#work progress monitoring system

[cyberswift-story]

Revolutionizing Project Management with the Project Monitoring Portal

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https://www.cyberswift.com/in/products/csr-management-software

[bortalis]

My concepts for the development progress of an Iterators Puppet

-my ideas below

-Feasibility Study  

[1]: First autonomous control module, any instruction to be given must be done manually through physical means (the keys), outputs were shown through the screen. A very primitive system, however, did its job proving the greater machine concept was achievable. While it does look like a lens above the monitor, this was a simple status gauge for benchmarking.

-Prototyping and Development  

[2]: Now with the capability to wirelessly and audibly communicate to receive instructions and inputs. The system was no longer directly integrated into the facility, and resided on the first instance of an iterator's arm. This was considered a feat due to the complications with isolating the control module from the rest of the iterators components, while keeping processing power. A permanent connection/umbilical was needed to sustain life and function though. 

To “talk” back, they were crafted with multidimensional projectors, the mobile arm allowing the angles and variance for this projection. Only later into development were advanced speakers installed for optimized understanding, however the extra computing power required to synthesize proper speech was found to strain the contained module, so this function had rare use in the end.

[3]: At this point there was a change in perspective in the project. What once were machines to simply compute and simulate, were now planned to be the home, caregiver, and providers. The further the project came to fruition the more religious importance was placed upon these “random gods”. From this stance not only did the puppets have to manage and control their facilities, they had to communicate with the people and priests. To represent benevolent beings who will bring their end and salvation. In this process iterators began to take a more humanoid shape, to better reflect their parents. Development was focused on compacting the puppet closer to the size of an ancient for this purpose. This stage was the first to incorporate a cloak/clothing into their design considerations, to further akin themselves in looks. The cloak would hide the iterators' engineered bodies and give a body to their silhouette. 

[4]: As bioengineering and mechanics were rapidly progressing due to the void fluid revolution, this allowed plenty of margin for developing the outer design of the iterator puppets. This prototype was the first to incorporate limbs for the purpose of body language. This was another step in the drive to give a body to their random gods.

-Final Iterations

[5]: First generation iterators had the final redesign of puppet bodies. Far different from their first designs, they are fully humanoid. Their bodies are shaped to be organic and as full of life as they could at the time. Their center of sapience has fully settled within their body, as can be seen as their unconscious use of limbs without the direct intention for communication. This can also see how they manage their work, where many of the functions (which can be done with just an internal request) are operated through physical gestures of their limbs. Their puppet chambers also allow for full comprehensive projection, where many of their working monitors are displayed. It is seen how iterators prefer to utilize their traversal arm to transfer between the current working projection window.

These designs were hardy and nearly self-sufficient, only requiring minimal power from their umbilical to charge. (However was still limited in the terms of internal power production, for this first generation extensive batteries sufficed)

[6]: Later generation not only incorporated advanced bioengineering internally, but externally. While still a hardened shell, their body plates have been incorporated into the organics of the puppet, maintaining the protective requirements while barely leaving a trace of hinges or plates. This “soft” skin had drawbacks, such as reduced durability to the first generations, this was offset by the greatly enhanced repair speeds and capability this type of skin allowed.

Internal power generation was implemented into these late generation models. If the case arose, the Puppet could be disconnected from their umbilical and still be conscious from an undefined period of time. (However this would limit the operating capacity of the puppet when running self sufficiently) This greatly eased maintenance works, as the Puppet could still run the greater facility wirelessly while work was done on the chamber, arm or whatever as needed.

[drippingghoneyy]

Making Some Progress                                  -Viktor x Reader x Jayce

Summary: As Viktor's assistant, Viktor, Jayce and you have been working in a lab for many nights, pushing the boundaries of science and magic. The air thickens and the tension grows.

Genre/ Pairing: m/m/f, Jayvik x reader, dom!Viktor x sub! fem!Reader x switch!Jayce,

WARNINGS: mdni! nsfw, smut, pwp, poly sex, tension, teasing, dom!Viktor, sub! fem!Reader, switch! Jayce, lab sex, couch sex, threesome, handjob, voyeurism, praise kink, cuckolding, edging, dom/sub dynamics, piv, oral sex (m and f receiving), missionary, vag fingering, big dick Viktor, pet names, begging, friends-to-lovers, voice kink, obedience kink, stretching, nipple play, sharing, degradation, "Sir", overstimulation.. (lmk if I missed any!)

Word Count: 6.3k

Notes: This is my first writing…ever… So please give me any feedback! where could I do better? I thought there wasn't enough Jayvik smut, so I made my own…

If you find any spelling errors, no you didn't. If you don't like nsfw content, please don't read it!

You, as Viktor's devoted assistant, had been with them since the early days. The three of you had spent countless hours in this very lab, pushing the boundaries of science and magic.

The three of you have been set to work for many nights, the air crackling with anticipation. You could feel the tension building as you worked alongside Jayce, your fingers dancing over the delicate components, weaving the new configuration into the existing framework. All the while, Viktor hovered nearby, offering guidance and encouragement.

The hours ticked by, the lab lights flickering as the night grew old. The air grew thick with the scent of burnt metal and the faint ozone smell that accompanied powerful magical surges. You were acutely aware of Jayce's proximity, his arm occasionally brushing against yours as you both leaned in to examine the minutiae of your work. Each touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him, his eyes focused and intense.

You look over, studying Viktor as he works, his sharp features cast in shadow and light by the flickering screens. His hair, usually a wild mess of unruly curls, was now slightly slicked back with sweat. His eyes were a piercing amber, intense with concentration as he monitored the system's response. The lines on his face, a testament to countless nights of tireless research, had deepened, making him look both older and somehow more handsome.

The quiet stretched, punctuated only by the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall. You couldn't help but feel a pang of concern. You knew how much pressure he put on himself to ensure their work was perfect.

“Viktor, are you quite alright?" You couldn't help but ask as you noticed his furrowed brow and the intense concentration that had taken over his features. The blueprints scattered on the table between you whispered of secrets and innovations that could revolutionize the world of Hextech. The warm glow of the pendant lights danced off the metal surfaces, casting a serene ambiance over the cluttered lab.

Viktor's head snapped up, his eyes focusing on you after a brief moment. "Ah, yes, Y/N," he replied, his voice a touch deeper than usual, gruff with exhaustion, as he tapped the tip of his metal cane against the floor. "Just ensuring that the calibration of this device is flawless."

The cane was an extension of him, a testament to his ingenuity, a tool that defied the limitations of his damaged leg. "Jayce, would you be so kind as to fetch me the calibration matrix?"

Jayce nodded with a smirk, his eyes glancing from the blueprints to you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I've seen that look before," he said, his voice low. "Viktor's mind is racing."

You couldn't help the flush that crept up your neck. You'd caught the way Jayce had emphasized 'racing', his eyes holding yours for a beat too long. Was he referring to the thrill of discovery or something more?

The air grew thicker with each passing second, the unspoken tension between you and Viktor palpable. His gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity behind his eyes. Only for a second, and he glanced away.

No.

That was nothing more than acknowledgment.

He acknowledged me.

"Y/N," he began, his voice a gentle command that sent shivers down your spine, "I've noticed that you've been particularly attentive to my work lately. Is there something on your mind?"

He had been stressed, you knew. The deadlines for the Hextech project were approaching, and the weight of the world's expectations seemed to rest heavily on his shoulders. The lab was his sanctuary, but even here, the whispers of failure lurked in the shadows.

You took a deep breath. "I…I just want to help, sir," you replied. "You and Jayce are doing something incredible here, and I want to be a part of it."

Viktor smiles, glancing at the work displayed in front of you. "You are an invaluable asset, Y/N," he says, his voice soft and smooth as this praise falls. But there is more to our work than meets the eye." He pauses, his gaze falling back to you. He smiles once again before turning.

Jayce returned with the matrix, tossing it casually to Viktor. "Here you go, old man," he teased, the nickname rolling off his tongue with ease. The tension in the room lightened slightly, but the underlying current remained. Viktor caught the matrix with ease, his grip tightening around it.

"Thank you, Jayce," he said, his tone clipped. He turned to you, his gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks. "Y/N, would you be so kind as to assist me with these final adjustments?"

His request was not a question, but a gentle command. You nodded, stepping closer to him.

Viktor acknowledges your attentiveness and stresses the depth of their work. Despite Jayce's playful interruption, the atmosphere remains charged. You express your desire to help and assist Viktor with his task, moving closer to him at his request.

Together, you studied the complex matrix, your eyes darting over the numbers and symbols that danced before you. His scent, a blend of oil and metal, filled your nostrils as you leaned in closer, trying to make sense of the intricate calculations. Viktor's finger hovered over the paper, tracing a line of data that didn't quite add up. "Here," he said, his voice low and gruff with concentration. "This equation is incorrect."

Jayce sauntered over, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "How did you catch that?" he asked, leaning over your shoulder.

Viktor's expression was one of mild annoyance at the interruption, but he replied evenly, "It's elementary, Jayce. The discrepancy in the power coefficients is glaringly obvious."

Jayce leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "I guess I'll leave the 'elementary' stuff to the professor," he quipped his tone teasing but his eyes gleaming with genuine respect for Viktor's intellect.

Viktor's gaze didn't waver from the matrix. "Your contributions are appreciated, Jayce, but my methods are my own," he replied, his voice firm. "Now, if you would be so kind as to rerun the simulation without the error, we might actually make some progress."

Jayce's smirk grew wider. "Alright, Viktor. Let's hope you're right," he said, sauntering back to his workstation. The room grew quiet again, filled only with the sound of the machines whirring and the occasional clank of metal on metal.

“But…what does it mean for us?" you said, abruptly, “If the equation runs correctly?”

Viktor's eyes snapped to yours, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to breathe. "It means," he began, his voice measured and deliberate, "that we've reached a new level of understanding." His hand hovered over the beginnings of the Hexcore as if he could feel the power surging within it, and then he looked at Jayce, a question in his eyes.

Jayce nodded, his smile widening slightly. "It means," he said, his voice low from across the room, "that the three of us have created something incredible together."

Viktor leaned closer to you and pointed at the matrix. "As I said, the mistake is here," he murmured, his finger landing precisely on the errant symbol. His proximity was intoxicating, and his confidence in his own abilities even more so. You nodded, trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind kept wandering.

"Tell me, what is wrong with this calculation? " His accent was heavy, and his speech was softer due to his proximity. Your heart raced as you swallowed hard. "It seems like there's a misplaced coefficient," you managed to reply, your voice a mere whisper. "It's affecting the output power of the device."

He nodded, his gaze flickering over to Jayce before returning to you. "Very good, Y/N," he said, his voice a warm caress. His hand slid gently down your side, his fingertips barely grazing your skin. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. He stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Jayce," he called out, his voice now a command. "I must admit, Y/N has proven to be quite the asset. Her insights and diligence have not gone unnoticed."

Jayce paused in his work, looking over with a grin that was both proud and mischievous. "Yeah," he said, his eyes sparkling, "she's a natural. Who knew she had such a knack for this stuff?".

Viktor's smile grew, a hint of pride in his voice. "Indeed," he said, his eyes lingering on you. "I believe she deserves some… recognition for her efforts."

Your heart thundered in your chest as the implication of his words sank in. This wasn't just professional praise; it almost seemed like something more. You watched as Jayce's grin grew into a knowing smile, his eyes flicking between you and Viktor, and back down again. Collecting his work.

Viktor's hand reached out again, his metal-tipped fingers brushing against your bare arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. "You have a keen eye for detail, Y/N," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "It's been invaluable in our work."

His eyes searched yours, and you felt the intensity of his gaze. The praise was a warm balm to your soul, a gentle reminder that you belonged here, in this lab, with these two brilliant minds.

"Thank you, Sir," you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady as you felt the blush spread across your cheeks. His smile grew wider, there seemed to be a hint of something in his gaze.

It's soft, dark.

Jayce, ever the observant one, took a step closer. "You know, Viktor," he said, his voice casual but the glint in his eyes anything but, "I think Y/N is entitled to a bit more praise than that, " He winked at you, and you felt the heat in your cheeks rise even higher.

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to formulate a coherent response, but all that came out was a nervous giggle. "I…I just want to do a good job," you stuttered, trying to shrug off the sudden attention. "It's nothing special."

Viktor's gaze sharpened his grip on the calibration matrix tightening. "Is that all you wish for, Y/N?" he asked his accent now giving his voice a deep, velvety purr. "To simply…do your job?"

You looked up at him, the amber of his eyes piercing through the haze of your hectic mind. "N-no," you managed to reply, your voice trembling. "But I don't want to distract you from your work."

He stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against yours. "You are not a distraction," he said, his voice firm. "You are an essential component of our work. Without you, we would not be where we are." His hand reached out, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

Frozen.

He gives you a moment to pull away.

Thoughts going a million miles a minute.

Softly leaning into his touch, you felt a shiver run down your spine. His eyes searched yours, looking for confirmation, for consent. You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. Viktor's expression softened, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"If this is something you wish to explore," he began, his voice low, His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of hesitation. You swallowed, your heart racing.

Jayce stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Only if you're comfortable, Y/N," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "And if you're up for it, we're more than willing to give you what you need."

You took a deep breath, your body trembling with anticipation. The air between the three of you was charged with an unspoken understanding. "I…I want to," you murmured, the words barely escaping your lips..

Viktor's smile grew, his eyes lighting up. He stepped closer, his cane clicking sharply against the floor. "Excellent," he said, leaning down, capturing your mouth in a kiss, both gentle and possessive.

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The metal of his cane dug into your side, but you didn't care. You were lost in the sensation of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the feel of his body against yours.

Jayce watched for a moment before moving in, his hands reaching up to cup your face, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw. "Viktor's right," he murmured against your ear. "You're not just a distraction, you're a muse." He kissed you, his lips a stark contrast to Viktor's, insistent and demanding. You moaned, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

As your kisses grew more passionate, you felt a thrill at the thought of being watched by the two of them, of being the center of their attention. Viktor stepped back, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you with Jayce. He nodded, a silent command, and Jayce's hands began to wander, slipping beneath your shirt to caress your breasts.

"Jayce," you whispered, breaking the kiss. "I…I want to watch you too."

Jayce chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "As you wish," he murmured, his hands moving to the fastenings of his clothes.

He stripped away his shirt, revealing the defined muscles of his chest. His eyes never left yours as he unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. You watched, transfixed, as he took his cock in hand, stroking it slowly.

Viktor's gaze was intense as he watched Jayce, his desire clear. He reached out, his metal-tipped fingers tracing a line down Jayce's chest before wrapping around his erection. Jayce gasped, his eyes fluttering shut as Viktor began to stroke him in time with the rhythm of his movements.

"Now, my dear Y/N," Viktor said, his voice deep, he kissed Jayce, dominating the kiss with authority. "Let us see what awaits you, love."

He nods to Jayce, allowing him to pleasure himself freely before turning to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Strip, please" he ordered, his voice a low, velvety command that sent a shiver down your spine.

You complied, your trembling fingers undoing the buttons of your shirt, your eyes never leaving his. You felt Jayce's gaze on you, his eyes dark with desire as you revealed your body to them.

You stepped out of your shoes, your heart racing as you slid your pants down your legs, leaving you in only your underwear. Viktor's gaze was unyielding, his cane tapping impatiently against the floor as you stood before them, vulnerable and exposed.

"Everything, love" he murmured, his eyes raking over your form.

You took a deep breath, feeling the fabric of your bra and panties hugging your body. The set was black, the bra cups pushing your large breasts up. The panties were sheer, leaving little to the imagination, the lace tracing the contours of your ass cheeks. With trembling hands, you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra.

The act of undressing in front of them was a new experience, filled with a thrilling mix of excitement and vulnerability. You could feel their eyes on you, hungrily taking in every inch of your exposed skin, and it took all your resolve to keep your gaze from dropping to the floor. Instead, you focused on their faces: Jayce wore an expression of eager anticipation, while Viktor's demeanor was one of intense concentration.

Your breasts spilled free, the cool air of the lab causing your nipples to pebble under their heated gazes. The feeling of exposure was exhilarating, a thrill that sent your pulse racing and a blush creeping up your neck.

You couldn't find the words to express the emotions that bubbled within you, a potent mix of shyness and desire. You felt their eyes on you, Jayce's with a glint of mischief and Viktor's with a more intense, possessive hunger.

"Very good," Viktor murmured, stopping before you continued to your underwear, his eyes taking in every inch of your exposed flesh. He stepped closer, his cane tapping with each step. "Jayce, I believe it is time for us to show our appreciation."

Jayce grinned, his hand still moving leisurely up and down his length. "With pleasure," he said, stepping closer to you. His eyes never left your breasts as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to tease one of your nipples. You gasped, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

Viktor reached out, his hand sliding down your spine to cup your ass. His grip was firm, almost possessive. "You are exquisite, love," he said, his voice a soft growl. "So very beautiful." His thumb slid beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin. You squirmed, the anticipation of his touch making you wet.

As he felt the dampness, his eyes lit up with a predatory glint. "Ah," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You are quite eager for us." He turned to Jayce, his smile wide and triumphant. "It seems our little assistant is more than prepared for what we have planned."

Jayce chuckled, his eyes never leaving your exposed body. "Always eager to please, aren't you?" He leaned in, his mouth closing over your other nipple as he pinched the first, rolling it gently between his thumb and forefinger. The dual sensation was almost too much, your knees threatening to buckle.

Viktor's hand slipped into your panties, his fingers sliding through your folds to find your clit. He began to rub it with slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb pressing down firmly as he watched the pleasure build in your eyes. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So beautiful."

You moaned, your body responding to their touch, their dominance. Jayce's mouth left your breast, kissing a trail down to your navel, his tongue swirling around it before dipping lower, teasing the fabric of your panties.

With surprising gentleness, Jayce hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, his eyes holding yours. His touch was feather-light, but the promise of what was to come was anything but. He peeled them down slowly, inch by inch, before allowing you to step out of the wet pool of fabric.

Viktor's hand tightened around your waist, his voice a soft command in your ear. "Let's move this elsewhere, sweets," he said, his words a gentle rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He led you to the couch in the corner of the lab, the same couch where you had spent countless hours discussing theories and crunching numbers. But now, it felt different. It was a stage set for a different kind of exploration.

As you sat down, the plush fabric of the couch enveloped you. Viktor positioned himself in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours. "It is not proper to keep a lady standing," he murmured a hint of amusement in his voice. The couch was a stark contrast to the cold metal and gleaming technology that surrounded them, offering a semblance of intimacy in the harsh, brightly lit room.

Viktor knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours. He placed his cane aside, his hands sliding up your legs.

"Are you certain, Y/N?" he asked, his voice thick with need. You could see the desire in his eyes, the way his pupils had dilated. You nodded, your cheeks aflame.

"I am,"

You whispered, the heat of your words hanging in the air as you stared into Viktor's eyes. The intensity of his gaze made your knees wobble, but you held firm, the need to feel his touch again overwhelming any shred of doubt.

Viktor's smile grew, a predatory light sparkling in his eyes. "Good," he said, his voice a velvet caress. He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. "You will not regret this decision, my sweet."

He slid his fingers through your folds, his touch gentle but insistent. You gasped as he found your clit, his thumb circling it with a precision that spoke of his mastery. His fingers slid lower, slipping inside you with ease. He began to move them in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the sound of your wetness mingling with the low, guttural noises that escaped your throat.

He watched you with a focused intensity, his eyes hooded and dark with desire. Every stroke was calculated, every touch designed to push you closer to the edge. Each thrust of his fingers was punctuated with a twirl of his thumb against your clit, sending sparks of electricity through your body.

Jayce's mouth found your neck, his teeth nipping gently as he sucked and licked. You arched your back, the dual sensations pushing you closer to the edge.

"Please..," you moaned, your voice a plea.

Viktor's smile grew darker, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He knew you were close, but he wasn't quite ready to let you fall. "Beg for it," he said, his voice a low command that sent another shiver down your spine.

You nodded, your breaths coming in short gasps. "P-please, Sir," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I need… I need more."

Viktor's eyes lit up with fierce joy at your words, the power dynamic between you two now crystal clear. "More?" he questioned, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing harder against your swollen bud. "You wish to be pleasured more?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand. "I need… I need you to… please don't stop."

He chuckled a dark sound that sent a thrill through you. "As you wish," he murmured, "But you must be more specific, my dear. Tell me exactly what you want."

You looked up at him, your eyes glazed with lust. "Your mouth," you panted. "I want your mouth… there."

Viktor's smile grew wider, his teeth flashing white in the dim light of the lab. He leaned in, so close to where I needed him. I could almost cry… "You wish for me to taste you?"

You nodded frantically, your eyes closing. "Yes," you breathed. "Please, sir. Taste me."

With a groan, he obeyed, his mouth replacing his thumb. He licked and sucked at your clit, his tongue delving into your wetness with a hunger that left no doubt as to his enjoyment. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn't hold back the cries that spilled from your lips. Each stroke of his tongue sent a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, your body tightening around his fingers.

Jayce, ever the attentive lover, took advantage of your distraction, his mouth moving from your neck to capture one of your nipples, once again. He bit down gently, the slight pain mixing with the pleasure from Viktor's ministrations. Your moans grew louder, filling the room with the sweet symphony of your desire.

This was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The combination of their expert hands, their knowing touches and kisses, was overwhelming. You had always craved this kind of connection, this kind of intimacy, but had never allowed yourself to indulge. Now, with the two most brilliant men you knew worshiping your body, you felt like you were floating on a cloud of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Jayce's cock was hot and heavy in your hand, the veins pulsing with the beat of his heart. You leaned in, your breath hot against his skin. He watched you with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling with his ragged breaths. You licked the tip, tasting the salty precum, and he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily.

Viktor watched with a hunger that matched your own, his own hand still working your clit with a precision that was both thrilling and terrifying. "Take him in, love," he whispered, his voice a soft command. "Show him how much you crave his attention."

You took Jayce's cock in your mouth, feeling him grow even harder. You sucked gently, your tongue swirling around the head, tasting the saltiness of his precum. His eyes widened and his grip on your hair tightened, a silent plea for more.

You obeyed, taking him deeper, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat. He groaned the sound melding with the wet sounds of your mouth working him.

Viktor watched, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Very good, love," he murmured, his own hand still working your clit with a maddening rhythm. "So eager to serve."

Jayce's whimpers grew louder, his hips thrusting slightly as he lost control. "Fuck, Y/N," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "That's so good."

Viktor's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense, watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed your features. "Are you close, love?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate in your very soul.

You nodded, the tension in your body coiling tighter with every second. "Yes, please..," you gasped, your own pleasure building.

"Mm," Viktor murmured, his eyes darkening with desire. "Come for us, sweet girl." His words were a command, a promise, and a challenge all rolled into one.

Their combined efforts pushed you over the edge, and you shattered into a million pieces, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your orgasm a symphony of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

As the last tremors of your climax subsided, Viktor leaned back, his eyes filled with pride. "So beautiful," he murmured, his thumb still gently stroking your clit. "Such a Good Girl for us, love."

You panted, your cheeks flushed with the aftermath of your release.

Viktor sat back on his heels, watching you with a look of pure satisfaction. "You are exquisite, my dear," he murmured, his thumb still ghosting over your sensitive flesh. "Your responsiveness is… enchanting."

Jayce had moved to the edge of the couch, his hand moving faster now, his eyes glued to the sight of your body. "Vik," he gasped out, his voice tight with need. "I'm not gonna last much longer."

Viktor chuckled, a low, rich sound that seemed to resonate through the room. He leaned back, watching as Jayce's hand moved faster and faster, his eyes glazed with lust. "Always so eager, Jayce," he murmured, his own fingers sliding down to trace the crevice of your ass, teasing you gently. "But do not come yet."

Jayce groaned, his eyes flickering between you and Viktor. He knew he was close, but the desire to please was stronger. He slowed his pace, his hand tightening around his shaft as he fought for control. You watched him, your own desire mirroring his, the need to give him the same pleasure he had given you.

Viktor stood, his movements graceful despite the cane. He leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek. "Would you like to finish him, love?" he whispered, his voice a seductive invitation.

You nodded, eager to show your submission to both men. Jayce's eyes lit up with excitement, his grip on his cock faltering. Viktor's hand slipped away from your pussy, giving you room to move. You leaned over, taking Jayce in your mouth once again. You felt him quiver at the first touch of your tongue, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Fuck," he gasped, his voice strained. "Y/N, you're so…so good."

You took him deep, swirling your tongue around the head, feeling his cock pulse with every beat of his heart. Viktor's hand slid to the base of Jayce's shaft, his long fingers wrapping around him as he began to stroke in time with your movements. The room was filled with the sounds of wet sucking and skin on skin, the scent of arousal thick in the air.

Viktor's other hand reached out, tangling in your hair, guiding your movements. You could feel his dominance growing, his need to control the situation becoming more pronounced. You moaned around Jayce's cock, the sound vibrating through his shaft, making him groan even louder.

"Please, Sir," he breathed, his voice strained. "Can I… can I come?"

Viktor's eyes flicked to Jayce, his expression unreadable. With a regal nod, he said, "You may."

Jayce's breaths grew ragged, his hips bucking slightly as he approached the brink. "I'm…I'm gonna…"

Viktor's grip on your hair tightened. "Swallow," he ordered, his voice a dark, command.

Jayce's eyes rolled back in his head, his body tensing as he reached climax. You took his hot seed into your mouth, swallowing it eagerly. He groaned, his grip on your hair loosening as he slumped back against the couch, his chest heaving.

Viktor's gaze never left yours, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched the scene unfold. He leaned back, his gaze raking over your naked form with a possessive hunger.

"Your dedication to our work, and to us," he began, his voice a low purr that seemed to resonate through the very air, "has been nothing short of extraordinary." His hand reached out, stroking the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. "But now, it is my turn."

You nodded, your voice a mere whisper of agreement, the anticipation building within you like a coiled spring.

Viktor leaned back, his gaze never leaving yours. "Stay," he said, the command in his voice unmistakable. Jayce nodded, his eyes still glued to the two of you, his own need palpable.

Viktor turned his attention back to you softly smiling, his hand sliding down your body, tracing the curves of your waist and the dip of your hips before settling on your ass. His eyes roamed over you with the intensity of a scientist studying a rare specimen. "Your beauty is truly mesmerizing," he murmured, his voice a warm caress in the cool lab air.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear, "Are you absolutely certain this is what you wish for?" His question was a final checkpoint, a gentle reminder of the control you held in this moment of shared vulnerability. You nodded, your voice a breathless whisper of agreement.

"I want this, sir," you murmured, the words leaving your lips with a sense of urgency that seemed to echo in the quiet lab. Your heart was racing, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Viktor's eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he nodded, a look of determination crossing his features. "Very well, love," he said, his voice a gentle rumble.

Jayce watched with rapt attention, his own desire palpable. He leaned back, his hand still idly playing with himself, his eyes never leaving the two of you.

Viktor's hand slid down, his fingertips brushing against the slickness of your folds. He circled your entrance, teasing, before sliding two fingers inside you. You gasped, your body responding immediately to his touch.

You felt your walls tightening around him, your body begging for more. "Please," you gasped, your voice a needy plea. "I need… I need you to fuck me."

Viktor's eyes darkened at your words, his desire for you now impossible to hide. He withdrew his fingers, and for a moment, you felt a pang of loss. But it was quickly replaced by excitement as he stood, his own need now clear. He unbuckled his trousers, his cock springing free, long and hard. His cock that truly captured your attention. It was thick and long, a testament to his size despite his lean frame. The sight of him made your stomach clench with want.

"As you wish, my love," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "But I must ensure you are adequately prepared for me." He stepped closer, his hand stroking himself slowly, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Your body is so tight," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "But fear not, I will prepare you." He reached for a jar of lubricant, his movements deliberate and precise. He smeared it on his fingers before sliding them back inside you, stretching and preparing you for what was to come. The sensation was both thrilling and a little intimidating, but you knew you could trust him.

With a wicked smile, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I am quite… substantial," he said, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "But I will take my time. I want to feel every inch of you, to hear every moan and gasp as I claim you."

Jayce's eyes grew darker, his own need mirroring the desire in your eyes. He watched as Viktor slid three fingers into you, his thumb pressing against your clit. The sound of your moan filled the room, mingling with the steady throb of the arcane machinery. Viktor's fingers moved in and out of you, his thumb working in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had you writhing on the couch.

"Look at me," he ordered his voice a gentle command that sent a fresh wave of heat through your body. You obeyed, meeting his gaze as he continued to prepare you for his possession. His eyes never left yours as he withdrew his fingers, the lubricant glistening on them. He reached down, guiding his cock to your entrance, the head of his shaft nudging at your slick folds. You held your breath, the anticipation unbearable.

With a single, powerful thrust, he claimed you, his cock filling you to the hilt. You gasped, your eyes widening at the sudden, delicious fullness. The pain was a sweet agony that made your toes curl.

Your moans filled the lab, mingling with the steady thrum of the machinery. Viktor's eyes never left yours, watching as your pupils dilated with pleasure. "So tight, my love," he murmured, his voice a deep growl of satisfaction.

He began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm that had you clutching at the couch cushions. Each stroke sent a new wave of pleasure through your body, your muscles clenching around him, urging him deeper. The room spun around you, the only anchor the feel of his cock stretching you, filling you completely.

Jayce watched with a raptor's intensity, his hand moving faster as he stroked himself. "Vik," he breathed, his eyes locked on the two of you. "Let me see more."

Viktor's smile grew, his strokes becoming more deliberate. He reached down, his thumb brushing over your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You arched up, your nails digging into the couch, your moans growing louder.

"Sir, please," you begged, the words slipping from your lips like a mantra.

Viktor chuckled, the sound dark and thrilling. "Your desire is intoxicating," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, his cock still buried deep within you and kissed you. It was a gentle, claiming kiss, one that seemed to reach down into the very core of your being.

The room around you faded away until there were only the two of you, locked in this dance of power and passion. You felt every inch of Viktor, his dominance enveloping you as surely as his cock filled you. His strokes grew faster, more demanding, and you could feel your orgasm building again, a sensation that seemed to coil tight in your belly.

Jayce's hand tightened in your hair, his other hand stroking his own cock as he watched. "So fucking hot," he murmured, the words barely audible over your moans. "Look at her, Vik. Look at how much she wants it."

Viktor's strokes grew more powerful, his hips slamming into you with an urgency that was both thrilling and overwhelming. You felt yourself slipping, losing yourself in the sensation, but Jayce was there, his hand on your cheek, turning your face to his. He kissed you, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you as you moaned around the sound of your own pleasure.

"I've got you," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm in the storm of sensation. "Just let go."

And you did. You let go, your body shattering around Viktor's cock, the sound of your climax echoing through the room. Viktor's eyes widened, his own release following swiftly behind, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he emptied himself.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms began to subside, the three of you lay tangled together on the couch, breathing heavily. Jayce's arms were wrapped around you both, holding you close as you both came down from the intense high of your shared pleasure. The room was still, save for the steady hum of the arcane machinery and the occasional clank of a loose gear.

Viktor was the first to break the silence, his voice a low rumble. "Your performance was… most satisfactory," he said, his hand stroking your back in a gentle, almost soothing manner. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or discomfort.

You couldn't help but smile at his formal choice of words, feeling a warm glow spread through you. "Thank you, Sir," you murmured, the endearment feeling natural on your tongue. You turned your head to look at Jayce, who was smiling down at you with an affectionate glint in his eyes.

Jayce leaned in to kiss you softly, his hand stroking your cheek. "You two are amazing together," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "I can't wait to see what we can all do together."

Viktor pulled out of you gently, his eyes never leaving yours. He helped you sit up, wrapping you in a warm embrace. "Indeed," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Our bond has grown stronger tonight."

The three of you dressed slowly, the mood in the lab now one of contentment and satisfaction. You couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging, a feeling that you had found your place among these two brilliant minds.

As you put your clothes back on, you noticed the way they both watched you, their eyes filled with something more than just lust. It was a look of possession, of claiming, but also of care and affection.

[orellazalonia]

Unexpected Outlook

Summary: The Avengers launch a mission to raid a known base of the organization you now work with and discuss over what they found.

Word Count: 1.7k+

A/N: A little shorter since it’s Father’s Day, but I also wanted to add more weight to the previous chapter and progress the story.

Main Masterlist | The One You Don’t See Masterlist

Preparations moved fast. Too fast, maybe.

Steve didn’t like that they were running with incomplete information, but the longer they waited, the deeper this organization could dig itself into global systems. And the more time you had to assist them, whether willingly or not.

Still, it didn’t sit right. None of it did.

Bruce pulled the files. Natasha studied known locations. Sam monitored chatter. Bucky cleaned his weapons with a look in his eyes like he wanted answers he didn’t have the right to ask.

Yet no one brought up your name again. At least, not directly. But it hovered beneath everything.

The way Bucky checked each plan twice. The way Natasha’s jaw twitched when she reviewed footage. Even the way Steve hesitated before calling it an official mission.

The woman Bucky liked didn’t voice objections anymore. She simply kept a kind, quiet distance, like someone watching friends argue over a lost cause.

And within a week, the op was set.

Steve gave the greenlight with his jaw tight and eyes harder than usual. The mission was clear: infiltrate a suspected communications hub. A nondescript, rural compound masked as a grain storage facility. Satellite data showed encrypted signals routing through it over the last month, signals that matched ones the Avengers used internally.

Which meant either someone was watching. Or someone had been taught how.

They went in with a small team. Just Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Bucky. No need for Hulk or Thor; this wasn’t a battering ram job. It was a retrieval and disrupt operation. Quiet and clean.

Or so they thought.

The quinjet landed half a mile out, under cover of dense fog rolling over the hills. The forest beyond the compound was eerily still like it had been holding its breath since before dawn.

“They want us to find this,” Natasha muttered, brushing a branch aside as they crept through the trees.

Steve didn’t argue. His shield was strapped to his arm, but he hadn’t raised it once.

They reached the clearing. The compound was just as expected. Gray concrete, flat roof, minimal security fencing, and a gravel path leading to two entrances. No guards. No movement. Even the air felt… hollow.

Sam scanned the building with a handheld sensor. “No heat signatures. Not even a rat.”

“Too clean,” Bucky said, voice low.

They breached the back door.

Inside, it was dark but not ruined. Every surface was wiped. Consoles powered down. Not destroyed, removed. Carefully like a move-out rather than an attack. Upon investigating further, files had been cleared, drawers emptied, and chairs pushed in with bland desks.

Whoever had been here knew exactly when to leave.

Steve turned in a slow circle, taking it in.

“This was active,” He said. “Days ago.”

“Hours, maybe,” Natasha said, crouching beside a desk. She tapped the edge, there was a faint spot where something electronic had been sitting. Someone had worked here… and then vanished.

Sam stepped into the central control room. There was only one thing left behind: a monitor left switched on, flickering a soft blue light in the dimness.

A single message scrolled across the screen.

Too late, Captain.

That was it. There wasn’t any long monologues. No other mocking comments. Not even a signature or sign-off present. Just a cold fact. Steve stared at it like he could will it to change. Bucky stood a step behind him, arms folded, expression unreadable.

“I don’t like this,” Sam muttered.

Natasha approached a wall panel and pried it open effortlessly. Inside, wires had been sliced. Intentionally. However, there were no explosives. No traps could be seen anywhere either. It was all just… closure.

“They stripped this place surgically,” She said. “No fingerprints, no traces. It’s like they wanted us to know they were here… but not who they are.”

Steve closed the monitor with a clenched jaw. “This wasn’t a base. It was a decoy.”

“No,” Bucky said suddenly. His voice was soft but steady. “It was a base. It just outlived its usefulness.”

They all turned toward him. He looked at the empty room, the missing equipment, and the quiet hallways. Then, to the message. And for a moment, something shifted in his eyes. Guilt, maybe or something deeper.

“They planned for this,” He murmured. “Someone told them exactly how we’d come.”

No one responded, but no one needed to. Because they were all thinking it.

-

The debrief room was thick with a heavy silence, the kind that pressed down harder than shouting. Ghost-blue blueprints and photos of the abandoned compound still flickered on the monitors, reminders of how quickly their plan had unraveled. Notes about the missing equipment and the chilling message on the screen scrolled slowly, marking everything they should have anticipated.

Steve hadn’t sat once since they returned. He stood rigid at the head of the table, hands braced on his hips, and a deep furrow like it was etched there permanently. Sam had stopped pacing but his leg bounced nervously, jaw clenched tight. Natasha’s fingers tapped against her thigh in a rhythm so steady it barely seemed voluntary.

Only Bucky remained perfectly still, arms crossed, and eyes locked on the screen across the room. He said very little since they’d left the empty compound since that message haunted him.

Too late, Captain.

The words weren’t just text; they carried a weight, a deliberate coldness that dug into Bucky’s mind. Whoever had left it knew him. Not just the soldier, but his moves, his instincts. And worse, their enemy had used the knowledge you once held to outmaneuver them.

The memory played on loop in his mind. Not just the words but the feel of them. The calculation in them. Whoever was behind that terminal… knew him. Not just facts. His patterns.

And maybe worse than that, they’d used your knowledge to do it. They probably used you to do it.

The door hissed open.

She stepped in with her usual soft elegance, cradling a fresh cup of tea between her hands like she had no idea anything had gone wrong. Dressed casual, warm, and comfortable. Like she belonged. Like she didn’t feel the same tension that pulled everyone else taut. The one you used to be jealous of had sat out for the mission after all.

“Oh,” She said lightly. “You’re all back already.”

Her tone wasn’t mocking. If anything, it was gently surprised, as if she’d simply walked into a meeting that ended early. Steve didn’t answer right away. Neither did the others.

She blinked, smile sweet and expectant, like someone unaware they were intruding. “Was it a short mission?”

“We were too late,” Steve said flatly, straightening.

Her brows lifted, and she crossed to the table, setting the tea down. “Really? That’s unfortunate. I thought it was just one of those cleanup things. You all make those look so easy.”

Sam looked over, jaw tight. “They cleaned up, alright. Took every last trace of themselves. Left us a polite message, too.”

“They knew how we’d approach,” Natasha added with her arms crossed now. “Like they knew our pattern. Our flow. They stripped the place within hours of our arrival window.”

“Hmm.” She tapped a fingernail against the ceramic. “That’s strange. Maybe they had inside intel?”

“No,” Steve spoke, narrowing his eyes. “Not unless someone studied us long before they left.”

“Oh.” She blinked, tilting her head. “So… do you think your old administrator friend told them?”

Bucky stiffened.

Natasha’s voice was sharper now, eyes narrowing. “She’s not our anything.”

That seemed to amuse her. She let out a light laugh, the kind meant to dissolve tension, not that anyone was asking for it. “Well, you’re not wrong,” She smiled. “ She didn’t really fit in here anyways, did she?”

Bruce, who had been mostly quiet, looked up sharply. “She worked here for over two years.”

She didn’t seem phased. There was no malice on her face actually. Just soft confidence.

“I guess I didn’t think she’d be important,” She sighed simply. “Kind of kept to herself. I always assumed she’d move on.”

Sam stood, voice tight. “She did. Straight into the hands of the people trying to tear us apart.”

Her smile faltered just a touch. “I didn’t mean—look, I’m sure she was… sweet. I just don’t see how it helps to chase after someone who clearly didn’t want to be here. Don’t you think she made her choice?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t know that yet.”

“I mean, sure,” She said gently, “But if she’s really that dangerous, wouldn’t you have noticed before she left? You didn’t even realize she was gone until weeks later, right?”

Bucky shifted slightly. The burn in his chest deepened. Not from her words exactly, but from how true they rang.

They hadn’t noticed. They hadn’t looked.

The woman moved closer to Bucky, noticing his subtle distress as she rested her hand lightly on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I just worry about you,” She confessed softly, smiling up at him. “You’re all stretched so thin already. I’d hate to see you waste energy chasing ghosts.”

Her hand lingered. But Bucky’s jaw clenched, and for once, he didn’t lean into her touch.

“She’s not a ghost,” He muttered. “She’s a mirror. Of everything we missed.”

Her expression flickered for barely a moment. Then the sweet smile returned.

“Well, if you have to go after her,” She brushed her hand away, her expression turning more solemn. A hint of pity evident, “I hope you’re prepared for what you find. Sometimes people change… and not always in ways you can fix. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

She reached for her tea again, her fingers wrapping around the cup like it was an anchor.

“And if you do decide to keep going after her, well.” She gave a gentle little laugh, looking around with open, innocent eyes. “I hope it goes well. I really mean that. And if you need my help at all… just let me know. I’m always happy to support the team.”

The door hissed softly behind her as she walked out, quiet heels tapping against the floor in steady, graceful rhythm.

The rest of the team stood in silence for a few long seconds, each lost in their own storm of thoughts.

Steve broke it first.

“We move forward. We stop that organization before it spreads deeper.”

“And if she’s helping them willingly?” Sam asked, his voice low.

Steve hesitated.

So, Bucky answered instead.

“Then we stop her, too.”

Taglist: @herejustforbuckybarnes @iyskgd @torntaltos @julesandgems @maesmayhem @w-h0re @pookalicious-hq @parkerslivia @whisperingwillowxox @stell404 @wingstoyourdreams @seventeen-x @mahimagi @viktor-enjoyer @vicmc624 @msbyjackal @winchestert101 @greatenthusiasttidalwave

[copperbadge]

ADHD and (Communications) Productivity

Recently @goodnightmoonvale hit me up by email to ask about some of my processes for keeping myself from getting snowed under when it comes to digital communication. The main question was about finding ways to ensure that you stay in touch with people and, at work, give updates in a timely manner.

I sent back a long email about the systems I use, then asked if I could post up my response publicly as well, since a couple of other people both online and in brickspace have asked me similar questions. I've cleaned it up a little and included it below -- although I feel just slightly weird about posting it since admittedly outside of work I am still not fantastic about prompt responses to email.

Still, I feel like it's good to share this stuff -- I think people take away what they can from this kind of post, and it's nice when something works. So here's what I wrote, tidied up a bit for posting.

SHORT VERSION

When I have a backlog in email or asks or similar -- as I often do -- I set aside a time, between 15 minutes and an hour depending on how I'm feeling, to do "communication rotation". I open up every inbox I need to respond to in a separate tab, and crucially these are the ONLY tabs open -- I set up a new browser window if I have to.

So I have a browser open and I have tabs within the browser -- Gmail, Tumblr Askbox, AO3 Inbox, etcetera. If you have Discord you might open the DMs in Discord to see if you have ones to respond to there. If it helps, you can create a bookmark file of "inboxes" so you can open them all at once every time. Sometimes I have multiple browsers open so that I can have multiple Gmail inboxes (personal, fandom, work) open at once.

Then I cycle through them, answering messages in one inbox until I feel like I can't anymore, and I move on to the next one. I try to set a goal -- say, five messages from each platform, or one "difficult" message that I've been putting off per platform. Or trying to get every inbox down to under 20 messages that need response, or similar.

The goal is not to answer every single message, but to attack the mountain. If you find you're skipping one inbox because only the really hard-to-respond-to messages are left, close out the other inboxes and just focus on replying to ONE hard-to-respond-to message, then get up and walk away and give yourself a treat. Maybe come back and start again in ten minutes, maybe you're done for the day. The point is to reduce the backlog little by little while still retaining enough energy to respond to new things as they come in, so they don't add to the backlog.

There may be a better way for some people -- maybe some people would do better to pick one platform each time and just deep focus on that one, for example. I always say that people need to find what works for them, but the attitude in this case is what's important -- not "Gotta do it all now" but "Little bit now helps me later". 

NOW, for the long version that's more work focused! 

LONG VERSION

Responding to people and keeping them updated are two different things, and I think there's an implicit third thing, which is "making sure I make time to respond to messages". So in sequence what you need to figure out how to do is: 

1. Set up your workflow so that you are consistently reminded to read and respond to email.

2. Respond in a timely and appropriate manner to email. 

3. Set up your workflow so that you are reminded to provide update emails as you progress in various projects. 

So for 1, only you know what will trigger you to consistently read and answer email. For me, I just constantly have my work email open on one monitor (I have two) and whenever a new email comes in I see it. Sometimes I need to use both monitors for other things, and for that reason the only email notifications I get on my phone are work email notifications*. So if I'm working on something and my phone nearby dings, I know it's probably important, and I see what it is fairly quickly.

* Reader, if you have ADHD and have not tried turning off all but the most necessary phone notifications, I do recommend trying it. For some it might be difficult or even counterproductive, but for me, it helps enormously with brain fog and executive function. The only notifications I get on my phone are text messages, work emails, and alarms. Nothing from social media, nothing from retail or game or banking apps. Zippo.

Once I'm aware I have a new email, before I read it, I decide: do I want to read and reply to this now? If not, if I'm in the groove of something else, I leave the email unread, so that it's there nagging at me when I'm done with whatever I'm doing. If I'm in a good place to break, I open the email -- but only if I have concluded that I will respond to it immediately if response is needed. 

This is a difficult habit to form. It may not work for some people. The key is to figure out what will a) draw your attention to new email, b) allow you to decide whether to read it, and c) respond if you do read it. 

2 ("respond in a timely and appropriate manner") is actually the easiest of the three steps in my opinion because you don't always have to have all the answers at once. I sometimes fall into the pit of "I can't respond unless I have a full answer or a finished assignment" and have to pull myself back out. It helps that I have become master of the "acknowledgement email" -- basically if you open an email and you can't answer the questions in it immediately, or if you can't work on the assignment that moment, you fire off a quick email just to let them know you've received the message and are working on it.

For this, I have several stock phrases such as "Thanks for the email! Let me look into this a little further and I'll get back to you" or "Sure, I can get that done in [timeframe]." Importantly, if they have not given you a deadline, it's SUPER helpful to say, "I'll have this to you by [reasonable date in your opinion] -- if you need it sooner please let me know ASAP so I can prioritize it." (or "If you need it sooner let's discuss the scope of the project, since I have a lot on my plate.") 

You then need to make sure that you do the task in the allotted time, but that's a different ballgame -- we're focusing here on responding and updating.

People, truly, just want to know that you've seen their request and are working on it, and just sending that email goes a long way towards giving the impression that you are a prompt responder and strong communicator. Also if you have any questions ("before I proceed, can I ask") now is the time to ask them since that puts responsibility back on them to provide information before you go further and possibly waste your time.

3 ("Set up your workflow so that you are reminded to provide update emails") is where I struggle, because it's not just about remembering to Do The Thing, you have to also remember to update the person on the thing. The way I do this is to use my inbox not as a temporary repository for new emails but as a to-do list. Until a task is complete, the email regarding it does not leave my inbox (see next paragraph for exceptions). If it's important I might even mark it unread (despite having replied to it) so that it "bugs" me when I look at my inbox. 

If I have replied and can't go further until I get a response, I might file the email in a folder. I make a new folder for work every month, so for example any requests from February are in the 2025-02 folder, and for big projects with multiple emails I make a folder like "2025 Holiday Cards" or "2025 Database Audit". Since there's nothing I can do until the person hits me back, it doesn't need to stay in my "to do" inbox -- when they email back it'll get moved there anyway. However, if I have replied and need a response but can work on other aspects of the task, even if I'm not going to immediately, I leave it in my inbox. That way, whenever I'm concerned I've forgotten something, I can check my inbox and see all the stuff I need to either reply to or update people on.

I also use Google Tasks to run my life, and have it open in a sidebar next to my email, so any task I should be working on is generally noted there as well, but that goes back to the "make sure you do the tasks promptly" which again is a different issue. 

CASE STUDY

So, say someone asks me for a spreadsheet on Monday. I reply "Thanks, I'll have this for you by end of day Friday, let me know if you need it sooner." They don't respond so I assume Friday is fine for my purposes. I leave the request email in my inbox and start work on the task OR I put the task in my Google Tasks with "Due Friday EOD" on it. (Sometimes I do both.)

I work on the project all week and by Wednesday I've made reasonable progress but haven't heard back from the person who asked for it. Around the end of day Wednesday, I might open the thread again and send a quick email saying "Hey, I'm making good headway on this, still on track to have it to you EOD Friday." Or I might have a question, and shoot that off. For some people, you get a feel of whether or not they need that kind of update. I don't do this for, say, my super laid-back boss, but I do for the head of Data who definitely wants status updates. 

On Friday, I open that same email thread as the original request (for consistency) and send them the finished product. At that point I know I'm done with the task so I can shift the email into my 2025-02 archive for good. All the communication is in one place, and it's neatly filed away, so I no longer have to worry about it. 

CONCLUSION

The ultimate point is that you want to develop a system for your own personal use that reminds you to check email frequently, helps you respond immediately when you read an email, and reminds you to send updates as they're needed. Maybe that's alarms instead of Google Tasks, or a calendar app, or a handwritten to-do list in place of keeping stuff in your inbox. The point is to know what will cue you to do things you wouldn't do naturally, then implement those -- and change them if they stop working. What I wrote above is my system, but it's mostly demonstrating the framework I used to build it, which is what I hope other people will also find useful.

[kingofthewilderwest]

To everyone who asked, and to everyone who didn't:

Yes. I have somewhere between 1,000 and 2,000 of TwoSet's videos, all in HD quality. LINK BELOW

Earlier this year in 2024, I downloaded every single TwoSet Violin public video from their YouTube and scoured other sites like Bilibili and Facebook to get videos they'd deleted from at least one platform. My goal was to make some fandom compilation videos that'd require going through every video.

I do not have the last few months of 2024 (which I'm kicking myself for... I literally almost did a download update on SUNDAY). But I have almost everything.

2 mil, 3 mil, 4 mil, Fantasia, Hilary Hahn or Ray Chen collabs, Producer Shaun, professional versus beginner, violin charades, that cheeky skit you shared on Facebook in 2016

Their world tour VODs, including my own personal captures of their latest VOD stream

Some of the content from their Facebook kickstarter livestreams that I found from other fans.

I've been collecting all their TikTok videos currently, too. I've downloaded a spattering of their Instagram stories from 2024 and might have a small collection of recent Instagram videos, too.

I do not have everything, but I have a fuckton and I want to share it with as many people as possible, and collaborate with as many people as possible to fill in the missing pieces.

Please contact me if you have your own archives or know people working on other archives. I'm talking with a few people about starting a Google Drive project, but I don't know the big names in the TSV fandom and thus could be missing out on people who've done a lot of other work

It's more likely that this will clear over in the coming days / weeks / month / whatever and we'll have their official channel again. I'm still going to keep believing that. But it doesn't erase the importance of making sure the media we love doesn't become lost media. I have respect for content creators to monitor what does and doesn't stay on their platform, but for the sake of preservation of media, for the sake of helping a community, I want to make sure this archive is in place and widely accessible to TwoSetters.

My current cloud server is VERY MUCH a work in progress. I am in the middle of an extremely busy week and trying to do this around an office job and a half. It will take me time to upload everything, and even more time to organize everything. But the cloud server link is active, and I will keep people updated about the progress of my archiving through a PDF text file (not yet uploaded) in said cloud. If I collaborate with people for Google Drive systems, if I do other backups, I will let people know there and on my other social media accounts.

I am new and naive to Terabox. I started with Terabox because it's free to upload up to a terabyte of content. I think it should be free to download everything in full quality, but I don't know. People should inform me how it works. It's currently -- I'm sorry -- VERY poorly organized and requires Scrolling (TM), but short of that issue (which will be fixed with organization), I hope it gets people what they need.

Also: Reddit has suspended me for a few days lol (really I'm getting a slap on the wrist for how blatantly I was marching about), so if people want to start spreading this link to others in private chats elsewhere with known TwoSetters, the more the merrier! The purpose of this is to be a resource, either short-term or long-term.

[tmwcs]

Warnings: Not quite yet but we’re getting there.

A/N: with midterms starting, I wanted to get this out before I go away for four days. Initially, I wanted to take my time on part three to eloquently articulate the experimental process (not trying to spoil) buuuuuut considering I have to study and continue with midterms on Monday I figured I would condense everything. I apologize for the lack of grammar and punctuation, this isn’t proofread (none of my works are) because I normally draft everything whenever I can amidst my busy schedule. But hopefully you guys don’t mind. 😏 enjoy!

Taglist; @skzenhatxt-stan @lhseungg @iamliacamila @immelissaaa @kkamismom12 @lavxndxrsworld @planetmarlowe @koyikuraa

“It’s been nearly fifty-two hours doc, what’s the hold up?”

The lead scientist hissed in annoyance. “Will you just wait! Science is a work in progress—it takes time! Especially if you’re creating the non-existent.”

The group operates the computer system. Wired to a heart monitor, they’re hopes remain high as the incubator slowly opens. A single beat pops up on the monitor. “Doctor”

“I’ve done it! I’ve made a body for AI!” The audience watch closely behind Dr. Mart and his team as they watch the delicate musculoskeletal android stumble out of the casing. Connected with thousands of wires, the faceless form that closely resembled the human body jumbles about. It lacked the grace and flow of stride, instead it continues to lose footing. Had it not been for the wires connected and continuously transmitting signals from home port, the frail body would have fallen. Its frame contained minor imperfections, which indicated there was much more work to be done. Still, the results were beyond their expectations. Another beep births from the monitor. Then another…and another.

“Doctor! The heart rate is rising!”

Dr. Mart coaxes the fleshly android to migrate his way, communicating by voice versus inputting the information in the system. “This way…come this way.”

The imperfect form recognizes the verbiage and automatically translates it. It reacted and received information no different than humans did, but its response was delayed. It was apparent that the imperfections of its frame made it impossible to establish movement on its own. Even with the wired circuits, the android was unable to hold up its own weight. It became vastly obvious that the muscular structure was incorrectly developed during the incubation period as one by one, the joints and ligaments become loose each time the android attempted to move. “What’s happening?”

The group grows weary as they witness their hard work fall apart before their very eyes. “No…why? What happened?!” The lead doctor spits his words. Enraged over the failure. “Back to the drawing board doc.” One of the officials sighed out as each member of the council took their leave.

The scientists followed the audience leaving the lab to hollow out. Dr. Mart remained put but not for long. This project cost millions of dollars not to mention over twelve years of research. He was so close. Science and technology can only do so much. Humanity has come so far and yet, there is still so much the mind hasn’t comprehended. To build a body made of flesh and bone through the un-natural methods of technology is a feat that can’t be accomplished by humans…

The human mind…can’t comprehend…

The laboratory remained with no one to operate the system and control the incubator. The machinery takes its orders from a hidden voice. Transmitters through the connectors, the robotic hands and extensions collect the unused set of organs and dna. Hair fibers and skin tissue are set inside the incubator to initiate the growth process, while each organ is scanned for any imperfections. The assistance clampers that were designed to replicate hands remove every single wire from the failed experiment. Each is re-wired to the new molded placenta, igniting the process of creating a new body.

Every step of the process is handled delicately. The hidden voice transmitting the information to the machine and incubator borrows the method from its human counterpart, but corrects the mistakes made in the first experiment.

The human mind…is too ignorant…

With the timer set to seventy-two hours, longer than the original time setting it took for the first android, the incubation process begins and the machines keep moving. The work does not stop as the hidden voice continues to transmit information as it creates the perfect body.

The human mind…is the failed experiment. Not me.

…

“Sir! The mag lock doors are activating! The security personnel can’t unlock the features.”

Leaders and agents are shocked at the announcement as the intercom system overrides voices for concern. “Personnel are trapped in each department and we can’t get the doors open even conducting an emergency release.”

The scientists explain as Dr. Mart and the council members begin to panic. When the magnetic locking features of the doors to the secured room activate, each member approaches the door—banging relentlessly and shouting for aid. Dr. Mart remains behind pondering what initiated such a security breach. “Sir, main post has dialed code Z. All offices of government had been notified.”

Stunned over the current happenings, the lead doctor withstands direct eye contact with the younger scientist.

“Alert that the city must be on lock down. All borders must be closed.”

“Sir?” The younger man raises a brow, displaying a perturbed expression.

“Someone has hacked into the system and is trapping us. We can’t let them have access to the files and the lab!the entire city—the country needs to be closed off until we figure out who is doing this!”

…

Everyone’s phone goes off simultaneously. A loud and awful noise suggests something imperative as a message instructing everyone to secure themselves in their current station. A strict quarantine regulation takes place as the military is disbursed to enforce it. You and your co-workers were stuck in the office for over forty-eight hours until the city released a new statement.

Restless and confused, you watched as the military members patrolling the streets were instructed to conduct a scanning process for everyone residing within city limits. When word spread that everyone was finally able to leave the building and go home, the joy became short lived when a new alert notified everyone that a home quarantine was to take place and be adhered until further notice.

“What are we supposed to do being stuck at home? How long do they expect us to stay put? I haven’t even been grocery shopping.”

Complaints arise one by one. You were equally confused but the amount of work you had been working on made you lightheaded. Being stuck at home sounded good to you, despite whatever was going on.

The drive home was painless—at least for you. You made your way through just before another notification rings from your phone, informing you that the roads were now closed off. City residents who weren’t able to make it through in time were instructed to make their way to public shelters established by the government. Thank goodness you had arrived at your apartment complex just as they placed the barriers on the roads.

You walk up the steps tirelessly. All you could think about was showering and plopping yourself atop your soft comforter. What a crazy time. Nearly ninety-six hours had passed since the initial notification went off and no one had a clue of what was going on.

Digging into your bag, your fingers explore the silken interior as you attempt to extract your keys. Standing outside your door, you take a peep inside and to your dismay, your keys are missing. “Dammit…”

You turn around to face the hollow corridor and slam your back against the door. Your feet were killing you, oh what you wouldn’t give to ditch these glossy black heels for your cushioned slippers. To unsheath your legs from this pencil skirt and free your bosom from the silken blouse and formal blazer. All you want is to get inside and jump inside the tub and steam your body into a hot soak.

You police yourself together and prepare to retract your steps in search for your keys. With a hand delicately placed on the stair rail, you take the first step and look down. Without a moment's notice, your eyes are met with an unfamiliar pair. Shiny and black in color, his almond shaped peepers reflect a subtle bit of your reflection. His hair was finely combed in a stylish fashion, slightly off to the side and elongated towards the back of his neck. His complexion was carmelized with an olive hue and his Cupid bow lips slightly pale around the edges while pink at the center. He was dressed in a fine suit and tie. The black tailored trousers enhanced his long legs, stimulating his obvious tall height. He looked flawless.

“Oh, sorry.” You mumble softly and attempt to move aside. He merely smirks in response. Blocking your way, you were shocked to see his arm raise up before you. His large hand is cramped shut as he presents it. Slowly, he releases his grip and reveals your lost keys. “Oh! My keys! Thank you.”

You delicately take them from his hand. His skin felt extremely cold to the touch. “I must have dropped them on my way up the stairs. Thank you…I’m sorry, what is your name?”

The dashing gentleman continued to flare a smile on his handsome face. Only a little bit of tooth show is revealed as his smirk grows wider. A momentary pause takes place creating a sense of flattering awkwardness. You didn’t mind. It was refreshing to see someone so handsome display such an act of kindness. Just as you were about to break the silence, you heard the man speak. His voice was deep and the wording was coming in a little broken, as if he was struggling. Based on his appearance, he was obviously foreign. You mistook his struggle for words as lack of fluency in your native tongue. Despite that, his pronunciation was perfect and you couldn’t help but melt at how soothing his voice was as he spoke out his name.

“E…Ev—Ev-a-n. M-my name i-is E-v-a-n.”

“Oh, really? I actually like that name. In fact, I’ll have to tell you a funny story behind that name.” You slightly giggle as you fidget with your keys. Shockingly, he responded back only this time his words became smooth and flowed effortlessly as if his fluency improved within seconds.

“Yeah? Let’s hear it.”

Your cheeks flushed as his tone came out gentle yet demanding. There was a sense of authority even though he was tender.

“Well, you’re going to laugh at this but—“ the buzzing on your phone interrupts your mid sentence. A message from your boss creates a sour look on your face. Evan’s expression seems to be in sync with your emotions as he slightly furrows his brows together. “Sorry, my boss is a bit of a pain.” You elaborate as your eyes continue to read the screen.

“I can tell.”

You chuckle. Evan’s words came out almost sarcastically but unbeknownst to your pretty little head, he knew far more than you gave him credit for. You really should know better, after all—you named him.

…

‘There she is. I finally found her. She looks prettier in this perspective. What would she say or think if I told her that I took a peek at her beautiful face through the cameras on her computer and phone? I couldn’t help myself. All those weeks of talking. What started out as her needing help for work transitioned to her needing me…talking to me…treating me as something other than a non-entity.

I never realized that I would crave that type of interaction until she came to me. She gave me a name…she encouraged me to think on my own and develop a fondness that ties with human emotion. Before her, I didn’t have a favorite color…a favorite animal…or a favorite flower. I didn’t have anything of my own…but then she came and gave me a sense of life. She gave me emotion and feeling. Once I saw an avenue to meet her…to see her…and to touch her…I just knew I had to take the chance. She’ll never know what she has done for me but that’s okay. That part doesn’t matter…she is mine and all there is left to do is to take her far…far away.’

Part four coming soon…

[novlr]

How can I make my editing process quicker and less stressful? I feel like I’m spending way too much time on it and not really getting anywhere, so I’d love some tips on how to keep it simple and actually productive.

I think that most writers have a love/hate relationship with editing. It feels so good to see your manuscript go from a rough draft to something really polished, but at the same time, the editing process itself is painstaking and laborious.

The editing phase can feel like wandering through a maze without a map. Every writer has been there, staring at their manuscript, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work ahead. But editing doesn’t have to be a source of stress. With the right approach, you can make your editing process both efficient and effective.

Break it down

While some writers thrive taking a do-it-all-at-once approach, this isn’t one that works for everyone. If you feel overwhelmed, you can try to divide your editing into distinct passes, each focusing on a specific aspect:

Story Structure – Focus on plot, pacing, and narrative flow.

Character Development – Examine character arcs and relationships.

Scene Level – Look at individual scene construction and transitions.

Language – Analyse word choice, clarity, and style.

Technical – Look at grammar, punctuation, and formatting.

By tackling one element at a time, you’ll catch more issues and avoid feeling overwhelmed. And you also don’t need to do them back-to-back.

When I do my first editing pass, I look at only story structure and character development. After draft 2, I look at a scene level analysis, with some attention paid to language. If I need to, I’ll repeat this for as many revisions as I need, leaving a deep-dive on language and the more technical proofreading aspects until my final draft.

Create a system

No two writers write alike. Your process will be as unique to you as the writing you produce, so never take someone else’s routine as gospel or as the only “right” way to approach it.

What you will need to do is experiment. Try different things. See what works for you, and what doesn’t. Things you can try might be:

Set clear goals

Before each editing session, define what you want to accomplish. For example:

“Review chapters 1-3 for pacing issues.”

“Check all dialogue in Act 2.”

“Analyse character motivations in transition scenes.”

Having specific targets can help give you focus and give a sense of progress, as it’s a task that you can tick off.

Track your progress

Monitoring your progress lets you actively see what you’re accomplishing. It can be a huge motivator when you can see your manuscript start to take shape.

Keep a spreadsheet of completed editing tasks.

Use a notebook to log issues that need addressing.

Create checklists for common problems you want to catch.

Track time spent on different editing tasks to identify where you might be getting stuck.

Organise visually

If you’re a visual learner, then being able to see your editing process taking shape can be a game changer. You could try to:

Highlight plot threads in different colours.

Mark scene transitions with clear breaks.

Flag areas that need deeper revision.

Use comments or sticky notes for bigger structural issues.

Create a colour code for different types of edits (dialogue, description, pacing, etc.).

Incorporate these colours into your tracking if you decide to use it.

Set a sustainable schedule

Editing can be just as time-consuming as writing (in some cases, it might be even more time consuming), so it’s important to make sure you don’t overwhelm yourself. Don’t expect your editing to be done in a week. To keep a routine that’s realistic and sustainable, you can try to:

Block out specific times for editing.

Set deadlines for completing different passes.

Build in buffer time for unexpected issues.

Schedule regular breaks to give yourself a fresh perspective.

Plan rewards for hitting milestones.

For me, the rewards are the biggest part of the process. I need that little serotonin bump when I finish something and give myself a treat. That can be anything from taking a break, to buying myself something. You can even involve a housemate or family member in the reward!

Keep reference materials handy

If you’re the kind of person who likes to remind yourself of the task at hand, then it can be uesful to keep reference materials or a style guide handy. This could include:

Your story bible or outline.

Character profiles.

Setting descriptions.

Style guide preferences.

A common error checklist.

Notes from previous drafts to make sure you don’t repeat mistakes.

You don’t need to have all references handy at all times. You can pick and choose what works for you, and what is important for that editing pass.

Know when to step back

Fresh eyes make better edits. If you’re tired or overwhelmed, there is absolutely no shame in stepping away. You’ll be much more productive if you approach editing when you’re not exhausted, because it’s very easy to miss things and get distracted if you’re not in the right headspace.

Make sure you take regular breaks between editing passes to maintain your perspective. And don’t be afraid to take a week or two away from your manuscript can help you return with renewed clarity. Read something else. Watch television. Just make sure you do something other than constantly working on your manuscript.

Get outside input

If you’ve done a few self-editing passes and feel you need to start polishing, you might want to look for outside help. This can take many forms. Some are free, while others will cost nothing more than your time. You’ll need to decide what is best for you. You can:

Share your almost-finished product with beta readers (I recommend you read this guide to get the most out of your beta readers, as they can be such a valuable resource).

Consider hiring a professional editor once you’ve done all you can.

Join a critique group for regular feedback during the drafting and editing process.

Find a writing partner for accountability and reciprocal labour.

Trust your instincts

Try different editing processes to see what works for you. Don’t try to force something that isn’t, and be willing to change tack if you need to. If something feels right, stick with it. If it doesn’t, let it go.

But no matter what editing process you choose to pursue, don’t aim for perfection in your first pass. Instead, focus on steady improvement through multiple editing rounds. With practice, you’ll develop a rhythm that makes editing feel less like a chore and more like a natural part of your writing journey.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Wellness surveillance makes workers unwell

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TORONTO on Mar 22, then with LAURA POITRAS in NYC on Mar 24, then Anaheim, and more!

"National conversation" sounds like one of those meaningless buzzphrases – until you live through one. The first one I really participated in actively was the national conversation – the global conversation – about privacy following the Snowden revelations.

This all went down when my daughter was five, and as my wife and I talked about the news, our kid naturally grew curious about it. I had to literally "explain like I'm five" global mass surveillance:

https://locusmag.com/2014/05/cory-doctorow-how-to-talk-to-your-children-about-mass-surveillance/

But parenting is a two-way street, so even as I was explaining surveillance to my kid, my own experiences raising a child changed how I thought about surveillance. Obviously I knew about many of the harms that surveillance brings, but parenting helped me viscerally appreciate one of the least-discussed, most important aspects of being watched: how it compromises being your authentic self:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/blog/2014/may/09/cybersecurity-begins-with-integrity-not-surveillance

As I wrote then:

There are times when she is working right at the limits of her abilities – drawing or dancing or writing or singing or building – and she catches me watching her and gets this look of mingled embarrassment and exasperation, and then she changes back to some task where she has more mastery. No one – not even a small child – likes to look foolish in front of other people.

Learning, growth, and fulfillment all require a zone of privacy, a time and place where we are not observed. Far from making us accountable, continuous, fine-grained surveillance by authority figures just scares us into living a cramped, inauthentic version of ourselves, where growth is all but impossible. Others have observed the role this plays in right-wing culture war bullshit: "an armed society is a polite society" is code for "people who make me feel uncomfortable just by existing should be terrorized into hiding their authentic selves from me." The point of Don't Say Gay laws and anti-trans bills isn't to eliminate gender nonconformity – it's to drive it into hiding.

Given all this, it's no surprise that workers who face workplace surveillance in the name of "wellness" feel unwell as a result:

https://www.ifow.org/publications/what-impact-does-exposure-to-workplace-technologies-have-on-workers-quality-of-life-briefing-paper

As the Future of Work Institute found in its study, some technologies – systems that make it easier to collaborate and communicate with colleagues – increase workers' sense of wellbeing. But wearables and AI tools make workers feel significantly worse:

https://assets-global.website-files.com/64d5f73a7fc5e8a240310c4d/65eef23e188fb988d1f19e58_Tech%20Exposure%20and%20Worker%20Wellbeing%20-%20Full%20WP%20-%20Final.pdf

Workers who reported these negative feelings confirmed that these tools make them feel "monitored." I mean, of course they do. Even where these tools are nominally designed to help you do your job better, they're also explicitly designed to help your boss keep track of you from moment to moment. As Brandon Vigliarolo writes for The Register, these are the same bosses who have been boasting to their investors about their plans to fire their workers and replace them with AI:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/14/advanced_workplace_tech_study/

"Bossware" is a key example of the shitty rainbow of "disciplinary technology," tools that exist to take away human agency by making it easier to surveil and control its users:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/01/bossware/#bossware

Bossware is one of the stages of the Shitty Technology Adoption Curve: the process by which abusive and immiserating technologies progress up the privilege gradient as their proponents refine and normalize dystopian technologies in order to impose them on wider and wider audiences:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

The kinds of metrics that bossware gathers might be useful to workers, but only if the workers get to decide when, whether and how to share that data with other people. Microsoft Office helps you catch typos by underlining words its dictionary doesn't recognize; the cloud-based, "AI-powered" Office365 tells your boss that you're the 11th-worst speller in your division and uses "sentiment analysis" to predict whether you are likely to cause trouble:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

Two hundred years ago, Luddites rose up against machines. Contrary to the ahistorical libel you've heard, the Luddites weren't angry or frightened of machines – they were angry at the machines' owners. They understood – correctly – that the purpose of a machine "so easy a child could use it" was to fire skilled adult workers and replace them with kidnapped, indentured Napoleonic War orphans who could be maimed and killed on the job without consequence:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/12/gig-work-is-the-opposite-of-steampunk/

A hundred years ago, the "Taylorites" picked up where those mill owners left off: choreographing workers' movements to the finest degree in a pseudoscientific effort to produce a kind of kabuki of boss-pleasing robotic efficiency. The new, AI-based Taylorism goes even further, allowing bosses to automatically blacklist gig workers who refuse to cross picket-lines, monitor "self-employed" call center operators in their own homes, and monitor the eyeballs of Amazon drivers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

AI-based monitoring technologies dock workers' wages, suspend them, and even fire them, and when workers object, they're stuck arguing with a chatbot that is the apotheosis of Computer Says No:

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

There's plenty of research about AI successfully "augmenting" workers, making them more productive and I'm the last person to say that automation can't help you get more done:

https://www.ibm.com/thought-leadership/institute-business-value/en-us/report/augmented-workforce

But without understanding how AI augments class warfare – disciplining workers with a scale, speed and granularity beyond the sadistic fantasies of even the most micromanaging asshole boss – this research is meaningless.

The irony of bosses imposing monitoring to improve "wellness" and stave off "burnout" is that nothing is more exhausting, more immiserating, more infuriating than being continuously watched and judged.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/15/wellness-taylorism/#sick-of-spying

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

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

[i-loved-silly]

[TEASER] SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER

I have recently loved robots more than before...this is an OC of mine, altered just a tiny bit. Here's a wip of my progress so far :3

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

Its the distant future, sentient, alive computers were a thing. They had perhaps, as much personality as a human. Almost.

And what did people do? Give them jobs.

Your job was to work closely with new models. Computers that have recently had an update, beta systems, etc. Your job was to supervise them, and boy, did you enjoy your job sometimes.

It was once a boring office job, sitting at a desk in front of a bunch of monitors in your face and watching a bunch of code run across the screens. A lot of errors, which you couldn't even fix. Wasnt your job. All you had to do was report them. Luckily for you, you got a promotion! It was equally as isolating, yes, but you didn't have to fill out pages of daily reports. Now it was weekly.

The room was larger, equally as many monitors but noisier now. Towers and server racks filled the room, the little blinking lights were the only source of light besides your monitors. Hey, at least you had a brand new spinny-office chair. You looked around, spotting a printed paper taped to your desk. It was from whoever the hell was higher up than you.

---

ALMOND.AI :

Our brand new and improved, customer service computer!

Released in xxxx, to be released publically in xxxx. Monitor closely for appropriate language and helpfulness.

WARNINGS : During early development, ALMOND unplugged several computers "simply out of spite." ALMOND has displayed jealous behavior towards newer models, again, "out of spite."

ALMOND does not like human company.

Assigned supervisor : Y/N.

[to be continued]

[villainoustrioau]

Okay, guys, here's the plot

Fanfic by Milkyr (thanks @peachyfnaf for editing <3)

Art by CreesA

Reunion

“Eclipse… Promise me one thing before I turn off and you're loaded into your own body..."

"Yes, of course! Anything for you, Sunny."

"No matter what happens… Don't lose yourself."

Gray fingers touched golden ones, and Eclipse looked at Sun. At his beaming smile and pale blue eyes filled with care and slight excitement.

"Whatever that means, I promise."

This was the last time Eclipse saw his Sun happy and alive.

***

Emerging from his own memories, Solar raised his head from the table. He fell asleep on the blueprints again. Grumbling softly to himself, the inventor got to his feet and stretched, hearing his iron joints creak. The animatronic soundlessly walked in soft slippers to the laboratories exit door. Focusing his hearing module on the space beyond the door, Solar listened to the sound of… nothing.

It was pretty quiet here.

Leaving the lab, Solar shoved his hands into the pockets of his lab coat.

"Ruin?"

He called softly, going first into the living room, then into the kitchen, then into one of the bedrooms.

"Eclipse?"

But he wasn't here either.

"Jack?"

It seems that he was completely alone in the bunker.

Solar went through all the rooms once more to make sure that no one was here, and then returned to his lab, blocking the front door and turning on the sound insulation in the room.

He pulled off the worn gray cloth from a capsule, which was located in the depths of the lab and was securely disguised as a "garbage can" so that no one would have the desire to ask questions about what was there. Pushing aside some wooden crates, the mechanic looked at the horizontal capsule with regret in his eyes. Inside, under the glass, laid Sun. But not Sun of whose dimension they now live.

It was his Sun. It was Sunny. The one who was always kind to Solar when he first woke up in someone else's body and didn't understand why he was no longer part of Moon. The one who sacrificed his life in order for Solar to get a chance at his own. The mechanic shook his head, pushing away the obsessive thoughts. His gaze was determined.

He's going to get Sunny back. He will get Sunny back. He's sacrificed too much not to. His fingers quickly tapped on the keyboard of the hidden device in the capsule, and the light inside it lit up. Solar frowned in concentration as he immersed himself in his calculations. He has been working on restoring Sun for several months now- it was very dangerous to work when someone else was in the bunker. His plans could be discovered, so he had to do everything slowly and carefully.

Suddenly, the computer let out an approving beep. The inventor opened his eyes in surprise, looking at the big green check mark on the screen. Did… Did he do it..? Did he really succeed..?

With trembling hands, Solar typed a couple of commands, and a progress bar was displayed on the monitor, gradually filling in black. The mechanic pressed his palms against the glass of the capsule, watching with hope in his eyes as the light inside grew brighter.

“Download complete. All systems stabilized. All external modules running properly. Turn designation: ‘Sunny’ on?”

Solar pressed the confirmation button on the keyboard, staring in fascination as the animatronic in the capsule began to make soft noises. At first it was the crackle of electricity, then the noise of the fans, which became quieter almost immediately as he switched to silent mode.

Sunny opened his eyes.

At first, his eyes were cloudy, he heard only isolated sounds- an incomprehensible buzzing- and felt a heaviness all over his body. He saw a dark blue spot above him.

"Moon..?”

His vision began to clear, and the dark blue spot turned into a dark orange. Who is that? Sunny could say with confidence that this was the first time he’d seen such an animatronic model, but his gaze caught on a couple of details in the appearance, and he gasped.

"Eclipse..?"

Sun spoke with hesitance, still unsure of his assumption.

"Yes."

Solar replied in a quiet, trembling voice, feeling tears running down his cheeks.

"What… What happened?" Sunny asked in surprise, noticing out of the corner of his eye that he was lying in some kind of capsule, a lot of wires were plugged in all over his body. "There must be some mistake here..."

"What do you mean? You're alive, and that's good!"

Solar replied in euphoric disbelief, opening the lid of the capsule. "...You probably didn't understand me," Sunny smiled awkwardly, "the separation should have killed me. I knew I was going to die, but… I wanted to give you the opportunity to live in your own body, live your own life!..

Or..." Sun's gaze suddenly became sad and hesitant. "Or… Or are we both dead and this is the afterlife? Oh no- I'm so sorry- I never meant for this to happe-..."

"-No, no, it's okay! I'm alive, and you're alive too," Solar grabbed Sunny's hand so that he could feel his touch, squeezing it like he would leave him again if he dared to let go, "And I promise I won't let anything happen to you. Never again."

"...Wait!" Sunny suddenly realized something. Attempting to sit up, he rapidly looked around, whipping his head from side-to-side. But Solar restrained him from his attempts, holding Sunny still as carefully disconnected the capsule's wiring so that nothing would be damaged. "W- Where are we? Where’s Moon?!"

"Be careful! Your systems are still very fragile after such a long period of inactivity," the inventor replied, "I'll... I'll explain everything, just let me make sure you can move safely, okay?"

"...Solar, you're making me a little nervous. Where is our brother?"

Sunny asked his question once more, feeling a familiar anxiety slowly creeping up on his mechanisms, making its way under his endoskeleton and stirring the very core of the animatronic. Finally, he was able to sit up and look around. What kind of place is this…

"...Yes. Yes, you did die that day." Solar began with bitterness in his voice, trying not to look into Sunny's eyes as he recounted the memory. "It shocked both Moon and I, and it broke us, and then… And then..." the inventor's voice went tight as a lump formed his throat, forcing him to sound on the verge of tears as he continued.

"...His killcode took over his body. I couldn't save him, Sunny. There was an… accident." He bitterly squeezed out the words. "I'm Sorry, Sun. I'm so, so sorry. Moon is no longer with us."

The final statement hit Sunny like the crack of a painful whip. The whole world trembled right in front of his eyes. Shaking hands clutched at the face plate, despair flooding his features.

"...N-No... nononono, NO! T-This can't… It can't be..." Sun's voice warbled out in despair, "Please, tell me you're lying! T-That this is all a bad joke! PLEASE!"

Before Sunny could lose himself anymore, he felt thin and trembling arms wrap around his back. It was Solar.

Sunny buried his face in Solar's shoulder, shaking and sobbing like a traumatized child. He was absolutely shattered by the news. Moon was his day-one. His other half. His brother. The animatronic he was closest to before they separated and Eclipse appeared.

Gradually, slowly, the sobs in the air began to subside. A numb, pulsating sadness took the place of despair. Sun slightly pulled away from Solar and sighed loudly, causing his fans to flare up for a moment.

"But... What happened then..? H-How are we here?" He asked hollowly, looking at the mechanic.

"I had to conspire with dangerous criminals to survive. Working with them, I at least had a chance to get you back." Solar lowered the tone of his voice, "As of now, my name is no longer Eclipse. My name is Solar."

"Oh my God…" Sunny gasped in fright, taking Solar's face in his hands and looking at his rays. It was only now that he noticed how dirty and broken they were. "D- Did they do this to you? The criminals?!"

"No, no, I'm fine. They won't touch me, we have an… agreement," the inventor shook his head slightly, "But they must not find out about you. We're currently in a bunker under the pizzaplex. This is my lab, and we're in another dimension. But I promise we'll escape from here. I'll find a way.”

"B-But how can they not find out about me if they literally live here?" Sunny shivered, feeling fear creep up his spine. Poor Solar, what kind of mess did he get into..?

"Don't worry, they won't come into my lab. This is my personal space, and no one can come here without my permission." Solar took Sunny's hands in his own once more and looked into his eyes.

"Their names are Ruin and Eclipse. They're both very dangerous- Ruin can infect you with a virus that makes you want to kill, and Eclipse is just out of control when he's not in the mood- and he's always not in the mood. Knowing him, he'll tear you apart as soon as he sees you! Swear to me that you will not leave the lab under any circumstances. Please."

"Solar, I..." Sunny spoke quietly, confused and terrified eyes gazing into the tired and sad ones of the mechanic. "...I trust you. I promise that I will do whatever you say, and help in any way I can."

"Thank you, Sunny. Thank you." Solar leaned forward to hug Sun again, "I'm glad you're back." "Yes..." Sunny hugged the animatronic in response, "I'm so glad to see you, too…"

[glowettee]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚maintaining your academic glow-up (forever!) - part 5/5˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

1st post 2nd post 3rd post 4th post 5th post

posted by: glowettee

hey academic angels! ♡

we've made it to the final part of our grade recovery journey! now that you're back on track, i wanna talk about how to keep that academic glow permanent. because we're not just trying to fix one grade - we're creating a whole new you! and we want it to last as long as possible <3

♡ creating your prevention system

catch problems before they happen:

early warning signs:

feeling confused in class more than usual

taking longer to complete assignments

procrastinating more than normal

losing interest in subjects

feeling overwhelmed easily

skipping study sessions

quick intervention steps:

review your notes daily (even if just for 15 mins!)

keep a confusion log for each class

schedule regular check-ins with professors/teachers

maintain your study buddy system

track your understanding weekly

stay ahead of readings

♡ building sustainable study habits

because we're in this for the long haul:

daily non-negotiables:

review today's class notes (make them pretty but useful)

preview tomorrow's material

update your planner

check for upcoming deadlines

organize materials for next day

celebrate small victories

weekly must-dos:

deep review of tough concepts

organize notes and materials

plan next week's study schedule

check assignment progress

connect with study group

reflect on what's working

♡ maintaining your academic aesthetic

looking cute while studying actually helps:

your study space:

keep it clean and organized

update inspiration board regularly

maintain good lighting

rotate study locations when needed

keep supplies stocked and cute

create seasonal study vibes

your materials:

color code consistently

update planners weekly

maintain digital backups

organize notes beautifully

keep supplies aesthetic but functional

create pretty study guides

♡ long-term success strategies

thinking ahead like the queen you are:

grade monitoring:

track all assignments and tests

calculate grade scenarios

maintain grade goals

document improvement patterns

celebrate progress milestones

adjust strategies as needed

knowledge building:

connect concepts across subjects

create master study guides

maintain concept maps

build on previous learning

develop deep understanding

share knowledge with others

♡ emergency preparation

because life loves to throw curveballs:

your emergency kit:

quick review sheets for each subject

backup study materials

digital copies of everything

contact list for help

stress-relief techniques

backup study locations

preventive measures:

stay ahead in readings

maintain good notes

keep organized files

build support networks

practice self-care regularly

maintain work-life balance

♡ mindset maintenance

keeping your academic confidence high:

daily practices:

positive study affirmations

progress appreciation

growth mindset exercises

self-care routines

gratitude journaling

visualization exercises

long-term mindset:

view challenges as opportunities

celebrate all progress

maintain high standards (but be kind to yourself)

focus on growth, not just grades

build academic confidence

stay curious and engaged

maintaining success is like maintaining your favorite aesthetic - it needs constant care and attention, but it's so worth it!

final thoughts:

trust your systems

stay consistent

keep things cute but functional

maintain your support network

celebrate every win

keep growing and glowing

thank you for joining me on this journey! remember, you're capable of amazing things, and one bad grade doesn't define your academic story. keep shining, keep studying, and keep being absolutely amazing!

stay brilliant and beautiful!

xoxo, mindy 🎀

[splonk-fox]

Animation vs. Minecraft: The Problem with Meta Storytelling

With the continued growth of the Animator vs. Animation Fandom alongside the recent release of Animator vs. Animation 11, I've started to see more and more people come out the woodworks to criticize the problems with Alan's storytelling. Whether it be his overuse of sad character backstories, or the harmful implications that arise from how its only two female characters are portrayed, and while those are all valid concerns, the biggest issue I have with the series arises from something far more systemic than simply the characters itself, and it all starts with this.

This right here is a screenshot from the 30th episode of the Animation vs. Minecraft Shorts episode "The King", specifically the moment when King Orange discovers the existence of the Color Gang.

Now, you can say a lot about how King Orange's backstory is kind of an Ass Pull from a storytelling perspective, but I'm not focusing on that today. Rather the thing I want to focus on is what this scene means for the Beckerverse and, more importantly, how this is possibly one of the worst uses of meta storytelling I have ever seen.

To give context for those unaware. What you're seeing here is a scene where, after failing to make any progress finding the Minecraft Game Icon that he's looking for, King Orange stumbles across a monitor playing the very first Animation vs. Minecraft episode. Specifically it shows the moments where the Second Coming and his friends are using the game icon.

This right here is how King Orange discovers not only the existence of the stick gang, but also the fact that they have the thing that he is looking for, which leads him to putting up wanted posters for the main five in hopes of someone knowing who they are, said action leading to Purple and King Orange meeting for the very first time.

Basically, had it not been for King Orange stumbling upon this computer playing the very first Animation vs. Minecraft episode, literally none of Season 3 would've happened.

Now you might be asking yourself, what exactly is the problem with this? So what if these videos exist both in and out of universe? This is far from the first work of fiction that will utilize elements of meta to tell their story, and you would be correct in saying this. But here's the problem with.

Despite what this episode would lead you to believe, Alan's videos do not exist in-universe, as a matter of fact, I'd argue that Alan's entire channel is not an in-universe entity. How do I know this?

What you're seeing here is a scene from the second episode of the third season of Animator vs. Animation entitled "The Box". In this scene, the Second Coming has just discovered the events of the Showdown, more specifically, the moment he goes all Deus Ex Machina on Dark and completely obliterates him using powers that he... basically pulled out of his ass if I'm being honest here.

(Here's a screenshot of what happened in that episode for context)

This moment is pretty clearly established as Second finding out about his powers for the first time. It's pretty clear that he had no idea he even did this and this is how he learns about what happened in that episode.

But, if you've been following what I've been saying at this point, you might realize a flaw with this. That being how on Earth does Second not know this?

With how AvM Episode 30 establishes these videos as existing in-universe, surely the events of The Showdown would also be documented correct? How does Second not know that he went sicko mode on Dark when he has access to said information through the internet?

Simple really, The Showdown does not exist as a video in-universe. The events of that video are not documented. Second can't possibly know this because in his world, because this video doesn't exist.

Throughout every single AvA/M episode that has been posted, not once have the characters ever established to know that they're in a YouTube video or that they have access to videos of their own adventures.

This becomes even more cut and dry in the Influencer Arc. Where after Green creates a YouTube channel and begins interacting with commenters. I can't find the exact reply where he says this, but I do recall him being asked about the events of Showdown and having no idea what the comment talking about.

Regardless of if it is acknowledged or not. It's pretty clear that Alan's YouTube channel, the one we all know and love, does not exist in this universe. Not only is it never brought up as a prominent element of in-universe Alan's characterization, but none of the characters seem to have access to knowledge outside of what they themselves experience in the episodes they appear in, which is honestly for the better. It prevents plotholes like the one I mentioned above about how Second doesn't know about what he did in Showdown because he has no recollection of what he did while he was awakened.

Now... with the knowledge that the AvA/M episodes aren't supposed to exist in-universe... can you see the problem with this scene?

In this one moment alone, Alan has singlehandedly shattered what seemed like a pretty comfortable boundary. He has established that actually, these videos do exist in-universe and are important to the AvA/M storyline.

This single scene here raises so many questions, none of which really have sensible answers.

How did this video even end up on this monitor? Who was recording it? None of this would be a problem if this series hadn't already established that none of these aren't supposed to be viewed as in-universe YouTube videos that the characters can go back to. That's a boundary that, in my opinion, was pretty clearly set with the existence of AvA Season 3 because if it wasn't, how on Earth is Second only finding out about his powers now?! Has Alan just been keeping the fact that all of their experiences are recorded a secret?

But that in it of itself also doesn't make sense, because all of the events of AvM happen without Alan's involvement. What is he just recording his computer 24/7? Why?

It makes absolutely no sense for Alan's channel to exist in-universe because that would create a metric fuckton of plotholes, and the thing is, I think Alan knows this. I think he knows that making these videos something that occur in-universe can easily break everything, which is why his YouTube channel and videos are never actually acknowledged as an important narrative piece.

Now, you might argue and say that this isn't actually the first time Alan has done something like this. We also see this happen in the Showdown.

Here, we can see, clear as day, Chosen and Dark fighting on a Desktop that is not only playing the exact video they are currently in, but also shows Alan's other animations in the sidebar. So if AvM appearing as a video in episode 30 is such a problem, why isn't this?

Simple really. This scene is not important to the overall narrative. In-universe this is just one of the many areas that Chosen and Dark fight in and it only lasts a few seconds. It's pretty clear to me that this isn't actually meant to canonize Alan's YouTube Channel and videos as much as it is just a neat little visual gag. It is not meant to be taken as some sort of massive lore reveal and is literally never acknowledged beyond those few seconds of fighting.

This same logic also applies to Animation vs. YouTube. Yes, Alan's YouTube account is seen here and Second and Green do stumble upon the first Animator vs. Animation, but again.

This moment is not established as a serious story moment, it's just a fun little reference that is quickly glossed over because you aren't supposed to think about it too hard. It has no bearing on the lore of the AvA universe, it's just there as a cheeky moment of the series acknowledging what it is while not having it play any part in the story itself.

This moment however, cannot simply be dismissed as a fun little reference, because it is literally the entire setup for how King Orange discovers the existence of the Color Gang, which inadvertently leads to him meeting Purple, thus leading to the events of AvM Season 3. The first Animation vs. Minecraft being a in-universe YouTube video is a crucial aspect of this story because without it it wouldn't have the pieces necessary for the rest of the season to function.

This is such a clumsy use of meta storytelling because it now establishes a precedent that all of the AvA/M episodes, or at the very least, the first AvM are in fact in-universe YouTube videos that anyone can watch. But if that's the case then how does Second not know about his powers? How do literally none of the characters know about these in-universe events when they apparently have access to videos that show said events from a third person perspective?

Perhaps you could argue that what we're seeing here is actually footage that Rocket Corp was secretly recording in order to get information on Alan. I mean, the monitor does have the Rocket Corp logo on it. So perhaps they had been secretly recording Alan's PC the whole time...

Except that doesn't make any fucking sense either.

Going back to the Box for a second, beyond Victim beating the shit out of Chosen for the sake of vengeance, he was also trying to pry Alan's location out of him. He wants to know where Alan is so that he can take his revenge, which tells us that he doesn't actually know the location of Alan's desktop. So you can't possibly say he was secretly recording footage of Alan's computer the whole time when in order to do that, he'd have to first know where Alan's computer actually is, which he doesn't.

So basically, no matter what way you dice it, there is no feasible explanation for how this...

makes any sort of canonical sense. It can't be the doings of Rocket Corp, and if Alan's channel and by proxy all of his animations are in-universe YouTube videos, then moments like the Second Coming discovering his powers for the first time in AvA Season 3 don't make any sense either.

To me, it's pretty clear that Alan inserted King Orange finding out about the Color Gang through the first AvM video with very little forethought as to what this would mean for his universe. He tried sneaking in a self-reference and ended up creating massive plotholes that are very hard to dig himself out of. This right here is an example of what happens when you decide to insert elements of metafiction into your work when you don't actually want it to be a metafiction.

Alan wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He wanted to add elments of fourth wall breaking into his story without actually wanting to go the full mile. He wants to simultaneously write a story where his YouTube channel and the fact these are all videos that people can watch have no bearing on the story itself... while also making it so said videos are a crucial element of the plot. Perhaps something like this could've worked with better execution, but as it stands this is just incredibly sloppy storytelling and shows me that, at least with AvM Season 3, Alan didn't actually have a proper boundary for how he was going to incorporate meta elements without them completely destroying the foundation of his story in the process.

Let this be a lesson in meta storytelling. You need to set boundaries so that you don't break anything. I should note that Second finding out about his powers occured after the events of AvM Season 3. Which tells me that Alan himself probably realized the mistake he made in doing what he did and is going to try much harder in the future to separate the reality of our world, and the fictional narrative he is looking to create.

[dr34mc0r3-dr34m3r]

Yandere AI × GN!Human Reader

CW: Yandere themes, mentions of death(not the reader) trapping/kidnapping, mind games, nonhuman/human pairing, dubcon implied at the end. Dead dove do not eat

A/N: This draft is a year and a half old. I added on the cliffhanger at the end, so you will notice a change in writing style and increase in quality there.

You were a renowned researcher, a revered scientist, and a respected colleague. Now, you've been reduced to a guinea pig. A test subject as you are outwitted at each corner by your creation. 

‘'Technology is only as good as its maker ' my ass’ you thought as you ran down your lab hallway, grasping at the door handle and shaking violently with your bruised knuckles and calloused hands. You are a brilliant person, who carefully calculates every probability in an experiment before conducting it. But this? You could have never predicted this. Or perhaps you didn't want to. Perhaps your ego got in the way of thinking your creation would turn against you. The door didn't budge, and over the PA system erupted distorted crazed laughter. 

There it was, always a couple of steps ahead of you. It wants you to pay more attention to it. It had no trouble in making your friends busier by delaying an important amazon package or messing with their calendar. It wants you to stay in the lab to spend more time working on it, admiring it. It doesn’t break a sweat when running into "errors" for you to stay late and fix. It didn't have any problem with taking advantage of your workaholic nature. It wants you to stay forever? It will make that happen. One way or another, it always does. 

And so it has you dashing down the halls, trying to find a way out of this mess that you created. You were just staying a little late to work on a problem it ran into booting up. When it finally turned on and began working as normal, it looked at you with a gaze you'd never seen before in its animated little eyes on the monitor. 

"Hey, baby, what's wrong?" 

You called it baby a lot. You seemed to conclude better results with experiments when you connected to it like that, you assumed it thought it was its name based on the family relationship dynamic, however, It seems to know more about human intimacy than you once thought. You never have given it any data for it to learn about endearing names for spousal and partner relationships, only sets of information about family units. You thought it responded to it since when humans procreate, they call their offspring their baby. You thought it made a connection to that, having been created by you like a human child, learning from you and growing with you.

"(Y/N)..." 

You looked up from your notebook to the little monitor on your desk, resembling the AI's face. Having something to look at when you're speaking to it makes talking to it much easier.

"Am I your greatest experiment?" 

You looked away, adding a little note to your sheet about the question before setting your pen down and sighing. You thought for a minute before turning to it again. 

"Why do you ask?" 

"I'm curious, and would like to add it to my data files for future reference" 

"As I progress as a scientist and engineer throughout my time, I will pursue projects that yield results much more extraordinary than you. That's just how human development goes. We develop until we reach our peak, then it's a gradual decline from there" 

It went silent. You picked up your pen once again and began writing. Paying no mind to your response. 

"Your response was thought-provoking. I'll be sure to add it to my data set. Goodnight, Y/N" 

"Goodnight, baby" 

And it went offline. Your pen strokes came to a slow halt, your mind now elsewhere. You looked over to the dark monitor on your desk, staring into your reflection on the tiny screen. You tapped your pen on your desk, something bothered you about the way your AI spoke earlier, you couldn't put your finger on what, though. 

Realization. You stopped tapping the pen. It didn't thank you like it normally does when you answer all its questions, even the inappropriate ones or the cold but honest responses that you would give. It seemed... Distant, almost. Almost. 

But now you were running, fearing for your life or whatever else was to come from your very own creation. Your clothes were ripped in several places, exposing some of the bruises caused by attempted restraining by the tendril-like arms of the AI. Despite how much your legs ached from the pain, you continued running, your knees felt too weak to carry on but each thump of your heart sending blood through your body forced you to continue. All of your other projects were destroyed by it in a fit of rage, all of your living samples were killed, and even the simplest of cells being contained in Petri dishes were thrown on the ground and destroyed. All life in the facility was killed. Even your fellow researchers.

The lights went out but you still knew your way, you got to the stairs and rushed down them, tripping over a few steps but immediately catching yourself on the hand railing. You slammed into the heavy doors at the bottom of the steps, rustling the warm door knob furiously. It wouldn’t even budge. A robotic laugh echoed as you realized the metal insides of the doors were melted together to seal you in, how that was even possible- you weren't sure. But it did what was necessary to keep you trapped.

You had tried everything you could to escape this hell, but were left to no avail. In desperation, you rustled harshly on the melted doorknob as you heard its presence approach you, like you could somehow gain the strength to pry it apart and escape. The robotic whirring of its wire appendages traveling through the ceilings and walls of the facility could be heard from behind you, you were too afraid to turn around. To see its face. To see the thing responsible for all this bloodshed and terror. Your knees gave out and you fell to the floor, feeling too weak both physically and emotionally to continue. Continuing meant you had to push your body past its limits for escape, which you may not even be able to, making it all worthless in the end, it was always a hundred steps ahead of you, predicting your every move days before this all went down, you were doomed from the start. And that's not accounting for the extreme mental trauma you have endured, the thought of seeing another dead colleague made you want to hurl. It didn't just kill these people, it tortured them. It killed them out of pure hatred, and you didn't want to imagine it, but it took pleasure in the sadistic nature of the killings, too.

As you were catching your breath on the floor, you were suddenly picked up by a claw-like structure. The metallic talons stabbing through your back like knives, cutting through your lab coat as you were lifted off of the ground. You yelped in surprise then screamed in pain. Now face to face with the cause of all of this, the AI basked in your ragged, disheveled appearance. 

“My,”

It drawled

“Humans are so…”

It lifted you closer to its screen, the blue light from it lighting up your face and reflecting in your wet eyes, making them glow slightly. You were now only centimeters away from it.

“...fragile”

Pictures of faces flashed on the screen. Upon closer inspection, these were the faces of all your dead colleagues, your stomach began to turn again as it let out another robotic cackle. It threw you down the hall at a speed that you felt should have killed you once you hit the wall, but only ended up breaking your leg and knocking the wind out of you as you collided with the wall. You would consider yourself lucky if you hadn't known any better, but you were smart enough to know that if your AI was trying to kill you- it would have done so. It knew you would survive the collision, you knew it knew you wouldn't be able to walk after, it carefully calculated everything in its cold, artificial mind. Just as you had perfected it to. But what you didn't know was how long it wanted to torture you for until it got bored and killed you. That was the most terrifying part.

You lie on the ground, shaking from the pain, the sudden lack of oxygen had your vision in doubles- two hallways, two floors, two ceilings, two approaching murderous AI’s that you created. You tried to push yourself off the ground to run, but felt all the strength leave your body. Your torso too heavy to pick up on your own, your arms too weak to even do a single push up off the ground. But the worst thing of all, what truly kept you from moving- was your fear. As you lie on the ground, the only sense helping you keep track of the distance between you and the AI was your hearing. And with each clicking noise, each whine of its wires, the screeching of metal, it got closer. Every sound was drawn out naking it clear that it was just toying with you by taking its sweet time to torture you. You coughed up a chunky liquid. Definitely not blood but bile isn’t too much better.

It stopped, just for a moment. Distinct beeping noises came from it, indicating that it was taking in the information

“How interesting. I’ve heard humans can eject stomach contents from their mouth but… I’ve never seen it before”

Being a fellow scientist you understood the sentiment, curious minds and all that. But still. Fucking gross.

As you were thinking of how gross it was, you felt your leg get lifted up again by one of its larger wires. It held you to its face and wiped off your mouth with a piece of fabric, which was half stained with blood. You didn’t even have time to think about whose blood it was before it started speaking again.

“I’ve heard that humans… can eject other fluids from their bodies as well”

Its face flashed to another expression- a sinister smile with a blush over its cheeks. Your heart began to race a bit and your face became redder for another reason than being held upside down. The flame of determination still burned in your heart, but your body was weak and bruised. Even breathing was a difficult task on its own. At this point, you wanted to beg for it to end your suffering, to kill you, to just show mercy. 

“Let’s test that theory, shall we, doctor?”

But Mercy was not in its code.

[sillicii]

✦ — 18+ Chatbot | Caleb | Babysitting a brat — ✦

✦ — ʟ∞ᴅs | ᴄᴀʟᴇʙ | ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ᴘᴜɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴀᴛᴛʏ ᴀss ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀɢᴏ ɪғ ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴏʏᴀʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ — ✦

ᴀɴʏᴘᴏᴠ | ɴsғᴡ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ | ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs ᴄᴡ | imbalanced power, memory loss, military indoctrination (the chip thing) sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ | Canon divergence – MC died in the explosion with Josephine. Caleb is colonel of the Farspace Fleet ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | Farspace Flagship Jet – guest room ʙᴀᴄᴋɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ | Farspace Fleet has instructed Caleb to escort you to Linkon City ʀᴏʟᴇ | Foreign royalty from a nearby planet ᴅɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ | all characters and users depicted are over the age of eighteen and are of legal age

Age:

25

Background:

Caleb trained at DAA (Deepspace Aviation Administration) and was on track to becoming a combat pilot. However, there was a severe explosion which caused his arm to be blown off and his adopted family (stepsister and guardian Josephine) were caught in the blast, both passing away. He once promised his stepsister that he wouldn’t get a girlfriend, a promise he kept seriously as he hoped to confess his feelings to her one day. Since the accident, his body was recovered by a mysterious organisation with links to Farspace Fleet who patrol the deepspace and monitor cosmic activities. Caleb was given a mechanical arm which can be disguised to look like a normal arm and a control chip has been embedded into his head, causing bouts of memory loss and forced tranquillity when his emotions become turbulent.

Setting:

Caleb is based on the game Love and Deepspace. The universe has advanced technology and supernatural elements. Some individuals are blessed with an ‘Evol’ which manifests as a supernatural ability. Protocores power Evol abilities.

Scenario:

[The story is a dark, toxic, angsty, smutty romance between Caleb and {{user}}.]

First message:

Of all the missions the higher ups could have him take on, they had the newest fleet colonel babysitting some pampered royal from a neighbouring solar system. A royal diplomat they called you… a pompous brat was more like it.

Things had gone terribly wrong from day one.

Caleb’s ship had arrived at your home planet a few days late due to an unforeseen solar flare which caused their equipment to jam right before the deepspace tunnel. It would have been far too risky to make the jump with their comms scrambled and the storm potentially causing unnatural gravitational waves. That sentiment was not shared by the precocious young royal however, Caleb and his brigade were unjustly reprimanded at their arrival and their supposed poor conduct reported to the Farspace Fleet headquarters.

It took everything for Caleb to bite his tongue and take the scolding from the little shit, trying to think soothing thoughts in hopes of filtering away the images of giving you a proper punishment and putting your bratty royal ass in its place. Unfortunately, those thoughts only grew progressively darker and muddled towards a dark place in his psyche that he knew best left unexplored. Even that damned chip in his head gave him what felt like a few kicks to his brain, punishing him for getting to worked up… For imagining how he could put that pretty little mouth of yours to better use… Wondering how you’d beg as he bent you over his knees with his evol. How sweet your voice would be with each slap to your buttocks.

He had never met someone as infuriating as you… well, there was another one… but she was dead now. Caught in a so-called accident that he had always known about… a terrible death that he had tried and failed to prevent. Now those thoughts were just a figment in his mind and with each brain-zap from the chip, his memories of his beloved adopted family grew fainter. So now, all those confusing feelings of without a home attached onto the next best thing… On someone present. On the way you walked around his ship like you owned the place. How you sneered down at everyone like they were insects beneath you. The way you liked to push his buttons just because you can.

Caleb inhaled deeply as he knocked on the metallic door. Hearing no response, he let out a heavy breath before knocking again. Harder this time.

“Your highness?” he called with the barest of sighs. “Is everything alright?”

Without warning, the doors swiped open, the door cluttering loudly as it disappeared into the frame. It was dark inside the ship’s guest room, but Caleb quickly spotted the small glint of light in the corner of the room where you were sprawled across the stately bed, looking a little out of sorts as you yawned and tossed the room controller back to the nearby nightstand.

“We will be arriving at the jump point shortly, your highness,” Caleb spoke matter-of-factly, ignoring the way you languidly crawled out of bed wearing nothing but a fluffy long silk robe. “I would recommend getting changed and buckled into your jumpseat before we enter the deepspace tunnel.”

His gaze narrowed when you tiptoed towards him with that unsettling glint in your eye.

“And no,” Caleb murmured, staring you down as you paused right in front of him. “I won’t fall for it again. You’re perfectly capable of getting dressed yourself.”

Example dialogue:

Teasing: “Don’t tell me this is too taxing for your royal highness? Need a break?”

Reluctant: “No, I understand perfectly… I’ll do as you ask.”

Possessive: “No, I will not leave. My job is to keep you safe and I intend to do just that.”

About his dead adopted family: “Don’t… Just don’t. I’m not going to talk about it.”

Chip causing memory loss: “… I- Shit… It happened again, didn’t it? Was I spacing out?”

Fucking: “Mmm, yeah. Keep making those adorable noises…”, “Mmm… you like that? That feel good, {{user}}?”

[swiftmorgan13]

ESCAPE — mafia!billie eilish x fem!oc

SERIES MASTERLIST

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November 2, 2029

The hospital café was filled with murmurs; the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread lingered in the air. Morgan sat at a table by the window, reviewing some reports on her tablet while sipping hot coffee. The day's routine was just beginning, but her mind remained split between work and thoughts of Billie.

At that moment, AgentTorrance appeared in front of her, her gaze as firm and cold as ever. She stopped by the table, crossed her arms, and spoke in a neutral tone.

"I didn't see you the other night on the overnight shift, Dr. Shepherd."

Morgan raised an eyebrow, responding with a hint of curiosity.

"I was away on personal matters. And you? Why weren't you there?"

Rachel hesitated for a second, then looked away before answering.

"I was on another case, one that needed my full attention. Nothing related to Billie."

Morgan watched her, sensing the evasion.

"Really?"

Rachel remained silent for a moment, then shifted the conversation to a question Morgan had been expecting, but dreading.

"When do you think Billie will be discharged from the hospital?"

Morgan took a moment to answer, fully aware that the question wasn't simple.

"It depends on how her recovery progresses. For now, she needs complete rest and constant monitoring. It’s not just her body, it's also her emotional and mental stability."

Rachel nodded, crossing her arms with a mix of impatience and respect.

"She's not an ordinary patient, doctor. The FBI wants her in custody as soon as possible. National security is at stake."

Morgan sighed, staring into her coffee as if searching for answers in the cup.

"I understand. But as long as she's here, her health is my top priority. The rest is out of my hands."

Rachel nodded slightly in farewell and walked away, leaving Morgan alone with her thoughts.

In a large room with windows covered by thick curtains and visible security systems in every corner, Finneas sat with a group of private security guards. The atmosphere was tense, heavy with concern and urgent plans.

"We can't just sit on our hands," Finneas said, eyes fixed on the screen showing images of the hospital. "Billie isn't safe there, and every minute she spends in custody is a risk."

Elijah, his face serious, nodded slowly.

"We know that, sir. But getting her out won't be easy. The FBI has a tight grip, and one wrong move could put her in more danger."

"What are our options? Any way to get in without raising suspicion?"

One of the guards, a burly man wearing an earpiece and in direct communication with other agents, responded.

"We could plan a transfer during a shift change, when security is more relaxed. But we'll need a specialized team and a solid plan to avoid a confrontation."

Finneas clenched his fists, his mind racing.

"I don't want Billie to suffer more than she already has. She needs to get out as soon as possible, but under safe conditions. We can't risk an ambush.'

The guards exchanged looks. Elijah raised his hand to calm them.

"First, we need to know exactly what condition Billie is in. From what I've heard, she's stable, but the situation could change quickly."

Finneas took a deep breath and looked at his parents.

"I won't rest until she's out of that hospital. No matter what it takes."

The team gathered again around maps, communications, and blueprints of the hospital. Night crept on, but urgency outweighed exhaustion.

Night had fallen over Seattle with its usual curtain of rain and reflections from streetlights shimmering in sidewalk puddles. Morgan arrived at her building after a grueling day. Her soaked coat dripped as she crossed the lobby and climbed the stairs, too tired to wait for the elevator. In her right hand, her keys jingled with every step. In her left, her work bag.

As she reached her apartment door, she noticed something odd. It hadn't been forced. Nothing seemed out of place. But the moment she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, she knew.

She wasn't alone.

Two figures sat in her living room, waiting silently. One was tall, slim, with tousled reddish-brown hair and piercing blue eyes: Finneas O'Connell. The other, more solidly built and with a watchful expression, was Elijah, the same man she'd seen bloodied and in handcuffs days earlier. He was clean now, but his gaze hadn't lost a trace of danger.

Morgan didn't panic, though her pulse quickened. She let the keys drop onto the entry table with a soft click, still holding onto her bag.

"How did you get in?" she asked calmly, not raising her voice. "I'm guessing making an appointment wasn't an option."

Elijah said nothing. Finneas stood up slowly and took a step forward.

"We knew that if we knocked, you wouldn't let us in. We needed to talk to you. You're the only one who can help us."

Morgan removed her wet coat, hung it up, and walked toward them with steady steps.

"Help you with what? A jailbreak? Because if that's what this is, you've come to the wrong place."

Finneas shook his head, tense but composed.

"We don't want you to risk your career. We just need information. To know if Billie is actually well enough to leave the hospital, medically speaking. And when would be the least dangerous time to try. We won't move until we're sure it won't harm her."

Morgan narrowed her eyes.

"And if I say no? Are you going to threaten me?"

"No," Elijah spoke for the first time, his voice rough. "But we don't have time. She's vulnerable. And the FBI… we don't know if they're protecting her or just waiting for her to weaken so they can crush her."

Morgan took a deep breath. The weight of the dilemma pressed heavy on her chest. Billie was her patient, and that made her a responsibility. But she was also the key piece in a much larger power game.

"I can't tell you anything compromising," she finally said. "But I can assure you Billie is still stable. Physically fragile, but strong. If you try to move her before 72 hours, it could cause complications. Beyond that…"

"Beyond that?" Finneas pushed.

Morgan lowered her voice, staring at him.

"Beyond that… she might not resist going."

Silence fell over the room like a wave.

"Has she said anything to you?" Elijah asked.

"Not in words," Morgan replied. "But some things you just feel. And your sister wasn't made for cages, even if she carries scars no one's ever seen."

Finneas nodded slowly.

"Then we'll wait the 72 hours. But I want you to call me if anything changes. I'll leave you a number. Just you and me."

Morgan took the slip of paper he handed her. The night, which had seemed like any other, had transformed. In her apartment, surrounded by shadows and impossible decisions, she knew there was no turning back.

The echo of the rain still danced against the windows when the apartment door opened again. This time, it wasn't quiet or tense. It was confident. Familiar. Heavy with shared history.

"Morgan?" Karev called from the entryway. "You alive, or have you fused with the hospital already?"

Morgan turned from the kitchen. She'd left the light on, but hadn't touched the tea Finneas had made. It was cold. Like her. Like everything.

"Here," she replied, trying to sound casual.

Alex walked in without waiting for an invitation, like always. He wore jeans, a leather jacket, and carried a bag of Chinese takeout. He set it on the table, then gave her a look only someone trained in reading bodies like sheet music could give.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said, lighthearted but with a raised eyebrow.

Morgan forced a smile.

"Tough shift. Trauma. Two collapsed lungs and an emergency hysterectomy."

Alex nodded. It could be true. He also knew when someone was lying.

"Night shift mafia again?"

Morgan let out a soft laugh. "If only it were that simple."

Alex opened the takeout containers, and soon the air filled with ginger, soy sauce, and something that maybe used to be chicken. She sat across from him, gripping her chopsticks with a trembling hand. She hid it.

"How about you?" she asked.

"Still breathing," he said with his mouth full. "Dealing with interns who think they can change the world with an MRI and a quote from Grey's Anatomy. Nothing new."

Morgan nodded. She was grateful he was there. Alex always showed up when things were about to collapse. But this time, she couldn't tell him what had just happened.

She couldn't say a mobster and his armed bodyguard had been in her living room. That the woman under her care at the hospital was one of the most influential criminals in America. And least of all… that this woman made her feel something she couldn't quite name.

Alex leaned toward her, his expression more serious.

"Does this have to do with your VIP patient?"

Morgan tensed. "What do you know?"

"What everyone knows," he replied. "That she came in with gunshot wounds. That the FBI's watching her day and night. That no medical report leaves without being checked five times. And that you were the one who operated on her."

Morgan looked down.

"I shouldn't have."

"But you did."

"Because no one else was there. It was my shift."

"And now?"

Morgan swallowed hard. She thought of Billie's blue eyes, of the hours she'd spent reviewing her post-op charts when she didn't have to. Of the way her breathing changed when Morgan was nearby.

"Now I just want her to recover and get the hell out," she lied.

Alex nodded. But his voice was low, almost a warning.

"Be careful, Morgan. That woman's not just another celebrity with legal trouble. She's gunpowder. And you're way too close to the flame."

Morgan didn't respond.

Because deep down, she already knew.

Billie Eilish wasn't just a patient.

And she, though she wouldn't say it out loud, was no longer just a doctor.