottom.

You gently shook your head at his antics, long ago used to them, the small smile on your face betraying that small fact. Jeongin took you out of Jisung’s arms before the latter could realise it, a devious little smirk on the maknae’s face as he carried you away, a surprised yelp escaping you.

“YAH, YANG JEONGIN, GIVE HER BACK!” “NEVER!”

And thus their little war had started up again, the two usually fighting for the right to cuddle you on the couch whenever you came over. Although usually somehow Seungmin swept you away, the other two too busy to notice you were gone, just like now.

You were now sat in the puppy’s lap, merely 5 minutes after your first abduction, the others too amused to stop any of it from happening. Felix was sat in Hyunjin’s lap, playing with the artist’s fingers calmly. Chan somehow wrestled both Changbin and Minho into his lap, something you had always found extremely impressive, given how fussy both could get, especially that cat.

Fingers started gently massaging your hands, drawing little shapes into your skin occasionally, chasing away the last bit of your worries. A nose buried itself into your hair, a sigh joining it soon after. You practically melted into him, his torso being the only thing holding you up, his arms that circled around your waist keeping you in place.

“Wait– NOT AGAIN!” “Ah, he got us again…”

You couldn’t help the snort that left you at that, the two previously arguing members’ reaction way too funny for you. The others thought so as well, some not even trying to hide their laughter. You could feel Seungmin’s chest rumble behind you with each chuckle, sending pleasant chills through your chest.

“I’m amazed you guys never learn.” - he muttered out, voice muffled from behind your hair.

Jeongin and Jisung merely huffed at that, all their excuses falling on deaf ears.

“No, for real though, how can you guys let it happen every single time?” - Changbin asked, his delightfully shrill laughter hidden in each syllable. “It’s like you fight for the sake of fighting, not even to cuddle our cute babygirl.” - Chan joined in, drawing up an eyebrow at them. “You know they do, Hyung, both too feisty for their own good. Not like I mind it though.” - Minho added in with a smirk, making the bickering couple shut up immediately.

You wriggled in the puppy’s lap, successfully breaking free from his hold, only to jump up with way too much enthusiasm.

“Okay, enough! I have everything planned for today, we’re gonna have all the fun we can! First, we’ll start with a movie, maybe a Ghibli one? Anyway, we watch something while we eat lunch that we should order soon, then we’ll play some Mario Kart so I can beat your guys’ asses again, then me and Lixie will go and bake some stuff like his heavenly brownies, then we’ll all play some Just Dance, then–” - a hand tried stopping your excited rambles, even though you kept listing your plans off in a muffled voice without slowing down even just a bit. “Babe, we get it, but breathe, please.” - Hyunjin begged, having dove at you from his place, Felix still in his other arm safely secured.

Having rambled out your plans, even though no one had heard it besides you, a devilish light glinted in your eyes and you licked the idol’s hand, forcing him to yank it away with a disgusted expression now sitting on his face, dragging the licked palm into your own clothes. Meanwhile, you just giggled there, the sound only becoming stronger by each second, enforced by everyone’s else’s nearby.

Before Hyunjin could grab you to take his revenge, you dashed away and hid behind Jeongin and Jisung, the two still standing instead of sitting down, too entranced by your shenanigans.

“Get out of there and stop being a lil maniac, you–” “Oh, that was a mistake, Hyune.” - Felix commented as everyone watched your expression shift along with Jisung’s, little imaginary horns growing on top of your heads in front of their very eyes.

Why?

Because you both started singing their song, MANIAC, full force, lungs at full capacity and without a single sign of stopping anytime soon. No, you both started even dancing it -well, you kinda tried to at least-, Innie and Felix joining you, while Hyunjin just cringed away from you, looking as if he wanted to dig a hole for himself. Changbin wasn’t far behind to hop up and take his place alongside you, Chan singing his soul out while Minho playfully rolled his eyes. Your puppy was doing something similar as well, but you knew they all enjoyed it, especially when they joined at your request, even the dramatic little weasel.

Truly, their day off couldn’t have started any better.