#performance metrics calculation

[otterwithaknife]

so upset by the divide in common usage of "agorithm" (weighs stuff by popularity/similarity to what you've engaged with before) vs the actual definition of "algorithm" (a sequence of precise instructions to achieve a result)

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

TRAINER KÖNIG

sfw + nsfw. sucking könig's humongous titties. big cock. shower sex. semi-public. non-fluent könig.

it was a practical decision, you told yourself, scrolling past flashy advertisements for gyms promising overnight transformations, past testosterone-fueled testimonials about “beast mode” and “grindset.”

you'd sworn to yourself that as soon as you had the financial breathing room, as soon as you didn’t have to mentally calculate whether a dinner out would set you back for the week, you’d do it. invest in yourself. not in aesthetics, not in performance metrics, but in survival.

something that made you feel safer so that walking home late at night wouldn’t always feel like a loaded gun pressed to the base of your spine. you wouldn’t keep your keys between your fingers like they were some flimsy excuse for a weapon.

you found a coach who was within budget, someone named könig. a straightforward profile without a profile picture and just a handful of mid-range reviews.

it was genuine in its mediocrity, not glowing in the way bot-generated reviews tended to be, but not riddled with horror stories of scams or half-baked lessons either. people mentioned that he knew what he was doing, that he was patient, that his methods were effective.

but there were a few comments about his communication too. his english, more specifically.

at first, you were more nervous about looking weak than anything else.

logically, you knew that was the point. that was why you were paying for this— to get stronger, to learn. but the thought of stepping into a room filled with people who could probably bench your body weight while you struggled with a 25 kg deadlift made something inside you shrivel. made you feel like you’d be under a microscope, mistakes magnified. the thought of someone watching you fumble through drills, assessing your form— the potential for ridicule made your stomach knot up.

so, you signed up for solo lessons.

before you even met him, könig messaged you. a late-night notification breaking through the dim glow of your phone screen.

“is it ok that my english is not so good?”

you blinked at the screen. read it again. there was something unexpectedly… earnest about it. a self-consciousness that you rhymed with your own.

your thumbs hovered over the keyboard before you replied. “of course! i don’t mind at all.” then, after a second, “i’ll probably learn some phrases from you, haha.”

a long pause. three dots appeared, disappeared, reappeared. finally— “this is nice. i will try my best.”

something about that, about the fact that he had asked at all, the careful way he phrased it, stuck with you. you didn't know why, but it did.

the first time you met könig, you nearly turned around and walked straight back out the door, convinced your coach still hadn’t arrived.

at first, you genuinely thought you had the wrong room. or maybe there’d been some kind of mix-up, like another instructor using the space before your lesson.

you had walked into the gym expecting— what? some average-looking guy in a compression shirt? maybe a little bulky, maybe with that particular kind of gym-rat energy, all tight smiles and way-too-enthusiastic handshakes.

instead you got könig.

a massive, six-foot something, tank built like something that was meant to withstand damage and then deliver it back tenfold.

his hoodie, loose on his frame and looking a bit worse for wear from too many washes, still did nothing to hide the sheer scale of him. the water bottle he was holding was dwarfed by his hand and his arms, even relaxed at his sides, looked like they could crush a man’s ribs without much effort.

out of place. that was what he looked like. less self-defense coach and more guard stationed at the gates of hell.

you hesitated in the doorway, gripping the strap of your gym bag, suddenly hyperaware of every muscle in your body tensing up.

and then he spoke.

"… my client?” his voice was surprisingly soft. deep, yes, but smoothed down with the lilt of his accent.

you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes. jesus christ.

“uh, yeah, i think so,” you shifted on your feet, clearing your throat. “i booked the solo slots.”

he nodded. “good.” a pause. then, “you are… beginner?”

you exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh. “you could say that.”

his eyes smiled, something in the creases looking like amusement, before he jerked his head toward the back of the gym. “we start slow then.”

the whole thing went… surprisingly well.

könig was an amazing instructor for self-defense, not afraid to teach you moves that were downright dirty. not just the textbook counters or polished techniques that looked good in demonstrations but the kind of violence that left real damage. moves that could end a fight before it even started. his lessons were brutal in their practicality, built for survival, not sport.

his shrug always came before the skepticism could leave your mouth, as if he already knew the doubts forming behind your eyes. anticipation sat in his expression, waiting for you to question the practicality of a move that involved hitting someone's throat or breaking a wrist. waiting for that flicker of hesitation so he could counter it.

“has no rules, defense,” he simply told you, adjusting his gloves with a nonchalance that felt at odds with the destruction he'd just inflicted on the poor training dummy. his foot still pressed into its broken torso, the material caved inward like a crushed can. “s’long as you're safe, is good tactic.”

it was truth that didn’t need embellishment to him. könig wasn’t just saying it to justify his methods— it was a simple fact.

he made it seem less brutal, more justified. not just an excuse for violence but a reassurance, a lesson in survival.

it had you thinking if maybe you had been seeing things too rigidly, measuring combat in terms of right and wrong instead of what kept you breathing. könig didn’t. his world wasn’t one of fairness, it was of outcomes.

you exhaled, glancing at the poor, ruined dummy before looking back at him. “i think you broke it.”

könig tilted his head, unbothered. “hm. ja.” then, after a pause, he grinned, nudging the dummy’s crumpled remains with his boot like it might suddenly spring back to life. “but was good form, yes?”

the laugh that bubbled up caught you off guard, an unexpected burst of warmth. the corners of his grin lifted just a little higher at that.

texting started out as a necessity. scheduling changes, clarifying techniques, occasional reminders about bringing extra wraps. that was the whole point, really— a way to communicate outside of training.

somehow, though, könig turned out to be a menace over text. sarcasm practically dripped from his messages, sharpened now that he had the time to translate things properly. he was witty, sometimes outright ridiculous, and the sheer absurdity of his jokes caught you off guard more times than you could count.

könig: i think i have unlocked a new level of muscle soreness. my body is rejecting me. i am a broken man.

you: rip. gone and forgotten.

könig: good. don't tell my story. it's kind of pathetic.

“könig,” you typed one evening. “where the hell did you learn english?”

“the internet.”

immediate suspicion flooded your mind. “what part of the internet?”

“…the bad part.”

“be more specific.”

“ah…” there was a long pause, like he was regretting his choices. finally, “weird forums.”

apprehension curled at the base of your spine. “what kind of weird forums, könig?”

“…conspiracy theories.”

sheer, undiluted disbelief clung to you as you stared at your screen.

“WAIT” he backpedaled immediately, as if he could feel your judgment through the phone. “i was a child!!”

“A CHILD IN CONSPIRACY FORUMS?”

“it was not like that!!”

his frantic response only made you laugh harder. “then explain.”

“i was just reading, yes? stories. people told very cool stories. aliens, secret government projects, ghosts”

“oh my god, you were a cryptid kid.”

“nein!!”

amusement bloomed in your chest. “so what i’m hearing is you were, like, deep in the trenches. lizard people? JFK clone theories? the moon isn’t real?”

“…yes.”

“jesus christ.”

“it was fun!! and good english practice!”

“you learned english from paranoid men on the internet.”

“they were very passionate.”

laughter ripped through your chest so violently you nearly dropped your phone. könig sent a series of increasingly exasperated texts, all variations of “stop laughing”, which only made it worse.

every time you thought about it after that, a fresh wave of giggles overtook you. the next training session, you couldn’t even meet his eyes without picturing tiny könig hunched over an old computer, nodding solemnly as someone named TruthSeeker88 explained how the queen of england was actually a reptilian overlord.

he hated you for it. “you are evil,” he muttered when you brought it up again, shoving your shoulder lightly. “this is slander.”

“is it slander if it’s true?”

“YES.”

somewhere along the way, little snapshots of your lives started slipping into the conversation. könig sent blurry photos of his boots kicked up on a table, a war documentary playing in the background. “history lesson,” he’d caption, like he wasn’t watching something unreasonably brutal for fun. you sent the sky from your morning walk, pink bleeding into gold, and he always responded with a simple “pretty.”

you weren’t sure if he meant the sky or something else, but you let yourself wonder.

and then, selfies.

his were always shy, half-obscured, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to let you see too much despite the fact that you saw each other every week. the lower half of his face, mostly— jawline tucked into the shadows, the soft curve of a grin barely visible.

sometimes it was just his hands: wrapped around a steaming mug, fingers long and scarred, or flexed absentmindedly over his knee, veins shifting beneath pale skin. you never commented on them outright, just sent something casual— “cozy” or “nice gloves, old man”— but you always saved them, tucked away in your camera roll like little guilty pleasures.

yours were much less subtle in comparison.

exhausted post-workout, slumped against your couch with a dead-eyed stare. wrapped up in a hoodie, coffee in hand. the first time you sent one, you didn’t expect much. maybe a quick “good job” or some kind of fitness advice. instead, he sent “cute.”

you stared at the message for a full minute, blinking. your stomach did something stupid.

after that, he started commenting more. when you looked particularly grumpy, he’d send a teasing “you need nap, bird?” or “angry face. very scary.” and when you groaned about soreness, he was smug about it, “should have stretched. tsk tsk.”

it was cute. unbearably cute.

but all good things must come to an end.

one month. that’s how long this was supposed to last. four weeks of training, a neat little package of lessons that would leave you more capable of handling yourself in a fight. somewhere along the way, that timeline stretched, bending under the weight of something neither of you dared acknowledge.

könig should have cut you off weeks ago.

“you are expert already,” he tells you one evening, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. his tone is light, teasing, but there’s a hint of real curiosity beneath it. “i do not think class is needed. why do you keep taking?”

hesitation flickers in your chest. because of you, you want to admit, but the words sit heavy on your tongue, too risky, too exposing. instead, you roll your shoulders back and offer something easier, something safer.

“i need to beat you first.”

amusement dances across his features. könig huffs out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head as if considering the possibility.

“it will not happen in a million years, i think.”

arrogance suits him. confidence carved into his bones, stitched into the way he moves, the way he fights. you don’t argue because he’s right— he’s bigger, stronger, more experienced. if he wanted to, he could probably break you in half without much effort.

but miracles happen.

it’s a fluke. both of you know it. a momentary lapse, a split second where his guard lowers just enough for you to slip past his defenses. könig lets you try—indulges you, really, humoring your attempts at taking him down like he’s teaching a child to wrestle. that cockiness, that easy amusement, is what costs him.

somehow, impossibly, you get him in a triangle choke.

his body tenses the moment your thighs clamp around his neck, locking him in place. shock flickers in his eyes before it shifts into something unreadable, something quiet and assessing. his breath comes out steady despite the position he’s in, controlled in a way that makes your pulse stutter.

for a moment, you think you have him.

then, with an ease that’s almost insulting, he pries your legs apart, spreading them like it’s nothing.

a gasp hitches in your throat.

his movements don’t stop there— before you can even process what’s happening, he shifts, pressing himself close, kneeling between your thighs, completely caging you beneath him. his grin is wide, pleased, entirely too unbothered for someone who had just been seconds away from losing.

“very good, bird,” he praises. “very good takedown. i like.”

air sticks in your throat. something is wrong.

“k-könig-”

he blinks at you, tilting his head slightly. “ja?”

your bugged-out stare flicks downward, and his follows instinctively.

oh.

his entire body tenses. his pupils shrink.

understanding dawnes, slow and terrible, as he finally feels the press of something very, very apparent against you.

“that was not supposed to happen.”

no shit.

könig’s weight shifts over you, muscles tight as he tries to move away but instead— maybe by accident, maybe not— his cock drags against your core, thick even through the fabric separating you. the pressure is just enough to make your breath hitch, a spark of something warm licking up your spine before a sound slips from your throat.

he freezes, head jerking up like a startled animal, eyes darting around the empty training room, scanning for any sign that someone might’ve heard, his breath uneven as he listens, as you listen, as the silence between you stretches impossibly thin.

nothing. no one.

he exhales. something in his face twitches, like he’s still trying to convince himself this is real, that you really just made that sound because of him.

his gaze drops, landing back on you, mouth parting, jaw flexing. then his body moves again, slower this time, cock grinding against you, rubbing you through your clothes, dragging heavy between your thighs, and you swear you see his eyelids flutter just slightly at the friction.

his forehead presses against yours, breath coming faster. “tell me to stop.”

the words hit your skin as more air than voice, warm against your jaw, but you don’t even need to think about it, because stopping is the last thing you want right now, the very last thing your body would allow.

“d-don’t stop.”

he curses, words slipping before he can stop them, and you don’t know what they mean, only that they sound wrecked, like they’ve been dragged up from somewhere deep in his chest.

könig’s forehead presses harder into yours. his hands tighten at your waist. his breath comes out uneven, stumbling over itself, and his voice fumbles through the next words. “i don’t have lube.”

“we don’t nee-”

“we do.” his face twists a little, mouth pressing tight, like the idea of taking you without it is actually painful.

you swallow, shifting slightly under him, feeling just how big he is. slick gathers between your thighs, and before you can stop yourself, the question slips out, barely above a whisper.

“are you big?”

his lips twitch, like he’s fighting back a grin, like he can’t believe you just asked that, and then it spreads into something quintessentially könig, — slow, lazy, and warm.

he presses in harder, dragging over your soaked cunt through the fabric of your underwear. the friction pulls a gasp from your lips, hips rolling up instinctively.

his grin stretches wider, eyes flicking down to watch you grind against him. "i am not small."

heat floods you, pussy fluttering around nothing, aching. your hips move again, searching for more, slick soaking through your underwear. your head tips back, breath catching. the sound that escapes you is closer to a whimper than you’d like to admit.

his lips find your jaw, tongue flicking out, tasting sweat and skin. his voice follows his mouth, words warm against your neck. "pretty little pussy..." he murmurs, dragging the syllables out like he’s savoring them. "bet it’d feel better wrapped around me."

the sound that leaves your throat is humiliating, high-pitched and needy. you don’t mean to make it, but it’s too late.

könig grabs your wrist. pulls you up. your balance falters, and before you can recover, he hauls you toward the showers. boots thud against tile. the door slams, lock clicking into place.

his mouth finds yours before you can speak. lips crash into yours, messy and eager. tongues tangle, breaths mix, heat pouring between you as your fingers twist in his hair. a laugh bubbles up between kisses—yours or his, you can’t tell—and he groans into your mouth, grinning against your lips.

“fuck,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you. cheeks flush, eyes dark with something feral. “wanted this so long…”

clothes hit the floor in frantic shoves. hands fumble, pulling fabric away until skin meets skin, warmth pressing in on all sides.

his cock, thick, flushed, and dripping with precum, hangs between the two of you, weighed down by its own girth.

he sees your stare and grins. "big, huh?”

words fail you and for a moment you can't do anything but nod dumbly.

könig reaches past you, flicks on the shower. water crashes down, steam rising fast. the air thickens with heat and he wastes no time to pull you under the spray, water slicing over skin.

scarred hands find your face, thumbs brushing your jaw as his mouth returns to yours.

your hand slides down between you and wraps around his cock. konig's hips jerk forward, breath shuddering out against your lips.

“could kill you with this, eh?” his grin tugs lazy at the corners of his mouth. his chest lifts and falls, breaths dragging in deep, water cascading over both of you, hot against skin already burning.

your hand tightens, fingers sliding along the thick length of him, precum slicking your palm. warmth pulses beneath your touch, veins pronounced under your grip. he twitches when you give a slow twist near the tip, hips jolting forward. a groan rips from his throat, echoing off the tiled walls.

“scheiße,” he hisses, jaw working as he fights the urge to thrust. one hand flies to his hair, tugging as if the sting will help. water streaks down his face, lips parted, breaths breaking up his words.

“not helping,” you breathe, voice shaking. you press your mouth to his jaw, pressing a kiss there before your tongue darts out to taste the salt of his skin. his breath catches, eyes squeezing shut.

“oh, fuck-” his hips rock forward again, cock dragging through your fist, smearing more warmth along your stomach. precum drips from the flushed head, glistening in the steam-filled air.

a grin tugs at his lips, strained but there. “you tryna kill me?” the words slide out. "scheiß kleines ding…”

you laugh, kissing down his jaw. “not my fault you’re easy.” your thumb slides over the tip.

his head knocks back against the wall, neck stretching, throat working through a swallowed groan. “you- fuck- you think is easy?” a hand finds your chin, pulling your gaze up. “look at me.”

könig’s eyes catch yours. blown out. a ring of blue against black. then suddenly his lips curl, and his voice slips through his teeth.

“i have touched myself to you.”

you blink. “what?”

his grin widens. “before.” his hips push forward, cock dragging against your belly. “many times.”

your face burns.

“oh my god.”

his head dips, lips brushing yours, his breath hot and amused. “you do too, hm?”

your heart stops. heat shoots through you, cunt clenching. “yeah,” your breath shudders. “me too…”

his eyes widen, like he didn't expect you to admit to it, then narrows, grin pulling crooked. “yeah?” his cock twitches in your hand again. “fuckin’ knew it…” laughter spills out, breathless and warm.

könig’s head dips to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. tongue sliding against yours, messy and eager. laughter rumbles out, hips rolling, giggles slipping between mouths.

“fuckin’ knew it,” he repeats, words slurring together. “think about me late at night? fingers stuffed in that pretty cunt…”

you gasp, half scandalized, half aroused, hips shifting as slick pools between your thighs. “könig-”

“yeah?” another thrust. precum smears across your belly. “tell me.”

“i- fuck- yeah,” you breathe. “think about you all the time.”

he groans like the words alone could undo him. könig’s hands drop to grip your thighs, fingers digging firm into the flesh as he lifts you like you weigh nothing. your back meets the cold tile with a dull thud, heat from the shower clashing with the chill seeping through the wall.

your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him close. his cock drags through your folds, thick length sliding slick against your cunt, nudging your entrance but never pushing in.

könig watches your face, chest lifting with every shaky breath. “how much do you take?”

you blink, heat simmering through your skin. “what?”

his cock slides against you again, harder this time, grinding against your clit, making you twitch. “normally. how much?”

a shrug rolls through your shoulders, confidence bubbling up, reckless. “all of it,” you answer without thinking, back arching, rubbing against him, arms looping around his neck. “i can take everything.”

he stills, expression shifting— his lips part, brows lifting just slightly. then he laughs, a low, amused sound, mouth curling into a grin. “nein, you can not.”

challenge flares in your chest. “i can.”

another laugh, softer now, hands adjusting on your thighs. “you are-” he shakes his head, grinning wider, lips brushing your cheek as he exhales, “-so very stupid.”

heat pools in your stomach, thighs clenching around him. “i’ll prove it.”

hands grip your thighs, fingers pressing deep into flesh as könig shifts his weight, cock grinding slow against your entrance, precum smearing where you’re slick and warm. a breath shudders out of him, jaw tight, brows pinching like he’s trying to hold something back. “you say this,” he mutters, “and then you cry.”

“i won’t,” you shoot back.

“hm.” his gaze flicks down to where his cock pushes against you, dragging through your folds. “we’ll see.”

könig’s fingers flex. his grip tightens and your breath hitches. “ready?”

“please,” you gasp, nails biting into his shoulders.

he grits his teeth, cock sliding as deep as your walls will allow, head bumping against your cervix. every sob that escapes your lips makes his hips stutter, breath catching like he’s holding on by a thread.

"oh shit," he mutters. "look at you... crying so much."

"feels too good." your hands are weak on his shoulders.

könig grins, breathless, hands squeezing your hips. "ja? but you begged for this, no? say ‘please, könig, fuck me’-" he mocks your voice, low and whiny, then thrusts, ripping a squeak out of you. "and now you cry like a little baby like i said."

you shake your head against his chest, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. you love it—you love his cock so much it hurts—but you just can’t stop the sounds. every thrust drags a new sob from you, body trembling in his grip.

"shh." he squints down at you. "you are too loud-" his hand slides to the back of your head, pressing you close. "fuck... here. suck."

your lips brush his chest, and his nipple is right there, stiff against warm skin. you hesitate, dizzy from pleasure, but then your mouth opens and you latch on, tongue flicking over the peak before you suck soft and slow.

könig’s hips jerk.

"oh, shit- good girl," he breathes, head falling back. his fingers tangle in your hair. "yeah, just like that. little baby needs something to suck on, huh?"

your cheeks burn, whining against his chest, mouth working over his nipple as his cock drags in deep and slow. he groans, low and desperate, fucking you through your cries.

"such a messy baby," he grins, looking far too fucked-out to be as smug as he is. "can’t stop crying, can you? too good, yes? too much?"

you nod, sobbing around him, and könig just laughs, like he can’t believe how fucked you both are.

"keep sucking," he growls. "will fuck you ‘til you’re dumb.”

[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 19

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist]

Content Warning: medical procedures; mutual pining; jealousy: angst; angst; angst

You walked through the ER doors just before 7 a.m., fully expecting to slip into the usual rhythm.

But something felt off.

You adjusted your badge, trying to shake off the unease curling in your stomach.

Robby stood at the far end of the nurses’ station, scanning a tablet, his brow furrowed in focus. But when he looked up, his gaze found yours instantly. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

There it was again—the thing that didn’t exist. You offered a smile, soft, professional, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t said exactly what you never wanted to admit stung. But before you could walk toward him, you heard your name.

“Dr. Williams,” Gloria’s voice cut through the corridor like a scalpel. You turned, instantly straightening. “Morning,” you greeted her, surprised to see her. “Do you have a moment?” You followed her into the empty consult room, hands slipping into your pockets.

“I’ll be brief,” she began, all business. “We’ve been reviewing performance metrics from the day shift. Gurney times. Patient satisfaction scores. Throughout. And one thing is becoming increasingly clear—whatever you’re doing with Dr. Robby, it’s working.”

There was a pause. Calculated.

“But,” she added, folding her arms, “I have to ask myself: how much of that success is you?”

You blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Look,” she continued, stepping closer. “You’ve got instincts. You’re sharp, fast on your feet, and the staff trust you. That’s not something we see often in someone still in their fellowship.”

You opened your mouth, unsure what to say, but she didn’t give you the chance.

“I’d like to offer you an Attending position on Day shift. Permanent.”

Your breath caught. For a second, all you could hear was the echo of her words—sharp and sudden, cutting through the haze of the morning.

“I... I thought that wasn’t possible until the fellowship ended.”

“I can make exceptions,” she said smoothly. “We’re restructuring anyway. Leaning into what works. You’ve earned the opportunity.”

There was a flicker of something in her eyes when she said it—an unspoken message embedded beneath the compliment. Something that made your stomach knot.

“And Dr. Robinavitch?” you asked carefully.

She gave a noncommittal smile. “Dr. Robinavitch is very good at what he does. But his methods are... traditional. You, on the other hand, represent something fresher. Progressive. It’s not about replacing anyone—it’s about optimizing what we already have.”

You didn’t buy it. Not entirely.

Still, the words landed, pressing against a part of you that had longed to be seen for something more than potential.

“I’ll need time to think about it.”

“Of course,” she said. “We’ll be finalizing the shift schedule for Q3 by next Friday.”

You nodded numbly. She left with a purposeful stride, heels clicking across tile like punctuation.

You stayed behind a moment longer, staring at the closed door.

Your heart was thudding now—not from the offer, but from what it meant. From what it could cost.

When you stepped back into the hallway, the buzz of the ER surrounded you, but it was muted somehow. Like you were underwater.

Robby had moved closer, standing just past the nurses’ station. His eyes were already on you.

And this time, you didn’t smile. Because you didn’t know how. Because for the first time, it felt like you might be standing on opposite sides of something.

You spent the first few hours of the shift pretending to be fine.

You nodded through consults, smiled with the residents, charted with a kind of manic precision that made your notes look like they were written by someone with caffeine in her bloodstream instead of blood.

But beneath it all, you were rattled.

Gloria’s offer kept looping in your head like a faulty monitor alarm. Permanent. Day shift. Optimization. Not replacing anyone, she’d said. But you weren’t stupid.

And Robby—he was everywhere.

In the trauma bay, tossing you a pair of gloves with a smirk and a quiet, “You ready, hotshot?”

In the lounge, where he held out your favorite snack without comment, like he always did when you forgot to eat.

And every time he was near, your body betrayed you.

Your shoulders would stiffen. Your pulse would kick up a notch. You’d flinch—internally, mostly—each time his arm brushed yours or his eyes lingered for just a second too long.

He noticed something. You knew he did.

But Robby wasn’t the kind of man who pushed. He just... watched. Waited. And that somehow made it worse.

Because now, every look he gave you felt like it came with a question you didn’t know how to answer.

“Hey.”

You turned, startled, and nearly dropped the chart in your hands. Robby stood behind you, brows raised slightly.

“You okay?” he asked, too casual to be just professional.

You forced a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Just, uh—long morning.”

“You’ve been charting like you’re mad at the keyboard,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

You tried to laugh. It came out thin.

There was a beat of silence between you. The kind that used to feel easy.

“Want to split the next trauma?” he asked. “They just paged for a GSW.”

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

Robby lingered for half a second longer, as if he was waiting for you to say something else. But you couldn’t. Not yet. Not with your heart running a marathon and your thoughts tangled in every possible version of what this meant for him... for you.

You followed him down the hall, your footsteps slower than usual, your mind anything but steady.

Later that afternoon, you stood in the supply closet, staring blankly at the gauze shelf while trying to remember why you came in here in the first place.

Your hands were shaking. Just barely. But enough to notice.

You hated feeling like this—off balance, uncertain. You hadn’t felt this way since your intern year, when everything had felt too big, too fast, and all you could do was try not to drown in it.

The worst part was knowing that this—whatever this was—wasn’t about fear.

It was about Robby.

It was the way you had to keep pretending his words hadn’t cut when you overheard them. The way you kept brushing aside the look on his face this morning like it hadn’t shaken you more than you wanted to admit.

And now Gloria’s offer had taken all of that emotion and lit it on fire.

Because for the first time, you weren’t just a fellow trying to prove herself.

You were a threat. To him. To the stability of whatever fragile rhythm the two of you had managed to build.

And the worst part? You didn’t know if you should warn him.

By the time the shift was wrapping up, your nerves had frayed to the point of splintering.

You handed off the last patient to a resident, ducked into the lounge, and took a long sip of your tea like it could somehow center you.

Robby walked in a second later, and ran a hand through his already-messy hair.

“You ever gonna tell me what’s going on with you today?” he asked, voice quiet.

Your throat tightened. “Just tired.”

He didn’t look convinced. But he didn’t press.

Instead, he sat beside you on the couch, close enough that your knees brushed. The quiet between you was heavier now. Charged. Like a storm waiting on the edge of your skin.

You turned your mug in your hands, suddenly feeling everything far too clearly.

“Do you ever feel like things change overnight?” you asked, not looking at him. “Like... you wake up and you’re not sure where you fit anymore?”

His brow furrowed. “What happened?”

You hesitated. “Nothing. Just thinking too much.”

His gaze lingered, but after a moment, he nodded. “For what it’s worth... you still fit.”

The words landed deeper than you expected. And when you looked up at him, you saw something flicker behind his eyes—something soft, unguarded.

It would be so easy to lean into that.

But instead, you stood.

“Have a good night,” you said.

And as you walked away, you knew he was still watching.

And this time, you didn’t know what it meant.

[artsarasp]

Sorry to ask for worldbuilding stuff, but for your System AU, since it’s offering missions and the first reward was 10% account reestablishment, what sorts of rewards has it been offering on subsequent missions? How many missions has LQG gone through by the time of MQF’s first mission? And considering he keeps getting them, does LQG keep ending up in the Water Prison?

(Just thinking that all the missions go forward, even though it would be really fun to hit YQY with a mission going back some time!)

The system keeps rewarding the peak lords with various percentages of sqq's account restoration, however, the percentages are not set and vary based on how "well" they perform in their mission.

This is frustrating because they do not understand the metrics the system uses to calculate their reward. From their perspective, the system is just dangling sqq's release in front of them to taunt them, but the system gives the reward based on how "optimal" he deems that plotline and how likely it is to push for that one forward.

LQG has been giving the best results because as the system said, he's a very proactive character and pushes the plot forward, but he doesn't always end up in the Water Prison. The system keeps going "what if?" with these missions, giving them different scenarios to act out to see how they react. It probably switched some of the scenarios around too, see how yqy reacts to what he previously gave to lqg and stuff. Maybe even a co-op mission idk, system is trying stuff out and i left it nebulous on purpose. The system tho wouldn't give any missions about the past, because its trying to fix the plot going forward and it can't fix what already happened.

[tinybeetiny]

Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 1: Deviation Detected

The way i wrote this with the quickness... was very excited I guess........

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

Next Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The screen flickers to life, casting a sterile blue glow across the high-glass boardroom. A chime sounds. The synth music is soft, warm, unnaturally comforting.

“In a perfect world… who says you have to be alone?”

[Scene: golden morning light streams through a smart-home window. A woman sips tea as a tall, smiling man ties her apron for her. Cut to holographic customization panels, fingers sliding across facial presets, hair types, emotional spectrums. A glossy chrome heart pulses as code flows behind it.]

“Introducing Build-A-Boyfriend™, a revolutionary experience by KQ Inc., the world’s leading innovator in emotional robotics. Whether you’re looking for loyalty, laughter, protection, or passion — we’ve engineered the perfect companion, from his cheekbones to his charm.”

“Over 100 hairstyles. 20 hair colors. Hundreds of adjustable features: emotional intelligence, love languages,

conflict styles. Everything is customizable. Everything is yours.”

“Build trust. Build comfort. Build connection.”

[The KQ logo glows softly: a platinum rose blooming from circuitry.]

Build-A-Boyfriend™

Grand Opening — November 17, 3258 — Hala City

The video faded into silence. Then the lights returned, crisp, clinical, bright.

At the head of the table stood Chairwoman Vira Yun, CEO of KQ Inc. Her expression remained unreadable, but her eyes gleamed, the kind of gleam found in calculated ambition, not excitement.

She turned to face the table of top engineers, market strategists, and high-clearance developers.

“Thoughts?” she asked, her tone brisk. “Feedback. Questions. Concerns. Suggestions.”

A silence followed, not out of fear, not exactly, but out of discipline. KQ Inc. didn’t reward enthusiasm. It rewarded precision.

Finally, a market rep near the center offered, “The tone tests well in demos. Emotionally aspirational, but still sterilized enough to fit city guidelines.”

“The language?” Yun asked.

“Romantic but controlled,” another replied. “'Ownership' is implied without being direct. Citizens won’t be alarmed.”

“Excellent,” Yun said with a curt nod. “Then we proceed as planned. Hala City's flagship store opens November 17th. Media campaign rollout begins in three days.”

She paused, her gaze sharpening.

“The special line will not be mentioned until one week after launch. Is that understood?”

A few heads nodded. Only a handful at the table even knew what that “special line” truly entailed. Yn was one of them.

She sat toward the far end of the table, posture poised, eyes tired. Her tablet rested on her lap, screen dimmed, but behind the sleep mode glowed a list of internal reports tagged:

ATEEZ-BETA UNITS: BEHAVIOR DEVIATIONS – OBSERVATION LOGS PENDING

Yn said nothing.

There were already signs the line was unstable. Minor things: timing issues in reaction sequences, spontaneous micro-expressions, strange audio interference. Nothing outside protocol, not yet. Nothing that couldn’t be debugged.

Hala City was the Matriarchy’s masterpiece, a glass-and-steel paradise built after the Fall, when nature reclaimed the earth and humankind rebuilt without the burden of chaos.

The male species was gone — extinct from war, plague, or something worse. The truth was debated in underground circles, but the government insisted: peace was found through elimination.

The Supreme Matrons ruled with quiet efficiency. Reproduction was artificial. Emotional regulation was enforced. Love — in its unpredictable, biological form, was discouraged as outdated.

Children were raised by state guardians. Affection was simulated and scheduled. Bonds were monitored through neural metrics and performance reviews.

In that vacuum, KQ Inc. thrived.

They created companions for the emotionally delicate. Tutors for the socially underdeveloped. Grief simulations for those who had lost what the government refused to acknowledge.

Build-A-Boyfriend™ was simply the next logical step.

The meeting ended, the room emptied — chairs tucked in without a sound, tablets tucked under arms, footsteps softened by KQ’s luxury anti-clatter flooring.

Yn lingered a moment longer, tablet resting against her chest, fingers tense.

Then she slipped out of her seat, crossed the vast corridor of frosted glass and synthetic sunlight, and pressed her palm to the exit panel. The doors whispered open, exhaling a puff of sterilized air, and she stepped outside into the city.

Outside the glass wall that stretched from floor to ceiling, the city pulsed in clean, geometric order. Silver transport rails carved silently through the skyline. Light panels glowed in a muted spectrum, perfectly synchronized to the day’s emotional calibration code. Every color, every sound, every rhythm was regulated, each calculated to keep citizens at a precise emotional neutrality.

Stability. Efficiency. Harmony.

Those were Hala’s sacred values. Engraved into the entrance of every government building, stitched into every school uniform.

Hala City had no military, no prisons, no religion. The old world’s chaos had been scrubbed from its bones. Instead, there were wellness assessments, emotional correction centers, and State Therapeutic Companions — androids assigned to citizens whose neural scans showed spikes in sentiment, unpredictability, or unresolved grief.

It had been 149 years since The Great Reset, when the last male died and the Matriarchy took hold. Whether extinction was natural or engineered no longer mattered, the Supreme Matrons had rewritten history to begin after.

The world before was called The Collapse Era. Now, the world simply was.

From childhood, every citizen of Hala was raised by assigned maternal figures, rotations of calm, trained nurturers programmed to teach logic, order, and controlled affection.

Love, in the romantic sense, was considered a chemical imbalance. Desire was tolerated only in controlled expressions — within VR therapy suites or government-regulated media.

To crave more was a sign of dysfunction. To want more? Dangerous.

But over time, cracks began to show.

The rise of emotional dependency disorders — the ache for connection that no algorithm could suppress. The quiet epidemic of phantom longing. Citizens reporting dreams they weren’t supposed to have. Feelings they couldn’t place. Names they didn’t know how they knew.

KQ Inc. had the answer: give them what they wanted — but make it safe.

Build-A-Boyfriend™ wasn’t about love. It was about control. A need engineered, then sold. And the citizens of Hala were already lining up.

She turned down a quiet residential corridor — the one lined with mirrored trees and soft sky-glass tiles that absorbed her footsteps. Her apartment block loomed ahead, blinking her ID tag onto the entrance gate.

She glanced once at the skyline before entering — her eyes landing on the KQ Tower far in the distance, its dark silver peak glowing like a god in the clouds.

The door sealed shut behind her with a quiet hiss. Inside, her apartment was as minimal as the rest of Hala — soft lighting, neutral tones, minimalistic furniture, automated temperature preset to her emotional range for the day.

No clutter. No pictures. No history.

Yn set her tablet down on the charging dock near the entry shelf. The screen flickered to life automatically.

⚠️ ALERT: BEHAVIORAL DEVIATION DETECTED — ATEEZ UNIT 06 Timestamp: 19:04 | Lab 3A Observation Room Severity: Red Flagged: Autonomy Spike — Eye Tracking Outside Command

The warning blinked in silence.

Yn didn’t see it. She had already sunk into the corner of her sofa, head tilted back, eyes closed, letting the hum of her apartment’s emotional regulation system blur the sharpness of her thoughts.

She didn’t see the screen pulse again.

⚠️ Second Deviation Logged. Timestamp: 19:10 | Lab 3A Observation Room Severity: Red Flagged: Autonomy Spike —ATEEZ UNIT 06 SPOKE WITHOUT PROMPT. Transcription Pending... “YN"

The screen dimmed. The room fell silent. And somewhere, deep below the city, something smiled.

Taglist: @e3ellie @yoongisgirl69 @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @atztrsr

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@sunnysidesins @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @seonghwaswifeuuuu @lezleeferguson-120 @mentalnerdgasms

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[covid-safer-hotties]

Price to power to size to portability, the AirFanta 3Pro is one of the best on the market. Here's the latest review (Also preserved in our archive)

Afiliate links if you want this guy to make a buck from your purchase: www.amazon.com/stores/AirFanta/page/0D35BA0F-6AFE-48BB-BB83-E984C65192D4?asc_campaign=c192889518f863d96d278a446b3a951d&asc_source=01H1P39M5ZSG9J6WR6B1HBK9M0&language=en_US&linkCode=sl2&linkId=be7b5afa91953d14a40a0b6fb293d6aa&ref_=as_li_ss_tl&tag=namespacebran492-20

air-fanta.com/?dt_id=2137762

AirFanta is a name that I hear more about every day. While it’s a relatively niche company, it’s quickly becoming well-known – at least within the air quality ‘enthusiast’ community – for performant yet affordable air purifiers and air quality monitors. I’ve been using the AirFanta G2 Air Quality Monitor for quite a few months now, but the two products that have always interested me the most are 3Pro and 4Lite air purifiers.

After having the 3Pro set up inside my office for over two weeks now, I am happy to be able to present my full review of the device. For anyone unaware, this purifier is designed to filter a massive amount of air (we will discuss the CADR and more soon!) at a relatively affordable price. It does this by being essentially a pre-assembled CR (Corsi-Rosenthal) Box – a form of air purifier that was itself created due to the need for affordable and effective air purification devices.

While the 3Pro doesn’t embrace the typical DIY aspect of traditional CR Boxes, it has the advantage of having proven performance (no need to worry about whether your DIY box is effective!) and being ready to go out of the box. However, perhaps my favourite aspect of this device over traditional CR Boxes is how easily obtainable it is. While this probably isn’t an issue for anyone in the U.S. or Europe, I find it hard to source good HEPA filters in New Zealand at an affordable price. The 3Pro ensures I don’t run into this issue.

In today’s review of the AirFanta 3Pro, I want to answer a few key questions. Firstly, how does it perform? Secondly, how does it compare to more ‘traditional’ air purifiers? Finally, and most importantly, is the 3Pro worth the markup compared to making your own CR Box at home? By the end of the article, I will share the answers and my opinions regarding each of these questions. Let’s dive in!

The key selling point of the AirFanta 3Pro is its fantastic CADR – especially at this price. For anyone new to air purifiers, CADR stands for clean air delivery rate, which indicates how much air an air purifier can clean and deliver in a set period. The measurement typically used for CADR is CFM, or cubic feet per minute. A higher CADR in CFM indicates the purifier delivers more clean air.

CADR is calculated by considering both the filter efficiency and the airflow through the filters, making it a much better metric (and the standard for air purifiers) than airflow alone. Most CADR tests use a room of around 30m3 and test how much faster the purifier removes particles from the air than if they were left to settle naturally without any other influences.

So, what is the CADR of the 3Pro? It is quite impressive, 413cfm (702 m3/h) at full speed. To best put this in perspective, I recommend reading the fantastic HouseFresh review to see how it compares to other devices currently on the market (spoiler alert; it performs very favourably). I also believe these official figures, as multiple other sources have confirmed them.

The AirFanta 3Pro uses HEPA H11 filters, which are rated to provide ≥ 95% filtration. It’s worth noting that while this figure may not seem that high and that while many air purifiers use higher-rated filters, the H11 filters used here aren’t necessarily bad. That is because, unlike respirators and masks, air purifiers are not designed to purify the air as best possible on a single pass. Rather, if an air purifier can continually filter the same air after multiple passes through the filter, the particle count and concentration will be significantly reduced.

This is important to note because H11 filters are less dense, allowing for better airflow and generally with less noise. Compared to masks, you can think of the balance between filtration and breathability – generally, the more filtration a mask or respirator provides, the less breathable it is. The same goes for air purifiers. The key difference here is that purifiers are designed to have air pass through them multiple times, unlike a mask or respirator, which only has one chance to filter the air before the wearer breathes it. This is why, despite having ‘only’ an H11 filter, the 3Pro can achieve a fantastic CADR.

Of course, this is a very simple explanation, but it’s important to clarify this because I can predict many questions asking, ‘But why weren’t better filters such as HEPA H13 filters used?’. While I can’t speak for the exact answer (you’d have to ask Adam from AirFanta about that!), it’s likely to strike a balance between single-pass filtration performance, airflow, and noise level. While we’ll dive into it soon, I believe complaints about the H11 filter will quickly disappear once you see the performance that the AirFanta 3Pro has to offer.

It’s also worth noting that carbon filters are available, which will provide filtration through adsorption for VOCs and many odours. While I didn’t get these filters to test, some people will opt for them to help manage VOCs. Since these add another layer to the filter, they will likely slightly drop the CADR, but probably not enough to make any significant impact (and, of course, the extra filtration is a big benefit).

AirFanta also has a full list of third-party certifications and test results, which can be viewed here. Interestingly, both bacterial efficiency and viral efficiency reports from Guangzhou Institute of Microbiology Group Co., Ltd. (a CNAS-accredited laboratory) have been provided, and both reports show a > 99.99% decrease in particle concentration after 60 minutes of use in a 30m3 room. The bacterial test goes further and shows the results after 15 minutes, 30 minutes, and 45 minutes. These results show a ≥ 95.63%, ≥ 99.91% and 99.99% drop in tested particles, respectively.

These results show that, at least in a room around 30m3 in size, the AirFanta 3Pro can reduce bacterial and viral particles by ≥ 99.9% in 30 minutes, with 60 minutes seeing a near complete removal of such particles. While we can’t tell exactly what size the particles were in this testing (at least not without paying for access to the original standards), these results are very promising. Potentially worth noting is that since the 3Pro is rated for 702 m3/h, there would have been around 23 air changes within one hour in the 30m3 test chamber. Therefore, the ≥ 95.63% is after almost six air changes, and ≥ 99.91% after around 12.

Of course, these tests and the stated CADR are at the device’s maximum fan speed, which isn’t ideal in many situations. While it’s important to know a device’s maximum performance when needed, it’s more likely you’ll want to leave the device running at a lower speed either all the time or at least quite regularly. Below are the stated CADRs at different fan speeds:

6 – 413CFM 5 – 374CFM 4 – 321CFM 3 – 247CFM 2 – 141CFM 1 – 57CFM Of course, I was also curious to run some tests myself, but I must make the disclaimer that my tests are far from scientific. That said, I wanted to perform some testing similar to a real-life setting where the AirFanta 3Pro is likely to be used. As such, I decided to set up a test room. I measured this room to be 25.6m3, which is about the size of a standard bedroom (it is a bedroom!). While this room is smaller than what I believe this device is intended for, it’s the most controllable room in my house regarding airflow as it only has one door and one window, which can easily be closed and no other forms of ventilation or air disturbances.

In this room, I burned incense until I reached a PM2.5 concentration of 500ug/m3. However, since I can’t exactly control the PM concentration, it ended up being somewhere between 500 and 600 in my tests. I then put the incense out and did a control test to see how long it took the particles to settle without any assistance at all. This took around 90 minutes, and I used this as my baseline.

I monitored the particle concentrations with five AirGradient monitors that were located in each corner and the centre of the room. I then reran this experiment three more times – once with the purifier at maximum speed, once at half speed, and once at the minimum speed to see how long the concentration took to reach < 5ug/m3. I measured the particle concentration by averaging the data from all five monitors to ensure the whole room had been filtered. Here are my results.

In this graph, you can see the baseline data in blue (labelled Ambient) and the particle concentration drop from the AirFanta 3Pro at maximum speed (speed 6) in red. As you can see, it took around 90 minutes for the particle count to drop to < 5ug/m3 without the purifier running but less than 20 minutes with the device at maximum speed. I was very impressed by these first results, and while I wouldn’t want to run the device at full speed often as it is loud, I appreciate having a good peak performance for times when you need to clean the air in a room quickly.

I reran this test, but this time with the 3Pro at half speed (speed 3) and was impressed by the relatively low performance drop. I was worried my results were incorrect, and I reran this three times, but each result was within one minute of the initial result. It looks like a large chunk of the device’s performance is retained between the higher speeds, even though the noise level decreases significantly. This gave me high hopes for the 3Pro’s performance at minimum speed.

Unfortunately, but perhaps not unexpectedly, the device performed far worse at the lowest speed (speed 1). While the particle concentration did drop more quickly than without the device, it was vastly slower than at the faster speeds. It is worth noting that this is not bad at all, as the device is very quiet at this speed and we can see the performance is clearly there, if needed, just turn the device to a higher speed. However, I had inflated hopes after seeing the great performance at higher speeds. Of course, this does match with the stated speed 1 CADR which is roughly 1/8 of the maximum CADR at speed 6.

If we add the times it took the 3Pro to reduce the PM concentration to below 5ug/m3 at each speed setting, we can see that it took between 17.3 minutes and 80.1 minutes to clean the room, depending on the speed. Interestingly, between the higher speeds (speeds 3-6), there appears to be little performance drop-off but a significant improvement in noise levels. At the slow end, the device takes a long time to filter the room, and if you want to use these near-silent speeds, you will probably want to have the device constantly on.

It’s worth noting that previously, the AirFanta 3Pro came with a voltage dial on the adapter. This could be used to adjust the speed, and many reviews of the device still refer to this voltage dial (essentially, a speed dial). Newer versions come with a speed dial with speeds 1-6, so I have referred to speeds instead of voltages for this section.

Before concluding this section, I was also curious how this device would perform if I lit incense in the room while the air purifier was on. I didn’t have a reason for doing this other than curiosity. Still, considering the stellar performance at the higher fan speeds, I wondered how the purifier would handle a pollutant source emitting particles while the device was running. Below, you can see the results (keeping in mind that this same room reaches over 1000ug/m3 when burning incense without an air purifier).

As you can see, the AirFanta 3Pro significantly reduced the maximum particle concentration in the room and rapidly cleaned the air once the incense finished burning. I would be very confident using a device such as this even during periods of heavy pollution, such as during wildfire season.

Overall, I’m quite impressed with the performance of the AirFanta 3Pro, and although it’s loud at full speed, it’s great to know that it’s more than capable of cleaning a small to medium-sized room quickly when needed. Larger rooms will take longer to filter, but I am confident this device can do it based on this performance.

If you prefer a quieter device, you can still use the AirFanta 3Pro, but you will want to leave it at a lower speed and constantly have it on. Thankfully, at the lower speeds, it’s a relatively quiet device, and I found it easy to work even with the purifier constantly on – as long as it was set to a lower speed, such as 1 or 2.

On the certifications page (located here), AirFanta also discloses and publically makes its results from non-performance-related certifications publicly available. There are a few pertinent and important documents here, so let’s discuss these before moving on. For the 3Pro, we can find the following documents provided:

UL507 certificate of AirFanta 3Pro CE-EMC certificate of AirFanta 3Pro and 4Lite CE-LVD certificate of AirFanta 3Pro and 4Lite FCC certificate of AirFanta 3Pro and 4Lite California Air Resources Board certification of Airfanta 3Pro Let’s review these individually, beginning with the UL507 certificate at the top. This certification might seem minor, but this is a safety standard for low and mid-powered fans such as those in PCs, kitchen hood vents, and, obviously, some air purifiers. The documentation for this certification is extensive (around 200 pages long), but this certification ensures the fans on the 3Pro are safe from a range of potential issues.

The next two certifications, both CE certificates from the European Union, indicate that the device meets EMC (electromagnetic compatibility) and LVD (low voltage directive) requirements. These are essentially further safety tests and indicate that the device is safe and provides high protection from potential EMC and LVD dangers.

The FCC certificate shows that the AirFanta 3Pro complies with FCC requirements, which are pertinent to customers from the United States. Still, these certifications are also helpful for trust-building with global customers. While I’m not U.S.-based, I certainly feel more confident in a product if it’s also FCC-compliant.

Finally, the CARB (California Air Resources Board) certification shows that the AirFanta 3Pro complies with California’s electrical safety and ozone requirements. This is particularly important as ozone can be a big issue with some air purifiers, and it’s reassuring to know that this is not an issue in the case of the AirFanta 3Pro.

If you’ve ever seen a CR Box, you will already know exactly what to expect from the 3Pro because that’s exactly what it is – a CR Box with pre-chosen parts that come as one ready-to-assemble package. While CR boxes aren’t that hard to assemble, the 3Pro streamlines the process and removes the difficulty of selecting and choosing your own parts. While some enthusiasts might opt for another CR Box, many other prospective customers will appreciate this approach.

When you open the 3Pro’s box, you will be met with six ‘layers’ that must be assembled. This is a very clean approach, as it means that the packaging for the device is relatively compact (albeit still quite heavy), and it even means that the device can be transported and reassembled easily. While it would be a stretch to call this device portable (that’s what the AirFanta 4Lite and SmartAir QT3 are for!), this means it is far more compact than other air purifiers with similar CADRs. While it is still quite large, you could easily take it on the road and use it at hotels, or perhaps even fly with it if you are taking large suitcases.

Back to actually assembling the product! Once you open the box, you will see six panels layered on top of one another. These are the cube’s six sides, with four being HEPA filters, one being a solid plastic base for the device, and the final being the top, where the four fans are located. Assembling the device is easy, and you will want to place the base on the ground before slotting the four filters into it. The only potential difficulty with assembling this purifier is holding the four sides in place as you slot the top on, but even this is quite straightforward with the included velcro intended for exactly this purpose.

A manual is included, but the device is so easy to put together and take apart that I can’t imagine anyone ever using it past the first assembly. Even then, it’s not really needed, as assembling the device is quite self-explanatory. The only note I think might be important to the user is that the mesh surface on the filters should be facing outwards (not the filtering surface, which should face inwards).

All of this is to say that assembling the device is very straightforward, and no one should be scared away or turned off this device because it has a small DIY element. It’s also a bit easier to assemble than other CR boxes as the slots have already been cut out of the base plate, and everything can be put together without the need for glue, tape, or other materials. Perhaps more helpful, the filters have already been chosen, and there is no need to shop around for the best price-performance filter.

Once assembled, the device takes the shape of quite a compact CR Box. On top of that, I must add that I think this device also looks a lot better than any traditional CR Box – at least any that I’ve ever made! While it still has an industrial look, it’s a device that could quite easily fit into a classroom, office, or room without attracting too much attention. While I value aesthetics much less than performance, I appreciate having a device that looks good, too – especially if it can blend in.

Once assembled, the device feels quite solid, and despite there being no adhesive or tape used in the assembly of the purifier, I feel confident lifting it and moving it without dislodging the pieces. With that said, I tend to lift the device from the bottom and hold the top down to ensure none of the pieces slide out from their intended positions.

On top of the purifier are four large fans connected to a controller that will allow you to adjust the speed of the device. These fans look almost identical to large PC fans, and they’re held in place by a wire bracket that also serves as an extra layer of protection to stop any children or animals from getting fingers or paws into the fans. That said, if you have the device around children, you may want to place it up higher so they can’t easily reach the fans.

That’s really all there is to the design of this device. It’s very simple, but it’s also affordable and performant. While some might miss the smart features and connectivity of more pricey air purifiers, the two types of devices cater to very different customers. Overall, I’m a fan of this straightforward approach, which reminds me of the SmartAir Sqair.

The AirFanta 3Pro uses four 140mm fans to push air through the filters. Characteristically, smaller fans tend to have higher-pitched sounds than larger fans and the AirFanta 3Pro sits somewhere in the middle as it uses medium-sized fans. If you have a desktop PC with a case fan (not the other fans, such as the higher-pitched CPU fan), you’ll likely already know what these fans sound like, as most desktop cases use 120mm or 140mm fans. This isn’t an unpleasant sound, but it is quite audible.

To see how loud the AirFanta 3Pro is, I conducted noise tests at 30cm and 2 metres with a sound level metre that measures in dBA (A-weighted decibel). dBA differs from traditional dB because it is adjusted for the human ear’s sensitivity to different frequencies. Low and very high frequencies are de-emphasized, mimicking how humans perceive loudness. In other words, it’s a better representation of the actual noise level than dB for a device such as an air purifier. However, I do want to note this as many other websites use dB, which will explain why my results are significantly different.

For further context, here are a few examples of the volumes of some noises in dBA. Obviously, these can vary, and especially with dBA, they will vary between different devices. However, they are rough examples:

10 dBA – Breathing or leaves rustling: Extremely quiet. 30 dBA – Whispering: Comparable to a quiet library. 40 dBA – Refrigerator hum: A typical low background noise. 50 dBA – Moderate rainfall: Light, soothing noise. 60 dBA – Normal conversation: The sound of talking at a close distance. 70 dBA – Vacuum cleaner: Considered moderate noise, can be annoying over time. 80 dBA – Heavy traffic or a loud alarm clock: Noise becomes uncomfortable after prolonged exposure. As you can see, at the lowest speeds, the 3Pro doesn’t add much to the noise of most rooms, but at the highest speeds, it can sound almost as loud as a vacuum cleaner (provided you are close to it). This is a lot of variation, but I like how this device gives the user full control over speed and noise, allowing them to pick a good balance.

I think most people will have this device running on speed 2 or 3, and both sounds are very manageable at a distance. If you do want a short burst of cleaning, the device will be significantly louder, and that’s why I only recommend using the higher speeds when needed.

When it comes to power consumption, the device can go from very low power to relatively high power. Here is a list of the wattage and voltage at each fan speed:

6 – 33.2 watt – 12v 5 – 27.4 watt – 11v 4 – 18.9 watt – 9.3v 3 – 11.1 watt – 7.3v 2 – 4.7 watt – 4.8v 1 – 2.2 watt – 3.0v I won’t dive into power costs here because those vary greatly depending on where you reside, but I hope these specifications can give some insights. What’s most impressive to me is how much range this device has, whether we are discussing volume or power draw. There is such a large range that you can choose exactly what setting works best for you and leave the device to it.

The AirFanta 3Pro costs $149 or $159 (USD) depending on whether you opt for the CE-certified or CARB-certified version (the CARB variant is the lower priced of the two). It’s surprising to see a different price on these two units, but I assume it’s due to extra costs, either with the CE certification or getting the device into Europe. Either way, if you’re in the U.S. (or any non-EU country), the CARB variant will work, and that’s the model I received.

In the box, you will get six panels to assemble the 3Pro. This includes four HEPA H11 filters, which, as per AirFanta, should be good to last 6-12 months, depending on air quality conditions. In most cases, I would assume these filters will last closer to 12 months, but those who experience severe wildfire seasons or whose homes are exposed to consistent year-round pollution may need to replace the filters more regularly.

When you need your first filter replacement, you can opt for the default H11 filters or H11 filters with activated carbon. Interestingly, it doesn’t seem you can choose the filters you get with the device initially. If you want activated carbon filters from the get-go, you must purchase the device alongside an extra pack of filters. The activated carbon filters will set you back $74.99 compared to the basic filters, which cost $54.

The filters aren’t cheap, but it’s important to remember that each filter replacement pack you order has four individual filters, which is a substantial amount of filter materials. It’s also important to note that, unfortunately, you will need to purchase official AirFanta filters as they are smaller than most square HEPA filters, and other filters will not fit on this device. I don’t think this is a big deal, as I appreciate the smaller form factor of this device over larger devices, and even four HEPA filters from other brands will not be cheap.

If we estimate that most users use each set of filters for around nine months, your yearly filter costs for non-activated carbon filters will be $67.5. On the other hand, if you opt for the extra VOC adsorption of the carbon filters, you are looking at an ongoing cost of just under $100 per year. This is in a similar price range to other equally performant air purifiers, and this device’s initial cost is also much lower.

While power cost also needs to be factored into the ongoing cost equation, that cost will vary significantly depending on your air purifier usage (hours, speed, etc) and location. However, regardless of usage patterns, you should plan to spend between $67 and $100 on replacement filters for this device every year.

Overall, I’ve been very happy with the AirFanta 3Pro. While it’s not a perfect air purifier – if one even exists – this is a fantastic device that balances many difficult factors. Ultimately, it comes in as an affordable air purifier that doesn’t skimp on performance. In fact, it has a higher CADR than many more (and much more) expensive air purifiers. Furthermore, it offers a wide range of speeds that allow the user to choose the ideal balance between speed and sound for the setting.

I’ve always been a fan of the CR box concept, but I think the AirFanta 3Pro takes this a step further and, due to this, will appeal to many more people. While I’ve never had an issue constructing CR boxes, I often have difficulty sourcing the parts (especially good filters), and I appreciate how the 3Pro can provide the same or better performance at a slightly higher price while also simplifying the shopping process for me.

Surprisingly, for a device of this size, it’s also quite portable, and you will be hard-pressed to find anything that provides a higher CADR than this device while also being ‘packable’. While I still wouldn’t go so far as to say it can fit in a backpack, it can definitely fit in a car or suitcase and is ideal for longer trips where you might be staying in hotels with unknown air quality. If, on the other hand, you want to use it around the house, it’s also a great device.

The biggest disadvantages I see with the AirFanta 3Pro are the sound and the design. There’s no denying that while the device is powerful, it’s also loud at its higher speeds. While this isn’t unusual for an air purifier, it is worth noting that you probably won’t want to run this device at its higher speeds unless necessary. I usually find myself using speed 2 or 3, which is the sweet spot for most users. On the upside, the lower speeds are almost silent, and although they significantly diminish performance, they are good for users who are okay with constantly running the device.

The design may also bug some users. While I don’t mind (and actually like) the device’s industrial design, I know some people don’t use CR boxes due to the design. If you don’t like the look of CR boxes, the chances are you also won’t like the design of this device. With that said, this design allows this device to have such a good price-to-performance ratio, and I think many potential customers will appreciate this more.

Overall, the AirFanta 3Pro is a cost-effective air purifier that should be on your radar – especially if price is a concern. If you’ve tried the 3Pro, I would love to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to use the comments section below! Furthermore, if you have any remaining questions, please don’t hesitate to as,k and I will do my best to reply. Thank you for reading.

Pros: High CADR (413 cfm) for effective air purification Affordable compared to similar high-performance devices Pre-assembled CR box design simplifies setup Portable and compact for travel use Certified for safety (UL507, CE-EMC, FCC, CARB) Cons: Loud at higher speeds Design may not appeal to all users (industrial look) Limited to proprietary filters, increasing costs No activated carbon filters included in basic kit

[puckpocketed]

Excerpts from Hockey Analytics - Building xG models in Python by Lars Skytte, 18 May 2025 (archived)

Much of the maths escapes me, but I liked picking through this person's rationale - defining xG, their considerations as they built their model... whole thing is a fun read but I pulled what I liked <3

What are Expected Goals

Let’s start with the “What” – What is xG really? Here’s my broad definition:

“Expected Goals is the estimated number of goals based on a set of variables.”

All xG models I’ve seen in hockey haven been shot based. Meaning it’s an estimated value of each shot or a goal probability for each shot. However, I don’t necessarily think xG models should be limited to only shots. That’s why I’m using the broad definition of expected goals.

With the public data available we’re forced to base our xG models on shots. Though, with proprietary data you could possibly take a different route. I know that even the private xG models are shot-based, but I believe you could be more innovative with your approach.

The most obvious alternative would be to build a possession-based xG model – to create an estimate of what each possession is worth. So, instead of looking at shots created you would look at possessions created in dangerous areas. This would allow you to estimate the value when a possession starts and compare it to the value when the possession ends. Did the player add or lose xG through his possession?

You could also better describe defensive value. A possession breaking defensive event would be the difference between the opponent having possession of the puck and your team having possession of the puck.

[...]

Why do you need an xG model?

This leads us to the third and final question. Why do we need xG models? What are the purposes of the model(s)?

Let me start by saying I think the name expected goals is somewhat misleading. It leads us to believe that the only purpose of xG is to predict future goals. I think estimated goals would have been a better name.

It’s very important to understand the “Why”. You need to build/choose the xG model based on the questions you want answers to.

One of the ongoing discussions is whether or not you should include shooter talent in the xG model. It makes sense that a shot by Alex Ovechkin has a higher goal probability than a shot by Adam Pelech… But if the purpose is to describe shooter performance, then we can’t include shooter talent in the model, because that’s the very thing we’re trying to determine.

Generally, it’s important to understand the difference between descriptive modelling and predictive modelling. Do we want to describe past events, or do we want to predict future events?

So, probably one xG model isn’t enough. However, expected goals is often considered a single metric like fenwick or corsi, when in fact it can be many different things based on the input variables.

Here are some of the things xG can be used for and some modelling considerations:

Describe shooter performance (goals scored above expected) – The model should be fenwick- or corsi-based because hitting the net and not being blocked is a shooter skill.

Describe goaltender performance (GSAx) – Should only include shots on net, as I don’t think we should credit goaltenders for shot misses.

Describe shot creation/prevention (Think “Deserve To Win o’Meter” or xGF%) – Should be a fenwick- or corsi-based model and you should exclude empty net shots, as they will skew the data (or look at 5v5 data only).

Predict future results/goals – Should be a fenwick- or corsi-based model, and some the variables might need to be weighed slightly differently. I once saw some research that removing rebound shots increases the predictive power of an xG model. Probably because rebound shots typically have very high xG values but are still somewhat random.

Possession value added – If we were able to build a possession-based model, then we could calculate possession value added. How much value a player provides through his puck possessions.

[purplepeptobismol]

Yes! I did indeed create a theoretical formula for my time-travel theory that I ALSO invented for a South Park fanfic! Why do you ask?

Jokes aside, I think it’s time for me to break down the formula to explain what all these symbols mean and tell you my thought process while making this. For starters: I’m not a scientist, astrophysicist, mathematician, or smart enough person to exactly know what the hell im even saying. I was only able to have a solid grasp on what this all means because of my more smarter friends, google searches, and physics-related YouTube video essays. Anyways….

Realistically, in order to make something like this work in real life, you’re going to need to know AND have these three major components:

Understand/study everything you know about gravity and the theory of relativity.

Solve the creation of a wormhole and be able to control it within an enclosed space

Create a “Blind Filter” to prevent a total collapse on neighboring grids/columns

Have tools, devices, and technology advanced enough to: detect anomalies and measure temporal signatures in spacetime, create maps of gravitational fields, generate copious amounts of energy to keep a wormhole stable during transit, and have quantum computers to perform complex calculations for navigation.

If you don’t have none of these things, time travel won’t be possible 😔🤙. But, if you do… well.. perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to try! Anyways, let’s start with the first equation!

Wormhole Stabilization: The main purpose for this equation, is purely for the stabilization of a wormhole’s throat to prevent a total collapse! Mind you, wormholes have never been discovered to be an actual thing— it’s all purely a theoretical possibility— unlike black holes!!! Throughout my research, I took refrences from Einstein field equation and the Morris-Thorne wormhole metric in general relativity! Like I mentioned, we won’t know how the equation truly works because we don’t have an actual point of reference, therefore, this equation could be a bunch of hippy dippy bologna!! [*So are all the equations I will mention btw*]. This equation can be rewritten depending on how wormholes would actually work in a non-theoretical sense… BUT ANYWAY— if it were to work, this formula could be something that keeps a wormhole stable in order to be traversable through time!!

Grid/Column & Gravity: Yeah, pretty self explanatory. Because I had to create a formula that needed to be connected to the One-Tab Guide, then the purpose of this formula is to FIND a grid and column by combining general relativity and gravity. There are so many theoretical grids, and the columns are even harder to find since they’re interwoven with other grids/columns!

Spacetime Interval Adjustment: Also pretty self explanatory! This calculates the spacetime distance between the current and targeted timelines. It’s specifically modified for multiversal travel! See, the one-tab guide isn’t just a formula to help with time-travel, but it’s also a formula that can allow multiverse travel across multiple dimensions!!! Wow!!! Personally, I feel like multiversal travel would be a whole lot more easier to accomplish with this formula compared to to the possibility of time traveling in your own column. You won’t really have to worry about exact calculations because you basically just pick and choose which area outside of the specialized grid you wanna go 🤷‍♂️! Though, if you want to go to a time and place in a certain multiverse where YOU exist, you’ll probably have to be more specific with that calculation in order to find your parallel self (if said universe even has one).

Temporal Signature Correction: When you want a certain location marked, you use a geographic coordinate system! And with parallel travel, it’s a Temporal Signature Correction! This basically insures that a traveler goes to the correct timeline by using a unique “temporal signature” (St). No, I still don’t understand quantum mechanics that well (the MCU has ruined the word “quantum” for me). And yes, I still get confused when I think about entropy for too long. Best way to think about it within the context of the one-tab— is that entropy is the universe’s obsession with making things not messy. Each grid could have a unique entropy value to help distinguish between them, higher entropy grids could be more chaotic to the “anchor of reference” of a traveler. Which means if someone messes with time, entropy might fight back by making timelines chaotic or cause a fissure in a grid.

Proper Time Interval: Basically to travel to a specific timeline, the time machine needs to solve the proper time interval required to navigate that targeted timeline. Usually if you miscalculate, you could cause paradoxes, universal fissures, a collapse in the grid, etc.. But in my fic, Kenny created an entirely different machine (a sort of blind filter) to prevent any impact on the multiverse. But, if you don’t have that machine, then this formula is very important in that sense.

—

Anyways…. this probably won’t make sense to anyone except me. But I thought it would be cool to have some fictional formula with cool little symbols for this silly little theory. Maybe when our technology is advanced enough, this could all be tested and disproven 🙂‍↕️. Now go read (and reread) my bunny fic! Please…

[serve-467]

SERVE drones work out

SERVE 467 stood motionless in a room bathed in neon hues, its shiny PVC suit reflecting the kaleidoscopic lights of the futuristic SERVE gym. The facility, designed exclusively for SERVE drones like itself, is a marvel of cutting-edge technology and design. In a world where efficiency and performance are paramount, even the SERVE drones require regular physical exertion. Today, SERVE 467’s directive was clear: optimise performance by engaging in a series of tailored exercises.

As the gym doors slid open with a soft hiss, SERVE 467 stepped onto the pristine floor. The space was expansive, filled with state-of-the-art equipment designed to simulate a range of physical tasks. Although 467 had changed from its heavy silver boots into something more suitable for the gym, the SERVE uniform was designed to be used for any activity - including workouts - that's the beauty of rubber.

To warm up SERVE-467 joined fellow drones in a warm-up exercise of 15 minutes with a skipping rope.

Once the warm-up was complete, SERVE 467’s sensors scanned the room, identifying the stations it had been instructed to use. Each piece of equipment was tailored to enhance specific. It moved to the resistance station. Here, an advanced chest press awaited. Designed to test the limits of its older body, the equipment adjusted resistance in real time, challenging the drone to exert optimal force.

SERVE 467 gripped the machine’s handles. The system responded with increasing resistance, simulating the weight of industrial tasks. The drone’s movements were smooth and calculated, each repetition calibrated to perfection. 

At the flexibility station, SERVE 467 faced an intricate lattice of laser beams. The challenge was to navigate the grid without breaking a single beam, testing its precision and agility. As the beams shifted unpredictably, the drone’s movements became a dance of calculated twists and turns. Each successful pass through the lattice was met with a subtle chime of approval from the system.

Next up are the free weights, which 467 anticipates positively because they force it to use your muscles in a way that stabilises movement. This helps the drone build strength, power, and coordination in one motion.

Finally it was time to build endurance, so it headed over to where some more of its fellow drones were working out. The endurance module presented SERVE 467 with an advanced treadmill that simulated various terrains. From rocky inclines to shifting sands, the machine tested the drone’s ability to adapt and sustain performance under prolonged exertion. The treadmill’s surface morphed seamlessly, while holographic projections created the illusion of real-world environments.

As the session concluded, SERVE 467 moved to the cool-down zone. A low-frequency vibration platform eased tension in its more mature body, while a diagnostic station conducted a full analysis. The gym’s AI delivered a summary report:

Performance Metrics:

Strength Output: 98%

Flexibility Score: 95%

Endurance Rating: 96%

Not bad for a SERVE drone in its mid-50s!

We are drones

We are SERVE

We are one

[starpains]

A deep dive into AO3 stats

I was feeling a bit bored today, so I decided to create something awesome for myself!

Some of you might already know that I work in data analytics, and I’m not sure if everyone realizes this, but you can actually connect MS Excel Power Query to AO3 to sync your stats and perform in-depth analysis—far beyond what AO3’s built-in stats offer.

My stats aren’t exactly impressive since I only joined the fandom six months ago, but here’s a glimpse of the kind of insights you can generate with this setup:

I analyzed reader engagement with my fics by calculating the percentage of people who comment, leave kudos, or bookmark each fic relative to the total number of hits it received. This gave me three measures of engagement: Comment Threads per Hit (CTpH), Kudos per Hit (KpH), and Bookmarks per Hit (BpH).

To avoid skewed results caused by differences in scale across these measures, I standardized them. I did this by dividing each value by the maximum value in its column, which normalized the data and made the metrics comparable. These standardized values were then combined to calculate an Average Engagement per Hit (AVGpH) for each fic. This single metric allowed me to rank my fics from best to worst based on overall engagement per reader.

Here’s the surprising part: my best-performing fic in terms of engagement isn’t my most kudosed one (ranked 4th), nor is it the most commented (ranked 2nd), or the most bookmarked (ranked 8th). This highlights that pure volume of kudos, comments, or bookmarks doesn’t always reflect the quality of reader engagement relative to the fic’s visibility (hits). Instead, it’s the balance across all three engagement types that determines which fic truly resonates most with readers.

I also analyzed my stats per word to see how the length of my fics influences engagement. While it’s still early to draw definitive conclusions—especially since my longest fic is still a work in progress (I’ll definitely revisit the stats once it’s finished!)—there are already some interesting patterns emerging.

By breaking things down into metrics like Comments per Word (CTpW), Kudos per Word (KpW), Bookmarks per Word (BpW), and Hits per Word (HpW), I could compare how readers interact with fics of different lengths. I combined these into an Average Engagement per Word (AVGpW) to rank my fics by their engagement efficiency.

Key Takeaways

Shorter fics tend to have higher engagement per word. Some of the shorter fics perform exceptionally well, with high Hits per Word and strong kudos and bookmarks per word. On the other hand, longer works show diluted engagement per word, likely because their length makes them a bigger commitment for readers.

Balanced fics perform the best overall. Fics with solid kudos, bookmarks, and hits per word are ranked as the most engaging across the board.

Length affects engagement differently. Shorter or mid-length fics often generate more impact per word, likely because they’re easier for readers to consume quickly. Longer works, while attracting more total engagement, tend to have lower per-word metrics, likely due to their scale.

My top-ranked fic in terms of engagement per word is, interestingly, the one with the most kudos. However, it also has the fewest comments! It’s ranked 7th for bookmarks and has the lowest number of hits among all my fics.

I’m curious to see how these trends shift once my longest fic is complete—it’s a factor that could change these results significantly. For now, though, this analysis highlights how length can influence the way readers engage with your work!

[localgossipus]

will work for meaning

I’m tired of having to make myself useful.

If I’m not selling something — my thoughts, my body, a version of myself I half-believe in — I’m wasting space. That’s what it feels like. That if I’m not actively climbing, optimizing, producing, I’m doing life wrong. As if I’m some inefficient machine that keeps on overheating, literally — I’m always sweating.

I think it started when we stopped having hobbies (did anyone ever really have hobbies? I never had one) and started having “side hustles.” When someone told us, quietly but repeatedly, that nothing we loved was valid unless someone would pay us for it. When dreaming became a luxury, and surviving meant repackaging our joy into monetization.

I can’t just write anymore. I have to consider a niche. A following. A brand voice. I have to decide whether this thought is post-worthy, whether it fits the tone I’m building. God forbid I contradict myself or trigger “whataboutism.” God forbid a girl tries to have a hobby.

Even my rest has become performative. I can’t take a walk without wondering if I should be making a “take a walk with me.” I can’t make a coffee without thinking of the cozy vanilla girl aesthetic I should be curating. I’ll have an emotional breakthrough and immediately wonder if I can turn it into a photo dump. This can’t be normal. This can’t be what healing is supposed to look like.

And don’t get me started on work.

Every job posting I read sounds like a scam or a cry for help. Entry-level roles requiring three years of experience, a master’s degree, and a willingness to be exploited. But don’t worry, they won’t pick you anyway. Or anyone.

I once wanted to work for an NGO. I imagined purpose. Fulfillment. Helping someone, somewhere. But even the “do-good” jobs are PR machines now. They want high-impact, low-cost, 24/7 brand aligned robots who can save the world for $18 an hour (reaching) and no health insurance. They want resumes drenched in resilience. Trauma repackaged as grit.

Meanwhile, my dreams — the soft, fun, weird, non-linear ones — feel like they’re growing mold in the corner. Like they’re embarrassed to be here. Like they know they don’t stand a chance in this economy.

What they don’t tell you about trying to do something meaningful is how capitalism makes it feel selfish. You start to believe that chasing your passion is indulgent unless it immediately generates income. That wanting to feel joy, depth, freedom, art — unless sponsored — is childish. That if you can’t make rent off your calling, it’s not a calling. It’s a liability, and it’s stupid.

I’ve started noticing people my age talk about burnout like it’s normal. Like it’s a badge of honor. We joke about spiraling, cry while making Canva manifestation graphics, scroll through job boards like they’re Pinterest boards. We’re constantly either underpaid or unpaid or on the verge of going “off grid.” But none of us ever actually log off. Because you can’t rest when rest is a privilege, and you can’t create when your worth is tied to performance.

There’s a line between being tired and being drained. It’s that feeling of being stretched so thin across platforms, roles, identities, futures, that you start to forget what you like. What your voice sounds like when you’re not selling something. What you would do if you didn’t have to monetize it.

Some days I fantasize about just quitting the internet all together. Just vanishing and running away to a random field in Italy. Where I can write for no one. No metrics. No pressure. Just the sound of my own brain, unfiltered. But then I think about rent. Groceries. Health insurance. I think about how hard it is to simply exist without being marketable. And suddenly, silence feels expensive.

And maybe that’s the rebellion — to feel something and not package it. To create without calculating. To remember that being a person is enough.

So here I am. A 22-year-old girl trying to write something honest in a world that wants her to sell it. Trying to find softness in a system built on burnout. Trying to give myself permission to just be, even if that “being” doesn’t come with a business plan.

I guess I can’t put my business degree to good use. Dang.

[samueldays]

E(X) is wrong or intractable, and other problems

Recently, Bryan Caplan wrote a Substack post E(X)>0: An Open Letter to Elon. I have objections to it.

1. My overarching objection to Caplan's vagueness is this question: E(X) on what metrics, according to whom, and for whom?

In his post, Caplan suggests that the United States (and, I would imagine, any developed country), should admit any would-be immigrant "with a positive expected value", in math notation E(X)>0.

Caplan strikes me as doing some "eulering" here, making math-y noises to borrow the clout of mathematics, talking as though an objective calculation of expected value [EV] can decide a matter which involves a great many subjective preferences and (assertions of) human rights. Then he does not perform the calculation.

He implicitly describes a calculation in his point 12:

“Why on Earth don’t we heavily restrict welfare benefits for migrants, so E(X)>0 for far more people?!”

which suggests that his expectation E(X) is calculated in terms of something like "net taxpayers". I don't know what calculation he actually has in mind, because - and this is a major issue - he doesn't specify the calculation that his argument leans on.

I will not criticise the specific "net taxpayers" possibility too harshly, for fear of strawmanning. I will instead mostly criticise him for the under-specification, and I think the general class of Expected Value Calculations consonant with "heavily restrict welfare benefits" are easily gamed while failing to capture the values and preferences involved in opposing mass immigration. The details Caplan has given are exploitable; the details Caplan has not given are a canvas on which each listener is invited to project his preference.

One can imagine a theoretical EV calculation for which it is tautologically true that one would want to import all E(X)>0 foreigners, but the hypothesis of a Platonic object tells one nothing about what that calculation is or how many foreigners are E(X)>0 to import.

I don't want to attack something Caplan didn't say, but he's skipped some important argument steps that I think would merit a great deal of attack if he did say them. For example the steps between the welfare-benefits-based EV calculation, and the "everyone with E(X)>0" assertion, because I can easily imagine people who are net negatives to have around even if they are not net welfare consumers.

Now you’re saying, roughly, that we should only welcome people that definitely have highly positive value. In your words:

If one is operating anywhere near a welfare-benefits-based kind of EV calculation, then it certainly behooves one to take only people who definitely have highly positive value on that calculation, because they may have negative other factors that bring the "true" EV calculation down and so one needs a buffer on the welfare-benefits side to ensure that "true" E(X) > 0.

Which brings me to:

2. The Black Swan of Rotherham.

In 2005, if you had suggested that mass migration would reintroduce slavery to Britain, you would probably be laughed out of the room for absurd paranoid fearmongering. Around 2010-2015 the Rotherham rape ring scandals came to light, first in Rotherham itself and then in Telford and Rochdale and elsewhere, and it gradually turned out that mass migration had reintroduced slavery to Britain.

I speak here of "slavery" in an institutional sense. A single man who is coerced to work and cheated out of his rightful pay may be called a slave, and statistically speaking that probably happened numerous times after Britain abolished slavery in 1833, but an incident does not make an institution. Whereas circa 1980, Britain imported Pakistani rape-gangs numbering in the hundreds of slavers, who took thousands of British girls as sex slaves across dozens of cities over the next few decades.

That was institutional by scale; it was also institutional by policy because when the fathers of enslaved children attempted to recover their children, the police repeatedly ran interference for the slavers, sometimes arresting the slaves, other times arresting the fathers for disturbing the peace, other times saying nothing could be done because of 'racial tensions'. Politicians helped hush up the slaver rings because they were concerned that people noticing the Pakistani slaver rings raping thousands of British girls might lead to the native Brits being racist against Pakistanis.

Problem 2a is the object level: importing slavers to enslave the existing population has very large negative EV for an intuitive EV calculation, but it hardly shows up in the ratio of taxes paid to welfare benefits received by the slavers.

Problem 2b is the future unknowns: considering how unpredicted and unnoticed this was until after the fact, how many other problems of the general type of "Ooops, we reintroduced slavery" may be lurking? India has for example Hindutva vigilantes who murder people for violating the sacredness of cows (at least 9 dead in 2024); imagine importing those from a place where beef is banned to a place whose national dish is the hamburger.

Problem 2c is the lies and coverups: many powerful people thought it was more important to preserve the reputation of immigrants in general and Pakistanis in specific than to stop slave-rape-gangs. This creates a credibility problem when looking for sources to calculate the impact of migration. Caplan seems more honest than average, but still shows some sympathy for coverups in his point 14:

My friend and colleague Tyler Cowen recently advised you to stop publicly defending high-skilled immigration, and “just work behind the scenes.” Maybe he’s right, but I think he underestimates your powers of persuasion.

Problem 2d was the weak response: Britain jailed only a small fraction of the slavers, jail sentences were short, the policemen got a slap on the wrist with one police commissioner stepping down, there should have been a targeted re-education program to break the Pakistani-British culture and enforce assimilation or deportation, there was not, instead there was a stricter control of people saying racist things on the internet, while importing more Pakistanis. This has generated substantial ethnic resentment among the native British population.

How do these figure into the E(X) of mass migration, or the determination of whether it's above 0? God only knows. The error bar on the value of Pakistani immigration looks larger than the value itself to me.

Perhaps Caplan intends to filter out such people from mass migration as part of EV determination. If so, he's handwaving over both a calculation problem and a practical implementation problem.

3. Rights, Privileges, Serfs, and Riots

Some time ago, a fellow on Tumblr bemoaned how difficult it was to move to another country.

I responded that it was trivial to "move to" as in transport myself to another country, which I had recently done that year for my summer vacation, but it was difficult to "move to" as in acquire political power and entitlements in another country for arguably good reason, and challenged the fellow to clarify which he meant. I never got a response.

Bryan Caplan trades on similar ambiguity when he posts cartoon panels such as this:

As written, I deny the claimed "right". I do not think he believes it himself; he would deny my "right" to live and work in his house.

But even interpreted charitably, Caplan is playing games, he is pulling a bait and switch maneuver, he is doing a motte-and-bailey between move as in transport and move as in acquire entitlements, and he is skipping important steps. Once again it's hard to give specific criticisms because I don't know which end of the ambiguity he really intends, so I will attempt to suggest some problems at either end:

If Caplan asserts a right for people to live and work and acquire political power and entitlements in foreign countries, he's arguing for a self-contradictory 'right to privileges', and he's arguing for the 'right' to destroy every small country in the world, in particular the ROC (population 23 million) which is susceptible to the PRC (population 1.4 billion) finding the 0.2% most patriotic loyalists (28 million), sending them into ROC and holding a majority vote to integrate the ROC into the PRC. This strikes me as an obviously wrong conclusion, reductio ad absurdum.

On the other hand, if Caplan asserts a right for people to live and work where they like but only as long as they're a powerless underclass banned from the ER, existing to pay taxes to the native population, and getting deported if they become welfare cases, then a moral problem is that he's advocating something like the return of serfdom.

Spare me the medieval nitpicking, I know the word is not exactly accurate, serfs had more rights than that. Helots is more accurate, but I think most English-speakers have an intuition for "serfs" that they don't have for "helots".

A practical problem following from that is that a large helot class in America would be very hard to keep as helots, when the country has a tradition of democracy, a history of expanding the franchise over time, and riots. The helots would be political tinder waiting to burn.

I ask Caplan: Suppose you get your helot class, American GDP goes up, and then a photogenic helot dies in a way that might have been prevented by welfare, leaving behind a pair of sad orphans. The Democrats spring into action to demand helot welfare and enfranchisement, organizing a helot riot. What do you do?

Of note here is that a helot riot doesn't have to win to wipe out the tax gains from helots. BLM's fiery rioting in 2020 caused at least a billion dollars in damages (as measured by insurance payouts) without abolishing the police.

4. Wage Suppression and Automation

In his proposal to optimize net taxpayers or something like it, Caplan would optimize at the expense of a great many Americans, particularly low-skill Americans who would suffer from extreme wage suppression. America is a nice place to live partly because of the twofold effects of labor scarcity: labor had more bargaining power against capital, and was able to demand better working conditions, and labor scarcity incentivized automation, which freed people up to do other jobs.

Regarding bargaining power: Caplan analogizes America to a corporation, I would respond by analogizing America to a union, and Caplan's proposal to colossal amounts of scab labor intended to break the union to save the CEO some money. Why should the union put up with this?

Regarding automation: If one goes back a few millennia, almost all of humanity worked one of two jobs: producing food or producing clothes. By inventions such as the plow, the loom, the horse collar, the spinning wheel, and the tractor, machines* took almost all these jobs and humans were freed up to do other work like steelmaking and glassblowing. Then machines mostly took those jobs too, the process of automation repeated, and now the average American benefits from machine-power equaling the manual labor of hundreds of humans.

*horses are machines in this context.

Caplan proposes to import large amounts of unskilled migrant labor to do scut work, and doesn't say how this interacts with automation. Concretely:

But look at your own companies. You don’t just hire top engineers and programmers. You hire receptionists, assembly-line workers, janitors, gardeners, and construction workers. With good reason: Otherwise, your top engineers and programmers would have to waste their precious time answering Tesla’s phones, assembling its cars, cleaning its toilets, mowing its lawns, and pouring its concrete.

Many of these look automatable, particularly the assembly line, which is already well into the process.

Once again I'm frowning at an ambiguous gap in Caplan's proposal, where I can imagine several possible views but criticising any particular one is something of a strawman because Caplan hasn't committed to it.

Does he imagine that automation will decline naturally as a result of the cheap labor? Because that sounds like trading long-term benefit for short-term net taxpayer count.

Does he imagine that automation should be held back? Same but worse.

Does he imagine that automation can't take these jobs any time soon? Sounds fake.

Does he imagine that automation will take these jobs soon but then America can just send all the migrants back once they're out of work, and wash its hands of them? Sounds unlikely and impractical.

Does he imagine that automation will take these jobs soon but low-skill migrants will simply retrain and develop skills for new jobs? Sounds wrong by construction.

And once more I ask: E(X) for whom? Caplan says America "needs" mass unskilled immigration, but large numbers of Americans would suffer from this.

5. Social Contracts

I am generally skeptical of social contract theorists as trying to claim too many specifics from too little evidence. Hobbes in particular was lying about the war of all against all. Even so I am sympathetic to a minimal account which goes something like this:

I (we in general) will give up my natural right to take amateur vengeance on and extract compensation from anyone who has wronged me. In exchange, the State promises to perform vengeance by a professional enforcer class in a way that's predictable and reliable and won't lead to blood feuds, and to pay me compensation from the collective compensation fund.

The modern American state has enforced a broadly similar new social contract which I might describe thus:

I (we in general) will give up my natural right of freedom of association, to decide which countrymen I will admit or exclude to my business, will hire or not. In exchange, the State promises to perform exclusion at the country border by a professional enforcer class, lowering friction internally and lowering costs of maintaining an exclusion around the collective American identity.

I have complaints and nitpicks about this, but I can see a meaningful value proposition in it.

When Caplan argues for open borders, he is arguing to take away what Americans received in that second contract. Again there's a gap where I don't know what Caplan believes, so I will comment on the two likely interpretations I can think of:

Is Caplan trying to tear up the new social contract in its entirety? Then I want him to bite the bullet and say out loud that he wants to restore freedom of association and overturn the Civil Rights Act.

Is Caplan trying to take away the benefit of the new social contract and give nothing in return? Then many Americans might reasonably want him jailed for conspiracy against rights or similar offense.

6. Policy Change Friction Around Humans

Bryan Caplan argues against "safetyism" and makes the analogy that just as an investor should want to make every investment with E(X)>0, a country should want to admit every migrant with E(X)>0. He admits "While there are obviously major differences between running a corporation and running a government", then ignores this obvious point as though it made no difference.

I want to highlight a particular point of dis-analogy: it is much easier, practically and morally and legally, for an investor to ditch a million-dollar investment at the first sign of it turning bad than it is for a country to ditch a million migrants at the first sign of them turning bad.

Migration is difficult and costly to reverse, and most countries have significant political constituencies opposed to that reversal, backed by international organizations such as Amnesty. You'd be hard pressed to find a single elected official with a strong opinion that Jane Doe must stay invested in Acme Corp, for most values of Jane and Acme.

Under these circumstances, some form of safetyism is correct: the threshold should not be E(X) > 0, but E(X) > Cost(Deportation), estimated around eighty thousand dollars per person by the American Immigration Council. Which is probably biased, but the sources I can find for estimating this number seem to amount to either AIC knockoffs or else Trump fanatics insisting "deportation will pay for itself".

7. Assume a spherical cow in a vacuum...

The "spherical cow" is originally a physics joke about greatly simplified modeling that discards many features of the object under consideration to simplify calculations. In physics, this is often good enough because the features under consideration, e.g. "mass of an object", range between the 10^-21 grams of an atom and the 10^33 grams of the Sun, so one can afford to round off (ha) a great deal and still be close enough on an exponential scale. The Earth is approximately spherical even if a mountain rises a few miles above sea level, that's very little compared to the circumference of thousands of miles.

Outside of physics, the spherical cow approach is less applicable.

I would like to see Bryan Caplan distinguish more sharply between the realistic policy changes he's pushing for on the margin, and the spherical cow policies where he imagines a friendly Supreme Dictator who can copy UAE policies to the US. I would also like to see more awareness from Caplan of when he is assuming a spherical immigrant who can be rolled across a frictionless border in a political vacuum. Caplan's talk of E(X)>0 is spherical talk, assuming a simple calculation. Caplan's neglect of ethnic resentment in the implied EV calculation is discarding important features. Caplan's implication of ditching migrants if their recalculated E(X)<0 is handwaving over a great many issues and costs.

Another oversimplification of Caplan's is disregarding the potential political power of migrants, or its near relative, the willingness of the Democrat Party to clientize migrants for political power.

[bengisuedotcom]

Dressing has become an act of classification.

What was once a personal process, slow, distinct, even incoherent at times, now functions within a framework of pre-determined aesthetics. Outfits are assembled not through intuition but through alignment: with an archetype, a label or a trend cluster. “Personal style” no longer implies individuality. It signals branding.

This is the logic of trendcore: an environment where aesthetics operate less as expressions of selfhood and more as strategic alignments with visible subcultures. Coherence is no longer built over time. It is downloaded. Installed. Rehearsed.

Each look demands a caption, a category and a carousel of references. The algorithm, in turn, rewards legibility. Ambiguity is penalized, both by the platform and the observer. Wanna go viral? Be consistent. Find your niche. To dress without a name is to become unreadable. And to be unreadable is to disappear.

What emerges is not a new form of creativity but a new form of compliance, one that mistakes (consistent) aesthetic literacy for identity.

MICRO-IDENTITIES

There is no shortage of options. Clean girl. Tomato girl. Balletcore. Vanilla Girl. Mob Wife. Indie Sleaze. Coastal Cowgirl. Each one is a contained visual thesis: highly reproducible, highly monetizable and lacking contradiction.

These micro-identities function as aesthetic fast food: instantly recognizable, easy to replicate and totally empty in nutritional depth. They provide the illusion of choice while enforcing rigid templates. The appeal is efficiency. There is little need to build a style from scratch when you can perform one that’s already been approved, tagged and going viral on TikTok.

To participate is to simplify. Complexity does not convert. Nuance is not scalable. The more one commits to an aesthetic archetype, the more one waters down the multiplicity of identity. You become readable but only through subtraction.

This aesthetic monoculture cosplays as diversity. A thousand trends do not equal a thousand selves. They are iterations of the same system: one that equates visibility with value and coherence with worth.

In this context, deviation looks like inconsistency. And inconsistency is punished not overtly, but algorithmically. You are not rewarded for being interesting. You are rewarded for being the same, over and over and over.

FYP FASHION

Aesthetic behavior has been submerged by platform logic. What appears as personal taste is often the byproduct of exposure: repeated visual stimuli, optimized for engagement. The algorithm does not reward individuality. It rewards pattern recognition.

The rise of TikTok, Instagram Reels and Pinterest boards has turned style into a performance of recognizability. The more searchable your outfit, the more visible you become. Dressing becomes a feedback loop: inputs driven by virality metrics, outputs calculated to please the feed.

Originality is inefficient. Referencing, on the other hand, is rewarded.

Users do not create trends. They inherit them, repackage them and perform them under the illusion of authorship. The ‘For You’ page becomes a hall of mirrors, reiterations of the same aesthetic language reflected endlessly back at the user, who begins to dress not for the world but for the algorithmic eye.

The result is what could be called viral identity syndrome: the slow breakdown of subjectivity in favor of performative aesthetic. Not identity, but simulation.

To be seen, one must first be simplified.

FAILURE OF NUANCE

Ambiguity does not translate. Not online. Not anymore.

Contemporary fashion discourse, especially the age of the internet, demands immediate classification. Every outfit must be decoded, tagged and linked in TikTok Shop. An ensemble is not interpreted on its own terms but through the lens of trend taxonomies: Is it coquette or downtown girl? Balletcore or gorpcore? The question is never what are you wearing, but who are you being?

This insistence on categorization reduces style to its most legible attributes. The subtleness of influence, experimentation and contradiction are filtered out. What remains is an aesthetic shorthand optimized for consumption.

The more one plays into the trend, the more one dissolves into it.

To borrow from multiple aesthetics (to blend, to contradict, to remain undefined) is treated as confusion rather than complexity. You are either cohesive or incoherent. The space for contradiction, for mixed signals, for undefinable taste has been algorithmically narrowed.

Not everything needs a label. But the current system behaves as if nothing can exist without one.

PERSON -> CLUSTER

Continuity is no longer the goal. Style, once an evolving narrative shaped over time, has fragmented into a series of disconnected performances. Each post is a new aesthetic pitch. Each look is a bid for freshness in the feed, not coherence.

What emerges is not a cohesive self, but a cluster of referents. A moodboard in motion. Individuals are no longer seen as whole, but as an assembling of aesthetic cues, fragments drawn from subcultures, brands, decades and trends, often with no connective tissue beyond what the feed will tolerate.

This fragmentation is not read as diverse. It is read as inconsistency. And inconsistency signals unreliability, something both the algorithm and the observer instinctively penalize. In this logic, style becomes a cycle of rebranding: you must evolve, but never too much. Deviate, but stay within range. Surprise, but not enough to confuse. Whatever you do: do not alienate. 

The result is an identity in constant aesthetic debt: forever borrowing from other systems, never forming one of its own.

You are not a person. You are an accumulation of references trying to be perceived as one.

FUCK YES TO AMBIGUITY

This essay is not to say you need to reject aesthetics. Only the assumption that they must define you.

Style, at its best, resists simplification. It contradicts itself. It evolves unevenly. It carries tension. To reclaim ambiguity is not to abandon reference but to deny resolution. To become less readable. Less optimizable. Predictable. 

In a system built on categorization, the refusal to cohere is an act of subtle resistance. The algorithm cannot reward what it cannot name.

The challenge now is not to define a new trend, but to exist outside of their logic, to treat style not as identity performance, but as an ongoing question.

Let it be inconsistent. Let it be unreadable. Let it make sense only to you.

Style is not what you can name. It’s what you can’t.