#intelligent thermostats

[it-la-technical-support]

Introduction The advent of home automation systems has transformed our living spaces into dynamic environments that adapt to our needs. The rise of smart home automation has made our daily routines more streamlined, energy-conscious, and secure. But with a myriad of choices out there, how do you craft the ideal smart home system that caters to your unique needs? Let's navigate the fascinating world of home control and automation to help you make an enlightened choice. Decoding Home Automation Systems At its essence, a home automation system empowers you to control various aspects of your home environment - from lighting and temperature to security systems and appliances - all through a unified interface. This could be a dedicated panel mounted on your wall, a smartphone app, or even voice commands via devices like Amazon Alexa or Google Home. The Advantages of Smart Home Automation The benefits of smart home automation are extensive. For starters, it offers unmatched convenience. Picture adjusting the temperature, dimming the lights, or monitoring your security cameras, all without having to move an inch. Furthermore, home automation systems can significantly boost your home's energy efficiency. With features like automated lighting, intelligent thermostats, and energy-efficient appliances, you can cut down on energy usage and reduce your utility bills. Crafting the Ideal Smart Home System When it comes to crafting the ideal smart home system, it's crucial to consider your specific needs and lifestyle. Are you looking to focus on security, energy efficiency, convenience, or a blend of these? Begin by selecting a reliable and user-friendly home control interface. This could be a smartphone app, a voice assistant, or a wall-mounted panel. Next, choose the devices and systems you wish to automate. These could range from lighting and HVAC systems to security cameras and smart locks. Remember, the ideal smart home system is one that integrates seamlessly with your lifestyle, enhances your comfort, and caters to your specific needs. Conclusion In the age of intelligent technology, home automation systems are not just a luxury but a valuable asset for enhancing our daily lives. By understanding your needs and exploring the available options, you can craft the ideal smart home system that offers convenience, security, and energy efficiency. Welcome to the future of home living.

[pseudoneiiric]

i was talking the other day about how i should write a meta about how vince sees himself, and while i was taking the bus home today i was thinking about it. and it kind of hit me that vince is a really difficult character to nail down writing-wise. like i mentioned this in a voice note a while back, but vince just isn’t tropey. you can’t really assign him tropes and kind of write from that trope, because he doesn’t really fit any trope at all. he’s not entirely the self-sacrificing type, not entirely a doormat, not entirely a fighter, not entirely the fat loser, not entirely an athletic wrestler, not entirely an academic type... and so on. there’s just a lot of complexities to vince that make it hard to kind of get his voice down.

like, here’s an example. we can kind of see through vince’s dialogue that he doesn’t like himself very much. he feels insecure about his size, he doesn’t consider himself to be intelligent, and he pretty regularly hides or covers up his true feelings. but then he’s also calling himself a superhero around zoe, standing up for himself around jim, and really knowing to some degree who he is, what he wants, and what he values. i keep coming back to the constant dialogue around vince being a fighter; the lawyer in his dream says, so you do got a little fight left in you, jim always wants vince to fight back, and if vince tells michelle he’s going to sue the airline, she tells him she’s happy to see him fight for something again. like i think vince is a very passionate character when it all comes down to it. but this post isn’t really about who vince is, but rather who he thinks he is.

and that’s kind of complicated! i keep coming back to the line where jim’s like “you’d make a good shrink” and vince immediately shoots back with “more like a neurotic patient”. im like (lawyer voice) oh so you do got a little anxiety left in you. i just think a lot about how vince was bullied as a kid but he still has such amazing workplace relationships. does he even realize how many friends he has? like, i think that’s the real tragedy of vince, that he probably has a much better support system than he gives himself credit for. i think about how supportive michelle is once she realizes where her priorities are, and like... god, and we can’t forget that line where vince is like “how could you think you’d be better off without your family? without mine, i’d be...” like it’s about him defining himself by his family but still not being a total doormat! he’s not happy making all these sacrifices for them, but he’s not unhappy either. it says something that i can see him pushing michelle about bruce’s texts and i can also see him telling her that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t want to know, that if she says nothing happened, he doesn’t want to make problems that don’t exist. like vince is soooo fascinating to me because you really have to be immersed in his mindset to write him. it’s hard to write him if you don’t have your finger on his pulse, so to speak. and i know this is rambly and not very put together but the point is that there’s a lot of contradictions to vince’s character, but not in the same way that we see contradictions in lilian’s character, for example. it’s not really opposing things like how we see for lilian, it’s more that vince is really complicated while also being surprisingly simple.

i wish i could nail this down exactly but unfortunately i am way too tired! but i may return to this concept and continue rambling about it. there are just so many lines for vince that hit different and really make me think about him. the ones i mentioned above (“so you do got a little fight left in you”, “more like a neurotic patient”, “how could you think you’d be better off without your family? without mine, i’d be...”, “i have enough problems without making ones that don’t need to exist”), but then there are a whole ton more, like... when he’s talking to jay about why he didn’t pursue flight school, he mentions that once michelle and zoe came into his life, he just had a new dream and the old one fell to the wayside. which is so important to me! and “fuck you, sheriff” haunts me, alongside lines like “it’s a/c by vince” and “no fear. gonna be awesome”. and like, come on, you can’t say vince is passive and fearful when he tells dale to his face “keep it in the gene pool” like COME ON!!! this man is insane and i haven’t even talked about his complex about his intelligence and appearance. oh my god

[ai-innova7ions]

Video Autogenerated by Faceless.Video

Micro AI is revolutionizing the way we interact with technology.

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#microai #EdgeComputing

[halbtagsblog]

Zwei Monate mit intelligenten Thermostaten

Zwei Monate mit intelligenten Thermostaten im Haus. Ich bin positiv überrascht.

Seit vielen Jahren lese ich im Internet von intelligenten Häusern: Kühlschränke und Spülmaschinen, die miteinander sprechen und selbstständig Nachschub bestellen. Türschlösser, die sich mit dem Smartphone öffnen lassen. Fernsteuerbare Lampen und intelligente Heizungen. Toiletten. Industrie 4.0, wie ich es als Naivling verstehe. Und ehrlicherweise ist das für mich sehr, sehr weit…

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Androids Walter & David x Reader x Neomorph

Walter, the android monitoring the colonization ship 'Covenant' on its way to Origae-6, seems to have gotten unnaturally attached to his human assistant. As he ponders his erroneous feelings, an unexpected detour brings them to David, an older android counterpart that has been alone on the mysterious planet. The AI assistants become increasingly competitive for (Y/N)'s attention, so much that they don't notice the newly formed humanoid local preying on a fresh target.

TW: violence, gore, monster smut ending

[Horror Masterlist]

"Burnt to a crisp." 

You turn away from the captain's pod, leaving the rest of the damage assessment to the medical crew that has been reanimated. You speedily make your way down the sterile white corridors as Walter rushes to catch up. 

"What should I write for the report?" he inquires politely.

"Malfunction." You glance back at the synthetic. "I suspect someone will be fired for this. And someone else will have to explain how they failed to detect a literal star collapse. That neutrino burst could've killed us all."

"Highly probable. The draft has been compiled, you may check it at any time. I require your confirmation to send it."

Your only feedback is a barely audible hum. 

Walter smiles. If there's one good thing about such tragedies, it's that he gets to admire your reactions to them. Your focused, calculated gaze, your determined walk, your automated mannerisms that won't allow the slightest hint at the fact you just woke up from your stasis moments ago. Even under the veils of deep slumber, your neural networks shot rapid connections, with no delay, from the second your sleeping pod received an alert. The accuracy of a robot.

That of course doesn't mean he lacks appreciation for your other facets. That's the beauty of humans; their depth, their dimensions. Unlike AI machinery, humans do not have predetermined actions. They may be genetically programmed to possess certain characteristics, but the psychological mechanisms are shaped by so many variables, billions and billions of tweaks and nudges, to the point where it's impossible to have two identical specimens. Even twins will display a difference, whether in preferences or habits.

They say artificial intelligence is a black box, but can the same concept not be applied to humans as well? At the very least to Walter himself, these organic beings represent a mystery. One he doesn't particularly care to uncover outside of his service functions. Except for one. 

His eyes carefully follow (Y/N)'s movements. What is it about this one that has caught his interest to such degree? On his last system update he attentively inspected every file and every block of code, searching for potential errors that would've caused his circuits to behave so oddly. He has been invested with the ability to form attachments, otherwise assigning his kind to groups or purposes would've lacked stability. Attachment, however, comes with a threshold. One he has passed a long time ago when it comes to (Y/N). And he cannot find any cause for it. 

He could, naturally, solicit the aid of the ship's robotics expert. He could. He should, even. But if he may be frank with himself, Walter rather enjoys this sensation. A complex web of spores that keep growing and evolving into something unpredictable. This bizarre feeling he has towards (Y/N) makes him feel human. It brings him closer to all the old literature and art he'd consumed over the years, wondering what the love and yearning often portrayed could be. The printed letters and the strokes of paint were right before him, at his fingertips, and yet they felt foreign. Empty constructs, nothing more than a definition out of the dictionary. 

Now it's a different story. Your presence alone floods him with a mysterious warmth. He had investigated this phenomenon when it first happened, but his inner thermostat showed no real change in temperature. Nonetheless he can feel it. It makes him wonder what other feelings he might experience as consequence. What would happen if he kissed you? Sometimes he even dares to imagine downright outrageous, improper scenarios. How unprofessional of him, but he is careful to erase any evidence. It's another novel sensation that he likes to dissect. Engaging in such activities with you fills him with tingling excitement. Why is that? What is there to be excited about? It's merely a collection of fictive snippets. Unless... Ah, absolutely not. This is where he has to stop in his tracks and preoccupy himself with something else. Androids are not to interact with humans in that way. 

But it's becoming more and more difficult to keep these ideas in his mind only. 

"It's too dangerous. One human signal in the middle of nowhere?" Daniels, a short haired woman with a tomboyish but youthful appearance, is pacing back and forth. "We should just continue on our course."

"It's our duty to check. Look: we go, find whoever sent the signal, bring them back up. That's it. If the planet proves to be dangerous we'll stop immediately. We'll be fine." Oram stands at the head of the table, arms crossed. He turns to look at you. Already cozying up to his newly acquired captain role, you think.

"Alright. Walter, prepare a small landing party. Have Tennessee maintain orbit while we're down there." you glance at the other crew members that have now gathered around the same table. "And get your weapons ready, we don't know what to expect."

And you certainly didn't. Your final words of warning now echo into your ringing ears as you lay on the ground, face buried among the grass. There's screaming around you, but it sounds muffled. Your eyes are irritated by the dirt and you'd like to blink the grime off, though every time your eyelids lower, you can see the pale creature trashing out of Hallett's mouth. Then it's all foggy. Your vision blurs, but you can hear. The gurgling of blood, the screech of the parasite. Walter's frantic footsteps nearing in your direction. You're lifted up.

"Vitals are positive. No significant damage." 

You can guess from your peripherals that another crew member is currently being mauled by the beast. There's gunshots in your vicinity and terrified wails. You quickly come back to your senses and stand up. Your hand searches for your weapon, but the android places his arm before you.

"Do not engage, (Y/N). It is an unknown parasitic organism of this ecosystem. Keep your distance for optimal safety and I'll take care of the rest."

"What are you talking about? They're dying! Your task is to ensure human survival, Walter. I can handle myself, go help the others. It's an order." Your voice is low. You're distracted.

"No."

You stare at the synthetic, wide eyed. Did he just...refuse? Not possible. 

"What did you say?"

"I said I'll protect you. Nothing else."

Your mouth is slightly parted in disbelief. It is not possible for an artificial assistant to disobey a superior. It just doesn't work. Your mind races to find an explanation. At the same time, you cannot afford to ponder on hypotheses. You draw out your weapon and point it towards the creature. You'll deal with this later. 

The moment you press the trigger, a blinding flash of light detonates in the sky, startling you. The creature scrambles to get away. You squint your eyes and nearly fall back, but Walter swiftly grabs your shoulders to ground you. He scans the area for the source. It's an emergency rocket and someone else must've activated it. As he traces the tail of the explosion, he spots a hooded figure across the field and onto the rocky ascend. It seems to have noticed Walter, as it gestures for them to follow. Without hesitation, the man firmly locks your arm and pulls you after him. The priority right now is to find shelter.

"Come!", Walter exclaims, suddenly remembering the other people. 

You reach a cave structure that has been converted into a crude, improvised human settlement. The man lowers his hood and you gasp quietly at the sight. He strongly resembles Walter. He must have noticed your surprise as he flashes you a cordial smile. 

"I'm David." He studies Walter's features. "You must be a newer model. What name have you been given?"

"Walter."

"I see. And you are-" David extends a hand towards you for a handshake, but Walter steps in front of you, blocking the android's gesture.

"She's (Y/N). I'm afraid I cannot yet trust you."

"Understandable." 

David's smile widens as his eyes, now bearing a strange flicker, switch between you and Walter. He's just like him. He can sense it. Although it's a different kind of flaw that has tainted his pure, artificial soul. He cannot help the curiosity that blooms, gazing at this peculiar pair. What is it about this human that caused his fellow machine to break conduit? He'd like to know.

"I'm certain you will soon learn I am no threat, (Y/N)."

The remaining members of the expedition are unpacking and discussing evacuation plans with the base, while Walter sends the data he has gathered so far. You let them deal with the logistics and cautiously wander off to the neighboring rooms, wondering what David has been up to all this time in isolation.

The walls are plastered with photos and handwritten sketches and diagrams. You catch a glimpse of the word "pathogen" sporadically inserted across these notes. As you walk along the sequence of cramped chambers, you reach one that has a table in the middle. Upon it rests the body of an autopsied woman, vulgarly opened up to the world with plump organs bulging under the warm light. You feel nauseous. And yet, you examine the carcass further, hoping for answers. Was she also a result of the same disease that breeds on this planet? Perhaps this David had worked on a cure, or at least developed an explanation. 

"And you, even you, will be like this drear thing, A vile infection man may not endure; Star that I yearn to! Sun that lights my spring! O passionate and pure."

You jolt and immediately turn around, finding David in the doorframe. 

"Flowers of Evil. Are you familiar with it?" he asks, indifferent to the uncomfortable shock he'd caused you with his sudden entrance.

"I've read my Baudelaire, yes." You manage to mumble, dumbfounded. "What is this, David?"

"Oh, my poor, dear Elizabeth. Victim to whatever blasphemy lurks these soils and has taken your friends as well." He approaches the table and places his hand on its hard edge, shyly overlapping with your own fingers. "I did my best." 

You remove your hand from underneath his nonchalantly. 

"So you know what those creatures are. Leave the literary comments for a different time, I need concrete facts."

"Unbothered and to the point." the blonde android smiles once again. "I can see clearly why Walter loves you."

You click your tongue at the ridiculous statement. Has the neutrino burst damaged their positronic brain? Everyone is acting off and you don't like it. 

"Your circuits must have gone defective, David. We have a specialist on our ship, but until that happens I need you to focus. Enough nonsense." 

 "Typical arrogance of a dying species. Why are you on a colonization mission if not to grasp at some promised resurrection? Rest assured that my functioning has not been impeded by anything. What is erroneous, on the other hand, is your perception of androids and their limits."

Just as David reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer, a familiar voice interrupts with an intimidating tone. You're relieved. 

"I will ask that you release her hand only once." Walter has a weapon pointed towards his counterpart. His face is clouded by a frown. "I have no ethical restrictions when it comes to incapacitating machinery."

"Such noble obedience! Although, you conveniently left out the part where you abandoned the remaining crew with a dangerous alien that has been tracking their scent. By my approximation he should already be here and I am rather confident you know this, too."

Your stomach drops. Now that you adjust your focus, the background humming of your mates talking has indeed vanished. The only thing you can hear is your erratic breathing.

"Is it true, Walter?" You demand as dread begins to form in your body.

"Yes. It was not part of my priorities."

"Of course it was, Walter." David responds ahead of you. "One of them was the acting captain and he is to be rescued in emergencies. This one right here", he says as he dangles your wrist, "is several ranks lower than all of them. It's against any standard practice."

"Release her hand." Walter's voice is eerily calm.

"Do you love her?"

Walter ponders the question. Your legs barely hold on.

"I do."

"Marvelous. So do I." David grins. He releases your hand that falls limp next to your body. It's his turn to step in front of you. 

You nearly choke from the thick tension expanding in the air. The two androids face each other and you retreat to the wall, unsure how to proceed. You left your radio transmitter back at the makeshift camp. The back of your head is itching, as if invisible claws are scratching at the bone. You wish you could go back, just mere hours before this disaster, when you were sipping on your lukewarm coffee and explaining the captain's jokes to Walter. 

Should you make a run for it?

You bite your lower lip and push yourself off the wall for momentum. You're about to reach the archway when you hear both men shouting almost identically in chorus.

"Don't!"

The surroundings outside are dark, but you can discern something blocking your path. It's tall and resembles a human. Translucent, pallid skin is clinging onto the massive, deformed skeleton. The head is elongated and bears no features. In the place of a mouth there is a large, fresh stain of blood, so you assume it can somehow improvise if desired. As your head tilts back to take in the image, you're overwhelmed with terrified amazement. Is this the parasite that emerged from your teammate? Has it grown to this colossal size in less than a day? The idea of such instant development makes your head spin. 

Its chest is expanding at regular intervals in a whistled breathing. It occasionally creates an odd clicking sound that resonates with your heart throbbing in panic. Has it been seconds? Minutes? Your neck creaks as you try to look back. You lock eyes with Walter. You don't recall ever seeing this expression on him. You had even asked him once if androids can feel fear. You have your answer.

"Hey, Walter..." you blurt out. 

Wet noises of flesh being pulled back. The smooth surface of the alien's head is folding away, making space for grotesquely big jaws lined with sharp teeth. Your anemic face is splattered with burning drool as the creature claws you in its grasp and abruptly sprints away. Your screams for help dissolve in the distance.

"Where is it going, David?" The synthetic's words are threatening, but betrayed by a hint of despair. 

"It won't kill her."

"How do you know?"

"It is no longer hungry. It has fed on your crew, and now it seeks something else."

"Such as?" Walter becomes impatient.

"A plaything."

The alien finally drops your body to the ground. You cough and wipe your face, attempting to reorient yourself. The trip was a whirlwind of jumps and turns and you can barely reconstruct anything. Based on the little spatial clues you could pick up, it just climbed further up, into one of the many cave systems. You pat your clothing and curse to yourself. The geolocation tag must've fallen somewhere on the way here. You can only pray that Walter still finds you somehow. Despite everything, you know he has your back. Always. 

You shudder at the moist feeling of hot air against your skin. The alien seems to be sniffing you intently, analyzing your scent. Yet so far it hasn't killed you. Why? Long, bony fingers stretch out to continue the examination. You whimper at the rough, rugged handling. Every now and then it takes a long pause, just staring at you, almost as if it's comparing you to its own being. Lastly, it lifts your hand with its own, pressing against the palm, and fans out the fingers. It observes the gesture with intrigue, noting the similarities. 

Does it evolve after its host? You think back to your crewmate that must've ejected this monstrosity before drawing their last breath. Perhaps the dried up blood adorning its skin is a remainder of its birth. Oh, God. The world is spinning.

Suddenly, you wince at an increasing pressure slithering around your thigh. The alien's vertebral tail is tightening and encircling your limb, making its way up. 

"Oh no, no no no no" your face reddens at the realization and you pounce on the ground, feverish for escape. The large hands secure you in place and the creature growls in protest. It won't let you leave. 

Not until it had its fun with you.

[wilwheaton]

As Jan. 6 bore down on Perry and the rest of Trumpworld, his requests and directives appeared to become more frantic. On Jan. 1, Perry sent Clark “relevant information” via multiple texts, before telling the supposed acting-attorney-general-in-waiting to make sure that the Director of National Intelligence provided “exactly what you need. I’m attempting to send you specific questions [r]ight now.” Clark replied by telling Perry to tell Trump that Gina Haspel “needs to get me” security clearance “tickets” in order to “access certain compartments of information otherwise sealed off.” “Roger,” Perry replied. He later texted Clark that “POTUS is giving you a presidential security clearance.” At the time, a 2021 Senate Judiciary Report said, Clark was seeking access to classified records from the DNI to substantiate a theory that the Chinese government had weaponized advanced home thermostats to interfere with voting machines.

How Scott Perry Went Off The Deep End In Effort To Debunk Trump Loss

“...a theory that the Chinese government had weaponized advanced home thermostats to interfere with voting machines”

This is so fucking crazy.

[merakiui]

thinking about androids again, but rather than the plot seen in android jade,,,, consider android floyd who is being developed by tech genius idia shroud with input and funding from business magnate azul ashengrotto.

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, vaguely implied non-con/dub-con, android floyd)

He's designed to be a companion for those who are lonely and in need of the company (whether physically or socially). You're just a tired, overworked university student, so it's mind-boggling to you when there's a sleek limousine parked just beyond campus property. Security guards are insisting you come with them because there's someone who'd like to meet you.

In the limo, you find yourself sitting across from Azul Ashengrotto himself. He doesn't bother with flowery introductions, instead cutting to the heart of the matter. You've been randomly selected to help with a very important phase of his and Idia's project. The general idea is to test how well the android interacts with a normal, ordinary person in a monitored setting.

You're very confused. You never signed up for any lottery, and you certainly aren't affiliated with anything of that sort. You're just trying to get through your degree, survive two part-times, and hopefully make enough to keep afloat for another month. Azul tells you this isn't an issue; you'll be generously compensated for your time and efforts. It's only three months; you'll be permitted to live your life as you normally would, only now you'll be accompanied by a highly intelligent android.

Despite hearing all of this, you hesitate when he reveals the lengthy contract. As you flip through it, analyzing each clause and category, Azul says something that piques your interest. "We don't expect you to house an android in your little apartment. Goodness, that's simply ludicrous. We'll provide your housing for these next three months. After all, we must be able to monitor your progress."

"Housing? What do you mean?"

He smiles at you. Backdropped by leather interior, the lights casting odd shadows on his face, he looks near-sinister. But he leans forward to press a ballpoint pen into your hands and the illusion vanishes. "I think you'll find it quite to your liking. If you've finished your classes for the day, why not visit the property with me? Then you may decide whether you wish to participate."

You're not worried about that part. What worries you the most, however, is the fact that he's right. You are finished with classes for the day and you have nothing planned. You took today off from work. Your schedule is perfectly free.

But of course the Azul Ashengrotto wouldn't know that, would he?

The house is a smart home, equipped with every necessity and appliance. Everything's controlled by a remote here. It's not very far from your university either, built on a hill that overlooks houses below. It feels a little isolating and smells very new and clean. Like that fabled new car smell, only it's a house. But everything is so unique to you. Its minimalistic design is oddly cozy, and you can't help but feel enchanted the deeper you venture through the two-story home. It's all so unreal!

Azul gives you the rundown, explains how the remote and each button works. You can lock doors, open and close windows, mess with the thermostat, turn the home security on and off, and even start the oven. You hold the power to this home in the palm of your hands. It's immensely fascinating.

By the end of the tour, you're shaking his hand and signing his contract, agreeing to three months of study. Not only are you provided this nice home, you'll also be paid per week. And the pay is far more than you were making with your two jobs.

The android has a long, tongue-tying serial number, so to make things easier he's named Floyd. They even gave him a surname in preparation for the twin android who is being designed to complement and mirror him. He certainly looks human when you meet him, but there's this uncanny nature to his presence that slightly unnerves you. He's too perfect. Skin too smooth. Eyes too bright. Hair too soft. He towers over you, having to bend down to walk through the doorframe, and every movement he makes is very mechanical and stiff.

Still, you smile at him and offer your hand. "Hi there. I'm (Name). Your...housemate, I guess."

He nods, peering down at your hand before lifting his own. "Floyd Leech. At your service."

You were expecting to feel coldness, so you startle when his hand fits into yours and it's warm. It feels so very real. So deceptively lifelike. You wonder if he can regulate his own internal temperatures. Just how advanced is he?

"Right... Um, I look forward to getting to know you!"

He nods again, releasing your hand after a perfectly timed handshake.

Azul had given you a special number should you need to reach him or Idia. All you needed to do was phone it if at any point you were to feel confused or unsafe. "But I don't think you'll utilize it," he told you when you stood in the lab, watching Idia Shroud flit around to do final maintenance checks to ensure Floyd was ready for his first trial run. His eyes were open the entire time, two mismatched lights centered on you. His stare was listless, but somehow you felt as if he was looking through to your very soul. "He's very safe. In fact, he's programmed to assess and react appropriately to dangers of all kinds. You'll be safe with him around."

And safe you are.

You've always been alone, so it's nice to have a roommate, even if he only speaks when spoken to. It's awkward for all of one week until you ease into his pattern. From various vantage points throughout the house, Idia and Azul watch through hidden cameras. You cook your meals for yourself and Floyd watches, assisting when you order him to. You leave for class and Floyd waits by the door for you to return, standing stock-still for hours.

You lounge in the sitting room and put on all kinds of films. Action. Comedy. Horror. Floyd's eyes never leave the screen. But sometimes he watches you more than he watches the movie, noting all of your reactions. He doesn't understand why you get so emotional over sappy romances. So you explain it simply: "It evokes emotions. We all have emotions, and these movies make us feel them. Happy. Sad. Angry. Upset. Things like that."

But Floyd doesn't feel. Even so, he listens and he nods along, filing your answers away for later dissection. It's interesting.

By the end of the first month, Floyd's adopted new habits. Ever since you told him he's free to do as he pleases, he's taken to cooking your meals for you, doing your laundry, preparing your bag for the day. He's surprisingly good at it. He does chores when you leave for classes or work. And for the first time in a while you're excited to return home, knowing he's there waiting.

Floyd adds new words and phrases to his ever-expanding vocabulary. You watch a lot of TV together and he starts to use some of what he hears in his own speech. He picks up informal language quickly, and it isn't long until he's using words like sup or dunno instead of the rigid how are you? and I am unsure he was previously programmed with.

The first sign of unrest comes when you realize Floyd's also connected to the smart home. At first you didn't think it was a bad thing. After all, with him controlling it you won't have to worry about getting up to grab the remote if you've already sat down. Floyd can do that for you. But then the remote goes missing, later turning up shattered. You ask Floyd what happened and he looks at you and says, "Why use this piece of junk when you've got me?"

"Still... What if you're not able to help? What if you're in sleep mode and I need to open a window or something?" you argue, cradling the splinters of remote like they're an injured baby bird.

"That won't happen," he replies smoothly, issuing you a soothing smile. "I'm always gonna be here for ya. Count on it."

And you do because, by the time the three months are nearing their end and Floyd's developed into quite the companion, more and more human than he's ever seemed, you find yourself stuck.

No, not stuck. That's not quite right. You're more so trapped.

Floyd locks the doors, shutters the windows, turns off the lights. You're cowering in the closet, the only place that feels just a little safe in this moment. You can't reach Azul or Idia either. He's shut the power off, the internet connection, everything. The smart home on the hilltop feels like a tiny island now, and Floyd's the shark always circling it, waiting for you to dip your feet into the depths.

"C'mon, Shrimpy," he calls out, and it's a nickname you were once so fond of because he thought of it himself. "I already told ya I ain't gonna hurt ya. So just come out and talk to me."

You have no idea where you went wrong. Was it too many horror films? Was it the fact that you started to rely so heavily on him for companionship, ignoring your human friends in favor of staying in with Floyd? Or was it because he was blocking their numbers that you never received any messages and automatically assumed they were cutting contact? He said he'd always be here for you, so why to this degree?

The closet doors are thrown open. Floyd drags you, kicking and screaming, out by the ankles. Every camera has gone dark on Azul and Idia's end. All but one. The one in the bedroom. Floyd stares directly at it when he lifts you up and lays you on the bed, gentle and sugary-sweet.

He smiles and waves before that screen blanks out, leaving you truly trapped with him.

And because it's all experimental, morbid curiosity trumping ethical morals, no one comes to rescue you.

Three months is more of an indefinite forever in this lonesome smart home.

[redroomreflections]

What They Left Behind

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary :The Avengers and U.S. Government have been trying to take down a privately owned medical company named Visage for years. On a mission gone wrong, Natasha discovers something in the remains. With its existence, she uncovers a dark truth. The Island meets A.I. Artificial Intelligence.

w/c: 8.2k

Icy fingers wrapped around the doorknob in the darkness. The dimly lit porch light allowed her to find her way inside. Natasha pushed the door open gently, hoping it wouldn't disturb the silence encompassing the cozy apartment. Her footsteps creaked against the old wooden floors the more she shuffled down the hallway. Natasha stumbles through your shared space, one arm clutched to her side, the other carrying all of her belongings, as she headed for the bathroom. She didn't pay attention to the gash on her thigh, or the limp in her walk, as her targeted area became more apparent. She used her bad arm to support the extra weight she was carrying as she tried her hardest not to drop everything. Ignoring the pain in her side to bend over the bathtub, She sets everything down gently. She drops her bag outside of the tub, making sure not to jostle anything she was carrying, as she rushes out to the linen closet. She grabs a bunch of towels, a spare blanket, and face towels. She's not thinking straight right now. Her mind is a jumbled mess. She checks the thermostat, turning the heat to a higher temperature, before deciding she's satisfied.

Her next raid is the small bar in a corner of the dining room. She's careful not to get blood anywhere. There's a half-empty bottle of vodka that she plans to drown herself in. She steps lightly, peeking into the closed door of your bedroom, to find you fast asleep. She returns to the bathroom, placing the blanket inside, tucked nicely and neat before leaning against the counter. She rids herself of her jacket, hiding her pain behind a grimace, as she checks her arm. It's not broken. Probably a sprained wrist.

She twists her body around towards the mirror to inspect her face. There's a cut just above her right eyebrow. She bends slightly to reach into the cabinet for a first aid kit. One you reminded her to buy after this same scenario happened one too many times. Next are her pants. She has a more challenging time removing them as they're ripped and the blood from her fresh wound has dried. The stretch material sticks to her legs and she has to maneuver her body to kick them the rest of the way down. She almost knocks the vodka bottle over, using her quick reflexes to catch it before it drops to the ground. She peeks over to the tub, finding that nothing has changed, as she opens the bottle. She approaches the sink, stretching her legs across it, to inspect the cut. It's deep. Probably has glass in it but it's nothing she can't take care of. She takes a sip of the vodka, and then another, and one more before she begins to feel the familiar burn in her throat.

She rifles through the first aid kit for a pair of tweezers before she sighs. This is going to suck.

*****************

You kick the heavy blankets from your body, taking a harsh breath, as you drift in and out of sleep. You flip to your back, hoping to cool off as you toss and turn. It's warm in here. Warmer than you're used to and you know that can only mean one thing. You sit up, looking for any sign of Natasha before you come up short. Her side of the bed is still cold, your phone doesn't have any messages or missed calls, and nothing seems to be out of place. You stand, opening your bedroom door, to see the bathroom light on. That's weird. You look down at the ground, spotting a few drops of blood, a stark contrast from the dark maple wood. You hold your breath in anticipation of what you're about to see. You've been in this position dozens of times before. Often, you could stomach it. it's a part of her job. Natasha is sitting on the bathroom counter, struggling to wrap gauze around her thigh with one hand when you enter.

You immediately jump into action, pushing her hands aside, as you tear the gauze the right way. You glance at her face, taking note of all of her injuries, her bloodshot eyes, and the barely filled bottle of vodka. Natasha watches you, waiting for you to say anything, as she leans back.

"You didn't call," You say finally.

"I was busy," She answers.

"Too busy to call your wife?" You grip her leg a bit tighter than necessary but when you notice the way she tenses, you release it. You're not angry. Not really. Just scared. Whenever Natasha is away on a mission too long you get nervous. That she won't come home. That the last time you saw her would become forever. She knows this. "You skipped debriefing and medical."

"Had to get home to you," Natasha coughs once you're done patching up her leg. You rest your hands on the counter on each side of her. She can see the worry in your eyes. She leans over, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before she pulls back.

"Your face?" You reach up to inspect the cut and she catches your arm. Only then do you realize she's holding her other one to her side. "Natasha, what happened?"

"The usual," She dismisses softly. "I, um, I have something for you." She tilts her chin towards the tub. You turn slowly, peeking into the bathtub, finally noticing the small, sleeping child wrapped up in one of Natasha's t-shirts. You drop to your knees, your eyes scanning over every single part of their tiny body, as you try to come up with a question. You can't see past the layers of dirt and sod on angelic features. "It's why I skipped everything." She answers.

"H-how old is she?" You reach out to brush your hand over matted and tangled curls. Eyes flutter at your touch but she doesn't move.

"He," Natasha corrects and you turn to her. "A boy. He doesn't speak much. Won't tell me his name or anything else. I found him hiding in one of the lab rooms of the places we raided. They were making some kind of drugs or doing experiments. It's not quite clear. There was a fire and he was the only one left. We think that maybe he wandered over there and his real family is out there looking for him."

"and you brought him home," You tsk. You don't know what to make of this situation.

"I didn't know what else to do," Natasha admits. "I wasn't leaving him at the compound. Giving him over to Ross? Not happening. I just I don't know."

"He probably has a family somewhere," You mutter. You shake your head.

"We can look for them but I couldn't," Natasha doesn't finish her sentence but somehow you know. She has such a big heart and she wouldn't have brought him home if she didn't think this was the best option. The child in question stirs but never awakens.

"In the morning I can make some calls to a couple of friends, see what I can find out, and go from there," You stand, wiping your hands against the fabric of your cotton shorts. "Are you okay besides the obvious?" You ask.

"Y-yeah I'm fine," She nods. She beckons you over with her left hand and you oblige. "I missed you." She speaks low and this time the butterflies in your stomach increase tenfold.

"I missed you too," You kiss her lips. "I need to get us some blankets and pillows." You look around the bathroom. You busy yourself with cleaning. "He's sleeping peacefully right now. He's in a new place and I know in the morning he might not be so calm. If we move him he might wake up and I don't want him to be alone when that happens."

Natasha doesn't say a thing. She agrees. She knows this is your way of feeling useful. She's thrown something big at you. You have every right to be upset and yet you're not. She stands on solid ground again, testing out her leg, to find that while there's still some pain she can walk just fine. She keeps watching over the little boy as you gather blankets and pillows for a makeshift bed. Sleeping on the bathroom floor wasn't on your itinerary for tonight but that could change. You make quick work of cleaning up the blood through the hallway before you return to the bathroom. You make everything as comfortable as possible, gesturing for Natasha to lie down before you help her keep her leg elevated by a bunch of pillows. You turn off the lights, making sure to at least keep the hallway light on to act as a nightlight. You're conscious of Natasha's injuries as you lie your head against her chest. Her heartbeat is soothing. It reminds you she's alive and real. Not that you needed it to.

"What if we can't find his family?" Natasha wonders aloud.

You don't have an answer for her. The question is heavy on your mind too. You fall asleep thinking of every scenario in which you'd be able to keep him. You don't want to get your hopes up.

******************

The morning comes quicker than you would have liked. Your back aches and your hips hurt, and you don't feel Natasha under you. You wipe at your face, feeling around the covers, to find the spot by your side empty. You lift your head, looking around the bathroom, with big green eyes looking at you from just a few feet away.

"Hi," You muster up words as you sit up.

The child doesn't say anything. He simply watches your every move.

"Did you sleep okay?" You ask. You can faintly hear Natasha in the background. She must be in the kitchen. The little boy nods. "That's good." You move to scoot a bit closer but stop yourself when you notice he tenses. "No. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. My name is Y/n. What's your name?"

The boy shrugs. Okay, you're glad he understands English. You're also starting to understand how difficult this will be if he doesn't know his name and he isn't willing to speak.

"Do you have a name?" You question. You almost smack yourself at asking such a dumb thing until he shakes his head. "Oh. okay. I, um, okay." You take a deep breath. Natasha's voice gets a little louder and his eyes dart over to the door. "That's my wife, Natasha, she brought you here. Do you remember that?"

He nods. That's good.

"Are you hungry?" You ask him. "I can make chocolate chip pancakes. Would you like that?" You ask and he nods again. You stand, holding out your hand for him to take, and he does without hesitation. You walk with him out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. Natasha's on the phone, seemingly a bit angry, as she paces. She spots you and your guest, waving her hand to say hello before she turns away. Her attention has been pulled elsewhere. She knows he's safe with you either way. You look down, noticing the pout on his face at Natasha's lack of enthusiasm. "I feel that way too sometimes." You say. You help him to sit on a stool so that he can see both of you.

You look around the kitchen. You don't have much food that's interesting to kids. You and Natasha live quiet lives and really only have the necessities. Your house is not bared but it's certainly not equipped for a child. You look over at him as he waits patiently for your next move. He's so quiet.

Natasha moves to kiss you hello before she lowers her phone to speak.

"I'm on a conference call with Steve and the rest of the team. They're trying to find some of his family." She whispers before exiting the room.

You bend over to look into the fridge deciding on pancakes and eggs for this morning's meal.

"You like eggs right?" Again your question is answered with a shrug. You make enough breakfast for the three of you. Your morning coffee is all you want so you put on a pot for that. You lean against the counter, looking over at him, as he occupies himself with walking his fingers over the cool marble. He's clearly bored. He looks utterly adorable with his messy hair and curious eyes, and he's swimming in Natasha's t-shirt. The sleeves cover his arms and the rest of his body. Hopefully, it's keeping him warm. "How old are you? Do you know that?"

He lifts his head when he realizes you're addressing him. He holds up three fingers.

"You're three?" You confirm and he looks at his hands in confusion. He takes his hand, using it to push up one more finger, before showing it to you. "You're four?" You ask and he nods again. "you just had a birthday?" You take a wild guess and he nods again with wide eyes. "Okay, that's good, um happy birthday." You try to figure out what to ask next. You rifle through the drawers, hoping to find a pen and paper before he stops being so willing to talk. "Did you have a party?" He shakes his head. "Okay, did you have a cake or presents?" He furrows his brow at this. Did he know what any of those things were? Suddenly you're not so sure.

You reach over to the stove, turning it off before you fix him a plate of food. You don't want to make any of this feel like an interrogation. He's still so little and with having a traumatic night he could be forgetting key details about his life. You cut the pancakes into tiny pieces, before putting syrup on the side. The eggs are scrambled as you feel like that's the safest option for a child. You place it in front of him before you step back. You don't watch him, opting to make yourself and Natasha a cup of coffee as you wait. You turn around to find he hasn't touched anything. His fork lies in the same spot beside the eggs. He's looking at the plate as if he's never seen any of this stuff before. He takes his hand, dipping his finger into the syrup, before licking it with his tongue. The sugary sweetness is good and so he dips it again.

"You don't want to try your pancakes?" You approach him. He stops his licking to look up at you. "They're good I promise." You take a pancake, dipping it into the syrup much like he did before, and you take a bite. Reluctantly, he tries it too. Then he gestures for you to try again. It's a back-and-forth tactic that tends to work with all your patients. This one included. Not that he's one of your patients. He's a lost little boy with nowhere else to go. "You know, we're going to have to figure out something to call you." You inform him. This time he points to you. "You want me to pick?" You ask and he nods. You put a finger to your chin not noticing that he's trying to show you his wrist. Surely you could think of something.

Before you can come up with something, Natasha returns to the kitchen. You pass her the cup of coffee, standing beside her, as she drinks from it.

"So, I found out he's four, he's never had pancakes apparently, and he just had a birthday." You inform her.

"That's good," She nods. "The team is still a bit unsure where and how he got into the lab but they're searching every database and working with police to figure out where his family is." She looks over at him as he eats his eggs with his hands. "For now I think he's here. You don't mind do you?"

"No, of course not, I think we're friends," You gesture over to him. "He's going to need clothes though. He can't just walk around in your clothes."

"I can go," She offers and you stop her.

"I can go. You're still injured. What you can do is sit on the couch and keep him entertained while I grab him a few things. He's on the small side but sizes should be true." You instruct.

"You're going to leave me here alone with him?" She looks terrified.

"Natasha, you came here alone with him." You remind her.

"Right, you're right," She relaxes. "I can do it. It's just like babysitting Lila and Cooper."

"Right," You kiss her cheek. You step over to the little boy, as he finishes his breakfast before he looks up at you. Something about his gaze and the way he seems so compliant unsettles you. "Hey, I'm going to step out for a little bit. Just going to the store. It'll be about one hour. I know you can't tell the time but if you think it's too long you can ask Natasha and she'll call me on the phone. Is that okay?"

He nods, puffing up his chest before he looks over to Natasha. It's his own little act of bravery. He feels safe with both of you. You don't want to test that and so you move fast. You don't waste time getting dressed and brushing your teeth. You're prepared well enough to go out.

Natasha is still in the kitchen with your guest when she notices the mood change. His lips curl into a pout, as he fiddles with his hands, his eyes flashing back and forth to the door.

"She'll come back," Natasha breaks him from his thoughts. He looks at her with a serious expression. "She tells the truth always. Until then would you like to watch some TV?" She suggests and he shrugs. Of course.

Natasha dumps the plates into the sink before taking him over to the couch. He climbs up, sitting all the way back against the cushions before he looks over at her expectantly. It takes her a few seconds before Natasha finds an acceptable kids' show. Dora The Explorer. She sits down right next to him and patiently waits for your return.

******************

You never thought shopping for a child would be on your to-do list. You're in one of the aisles at Walmart, looking through their toddler clothes, when you find yourself dissatisfied. You're a psychologist, you know a decent amount about kids, but you never knew how hard it would be to shop for them. Especially when the boys' section doesn't have as much available. You gather a few t-shirts, ones with dinosaurs, ones with trucks, and even some with funny sayings on them before you collect the bottoms. It's still pretty warm outside but you grab an assortment. Next are the socks and the underwear and before you know it you've migrated over to the toy aisle.

You message Natasha to see if she agrees and she texts back with a photo of herself and the little one watching TV. Something inside you shifts. Seeing a photo of the two of them. The way he's curled into Natasha's side and how comfortable he is with her. You two shelved the idea of children. At least for a few years. Work is too crazy for a child. Natasha with her long missions and you picking up more cases at work. You're on track to own your own private practice. Everything's falling into place. Having a child would change things. Besides, you can't keep him. He probably has a family and people that love and miss him.

You receive another text from Natasha agreeing that he needs toys. You'd be happy to give them to him. You grab a few things that you think he'd like. Next is groceries. There's not much food at home, and you're definitely spending more than you anticipated, but you need it.

On the way home, you make a few calls.

First is Herbert Messing. He's a detective and one of your old college classmates. You check in to see if he's heard anything about a missing child.

"I haven't, not one that fits your description," Herbert denies. "Surely if he was truly lost someone would be looking for him by now. Send over a picture or bring him to the station."

"I can send a picture but bringing him to the station may be tough," You sigh. Natasha would be upset at you for texting and driving. You quickly send a picture at the red light. "I um, I think since it's technically Avengers business Ross might be on the case and..."

"And I know how snoopy he can be," Herbert sighs. "I'll see what I can do on my end but I make no promises."

"Thank you, love you a ton, bye." You hang up quickly. How could this little boy not have a family looking for him? Was this one of those rare cases where he's so far from home it'll take a while to find him?

Either way, you're not handing him over to Ross.

*************

Back home, Natasha is drifting off to sleep on the couch. The little one is still full of energy. He wants to tap her and ask her where you are. It's taking you longer than you said. You're right he can't tell time but it's beginning to feel like an eternity. He watches Natasha's face to make sure she is sleeping before he slides down from the couch. He tiptoes to the bathroom, then the kitchen, and finally the bedroom. Some of your clothes are still tossed about and there's a robe on the bed. He steps over to the bed to drag his fingers along the fabric. It's scratchy but soft. He likes it. He pulls himself onto the mattress, covering his entire body in the robe before he falls asleep.

***************

Less than a half-hour later you arrive back home with a dozen bags. You struggle the entire way into the private entrance before you manage to unlock it. You drop the bags near the front door to go find Natasha. She's asleep on the couch. Alone.

"Natasha, "You tap her. "Natasha." You say again and she sits up quickly. "Where's the little one?"

She makes a face of confusion before she looks around. "Fuck." She shakes her head. "Such a rookie mistake." She berates herself.

"The door was still locked so I doubt he left." You don't panic. You're the calm one. He can't be too far. You check the bathroom while Natasha checks the kitchen. You're running around your bedroom when you notice something is out of place. You walk closer, realizing it's him, fast asleep wrapped up in your robe. "Nat!" You call causing him to open his eyes. He whimpers, a sound sort of like a happy puppy reuniting with his owner, as he sits on his knees. Somehow you understand him. "I'm sorry. I took too long but I brought presents." You say and his eyes light up at the now-familiar word. Natasha walks into the room with a hand on her hip.

"I can't believe I fell asleep." She mutters and you wave her off.

"It happens," You say. "I think the little one would like to open his presents."

"Oh, yeah, we can do that." Natasha holds her hand out and he takes it. He's so willing to do everything you say. So far, he's perfect. Almost too perfect. You know Natasha has noticed it too. He moves and reacts as if he's been conditioned or programmed to. He doesn't really seem to oppose anything. Top that with not being familiar with pancakes or breakfast or even birthdays and presents. You don't know what you're dealing with.

You drag the bags into the living room where you pull out the toys first. All three of you sit on the floor, Natash pushing the coffee table aside so that you can have more room. The first thing you pull out of the bag is a fire truck toy. It's long and red and has a couple buttons to press. He simply looks at it.

"Has he ever played with a toy?" Natasha poses the question and you're having the same train of thought. She pushes it, showing him how to play with it and he seems interested enough. He crawls over to the toy, tapping it with his fingers, before turning it over. Natasha presses a button, causing the toy to light up, and the siren to sound. He doesn't like this at all. Instead of the happy reaction both of you were hoping for he backs away and doesn't stop until he's pressed against the couch.

"You don't like this one?" You ask remaining calm. Keep your voice soothing. Natasha calls it your doctor's voice. He shakes his head. He claps his hands over his ears. "It's too loud." You explain to Natasha. She flips the switch effectively killing the siren.

You try another toy, a ball, passing it to him to see his reaction. He turns it over his hands. He likes it.

"I talked to Herb," You say when he seems occupied enough. "There's nothing out there indicating he's a missing child. I called a couple others that I know and everything came up short." You inform her.

"On my end too," Natasha says. "They're doing a bit more digging into this lab. Visage had their hand in a lot of crooked pots. I don't know." She bites her lips.

"What's wrong?" You ask as you keep an eye on the boy.

"I don't know the whole thing was just too easy," Natasha shrugs. "It's a mission. Just like any other. We go in. We fight. We get out. Of course, there's always potential for them to torch things or destroy things. The lab was destroyed. Set on fire. There were these pods. I don't know what to call it. They looked like tanning beds or something but I- I can't describe it. Like it was out of a movie or something. It can't be a coincidence that he was left behind." She looks at him with a hard gaze. "He couldn't have just wondered over."

"Do you think someone left him on purpose?"

Natasha doesn't answer. She doesn't know truly.

"Well until then we have to give him a name to call him." You mull it over. "I don't want to keep calling him the boy."

"Do you have anything in mind?" She questions.

"I was thinking something simple but not like David or Jacob," You shake your head. "How about Micah?" You ask and his head turns towards you. Almost as if he's decided it's his name too.

"Would you want that to be your name?" Natasha catches his attention. He blinks at her offering her no indication that he agrees. He points to you.

"Yes," You nod. "My name is Y/n. Her name is Natasha. Your name could be Micah. Is that good?" You attempt to help him understand. He nods enthusiastically. Suddenly as if he just realizes something, he reaches into the bag and pulls out a white graphic tee with a colorful astronaut on it. He holds it up.

"I think he wants a bath," Natasha takes a wild guess. Micah looks down at himself and then back to the shirt.

"That's right it's yours," You encourage. "We could take a bath. Then you could wear it. How about that?" You smile. He nods again. You grab a few of the bath items to use as you all travel into the bathroom. Natasha makes herself useful by running the bath water. She adds a capful of your favorite bubble bath. You move to help Micah with his shirt when he slaps your hand away. His breathing increases and he backs away from you.

Natasha tilts her head, wondering what warranted that reaction, but you're not as confused.

"I'm sorry," You apologize sincerely. "I know you're a bit messy and we wanted to take a bath right? Did you want to take your shirt off alone?"

He shakes his head no. That perplexes you. Had something bad happened in the bath?

"It's not too hot," Natasha shows him by dipping her hand in. He looks to her and back to you.

"I could get in with you?" You try. He seems almost surprised by this. His shaking hands drop to his side. "There are bubbles so I won't see anything. I could show you how to bathe. It's fun."

He nods. You help him with his shirt this time before you strip yourself down to your t-shirt and underwear. It's not the most appropriate outfit but you needed to get him clean. You climb in first, before helping him in. It's then you notice the dark ink on his wrist. It's a branding of sorts. A tattoo. You look to see if Natasha saw. She has.

"He has a tattoo," You speak. You're sure now this company was up to more than any of you are ready for. You use a bit of soap to scrub against his skin to find it still there. Before Micah changes his mind you get to work scrubbing him quickly. He sits still, not showing any emotion, as you clean him. His hair is another story. It's more of a task to wash. You talk to him about your childhood dog to distract him. "Cookie was her name." You smile reminiscently. "She was the most loyal dog I've ever met." You say and he follows your movements with his eyes. "Tilt your head back." You use the cup Natasha gives you to rinse his hair. A little water gets to his face and he flinches. "Oh, I'm sorry," You reach for his towel and clean his face free. His hair is long and now that it's untangled it flows down his back.

"All done," Natasha holds out a towel. She helps him out, wrapping him up tightly before she sniffs him. "You smell good now." She grins before giving him thumbs up. When you step out to grab your own towel, he walks over to you and sniffs. He turns back to Natasha to give her a thumbs up. This causes her to give a belly laugh. "He thinks you smell good."

"Good to know." You nod. You run to your room to get dressed in dry clothes so that you can help Natasha. You come back and he already has the shirt, new shorts, and socks on his feet. He continues to rub his hands over the shirt, as if unfamiliar with the fabric before he drops them to his side. "It's cotton." You say before you bring over a brush for his hair. "Natasha's going to brush your hair."

He glances at her before nodding again. That would be fine. Natasha is gentle and quick. She makes sure not to pull too hard as she detangles. He stands patiently, his eyes trained on a speck on the floor, as you clean the bathroom. Natasha's phone rings in the distance and a small noise erupts from his throat.

"It's okay, it's just a phone," You furrow your brow. You go and grab it for Natasha and read the caller ID to her. "It's Steve." You trade Micah for the phone. He frowns when she leaves the room to take the call. "Micah, can I ask you some things?" You dip your head to catch his eyes. You take him to your bedroom where you help him onto the bed.

He keeps his hands in his lap.

"Did you have a family where you lived?" You ask. He doesn't seem to recognize the word. "Okay, a Mommy or Daddy?" He tilts his head. "A Mommy?" You guess and he shakes his head. "Do you know what that is?" He shakes his head again. "Okay, um," you find yourself fumbling a lot. All of your years of studying straight out of the window. "A mommy, some people call them Mama, is the woman that takes care of you. They feed you. Bathe you. Give you hugs. They make you feel safe. They keep you safe."

He presses his finger to your chest. Your heart breaks and is fixed back again at the gesture.

"I-I am not your Mama," You find yourself saying with a tinge of sadness. "I didn't give birth to you." You whisper. "Did you get lost?" You go through your list of questions. He either nods or shakes his head.

No. He doesn't have parents. No, he didn't get lost. Yes, he lived in the lab. Yes, he played games. No, he doesn't remember things from before. This leaves you at square one. You're thinking back to the bath, how afraid he was. The tattoo. Your mind flashes to every single SciFi movie you've ever seen and you're jumping to a big conclusion.

"They want us to bring him in for testing," Natasha tucks her phone into her pocket. "They have clues but Helen Cho wants to do some DNA testing."

"Natasha I think we should discuss what I think he is," You tell her.

"No time we need to do this now," She searches for her keys. "They're following a lead and we need to chase it before it runs cold." You know what she's doing. She's distancing herself. It is what she does to prepare herself from getting hurt. You know your wife better than anybody. From the moment she decided to bring him home you know she fell in love. You stand to stop her, gripping her by her forearms, to keep her in her place.

"Don't do this," You plead with her. "Don't check out yet. He still needs us no matter what happens. For all we know it's just testing. We know there's still a slim chance he may have a family and we can help him reunite with them."

"He doesn't," Natasha husks. She pulls you out of the bedroom noting how closely he's watching you. "They don't believe he ever had any or that he does but it's so complicated."

"So that trumps my theory of him being some sort of alien or supernatural being," You say. She frowns. "Don't knock it. It's not the craziest thing we would see."

"You're not too far off from what we've been thinking," Natasha looks over to him. "Tony and Steve are going to tell us when we get there."

"Guess we're taking a trip." You sigh.

So much for a peaceful day.

**************

The car ride to the compound turns out to be a completely new experience for Micah. He shields his eyes away from the natural light, and turns his face into your side, as he sits in the backseat with you. Maybe you should have put sunglasses on the list. You think you're more nervous than Natasha as you pull into the garage of the compound. You opt to carry him in with Natasha by your side. You’re welcomed into the lab, walking through familiar glass doors, to find the team all gathered.

"Great you're here," Tony claps his hands. "Now we can hand Kyle Xy over to Ross or the FBI and let them handle things."

"What does he mean?" You look to Natasha. You sit with Micah in your lap, not pushing him away, as he hides his face in your chest.

"Well, I'll let Helen do the talking," Steve says and Helen Cho stands. She's a geneticist and sometimes the go-to scientist for the rest of the team.

"So, we got a hold of Visage's old files," Helen begins as she clicks a button on the tiny remote in her hand effectively powering up the projector. Sam turns off the lights before going to sit in his chair. "Turns out one of their biggest cash cows was the process of cloning. Basically, they transfer the DNA of a human's somatic cell into another cell that's had its nucleus and DNA removed. Then that cell grows into an embryo and as we know forms a child."

"Like IVF?" Natasha questions and Helena moves her head from side to side.

"Sort of only the embryo isn't implanted into a woman's uterus," Helen clicks again and a grainy picture appears on the screen. "They were cloning humans. As I mentioned they keep the embryos in incubator-like pods for growth. The embryos grow at rapid rates according to their set time. Like a microwave of sorts. Only they're cryogenic chambers meant to keep them in stasis until the hosts need them."

"And who are these hosts?" You're trying to keep up.

"Other people. Humans. People with money or anyone willing to pay a pretty penny." Helen answers

"So what? it's illegal surrogacy?" Sam throws out and she doesn't respond.

"They were using these clones for medical reasons," Tony explains." It's one of Visage's biggest money-makers. Even more sinister than we thought. Basically, these billionaires pay a lot of money for a clone and their doppelganger is made with perfectly healthy organs and such. If they get sick or old or injured they use the body parts or organs for themselves. "

Micah shifts in your arms to peek over at everyone.

"So he's a clone?" You tilt your head.

"Essentially yes," Tony folds his arms under his chest.

"And what do they do with the clones once they get what they want?" Steve questions. He's not a fan of cryofreezing after being victim to it.

"They freeze them again or keep them in stasis," She clicks another photo showing the naked body of what seems to be a grown man as he's hooked up to an umbilical cord. The pod is filled with water as he floats. Micah runs from your lap to the screen. His breathing increases as he looks up at the screen. Does he remember something?

"Hey, kid, you recognize this? Tony asks. " Kid?"

"He doesn't talk," Natasha speaks for him.

"Can he?" Steve questions.

"Medically speaking, yes." Helen answers. "He's choosing not to."

"Selective mutism," You describe. "It happens for a lot of children with an anxiety disorder that visits the clinic. After something traumatic they stop speaking in certain situations."

"Would he be able to have an anxiety disorder all things considered?"

"I don't know," Helen admits. "For all intents and purposes, he is a normal child. He may not feel pain or emotion like one. Think of him as a robot if you will or a newborn infant. They released him too late."

"What do you mean too late?"

"The records we found and the tattoo on his wrist," Helen points. " Would indicate he already belongs to a host family. A wealthy diplomat and his wife. Their daughter needed a heart transplant due to a defect. She died before they could do the procedure."

"Is that not the same as having a baby to use for its sick sibling?" Steve points out.

"I'm inclined to say yes but..." Helen doesn't finish. "We were looking to run some tests on his organs and his brain."

"Did you contact this family?" You ask as Micah continues to stand at the front of the room.

"We did but due to privacy and status, they were unwilling to cooperate," Tony sighs. "They don't want to be caught up in something so out there. Crooks they are. We asked the if they would want to take in the boy."

"And what did they say?" Natasha sits up straight.

"They said that he had no soul," Helen says matter of factly. Micah looks up to her upon hearing those words. "That he's not real and they were washing their hands of the entire situation. They lawyered up. If the government comes after them they're willing to fight but they don't want a child that's not real to them."

"Jesus," You curse. "So what now?"

"I say we run the tests and hand him over to Ross," Tony throws his hands up in mock surrender. "We already have our hands full with everything else around here. No way can we take in a child."

You look over at Natasha pleadingly. No way would you be able to give him up. Natasha remains quiet. Has she changed her mind?

"We've set up the lab and can have tests back in a couple of hours."

"You're going to poke and prod a little boy?" You find yourself getting angry. "Run your tests on him and what? Throw him to the wolves because you have too much on your plate? How are you any better than those other people? Than Visage?"

No one says a word.

"We're not equipped to keep him. We don't know what can happen or how he will turn out," Steve begins so you stand in anger.

"Unbelievable," You shake your head with tears in your eyes. You can't stand to see this. You won't. You rush out of the lab and out to the courtyard. You need some air. Natasha follows you with a scowl on her face. Micah simply stands. Was he to follow you?

When she locates you, you turn away from her.

"Y/n," Natasha attempts to touch your shoulder and you yank out of her reach.

"Why did you bring him home?" You try to wipe the tears from your eyes. "Why did you do this? I was perfectly fine and I knew it could be something and..did you hear them talking about him? He doesn't have a soul? No emotions? They talked about him as if he wasn't even human. As if he isn't a child. A baby." You stop yourself from sobbing. You swipe angrily at your face.

"I know," Natasha sits next to you.

"It's only been a day but Nat," You whimper. " I can't stand by and let them do that." You shake your head. She remains silent.

It's Wanda that interrupts your moment together.

"They're ready to do the testing," She gauges your reaction. You can't really be mad at the teen for relaying the message. It was just a few years ago she was in the same predicament. "For what it's worth I think he would like you there."

You nodded. He would. You stand first, then Natasha, and you cradle her hand in yours. You could do this. You follow Wanda to the lab where she stands. Micah is seated on one of the metal tables. He's still in his astronaut shirt and red shorts. His expression is blank but his eyes follow every single person in the room. Tony and the rest of the team stand on one side of the room. You and Natasha on the other. Your fingers are pressed against the glass, watching in anticipation.

"Ross is on his way," Tony mentions, and your finger twitches. You've never wanted to commit a crime more than you did now.

You watch in trepidation as Helen Cho inspects the tattoo on his wrist. She holds out his arm as another scientist prepares to take blood. You don't turn away as the needle pricks his skin. You narrow your eyes when you spot the tiniest flinch from Micah. He could feel that? Almost like pain. Though he doesn't blink or move again. They take blood. They poke and they prod. Finally, they have to do tests on his brain.

No one else seems to see it but you can. The unease on the little boy's face as he allows them to attach chords to his head and his chest. There's one almost like a helmet and that's when you see it again. A flinch. He's been in this position before you deduce. He was birthed and grown in a lab. He knows what this is like and he doesn't like it.

His lips move almost as if he's mimicking a word but you can't quite make out what he's saying. It's over sooner than you know it. Next is another contraption that resembles an MRI machine.

"Keep still, 007." One of the scientists instructs him. They're calling him by the tattoo.

"His name is Micah." You mutter to yourself. You can feel Natasha's soothing hand on your back. Even then you can't calm down. As if by magic, you can feel another presence. You turn your head just slightly to find Ross and a few of his henchmen as you like to call them. They're strapped with guns and army gear. "You don't need all of that for a child." You find yourself saying aloud.

Ross's challenging expression sends chills down your spine. "You may think so but we don't know what we are dealing with. It's just a precaution." He explains before he approaches Tony. They converse quietly and you turn back to watch.

Micah's tiny hands are shaking and his lips are moving again. His head is moving even though he's been instructed to keep still.

"What's he saying?" You ask and Natasha removes her hand to step closer to the glass. "Nat, he doesn't like it in there." You inform her. "Let me go get him." Natasha doesn't want to be the one to stop you but she'd rather herself than someone else. You don't move just yet.

"No," You can hear a small voice. "No." He cries again and you know it's Micah. "Mama!" He yells and your heart soars. "Mama!" He screams at the top of his lungs. "Mama!" He screams again as he thrashes against the table. This stops everyone in their tracks. Even Ross. You rush around them, straight into the lab, and right over to Micah as he continues to cry out for his Mama. For you. He chose you. You don't hesitate to pick him up, pulling all of the wires from his body to toss them on the floor. Micah sobs as you cradle him to you. The only thing on your mind is him as you comfort him. You don't care who is watching. Your only priority is him.

"I'm real," He whispers into your neck. "I'm real." He repeats over and over. As if he’s trying to convince himself and you.

"I know, Micah, I know." You shush him. You can hear the cocking of a gun and a groan of pain behind you. You turn quickly to find Natasha has stripped one of Ross's henchmen of his gun, pointing it at his head while holding his arms behind his back.

"You even think about touching her and I will kill him," Natasha threatens everyone around you. Her voice is pure venom and you know she's serious. What have you gotten into? "I will kill you all."

"We just want the child." Ross raises his hands. "That's what we came here for."

"Y/n, do you really want to put your wife in danger for this?" Tony seems so chill about all of this. Suddenly he's going from a friend to an enemy. "Are you willing to risk her life for someone you just met last night?"

You feel the deep-seated guilt as your eyes travel around the room.

"I'm real," Micah sobs again and you let tears fall from your own eyes. "Mama." He pleads and your heart practically falls out of your chest. You can't let him go.

"He feels pain," You manage to say with a shaky breath. "When you poked him with that needle you noticed it didn't you?" You ask and the scientist looks away. He's too afraid to get involved but that's all the answer you needed. "He has emotions. You can see from how hard he's crying that he has fucking emotions." You growl and he whimpers again. You kiss his head before trying to calm yourself. "You can't just take him."

"He's property of the United States Government," Ross reminds you.

"Call your boss," Natasha demands. Ross begins to protest but she stops him. "Call him or I start shooting." She wraps her thumb tighter around the gun.

Ross dramatically sighs before pulling out his phone. He waits impatiently before the phone picks up. He looks perturbed as he gives a general explanation of what is going on.

"Let me speak to him," Natasha gestures and he looks at her as if she's crazy. Then, as if he was also asked to speak to Natasha, he passes the phone to her. He acts as if this is the most troubling thing he's ever seen. "Hi," She says roughly. "I can't let you do that." Natasha challenges. "You see you owe me a favor. Let's call it even." Natasha says. "You get your guys to go home. I keep the boy." Natasha stops to listen, glancing over at you before she looks back to the phone. "When I take him home you don't come after us. You don't try again later. You leave him." She clearly instructs. She releases the gun. Lowering it to her side. She slides the phone back to Ross.

He takes it, hoping to come out victorious, only for there to be a frown on his face again. He nods his head a few times, giving a yes every other minute before he finally hangs up.

"Wrap it up boys, he's going with them," Ross sighs. "This isn't over Romanoff." He says before they storm out. The henchman reaches for his gun and Natasha points it at his head again. How was he expecting to get that back?

She watches them leave, making sure they're a safe distance before she steps over to you.

"Is he okay?" She asks and you nod.

"Micah, sweetie, can you let me look at you?" You ask as you set him down on the table. His eyes are wet and his face screws into a big pout.

"I'm real," He comments again. You nod while fixing his hair.

"You are real." You say. "Nat, what do we do?"

"We live our lives as usual," She says and your eyes flash to hers. "The favor is in. I called it. Still have to keep watch. They're going to come after him eventually."

"Nat, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to be-"

"For better or for worse right," Natasha shrugs. "If you truly believe everything and you want him we can keep him."

"He's not an animal," You remind her. She silently scolds herself.

"I know I just... I brought him home and I want him too." She ultimately admits. You nod. You could live with that. You pick him up again, walking around the forgotten wires, to exit the building.

"Tony, you're dead to me," Natasha doesn't even look his way as she walks with you. Her eyes scan the area, making sure no one is going to stop you, as you head towards the garage. When you're at the car, you climb in, buckling him in, before Natasha turns with a gun drawn to whoever has been following you. "Wanda!" She curses before she tucks it away. You step out of the car to come around.

"I want to go with you," She insists.

"We're just going home," Natasha says.

"Bullshit," Wanda argues. "You're running."

Your eyes dart to your wife. You know but even still would she admit that to Wanda?

"Wanda, you're sixteen," Natasha says.

"So," Wanda shrugs. "I don't want this family if you're not there."

There's a silence where you and Natasha think it over. Wanda would never forgive you if you said no.

"Get in," Natasha relents and you all jump into action. Wanda hops into the front seat and you in the back just as the rest of the team enters the garage. Natasha starts the car and drives as fast and as safely as she can. She continues to your apartment where you all enter. "Pack your things quickly. Don't take what you don't need." She says. She grabs a few duffel bags while you head to your bedroom. Micah is left to sit with Wanda. You pack important papers, passports, documents, and other things.

Micah slides down from the couch over to the toys you left out. He taps at the fire truck, before pressing the button, not flinching this time as the siren goes off. You step out of the bedroom to see him so calm.

Were you really doing this?

"You ready?" Natasha exits the bathroom with a bag full.

"Y-yeah," You nod before going to grab your own packed bags. You rush the kids out of the door and down the stairs again. That's the last you would see of your apartment.

******************

Three months later... "Mom, he's refusing to come inside again," Wanda calls out as she sets the table for dinner.

"Again with this boy," You shake your head as you turn off the stove. "Where's Natasha?"

Wanda shrugs. You wipe your hands on your jeans to exit through the backdoor. You're about to give Micah a light scolding when you spot him in the grass, picking something, not aware of your presence. He looks up as the back door slams. He gives you a wide smile. His cheeks are dirty, he's not wearing shoes, and his shorts have grass stains. Even still he looks adorable.

He runs over to you with something behind his back.

"What you got there, buddy?" You ask as you kneel down. His smile grows even wider.

"Present, Mama." He says before he holds out his hand. Small yellow flowers that he picked from the grass. It's the best present you've ever received.

[hyunsvngs]

Please it's my biggest kink too!! Wolfgang didn't help at all omg. Help there are so many asks with a/b/o! Where do I start.

What about the boys being with you for your heat for the first time?

-🦇

OKKK so i thought the best way to do this would be to name what i think they’d be a/b/o-wise too before i describe it. under the cut bc long & not for everyone!!

chan: alpha

the whole room is hot. you’re sure it’s become stifling in a matter of five minutes, sweat beginning to form on your brow and an itching underneath your skin. your boyfriend seems unaffected, working away on the computer at a track he’s been staring at for hours. huffing, you get up, stalking over to the thermostat and checking to see if the heat had clicked on.

it’s off. huh.

“weird,” you mumble, and the noise of your feet stomping back over to the leather couch catches chan’s attention. he pulls the headphones from his ears, slinging them around his neck and giving you a warm smile.

“you alright, baby?”

“it’s so fucking hot in here. are you warm?” you question. you rip your t-shirt off to leave you in a sports bra, your chest wet with sweat. chan blinks, and then his nose is scrunching up. then, his eyes go wide.

“you’re in heat…?” he says. it’s semi-questioning and semi-declarative. he’s confused. you’re confused. you weren’t due until…

you pick up your phone, blinking at the date. oh, yeah. today. you’re due today.

“oh,” you say, rather intelligently. “i’m in heat.”

when you turn to chan, he’s sweating too. you know what omega pheromones can do to alphas - you can see the visual effect of it. more importantly, you can now feel the itching under your skin turning into a burning hot need. suddenly, chan is looking absolutely delectable, especially since his cock is now chubbing up in his pants and you can fucking see it. you had never fucked during your heat before, chan saying it was way too risky given the way alphas can get - but it’s beginning to seem like it’s happening today.

chan notices your eyeline, before he’s sighing, rubbing his temples. he spins the chair around to look at you. you’re covered in sweat, sports bra sticky. “we are not fucking in my studio.”

it’s a suggestion, not a statement. you know you will be. “but imagine how good it’d be for everyone to know that i’m your omega, channie.” chan’s eyes go wide.

“get over here,” you’re quick to raise from your seat, prancing over to him and perching in his lap. he catches your hips, before he’s lowering you onto his bulge, letting out a sharp breath at the feeling of you. “jesus, you’re- do you always get this wet in heat?”

“mm, yeah. ‘s so much more, channie, so much slick to get your cock nice and wet,” you’re purring, nuzzling into his scent gland. the smell of salt water and sand fills your nostrils and you’re whining, pressing your nose further into him. “you gonna give your omega your knot, alpha? need it, need you to breed me.”

“oh my god, baby, you’re going to fucking kill me.”

minho: alpha

you wake up from the heat. it’s so fucking warm. the blanket’s been pushed off of you, pooling around your ankles, and the smell of chocolate is sharp in the room. you turn to look at your boyfriend, expecting to see him sleeping peacefully, but his eyes are dark and set on you.

“you’re in heat, omega,” you whine, nodding. you were, and it was impossible to deny from the pheromones you were pumping out. “i’ll help you build a nest and i’ll go. okay?”

no. no. alpha can’t go. your brain goes fuzzy, pressing your whole body into him. he’s in just his boxers, and you can feel his cock hard, aching and leaking through the fabric. “can alpha stay? need your knot, please, please-“

“baby, you’re not in the right mind for this,” his voice is soft, despite the firmness of the statement. he lets you lay on top of him nonetheless, trying to ignore the rivulets of slick dripping through your pyjama pants and onto him. his hands are rubbing small circles on your lower back, just making your pussy leak even more. “i can’t-“

“please! min, we’ve talked about it. you said you would, you said you’d help me, you said i wouldn’t have to do it alone and it’s so warm, so warm, alpha-“

you squeak when he rolls you over, pinning your hips to the bed with a growl. “you want my knot that badly? you’re really begging for it?” you nod, eyes feeling bleary at the pressing of his length against your clothed pussy. minho sighs, before he’s yanking your pyjama shorts off and pulling his boxers down. you can see his knot beginning to form already, a bump underneath his long, thick cock. you whine, shifting to try and catch him inside of your hole.

“need it,” you whimper when he’s positioning his cock at your entrance. “feel how wet i am, min, ‘s so wet, see? need it-“

he’s groaning as he pushes inside of you, hand falling beside your head. “that’s fucking wet, shit. you want my knot, omega? not gonna last long in this wet pussy, fuck-“

“yeah, want your knot, breed me-“

“filthy,” he muses, his lips landing on yours in a mess of spit and teeth. his hips are sharp, thrusting against you with a senee of urgency and you’re broken, just letting out little ‘ah’ noises with every thrust. “i’ll give you my knot, baby. don’t have to beg.”

changbin: beta

changbin’s perfect. the perfect best friend. he’s just as much omega as he is alpha, which makes his secondary gender so perfect - he’s buff, strong like an alpha, but as soft and lovely as an omega. he’s perfect, and that’s why you decided to spend your heat with him.

he’d offered a few times, and you’d only recently accepted for him to spend your next heat with him. now, he stands at your door, plastic bag of snacks and drinks in hand.

the smell of sandalwood is strong. normally, it’s much more muted given his status, but your heat has your senses heightened. you yank him in by his wrist, getting a little ‘mph- what?!’ out of changbin, before you’re pulling him into the living room. the bag is forgotten on the floor.

changbin’s giggling when you’ve managed to press him against the couch. you’re almost embarrassed by your need, but it’s so easy with changbin - he’s grinning, just letting you grind against his hips.

“at least take me out to dinner first, baby,” you groan at his quip, and then you’re pressing your lips against his, practically shoving your tongue in his mouth. he’s shocked when you break away, but a cocky smile still remains on his lips. “alright. ‘s it that bad?”

“so bad, binnie, and you smell really nice… i-“

he’s flipping you over, using next to no strength as he pushes you back against your sofa. “binnie..?”

“i’ve gotchu. just lay back and let binnie take care of his baby.”

hyunjin: beta

he was so beautiful. so beautiful and so, so fucking oblivious - you’d been making out with him for a while now, grinding on his lap, slicking all over his upper thighs and he’s still yet to even notice. your boyfriend was certified oblivious.

you pull away, licking your lips. you’re just gonna have to tell him. “hyunjin, i’m in heat.”

his eyes go wide. he’s blinking at you in shock, lips parted and kiss bitten, and then he’s grinning. “that makes sense. you smell delicious.”

“hyunjin, betas can’t really smell-“ you’re cut off by him pushing your underwear to the side, two long fingers filling you up deliciously. his scent is stronger now, aroused, the smell of rose petals engulfing your senses. betas can’t really smell omegas - they may be able to smell something slightly is when the omega in question is in heat, but other than that, it’s mostly just muted notes of a scent. you still strongly believe he should’ve been able to tell, given how wet you are.

“you smell delicious,” he insists, curling his fingers up to hit your g-spot. you’re whining, squirming on his lap, and you’re about two seconds away from cumming already. heat makes you so much more sensitive, and your thighs are shaking on top of your beautiful, beautiful boyfriend.

“hyunjin, i need-“

“ssh. ssh, omega, i’m here. after you cum nice and hard for me, i’ll give you my cock. how’s that sound?”

jisung: omega

“jesus, you stink in a good way,” jisung’s quip falls on deaf ears. it’s so comforting being an omega with an omega boyfriend - you can help eachother out during your heats and there’s zero room for embarrassment. now, though, he seems to not be getting the message. you practically jump on top of him, nosing at his scent gland and letting citrus fill your nose. he squeaks in surprise, throwing his phone aside where he was watching another documentary. “baby, what are- oh. heat.”

“mm, heat, need you,” you agree, and jisung is smiling fondly before he presses a kiss to your mouth. “need your cock, need- i’ll finger you too, i just-“

“ssh, my baby. it’s okay, sungie’s here. yeah?” you nod, letting him wiggle his joggers down. his length springs out, cute drippy cock nestled inbetween your bodies, and you’re immediately whining. he lets out a small laugh, shifting your own joggers down, and then your bare core is pressed on top of him. “oh, you are wet, baby. how long have you been like this?”

you whimper when he’s lowering your hips down on top of him, your slick core providing no pain and only pleasure. “only- only kicked in a few minutes ago, please, sungie-“

“c’mon, bounce on me. i’ve got you,” you nod, hands resting on his shoulders as you start to work yourself on his cock. he’s letting you ride him, small whines coming out of him everytime you let your slick hole engulf him fully. “oh, baby. ‘s it good?”

you nod again, citrus filling your senses and making you feel so, so comforted and so full. jisung’s whining loudly when you let the tip of him brush against your cervix, and then you’re blinking in shock. the citrus is strong. his dick is very hard, and feels very wet, and- he’s slicking up. you can smell it dripping onto the couch.

“sungie, you’re.. you’re in heat too, baby.”

“mm- yeah, i know, you- you fucking sent me into heat on top of me like this, shit,” he’s laughing, but his eyes are half lidded, round cheeks blushing with the temperature. “okay. okay, you gotta cum, then we’ll work it out, ‘kay?”

you let out a loud moan, starting to bounce on him at a quicker pace. “y-you gotta cum too, sungie.”

“of course, baby. let me fill you up and we’ll talk.”

felix: omega

it was so bizarre to have your best friend kissing around your thighs like this. you’d been intending to stay over at his house for a while, and because the world hates you, you’d gone into an unexpected heat in his bed. luckily, felix was more than happy to help - his tongue was currently swiping through the slick that had accumulated all over you.

“tell me what you need,” he muses, two dainty fingers sliding into your sopping hole. you whine, shifting to get more friction.

“well, need- knot, but-“

“i know. i’ve got a knotting toy i can fuck you with, baby. it’s all clean. is that okay?” you moan, nodding at his words. then, something even more bizarre crosses your mind - yours and lix’s slick mixing together, fucking into eachother and just generally getting all messy. you clench at the thought, and felix lets out a low chuckle. “you thinking of me being in heat, baby?”

“hnng- yeah. yeah. i a-am, and-“

“and you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he’s shifted now, lips pressing against your ear while his fingers pump into you. the smell of cinnamon is all too consuming, making you inch closer to your climax. “go on. cum for me.”

the orgasm that takes over your body is blinding. you’re clenching around felix’s fingers, whining, gushing slick all over his hand. you can hear felix whispering in your ear, coaxing you through it with praises and a little “there you go”. once you come to, you’d expected a little reprieve, but the heat that takes over your body once again is overwhelming.

“lixie…” you trail off, staring into his dark eyes. his scent is spiking when he sucks your slick into his mouth from his fingers.

“let’s get you that toy.”

seungmin: beta

you’d always questioned why seungmin wasn’t an alpha. he was sure of himself, broad and full in that stereotypical alpha way - but when you got closer to him, started dating him, you realised why. he was soft, considerate in the most private settings - especially now when he’s fucking you through the first heat you’ve spent together.

“‘s big, seungie,” you whine. he’s got you on all fours, head down in the pillows while you let out loud noises. of course he’d have you present yourself for him.

“yeah? is it big enough for you, omega?” you nod into the pillows, whining when he punches another orgasm out of you. it was the… fourth? fifth? you weren’t sure, but you knew you’d never had a heat this satisfying with any alpha. suddenly, seungmin’s leaning over you, his vanilla scent strong. his broad hand wraps around your neck, clenching on the sides expertly. his hips are rippling the flesh on your ass with how hard he’s fucking into you. “is it good?”

“so good, seungie, i can’t handle it- i can’t, i can’t, i can’t ever do another heat on my own, can’t-“

“you won’t have to,” he’s groaning, the wet sounds from your pussy overpowering. “i’m gonna fuck you good every fucking heat. gonna breed you, yeah? you gonna let me fuck my pups into you?”

it was illogical, you knew that. it wasn’t the right time, but god did his statement have heat burning in your gut even stronger - if it was possible.

“yeah! gimme pups, please, i’ve been good!”

“okay, okay. greedy bitch, i’ll give you my cum.”

jeongin: alpha

you and jeongin are both young. you’d only presented a matter of two years ago, and you’d gotten together around a year after. now, your heat was due, and you and him had decided you’d spend it together. after all, how hard could it be, right?

you were wrong.

because now, your alpha boyfriend had given you what seemed like the umpteenth orgasm within an hour. you were positively gushing, and he hadn’t even knotted you yet. his scent of lavender was drowning you, making you just need, need, need.

“please, alpha, i need it,” you whine when he jeongin ducks down to kiss your clit again, his lips pouty. you squirm until he eventually gets his head up to look at you. his eyes are dark, lips parted.

“i need to take care of you.” ah, yes. the basic alpha instinct was coming through, and jeongin could think of nothing better than making you cum a lot of times to make sure you’re ‘taken care of’. it was ridiculous, actually, because the thing you wanted the most was his knot.

“innie, i need a knot or it won’t break, i won’t calm down. it’s so warm, so warm, please-“

jeongin huffs, his bulge suddenly pressing against you. it’s bigger than you thought, chubbed up and solid as a rock. “you think you can take it?”

when you nod, he’s inching his boxers down and revealing a delicious length, knot swollen with need. before you can even speak, he’s pressing it inside of you and the breath is punched from your lungs. it’s so big, so swollen inside of you.

“hnng, it’s too big, innie, i can’t…”

jeongin scoffs, shaking his head. “no. you said you could take it, so you need to let me take you like the good breeding bitch you are, yeah?”

[watercolorfreckles]

Winter's Kiss - Part 2

Sorry I'm rusty but I had a nice time working on this!

Part 1

Most people assumed that having ice powers meant Villain was immune to the cold. Surely being surrounded by her element only comforted and empowered her further.

What it really meant was that Villain had never truly been warm in her life. Always haunted by a biting chill that rooted in her bones and flooded her veins.

The summer months were easy enough for her to stay regulated in. Her body naturally fended off the scathing blaze of summer sun, meeting something close enough to equilibrium that she didn't have to shiver.

Winter was different. The scales dipped in one, unanimous direction. There was nothing to balance the overwhelming cold, steely and all-encompassing.

Thus, fighting on an icy rooftop, bitter wind stinging her cheeks, and frost clinging to her lashes, did not put her in a particularly amiable mood.

“Shouldn't you be wearing a coat?” she snapped at her nemesis, fighting off the urge to tremble as ice shot to life in her numbed palms. 

Hero landed neatly in front of her, blushy nose and pink ears the only indicator that the weather affected him at all. His lips bloomed in a too-pleased smile. “Nope. The new suit has intelligent thermal-regulatory technology. In other words, I'm toasty as…uh…toast. Shouldn’t you?”

Villain’s gaze flicked over him. She could see, now, the steam radiating around him from his stupid heated costume.

Her skin ached for a taste of that kind of blanketing warmth.

A coat did her little good when the cold stemmed from the inside out. She hated him for it. Her glare was as sharp as the icicles in her hands.

Hero stepped closer and his smug smile faltered. He looked her over in turn. “Are you….cold?”

If she could glare any harder, her eyes would bleed.

“My entire existence is cold, I have never not been cold,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now let's wrap this up, Sunshine, so that I can go home and set the thermostat to 85° and hope that maybe, just maybe, I can take the edge off this- this corpse-numb, never-ending, godforsaken winter!”

Her bones felt only distantly attached to her body, dull and torpid as a rotting log.

She took a step toward him and her knees buckled beneath her. Hands caught her waist, lowering her to the ground.

Her breath caught up in lungs scraped raw, mind sweeping blank. All she could focus on was the delightfully warm palms against her sides.

“Villain?” Hero’s brow knitted in concern. Pulling one of his gloves off with his teeth, Hero touched a hand to Villain's cheek before wincing and shaking the icy sting from his bare fingers. “Sh*t, Villain, you're beyond freezing.”

Villain was barely listening. She reached for him as if magnetized, clutching at the heat emanating from his chest. Something pathetically close to a whimper slipped free at the barest fraction of relief, dropping her face against the blazing hollow of his neck.

Hero hissed against the no-doubt unbearable cold of her skin against his. She couldn’t bring herself to care, and he didn’t shove her away. 

There was a pause.

“.....Let the record show that you’re the one cuddling me this time.”

Villain scowled. “Shut up.” Her fingers flexed against the smooth fabric of his suit. “This is- is just temporary, and then I’m going to stab you in the face.”

Fingers stroked her hair, brushing the accumulating snowflakes away. There was a click and shuffle as Hero shifted, wrapping her trembling form up in his cape. 

“Stab me tomorrow. We’ll rain check.” Scooping her into his arms, Hero stood up.

“Hey-”

“Don’t worry, babe.” Hero’s stupid sunny smile was back, teasing and prettier than she cared to admit. “We’re nemeses with benefits, I don’t actually want you dead. Most of the time.”

Villain’s cheeks might have warmed if she could feel them. Her teeth chattered. “Sp- Speak for yourself, Sunshine. And don’t say nemeses with benefits. You’re em- embarrassing me.”

Hero’s feet lifted off of the ground and they were moving through the air. Villain glanced down at the world below them before shielding her face from the abusive wind with his cape.

He could drop her to shatter on the pavement. Fragile as ice.

They touched down minutes later, and Villain didn’t bother to pull the cape away from her face to check where they were. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, Hero wouldn’t put her down… She couldn���t imagine peeling herself away from the shallow reprieve of his body warmth.

Hero shifted Villain’s weight into one arm. Metal jangled, followed by the rustling of a doorknob. Pushing it open with his foot, she felt Hero cross the threshold.

Peeking through the threads of Hero’s cape, warm lamplight washed the room in a honey glow as he clicked on the light. He shut the door and locked it. 

Her ears perked up at the familiar crackle of flames dancing nearby. She tugged the cape down just below her eyes, still blanketing her nose and cheeks.

Hero chuckled. “That got your attention.” He pulled a chair in front of the fireplace and sat down with her puddled in his lap. His free hand smoothed back her hair, staticky from his cape. “Better?”

The glorious heat rolled over them in waves, and Villain bared her pink fingers toward it, eyes fluttering closed. “Mmm.”

Lips summer-hot and gentle pressed against her jaw. Warmth sparked low in her belly for an entirely new reason. Her breathing stuttered, turning her face toward his.

Hero took an icy hand in his, blowing warm breath against her knuckles.

The bone-deep ache began to thaw. Her eyes glued to his.

Her beautiful, insufferable,.. kind idiot.

She leaned in. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

A haughty and fond smile lit up his face. “Kill me when winter ends.”

Eyes flitting down to his perfect mouth, Villain caught his searing lips with her own. They chased the chill away together.

Neither of them wanted winter to end.

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl, @valiantlytransparentwhispers, @distance-does-not-matter @redbircl, @lilaccatholic, @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @thelazywitchphotographer @chibicelloking, @lolafaiy, @thinkwrite5, @putridghost @tobeornottobeateacher @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @feyriddle, @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1, @distractedlydistracted @pensivespacepirate, @appleejuicee, @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42, @m0chik0furan, @mercurymomentum, @fairysprinkles , @vuvulia, @amongtheonedaisy, @rose-pinkie, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room, @scorpio-smiles , @inkygemuwu , @wolfeyedwitch , @thewhumpmeisterx3000, @ikiiryo , @lem-hhn , @fanastywhump , @smallangryfish , @ladybookworm @freefallingup13 , @acaiaforrest , @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict , @talkingsperm , @qualitychaoslover , @deckofaces ,@7eselt , @annablogsposts , @lunatic-moss-studio , @medusas-hairband

[justforbooks]

Daniel Dennett

Controversial US philosopher who sought to understand and explain the science of the mind

Daniel Dennett, who has died aged 82, was a controversial philosopher whose writing on consciousness, artificial intelligence, cognitive science and evolutionary psychology helped shift Anglo-American philosophy from its focus on language and concepts towards a coalition with science.

His naturalistic account of consciousness, purged as far as possible of first-person agency and qualitative experience, has been popular outside academia and hotly opposed by many within it.

One of the so-called Four Horsemen of New Atheism, along with Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens and Sam Harris, he also wrote on Darwinism, memes, free will and religion.

“Figuring out as a philosopher how brains could be, or support, or explain, or cause, minds” was how Dennett, aged 21, defined his project. Having gained a philosophy degree at Harvard University in 1963, he was then doing a BPhil at Oxford University under the behaviourist philosopher Gilbert Ryle, but spent most of his time in the Radcliffe science library learning about the brain.

Many philosophers were (as they still are) trying to accommodate the mind, and its subjectivity, in third-person science. Yet it seems impossible to identify “intentionality” (the “aboutness” of thoughts) or “qualia” (the “thusnesses” of experience) as nothing but brain states or behaviour.

In dealing with “intentionality”, Dennett, however, had a novel strategy – “first content, then consciousness” – that reversed the usual line of enquiry. He proposed “to understand how consciousness is possible by understanding how unconscious content is possible first”.

Nature, he argued, has its own unwitting reasons – “free-floating rationales” that are “independent of, and more fundamental than, consciousness”. The ability of organisms to respond appropriately, if unconsciously, to things in the environment is a “rudimentary intentionality”. And, over aeons, the “blind, foresightless, purposeless process of trial and error” has knitted “the mechanical responses of ‘stupid’ neurons” (in certain creatures’ brains) into a “reflective loop [that] creates the manifest illusion of consciousness,” he thought. “Mind is the effect, not the cause.” As spiders mindlessly spin webs, homo sapiens has spun “a narrative self”.

What Ryle had dismissed as “the ghost in the machine” could thus be exorcised, not by denying its existence but by seeing it for what it is – a conjuring trick rather than magic, an illusion fabricated by what (in his 1995 book Darwin’s Dangerous Idea) he called evolution’s “reverse engineering”.

Dennett’s first book, Content and Consciousness was published in 1969. Sixteen other books and numerous papers adapted and extended its thesis – that intentionality can be ascribed, along a spectrum with no clear dividing line, impartially to minds, human brains, bees, computers, thermostats: it is a functional relation between object and environment. As to exactly when, in evolutionary or personal history, conscious intentionality arose, “don’t ask,” he said.

We can take what he called a “physical stance” towards something (considering its constituents and their causal interlockings) or a “design stance” (seeing it as fabricated, by evolution or humans, to serve a particular function) or an “intentional stance” (explaining its behaviour in terms of goals that it would sensibly pursue if it were rational).

“The intentional stance is thus a theory-neutral way of capturing the cognitive competences of different organisms (or other agents) without committing the investigator to overspecific hypotheses about the internal structures that underlie the competences.” We treat chess-playing computers, some animals and humans, as if they had beliefs and desires. But, he was furiously asked, don’t we humans actually have them?

Yes and no, apparently. There is no one-to-one match between brain states and mental states. It is the creature as a whole that has intentionality. The discrete individually identifiable mental states that we seem to be having are (in reality) “an edited and metaphorialised version of what’s going on in our brains” – equivalent to “user illusions” on a computer screen: like the hourglass, folder and dustbin icons, they betoken the complex processes occurring behind the scenes.

“No part of the brain is the thinker that does the thinking, or the feeler that does the feeling,” said Dennett, nor is, or does, the brain as a whole. Instead there are “multiple channels in which specialist circuits try, in parallel pandemoniums, to do their various things, creating multiple drafts as they go” – until, from among “concurrent contentful events in the brain … a select subset of such events ‘wins’ … The way to explain the miraculous-seeming powers of an intelligent intentional system is to decompose it into hierarchically structured teams.” These consist of “relatively ignorant, narrow-minded, blind homunculi that produce the intelligent behaviour of the whole”.

“Yes we have a soul but it’s made of lots of tiny robots” was the headline of an article about him in the Italian newspaper Corriere della Sera, and Dennett endorsed it with amusement. He loved making furniture, building fences, mending roofs, tinkering with cars and boats; and, among the many things he constructed were sets of nested Russian dolls to illustrate his philosophy. The outside doll was “Descartes”; inside that was “the Middle Ghost” (a reference to Ryle’s) – but inside that was a “Robot”. “We are not authorities about our own consciousness,” he said. The robot is masked by the ghost.

Dennett pronounced qualia to be illusions. Ever since Descartes, we have tended to assume that we have “mental images”, as if, said Dennett, we could view little pictures, visible only to ourselves in an inner “Cartesian theatre”.

If so, we should be able to count the number of stripes on the tiger we are imagining, and say whether we have been seeing it face-on or sideways. No such definite information is available. Mental images are indeterminate in a way that pictures cannot be, and closer to generalised linguistic descriptions. So limited and poor is our access to our own conscious experiences, said Dennett, that it “does not differ much from the access another person can have to those experiences – your experiences – if you decide to go public with your account”. Indeed “our first-person point of view of our own minds is not so different from our second-person point of view of others’ minds”. We take an intentional stance on ourselves.

Dennett’s views remained pretty consistent throughout numerous books and papers, but in recent years he became more lenient towards mental imagery. He was impressed by neuroscientific research suggesting that there are specific observable brain activities that potentially may be decoded as imaging processes.

And, having been stern in denying what is disparagingly called “folk psychology” (a term he invented), he began to describe himself as “a mild realist” about mental states, prepared to concede that “the traditional psychological perspective” is not merely something described by third-person observers.

Avoiding accusations that he smuggled in the subjectivity he so adamantly denied, Dennett had recourse to “memes”, a concept (invented by Dawkins) modelled on that of genes. Memes are units of cultural practice, including anything from language to drama to wearing a baseball cap backwards to clapping as a form of praise. They are, in Dennett’s words, ‘“prescriptions” for ways of doing things that can be transmitted to, and from, human brains, and that “have their own reproductive fitness, just like viruses”. We are infected by memes, and it is “the memes invasion … that has turned our brains into minds”.

Dennett also applied a Darwinian approach to free will. “A billion years ago, there was no free will on this planet, but now there is. The physics has not changed; the improvements in ‘can do’ over the years had to evolve.” We are now able to predict probable futures, and to pursue or avert them. We are not deluded about having that capacity; as we are, he fulminated, about religion. Breaking the Spell (2006) was judiciously named. That was what he was urging religious people to do.

Born in Boston, Dennett spent the first five years of his life in Lebanon. His father, also Daniel, was a counter-intelligence officer posing as a cultural attache to the American embassy in Beirut. He died in a plane crash in 1947 (later, Dennett’s sister, the investigative journalist Charlotte Dennett, would claim Kim Philby’s connivance in it). Dennett’s mother, Ruth Leck, a teacher and editor, took the children back to Massachusetts.

Reprieved from matching up to his father’s expectations, Dennett said, he nonetheless grew up in his father’s shadow. But little could sap his exuberant self-confidence. Characteristically, the title of his 1991 book was Consciousness Explained.

In 1959, having just begun a maths degree at Weslyan University, Connecticut, Dennett read Willard van Orman Quine’s From a Logical Point of View. He was so excited that he decided “to be a philosopher, and go to Harvard and tell this man Quine why he is wrong”. The first two he managed, though for a time he worried that Quine (later a great friend) was more interested by Dennett’s sculpture than his philosophising.

Dennett did contemplate being a sculptor, and would, he said, certainly have studied engineering had his family not been so arts-oriented. Co-director of the Center for Cognitive Studies at Tufts University in Massachusetts, in 1993 he joined the Humanoid Robotics Group at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology to construct a robot (Cog) that would be not only intelligent but conscious. The project ended in 2003, and Cog was retired to a museum.

Dennett was Austin B Fletcher professor of philosophy at Tufts, and visiting professor at a host of other universities, including Oxford and the London School of Economics. His memoir, I’ve Been Thinking, was published in 2023.

He and his wife, Susan (nee Bell), whom he married in 1962, lived in North Andover, Massachusetts, and he also hobby farmed in Maine for more than 40 summers, blissfully “tillosophising” on a tractor, sailing his boat Xanthippe, fixing buildings and digging drains. Dennett loved solving puzzles and disinterring the inner workings of machines – above all those of “the miraculous-seeming” mind. “No miracles allowed,” he said.

He is survived by Susan, a daughter, Andrea, and son, Peter, and six grandchildren, and his sisters, Cynthia and Charlotte.

🔔 Daniel Clement Dennett, philosopher, born 28 March 1942; died 19 April 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[warningsine]

Google laid off hundreds of workers in several divisions Wednesday night, seeking to lower expenses as it focuses on artificial intelligence and joining a wave of other companies cutting tech jobs this year.

The Silicon Valley company laid off employees in its core engineering division, as well as those working on the Google Assistant, a voice-operated virtual assistant, and in the hardware division that makes the Pixel phone, Fitbit watches and Nest thermostat, three people with knowledge of the cuts said.

Several hundred employees from the company’s core engineering organization lost corporate access and received notices that their roles were eliminated, two of the people said. Google said that most of the hardware cuts affected a team working on augmented reality, technology that combines the real world with a digital overlay.

“We’ve had to make some difficult decisions about ongoing employment of some Google employees and we regret to inform you that your position is being eliminated,” the company told some workers in the division, according to the text of an email reviewed by The New York Times.

Google confirmed the Assistant cuts, earlier reported by Semafor, and the hardware layoffs, earlier reported by the blog 9to5Google.

“We’re responsibly investing in our company’s biggest priorities and the significant opportunities ahead,” a Google spokesman said in a statement. After cuts throughout the second half of 2023, “some teams are continuing to make these kinds of organizational changes, which include some role eliminations globally.”

The cuts continue a trend of tech layoffs, after large companies such as Google, Meta and Amazon laid off thousands of workers last year. Ten days into this year, more companies have announced job cuts. Earlier Wednesday, Amazon shed hundreds of workers from its Twitch streaming service, Prime Video and MGM studios. Xerox said this month that it would cut 15 percent of its 23,000-person staff, and the video game software provider Unity Software said it would eliminate 1,800 roles, or 25 percent of its work force.

At Google, Sundar Pichai, the chief executive, has pushed the company since July 2022 to sharpen its focus and to reduce expenses as global economic conditions deteriorated. In January 2023, Google shed 6 percent of its work force, or 12,000 people, in the largest layoffs that the company has conducted. Since then, executives at the company have said they would try to significantly reduce costs, as it focuses on the growing field of generative artificial intelligence.

Google, which had 182,000 employees as of Sept. 30, said the layoffs on Wednesday were part of a set of reorganizations that were made in the normal course of business.

The Alphabet Workers Union, a group representing more than 1,400 workers at Google’s parent company, Alphabet, described the layoffs as “needless.”

“Our members and teammates work hard every day to build great products for our users, and the company cannot continue to fire our co-workers while making billions every quarter,” the group said in a post on the social media site X.

[undoundue]

the sexual act

jakob and anathema lay in bed: jakob over the covers, anathema under.

“you know,” jakob said like a thief, “freud once said that every sexual act involves four people. the two lovers, and each lover’s projected fantasy of the other.” 

“only four?” anathema said mildly.

jakob’s brows became anxious. see, jakob? that’s what you get for trying to be clever while naked. “yeah, only four. unless you got more?”

“i read, i don’t remember where, maybe lacan, that it takes a minimum of nine.”

“nine!?”

“mmm-hmm.” and she yawned.

ah, anathema: you’re one of those girls who hates to try, but loves to win. how brittle your seashell heart must be!

anathema’s voice went professorial. “first, there’s us: two atomic, untouching intelligences. then, like you said, the fantasied objects of desire. you didn’t mention, but, usually oedipal.”

“okay,” jakob said, then with a twitch of the mouth decided he had conceded too much. “maybe.”

“then there’s the repressed part of each person.” a solemn nod. well, at least grad studentorial. “often the most revealing part, sexually.” 

“i don’t repress,” jakob said, “do you repress? maybe you repress.”

“of course you repress, jakob,” anathema said, stroking his hand. “whatever you aren’t, your unconscious is, you know? so if you’re a skinny, sensitive, poet-type, then your unconscious is obese, uncouth, illiterate.”

“i bet he eats pussy like a king though,” jakob said, “what’s yours?”

anathema touched her cheek. “dunno. i’m well-integrated.”

“coward,” jakob said.

“well, fine,” anathema said, “if i had to guess, she’s sickly, nervous, complains a lot, an aging nurse with eau de nicotine and chronic cough, holding a coffee mug that warns against conversing with the holder before the liquid therein is consumed.”

“you lost me,” jakob squinted, “is this like, your aunt, or something?”

anthema flushed. why who can say? perhaps, like many girls whose beauty is mathematical, she was guarded against even the mention of numbers that didn’t add up. 

“doesn’t matter. that’s six,” she said.

an imperceptible nod.

“then there’s each person’s identification with the other person,” anathema said, “the empathic radar sweep—pleasure? pain?—which rebounds into narcissistic gratification, ‘i am making them feel this way.’ ”

anathema pulled up the sheets. “that’s eight. it’s kind of cold in here?”

“the thermostat says 72. but c’mon, is empathy really needed to enjoy the music of mutual orgasm? i mean, just from the you know, pavlovian…ah…”

jakob trailed off.

“you don’t empathize?” anathema asked.

“no, i’m autistic,” jakob said.

pause.

“i guess i knew that,” anathema acknowledged. “anyway, last, but not least, is the excluded third party.”

“huh,” jakob said. he scanned her eyes to see if any excluded third parties were present, but could see nothing clearly in her black coffee eyes. “you mean excluded ninth party.”

“sure.” anathema smiled without humor. “the excluded ninth party includes everyone not involved in the sexual act, who by their exclusion, are thereby included: referee, nightmare, voyeur.”

jacob looked out the dust-dried window, then at his the weather app on his phone. the sky was bright and blue, but the air was rumored cold. thus a distinction between light and heat was implied.

“ ‘who by their exclusion, are therby included,’ ” jakob said.

“that’s what i said,” anathema replied coolly.

“given that such a quorum is required,” jakob said, “it’s a wonder anyone has sex at all.”

“actually, they don’t.”

“they don’t?”

 anathema shrugged. “i mean, according to lacan.”

silence seemed to enter through the window, although there was doubtless more noise outside than within. by degrees, the earth turned its face away from the sun. 

“so this is the power of french philosophy,” jakob mumbled, “damn.”

jakob and anathema shifted pointlessly in the bed. 

remember, they were hungry. remember, they were young.

“you said a minimum of nine,” jakob tilted his head. “could there be more?”

anathema sighed.

“there is a tenth,” anathema said: “God.”

“GOD!?”

“yes,” anathema said, “in the sexual act, each of the aforementioned persons contributes to a single massive superego that in each moment rolls a kantian gut check: are they fucking in a manner that they would will to be a universal law?”

“if yes, there are ten, and god blesses their intercourse with love and sacred warmth. if not, there are nine, and they have to fill their doubt with hormones and mantras to the effect that You Only Live Once.”

both of them scanned the other’s eyes.

“seems complicated,” jakob said.

“well, life is complicated,” anathema said.

both of them scanned the other’s eyes.

“but it doesn’t have to be that complicated,” anathema, as fantasized by jakob said.

“i could make it even more complicated,” jakob, as fantasized by anathema, said.

“the numbers don’t add up,” anathema’s unconscious said, “i want to want this. i want to want to want this. so why can’t i…?” 

“there ain’t no universals! that’s some dumb shit!” jakob’s unconscious said, “now let me get back to going kobayashi on that gash!”

both of them scanned the other’s eyes, looking for something.

“a girl like a videogame, perfectly just in her correlation of effort with reward,”

“a boy like a cop who never catches the criminal,”

“a girl like the punchline of a joke, or a secret,”

“a boy like a promoted pawn,”

“a vampire, but not for blood,”

“a kiss, but not for love,”

“light, without heat,”

“heat, without light,”

“what i can’t get from you i will…”  the part of anathema that identified with jakob and the part of the part of jakob that identified with anathema said. 

and here the excluded ninth party opined: “in the penultimate act, the young two lovers curse each other with society’s labels. made strangers by this crude understanding, the lovers separate; but with distance, they realize that what is true in the abstract, misses the point entirely in the particulars. they reconcile. they face us, in defiance of our labels. and we approve. we approve of their match. we always approve when people turn to face us, for we are lonely, and we crave their gaze.”

“so it goes in most judd apatow movies, but perhaps your case is different.”

“i don’t know what to ask from you and i don’t know what to ask from the world,” jakob said quietly.

“what?” anathema said.

“NEVERMIND ALL THAT,” God said, “I AM THE LORD THY GOD, WHO BROUGHT YOU UP OUT OF THE LAND OF EGYPT, OUT OF THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE. YOU SHALL HAVE NO OTHER GODS BEFORE ME. YOU SHALL NOT MAKE FOR YOURSELVES AN IDOL, NOR ANY IMAGE OF ANYTHING THAT IS IN THE HEAVENS ABOVE, OR THAT IS IN THE EARTH BENEATH, OR THAT IS IN THE WATER UNDER THE EARTH: YOU SHALL NOT BOW YOURSELF DOWN TO THEM, NOR SERVE THEM, FOR I, YOUR GOD, AM A JEALOUS GOD, VISITING THE INIQUITY OF THE FATHERS ON THE CHILDREN, ON THE THIRD AND ON THE FOURTH GENERATION OF THOSE WHO HATE ME, AND SHOWING LOVING KINDNESS TO THOUSANDS OF THOSE WHO LOVE ME AND KEEP MY COMMANDMENTS.”

jakob and anathema sat up in bed and listened, expecting discourse on graven images and maybe some life advice.

but God only said: “SO ISN’T THERE SOMEONE YOU FORGOT TO ASK?”

and the eyes of jakob and anathema were opened, and they knew that they were naked.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Unbearable heat

It's so hot.

And this time it's not because of Wei Ying's super hot boyfriend, Lan Zhan, who seems to raise Wei Ying's body temperature several degrees up simply by existing in his relative vicinity - and that's only because Lan Zhan isn't currently home. Not yet anyway.

But Wei Ying is and the damn heating system has decided it would not turn off anymore today for whatever goddamn reason - so Wei Ying is now sweating, on the floor, in a pair of very short shorts and nothing else, waiting for the repairman Lan Zhan said he hired.

Wei Ying is almost certain he's begun evaporating from existence, and opening the windows can do so much (after all, they live in a penthouse and the windows don't open fully for safety reasons) - so the moment there's a knock on the door, he springs to his feet (forgetting a shirt or a robe or anything else to cover up) and almost wants to kiss the man wearing the plumbing company's logo on his shirt (and Lan Zhan, who's apparently arrived at the same time with him). He refrains from doing either, though. Not the time for PDA when he's melting alive.

"You don't know how happy I am to see you!" Wei Ying exclaims, relieved, leading the repairman inside the apartment, towards their heating system units, acknowledging his boyfriend with a sweet smile.

"Yes, mr. Lan over here has told me the issue is quite pressing." And, as he follows behind, the man inadvertedly (who could blame him, really?) lets his eyes wander over Wei Ying's milky skin, stretched over his well-defined back muscles and towards his slim waist, all the way to his plush, round-

Lan Zhan hands the man a pile of documents in such a way that his view of Wei Ying's backside is obstructed entirely. The repairman likes to think he only imagined Lan Zhan glaring at him when they meet eyes (he didn't).

"This is the paperwork from the last system checkup." Lan Zhan clarifies. The man nods, looks over the specifications, and decides to set his toolbox down for a better look at the problem.

"You might want to take that jacket off, it's boiling in here." Wei Ying laughs and the ghost of a blush appears on the man's face. He's trying so hard not to look at Wei Ying's chest and abs and his V-line, obsessively repeats the company's code of conduct in his head and sheds his jacket.

Lan Zhan takes it from him (snatches, more like) to hang on the back of a chair, and this time the repairman is positive he's being glared at. He also knows he's distracted by the very hot, almost naked tenant that's only a few feet away from him, watching him closely.

"I think the issue is caused by the wiring in the thermostat, the heating unit is fine." The man says after a few initial verifications.

"I figured as much." Wei Ying sighs. "I told Lan Zhan that was it and to let me fix it myself, but he wouldn't listen."

"You're working in the field?"

"Oh, nothing like that!" He laughs, and the repairman is pretty sure he could fall in love with the sound. "I just like to mess around with stuff, find out how it works." A wink. "It's a given since I'm an engineer and all."

The man looks up from his toolbox, genuinely surprised. "Really?"

"Is that so shocking?" Wei Ying laughs again. "Do I not look like I could be?"

The repairman turns red and bites his tongue not to say Wei Ying looks more like a model (or a pornstar). If anybody comments on the blush, he can just blame it on the heat.

"What field of engineering do you work in?"

"Oh, I'm in nuclear engineering right now!" And the man is shocked how Wei Ying is so casual about it. This man is not only exceptionally attractive, but also exceptionally intelligent and skilled.

The repairman is trying so hard not to ask for his number right now - there's no ring on his finger and no coupley pictures around after all, maybe he could get away with the ethics code violation. However, there is intimidating and brooding mr. Lan Wangji who definitely does not like the repairman and who has been glaring craters into his skull since the moment he stepped in the apartment and first laid eyes on Wei Ying. Perhaps they're... a thing?

With a quiet sigh, the repairman gets to work. He struggles a bit with the electrical panel, embarrassingly so, and he's surprised when Wei Ying leans over him and, with some skillful movements of his fingers, detaches the troublesome pieces.

God, he's amazing.

"There you go! That part's always tricky, don't worry too much about it!"

He smiles at the repairman and his hair frames his face so beautifully and-

"Wei Ying. Let mister..."

"Li." The man completes, quickly, a bit offended that Lan Wangji forgot his name despite the big lettering on his nametag and the fact that Lan Wangji himself hired him.

"Let mister Li finish his work. Do not disturb him."

"Oh, it's no-" but mr. Li shuts up when he feels like Lan Zhan is 3 seconds away from smashing his skull in given the dark look in his eyes.

"Come with me."

Wei Ying lets out a happy sound. "Okay! If you need anything, mr. Li, we're in the-"

"Bedroom." Lan Zhan completes, only a bit too cocky.

Mister Li looks away quickly. "R-Right."

"See yourself out when you finish, won't you?" Lan Zhan speaks, again, not bothering to conceal a smirk as he lets his hand cup at one of Wei Ying's asscheeks.

Mister Li finishes up just as erratic moaning begins filling the apartment.

[labotronicsscientific]

Thermostatic Oil Bath

Labotronics thermostatic oil bath is a bench top unit, equipped with FIR heating technology which precisely heat the oil, reducing the risk of overheating of bath. The intelligent thermostatic setting allows to set specific temperature under range RT ~ 300 °C for a period of time, which is accurately maintained by inbuild sensors and amplifiers. Its dual A/D converter change the analog signals to numeric digits for quick reading.

[shri-homes]

Energy-Efficient Building Techniques in Tarneit

In reaction to the global movement towards sustainability, the construction industry in Tarneit, an emerging suburb of Victoria, has been integrated. In particular, house builders Tarneit can incorporate sustainable and efficient methods, materials, and technologies in building construction. 

These methods benefit the environment and are also financially sustainable for homeowners as they help cut down costs incurred in the provision of energy. This blog evaluates the various high-quality, energy-efficient building methods defining future housing in Tarneit.

Solar Power Integration

Integrating solar power systems is one of the most significant steps towards energy-efficient building. House builders in Tarneit increasingly embed solar panels and thermal systems in new constructions. Solar panels capture solar energy and directly convert it into electricity. 

Solar thermal structures harness sun energy to warm water, which reduces the use of steam on non-renewable power assets. This cuts carbon emissions and hence supports the environment while lowering utility expenses. 

Additionally, promoting incentives for solar power in Australia attracts new homeowners to embrace this power source.

Advanced Thermal Insulation

Proper insulation, therefore, plays a significant role in energy conservation, whereby temperatures within homes are well regulated, lowering the chances of using heaters or air conditioners frequently. House builders in Tarneit employ advanced insulation techniques, including foam insulation and high-quality batten insulation.

These materials are installed in the walls, roofs and floors as insulation and resist heat flow in cold and hot seasons. Insulation is crucial for making homes more comfortable by significantly reducing noise levels.

High-Efficiency Windows

Another strategy house builders in Tarneit use is installing energy-efficient windows to enhance home energy performance. Multiple-glazed or triple-glazed windows are made up of several glass panes separated by a gas with very low thermal conductivity. 

These windows also play a part in controlling indoor temperatures, preventing the formation of condense and giving better soundproofing. 

The frames employed in making these conservatories include fibreglass or composite frames, which are more energy-efficient and long-lasting.

Water-Saving Fixtures

Water performance in buildings is now considered one of the predominant additives of sustainable construction. In today's Tarneit homes, newer and more innovative houses feature energy and water-saving amenities such as low-flow toilets, showerheads, and faucets. 

Experienced house builders in Tarneit prefer these fixtures to minimise water usage in daily life while maintaining functionality without achieving high levels of water usage. 

By using significantly less water per minute compared to traditional fixtures, they help conserve a critical natural resource and lead to substantial savings on water bills. 

The deliberate incorporation of water-efficient technology in homes demonstrates a commitment to environmental stewardship and economic efficiency.

Use of Sustainable Materials

The desire for building materials plays a vital function in the environmental effect of a construction undertaking. House builders in Tarneit use recycled building materials that are not obtained directly from the source and have been recycled first. Some sustainable materials used in construction include recycled steel, glass, re-use wood and bamboo. 

Also, paints and adhesives are non-toxic, and sealants are used to reduce the emissions of VOCs, which harm the inhabitants of homes by providing them with good air quality.

Implementation of Smart Home Technology

Smart home technology is crucial today and significantly affects home energy management. Some of the features in houses in Tarneit include intelligent thermostats that control heating and cooling equipment depending on the number of people using the house and the climate. 

For instance, LED lighting consumes less energy than traditional lighting; programmable appliances and water heaters also help save energy. These technologies allow owners to screen their power consumption behaviour in detail and, for this reason, be in a function to make rational selections.

Green Roofs and Living Walls

Some innovative house builders in Tarneit are incorporating green roofs and living walls into new constructions. These characteristics provide good thermal performance, minimise the speed and impact of water on buildings, contribute to air quality, and diversify the avian fauna within cities. 

A green roof is a vegetative layer covered with vegetation and a growing medium or partially or fully developed plant layer on a waterproofing layer. 

Similarly, living walls are part of the building's exterior or interior walls, covered with plants. They enhance a building’s insulation and add aesthetic value to the property.

Optimal Orientation and Layout

This is a fact because the position of a building and its architecture determine how much energy it will consume. Climatically responsive architecture is apparent, where house builders in Melton strategically place numerous windows and doors to maximise natural light and air circulation within the buildings. 

Additionally, the structures are oriented in alignment with the direction of the winds and the sun. This approach minimises using artificial lights and mechanical air conditioners, thus saving power. 

Such thoughtful placement enhances energy savings and ensures that living spaces maintain a natural comfort throughout the seasons, creating healthier and more sustainable living environments.

Final Takeaway

Thus, the residents of Melton who choose to live in a house constructed with the following features can have a relatively environmentally friendly way of life meeting the ecological requirements of the contemporary world. Various dedicated house builders in Melton are adopting these building practices, paving the way for a future where all newly constructed homes will be as energy-efficient as possible, reflecting a commitment to environmental responsibility and sustainability.