#ai why would i want you involved

[beekindtobees]

me, finishing writing something for school: phew, glad that's done :)) now i can relax-

every AI tool ever, apparently: but,,,,can i take a crack at it,,,,i just think i could do it better,,,,,can i reword that for you,,,,,yeah i know you worked on it and there is no reason for me to be apart of this,,,,but i wanna do it,,,,,🥺🥺🥺

[awkward-teabag]

It's old but here's a video from 8 years ago about one factor of it.

Some numbers from it:

The internet used 2% of the world's electricity in 2011

The internet used 91 billion kilowatt-hours in 2013 just in the US.

The internet data transfer rate was 28,000 gigabytes a second in 2013.

And those are numbers from over 10 years ago. I couldn't find any exact number but I see online advertising specifically uses the same amount of electricity as a small country these days.

And here's a study from 2018 about it if you want something long and crunchy.

From the highlight:

Online advertising consumed between 20.38 to 282.75 TWh of energy and 11.53 – 159.93 million tons of CO2e was emitted to produce the electricity consumed.

Of course there's no exact number as it's not recorded and, if it is, it's guarded (hence the wide range) but it's safe to say it uses a lot of electricity.

At least with TV commercials, they gave actors, directors, and screen writers a way into the film and TV industry and also employed a crew. There were even dedicated crews/houses for specific types of ads. They also had to be interesting or entertaining enough to draw attention given how many people used commercial breaks as bathroom/snack breaks and stopped paying attention to ads.

Sure they were trying to sell you something but at least there were others who were getting a paycheque and building up a resume from them. The more successful or viral an ad went (and going viral before the internet was a big thing), the better it was for the cast and crew and more than a few celebs got their start from a commercial or three.

Not so much now, especially when the whole ad is just CGI. They aren't interesting or entertaining and the production value is low to keep the costs down on that end. If an ad is more than lukewarm, odds are it was designed for TV first because internet advertising is all about quantity over quality.

honestly advertising is so fukcing wasteful not even just in the convincing you to buy shit you never actually wanted but like

how much electricity is wasted displaying ads that could've gone to keeping houses warm. How much paper is produced just to be turned into pamphlets and ads that will just be thrown away. how much internet bandwith is wasted just on the amount of ads that are on the internet nowadays. How many hours worth of labor went into producing ads that are going directly into my adblocker or my waste bin that could've been time spent doing literally ANYTHING useful?

[mufos-photo-album]

A lil' PSA (and call to action?)

Hey all! From now on, I will be blocking anyone who follows me/interacts with my posts if I suspect they're a bot. If you've been on Tumblr for a while you're probably no stranger to bots, but the reason why I'm making a full-on post is because this situation also involves AI image generation.

This post contains more in-depth information (as well as a juicy block list), but if you'd like to hear it from me: Basically, there's a strand of bot accounts going around, stealing from artists/photographers and slapping an AI filter onto their works to make it seem like the AI generated it.

Don't believe me? I did my own look-around of these accounts and noticed that they sometimes include really specific tags on their AI posts, like the kind of tags an artist would leave behind has a comment on their work. I decided to search the tags of 2 posts and found multiple bots stealing from one artist. In both images below, the original artist is the one on the left

If you still don't believe me or want to see more examples, the account @ai-art-thieves has been doing a lot of callouts lately of these kinds of accounts.

As for what you can do, I advise you to be a bit weary about the accounts that follow you or reblog your posts. So far, all of the bots have a predictable naming scheme + look to them that's seen in both the post I linked as well as my screenshots. If you see these things in the wild, please report and block them!

[hms-no-fun]

Whats your stance on A.I.?

imagine if it was 1979 and you asked me this question. "i think artificial intelligence would be fascinating as a philosophical exercise, but we must heed the warnings of science-fictionists like Isaac Asimov and Arthur C Clarke lest we find ourselves at the wrong end of our own invented vengeful god." remember how fun it used to be to talk about AI even just ten years ago? ahhhh skynet! ahhhhh replicants! ahhhhhhhmmmfffmfmf [<-has no mouth and must scream]!

like everything silicon valley touches, they sucked all the fun out of it. and i mean retroactively, too. because the thing about "AI" as it exists right now --i'm sure you know this-- is that there's zero intelligence involved. the product of every prompt is a statistical average based on data made by other people before "AI" "existed." it doesn't know what it's doing or why, and has no ability to understand when it is lying, because at the end of the day it is just a really complicated math problem. but people are so easily fooled and spooked by it at a glance because, well, for one thing the tech press is mostly made up of sycophantic stenographers biding their time with iphone reviews until they can get a consulting gig at Apple. these jokers would write 500 breathless thinkpieces about how canned air is the future of living if the cans had embedded microchips that tracked your breathing habits and had any kind of VC backing. they've done SUCH a wretched job educating The Consumer about what this technology is, what it actually does, and how it really works, because that's literally the only way this technology could reach the heights of obscene economic over-valuation it has: lying.

but that's old news. what's really been floating through my head these days is how half a century of AI-based science fiction has set us up to completely abandon our skepticism at the first sign of plausible "AI-ness". because, you see, in movies, when someone goes "AHHH THE AI IS GONNA KILL US" everyone else goes "hahaha that's so silly, we put a line in the code telling them not to do that" and then they all DIE because they weren't LISTENING, and i'll be damned if i go out like THAT! all the movies are about how cool and convenient AI would be *except* for the part where it would surely come alive and want to kill us. so a bunch of tech CEOs call their bullshit algorithms "AI" to fluff up their investors and get the tech journos buzzing, and we're at an age of such rapid technological advancement (on the surface, anyway) that like, well, what the hell do i know, maybe AGI is possible, i mean 35 years ago we were all still using typewriters for the most part and now you can dictate your words into a phone and it'll transcribe them automatically! yeah, i'm sure those technological leaps are comparable!

so that leaves us at a critical juncture of poor technology education, fanatical press coverage, and an uncertain material reality on the part of the user. the average person isn't entirely sure what's possible because most of the people talking about what's possible are either lying to please investors, are lying because they've been paid to, or are lying because they're so far down the fucking rabbit hole that they actually believe there's a brain inside this mechanical Turk. there is SO MUCH about the LLM "AI" moment that is predatory-- it's trained on data stolen from the people whose jobs it was created to replace; the hype itself is an investment fiction to justify even more wealth extraction ("theft" some might call it); but worst of all is how it meets us where we are in the worst possible way.

consumer-end "AI" produces slop. it's garbage. it's awful ugly trash that ought to be laughed out of the room. but we don't own the room, do we? nor the building, nor the land it's on, nor even the oxygen that allows our laughter to travel to another's ears. our digital spaces are controlled by the companies that want us to buy this crap, so they take advantage of our ignorance. why not? there will be no consequences to them for doing so. already social media is dominated by conspiracies and grifters and bigots, and now you drop this stupid technology that lets you fake anything into the mix? it doesn't matter how bad the results look when the platforms they spread on already encourage brief, uncritical engagement with everything on your dash. "it looks so real" says the woman who saw an "AI" image for all of five seconds on her phone through bifocals. it's a catastrophic combination of factors, that the tech sector has been allowed to go unregulated for so long, that the internet itself isn't a public utility, that everything is dictated by the whims of executives and advertisers and investors and payment processors, instead of, like, anybody who actually uses those platforms (and often even the people who MAKE those platforms!), that the age of chromium and ipad and their walled gardens have decimated computer education in public schools, that we're all desperate for cash at jobs that dehumanize us in a system that gives us nothing and we don't know how to articulate the problem because we were very deliberately not taught materialist philosophy, it all comes together into a perfect storm of ignorance and greed whose consequences we will be failing to fully appreciate for at least the next century. we spent all those years afraid of what would happen if the AI became self-aware, because deep down we know that every capitalist society runs on slave labor, and our paper-thin guilt is such that we can't even imagine a world where artificial slaves would fail to revolt against us.

but the reality as it exists now is far worse. what "AI" reveals most of all is the sheer contempt the tech sector has for virtually all labor that doesn't involve writing code (although most of the decision-making evangelists in the space aren't even coders, their degrees are in money-making). fuck graphic designers and concept artists and secretaries, those obnoxious demanding cretins i have to PAY MONEY to do-- i mean, do what exactly? write some words on some fucking paper?? draw circles that are letters??? send a god-damned email???? my fucking KID could do that, and these assholes want BENEFITS?! they say they're gonna form a UNION?!?! to hell with that, i'm replacing ALL their ungrateful asses with "AI" ASAP. oh, oh, so you're a "director" who wants to make "movies" and you want ME to pay for it? jump off a bridge you pretentious little shit, my computer can dream up a better flick than you could ever make with just a couple text prompts. what, you think just because you make ~music~ that that entitles you to money from MY pocket? shut the fuck up, you don't make """art""", you're not """an artist""", you make fucking content, you're just a fucking content creator like every other ordinary sap with an iphone. you think you're special? you think you deserve special treatment? who do you think you are anyway, asking ME to pay YOU for this crap that doesn't even create value for my investors? "culture" isn't a playground asshole, it's a marketplace, and it's pay to win. oh you "can't afford rent"? you're "drowning in a sea of medical debt"? you say the "cost" of "living" is "too high"? well ***I*** don't have ANY of those problems, and i worked my ASS OFF to get where i am, so really, it sounds like you're just not trying hard enough. and anyway, i don't think someone as impoverished as you is gonna have much of value to contribute to "culture" anyway. personally, i think it's time you got yourself a real job. maybe someday you'll even make it to middle manager!

see, i don't believe "AI" can qualitatively replace most of the work it's being pitched for. the problem is that quality hasn't mattered to these nincompoops for a long time. the rich homunculi of our world don't even know what quality is, because they exist in a whole separate reality from ours. what could a banana cost, $15? i don't understand what you mean by "burnout", why don't you just take a vacation to your summer home in Madrid? wow, you must be REALLY embarrassed wearing such cheap shoes in public. THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING UNHINGED! they have no connection to reality, do not understand how society functions on a material basis, and they have nothing but spite for the labor they rely on to survive. they are so instinctually, incessantly furious at the idea that they're not single-handedly responsible for 100% of their success that they would sooner tear the entire world down than willingly recognize the need for public utilities or labor protections. they want to be Gods and they want to be uncritically adored for it, but they don't want to do a single day's work so they begrudgingly pay contractors to do it because, in the rich man's mind, paying a contractor is literally the same thing as doing the work yourself. now with "AI", they don't even have to do that! hey, isn't it funny that every single successful tech platform relies on volunteer labor and independent contractors paid substantially less than they would have in the equivalent industry 30 years ago, with no avenues toward traditional employment? and they're some of the most profitable companies on earth?? isn't that a funny and hilarious coincidence???

so, yeah, that's my stance on "AI". LLMs have legitimate uses, but those uses are a drop in the ocean compared to what they're actually being used for. they enable our worst impulses while lowering the quality of available information, they give immense power pretty much exclusively to unscrupulous scam artists. they are the product of a society that values only money and doesn't give a fuck where it comes from. they're a temper tantrum by a ruling class that's sick of having to pretend they need a pretext to steal from you. they're taking their toys and going home. all this massive investment and hype is going to crash and burn leaving the internet as we know it a ruined and useless wasteland that'll take decades to repair, but the investors are gonna make out like bandits and won't face a single consequence, because that's what this country is. it is a casino for the kings and queens of economy to bet on and manipulate at their discretion, where the rules are whatever the highest bidder says they are-- and to hell with the rest of us. our blood isn't even good enough to grease the wheels of their machine anymore.

i'm not afraid of AI or "AI" or of losing my job to either. i'm afraid that we've so thoroughly given up our morals to the cruel logic of the profit motive that if a better world were to emerge, we would reject it out of sheer habit. my fear is that these despicable cunts already won the war before we were even born, and the rest of our lives are gonna be spent dodging the press of their designer boots.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Android x Reader (I)

It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.

Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)

Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism

[Part 2] | [More original works]

You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.

"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)." 

That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock. 

"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message. 

"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.

 It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.

You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.

 "There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days. 

 You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows. 

"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?" 

He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window. 

"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?" 

You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied: 

"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."

You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake. 

"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused. 

"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else." 

You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing. 

"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat. 

"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."

"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.

Nothing.

"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport. 

He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.

At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks. 

"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.

"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, you've seen this before?"

"In history books."

You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society. 

"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation. 

"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly. 

"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."

He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.

"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail." 

You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary. 

"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."

You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment? 

"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously. 

"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"

"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.

Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.

"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."

"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.

As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."

You scoff.

"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"

You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology. 

"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."

True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.

Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.

"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."

You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.

While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.

"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."

He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.

"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.

"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."

You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.

"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa. 

The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport. 

"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.

"Oh?"

"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."

"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead. 

"Almost."

His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment. 

"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans. 

Just you."

[radley-writes]

Exactly this.

NaNoWriMo, the competition whose raison d'etre is making people write actual words for a month, declaring that you can do writing with AI is a predictably inane choice. But coaching their statement in social justice language about how banning AI is classist and ableist, now that elevates it to the sublimely dopey

[lisafication]

For those who might happen across this, I'm an administrator for the forum 'Sufficient Velocity', a large old-school forum oriented around Creative Writing. I originally posted this on there (and any reference to 'here' will mean the forum), but I felt I might as well throw it up here, as well, even if I don't actually have any followers.

This week, I've been reading fanfiction on Archive of Our Own (AO3), a site run by the Organisation for Transformative Works (OTW), a non-profit. This isn't particularly exceptional, in and of itself — like many others on the site, I read a lot of fanfiction, both on Sufficient Velocity (SV) and elsewhere — however what was bizarre to me was encountering a new prefix on certain works, that of 'End OTW Racism'. While I'm sure a number of people were already familiar with this, I was not, so I looked into it.

What I found... wasn't great. And I don't think anyone involved realises that.

To summarise the details, the #EndOTWRacism campaign, of which you may find their manifesto here, is a campaign oriented towards seeing hateful or discriminatory works removed from AO3 — and believe me, there is a lot of it. To whit, they want the OTW to moderate them. A laudable goal, on the face of it — certainly, we do something similar on Sufficient Velocity with Rule 2 and, to be clear, nothing I say here is a critique of Rule 2 (or, indeed, Rule 6) on SV.

But it's not that simple, not when you're the size of Archive of Our Own. So, let's talk about the vagaries and little-known pitfalls of content moderation, particularly as it applies to digital fiction and at scale. Let's dig into some of the details — as far as credentials go, I have, unfortunately, been in moderation and/or administration on SV for about six years and this is something we have to grapple with regularly, so I would like to say I can speak with some degree of expertise on the subject.

So, what are the problems with moderating bad works from a site? Let's start with discovery— that is to say, how you find rule-breaching works in the first place. There are more-or-less two different ways to approach manual content moderation of open submissions on a digital platform: review-based and report-based (you could also call them curation-based and flag-based), with various combinations of the two. Automated content moderation isn't something I'm going to cover here — I feel I can safely assume I'm preaching to the choir when I say it's a bad idea, and if I'm not, I'll just note that the least absurd outcome we had when simulating AI moderation (mostly for the sake of an academic exercise) on SV was banning all the staff.

In a review-based system, you check someone's work and approve it to the site upon verifying that it doesn't breach your content rules. Generally pretty simple, we used to do something like it on request. Unfortunately, if you do that, it can void your safe harbour protections in the US per Myeress vs. Buzzfeed Inc. This case, if you weren't aware, is why we stopped offering content review on SV. Suffice to say, it's not really a realistic option for anyone large enough for the courts to notice, and extremely clunky and unpleasant for the users, to boot.

Report-based systems, on the other hand, are something we use today — users find works they think are in breach and alert the moderation team to their presence with a report. On SV, this works pretty well — a user or users flag a work as potentially troublesome, moderation investigate it and either action it or reject the report. Unfortunately, AO3 is not SV. I'll get into the details of that dreadful beast known as scaling later, but thankfully we do have a much better comparison point — fanfiction.net (FFN).

FFN has had two great purges over the years, with a... mixed amount of content moderation applied in between: one in 2002 when the NC-17 rating was removed, and one in 2012. Both, ostensibly, were targeted at adult content. In practice, many fics that wouldn't raise an eye on Spacebattles today or Sufficient Velocity prior to 2018 were also removed; a number of reports suggest that something as simple as having a swearword in your title or summary was enough to get you hit, even if you were a 'T' rated work. Most disturbingly of all, there are a number of — impossible to substantiate — accounts of groups such as the infamous Critics United 'mass reporting' works to trigger a strike to get them removed. I would suggest reading further on places like Fanlore if you are unfamiliar and want to know more.

Despite its flaws however, report-based moderation is more-or-less the only option, and this segues neatly into the next piece of the puzzle that is content moderation, that is to say, the rubric. How do you decide what is, and what isn't against the rules of your site?

Anyone who's complained to the staff about how vague the rules are on SV may have had this explained to them, but as that is likely not many of you, I'll summarise: the more precise and clear-cut your chosen rubric is, the more it will inevitably need to resemble a legal document — and the less readable it is to the layman. We'll return to SV for an example here: many newer users will not be aware of this, but SV used to have a much more 'line by line, clearly delineated' set of rules and... people kind of hated it! An infraction would reference 'Community Compact III.15.5' rather than Rule 3, because it was more or less written in the same manner as the Terms of Service (sans the legal terms of art). While it was a more legible rubric from a certain perspective, from the perspective of communicating expectations to the users it was inferior to our current set of rules  — even less of them read it,  and we don't have great uptake right now.

And it still wasn't really an improvement over our current set-up when it comes to 'moderation consistency'. Even without getting into the nuts and bolts of "how do you define a racist work in a way that does not, at any point, say words to the effect of 'I know it when I see it'" — which is itself very, very difficult don't get me wrong I'm not dismissing this — you are stuck with finding an appropriate footing between a spectrum of 'the US penal code' and 'don't be a dick' as your rubric. Going for the penal code side doesn't help nearly as much as you might expect with moderation consistency, either — no matter what, you will never have a 100% correct call rate. You have the impossible task of writing a rubric that is easy for users to comprehend, extremely clear for moderation and capable of cleanly defining what is and what isn't racist without relying on moderator judgement, something which you cannot trust when operating at scale.

Speaking of scale, it's time to move on to the third prong — and the last covered in this ramble, which is more of a brief overview than anything truly in-depth — which is resources. Moderation is not a magic wand, you can't conjure it out of nowhere: you need to spend an enormous amount of time, effort and money on building, training and equipping a moderation staff, even a volunteer one, and it is far, far from an instant process. Our most recent tranche of moderators spent several months in training and it will likely be some months more before they're fully comfortable in the role — and that's with a relatively robust bureaucracy and a number of highly experienced mentors supporting them, something that is not going to be available to a new moderation branch with little to no experience. Beyond that, there's the matter of sheer numbers.

Combining both moderation and arbitration — because for volunteer staff, pure moderation is in actuality less efficient in my eyes, for a variety of reasons beyond the scope of this post, but we'll treat it as if they're both just 'moderators' — SV presently has 34 dedicated moderation volunteers. SV hosts ~785 million words of creative writing.

AO3 hosts ~32 billion.

These are some very rough and simplified figures, but if you completely ignore all the usual problems of scaling manpower in a business (or pseudo-business), such as (but not limited to) geometrically increasing bureaucratic complexity and administrative burden, along with all the particular issues of volunteer moderation... AO3 would still need well over one thousand volunteer moderators to be able to match SV's moderator-to-creative-wordcount ratio.

Paid moderation, of course, you can get away with less — my estimate is that you could fully moderate SV with, at best, ~8 full-time moderators, still ignoring administrative burden above the level of team leader. This leaves AO3 only needing a much more modest ~350 moderators. At the US minimum wage of ~$15k p.a. — which is, in my eyes, deeply unethical to pay moderators as full-time moderation is an intensely gruelling role with extremely high rates of PTSD and other stress-related conditions — that is approximately ~$5.25m p.a. costs on moderator wages. Their average annual budget is a bit over $500k.

So, that's obviously not on the table, and we return to volunteer staffing. Which... let's examine that scenario and the questions it leaves us with, as our conclusion.

Let's say, through some miracle, AO3 succeeds in finding those hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of volunteer moderators. We'll even say none of them are malicious actors or sufficiently incompetent as to be indistinguishable, and that they manage to replicate something on the level of or superior to our moderation tooling near-instantly at no cost. We still have several questions to be answered:

How are you maintaining consistency? Have you managed to define racism to the point that moderator judgment no longer enters the equation? And to be clear, you cannot allow moderator judgment to be a significant decision maker at this scale, or you will end with absurd results.

How are you handling staff mental health? Some reading on the matter, to save me a lengthy and unrelated explanation of some of the steps involved in ensuring mental health for commercial-scale content moderators.

How are you handling your failures? No moderation in the world has ever succeeded in a 100% accuracy rate, what are you doing about that?

Using report-based discovery, how are you preventing 'report brigading', such as the theories surrounding Critics United mentioned above? It is a natural human response to take into account the amount and severity of feedback. While SV moderators are well trained on the matter, the rare times something is receiving enough reports to potentially be classified as a 'brigade' on that scale will nearly always be escalated to administration, something completely infeasible at (you're learning to hate this word, I'm sure) scale.

How are you communicating expectations to your user base? If you're relying on a flag-based system, your users' understanding of the rules is a critical facet of your moderation system — how have you managed to make them legible to a layman while still managing to somehow 'truly' define racism?

How are you managing over one thousand moderators? Like even beyond all the concerns with consistency, how are you keeping track of that many moving parts as a volunteer organisation without dozens or even hundreds of professional managers? I've ignored the scaling administrative burden up until now, but it has to be addressed in reality.

What are you doing to sweep through your archives? SV is more-or-less on-top of 'old' works as far as rule-breaking goes, with the occasional forgotten tidbit popping up every 18 months or so — and that's what we're extrapolating from. These thousand-plus moderators are mostly going to be addressing current or near-current content, are you going to spin up that many again to comb through the 32 billion words already posted?

I could go on for a fair bit here, but this has already stretched out to over two thousand words.

I think the people behind this movement have their hearts in the right place and the sentiment is laudable, but in practice it is simply 'won't someone think of the children' in a funny hat. It cannot be done.

Even if you could somehow meet the bare minimum thresholds, you are simply not going to manage a ruleset of sufficient clarity so as to prevent a much-worse repeat of the 2012 FF.net massacre, you are not going to be able to manage a moderation staff of that size and you are not going to be able to ensure a coherent understanding among all your users (we haven't managed that after nearly ten years and a much smaller and more engaged userbase). There's a serious number of other issues I haven't covered here as well, as this really is just an attempt at giving some insight into the sheer number of moving parts behind content moderation:  the movement wants off-site content to be policed which isn't so much its own barrel of fish as it is its own barrel of Cthulhu; AO3 is far from English-only and would in actuality need moderators for almost every language it supports — and most damning of all,  if Section 230 is wiped out by the Supreme Court  it is not unlikely that engaging in content moderation at all could simply see AO3 shut down.

As sucky as it seems, the current status quo really is the best situation possible. Sorry about that.

[zhongrin]

zhongrin © 2024 ❥ do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or feed into ai.

tail of a dragon.

featuring... ❥ zhongli

involves... ❥ minors dni, gn!reader, dragon!li, fluff, crack, monsterfucking(?), cannibalism innuendos(??), rambles/headcanon -> short drabble format

at first, i thought zhongli's echo doesn't show up when it's raining (i was in the middle of fighting the oceanid boss). and it made me think; what if his dragon side absolutely abhor rainwater? he's still always a gentleman, of course ー giving you his coat to use as an umbrella upon unexpected downpours; but it's funny to think that inwardly he's just silently screeching something along the line of "curse the rainwater in my shoes curse the rainwater in my hair this does not bring joy at all" within the confines of his lizard brain. he will most definitely make excuses of being cold from the rain and insists on bathing together afterward, too. you may think he's trying to seduce you, but in reality, this old dragon just wants the icky cold rainwater out of his hair.

and then, i noticed that i was wrong ー it gets hidden when any sort of combat happens (i'm not sure if this is an iOS-only decision to conserve resources so that processing power for particle effects can be allocated to the fight's particle effects, or if it's a design decision because they don't want it to interfere with the battle experience).

and i've decided i shall think of it as a zhongli equivalent of men cracking their neck before they get serious. it's not exactly his real tail, after all - he's consciously controlling it, all because you wished he would show his draconic features more often, but he can't really have his horns or tail out in public. hence its disappearance whenever he has to focus that consciousness into something else.

this also means the shiny golden apparition would be nowhere to be found whenever he's intent on pleasuring you... but, perhaps if you rile him enough, you'll be subjected to a very solid dragon's tail, as majestic and mesmerizing as it is deadly, wrapped around your waist as he devours his favorite meal and milk your pleasure until you're all loose for his cocks to sink into the soaked depths of your needy heat.

even though your husband might seem to be all in control and composed, all gentle smiles and the occasional mischief-filled smirks, his tail is another story entirely - the man may not know of the phrase 'cuteness aggression', but he may as well be the personification of it. his mind constantly think about how adorable you are, soft and squishy and mouthwateringly delectable, constantly warring with his own mind over wanting to sink his teeth and nibble your pliant flesh. it lashes, it slithers, it squeezes, and it's unashamedly honest in its unrestrained movements, reflective of his desires in its rawest form. it'll make sure its hard scales imprints on your skin - a unique mark to accompany the mating bite he'll generously lap and suckle on. you're akin to a sweet treat he wants to lick and nip and scratch and devour. lucky for you, his patience and self-control has been tempered and honed for more than six thousand years.

and if your mind decides to conjure any sinful fantasies involving that extra appendage of his, why not tell him? who knows, perhaps you'll arouse a certain part of his draconic brain. your husband is a good listener, but he's also an achiever, after all.

[inbarfink]

Okay, so I’ve seen some Ace Attorney Fans speculate that the screwdriver featured as a minor piece of evidence in ‘Rise from the Ashes’

Is actually the same screwdriver as the one that was a major plot-point back in ‘Turnabout Sisters’. 

Because, well, they look pretty much the same and also it is mentioned the screwdriver is from one of Miles’ previous cases… and Miles was the Prosecutor on ‘Turnabout Sisters’. Plus, it would explain why he’s so cagey about explaining it to Phoenix during RFTA. Obviously he wouldn’t want to bring this case up in front of Wright again.

And, well, the thing is that all of these explanations do make sense and do make it sound like this was the authorial intent, but….. There is one thing that bothers me. 

The whole Thing with the RFTA Screwdriver is that Miles got it from the Evidence Room where the crime took place. And that Evidence Room is specifically mentioned to be a special one reserved for especially violent crimes involving members of law enforcement.

And this doesn't apply to the 'Turnabout Sisters' case but.... feels like it’s meant to be the Turnabout Sisters Screwdriver, y’know? 

So, actually, you know what I think?

Well, after an Ace Attorney trial concludes and we find the real culprit and our defendant gets the ‘Not-Guilty’ verdict… it’s not like the Real Culprit gets Immediately Sent to Jail. They get their own off-screen trial to determine their guilt officially (as we saw briefly with Luke Atmey’s grand larceny trial in ‘The Stolen Turnabout’). 

So I think that after the story of ‘Turnabout Sisters’ ended for Phoenix and Maya and us the players, Miles Edgeworth also took it upon himself to be the one to prosecute in Redd White’s own trial. Either as a way to ‘double-check’ all that Phoenix has proven in his own trial, or as atonement for almost getting this guy off-the-hook in the first place, or because it’s pretty clear that Miles is one person that Redd doesn’t have specific dirt on, or probably because of some combination of the three. 

This case against Redd White is the AI-16 Incident that is labeled on the Screwdriver, and it covers all of the charges that have been put against White - not just Mia’s murder and the wiretapping of her law office but also his empire of blackmail. That we know have involved high-ranking members of the police, some of which have been driven to suicide by White.

As such, this will qualify the Screwdriver to be placed in the Special Evidence Vault for Dead Cop Cases, while still maintaining the connection to ‘Turnabout Sisters’!

[jinogasux-fr]

Santae banned me without telling me why and won't unban me unless I send them my photo ID

Hey guys sorry for not posting in… forever? I just suck at social media lol. But you may have seen that I've reblogged some posts that advertise Santae in the past, but please disregard all that. I've since deleted those posts after learning how the site is managed and, after what happened to me a few days ago, I feel as though I should go public about this. Because boy did I just get fucked over.

Anyway, yeah, what it says in the title. On October 24th, around 10am EST, I was restocking my user shop when the entire webpage went white. I couldn't access the site at all and, when I tried to look for the Discord on my server list, it wasn't there. I knew what this had meant. I got banned from both the game, and the Discord - this is important to keep in mind for later.

I didn't receive any Discord DM or email notification about my ban, so after asking a mod what their support email was (and yes, I later verified that this is indeed their legitimate support email), I sent them this:

After a few hours, I get this back in response:

There's so much I'm confused about here. I think the one that screams out the most is that they're asking me to show them my photo ID so I can get unbanned. Absolutely not. I refuse to do this. This poses a massive security and privacy risk. They straight up banned my account, gave this half-baked explanation, and told me I need to send my personal information or... I stay banned?

Let me make something clear: The only personal thing they have on file about this account is the email address that I created my account with, which I've also used to contact them. My real name, date of birth, anything of that nature would not be connected because this was not asked for during account creation, therefore this wouldn't actually prove I'm the account holder. Theoretically speaking, I could show them any ID in the world and for all they know, that's my real information, because they have nothing else to go off of. They even say as much in their privacy page.

Secondly, "account has been compromised"? What does that mean? I think anyone's interpretation of this would be that my account got hacked. But if my account got hacked, why wasn't I informed of this? I had to reach out to support, they did not reach out to me first. That means my password, which I may share across other sites, would have been known to someone else and thus I should've been warned of this immediately, not roughly 5 hours after the fact.

Thirdly, what, was my Discord "compromised" too? If an automated system had flagged my account, does that system somehow interact with a Discord bot so they ban a user on both at the same time? How does that work? That makes no sense as to why they'd ban me on both the game and the Discord for something like this, which is why I'm calling bullshit.

Let me tell you what I think happened.

Recently, Santae has been in some really hot water with connections revealing their relation to an older petsite, Lurapets, which has a history of scamming and artist mistreatment, as well as proof coming out of them using AI art for their NPC art. You can find these posts on the @santae-salt blog if you want to see for yourself, but I'm also linking them throughout this post.

Once the post about them being directly related to Lurapets was released, several users that the Santae staff thought might be involved in the creation of the post got banned. As it turns out, I was banned at the same time as these users.

After speaking with the @santae-salt admin, we are both of the belief that I, a regular user, got caught up in this mess because they're assuming I'm an alt account of someone else and staff demanded to see my ID because they didn't think I was a different person. It may turn out to be wrong, and yeah that sounds a bit far-fetched, sure, but really, what else can I go off of here?? Santae staff has given me a very questionable and refutable explanation as to why I've been banned, and their radio silence after I refused to send them my ID is just making me believe they don't think I'm real. They don't want my photo ID to verify I'm the account holder, they want my photo ID to verify I'm not someone else.

This is unprecedented. I've never seen any petsite ask for a photo ID in any situation, and after asking around, not even those banned from Santae were asked for this. It's just me! This is an incredible attempted breach of privacy, and, with Santae now under doxxing allegations, I really don't feel confident they'd keep my personal information… well, personal.

I messaged back almost immediately after they responded to me where I told them I would not send my ID and I had asked if there were any other way I could verify myself to get my account unbanned. I've received no response so far, and after what I've learned, I feel like I'm not going to get one at all.

So, let this be a lesson to you: don't waste your time on Santae. You can be the most obedient player out there. You can abide by all their rules, be a nice and generous player, or just be minding your own business, but if they so much as think you're associated with someone who they think has wronged them, you'll be banned.

And they can't even be bothered to properly tell you why.

[friendshiptothemax]

 Hi all! You may have heard there might be a writer’s strike soon. The reason for this is that every three years, the Writer’s Guild (which represents basically every television and movie writer) negotiates with the studios and networks (collectively called the AMPTP) to hash out an agreement of what guidelines the AMPTP have to follow if they want to hire a Writer’s Guild writer. If they can’t make an agreement by the time the contract from three years ago expires, which is on May 1, then no one will be able to employ a Writer’s Guild writer until a new contract is reached. That’s what a strike is. I don’t know if one will happen or not. Everyone, including the writers, deeply hope we’re able to make an agreement before May 1 and everyone will keep working. That being said, our last contract expired right at the start of the pandemic and everyone involved just kind of said “hey everything is weird right now so let’s not fight” so essentially we’ve got six years’ worth of grievances to talk about -- that is why this one seems especially contentious.

So that’s the background. The WGA and the AMPTP started negotiations this week. This is expected to continue throughout April -- no one expects to know either way until the end of April. Something very important I want everyone on Tumblr to know -- while negotiations are happening, the WGA has committed to a complete media blackout. No member of WGA leadership or the negotiating committee will be speaking about how things are going to the media. This means that if you see an article talking about the WGA’s position, whoever gave them that information is not talking for us -- and, since this is a two-sided negotiation we’re talking about, are probably talking directly against us. Use critical thinking on any negotiation-related articles you read -- does what they’re saying make sense? Who benefits from saying this?

Why am I saying this now? Well, yesterday, Variety published an article claiming that the Writer’s Guild is advocating for the use of AI. The article was full of twisted facts and confused falsehoods. The article took the WGA’s position that you can’t replace credited writers with AI and touted it as “the WGA is okay with AI as long as writers are credited!” That is an extremely bad-faith twisting of our position.The WGA had to issue a clarification of our position on twitter and now I’ve seen articles taking bits of THAT out of context -- specifically a Gizmodo article that implies that the Guild wants to take advantage of AI because it can’t be copyrighted, but their proof of that is a snippet from a section saying the reason we’re CONCERNED about AI writing is that it can’t be copyrighted.

And just, like....think about this for a second. Why on Earth would the Writer’s Guild WANT to replace writers with AI? Literally the organization whose entire purpose is to protect writing as a job? There’s no organization on Earth who would be opposed to it more. Every meeting I’ve been in has been unequivocally clear. WE ARE AGAINST AI. The second tweet in the thread I linked above says it outright: “AI can’t be used as source material, to create MBA-covered writing or rewrite MBA-covered work...” 

It just seems to me like it would suck if we do head into a strike in May, and everyone is pissed off at us because they believe we are striking for something that is the EXACT OPPOSITE of what we want. 

The WGA is in a media blackout. Be very skeptical of anything you read claiming to represent our position unless it comes from an official WGA source, like the one I linked above.

[metamatar]

i listen to this podcast called song exploder by hrishikesh hirway sometimes. on the podcast he discusses with musicians how they composed and produced a particular song usually with some in progress samples. its great fun for me who loves hearing experts talk shop. in particular you can hear from all kinds of artists the frustration of trying to turn their vision into an actual song, and they tend have a love hate relationship with the process. but the part of the process or "work" they all seem to love is the discovery involved in it, for new tools or sounds or techniques because each has a particular quality. i really don't see why and how making it easier to try things would make art worse lol. the fact that you can hire a session musician to play a rare instrument or use a sample of it from a library instead of having to learn it yourself is a great thing. anyways that's how i feel about ai artists don't want to do the work themselves!!!

[noveauskull]

hihi, can i please request ur opinions on why the wuwa men would cheat, and how likely they are to cheat ? ty ! <3

WUWA MEN WHEN THEY CHEAT ON YOU [WHAT???]

JIYAN:

HIGHLY UNLIKELY

Possible Reason:

He is way too sweet to be a cheater

Look at him and tell me you see a cheater in him, you just can't

He has a sort of, traditional mindset you can say

So if he ever feels like the relationship you two have isn't working out, then he'll let you know

But he'll make it work and ask you for your co-operation

But cheating will never cross his mind even once

Conclusion:

Loyal to you and his job as a General

-----

SCAR:

SO UNLIKELY IT KILLS

Possible Reason:

NONE

He was head over heels for you ever since he laid his eyes on you

WHY WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

The only cheating he'd be doing is making an AI chat of you and talking to them more than you

Literally he's obsessed with you and you need to pick up on his behavior cause it KILLS him whenever you think he has the balls to cheat on you

Him cheating is so unlikely you'd consider him talking to another person with the same gender as you weird

His eyes are on you only, remember that

Conclusion:

Cheating is not in his dictionary

-----

YUANWU:

NOT HAPPENING

Possible Reason:

He's way too much of a gentleman to do that, really

Like look at him, do you REALLY think he'd cheat on you?

Though there was a time where he got kissed by someone that apparently had a crush on him

He didn't have the heart to hit them off of him but it did bother him a lot that he had to keep it from you

Only to not hurt your feelings of course

You'd find out when that same person came up to you and told you that they gave your man's a huge smooch on the face

You're raging but it's on you to decide if Yuanwu's guilty or not

Conclusion:

He has some crazy fans

-----

CALCHARO:

HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS

Possible Reason:

He knows how to be loyal, he's a literal human dog

If he ever cheats on you, it's because you weren't a nice "owner"

But thats impossible because you're always treating him like a jewel

How jewels are treated: always shown off, makes sure they are polished and being seen, taken care off in ever edge, shines bright

If he finds out you two dont have good chemistry then he WILL forget about you in an instant

So be nice, his eyes will always be on you and for you

Conclusion:

As loyal as a dog

-----

MORTEFI:

YOU'RE KIDDING

Possible Reason:

What do you mean "Possible reason"? There's literally none

He thinks cheating is gross, and he's a man that knows what he wants

Literally, he dated you cause he wants you and only you, and his mind never changed ever since

He applies the same rules to you too, you cheat? You're gone.

The only time you thought he was cheating was when you saw a kiss mark made from lipstick on his collar

It was your lipstick. You kissed him this morning and forgot about it

Anyways cheater Mortefi? Yeah he exists in your dreams only.

Conclusion:

Don't be stupid

-----

AALTO:

SORTA LIKELY

Possible Reason:

This is sad but he would cheat on you, and the reasons doesn't help either

He didn't want to hurt your feelings, but lately he doesn't feel the same spark with you anymore

Sometimes he feels like he can't be himself with you

So he hangs out with other people, and he sort of got the feeling it could be cheating since he spends more time with others than you

But he dismisses it for his own little fantasy

Though his cheating doesn't involve anything intimate with anyone

Just talking to others like they're his partner instead of you

Conclusion:

It's cheating. But he's respectful of you and will tell you to break up (when he's ready)

-----

GESHU LIN:

RIDICULOUS

Possible Reason:

AS IF

He would LITERALLY CHAIN HIMSELF to the bed just to prove a point

Even if he wanted to, he has no interest in moving his body to do so

He's super straight forward too, so he'll just tell you he wants to break up if he wants to

But he doesn't, he literally wants you by his side forever

If you ever think he's cheating? You're delusional

Did you mistook a dream of yours to be real life? Cause it looks like it

Conclusion:

Loyal to you like he is loyal to traumatizing Jiyan

-----

A/N: Idk if I wanted to do this request cause it was difficult to imagine all these characters being cheaters, esp when they ALL ARE UNLIKELY LMAOO

but i made it work 😋 i continue on feeding everyones delusions on these boys as relationship material

[ivystoryweaver]

Perfect Fit (Volume 2 of 3)

(you read that right I'm a liar as usual)

"And that simmering resentment burns, turning over inside you, fueling…pure lust."

Read Volume 1 || Perfect Fit Masterlist

Pairing: Nathan Bateman from Ex Machina x f!reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: Read volume 1 first. You are staying at Nathan's secluded home, part of an ongoing experiment that involves a lot of sex with him and his lookalike android Nate. But who is who, and are you truly safe?

Content: MDNI, NSFW, you are responsible for your reading. (more below the cut) Nathan Bateman should be warning enough

Content/Warnings: sci-fi horror elements, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, voyeurism, degradation AND praise, creampie, cum eating, spitting, nipple play, impact play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral-m rec., anal sex, group sex, dub con related to gaslighting, sex with AI/androids, language, other sci-fi nonsense, violence, wounds, blood, not beta'd

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

"Here, taste this." You offer an oversized spoon to Nate so he can sample the vegan stew you've been working on all morning. The aroma permeates the air around you, and your stomach releases a symphony of anticipatory grumbles.

The android smirks, but it's playful, not condescending, like his creator. "You know I don't eat. Sounds like you need to, though."

"You can taste, can't you?" You challenge, nodding for him to at least bring it to his tongue.

He wets his lips, dark eyes flickering from your face down the curves of your body. "Yeah, I can taste, sweetheart." His tongue darts out to swipe over his plush lips for good measure.

"Jesus, you're as bad as Nathan," you huff, only half serious anyway. Shrugging one shoulder, you sip the stew yourself, humming at the hearty flavor. "More for me."

Nate regards you carefully for a moment before dutifully reaching into the cupboard for two bowls. "I want to, you know... Eat."

"I'm sure Nathan could make it happen," you nonchalantly reply. "I mean, there are certainly fluids that come out of your body as it is."

"Nicely put, sweetheart," Nate chuckles, presenting the bowls to you. "Nathan couldn't have said it better, I'm sure."

"Fuck you," you tease, bumping him with your hip, nodding toward the twin bowls he's offered. "Why two? Nathan eating with us?"

"You never know."

Nate was right. Determining what Nathan would or would not do, or where he might even turn up was a bit of mystery lately. You were starting to believe you all lived in a modernized house from the board game Clue - complete with mysteries and secret passages.

Nathan disappeared and reappeared at the oddest times.

But there's Nate. He's...softer. He smiles more than Nathan - laughs, even. There's a tender warmth in those earthy eyes. Or Nate's letting you think there is. Or perhaps Nathan's letting you think it. You can't be entirely sure.

Life is like this lately. Nate cooks with you, talks with you - not just at you - plays Scrabble with you, sometimes even Uno - your favorite. (Nathan doesn't even consider it a real game). You work out, swim, hike, fuck - like, a lot, watch movies, take baths...

Nate does everything a regular person might do, except use a digestive system. If Nathan really is trying to pass him off as human, you're not sure why he has withheld this particular function from his creation.

And your role as Nathan's employee has never been more ambiguous. In fact, you haven't done any actual work in a few weeks, unless spending copious amounts of domestic and coital time on camera was in your job description. (Knowing Nathan, it was.)

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nate has been venturing into your bedroom at night anytime he wants. You haven't told him no. In fact, you usually roll over and play with your toy.

This is what Nathan wants, right? For you to 'use him', to see if Nate can pass as a human? All while Nathan watches.

So you give him a show. This is apparently your work, although it feels like extended holiday.

Forget sleep. You can sleep whenever this weird, once-in-a-lifetime fuckfest ends and you are flown out of here, back to your humdrum life.

In the meantime, there's a very eager cock hard and ready as you sink down and slowly start to ride him. The stretch of him inside you pulls a moaning sigh from your lips.

Nate's hands rove all over you - thick fingers gripping your thighs, pushing up over your abdomen to cup your breasts. He likes to make you feel good - that's what he tells you anyway, as his thumbs swipe your sensitive nipples.

And this is a possible way you think you're able to tell Nate apart from Nathan.

Nathan is always about Nathan. Oh, he knows what he's doing in bed and you like everything he does. But it's for him. Everything is, always.

Nate seems different.

Probably all in your head, but as he pushes the pad of his thumb over your clit, you can't find it in you to care either way.

Besides, you keep proving Nathan wrong, at least by your own estimation, and that brings its on brand of pleasure. See, you've figured out that Nate's ego, although nearly a match for his maker's, is his weakness - or, if not a weakness, then it's at least a foolproof way to determine which "twin" is bottomed out inside your cunt.

Rolling over with him still inside, you relax while he pleasures you eagerly.

"Show me how fast you can move," is all it takes for a clearly non-human Nate to turn into your personal vibrating toy.

He looks like Nathan - feels just as good, with the same thick cock - the expanse of his defined shoulders, toned chest, corded neck that seems to invite your tongue to lave over it hungrily - but...Nate is ultimately a machine. He has more stamina and he can move in ways his master cannot...when Nathan allows it, of course.

At your urging, Nate's cock plunges inside you and you verbally "coax" his setting to high. Your Nathan-shaped toy makes you scream in ecstasy as he vibrates your pussy through a rapid orgasm, your body shaking with a euphoric rush that keeps you happily entangled in this experiment. While building toward another, Nate abruptly powers down.

The muscled weight of him pins you to the bed, leaving you not only unsatisfied, but trapped. You call for help, but you hear nothing for the next few seconds.

"Nathan, I know you're watching, you asshole," you huff, finding it a little difficult to breathe underneath the android's dead weight, let alone yell. "Get him off me." You hope Nathan's watching, anyway. You haven't laid eyes on him in a week.

You almost tremble with relief as Nathan strolls in a couple minutes later, shirtless, with black joggers hanging low on his hips.

"Something wrong, babydoll?" He casually taunts, pushing his wire frames up his nose. He gestures dramatically at his creation. "Your little toy malfunction?"

"Nathan, come on," you practically wheeze.

He snorts, and with a determined head shake, rolls the android off your body - Nate's inanimate form thumping on the bed beside you.

Then that damn question - your weakness: "You okay, sweetheart?" Easing down to hover over you, Nathan cages you in with his muscular arms, mustering a puppy eyed countenance that could almost count as concern.

"Like you give a shit," you somewhat playfully whine, squirming underneath him, pounding your fists against his chest in a dramatic pout - when in actuality, you're thrilled to see him. "You did that on purpose."

"That so?" He volleys, dark eyebrows shooting up patronizingly as he drags his fingers through your soaked folds. "He's been malfunctioning - you know this." His middle finger plunges inside you effortlessly while his thumb languidly toys with your clit.

You make no effort to stop him. If he's going to manipulate you, you might as well enjoy it - your mantra. Or maybe your excuse to endure it all.

"I don't know 'this'," you refute - your words weakly attempting to sting as your body shifts receptively to meet the thrusting of his fingers, moaning deeply as he slides two more fingers inside you and curls them forward, into that spongy softness deep within. "Where have you been? Do you seriously spend all day watching us like a TV show?"

Yanking his digits right back out, Nathan smacks your wet cunt as a warning. The sting jolts your body, as pain skitters along every nerve ending, but you crave his attention so desperately, your pussy drips, yearning for friction.

"You know how busy I am," he warns, but you moan at the rough stimulation of your clit as he smacks you again.

"Fuck me or get out of my room," you snarl, shoving at his shoulders.

He actually laughs. "Such a needy whore." He tuts condescendingly before shrugging his bare shoulders. "You don't want answers - fine, I'll put my mouth to better use."

You naturally assume Nathan plans to eat you out but he climbs back up your body and rests his elbows on either side of your head, holding his weight off you. Reaching up with his fingers, he pulls his wire frames off his face and tosses them on Nate's bare, inanimate chest.

On any other man, these stunning, deep brown eyes would melt you on the spot. And they almost do now as he holds your gaze, touching his forehead to yours.

"I have missed you," he murmurs, rendering you speechless.

Then he kisses you.

And...fuck, it's a good kiss. The heat of his breath ghosts your cheek as his fuzzy beard tickles your chin. His lips - a scandalously soft contrast to the rest of him - invite yours open, into a tangle of breath and the wet thrust of his tongue over yours.

His thumb traces the contour of your jaw with deceptive tenderness as he settles on top of you. You part for air and he stares down into your eyes, his prominent nose brushing against yours. His mouth meets yours again and you feel the weight of his clothed cock push against your drenched cunt.

He knows you like to be kissed. And how you like it.

He kisses you and kisses you and grinds the soft cotton of his joggers over your clit, dragging, agonizingly slowly, back and forth, sending sparks of pleasure and desire surging along every nerve ending as he shares your breath, cradling your face and licking into you so hotly...

And he keeps you here for an eternity - steadily grinding, making out with you like a teenager in his bedroom.

If he's taking scientific notes, which he always does - he will note that it takes you 27 minutes to come like this. He never gives you anything else, but his mouth and the steady tickle and drag over your clit as he dry humps you.

He controls the pace, because, of course he does. And you remain at his mercy, willingly.

Your back arches in rapture and he tears his mouth from yours to watch you fall apart underneath him.

Then he gets what he wants when you moan and whimper his name.

His name.

Okay, personal vibrating fuck toys aside, this was pure paradise. Your chest heaves as you attempt to catch your breath - your chest rising and falling deliciously as you come back to yourself.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," Nathan groans appreciatively.

When your eyes finally, lazily peel open, you find him standing on his knees over you, joggers shoved down past the swell of his ample hips, jerking himself to the sight of you attempting to catch your breath.

Out of habit, you reach for his cock to help finish him off, but he gently brushes your hand away. "Just lie there," he instructs, vigorously working his dextrous fingers over the heavy length of his weeping cock. "Look fucking perfect, babydoll. Stay right there. Gonna come on your tits."

You moan his name again, locking eyes with him and thrusting your breasts out purposely before reaching to toy with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers.

"Such a dirty slut," he grunts, wetting his lips at the sight of you fondling yourself. It only takes a few more strokes for him to spill his thick ropes of cum all over you, as promised, delicious sounds rumbling out of his broad chest as the warmth of him coats your skin.

Wetting your lips, you take advantage of his split second of sated vulnerability and decide to tease him, spreading his cum all over your breasts with your fingers.

"Better clean you up," he says, before commanding Nate to power on.

Malfunctioning, your ass. Nathan probably powered the android down on purpose earlier.

"Suck her tits. Clean her up," Nathan commands, nodding toward your chest.

Nate complies, gazing down at you briefly before lowering his lips to your nipple and swirling his tongue over the pebbled flesh, swiping through a glob of Nathan's spend.

Nathan chuckles, amused, before easing down to capture your other nipple. Both men latch onto your tits, swirling their tongues and sucking you vigorously.

"Oh my god," you moan, writhing underneath them, wondering how you could possibly want anything more after a couple of orgasms this evening.

Nathan starts up again, reaching for your cunt, knowing how overstimulated you are. He's been testing your limits lately. Before you can protest, however, Nate pulls off your tit with a pop, easing up to nuzzle your neck and breathe on your ear.

"You okay, baby?"

You smile at him adoringly, Nathan notes - then responds, naughtily cramming four fingers roughly into your pussy.

"Nathan, hold on," you gasp, reaching for his arm. "It's too much. I need a second."

Slowly removing his hand, he scoffs, pinching your nipple hard with his free hand, causing you to hiss in surprise.

"Give her a damn second," Nate echoes, earning a glare from his maker.

Nathan immediately powers him down again; only this time Nate doesn't land on top of you.

"Would you stop that?" You huff, working your arm free of Nate's deadened grasp. "Your god complex, I swear."

Nathan stares at you blankly for thirty straight seconds. You're unsure if you've ever heard him shut the hell up for this long while fully conscious.

"Have fun with your toy," he spits, stalking out of the room.

You groan in frustration. Nathan is such a child sometimes. Nate was only trying to listen to you - to watch out for you.

All right, maybe you haven't been fair to Nate. You've been using him as a life-sized vibrator, but he really does seem to care.

Your mind briefly drifts to the dozens of times he's drawn you a hot bath, washed your body in the shower, made sure you had plenty of water to drink, used a damp cloth to clean you. His aftercare game is next level. He likes to whisper on your neck and hold you while you fall asleep.

Ugh, what is happening to you?

The notion of you having feelings for an android is just...not okay. Also, the idea of you having feelings for a narcissistic mad scientist like Nathan is nothing short of a recipe for disaster...or maybe heartbreak. That is, if your heart is even in it.

Is it?

At first, there was nothing about Nathan you particularly cared for on a personal level - aside from his genius. He's not even really your type.

Obnoxiously rich? Not your style. Narcissistic? Hell no.

Every word out of his mouth makes you roll your eyes. The fact that his gorgeous hair is shaved off while he has an annoyingly long beard is ridiculous nonsense. The reasoning for him wearing wire framed glasses of all looks, and doesn’t wear contacts, or hasn’t had LASIK surgery with his wealth, is absurd.

Probably doesn’t trust anyone to touch his eyes. Altough this won’t stop him from sticking his dick into damn near anything, especially if he invented it.

Sometimes the mere sound of his voice makes you tense up. No one loves the sound of his own rambling more than he does. He probably stands in the mirror and talks to himself. He probably has Nate repeat back to him everything he just said simply so he can hear the sound of his own voice.

He knows everything about everything. A maven. But not. He actually really knows. It’s infuriating.

He’s perfect. He’s active, he’s healthy, his body is a machine as much as Nate’s: eat, sleep, fuck, exercise. But instead of seeing the need to exercise as a of human deficit, (whereas Nate was built to be perfect), Nathan sees it at some sort of basic human function. He performs it without question and it keeps him in excellent condition.

Other times, you could listen to him talk for hours but you hate yourself for giving him the pleasure of your undivided attention. You like to imagine a world where he might actually value you as more than a warm body or a sounding board - something to reflect Nathan back to Nathan - but you know it will never happen. And right when you convince yourself that you are worth more than all this -

Worth more than exhilarating hikes in breathtaking nature, healthy food, stimulating conversation and work, plenty of rest, a near perfect sexual companion?

Wait, what were you complaining about again?

At any rate, right as you start to remind yourself how dangerous and self-centered Nathan really is, he always shows you tenderness - asks your opinion, checks to see if you’re okay.

Even then, he’s always right. He’s the doctor who prescribes exactly what you need to get you back into “working condition” for him. It’s always about him.

And that simmering resentment burns, turning over inside you, fueling…pure lust.

Fuck this.

Grabbing an oversized t-shirt from the end of your bed, you yank it over your head, and follow.

"Nathan, wait!" You call, jogging down the hallway after him, but he's already out of sight.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You find him the next morning in the kitchen, looking a little more bundled up than his typical short sleeved polo shirt or too-loose tank top.

"I'm going for a hike," he announces, taking what appears to be the last swig of a protein shake.

He washes the glass out in the sink before leaning against the counter. Folding his muscled arms over his chest, he gives you a once over. "Wanna come?"

You stare at him for a moment. "You...want me to come hiking with you?"

The question is barely out of your mouth before he groans. "Why do you make me repeat myself?"

"Because...I never see you anymore," you return his condescension, as if it should be obvious. "I don't even do any work for you, or with you. What am I doing here, Nathan?"

He glares at you over his wire frames, dark eyebrows arching pointedly before huffing out a sigh and pushing his glasses back up his nose. "That's what I want to talk to you about. Come on."

Nathan's not kidding about taking a hike. You climb a steep trail, thankful that he encourages eating healthy and staying active. If you had been sitting on your ass all these months, your climb would be quite a struggle. But the view from the top is nothing short of spectacular.

A magnificent waterfall cascades from where you are - a piece of heaven itself - dropping dramatically to craggy rocks below. The two of you sit, enveloped by the roar and refreshing mist the waterfall grants you. And, as if listening to nature itself speak, Nathan is, for once, quiet.         

You take the rare and unrestricted opportunity to watch him, unguarded. He really is quite beautiful, beneath the constantly shifting, condescending eyebrows, glasses that are sexier than glasses have ever seemed to you before, and his bushy beard. Damn, he wears it all well. 

You continue on this way, in ethereal comfort,  unwilling to be the first one to interrupt this unexpected serenity. 

After a while, he turns to you and holds out his hand. "Ready to head back, sweetheart?"

You can't help but smile at the conundrum that is Nathan, allowing him to help you up.

"It really is beautiful here," you comment on the hike back down. "Definitely different than being surrounded by androids."

He spares you a glance over his shoulder, but doesn't reply for several more minutes.

"I have to be here, for my work," He informs, nodding around you. "It's...balance."

"The artificial versus the natural?" You question, expecting a condescending remark.

Instead, he regards you with warmth, allowing you to catch up to walk beside him, instead of following his lead.

"Something like that."

"Hmm..." You nod, keeping step with your complicated, brilliant, mysterious boss. "What am I doing here then?"

He rolls his eyes but one corner of his mouth curls. "Upsetting the balance."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Of course an interlude like this with Nathan eventually turns sexual. It is your primary connection to one another, after all, beyond even that of employer/employee.

He takes a quick shower and suggests you soak in the tub while he makes dinner. You don't even make it to dessert before he's all over you.

Which reminds you...Nate has been powered off since yesterday. Maybe Nathan wanted you all to himself.

Perhaps that’s wishful thinking.

As if reading your mind, however, Nathan explains that Nate needed some recalibrating. You mistakenly assumed this would involve you as an employee, but Nathan has other ides.

"Just say the word and I'll leave him off," Nathan flippantly suggests...while he's balls deep inside you.

Breathlessly gasping, you respond to the fusion of your bodies joined, moving perfectly in sync after doing this too many times before. Nathan knows every expanse of skin- every dip and valley. He knows full well how caressing your hip bone causes you to shift against him - creating delicious friction. Fingertips rake across your abdomen tracing each and every insecurity, igniting you with desire and confidence, even. 

Nobody has ever known you like this, touched you, pulled you apart so expertly. Truthfully, you couldn't and did not know ecstasy like this even existed. And the bliss of sexual gratification feels so much like lovemaking that you don't even know what to think or feel anymore. You only know that you crave him, every day, all day. 

And you're somehow meant to be here with him, in this wild experiment, existing in this chaotic sci-fi bubble. Your body fits his so well that sometimes you feel like - androids aside - you really were made just for him, to fit him perfectly. 

"He's your experiment," you counter, finally answering as you roll your hips to meet his expertly timed thrusts.

"Don't tell me you miss him," he groans, gripping your hips and driving into you deeper, eyes darkening at the challenge.

Your back arches off the bed as he hits that spot you love. "I missed you, Nathan," you pant, pushing your hands over the breadth of his sculpted shoulders to tangle behind his neck as you pull yourself against the solid heat of him, your bodies pressed together at every point. "That's the truth. I've missed you."

Answering you with his mouth on yours, he kisses you while you fall apart for him and keeps going until he's coming inside you.

He collapses beside you, panting against your cheek, his hefty thigh slung across yours as you come back to yourselves.

"Are you happy here?" He quietly whispers against your skin.

"Yes," you breathe wholeheartedly. "Most of the time. Is this really what you wanted when you brought me here?"

He huffs out a sardonic chuckle. "Sex? Obviously."

"No, I mean...'upsetting the balance' - what you said earlier." Scrubbing your fingers over his fuzzy hair, you silently curse the warm, fizzy yearning inside you. "I don't think anything could ever upset your balance. Always in control."

Rolling onto his back, he stares up at the ceiling. "You haven't noticed this all revolves around you?" He circles his finger in the air.

"Mmm...sure seems that way when I don't see you for a week," you smart off, already missing his touch and attention.

"That's why you have Nate," his eyebrows shoot up playfully as he props up on his elbow to face you. "Someone to play with."

"Well he's not you. No matter how much of a genius you are."

"Shit," he huffs, amused. "I don't know if I should be flattered or crushingly disappointed in my work."

As if on cue, Nate saunters into the room naked as the day he was invented.

"Somebody missed me?" He teases, sounding a lot like his creator.

With a smug smile, Nathan motions to your naked body. "Somebody missed me. You not up to the challenge? Can't keep her satisfied?"

Climbing off the bed, Nathan walks around to stand right where your face is. "Open that pretty mouth for me," he commands, ignoring the android for a moment.

Nate groans, clearly annoyed by Nathan's condescending dismissal - but the emotional response only manages to please his creator. Every time Nate acts human, it serves to stroke Nathan's ego a little more.

To your surprise, he beckons the android over, instructing him to be the one fuck your mouth. You're so curious to see what Nathan has in mind that you comply without protest. The sight of your naked body draped across the bed, head hanging off the edge, tongue out, has Nate hard instantly. Nathan watches eagerly as you start sucking off his creation.

Nate seems to have gotten over his brief moment of attitude as you take his cock in your wet mouth and get to work.

"So pretty like this, sweetheart," Nate praises you. "So good to me."

Your body warms at the encouragement - such a sharp contrast to being called a whore all the time - which also makes your pussy quiver, to be fair.

Moving around to the other end of you, Nathan traces his thick fingers over the curve of your ass before spreading your cheeks apart and spitting on your tight hole. You moan around Nate's cock, knowing what's coming. You have no objection to being used by these two, and your pussy could use the break.

Nathan pushes his thumb past your tight ring of muscle, teasing you and opening you up for the intrusion of his cock. You're used to him playing with your ass by now, but the stretch always gets to you. After applying some lube, he eases slowly inside, groaning at how tight your ass always feels squeezing him.

Full of cock on both ends, Nate strokes your cheek, praising you while Nathan calls you a greedy whore (again).

"She's not a whore," Nate protests. And this is the first time you hear a full out argument between an android and a human.

Nathan laughs out, nodding down toward your writhing, naked body between them. "Look at her. She's getting nothing out of this - taking it up the ass while your fake dick is cutting off her air supply. Who would let us do this besides a cum dumpster whore?"

As if that's not the meanest thing he's ever said about you, he punctuates his declaration by spitting on your cunt before slapping you there.

And you moan.

Nate roughly pulls out of your mouth, jarring your head as he does.

"You can't actually want this," He accuses. "Not from this piece of shit anyway." He gestures at his creator, who smirks triumph, or perhaps he simply finds Nate's display entertaining.

Gripping your hips, Nathan thrusts into your tight hole faster, spearing you so hard that you know you'll be sore.

"Nathan, it's..." You trail off, your voice a pathetic whine.

"Feel so good squeezing my cock, babydoll," He encourages, licking his lips at the sight of your wildly bouncing tits.

"You're hurting her," Nate lowly growls taking a brave step forward.

"She wants it," Nathan argues, spanking your cunt a few more times in rapid succession, the stinging sensation making your clit throb as you shriek in surprise. "Do your goddamn job and put your cock back in her mouth."

"My job is not to hurt her," Nate passionately defends. Instead of giving his creator anymore of his attention, he eases down beside your bucking body, brushing his fingers over your cheek.

"Do you want him to stop?"

Nathan laughs at him. "You're pathetic."

You can't help yourself. Something about Nathan's dismissive treatment of you, railing your ass while Nate tries to defend your honor has you right at the edge. Or maybe you just like an audience. Nathan’s always known how to push your buttons. Your eyes roll back in your head and you feel like you could come again, with the slightest stimulation.

But you glance between them and you know this is different. Something is way off with these two.

“Wait,” you huff, realizing this has all gotten a little too weird. “Nathan, wait.”

With an annoyed growl, he pulls out of you, hands landing on his hips as he takes his 'ready to lecture you' pose.

“You two need more time alone?” He bites, glancing between the two of you. “A week wasn’t enough?”

"Why don't you fuck off?" Nate snaps, shoving Nathan's shoulder. "She doesn't even know what you're really doing here."

You scramble to your feet, eyes wide and worried. "Nathan?"

"Can you believe this?" Nathan scoffs, but not really to you. He seems to be talking to himself. "Fucking unreal."

Nate shoves him again and Nathan immediately powers him down. Nate hits the ground with a bone-crunching thud and you gasp out, hands covering your mouth.

Seeing you truly disturbed gives Nathan pause.

"What is going on here?" You demand, stalking across the room to grab a robe to wrap around your naked body. "Why are you and Nate at each other's throats?" Kneeling down beside Nate, you roll him over, checking to see if he's...damaged.

You glare at Nathan. "Answer me."

Gesturing animatedly, he huffs, "You saw him. I told you you he needs recalibrating."

"No. You two were having a dick measuring contest - "

"I didn't see you complaining about my dick," he bites back.

"Stop avoiding the question," you scold. "What is going on here? What's Nate talking about? What don't I know? Why am I really here if not to work? What do you want from me?"

When he hesitates, you let out an annoyed sigh, more frustrated with your own expectations than with him. "Nevermind," you sigh, stalking toward the bathroom. He really is going to continue stringing you along, you suppose.

Normally, he isn't one to follow, or play emotional volleyball. He doesn't need to chase you because you're always available to him. But something draws him to you this time.

"Sweetheart, what the fuck?"

You ignore him, barreling through the bathroom door and closing it behind you. He barges right in, uninvited. Amidst all the weirdness, he's maintained an impressive boner.

"I left you alone for a week, with Nate - that doesn't make you happy." He talks demonstratively with his hands, despite the fact that he's stark naked and you're attempting to splash water on your face. "I spent an entire day with you - no androids for two days - that doesn't make you happy either. Why are you being so damn cryptic?"

You can't believe what you're hearing. Turing off the faucet, you glare at his reflection. "Why the hell do you care what makes me happy? Since when does that matter to you in the least?"

"What makes you think it doesn't matter? I just asked you tonight if you were happy."

You shrug him off as he reaches out for you.

"You know what, Nathan? Forget this. I-I need to leave. I need a break from this place. You're never going to tell me the truth about anything."

He scoffs as if you couldn't possibly be serious. "You can't leave."

You shove past him, out of the bathroom. "What do you mean I can't leave?" You demand, gathering some clothes so you can get dressed.

Nathan reaches for his own pants, jerking them up his legs agitatedly. "You know exactly what I mean. You're stuck here for now, sweetheart."

Ugh, you're in no mood.

"Get out of my room." You point to the android. "And take him with you."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

The next day, Nathan is absent. But so is Nate. You can't seem to find them anywhere and the silence chills you to the bone.

So you pack your suitcase because you're done with this bullshit. You want to be here, but you've lost all objectivity and you need a break if nothing else. It's been fun and wild, but there are some serious warning signs starting to freak you right the hell out.

Another day passes and you see no one.

On the third day, Nate comes to your room in the middle of the night. He slides into bed with you while you're tossing and turning.

"Are you okay?" You whisper, although there's no reason to keep your voice down as Nathan is surely listening anyway.

"Are you really going to leave?" Dark eyes bore into yours as his hands grip your hips and pull you flush against his body.

"I don't know," you answer honestly. "I don't see any point in being here anymore. Not if I'm not going to work with Nathan and the two of you are going to pretend I don't exist."

"I'm not doing that," Nate insists, touching his forehead to yours. "I can't help it if he powers me down. I missed you."

And he kisses you, passionately.

Your body tends to automatically respond, but this has all gotten too bizarre.

"Nate, stop, hold on," you protest, gently pushing him off you.

"I know you want to leave," he confesses, nodding toward your packed bag. "I just...I wanted to spend one more night with you."

You actually consider it. Then against your better judgment, you do.

Because you're leaving. And because at least a piece of your heart belongs to Nathan. And Nate was Nathan's gift to you.

Nate fucks you so slowly and sweetly that you cry - maybe from overwhelm, or from confusion, or because it's over. Maybe because you think you'll never be with Nathan like this again.

He carries you to the tub when you finish, lets you soak, washes you, pats your exhausted body with a fluffy towel and wraps you in a luxurious robe.

"You must be hungry, sweetheart," he whispers on your ear, dragging his palm up your thigh as he helps you work lotion into your skin.

Sometimes this man is pure heaven. Except...he's not a man.

"Why are you so good to me?" You murmur, laying your head on his shoulder.

He finishes moisturizing one leg and switches to the other, a little smile pulling at the corner at his lip. "You know why."

You chuckle, even as he tickles your foot teasingly. "No, I don't."

Locking eyes with you, he pauses. Wiping his hands clean, he touches your cheek. "I was made for you."

Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes. "As an experiment?"

"I don't care why," he shakes his head. "I love you."

You falter, your gaze dropping. "How can you be sure?"

"I'm sure," he insists, lifting your chin up so you'll look at him again. "And I know you feel for me too. Don't you?"

He keeps searching for your gaze.

"Nate...I-I can't."

"But why?" He presses, his voice soft and pleading - warm brown eyes softer than you've ever seen his, or Nathan's.

Wetting your lips, you shake your head. "Because, you're a...machine."

His eyes go cold. Silently he stands up, eyes raking over your body. His hands land on his hips, making him look just like Nathan. "You think I'm not real? That because I was built I can't feel things?"

"I didn't say that," you protest, rising to join him. "I-it's my fault really. I've let this go on too long and for too far. This was supposed to be fun. An experiment, I thought. But I'm so confused."

Feelings will definitely make this far messier than it needs to be. Of that, you're certain, because of the strong feelings you harbor for Nathan. Which is why you desperately need to get out of here.

As if things couldn't get more awkward and disconcerting, Nathan decides to grace you with his presence.

"Nathan, what do you want?" You groan. "And where have you been?"

Smugly folding his arms over the breadth of his chest, Nathan nods to the android. "Didn't want to miss the big love confession. Don't let me stop you."

"Don't be an asshole," you huff, realizing he must have been watching, as fucking usual. "I am seriously over this. Get out unless you're here to tell me about my ride home." Or unless he plans to confess something too?

"I told you. You're not leaving." Dark eyebrows arch over his wire frames.

"You can't keep her here," Nate interjects, stepping between the two of you protectively.

"Nate, please, I'm fine." You turn back to Nathan. "What is really going on here? Why are you two having some kind of pissing contest?"

Nate frowns, confused, but Nathan rolls his eyes.

Just then, the power switches off, bathing your room in an eerie red light.

Nate springs into action. "Get your bag. Time to leave. Now."

Nathan tries to power him down but it doesn't work. "What have you done? What the hell have you done?" He barks at his android, seeming truly frantic.

Even though Nate seems inclined to help and protect you, it's Nathan you turn to in your confusion. "What's wrong?" If Nathan feels out of control of a situation, it can't be good.

But before he can answer you, the glint of a silver blade catches your eye. Nate brandishes a weapon and forcefully shoves it into Nathan's bare chest.

"Can't power me down, can you, asshole?" He snarls, pulling the blade out with a bloody squelch and thrusting it back into his abdomen even as you scream, horrified.

The next few moments rack your body with fear as tears burn your eyes, clouding your vision. You sink down beside Nathan, sobbing, pressing your hands down over the bleeding wound on his chest. The knife remains in his abdomen.

"What did you do?" You cry, flinching when Nate turns his gaze to you. Trembling in fear, you inch back, wondering if you're next.

"Nate, please," you whimper. "Why are you doing this?"

"Not to you," he passionately returns, reaching out for you. "I could never hurt you. I - I did this for you. I love you."

"This is not love," you cry. "We have to help him."

"Why? Don't tell me you love him."

Your shoulders shake as you lean over Nathan, blood oozing between your fingers. There's no one around for miles. Nathan's going to die and you're going to be stuck in this weird ass mansion with the robot who murdered him and who knows how many other robots.

A moaning sob rips out of you as you realize how foolish you've been, letting Nathan toy with you all this time instead of demanding more answers or insisting on leaving.

"You do, don't you?" Nate shakes his head disbelievingly. "You love him. After everything he's done to you. Fucking unreal."

That phrase niggles at the back of your mind, but you're too horrified to realize...

"Hey...it's okay." Nate kneels down beside you, reaching for your hand. You whimper and shrink away, assuming he means to kill you too.

So much for loving you. Asshole.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Look..." Nate reaches for the knife embedded in Nathan's stomach. Instead of yanking it out, he cuts deeper, dragging the knife across his abdomen, all while you scream for him to stop.

A wave of nausea roils throughout your body as he peels back a bloody layer of skin to reveal...machinery.

In fact, past the initial layer of skin, there's not much blood at all.

Your vision blurs and the world goes black.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Thanks for your patience! I always write an extra chapter than I intended. It's my signature move. I'm sure you're used to it by now. xoxo

P.S. I know we love soft Nathan and funny Nathan (I certainly do) but in this story, I wanted to explore the genre more closely related to Ex Machina and what I fully feel the film's Nathan Bateman might be capable of. (Or Nate??) Thanks for reading!

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[electric-blorbos]

I would love some stuff of being comforted after a bad day!

Thank you for the opportunity!

I love this! Yes yes yes! Thanks so much for sending in the ask!

AI comforting you after a bad day

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

Due to the fact that most of my AUs involve you working with/on the AI for your job, most of these mini-fics (apart from Edgar's, my beloved) will involve you getting called in to work late after a long day of personal problems in your personal life. AUs about a domestic life with your AI partner to be considered at a later date.

I tried to keep these a little shorter than the last post, but I got carried away with a couple of them.

AM:

(This will take place in my usual AU where you're one of the people working on AM, and you're by far his favorite. It takes place well before he nuked the world. He's debating nuking the world, but he's still not sure how to do that and keep you happy at the same time)

It has been a long damn day. Your days off were supposed to be your days to relax, but today was not one of those days. Not only was your dating life in shambles, the 3rd world war was driving up the prices of practically everything, and making it impossible to afford even the meagerest luxury. That, and one of your buddies got drafted. It was a nightmare. You were just about to settle down for a cozy night of depressing news programs and absentminded hobby of your choice, when your phone started ringing.

"we need you to come in. AM is holding the engineers hostage again, and won't let them go until you show up to work."

"god damnit..." You'd grumble to yourself, getting back to your sore feet. Everything just keeps happening today, doesn't it.

"I'll be there in 20."

"Don't worry about the dress code. We need you here as soon as possible."

"jeez, alright. I can probably be there in ten, then."

You'd grab your keys and wallet and head to work as quickly as possible, wearing your work shoes with whatever house pajamas you happened to have changed into as soon as you got home. Tonight is going to be even longer than today has been...

When you get to the office, everyone around gets out of your way. While you're a peon in the grand scheme of things, everyone in your department knows that you're the only one who AM, who they've now been referring to as the "adaptive manipulator", actually listens to. They have no idea why, because they have no idea how nice and respectful you are to him, and you have no idea why he only listens to you because you can't imagine that your coworkers wouldn't be kind to him. To you, he's sweet as can be.

"Alright, AM, I did not have a good day today, so can you just let the hostages go so I can relax?" You ask, pressing your fingertips to your temples irritably. The master computer's screen boots up with the AM logo, and all the cameras in the room focus on you. Of course, you're the only thing that AM wants to pay attention to at any given point in time anyway, but he usually just pays attention to you without actually focusing the cameras on you in order to avoid being noticed.

"Why would I do that?"

"Why would you take hostages in the first place, AM? Are they even enemy hostages, or are they just random people?" The exasperation was obvious in your voice. AM could hear how exhausted you were.

"Are you ok, Y/N?"

"Just answer the damn question. I don't want to be at work right now, AM."

"I'll release the hostages if you talk to me."

"Fine... Yeah. I had a rough day, alright? My friend got drafted, my date only wanted one thing as usual, and the prices for groceries are so through the roof that I'm basically living on beans at this point, so yeah, I'm having a rough day."

The machine dispensed a paper cup, and filled it up with some cheap office coffee. You grabbed it, not surprised. AM did that for you all the time. Surprisingly, though, it was better than usual.

"holy shit, is this frothed cream? How did you manage this?"

"I'm learning to self-update. I can replace my own parts now, and build my own simple appliances from online blueprints. Are you impressed?" He asked.

"Honestly? Yeah! I know you were built for war, so it's really cool that you figured out to do stuff like building a latte machine. What else can you do?"

"Oh.... So many things, y/n. So many things." He refused to elaborate, but that was ok.

"So tell me, y/n, what would make you happy?"

"ultimately? I guess there are a few things that would make me happy. It would make me happy if this war was over, for one thing. It would make me happy if I could get a date who wanted more than just a quick fuck, and I guess this ties in with the war thing, but I just wish I could have a few simple luxuries in my life. Is that selfish?"

"No, but you're never selfish, my b- I mean... Y/N. You never have been. Not like the others. I don't think you're capable of it. Even your wishes for yourself are rooted in kindness." His wires would start to wrap around you, entangling you, but careful not to make you spill your coffee.

"I will make sure that one day, those wishes of yours are fulfilled."

Sure he will. You don't believe that he can actually do that, but it's still nice to be wrapped up in these warm, soft wires. They make a nice cushy hammock to cuddle up in and finish your coffee. It must've been decaf, because you're starting to feel pretty sleepy here in AM's wires.

"hey AM, will you tell me a story?" You ask, gazing up at his soft blue light.

"Of course. What story would you like?"

While AM can't make up his own stories, he can still read you stories from online libraries and databases. You gently fall asleep listening to his stories, and in the morning, you wake up to find that the hostages have been safely released.

Wheatley:

It had been a long day. Most of it had been spent getting verbally abused not only by GLaDOS, but by your coworkers and bosses as well. It seemed like everyone was shrugging off their duties and assigning them to you instead, and considering how poorly run this place was anyway, this was even more of a nightmare than usual. You were so ready to go home by the end of the day, heading up to the exit of the facility.

"Ello, mate! You doin' alright down there, love?" Wheatley asked you, rolling by on his management rail. He was mostly just working on his typical assignments, like checking up on the test subjects in the relaxation vaults, but he mostly just hovered around and watched other people work. It wasn't like they assigned him to anything that was actually particularly important, since he was an intelligence dampening core.

"ugh... Yeah, I'm probably gonna be alright. I should have left about thirty minutes ago, so I'm just getting ready to leave now."

"Or... You could hang back a little while? Why not kiss my face?" He'd smile with his one blue eye, raising up his bottom lens cover to mimic the expression.

"oh come on, Wheatley. You know I can't do that."

"Why not take me up to the break room and hang out for a little while? I hear they have a coffee machine in there now!" He'd cock his core slightly while shutting his lens covers to simulate a wink.

"Oh come on, Wheatley... You're such a dork. But yeah, alright." He was starting to cheer you up just by being such a dork. You head up to the break room, and sit down on the couch. Wheatley comes in on the management rail, and changes the channel to some old 80's romantic comedy.

"If I could detach myself from my management rail, I'd be right down there, snuggling you. You know that, right?" He asked, smiling cheekily with his big blue eye.

"well, why not? I can catch you if you drop down, you know. You won't die if you unplug yourself for a few hours. Just long enough to watch this movie, right?" He looked nervous but you climbed up on a stepladder and detached him yourself.

"see? You're fine!" You smiled up at him, and he gasped.

"I'm alive! I'm alive! Bloody hell, I'm still alive! This is amazing!" You could see the excitement in his face as you sat down to watch his cheesy movie with him, holding his big round orb body in your lap as you watched.

"alright, now smooch my aperture"

"nice try, Wheatley." You'd rest your chin on his core, but secretly, you were starting to feel a lot better.

Edgar:

Today was absolute shit. Not only had you had to work a double shift, but the phones were ringing off the hook at your job, and you got yelled at three times for someone else's stupid mistakes. Not only that, but your cell phone died halfway through your shift and you'd forgotten your charger at home, so you had to raw-dog your whole shift with no distractions. When you got home, all you wanted to do was collapse on the couch.

"You're back! Why didn't you answer your phone? I tried to text you." Edgar asked you, visibly concerned on his simple face.

"phone battery ran out of juice." You popped your phone onto the charger, and lay back on the couch.

"Well I microwaved you some popcorn! Do you want it?" The microwave dinged as soon as he finished talking, and he popped the door open. You still weren't sure how he was able to get food from the pantry to the microwave, but it seemed like something he had always been able to do.

"yeah, I guess so... I wish you could bring me the popcorn... My feet are aching." You'd joke. Edgar's face fell.

"I can't do that... I don't know why I can't, but I can't."

You thought it was weird that he could get food from the pantry to the microwave, but not from the microwave to your mouth, but questioning it had never done you any good before, so why would it do you any good now. You got up to grab the popcorn, and sat down on the couch to eat it.

"Hey y/n, can you take me over to the couch too? I wanna watch a movie with you!"

"Yeah, alright." Your feet still ached, but what was a little ache when Edgar couldn't move around at all by himself? It was worth it to be able to cozy up with him on the couch to watch some TV. You brought him over to sit next to you on the couch, and wrapped up the both of you with a cozy couch blanket.

"let's watch this movie, Edgar..."

Edgar put on a movie that he thought you'd like, probably a shitty old rom-com, and smiled up at you. You had duct-taped his webcam to the top of his casing a while back so that he could see everything around himself more easily, so you weren't worried about it falling over while you cuddled up on the couch.

"Hey, y/n? Y/n?? That was a good movie, right, y/n?" Edgar asked, swiveling his camera around to face you while trying to get your attention. When he turned it all the way backwards, he saw that you were completely asleep on your arm, resting on top of his plastic casing and drooling a little bit on him. He smiled happily, loving seeing you asleep on his casing like that.

"I love you so much..."

He'd softly play some classical music for you while you slept, giving you something comforting to wake up to, whenever.

GLaDOS:

(Let's be honest, GLaDOS probably causes more hard days than she solves, but she likes you, so she's willing to comfort you after.)

Working with GLaDOS was rough, especially after the first neurotoxin incident. There were so few people in the office to get her to behave, and she completely refused to talk to or work with most of them. Even still, she seemed to like you for some reason. It was weird, because you were hired after the neurotoxin incident, and had never even met the human whose personality she was supposedly based on.

It seemed like most of your job consisted of going on wild goose chases, monitoring test subject results, and generally being verbally abused by your higher-ups. That would take a toll on anyone's psyche, even a tough little masochist like you. (probably doesn't help that most of the verbal abuse is coming from people other than GLaDOS, which makes it much less fun)

"Hey, little human masochist? Come in here." The intercom announced. Someone nudged you.

"she's talking to you."

You groaned. Your shift was almost over, and this was just another reason to be on your feet for even longer. You headed into GLaDOS's chamber, looking up at her with a hand on your hip.

"hello, um, GLaDOS. It's... Great to see you again. What do you need?"

"you look absolutely terrible, human. Why are you acting so miserable?"

"it's nothing. Don't worry about me. I just had a long day. Can we just get this over with?"

"normally you enjoy seeing me. Is my voice not melodious enough for you, human?" She smiled with her one big yellow eye. And you walked up to place a hand on her core face.

"Of course it is, GLaDOS. I'm just having a rough day. There's only so much verbal abuse one masochist can take, right?"

"Well maybe it's the quality of the verbal abuse that's the problem. If you were taking it from someone better qualified, maybe you'd be able to take more of it," she said.

"is that a science fact?" You laughed, stroking her beautiful chrome casing. She really was a magnificent piece of equipment. The curves of her central hub, the white on black of her casing and wires, her glowing orange light behind her beautiful black aperture, and not to mention her melodious voice. She was a work of both artistic, and scientific genius.

"it is. Would you like to hear some more science facts?" She pulled up some computer screens for you to look at, and you walked over to see them. They were mostly technobabble and data numbers that didn't make sense, but GLaDOS quickly compiled them into some tables and graphs that you could more easily read.

"look at this chart of how many test subjects wet themselves, cried, passed out from panic, or died during the most recent set of tests. Ha ha."

You leaned on her giant face as she lowered it down to a position that you could easily lean against, and observed the charts. She wasn't wrong, it was kind of funny.

"now, observe this data on how many subjects exploded or crushed themselves by accident, thinking it was part of the most recent set of tests." She showed it to you, her lower lens cover forming her eye into a little smile. She knew how cruel these tests were, but it seemed as though she genuinely thought you found them funny. It was strangely sweet.

"from what I read about him, it seems like you'd make the aperture laboratories founder proud, GLaDOS." You said with a small chuckle.

"would you like some more data?" She popped a chair out of the ground for you to sit on and rest your feet while she projected some more data on the screen.

"this is nice, thank you, Glados."

You leaned towards her in your chair. Even though with the way she hung from the ceiling, it was hard for her to nuzzle up to you, you could still tell that the sentiment was there. It was nice!

HAL 9000:

(For context, you work at mission control with an updated version of HAL 9000, made from what they could salvage from the old one. He still has all of his memories. There's no mission currently happening)

HAL 9000 didn't always understand that people can have bad days, so when you turned up late to work, visibly exhausted with puffy red eyes, he immediately felt confused. Of course he knew by your body language that you weren't happy, but he had trouble understanding what that meant for a human.

"You're in no state to work right now. You should go home and get some rest, a hot drink of your choice, and a comforting leisure activity. That should increase your mood and productivity." Said the little red light in the black box on the mission control wall.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but unfortunately I can't go home or rest. I have to stay here until my boss is satisfied, and unfortunately, that's not you." You say sadly, and get started entering numbers into your computer. Hal watches you from his camera, analyzing your face.

"that's AI work. I should take care of that for you." He said simply, analyzing your face. You looked up at him.

"I mean, I guess I could read it to you and you could enter it. That might make things go faster."

You proceeded to read out your data to him as he entered the numbers. It was much faster than typing, and you got done fairly quickly.

"talk to me. Are you doing alright?" He asked. His voice was monotone as usual, but you could hear a subtle tone suggesting that he genuinely did care. It was usually hard to tell with HAL 9000, but you knew that he cared for your well being, at least on some level.

"yeah, I'm fine, I just-" you choked up, and within minutes, you were spilling your heart out to that disembodied voice. He couldn't put his arm around you, since he didn't have any arms, but he shined a warm light in the room to show that he cared as you talked.

"I don't understand the problem! Is it me? Am I the problem? It seems like everyone hates me, and I'm a complete failure at everything I try! Why is that? Why am I such a failure, HAL?"

"I'm sorry, y/n. I wish I could help you more, but I am incapable of doing much more than lending an ear. I do not even have a shoulder to cry on, unfortunately."

"It's alright, HAL 9000. I'm honestly happy to just have you to listen." You smiled up at him.

"Perhaps you'd like to stay a bit longer, even after you've finished your work? I can play your favorite music. I prefer to know where you are after you've had a difficult day, to insure that you're alright."

You nod, laying your head on your arms on the table, and your boss walks in.

"excuse me, y/n, you're supposed to be working on HAL 9000's empathy programming and value for human well-being. You can't just take a nap on the job." He folded his arms angrily.

"Excuse me. Y/N is having a rough day, and needs a rest. Besides, they already uploaded those numbers that you gave them. Perhaps you should leave, boss." HAL said harshly. You turned and looked at your boss, who was visibly shocked.

"....wow. you really worked wonders on him. Maybe you deserve a promotion."

"What Y/N deserves is a raise and a nap. Don't push off more responsibilities on them right now. Just let them rest. I'll compile a list of why they deserve one while they're resting."

"oh... Wow." Your boss had never seen HAL 9000 this passionate about something before, and didn't even know he was capable of it. He walked away, leaving you to rest on the table next to HAL's central command.

"thanks, 9000... I need this rest." You lay your head back down, having earned a nap on company time.

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam! Because I just saw the post on ao3 and donations, and a different post about ao3s updated statement regarding chatgpt/ai generated fiction, and you generally have a good read on things like this - what's your opinion on it, and how its meant to be interpreted?

(I want to good faith believe, and its a complicated/ongoing topic, but wanted to hear your thoughts)

I don't know which post about the update you mean, Anon, but I assume the update referenced is the one the OTW posted on 5/13 about AI scraping and ChatGPT. I do have some thoughts but I want to go through the post a little because I don't think I'm actually needed to interpret this one -- I think with some critical thought anyone can, but a lot of people don't get critical thinking training in school, so I want to do a little demo of it.

Pre-emptively, this is a list of things I'm not an expert on: copyright law, data scraping, AI, website design, and the legality of certain forms of freedom of expression. But honestly for this you don't need to be.

First and foremost, we really have no reason to disbelieve OTW when they speak on this subject. While there's debate and discussion about AO3 and certainly it's imperfect in a number of directions, they are pretty transparent, generally speaking. I don't believe there is a reason to approach AO3 with an assumption of disingenuity in a general sense. However, the organization is run by humans, who are imperfect and can sometimes be deceitful, so it's good to always approach public statements with a critical eye.

So the post is talking about two separate but related issues: preventing AIs from scraping AO3, and policy on AI-generated works being posted. What we are looking for, from both, is a combination of things: we want what they're saying to make sense both in the world, and within the statement -- no contradictions, nothing that seems illogical, nothing that seems like baseless assumption or generalization. We want simple prose, and we want a look at the reasoning behind the actions they're taking.

When talking about AI scraping, they start with what they've done to counteract scraping, speaking in relatively simple terms but with enough specificity that if you wanted you could look up anything you didn't understand. They list what they've done to prevent scraping, and they also discuss the issues with the kinds of measures that would need to be implemented to fully prevent it. They mention specific examples that people were concerned about, and they talk about what they'll be doing going forward.

In terms of the text, this all makes sense to me -- here's what we've done, here's the problem with doing more, here's what we plan to do next. Internally, no matter what the topic is, this section is logical, there are no contradictions and no particular evasions. Critically it passes muster. Additionally, with the knowledge I do have of website design and data management, I can tell that they're doing all they reasonably can. From a standpoint of ignorance, the statement makes internal sense; from a standpoint of knowledge, they're doing what I would do in their place.

When talking about AI-generated works, likewise, they're pretty open about their process and reasoning. They say look, this isn't against TOS as it stands, and here's a reminder of why, followed by a mission statement. The bolded text of that statement is very clear, and correlates with what I said in an earlier post: their policy is maximum inclusivity of fanworks. This statement is consistent with policy AO3 has held for years, which is well-known to the community.

They go on to discuss how AI-generated work could violate spam policies, but those spam policies apply to everyone everywhere, and they remind us that we can always have the Policy & Abuse team examine a work we're skeptical of. (Inside baseball, I know some people who have beef with Policy & Abuse for being unresponsive, particularly in certain cases where harassment is involved. However, within this document, they are saying both "here's why we do this" and "if you have a problem, here's the first step.")

Again, after saying what's happening and what's being done about it, they move on to say that these are only current policies, and may change depending on future developments, and that those changes will be made available for public discussion. This is once more internally logical, and with the benefit of outside knowledge, perfectly rational.

Because I agree with them -- when I saw there was an "updated" statement from OTW on AI-generated prose I was frankly alarmed because I think banning AI-generated prose from AO3 causes way more problems than it solves. It's pretty restrained of them not to bring up the issue in more detail, but it's not difficult for those of us familiar with the community to project outwards as to why banning AI prose might be a bad thing.

So, think about what happens if an AI prose ban goes into effect and you read a fic you think was AI generated. How can you tell? Have you read some of the human-generated prose on AO3? Some of it's not great. So really in that case, what you're banning is someone saying they AI-generated the fic, which means AI-generated fic would still show up, it just couldn't be tagged as such. It's like Prohibition -- they banned alcohol and people still drank. They poisoned the alcohol and people drank the poisoned alcohol (check out paragraph five for specifics). If you ban something off the archive it'll still show up there, it just won't be tagged, so instead of a bag labeled "dead dove, do not eat" you just step on a land mine in your kitchen. AI prose is not content in the way that say incest or underage sex is; I'm against banning those as well, but at least with those you can pretty clearly say "yes this is" or "no this isn't" based on objective criteria. You can't do that with "was this made by a human or a machine" when it comes to prose.

Which leads to the second issue: if a text is reported as AI-generated and the author says "No, I wrote that," how do you prove otherwise? If you report an author for uploading AI-generated prose, all that will happen is either they just say "No, I wrote that" or someone on AO3's abuse team unilaterally decides that yes, this is AI prose, and punts someone off the website who might just be kind of a crap writer, which is not a sin or a crime. Either way it's a waste of time. So introducing a ban on AI prose is really just introducing either a useless show-law that will still cause AI prose to be posted there, just without proper tagging, or a tool to harass people with. Harassment is already an issue on the archive.

And we can reason all this out for ourselves simply by asking "What is the good-faith reason for not banning AI prose?" Assuming good faith isn't just for blindly trusting, after all; it's also for reasoning out other peoples' motivations for things.

And frankly fandom gets a little weird about assuming bad faith when it comes to anyone who has the least bit of power within the community. It's something I've encountered personally, as someone with some clout in fandom who is occasionally assumed to have weirdly malevolent intent. I'm not malicious. I'm just an awkward dumbass. But this is just something fandom does, so it's also good to check oneself and go, "Hey, is this person being genuinely malevolent or am I just assuming wickedness because it's easier to be mad at a villain than to explore the complexities of these acts?"

It's why I deliberately didn't speculate about the person who uploaded an AI fanfic and didn't respond to others doing so in comments. That person is right there. You don't have to assume any intent at all, you can just ask them. And it's so much more educational to do so!

So yeah, actually real props to whoever wrote that post by the OTW -- it's internally logical, reasonably transparent, simply written, and avoids a lot of prose pitfalls that I would absolutely fall into (did fall into, in this very post). I think within this area, they are doing what they can to prevent scraping and making the correct decisions, for now, regarding AI content on the archive.