#supply chain orchestration

[procurement-insights]

What is "Supply Chain Orchestration?"

On April 23rd, Vineet Khanna, the former Global Head of Supply Chain at Nestlé, will share his roadmap to Supply Chain Orchestration Success. In the meantime, these are my thoughts; please share yours. Here is an excerpt from a post I wrote in 2007 about Supply Chain Orchestration – back then, we referred to it as agent-based modelling within a dynamic Metaprise – https://bit.ly/3Q2fLpQ “In…

[awlusa]

What Is End To End Logistics & Supply Chain Solutions?

In today's rapidly evolving and highly competitive business landscape, companies understand the critical role that efficient supply chain management plays in gaining a competitive edge. Among the various approaches available, one that has gained significant attention is the implementation of end-to-end logistics and supply chain solutions. These comprehensive solutions cover the entire spectrum of the supply chain process, starting from raw material sourcing all the way to the final product delivery. The primary objective of these solutions is to optimize operational efficiency, drive cost reduction, and enhance customer satisfaction. In this blog, we will take a deep dive into the concept of end-to-end logistics and supply chain solutions, shedding light on its definition, key components, benefits, and effective implementation strategies. By exploring these aspects, businesses can gain valuable insights into how they can leverage end-to-end solutions to elevate their supply chain management practices and achieve sustainable success in today's dynamic marketplace.

Definition of End-to-End Logistics & Supply Chain Solutions

End-to-end logistics and supply chain solutions encompass the comprehensive integration and management of all activities involved in the supply chain process, from procurement to distribution. This holistic approach covers a wide range of functions, including procurement, production, inventory management, transportation, warehousing, and customer service. The overarching goal is to optimize the flow of goods, information, and funds throughout the supply chain, ensuring smooth coordination and collaboration among all stakeholders. By leveraging advanced technologies and strategic planning, businesses can achieve end-to-end visibility, transparency, and control over their supply chain operations.

This allows for better demand forecasting, improved inventory management, efficient order fulfillment, reduced lead times, and enhanced customer service. Moreover, end-to-end solutions enable businesses to identify bottlenecks, streamline processes, mitigate risks, and seize opportunities for cost savings and operational efficiencies. Ultimately, implementing end-to-end logistics and supply chain solutions empowers businesses to gain a competitive advantage by delivering products to customers faster, more reliably, and with greater customer satisfaction.

Key Components of End-to-End Logistics & Supply Chain Solutions

To fully understand end-to-end logistics and supply chain solutions, it is essential to explore the key components that make up this comprehensive approach. These components encompass critical aspects of the supply chain. Let's dive deeper into each of these components and their significance in optimizing the supply chain process. The list of the components of end to end logistics and supply chain solution is as follows:

Supply Chain Capacity Planning

Capacity planning involves analyzing and determining the resources, including production capabilities, warehouse space, and transportation capacity, required to meet demand effectively. By accurately forecasting demand and aligning it with available resources, companies can optimize their supply chain capacity and avoid bottlenecks or excess capacity.

Supply Chain Orchestration

Supply chain orchestration focuses on synchronizing and coordinating activities across different functions and entities within the supply chain. It involves real-time visibility, communication, and collaboration among suppliers, manufacturers, distributors, and retailers to ensure efficient order fulfillment and timely delivery.

Order Orchestration

Order orchestration refers to the process of managing and optimizing customer orders throughout the supply chain. It involves capturing, processing, and tracking orders, ensuring that they are fulfilled accurately and delivered on time. Order orchestration also includes managing order changes, cancellations, and returns.

RFID Warehouse Management System

RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) technology plays a crucial role in enhancing warehouse management and inventory tracking. RFID tags are attached to products or packaging, allowing for real-time identification, tracking, and monitoring of inventory. This technology improves inventory accuracy, reduces manual errors, and enables efficient order fulfillment.

F&B Supply Chain

The food and beverage (F&B) industry has unique supply chain challenges, including perishable products, stringent regulations, and complex distribution networks. End-to-end logistics and supply chain solutions for the F&B industry focus on maintaining product quality, ensuring compliance, optimizing inventory, and minimizing waste.

RFID Inventory Management

RFID technology enables efficient inventory management by providing real-time visibility into inventory levels, location, and movement. RFID tags and readers automate the tracking and monitoring of inventory, minimizing manual efforts and improving inventory accuracy. This technology also facilitates efficient stock replenishment, reduces stockouts, and enhances overall inventory control.

Fulfillment Center vs Distribution Center

While often used interchangeably, fulfillment centers and distribution centers serve different purposes in the supply chain. A fulfillment center is a facility dedicated to e-commerce order fulfillment, involving activities such as picking, packing, and shipping. On the other hand, a distribution center focuses on receiving, storing, and redistributing products to retail locations or other distribution centers.

Ecommerce Fulfillment Services India

India's booming e-commerce market has led to the emergence of specialized fulfillment service providers. These companies offer end-to-end fulfillment solutions, including warehousing, order processing, inventory management, and last-mile delivery, catering to the unique needs of e-commerce businesses in India.

Benefits of End-to-End Logistics & Supply Chain Solutions

Implementing end-to-end logistics and supply chain solutions offers several benefits for businesses. By streamlining and integrating various supply chain processes, companies can enhance operational efficiency, reduce costs, improve customer satisfaction, and gain a competitive edge in the market. Let's explore the list of significant advantages that businesses can derive from adopting end-to-end logistics and supply chain solutions:

Improved Efficiency

By streamlining processes, optimizing inventory levels, and enhancing coordination among supply chain partners, end-to-end solutions improve overall operational efficiency. This leads to reduced lead times, faster order fulfillment, and improved customer satisfaction.

Cost Reduction

Effective supply chain management helps identify cost-saving opportunities, such as optimizing transportation routes, reducing inventory holding costs, and minimizing stock outs or overstock situations. By eliminating inefficiencies and enhancing resource utilization, businesses can achieve significant cost reductions.

Enhanced Customer Service

End-to-end solutions enable better visibility and control over the supply chain, resulting in improved customer service. Companies can provide accurate order tracking, faster delivery, and proactive communication, meeting customer expectations and building long-term loyalty.

Agility and Flexibility

End-to-end solutions empower businesses to respond quickly to changing market demands and unforeseen disruptions. With better visibility and coordination, companies can adapt their supply chain processes, reroute shipments, and manage inventory effectively to minimize the impact of disruptions and maintain a competitive edge.

Competitive Advantage

By optimizing the entire supply chain, businesses gain a competitive advantage in the market. Efficient supply chain management enables cost leadership, faster time-to-market, and the ability to meet customer demands promptly, setting businesses apart from their competitors.

Implementing End-to-End Logistics & Supply Chain Solutions

To implement end-to-end logistics and supply chain solutions effectively, businesses should consider the following steps:

Assess Current Supply Chain- Conduct a comprehensive analysis of the existing supply chain processes, identifying bottlenecks, inefficiencies, and areas for improvement.

Collaborate with Partners- Establish strong relationships and collaboration with suppliers, manufacturers, distributors, and other supply chain partners to ensure seamless coordination and information sharing.

Invest in Technology- Leverage advanced technologies such as supply chain management software, RFID systems, and analytics tools to enable real-time visibility, data-driven decision-making, and process automation.

Continuous Improvement- Implement a culture of continuous improvement, regularly evaluating performance metrics, monitoring market trends, and making necessary adjustments to optimize supply chain operations.

Partner with Experts- Consider partnering with experienced logistics and supply chain service providers who specialize in end-to-end solutions. These experts can bring in-depth industry knowledge, expertise, and resources to drive efficient and effective supply chain management.

Conclusion

In conclusion, adopting end-to-end logistics and supply chain solutions is a strategic move for businesses seeking to optimize their operations, enhance customer satisfaction, and gain a competitive advantage. By integrating key components such as supply chain capacity planning, supply chain orchestration, order orchestration, and RFID warehouse management systems, companies can achieve improved efficiency, cost reduction, and enhanced customer service. This is particularly relevant in specialized industries like F&B, where tailored solutions are essential. With the support of experienced partners like AWL, businesses can navigate the complexities of implementing end-to-end solutions and leverage their expertise to drive success in today's dynamic and competitive business environment. By embracing end-to-end logistics and supply chain solutions, companies can transform their supply chain processes and position themselves for long-term growth and sustainability.

Source : https://www.awlindia.com/us-en/blog-details/what-is-end-to-end-logistics-supply-chain-solutions

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part six: don't blink

word count: 1.7k

warnings: drugs, guns, etc.

five | six | seven

The meeting took place in the dead of night. The warehouse reeked of oil and salt, the kind of place that had seen more quiet deals than loud violence—but only because Lando made sure it stayed that way. The nondescript building sat on the outskirts of the city, just far enough from prying eyes but still close enough to keep the supply chain moving. The docks were always a safe bet for these types of transactions, close enough to escape routes, far enough from prying eyes. It wasn’t the usual spot—Lando never used the same place twice for transactions of this scale — but it served its purpose tonight.

Inside, the heavy industrial lights cast an eerie glow over the concrete floor, highlighting the long steel table in the center. Atop it, neatly packaged in vacuum-sealed pouches, sat the newest product in Lando’s empire—a refined, near-clinical version of what the market had been fumbling toward for years. It was stronger, purer, and unlike anything available right now.

And more importantly, it was safe. Or at least, as safe as a drug could be when it was designed to rewrite the limits of what the human body could handle. Something that, if handled properly, would flood the market with unprecedented demand.

Lando had spent months orchestrating this—choosing the right chemists, ensuring purity, eliminating leaks before they could even think about forming. He wasn’t a fool. He knew power came not from quantity, but from control.

And this? This was control.

Max Fewtrell stood at his right, an ever-watchful shadow, while Max Verstappen lingered a few paces to Lando’s left, arms crossed, looking like he was waiting for someone to make the mistake of pissing him off. Fewtrell looked around, scanning everything, analyzing, making sure no one got ideas. Verstappen stood like a coiled spring, ready to break someone’s skull if necessary.

Lando stood at the head of the table, calm, collected, hands resting idly in the pockets of his suit. Across from him was his contact, a man from overseas — tall, well-dressed, sharp-eyed, but ultimately an opportunist. Someone looking for power more than longevity.

Lando had no interest in short-sighted men. But he did have an interest in control. And control meant making sure this product made it into the right hands at the right time.

As Lando gave him a once over, stormy dark eyes seemingly pulling him apart, their prospective buyer shifted uneasily. He was flanked by two of his own men, the display a blatant attempt at controlling the situation, but they weren’t the ones in control of this meeting.

Lando was. He always was.

One of the men—a middle-aged bastard with a scar cutting across his cheek — nodded to a subordinate, who stepped forward with a case of cash.

Max Fewtrell took a measured step closer, his presence a warning. On Lando’s other side, Max Verstappen cracked his knuckles, a silent promise of what would happen if things went sideways. Lando had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

Overdramatic idiot, that one.

But above, unseen, Oscar Piastri watched through the scope of his rifle.

Lando never did these deals without oversight. Oscar – Wink, as the underworld called him, was Lando’s insurance. If anything went wrong, if anyone tried to play games, one silent shot from above would be the last thing they ever experienced. The last thing they’d see would be a single eye peering at them through the scope of a sniper.

Well, they don’t call him Wink for nothing.

“I hear impressive things,” the Austrian man said, tapping a knuckle against one of the pouches. His accent was thick but precise, every syllable measured. “But impressive means nothing until I see it work.”

Lando tilted his head, glancing toward Max Fewtrell, who stood just behind him, quiet but ever-watchful. Max understood without a word, stepping forward to grab a small plastic bag filled with an off-white powder – Noxium.

“We tested it in-house,” Lando said smoothly. “With results that exceeded expectations. But I understand your need for proof.” He gestured lightly. “You brought someone, I assume?”

The man snapped his fingers, and from behind him, one of his own men stepped forward—less polished, more desperate. 

A junkie, most likely. Someone easy to replace.

Lando despised that kind of recklessness. Still, he made no move to stop it.

Max Fewtrell handed over the packet, and within seconds, the man across from him was watching closely as his disposable lackey took the dose. The reaction was immediate—a sharp inhale, eyes dilating, spine straightening. Then a slow, reverent exhale as the effects settled.

No seizures. No convulsions. No overdose.

Just control.

The businessman, Toto, grinned widely. “Very nice.”

The truth was, this new strain wasn’t just stronger. It was the kind of product that would put every other supplier out of business. It hit hard, but clean. No messy overdoses, no unpredictability. Hard to mimic but easy to use – making it the perfect competitive advantage in a market that Lando Norris technically wasn’t supposed to touch.

But who the hell was going to stop him?

Toto exhaled, considering. “You understand, of course, that something this pure will draw attention.”

“Everything worthwhile does,” Lando replied. “The question is whether you want to be the one profiting from it.”

Toto studied him, weighing his options. He wasn’t stupid, so he knew Lando didn’t ask for business. He chose his partners.

Still, the older man had to push.

“Your rules,” Toto said carefully. “They limit the market.”

Lando didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

“No kids,” he said, voice calm. Absolute. “No collateral.”

Toto tilted his head. “You could make twice as much if you loosened those restrictions.”

Lando’s fingers drummed once against the table before he leaned forward. The shift was subtle, but the air in the room seemed to constrict.

“I could kill you right now,” Lando murmured, voice dangerously light. “And still make twice as much. Yet here we are, hm?”

The silence that stretched suddenly felt a lot cooler. Slowly, carefully, the older man exhaled and sat back. “Understood.”

Lando’s lips barely curved. He already knew the deal was done. “Under my rules then,” he emphasized.

The man blinked. “Excuse me?”

Lando stepped forward, slow and deliberate, voice even but laced with something cold underneath.

“You don’t sell to kids,” he said. “You don’t cut it with your own shit to stretch it. And you don’t move it anywhere I don’t want it going.” He tilted his head, gaze unwavering. “Break one of those, and we have a problem.”

The man’s jaw tightened. “You don’t make it easy, do you?”

Lando smiled, before leaning close to whisper in Toto’s ear. “I don’t have to.”

A tense silence settled.

“I suppose we have a deal, then.”

Lando’s gaze flickered to the case of cash. Max Fewtrell bent down, inspecting it with practiced precision before giving a short nod.

All clear.

But just as Toto was about to extend his hand, another man — young, overeager, stupid—stepped forward.

“We’ll need more,” Antonelli said abruptly. “Bigger shipments. Faster turnaround.”

Lando lifted a brow. “That’s not how I operate.”

The young man, Kimi, scoffed. “We are paying. You work on our timeline.”

The air in the warehouse shifted.

Lando exhaled slowly, then took a single step forward, close enough that the other man realized too late the mistake he had made.

“My business,” Lando said, voice deceptively calm, “runs on my terms. You want my product, you're gonna haf'ta play by my rules.” He tilted his head slightly. “And my first rule?”

A beat of silence.

Then, coolly, “No selling to fucking kids.”

The young man stiffened.

Lando’s expression didn’t change, but there was something dangerous in his eyes. The kind of look that made men rethink their decisions.

“Anyone caught selling to them?” Lando continued. “Well.” He smiled, slow and sharp. “You saw what happened to the last guy.”

Silence. “So you can imagine,” Lando paused, absentmindedly flicking a spec of dirt from underneath his fingernail, “what happens who don’t know their fucking place.”

After a long pause, Toto chuckled, clapping a hand on the young Kimi’s shoulder. “You heard the man. We can do things his way.”

Kimi swallowed hard, and nodded once.

Lando let the tension hang for another second, then stepped back, returning to his usual, composed demeanor.

Max Verstappen leaned in slightly, voice lowered. “That one’s a problem.”

“Not yet,” Lando murmured, before stepping forward to finally seal this deal and get out of here. But before they could shake on it, a sound crackled softly through Lando’s earpiece — an almost imperceptible click.

A warning.

Only one person in the world used that signal.

Oscar Piastri was positioned on the rooftops, hidden beneath the shadows, his scope trained on the situation below. He had been silent the whole night—calm, efficient, watching. If he was speaking now, even in code, it meant something was wrong.

Lando’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers flexed slightly beside his pocket, a miniscule twitch unnoticeable to the untrained eye — his own silent response.

Oscar’s voice crackled in his ear, barely above a whisper.

“Two behind. Not ours.”

Lando didn’t hesitate. His gaze slid to Max Verstappen, who had already straightened, fingers flexing at his side where his gun rested beneath his jacket.

Lando turned back to his guest, expression eerily even, his mouth pressed into a straight line as he tilted his head and glared daggers into them. “Seems we have company.”

The man blinked, then frowned, about to speak—

Thwip.

A muffled thud. A body crumpling behind the foreigner before the sound of the suppressed shot could even settle.

Oscar didn’t miss.

Before the second intruder could react, Max Verstappen was already moving. He didn’t hesitate—just swung around and fired a single, deafening shot. The second man collapsed, and the room fell into stillness.

Lando exhaled slowly, deliberately, before turning back to his guest.

“As I was saying,” he continued smoothly, as if nothing had happened, “control is everything.” He eyed the now pale-faced man across from him. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

A beat.

Toto swallowed thickly and had no choice but to nod. “Y-Yes,” he stammered. “Yes, of course.”

Lando smiled, but it was colder than any smirk could have hoped to have been. 

“Good, so we understand each other then!” he said, voice full of faux politeness. Dark brown eyes hardened as his smile turned into a sneer.

Bastards, the lot of them.

“Pleasure doin' business with you.”

[reality-detective]

I think I posted this 👇 before, but this NEEDS to circulate...

🚨ALERT: FBI UNCOVERS HUMAN REMAINS IN MCDONALD’S MEAT SUPPLY? THE DARK TRUTH YOU WON’T BELIEVE

The FBI just uncovered something straight out of a nightmare: human remains found at a Detroit business tied to McDonald’s meat supply. This isn’t just another rumor – it’s a revelation that could shake the fast-food industry to its core and expose the darkest side of the American food chain.

What’s Happening?

A routine investigation spiraled into a horror show when the FBI stumbled upon boxes of human body parts at a business that allegedly supplies meat to McDonald’s. This isn’t a simple case of spoiled meat—this is far more sinister. Human remains, body parts, and a twisted network of illegal activity now at the forefront of this explosive story. If true, this means millions of Americans could have unknowingly consumed products from a supply chain tainted with human remains.

Corruption Behind the Funeral Industry

It doesn’t stop there. The business at the heart of this scandal, International Biological, is more than just a medical supplier. It’s allegedly been illegally trafficking human body parts for years, all under the guise of education and medical purposes. And who’s behind this? Art Rathburn, a mortician licensed in Michigan for over 30 years, now exposed as the orchestrator of this gruesome operation.

What Does This Mean for You?

Let’s be real: if these remains made it into the food chain, this is the biggest scandal McDonald’s has ever faced. The implications? Terrifying. Think about the consequences of human remains mixing into what’s supposed to be your fast-food meal. This isn't just a fast-food issue; it’s a wake-up call to rethink everything we trust about the food industry.

The Truth is Unfolding, And It’s Darker Than You Think

The FBI is still piecing this together, but what we know now should have every American questioning the integrity of what’s really on their plate. Is this just one supplier, or are there more secrets buried in the fast-food empire? 🤔

[asiantransformations]

Prologue - A Deal with the Devil

Mr. Chen sat at his grand mahogany desk, the faint glow of his jade desk lamp casting sharp shadows across his angular features. In one hand, he swirled a glass of aged whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light as he leaned back in his chair. Before him lay a file marked Confidential—a dossier on JunHao, the man who had once been an untouchable icon of success, strength, and masculinity.

“JunHao,” Mr. Chen murmured, savoring the name like a delicacy. “You had it all, didn’t you? A thriving business, a loving girl, and a body that could make even gods envious.”

He glanced at the photo pinned to the top of the file. There JunHao stood, shirtless on a magazine cover, his sculpted physique the picture of perfection. The biceps that could stretch the seams of any suit, the chiseled abs, the confident smile—it all reeked of success, of invincibility. But Mr. Chen saw something else. Ambition. Greed. A man who had soared so high he never bothered to look down.

And that was where Mr. Chen came in.

He had orchestrated the entire downfall with surgical precision. Junhao’s business, a chain of high-end fitness centers, had been booming. But like many businessmen who thought themselves untouchable, JunHao had been careless with his partnerships. He hadn’t noticed when a shell company, quietly owned by Mr. Chen, began acquiring shares in his supply chain. He hadn’t realized when critical shipments of equipment were delayed or canceled, choking his operations.

Then came the financial strain, and with it, the loans.

“Desperate men make desperate decisions,” Mr. Chen muttered to himself, taking a sip of whiskey. He remembered the day JunHao had walked into his office, his broad shoulders weighed down by stress, his usual aura of confidence cracked.

“I need a loan,” JunHao had said, his deep voice betraying a hint of desperation.

Mr. Chen had leaned back in his chair, feigning concern. “A loan, you say? From me? The terms would have to be… unconventional.”

JunHao had hesitated, but he was a man with his back against the wall. He had signed the contract without reading the fine print. It was a devil’s bargain, one that Mr. Chen had designed with a very specific clause: in the event of the business fails, all of JunHao’s assets—all of them—would transfer to Mr. Chen.

It wasn’t just the gyms. Not just the properties or the accounts. It was everything JunHao had. Without him realizing, it included his body and the ownership to it.

————————————————————————

The collapse had been swift. Within months, Junhao’s business was in shambles. The loans he had taken to save it became an anchor, dragging him further into the abyss. And when the inevitable happened—when Junhao defaulted—Mr. Chen made his move.

He had summoned Junhao to his private estate, the contract in hand. Junhao, now a shadow of his former self, stood in the opulent office, his powerful frame visibly worn by stress. "Guess your business failed and everything of yours is now mine!"

“You can’t do this,” Junhao had growled, his fists clenched.

“Oh, but I can,” Mr. Chen had replied, his tone calm and cold. “You signed the contract. You agreed to the terms.”

“I’ll fight this in court!”

Mr. Chen had chuckled darkly. “You won’t get the chance. The clause is binding, immediate, and irrevocable. I don’t just own your business, Junhao. I own you.”

Before Junhao could react, Mr. Chen had signaled to his guards. They restrained the struggling man as Mr. Chen retrieved a small vial from his desk—a blend of ancient Chinese alchemy and cutting-edge bioengineering.

“This,” Mr. Chen said, holding the vial up to the light, “is your key to freedom—or, rather, mine.”

Junhao’s eyes had widened as the liquid was injected into his neck. He had thrashed against the guards’ grip, but it was no use. The process was instantaneous. A searing pain had coursed through his veins as his consciousness was pulled away from his body, drawn into a swirling void.

When Junhao woke, he found himself in a frail, elderly body, his once-pristine physique now a distant memory. Across the room, Mr. Chen stood in front of a mirror, marveling at his new form.

“This… is perfection,” Mr. Chen had said, flexing his biceps and running his hands over his chiseled abs. He turned to face Junhao, a smirk playing on his lips. “You should be proud, Junhao. Your body will be put to far better use in my hands.”

Junhao had screamed, lunging at Mr. Chen, but his new, weakened body betrayed him. The guards dragged him away as Mr. Chen laughed, his deep, commanding voice echoing through the halls.

“You should have read the fine print, Junhao,” Mr. Chen had called after him. “You’ve given me everything. And I do mean everything.”

Mr. Chen stepped out of the private chambers in only his underwear, feeling the weight of JunHao's powerful form. His every movement felt fluid, controlled, and effortless. It was a far cry from the frail, aging shell he had once inhabited. As he walked down the hallway, he marveled at the strength that now surged through his limbs, the sensation of each muscle flexing with the slightest movement.

He flexed his biceps—massive, round, and hard as stone—and let out a deep, satisfied breath. It was like a drug, this power. His former body, though fit, had never compared to the raw might he now commanded. These arms—these biceps—could easily crush anyone who dared to oppose him. The veins that snaked across his skin pulsed with vitality, evidence of his newfound strength. Every push, every pull, every lift was easier now, as if the world itself bent to his will.

He grinned, eyes tracing the contours of his new physique in the mirror as he walked past. The chest—wide, firm, and densely packed with muscle—caught his attention. His pecs were like slabs of stone, firm and unyielding, pressing against the tight shirt he had chosen to wear. When he flexed, the movement was hypnotic, a showcase of sheer power. The depth of his ribcage felt more pronounced, the muscles more pronounced, each fiber finely sculpted to perfection. He could feel the strength of his lungs, the way they expanded and contracted with ease, fueling his movements.

His mind raced with the possibilities. In this body, he was capable of feats that would’ve been impossible in his former, weaker form. There was no limit to what he could do, no obstacle he couldn’t crush beneath his new strength. He felt like a god, a man whose very presence commanded the room. Every glance from a passerby, every flicker of acknowledgment from those around him—he could see the admiration, the envy, the lust in their eyes.

But it wasn’t just the physicality that set this body apart. It was the knowledge embedded in every fiber, every cell of this machine.

Now, Mr. Chen stood in front of the mirror in JunHao's—his— gym, his reflection a living testament to his triumph. He flexed his biceps, marveling at their sheer size and power, and smirked as he ran his fingers down the ridges of his abs. His servants were in awe of what he attained.

“This body,” he said to himself, his voice rich and resonant, “isn’t just a vessel. It’s a weapon. A masterpiece.”

Mr. Chen lifted the weight, a staggering amount, effortlessly. As the barbell rose and fell in perfect rhythm, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. Every inch of JunHao’s body was designed for optimal performance. His shoulders were broad and thick, built for lifting, carrying, and crushing. His legs were powerful pillars of strength, veins and tendons twisting beneath the skin as they absorbed the pressure with ease. His calves were muscular and solid, able to sprint for miles without tiring, propelling him forward with each step.

He was a walking weapon—a machine capable of destruction.

The gift of virility was perhaps the most intoxicating. Mr. Chen had always been a man who desired control over everything, and now, he had control over the most primal part of his new form. He could feel the sheer force of Junhao’s masculinity coursing through him, the power in his loins that seemed to radiate outward, a constant hum of energy that never faded. His once-feeble self had known nothing of this.

This was a different kind of strength.

It wasn’t just about physical satisfaction. It was about dominance—asserting control over the very essence of another person. The body’s virility wasn’t a mere function of attraction; it was a weapon, a means of asserting his superiority, of owning and controlling.

The mind that came with this body was just as powerful as its physical form. Junhao’s intelligence had been sharp—business savvy, ruthless in his own right. But now, those instincts and ideas had become Mr. Chen’s. He could feel it—the knowledge embedded deep within the muscle, the experience that came from years of competition, of pushing himself to the limits. Every decision Junhao had made, every business deal, every negotiation—it was all there, like an archive waiting to be unlocked.

Mr. Chen felt as though he were walking in the footsteps of a man who had already laid the path for success. Every strategy, every move he needed to make, was now at his fingertips. JunHao’s thoughts, his methodical and strategic way of thinking, now surged through Mr. Chen’s mind as though they had always been his own.

He could feel the instinctual knowledge of how to read people, how to control a room, how to exploit weaknesses. His ability to manipulate, to strategize, to make others bow to his will—it was second nature now.

Every touch felt electric, as if JunHao's body was awakening to its new owner, recalibrating itself to fit Mr. Chen like a finely tailored suit. Every nerve ending seemed to buzz, hyperaware of his movements, responding to his commands with an eagerness that was both exhilarating and addictive.

Running his hands over his chest, Mr. Chen marveled at the power beneath his fingertips. The solid ridges of muscle, the soft yet firm hairs brushing against his palms-it was all so alive. His previous body had been stiff, sluggish, and unresponsive, a constant reminder of his age. But this? This was perfection incarnate, and it responded to him like a finely tuned instrument.

He progressed to his bedroom and then on the full-length mirror that dominated the corner of his suite, captivated by the sight before him. Mr. Chen wanted to explore this new opportunity in private. As he flexed, his reflection seemed to shimmer with vitality, every muscle rippling beneath his skin in perfect harmony. The sheer control he had over this body was intoxicating.

But then, something unexpected happened.

A faint warmth began to build, spreading through him like a slow burn. It started in his chest, radiating downward with an intensity that took his breath away. By the time he noticed the faint wet spot forming on his underwear, it was too late to deny it-this body wasn't just alive; it was thriving, responding to his every whim with an energy that left him breathless.

"This... this is something else," he murmured, a grin spreading across his face as he pressed his palm against the damp patch, feeling the heat beneath. "You've really outdone yourself, JunHao."

Rather than being embarrassed, Mr. Chen reveled in the sensation. He let the feeling wash over him, leaning into the raw vitality that coursed through his veins. He flexed again, harder this time, watching in awe as his biceps bulged, veins snaking across his forearms like rivers of power. Mr. Chen moaned every so loudly as he groped his new cock. The wet patch grew slightly, and he couldn't help but laugh -a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the room.

"This is what it means to feel alive," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "This is what I've been missing."

He sat on the edge of the bed, letting his hands roam freely, exploring every inch of his new form. The hard planes of his chest, the taut curve of his thighs, the firmness of his calves-each touch sent a jolt of pleasure through him. It was as if the body itself was rejoicing, celebrating its new owner with a symphony of sensations.

After a few minutes of indulgence, Mr. Chen was covered in JunHao's precious juices which reeked of testosterone, a testament to the new virility. A taste of it sent shockwaves of energy and flavors to his tongue as he forced himself to stand, steadying his breathing as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. He wasn't going to let this body overwhelm him-not yet, anyway. There was so much to explore, so much to discover, and he wanted to savor every moment.

He changed into fresh clothes, opting for a tight-fitting shirt that showcased his physique and a pair of jeans that accentuated his powerful legs. As he left the room, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror one last time and couldn't help but to pose what he had.

"Let's see what else this body can do," he said to himself, stepping out into the night, ready to test the limits of his newfound strength and charm.

Next Part

[malamilkbeats]

Ink Meister

Such a swell guy. You can trust him with your tax information.

His name "Cirque Lire" emphasizes his connection to reading, information, and perhaps... manipulation of knowledge (which ties into his ink abilities and courtly intrigue). "Lire" (meaning "to read" in French) fits well with his cunning nature—someone who "reads" people, situations, and texts to his advantage.

Cirque Lire

Orientation: Aromantic

Gender: Male

Age: 27 (once appointed) 45 (currently)

Alignment: Lawful Neutral to Lawful Evil

Cirque Lire's ink abilities and how he uses them:

His ability to manipulate ink could extend far beyond just composing music; he could use it as a weapon in more subtle ways, especially in a court filled with intrigue and deception.

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

Cirque Lire's fingertips sway as liquid shadows dance to the silent melody of his mind. With a twist of his hand, the ink dispersed into familiar calligraphy on the parchment before him. A royal decree—one that had never been written by the King's own hand, yet bore his perfect signature and seal.

Another masterpiece of forgery.

Another stride forward.

To the court, Cirque Lire was a master composer, a patron of the arts, a nobleshape whose ink created symphonies that moved the soul. His charisma was like a spell of its own; his honeyed words wove through courtly banter to ensure that his name was spoken with admiration and trust. But beneath the polish lurked a careful orchestrator of downfall—a man who knew that true power was not just taken with brute force but cultivated through deception, reputation, and carefully placed words.

His ink was his greatest weapon. One touch and he could rewrite the records or history, craft messages that shattered alliances. It's proven one letter would unmake a man – though, of course, no one could ever substantiate such charges. His talent for manipulation was subtle, a ripple in still water that never came back to him as the source. It never dirtied his own hands; it was the rumors, as well as the court that tore itself apart over trumped-up scandals while he stood above it all.

Lire did not merely ruin reputations—he got something out of it. A disgraced noble meant lands and titles went up for sale, assets were sanctioned, and his debts were called in. With his influence, he ensured that those desperate enough would turn to him for aid, signing away their wealth in return for salvation he never truly intended to give. A true robber barron in the making. He would orchestrate financial ruin, the buy out their holdings for a fraction of their worth to supply his own allies, growing his fortune while his targets dwindled to nothing. Shapes who owed him were never **truly** free, bound by invisible chains of obligation and debt that he tightened at his leisure.

He was politically keen enough to know the importance of positioning; he whispered advice into the ears of the right shapes, offering solutions to problems he himself had quietly created. His influence spread like ink upon a page, whereby ministers and lords alike depended upon his counsel. He did not need to raise a blade; he merely needed the right words, the right moment, and the right target. And when lords and ministries were under turmoil, Cirque Lire stood untouched, ever the benefactor of chaos.

Concavex, his daughter, was both his greatest asset and his biggest obstacle. She had been the simple key to his ascension, her telepathic abilities a tool he wielded with precision. The court was in strange fear, fearing what she would reveal. But Cirque Lire? He had molded her into something greater, something useful. She was his unseen eyes and ears, whether she wanted to be or not.

“Read them now,” Cirque would murmur while they sat among the masked smiles of the nobles. And Concavex would begrudgingly follow his command, her mind brushing against the thoughts of unsuspecting men and women too foolish to guard themselves. Through the insights, Cirque would know who was weak, who had doubt, who could be influenced given the proper incentive or broken with the right rumor.

[k-nayee]

CHAPTER 13. FORGED IN BATTLE

❝In the crucible of war, friendships become unbreakable bonds.❞

Warrior M.List | Act Ⅱ

Previous | Next

˚＊˚✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ⚔️・⚔️・⚔️・⚔️・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ˚＊˚

War on Troy: Year 3

Two years had passed since the Greeks’ arrival at Troy. The days blurred into a monotonous cycle of skirmishes and strategies, both sides locked in a bloody stalemate.

Neither side had gained an upper hand, and though you and Penelope had done all within your power to tip the scales, the walls of Troy still stood firm against the Achaean assault.

Much of that resilience came from their champions. Hector, Paris, and Aeneas; the unyielding pillars of Trojan defense.

Their leadership on the battlefield was unparalleled.

On more than one occasion you had caught glimpses of them amidst the chaos of battle: Hector, wielding his spear like a force of nature; Paris, his arrows deadly and precise; Aeneas, orchestrating the Trojan ranks with a strategist’s precision.

Unfortunately there was never time to linger. Every fleeting glance was followed by the clash of Trojan steel and the need to fight for survival.

The Ithacan forces had held their own under Penelope’s leadership. Your strategies with her commands were brilliant, and her ability to inspire unwavering.

Yet the sheer size and strength of Troy’s army—and the aid of their Gods—had stymied even the best of plans.

Amidst the ceaseless struggle, Achilles and Patroclus had found new ways to irritate and amuse you. Their flirtations had become a constant backdrop to the war, their teases ranging from playful to shameless.

“Another flawless strike.” Patroclus’ voice broke through the roar of the battlefield, his tone rich with mock admiration. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were trying to impress me.”

You didn’t bother to look up from where you stood, your sword buried deep in the chest of a fallen Trojan. “Flawless would mean no blood on my armor,” you replied dryly. “Which means you’re not paying attention.”

From the corner of your eye you saw Achilles approach, his golden hair catching the sunlight like a beacon. “Oh he’s paying attention,” he said with a grin, his voice booming with laughter. “Trust me.”

You sighed, pulling your blade free with a sharp tug. “Don’t you two have your own battles to fight?”

“Consider this one ours,” Achilles said, leaning casually on his spear. His green eyes sparkled with amusement. “It’s not every day we get to see such beauty and strength in action.”

“And yet here you are. Every day.”

Patroclus chuckled, stepping closer with a mock look of seriousness. “What can we say? You’re irresistible.”

You’d rolled your eyes but there was no malice in it. For all their antics, you knew they respected your boundaries—and perhaps even admired your loyalty to the Ithacan Royals.

That didn’t stop them from trying though.

When Penelope finally permitted Achilles to take you along on a campaign to raid nearby towns and disrupt Troy’s supply chains, it had almost felt like a reprieve from their constant attention.

Almost.

The campaign was brutal. Each raid was a calculated blow to Troy’s resources, a necessary evil in the grand scheme of war.

Achilles led his men with ruthless efficiency, dismantling supply lines and leaving destruction in their wake. But the aftermath of these raids was where the ugliness of war truly revealed itself.

Towns were left in ruins, their people broken and desperate while women were taken as spoils of war, a grim reminder of the cost of victory.

Among the Ithacan forces such acts were rare.

Perhaps it was respect for you and Penelope, or perhaps it was fear of the sharp consequences you had made abundantly clear.

You had learned to keep your head down in these moments, knowing that drawing attention to every injustice could spark discord among the already volatile Greek forces.

But there were times when you could not—would not—stay silent.

“Leave her alone,” you snarled at a soldier who had cornered a terrified woman during one raid.

The man had sneered, his grip tightening on the woman’s arm. “What’s it to you?”

Without hesitation, you’d drawn your sword and leveled it at his throat. “Try me.”

The look in your eyes must have been enough because he’d released the woman and backed away, muttering curses under his breath.

You had used your sword more than once, standing between a trembling woman and the leering eyes of a soldier. You had struck without hesitation when a man became too rough, his grip leaving bruises on skin that had already suffered enough.

Some whispered about you after those moments. Others grew wary.

The whispers turned into warnings and the warnings turned into fear. It was well known among your men that to cross you in such matters was to risk a swift and brutal end.

“Stay away from the women,” you had overheard one Myrmidon soldier mutter to another during the aftermath of a raid. “She'd gut a man for less.”

The other soldier had nodded, his expression grim. “Saw what she did to one of Agamemnon’s men. Didn’t even flinch.”

They were right. You hadn’t.

Your sword had been swift, your anger sharper. The man had dared to test you, his drunken laughter turning to screams as your blade found its mark.

You didn't care about his rank nor the consequences.

War was chaos, and if anyone thought that gave them free rein to harm the innocent, they would find themselves at the mercy of your fury.

Achilles, however, remained unbothered by your actions. If anything his respect for you seemed to grow, his teasing remarks often accompanied by genuine admiration.

“You’re terrifying,” he’d said, his lips curling into a grin as you cleaned the blood from your blade.

“And you’re lucky I’m on your side,” you’d replied, your tone cutting but your eyes steady.

The campaign continued—and while the strain of war weighed heavy on your shoulders, you found a strange solace in the determination to endure and to win.

══════════════˚･:*:★☽✧⚔️✧☾★:*:･˚═══════════════

The camp was quieter than usual, the absence of Achilles and the majority of the Myrmidons lending an uneasy stillness to the air.

Achilles’ temporary quarters were spacious for a war tent, yet the silence that hung between you and the young girl made it feel stiflingly small.

You sat on a low bench near a pile of furs, the battered leather bracelet Odysseus had given you resting in your lap. Your fingers worked diligently, re-threading the worn edges with care.

Beside you on a makeshift table lay a book Achilles had brought back from a raid, its spine cracked from wear but the words within invaluable.

The Art of War—a rarity that he had smugly handed to you, declaring, “A treasure for my war maiden.” His grin had been insufferable (as always).

You had rolled your eyes, muttering about how his priorities needed work, but secretly you cherished the gesture.

The quiet sound of fabric shifting made you glance up briefly. Briseis sat across the tent on a pile of cushions, her small frame curled in on itself.

At twelve she looked even younger, her wide eyes darting nervously to you, then away when she thought you might notice.

You had of course. You always did.

Without lifting your gaze from the bracelet, you broke the silence. “You’ve been staring for a while now.”

Briseis flinched at your words, her pale hands twisting in her lap as her cheeks flushed. “I-I’m sorry,” she murmured barely above a whisper.

You softened slightly and leaned back against one of the wooden beams supporting the tent. Setting the bracelet aside, you turned your full attention to her.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you said gently. “But if you have something to say, speak plainly. I prefer honesty over silence.”

She hesitated, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress tightly. When she finally spoke, her words were shaky, but her tone carried a faint edge of defiance.

“How...how do you do it?” she asked, her accent—Trojan, unmistakable—lending a melodic lilt to her words. “How can you fight alongside them? The men who…do this.” Her voice cracked and her gaze dropped to her lap.

The question struck you like a blade but you forced your voice to remain steady. “What exactly do you mean by ‘this’?”

Briseis’ head snapped up, her eyes wet with unshed tears and burning with anger.

“This!” she cried, her voice rising. “The raids. The killing. The taking. The way they look at us as if we’re nothing. How can you stand beside them and pretend you’re not like them?”

The words were like a slap. Her trembling frame, her furious tears, her small fists clenched in helpless rage—it was too familiar.

Your chest tightened as anger—directed at the men who had made her suffer and perhaps at yourself—bubbled beneath your skin.

But you held it in, taking a steadying breath before speaking. “You think I don’t know pain?” your voice was low and quiet, carring a weight that made Briseis look up.

Her tear-streaked face met your hardened gaze as you leaned forward, your elbows resting on your knees.

“Do not presume to think you know me girl,” you said, each word measured. “I know exactly what it means to be a woman in a world like this. A world where men measure your worth by what’s between your legs.”

Briseis recoiled as though struck, her eyes widening at the bitterness in your tone, but she didn’t look away.

“I fight,” you continued, your voice gaining an edge, “because I’ve been where you are. Because I’ve seen what happens when no one stands between them and their prey.”

You stood abruptly, brushing past her and motioning for her to follow. “Come with me.”

Reluctantly, Briseis rose and followed, her steps faltering as she moved into your shadow.

Together you stepped out of the tent and into the camp. The camp buzzed with activity as men milled about, their laughter and banter punctuated by the sharp clang of weapons being cleaned or repaired.

But as you strode through the rows of tents, Briseis began to notice a change.

Men who had been jeering at a group of captured women fell silent when they saw you. Their postures stiffened, and some even stepped away from the women, avoiding your gaze.

A few more abandoned whatever they were doing, their faces darkening as they retreated from your path.

Briseis clung close behind you as she held you tighter. “They’re…afraid of you,” she whispered.

“They should be,” you replied flatly.

Briseis glanced up at you, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and confusion. “But why? You’re…”

“A woman?” you finished for her, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “Exactly.”

You stopped near a group of soldiers sharpening their blades. The men immediately quieted, their eyes darting to you before returning to their work.

“You see this?” you said, your voice soft but cold. “It's not because they respect me, but because they know I won’t hesitate to end them if they cross me.”

Her lips parted, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“I can’t stop all of them,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “I can’t undo the horrors they’ve committed or save every innocent caught in their path. But in my presence, they know better.”

Briseis’ gaze dropped to the ground, her shoulders slumping. “It’s not enough,” she whispered. “It doesn’t change what they’ve done.”

“No,” you agreed. “It doesn’t. But life isn’t fair Briseis. In a world where even Goddesses are forced below their male counterparts, what power do mortal women have?”

Your bitter laugh made her flinch, but you didn’t apologize. You couldn’t.

“I fight because it’s the only way to survive,” you continued. “Because if I don’t, I’ll never see the people I love again. And if that means carrying the weight of their sins so be it. They’ll answer to Hades eventually.”

You turned your gaze toward the horizon, the setting sun casting long shadows over the camp. Your voice grew softer, almost empty. “The bloodshed. The screams. The slaughter of innocents. I hear it all Briseis. I see it all. And I’ll see it again if it means making it home.”

Briseis shivered, her wide eyes fixed on your distant stare, her mind conjuring images of her father’s tales of warriors who had seen too much.

For a moment she said nothing, her small hands clenching at her sides as if searching for strength. Then softly she asked, “How do you bear it?”

You looked down at her, your expression softening. “You don’t,” you said simply.

Before she could respond, the sound of boisterous laughter broke the tension.

“Ah! My two favorite women bonding!” A familiar voice rang out. You turned to see Achilles striding toward you.

The Son of Peleus was grinning like a fool, a sack of loot from the day’s raid slung over his shoulder.

Briseis shrank slightly behind you, but you rolled your eyes. “I’ll gut you one day, Achilles,” you muttered.

“And ruin all the fun?” he replied with mock horror. “Never.”

He clapped a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm but not unwelcome as he peered at Briseis. “You’re making an excellent mother for our daughter you know,” he teased, earning a sharp glare from you.

You rolled your eyes, flipping him a gesture that made him laugh even harder. “Go find a new hobby,” you snapped despite your tone lacking true venom.

Turning back to Briseis, you extended a hand. “Come on,” you said gently. “Let’s head back. I’ll teach you a few tricks with a knife—something to make the men think twice.”

Her hesitation melted as she placed her hand in yours. Smaller fingers tightening around yours, a hint of a smile flickered across her face.

Achilles watched you both with a soft expression, his grin never left.

In the fading light of the camp, you led Briseis back toward the tent, a strange but not unwelcome reminder that even in war, there were moments of light.

*･:*:★☽✧⚔️ BONUS ⚔️✧☾★:*:･*

The tension in the main camp was almost palpable.

A week had passed since your return, and in that time, the mood had shifted to a simmering unease.

Word of reinforcements summoned by Priam had spread quickly, casting a shadow over the Greek forces.

The arrival of Sarpedon and the Lycians, along with Thracian contingents, had bolstered Troy’s defenses, making every step forward feel like wading through mud.

It was early afternoon and the faint scent of salt from the nearby sea mingled with the earthiness of the camp.

The faint clang of smiths hammering weapons and the murmur of soldiers in the distance formed a subdued backdrop as you sat with Penelope and a handful of other Greek leaders around a rough wooden table strewn with maps and battle reports.

“Skirmishes along the River Scamander have left us at a standstill,” Ajax the Great grumbled as he leaned heavily on the table.

His broad shoulders were tense, his voice tinged with frustration. “Hector and Aeneas lead their forces with precision. We can’t seem to break their line.”

“Diomedes and I have held them off,” Penelope said, her tone calm yet firm, “but it’s a temporary solution. We need to adapt or we’ll lose ground faster than we gain it.”

She stood tall at the head of the table, her red cloak falling in perfect folds, the gold cuffs in her braids catching the faint sunlight streaming through the tent.

Her presence was magnetic, her authority unquestioned.

You leaned back in your chair, your arms crossed as your gaze flickered between the map and the leaders. “It’s not just their defenses. Priam’s reinforcements have shifted the balance. Sarpedon isn’t a fool and the Lycians fight with strategy, not brute force.”

Nestor, the elder general, stroked his beard thoughtfully. “And the Thracians?”

“They’re relentless,” your fingers tapped idly on the armrest. “But they lack discipline. They’re manageable if we can isolate them.”

Penelope nodded as she scanned the map. “Then we focus on breaking their cohesion. Ajax and Diomedes, you’ll coordinate with our forces along the Scamander. Distract Hector and Aeneas—pull their attention away from the Lycians.”

Ajax grunted in approval, his massive hand curling into a fist as he studied the map. Diomedes, seated beside him, gave a curt nod.

As the discussion continued a soft laugh drifted from a nearby tent. You glanced up, your brow arching slightly at the sound.

Patroclus.

The man had clicked with Briseis almost immediately upon your return. He treated her like a daughter, doting on her with a tenderness that seemed at odds with his role as a warrior.

She was embarrassed by his attentions, her cheeks often pink with flustered protests, but the light in her eyes told you she welcomed the care.

“Patroclus has been a surprising addition,” Penelope said softly, noticing your brief distraction.

“He’s good for her,” you replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “She’s been through enough. It’s...good that she has someone like him.”

“Kinda like us,” Penelope adds, her gaze steady as it met yours.

The words lingered between you, unspoken memories shared in the quiet weight of her tone.

Before the conversation could deepen, a messenger arrived, his face pale and drawn. “Captain Penelope,” his voice was tight with urgency. “New reports from the Scamander.”

Penelope’s gaze sharpened as she took the scroll and unrolled it swiftly. Her brow furrowed as her eyes scanned the words. “More counterattacks,” she murmured. “And Hector…he’s pushing closer to our supply lines.”

You stood, stepping closer to read over her shoulder. The tension in her posture was mirrored in your own as you processed the information. “We need to act fast,” you said, your tone low. “If we lose those lines, we lose everything.”

Penelope nodded, her jaw tightening. “Then let’s make sure we don’t.”

The meeting dissolved into action, leaders dispersing to relay new orders and strategize. Penelope turned to you, her eyes sharp but filled with unspoken trust. “We’ll discuss the details tonight. For now see to the troops.”

You gave a curt nod, your hand brushing briefly against hers—a fleeting moment of connection before you strode off into the heart of the camp.

As you passed by the tents, you spotted Patroclus crouched near a small fire, Briseis perched on a log beside him.

He was showing her something—likely another one of his stories or teachings—and her laughter, though quiet, was genuine. For a second the weight of duty was replaced by a flicker of something worth fighting for.

Then, with a steadying breath, you turned back to your task, the sounds of war creeping back into focus.

[bhuyi]

Horizon Omega

NCT DREAM

Synopsis:

In the year 2147, the Geonmu-7 Space Station orbits at the edge of human colonies, serving as a crucial supply hub for outer settlements. Captain Lee Haechan, a logistics officer with no combat experience, sees his life aboard the station as a monotonous routine—until one fateful night when an unknown force launches a sudden attack, reducing everything to ruins.

Within minutes, the commanding officers and security forces are wiped out. Haechan, now the highest-ranking survivor, is forced into leadership despite having never led a team before. Alongside a scattered group of survivors—engineers, scientists, and technicians—he must find a way to stay alive, manage the station’s dwindling resources, and uncover the truth behind the attack.

But as they attempt to send a distress signal, Haechan stumbles upon a chilling discovery: this was no random assault. Someone on board orchestrated it.

With time running out, an AI system behaving strangely, and an unseen threat lurking within the station’s remains, Haechan must rise from a mere logistics officer to a true leader. Can he and his team escape before they become the next victims?

Characters:

1. Lee Haechan – Logistics Officer & Unexpected Leader

Once a simple logistics officer managing supply chains and inventory, Haechan now finds himself the highest-ranking survivor after the attack. Though he has never led a mission before, his sharp problem-solving skills and adaptability make him the team's reluctant but essential leader. As paranoia grows within the group, he must learn to make tough decisions, trust the right people, and uncover the traitor before it’s too late.

2. Mark Lee – Chief Pilot & Navigator

One of the only surviving pilots after the attack, Mark becomes the crew’s best chance at escape. With years of experience piloting space freighters, he is tasked with repairing a damaged evacuation ship before the station collapses. However, the weight of responsibility starts to take its toll—if he fails, no one makes it out alive.

3. Na Jaemin – Chief Medic & Biotech Researcher

The station’s top medical officer, Jaemin is responsible for treating the wounded and maintaining the station’s experimental cryosleep patients. After the attack, he stumbles upon classified files hinting that the station’s secret genetic experiments may have been the real reason for the attack. Now, he must race against time to unravel the truth behind Geonmu-7’s research while keeping his teammates alive.

4. Huang Renjun – Astrophysicist & Communications Expert

An encryption specialist, Renjun discovers that all external communication has been deliberately blocked—as if someone inside doesn’t want them to call for help. As he tries to hack into the station’s systems, he begins to uncover disturbing messages that suggest the attack was planned long before it happened.

5. Lee Jeno – Head Mechanic & Weapons Specialist

Jeno, the chief engineer, is in charge of repairing the station’s power grid and defensive systems. However, as he digs deeper into the damage, he realizes some of the station’s defenses were sabotaged from the inside. With time running out, he must find a way to restore the station’s security and prepare for the next attack—because something or someone is still out there.

6. Zhong Chenle – AI Systems Engineer & Cybersecurity Expert

The station’s artificial intelligence, once designed to protect them, has begun acting unpredictably. As an AI specialist, Chenle attempts to regain control, only to discover that the system may have been altered by an unknown force. With a mix of humor and genius, he must figure out whether the AI is still an ally—or if it has turned against them.

7. Park Jisung – Explorer & Emergency Survival Specialist

Though the youngest member, Jisung is a trained space explorer familiar with extreme survival scenarios. He leads the search for hidden escape routes within the station’s abandoned sectors, but what he finds lurking in the dark makes him question whether escaping is even an option.

Themes

✔ Survival & Leadership

✔ Mystery & Intrigue

✔ Sci-Fi Horror & Action

✔ Brotherhood & Trust

This story blends sci-fi suspense, survival horror, and psychological thriller elements, perfect for fans of The Expanse, Alien, or Dead Space.

I will post the prologue and chapter 1 soon if the votes reach 5 and 3 comments.

[evita-shelby]

A tale of two Evies

or what if @novashelby 's Evelyn Shelby and Eva existed in the same universe

cw: mentions of war, refrenced child abuse, absent mother

Eva has always had a soft spot for children.

Whether it was the children in Altamira, the ones in Veracruz or the ones she met in the war. The ones who followed the army to be with their fathers and mothers who gave their all for the revolution or simply had nowhere else to go.

Polly trusts her with the Shelby children, Evelyn and Finn.

Finn who worships the ground she walks just like Oviedo ---who used to follow her like a puppy until their camps were attacked and died in Diosdado's arms--- and Evie who shares her name and an insatiable curiosity to make even a saint lose their patience.

“If you keep your plan for tomorrow you will lose your appendix, and your father will be very disappointed in you.” Eva says from the kitchen as Finn vehemently refused to participate in his niece’s scheme tomorrow.

Evie is terrible at math, had the same problem one of the girls at school had where it was just impossible for the nuns to teach her, so they just gave up. Eva is no quitter and if she could teach orphaned children to read and write in war torn Chihuaha, she could have Evelyn Shelby at least learn the basics until her father has enough money and influence to let her be a lady of leisure.

Just needed the time, patience and right set of things to help her. Oviedo learned times tables through the annoying song Eva’s governess taught her, Eva learned math with an abacus and using her infinite number of toy and other things in the nursery she shared with her cousins in Altamira. Her aunt Livia, taking the role of mother after Eva’s mother realized for the fourth time in her life that she never wanted kids, had rewarded every milestone she reached no matter how small.

Besides, Eva knew exactly what she would be tested on and even if ten-year-old Evelyn failed, she wouldn’t fail so badly. Or worse lose a fucking organ.

And so, it began.

Evelyn Shelby joins the Shelbys who found themselves embracing the lonely witch with tales of a far-off land and an endless supply of affection and gifts. Spellbound, one might say.

Spring becomes summer and summer becomes fall. Evie and Finn become regular fixtures in her life to Grace’s envy. Grace who is forbidden by Polly from getting close to the children because the witches know better than to trust someone who smells too strongly of death.

“You smell like daddy’s pillows.” Evie points out when she hugs her in greeting after being allowed to skip school as long as she stayed with her while Polly ran her errands.

So that had been who Polly wanted the satchel of sleeping scents for.

Thomas Shelby who not only eye fucks her every morning she passes by his window but sleeps over the satchel with Eva’s anise and lavender to ease his nightmares.

No wonder Grace felt so threatened by Eva even if the witch and the devil have never even spoken to each other.

“It’s a scent to keep nightmares away, would you like one, mi niña?”  the witch smiles and dismisses the little girl’s pangs of jealousy regarding her father.

Good thing Eva and Tommy were nothing but strangers even with Polly and her uncle trying their hardest to match them up.

And yet when she and Evie walk down Garrison Lane, she hears three gunshots and sees Shelby being shot near the heart. As much as the witch tries to shake off the vision, the girl notices the sudden fear and worry in her grown up friend and sets off the chain of events that leads to the last thing either adult in her life wanted.

It began with those gifts Polly had foreseen he’d need ---to make his intentions clear from that night after he survived the ambush Grace had stupidly helped Campbell orchestrate--- and ended with him taking her to the Derby and them becoming engaged less than a week later. Eva had kept him at bay the entire winter and the spring after only for June to come and have the strength of their feelings for each other breakdown each of her walls.

Now he snuck away while his daughter was asleep in his bed to be in hers and leave before Evie noticed he was gone. Strangely, the little girl has not noticed their courtship occurring under her nose and now would learn she and her father will be eloping in about two weeks.

“Do you think she’ll hate me?” Eva asks, fearing how the sting of this betrayal will hurt Evie. She adores her namesake and her namesake adores her, but its one thing being her friend and another thing becoming her mother before she’s even had the time to tell her they were courting.

“Never, she adores you.” Tommy assures her with a sweet sounding lie.

As if Evie will refuse to see her as anything else than the wicked witch stealing her father’s love from her.

Evie has never liked the idea of someone else in their lives.

They wouldn’t fit in his bed, for a start, she would be like those evil stepmothers in stories and send her far away where people will hurt her like that woman did.

Eva was like a fairy godmother, but if the fairy was also a witch who liked the color black and smelled like the little bag of sweet-smelling stuff her dad keeps under their pillows.

Mrs. Changretta, who Polly and Eva had enlisted to help her pass the school year, said Eva and her son could suit if Eva had no serious offer still. Evie didn’t know him and while she supposed Eva would want a husband, maybe Eva wanted someone who lived in Birmingham and not in America.

“So, you want her to stay too?” her dad asked as she told him about what the former schoolteacher and Aunt Pol talked about while Evie practiced her mathematics since Eva was gone for the day.

“Yeah,” Evie admitted and didn’t like that smile her dad seemed to get when they talked about or saw Eva now.

Finn had said his brother was in love with Eva and she was going to become her stepmother because Polly is never wrong when it comes to romance or so John and Arthur said.

Then she saw it, what everyone had already known since last December when he went alone to her house with pink flowers and a box of cards Eva doesn’t let her open.

She liked Eva, she was not like Grace or even Lizzie and they were friends, strange some kids thought because Eva was a grown-up and Evie a kid. Even the nuns at school liked Eva and they barely liked Evie’s family.

But her dad and Eva said they were just friends, and she believed them until now that she knows that smile her dad has on his face is because he is thinking about Eva.

“Do you like her, daddy?” Evie asks the question she’s been dreading since May.

He pauses, unsure of how to answer. As if wondering if he can tell the truth or lie to her face. “Yes, very much. She is lovely and loves you more than you might even love her.”

Love. Three times if you count lovely.

Evie asks her father again, a knot in her throat because she knows now why Eva and her father were busy today, they had been together! “Do you love her?”

“Yes. I do.”

Evie doesn’t know why she hates it so much. She likes Eva, she knows Eva wouldn’t be an evil witch stepmother, but even the idea of her being with her dad made Evie hate it so much.

“I hate her.” It hurts more because she loved Eva like she loved Aunt Ada and even Aunt Polly. That traitor had been her friend and now she would take her dad away from her and give him babies he would love more than Evie and Evie would be sent back to that woman.

Evelyn Shelby is shouting at Eva’s door and having to be held back by her father who tries to explain things Evie doesn’t want to here.

“Bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress, Tommy.” It’s not Eva who opens the door, but her friend, Linda, who demands Tommy not come in with a laugh.

It is much worse than Evelyn had thought.

A wedding? Their wedding?!

Was anyone going to tell her about it? Why didn’t she know about it?

“How could you do this to me, you were my friend!” the ten-year-old girl shouts at the witch wearing a wedding dress and Aunt Esme’s veil as the women in the neighborhood stopped on their tracks.

So, everyone was in on it? Everyone knew it except Evie.

“Sweetheart, we can explain.” The witch says and looks at her father who had come into the house anyways.

The three sit there where everyone had been preparing for a wedding no one had considered telling Evie about. She can recognize the suit jacket as her father’s, and Linda’s neat handwriting on the list of people who were invited and even worse, a picture of Eva and her dad kissing at the Derby they went last week. They had gone with them to Epsom, to celebrate how great things were going now that Billy Kimber was gone. Never did Evie think that her dad would be taking them so he could propose to Eva.

“How long have you been seeing him behind my back?” Evie asks the woman still in her wedding dress and being forced to sit apart from them because Evie refuses to let her be near her.

“We wanted to tell you, sweetheart, believe me, we were going to tell you we were seeing each other since the Derby, but things changed. I am sorry you had to find out this way.” Eva doesn’t like lying, says the truth hurts but it’s still better than lying. “I hope you can forgive us for it.”

“Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I don’t want you to take my daddy away from me!”  Evie refused to let it happen, her dad was hers and hers alone.

“Evie, she’s not taking me from you. As a matter of fact, Eva will come live with us and be the mother you deserve to have.” Tommy tries to take her face in his hands to get her to understand them, but his daughter refuses to even look at him. “It would break my heart if she left. It would break yours too, I know.”

“I don’t care.” The girl lies. She would miss her, Finn too and her dad never looked as happy as he did since they became friends and sweethearts behind her back.

“They will kill her if she leaves England.” He says as seriously as he had told her to stay in the patch with Esme’s family that day he came back with a bandage over his chest. “I can’t let that happen, and neither could you.”

Because he saved her that day and even if everyone says he’s a bad man, he still the man who saved her and made her a Shelby.

And even if Evie hates it, she must let it happen because even if she really hates Eva right now, she doesn’t want her to die.

“Fine, but we aren’t friends anymore and I won’t ever call her my mother.” The girl crossed her arms and resigned herself to her fate.

“I will take what I can get.” Eva tells her father and agrees to Evie’s terms. “I promise I won’t ever become your wicked stepmother, and I won’t ever make you call me mother.”

They keep their word; Evie isn’t forced to be nice to her ---even when they take her to Brighton and London with them on their honeymoon--- and Eva never becomes her evil stepmother even when 1922 rolls around and comes with the news that Eva is having a baby.

And yet, when May Carleton shows up looking for her father at the betting shop, Evie introduces a very pregnant Eva as her mother because there is only one other person Evelyn Shelby can share her father with and that is Eva Shelby.

[mariacallous]

Before he was abruptly fired last month, Derek Copeland worked as a trainer at the US Department of Agriculture’s National Dog Detection Training Center, preparing beagles and Labrador retrievers to sniff out plants and animals that are invasive or vectors for zoonotic diseases, like swine flu. Copeland estimates the NDDTC lost about a fifth of its trainers and a number of other support staff when 6,000 employees were let go at the USDA in February as part of a government-wide purge orchestrated by the Trump administration and Elon Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE).

Before he received his termination notice, he says, Copeland had just spent several months training the only dog stationed in Florida capable of detecting the Giant African land snail, an invasive mollusk that poses a significant threat to Florida agriculture. “We have dogs for spotted and lantern flies, Asian longhorn beetles,” he says, referring to two other non-native species. “I don’t think the American people realize how much crap that people bring into the United States.”

Dog trainers are just one example of the kind of highly specialized USDA staff that have been removed from their stations in recent weeks. Teams devoted to inspecting plant and food imports have been hit especially hard by the recent cuts, including the Plant Protection and Quarantine program, which has lost hundreds of staffers alone.

“It’s causing problems left and right,” says one current USDA worker, who like other federal employees in this story asked to remain anonymous for fear of retaliation. “It’s basically a skeleton crew working now,” says another current USDA staffer, who noted that both they and most of their colleagues held advanced degrees and had many years of training to protect US food and agriculture supply chains from invasive pests. “It’s not something that is easily replaced by artificial intelligence.”

“These aren’t your average people,” says Mike Lahar, the regulatory affairs manager at US customs broker behemoth Deringer. “These were highly trained individuals—inspectors, entomologists, taxonomists.”

Lahar and other supply chain experts warn that the losses could cause food to go rotten while waiting in ports and could lead to even higher grocery prices, in addition to increasing the chances of potentially devastating invasive species getting into the country. These dangers are especially acute at a moment when US grocery supply chains are already reeling from other business disruptions such as bird flu and President Trump’s new tariffs.

“If we're inspecting less food, the first basic thing that happens is some amount of that food we don't inspect is likely to go bad. We're going to end up losing resources,” says supply chain industry veteran and software CEO Joe Hudicka.

The USDA cuts are being felt especially in coastal states home to major shipping ports. USDA sources who spoke to WIRED estimate that the Port of Los Angeles, one of the busiest in the US, lost around 35 percent of its total Plant Protection and Quarantine staff and 60 percent of its “smuggling and interdiction” employees, who are tasked with stopping illegal pests and goods from entering the country. The Port of Miami, which handles high volumes of US plant imports, lost about 35 percent of its plant inspectors.

Navigating the workforce cuts has “been absolute chaos,” says Armando Rosario-Lebrón, a vice president of the National Association of Agriculture Employees, which represents workers in Plant Protection and Quarantine program.

“These ports were already strained in how they process cargo, and now some of them have been completely decimated,” Rosario-Lebrón says. "We could be back to pandemic-level issues for some goods if we don't fix this."

The Department of Agriculture did not respond to a request for comment. Republican senator Joni Ernst, who has been a vocal backer of DOGE’s efforts, previously publicly supported the USDA’s dog training program and cosponsored legislation that would give it permanent funding. Her office declined to comment on cuts made to it.

Two federal judges and an independent agency that assesses government personnel decisions have already ordered that fired USDA employees be reinstated. Earlier this week, the USDA said that it was pausing the terminations for 45 days and would “develop a phased plan for return-to-duty.” But affected staff remain in the dark about their future, and the Trump administration has signaled it will fight court decisions to reinstate employees, with White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt calling one of the rulings “absurd and unconstitutional.”

As these legal and regulatory battles continue to play out, Hudicka says he anticipates a number of trickle-down effects to happen, such as local market wars over resources, which bigger cities and larger grocery chains will be better equipped for than mom-and-pops and rural communities. Hudicka says that allowing shipping containers to sit uninspected could also impact other sectors, as the delays will prevent them from being reused for other kinds of goods. “Those containers are supposed to be moving stuff every day, and now they’re just parked somewhere,” he says.

Kit Johnson, the director of trade compliance at the US customers broker John S. James, also predicts prices and waste to increase. But what raises the most alarms for him is the increased likelihood of invasive species slipping through inspection cracks. He says the price of missing a threatening pest is “wiping out an entire agricultural commodity,” an event that could have “not just economic but national security impacts.”

Decimating the Department of Agriculture could even have consequences for US Customs and Border Protection, which deploys the dogs trained by Copeland and other staffers at the National Dog Detection Training Center. CBP works closely with the USDA in other ways as well, particularly at points of entry. The two agencies run the Agricultural Quarantine Inspection program, but it’s funded by the USDA. Many Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service programs do not rely on taxpayer dollars to operate but instead collect fees from importers and other industry players. In this way, it subsidizes some of CBP’s agriculture-related activities. CBP did not respond to a request for comment.

As the fired USDA workers wait to hear whether their reinstatements will actually take place, ports are beginning to feel their absence. “There aren’t as many inspections being done, and it doesn’t just put us at risk,” says Lahar. “It puts our farmers and our food chains at risk.”

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XXIV

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.9K

A Like without a Reblog will result in an automatic block.

22 Welona

Someone was crying. 

She wanted to reach out and quiet the person—hold them until their distant sobs grew silent.

But her hand wouldn’t move. 

It laid beside her. Heavy, tingling. 

And then the pain hit.

Agony along her spine, burning, contracting.

A pounding in the back of her head, hammer-like.

Excruciating ache in her neck, tightening, stabbing.

Her eyes tried to open. Light blinded her. Watery images floated around her.

A little girl off to the side, curled on the floor, sobbing. 

Two pairs of legs nearby. 

A face so familiar it hurt; a yearning so poignant her heart strained for him, a hand trying to reach for his own, tie itself to his. 

She tried to smile. But darkness swarmed her—a colony of bats fluttering at the edges of her vision. 

Through it she saw someone at the door. A man, gruff and aged, his smile weary yet tender. She hadn’t seen that face in seventeen years. 

A reminder.

A reminder that the happiness she had experienced, she didn’t deserve. Because she wasn’t kind to him in his final moments, and she knew, this was her comeuppance.

This was what she deserved.

So she closed her eyes.

23 Welona

Orchestral music ebbed from the aircar’s radio, a ballad, presumably a recording of an Inner Rim symphony. The lilt and flow of the woodwinds told a tranquil story, a necessary breath before the intensity of the story’s final moments and ultimate tragedies. 

“Your sister’s still ill,” Carinthia said. A hand on the wheel, she lowered the music further. “But her healer said rest and food will have her back on her feet tomorrow. The day after, at the latest.”

Kazi loosed a shaky breath. Soreness trickled through her muscles, a dull throb slowly bouncing behind her eyes. 

“Wolffe kept you updated?” she asked, rubbing the dragon pendant between her fingers. The necklace’s chain slid across her wrist, cool to the touch.

“Yes.” Carinthia slid her a sidelong glance. “He was…demanding when he first commed Fehr.”

Outside, rain drizzled from the ashy sky. The trees bordering their route shuddered, their green subdued from the fog crawling across the hilly landscape. 

Pressing a hand to her temple, an attempt to massage away the building ache, she asked, “Demanding?”

“More like threatening,” Carinthia said, amused. “What were his exact words? Oh right: You fucking owe her.”

Kazi grimaced. “He didn’t.”

“He did.” Carinthia’s chuckle sobered and she clutched the steering wheel tighter, the drizzle outside harshening. “There was no need for such theatrics. Fehr would have helped, regardless.”

“Wolffe will never believe that,” Kazi said quietly. At Carinthia’s probing silence, she shrugged. “He doesn’t trust any of you.” A moment passed, and she added, “I don’t blame him for it.”

The music filled their silence, and Kazi pressed a hand to her stomach, telling herself she wouldn’t vomit. Her thumb swept across the dark-green dragon pendant, again. She wanted… 

Well, it didn’t matter what she wanted.

Four hours ago, she awoke in the med center, her shoulder and back still healing from an expensive bout of bacta supply. Apparently she had caught herself falling, wrenching her shoulder in the process. But it saved her from breaking her spine. 

The med droid’s main concern was her cracked skull. Bacta stitches were required. Even now, she could feel them, cool and relieving at the base of her head. A look in the mirror before she left the med center revealed the faded abrasions lacerating her back. Her neck was still stiff. 

However, it was the weariness drilled into her bones that bothered her the most. A somber weariness leeched into her soul. A weariness she couldn’t shake. 

“I heard something of interest,” Carinthia said. Nausea coiled in her stomach and Kazi fisted her hands beneath her thighs, nodding for Carinthia to continue. “The network has dismissed Ceaia for larger operations.”

“I know.” Kazi tried to concentrate on a spot in the distance. Impossible, considering the dark drizzle. “I saw the update.”

“I wasn’t aware that you remain updated on Ceaia.”

“I didn’t—don’t.” The fog thickened and the aircar slowed. Her skin burned too hot, and she gritted her teeth, swallowing a lump of bile. “But I saw a random update last month.”

With a disbelieving look, Carinthia turned the aircar onto a dirt path. “There’s a contact on Ceaia. She informed me that some Ceaian towns are harboring rebels, refugees, those persecuted by the Empire. It’s all hushed, and only a few can be protected.” Carinthia paused. “But I have heard they’re willing to protect former Imperial supporters.”

Kazi mulled her words. Tried to analyze the heavier note in Carinthia’s tone. However, she couldn’t parse the intent through the nausea twisting in her gut. Or maybe she didn’t want to.

“You could return,” Carinthia said. 

“I can’t.” The tunnel of trees widened and the house emerged, a white stain amid the dense fog. Tucking the necklace into her pocket, she said, “Ceaia is in the past. I’ve moved on.”

The aircar stalled and Carinthia glanced her over, skeptical. “Have you moved on? Or are you running from something?”

A snarky remark was on the tip of her tongue but Kazi swung open the door, leaned over the side, and vomited. It was mostly bile. Wiping her mouth, she glanced at Carinthia.

“Thank you”—Carinthia scrunched her nose—“for doing that outside.”

“Thanks for the ride.” The front door opened and Wolffe strode down the porch steps, a poncho shielding him from the rain. Kazi stared at him. Her heart beat faster; tension she hadn’t even known existed eased, faded. “And tell Fehr thanks, too. I appreciate what you both did.”

Wolffe had reached the car by the time she was stepping into the drizzle, bundling her into an overlarge poncho. He steadied her as she straightened. His eyes roved across her face, searching, relieved, and then he nodded at Carinthia. The door slammed shut. With a wave of her hand, Carinthia disappeared into the fog.

Outside the front door, the porch roof protection from the rain, Wolffe faced Kazi. Dark circles bruised his under eyes; harried lines worried his forehead. His hands cupped her jaw and he studied her. 

“Kazi,” he whispered hoarsely.

At the tenderness in his touch, the gentle concern in his expression, Kazi could only bury her face in his chest, trembling at the onslaught of emotion. Cold, persistent like the drizzle. 

A hand nestled into her lower back. Held her closer. Tired muscles uncurled, and her body seemed to sink into him, to seek him. To rely on him. 

“She pushed me.” Swallowing her tears, Kazi breathed him in, letting his familiarity soothe the sudden ache in her heart. The bruises marring her very soul. “She pushed me.”

“I know.” Wolffe surrounded her—his warmth, his scent, his hold unyielding, his chin nuzzled to the top of her head. “We didn’t tell her. And we didn’t tell Neyti. They think you fell down the stairs.”

“Good.” She burrowed further into his chest, for just another moment, and then she straightened, lifting her chin. “I don’t want them to know. Ever.”

Pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to her forehead, he released her. “Neyti has been…distraught.” Kazi winced, and he sighed. “She’s eager to see you.” He scrubbed his jaw, bristles coating his skin. “I wanted to see how you were first.”

“I can see her,” she said. 

Based on the narrowing of his eyes, he seemed inclined to disagree. So she brushed a swift, grateful kiss to his cheek, squeezed his arm, and then stepped into the house.

Warmth seeped into her bones. The lights were dim and welcoming, and a strong aroma of roasting vegetables wafted through the air. Shucking off her boots and poncho, Wolffe hanging the latter on the rack, she made her way into the living area.

A film played on the holoscreen—her favorite. In one of the armchairs, Fluffy sat on Nova’s lap. Both canine and man were watching the screen intently.

On the couch, Neyti was curled beneath Nova’s quilt, the dark gray panels as tumultuous as the storm raging outside. But it wasn’t Neyti’s somber countenance that surprised her. It was the man holding her. Fox. 

The little girl’s cheek rested against his chest; a large hand splayed across her shoulder, tucking her into his body.

As if he could feel her stare, Fox looked over his shoulder, meeting her gaze. His chin dipped. 

Before Kazi could analyze the situation, Fox was tapping Neyti’s shoulder and gesturing to her and Wolffe. Neyti’s head snapped around; she stared at Kazi. Her lower lip started to tremble. Tears filled her gray eyes. 

Stumbling from the couch, Neyti hurried toward her, hesitating half a meter away. She wrung her hands.

“Hi,” Kazi said, smiling. She knelt and, cautiously, Neyti stepped into her, tucking her face into her chest. Kazi closed her eyes, hugging the little girl tightly. 

“I missed you,” Neyti whispered. 

“I missed you, too,” Kazi whispered back. 

A quiet sniffle; a tiny hand gripping her sweater, like the little girl was too scared to release her. Ignoring the ache in her back and the throb worsening behind her eyes, Kazi held Neyti. Let her cheek rest atop her hair, her twin braids disheveled. Hugged Neyti tighter because she was shaking.

Eventually, Neyti leaned away, and Kazi reached into her pocket, retrieving the dragon-pendant necklace. “I found this on my bedside table when I woke up.” She peered into Neyti’s face. “You know something about it?”

“I put it in your pocket.” Shyly, Neyti accepted her necklace. “I wanted Vaeloria to watch over you.” 

Emotion burned the back of her throat, and Kazi squeezed Neyti’s shoulder. “She did. She watched over me.”

Satisfaction lit her face and Neyti tucked her necklace into her trousers’ pocket. Slowly regaining her feet, Kazi looked to the kitchen. Cody was pouring a boiling pot into the sink. A timer neared its completion. 

Her stomach lurched at the thought of dinner, and she grimaced. 

Wolffe must have noticed her unease because he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and then crouched in front of Neyti. He tapped a knuckle to Neyti’s chin. The little girl ducked her head with a bashful grin. “I’m gonna take her upstairs”—he gestured to Kazi—“and I need you to get the table ready. Got it?”

Shifting between her bunny slippers, Neyti cast a worried glance at Kazi. Before Kazi could comfort her, Wolffe tugged on Neyti’s braid. His voice was low, secretive, as he said, “She’s not going anywhere. I’m gonna keep her safe. Remember?”

Neyti nodded, looked Kazi over once more, and then she raced for the kitchen. 

Kazi watched, for a moment, as Cody helped Neyti grab the plates. Still, that weariness gnawed on her bones, shark teeth jagged and painful.

Soon, Kazi found herself in her sister’s room, her hair leaking down her back. 

Wolffe had offered to help her with the shower but she refused. Everything had happened so quickly, from her waking at the med center, to the droid pestering her, to Carinthia picking her up, that she needed to be alone. To compose herself.

The heat of the shower’s water had warmed her muscles. Yet her inner self remained drained. Exhausted. 

Kazi let her gaze sweep across Daria, her sister sleeping, though Daria’s fingers spasmed occasionally. 

A note—Healer Natasha’s most recent update from that morning—sat on Daria’s nightstand. Kazi read through it. Dread sluiced her body at the last comment: 

I have increased the dosage of morning/evening potions. They have reached their maximum. The disease will nullify their effectiveness, primarily in regards to memory loss, in the next three months. Succumbing to terminality is expected soon after.

The note fluttered from her hand and Kazi could only stare at Daria. At her little sister. 

The back of her throat tightened. Something heavy constricted her chest. 

She had been so fucking stupid these last few months. She had been happy, fucking happy, avoiding the inevitable because she was selfish and she took everything—Wolffe, Neyti, her sister—for granted.

“Fuck,” Kazi hissed. She pinched her arm. Pinched herself until she wanted to cry. 

Why was her little sister sick? Why not her?

None of this was fair. It wasn’t fucking fair—

The door tipped open and Kazi stiffened.

With a nod in her direction, Cody stepped into the room, approaching Daria’s bed and reaching for her sister’s hand. Kazi frowned at the device wrapped around Daria’s wrist: small like a wrist-chrono. Numbers flashed across its screen. It was new. Unfamiliar.

She gritted her teeth and took a step forward. The bed separated her from Cody. “What are you doing.”

“I’m checking her vital signs,” Cody said, tapping the device’s screen. “I’m keeping a log of noticeable symptoms. For Healer Natasha.”

“That’s my job,” Kazi said flatly. Another step forward but Daria rested on the opposite side, away from her. Away from her care. Her jaw ached, the spot behind her eyes pulsed faster, as she clenched her jaw harder. “You’re not needed. I’ll take care of it.”

Surprise furrowed his brows and Cody straightened. Slowly, he said, “Do you know how to operate it?”

She fisted her hands behind her back. “We don’t need you.”

“That so?” he drawled. A burst of restrained anger ticked in his jaw, but it quickly disappeared. Sighing, he lifted a hand. “I’m more than willing to do it—”

“Why are you here?” Kazi looked him over. “You don’t get to pretend like you care about Daria. You’re not her family, I am. And we don’t need you.”

“I may not be family,” Cody said calmly, lethally, “but I still care for her.”

Kazi scoffed. “The only thing you care about are your missions.” His nostrils flared, and she huffed a mirthless laugh. “You think she isn’t worth committing to and it’s fucked up—”

“That’s enough.” Rage glinted in his eyes, and his shoulders grew rigid. “Have you asked her about our situation? Have you asked her what she wants?” 

“She told me—” 

“Did she? Or did you assume you understood what she was saying?”

“I know my sister,” she said.

“I don’t doubt that.” Releasing a heavy breath, Cody held her glare. “Daria and I have discussed these things. I would never hurt her. And I have made my intentions clear from the beginning. We have an understanding. That’s all you need to know.”

The finality in his tone—his fucking composure when her little sister was dying—grated on her nerves, and Kazi dug her fingernails into her palms. 

“You know she’s going to forget you,” she said quietly. Cody tensed, and she laughed, the noise choked. Broken. “She’s going to forget you. She’s going to forget Neyti. She’s going to forget me. She’s going to forget all of us.” Her vision started to blur, and she gulped. “Are you going to be here when that happens, Commander? Are you going to ‘check on her’ when she looks you in the eye and is scared because she doesn’t fucking recognize you?”

A tear scorched her cheek and she swiped it away. Her breaths sharpened. Loud and ragged to her ears. Placing a hand against her chest, she tried to breathe. It was hard. It was so fucking hard. Like her lungs didn’t want to cooperate.

“She’s going to forget you,” she repeated hoarsely. “She’s going to forget all of us. And then she’s going to die, and she’s going to die not remembering she was my sister.”

For a long, silent minute, they stared at one another, and then Kazi turned on her heel and locked herself in Daria’s refresher. 

She collapsed to the floor. 

She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and she bit. 

She bit into her skin, muffling the sobs trying to choke her. Bit her wrist and squeezed her eyes closed, refusing to cry. 

Because she wasn’t allowed to cry. Her little sister was suffering, and she had no fucking right to cry.

The ‘fresher door opened, and someone was kneeling beside her, and strong arms were pulling her into a chest.

“It’s okay,” Wolffe murmured through her harsh pants. “It’s okay.”

“She’s going to forget me,” she whispered brokenly. A metallic taste filled her mouth and she shoved her hand away, ignoring the smidgen of blood. “She’s going to forget me.”

Lightning crawled across the sky, the white lighting the bedroom for long, unnatural seconds. Tucked beneath her covers, Kazi watched the storm. 

Beyond her bedroom, the house was silent. Wolffe had tucked Neyti into bed, and the men were downstairs, enjoying a horror film Nova recommended. All except Wolffe. He was drawing shapes on her arm, seemingly content to endure her silence, as he had the last hour.

Another burst of lightning purpled the night sky. 

Kazi knew she should talk to him. Explain. However, embarrassment kept her back to him. Embarrassment and shame. She owed Cody an apology for attacking his character, and she owed Wolffe an apology for not being competent. For not being in control. 

But she was too tired, really, to care about apologies. And why bother when she didn’t deserve the possible forgiveness? 

“I was scared.” 

The words, though softly spoken, startled her enough she jumped. Looking over her shoulder, she found Wolffe staring at her ceiling. His expression was haunted. 

“I watched you fall. And I couldn’t get to you,” he said. “I heard your head hit the edge of that stair and I thought…I fucking thought…” His throat bobbed, and his eyes sought hers. “What happened can’t happen again.”

Kazi flinched at the tremble in his voice, and she turned over, lying on her back.

“Daria will need better care soon,” Wolffe said. Beneath the covers, his finger caressed her hand. “Will that be 24-hour care?”

Massaging her temple, she blinked at the ceiling. “Yes. I need to figure out the specifics. I haven’t done that yet.”

“Kazi.” Hesitation lengthened the silence between them and then his hand engulfed hers. “You don’t have to do this alone. You have me.”

Lightning splintered and fractured. A low roll of thunder echoed across Eluca’s jungled hills.

“It’s not your responsibility,” she said. “You have your own concerns with your missions and keeping your brothers safe. You can’t concern yourself with my family’s issues.”

Rustling sheets drew her gaze back to Wolffe. He’d pushed himself upright, leaning against her headboard, a knee bent. He regarded her with a hard look. 

“We’ve reached a point where we need to be honest,” he said. “I’m here. I’m in this with you. And I’ve got your back.” His hand twitched atop hers. “All you need to do is let me in.” 

It was determination in his features. Determination and tenacity. And yet a hint of hurt belied the steadiness in his demeanor. 

And she knew. Her insistence to maintain a semblance of distance—her insistence to rely on herself rather than rely on him—had hurt him more than he would ever admit.

Slowly pushing herself to a seated position, she gripped her knees and met his gaze. The combination of his unflinching stare and flickers of lightning left her bare. Open and vulnerable. A gutted fish abandoned on the deck of a sailboat. 

“I have spent a majority of my life relying on myself,” Kazi said quietly. Her hands started to tremble and she tightened her grasp on her knees. “I don’t want to burden you.” 

“You’re not a burden,” Wolffe said. A hand warmed her shoulder. “How have I not proven this to you?” 

She shook her head, her half-smile exasperated. Self-deprecating. Because it wasn’t his fault. He was so, so good, and it wasn’t his fucking fault for her conflicted, irrational feelings. 

“I don’t know how to let you in.” She wanted to pull away from his hand. From the heat scorching parts of her she didn’t want touched—dormant parts of her too sullied for him to see. “I don’t know how to rely on anyone but myself.” 

“I know.” He sighed, refusing to release her. “But you told me you would trust me.” 

“I do.” 

“Then trust me. Rely on me.” 

“What about you?” she demanded. Bewilderment scrunched his face and she scoffed. “You’re always so composed, Wolffe. You’re always in control. You never have any burdens—”

Wolffe snatched the black, worn notebook from her opposite nightstand. He flipped open the first page and shoved it into her hands.

“These are names,” he growled. His hands were shaking. “These are names of everyone I care about. My general. My men. My brothers.”

A white flash highlighted the inked names on the first page. Some were crossed out. The blood drained from her face.

“When I wake up in the middle of the night”—he flipped the page and even more names were crossed out—“or when I get stressed on a mission, I have to read these fucking pages to reassure myself that not everyone I care about is dead.” 

Thunder droned outside the house and Wolffe swallowed.

“I can’t look at raw meat. I can’t smell it. I can’t fucking eat meat anymore because it reminds me of the bodies…” Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. “Fireworks remind me of Abregado. When I see Neyti sparring with my brothers, I immediately look for Nova. Because I need a fucking medic on hand just in case she gets hurt.” He exhaled a sharp breath. His eyes hollowed. “I count the minutes until you return from work. Because I’m scared you won’t return.”

More pages riffled. Only one or two names remained unblemished. 

Kazi started to flip another when Wolffe halted her. Even in the darkness she could see more names written on the next page. They must have been personal, if he didn’t want her seeing them.

“This what you want, Ennari?” He tapped the book. “To know that I’m so fucked in the head I need a book to keep my fucking thoughts straight?”  

“Wolffe…” Kazi searched his face, the exhaustion and resignation dulling his eyes.

“I think I’m stained,” he said quietly. Gently closing the notebook, he returned it to her nightstand. “My hands are stained. And every time I get in your bed, I’m reminded that—” His shoulders hunched and his mouth pressed into a flat line. 

A scowl marred his features, an attempt to guard his vulnerability. And it was vulnerability, raw and honest, rounding his eyes and wearying his face. So she offered him her own vulnerability.

“I hate med centers.” A humorless smile pinched her cheeks. “My father was brought to one right before he died. And ever since then, I’ve hated them.” She fiddled with the hem of her sheet. “I know it’s stupid, but waking up there…” 

Seeing Neyti’s necklace was a comfort when she first awoke. A comfort that calmed some of her initial panic. 

“Being there today reminded me of what’s to come for Daria,” she whispered. “And I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared to lose her.”

Purple lightning lit her room and it was then that she noticed the small object on her nightstand. Gray petals. A thin, long stem. Another tear trickled down her cheek.

“She didn’t recognize me, Wolffe. She looked me in the eye and didn’t recognize me,” Kazi whispered. A few seconds followed, and then she added, “Ever since I first learned about her disease, I’ve numbed myself to any thought of it. I thought it would go away”—she scoffed—“and it was so fucking stupid of me. But I really thought if I ignored it and avoided any thought of death it would disappear. It wouldn’t be my problem.”

The gray flower mocked her. Innocent. Delicate. A vestige of life.

“I’ve failed to protect her,” she said. “I failed her.”

Wolffe cleared his throat. “You can’t protect your sister from a disease. That’s outside your control.” 

“I should’ve researched more—”

“You can’t control certain things, Ennari,” he said. Her lips pursed, and Wolffe ran his tongue along his teeth. A wildness lit his eyes, desperate and raging. “I sent men to die. Men who I shared blood with. I ordered them into battle, and not all of them made it. I couldn’t protect them all. Do you think I should blame myself for their deaths?”

Her grip tightened on her sheets. “No.”

“Then stop blaming yourself for Daria’s disease.”

The decisiveness in his tone brokered no room for further argument. But it was the guilt in his expression—the guilt still gnawing on him—that convinced her to let it go. 

Settling beneath her sheet, she rested her head on a pillow. Wolffe lowered himself to the mattress, too. Tension thrummed from him, and she reached for his hand, brought it to her mouth. Softly kissed his palm. Kissed his fingers. Held his hand close to her heart as she closed her eyes.

Sometime in the witching hour of night, Kazi woke. The storm had settled, and the moons limned the darkness, and a cloud of lightning bugs flitted across the sky formerly bearing their namesake. 

Like one of those bugs fluttering to a new place, Kazi made her way to her sister’s room. Warm light seeped from the cracked door. She peeked inside.

Daria and Cody were speaking, their voices quiet, their touches purposeless until Daria noticed her. With a small smile, her sister beckoned her inside. Kazi nodded at Cody, and she hoped he could see the apology in her face. He vacated his seat. On his way out, his elbow knocked hers. Gentle. Reassuring. Remnants of her guilt eased, and she sat in his chair.

To her surprise, Daria reached for her hand, her sister’s fingers a cold blanket around her own. Her grasp was weak.

“Cody said you fell,” Daria said, her eyebrows knitted in concern. “He said you fell down the stairs and you had to go to the med center.”

Kazi mustered a smile. “I’m fine. A little sore, but the pain meds should make it go away within the next day.”

A few seconds passed in stilted silence as Daria scrutinized her. “I’ve never known you to be careless.” 

“I fell from the boat’s mast once,” Kazi said. “Luckily I only sprained—”

“Your ankle.” Daria licked her lips, the usual pink paled. “I remember.”

Hesitation worried the lines of Daria’s face. Squeezing her sister’s hand, Kazi murmured, “I tripped, Dee. Things like that happen.”

“But you’re always so careful,” Daria said. “The stairs at the lighthouse never tripped you up. I remember…” Her eyelashes quivered, and it was then that Kazi realized some of them were missing. “I remember one of the steps gave out. But you caught yourself.” 

“I was young,” Kazi said. “I had more mobility—”

“You’re still young. And you’re as athletic and agile as you used to be.”

A single sweep of her sister’s face and the mistrust haunting her gaze told Kazi everything she needed to know. Her sister surmised the truth.

She could try to convince Daria otherwise, but, ultimately, it would be pointless. And she wasn’t interested in isolating Daria again—jeopardizing the relationship they were still nurturing. Instead, she rounded the bed and slid beneath the covers. 

While Daria sipped from a water glass, Kazi surveyed her sister’s nightstand. A dragon carving reared, its wings splayed, its wood a sea glass reminiscent of the ocean on a calm day. A frame housed an old, faded photo.  

“Do you miss them?” Kazi asked quietly, studying her parents.

“I do,” Daria murmured, her smile wistful.

“Did you ever write them letters?” 

A tradition in Traditionalist and Reformist culture: When a loved one died—whether a family member, friend, or even a pet—you wrote a letter. Well-wishes. Reflection. Gratitude. Issues laid to rest. 

The letters were private. Only for the dead and the stars to overhear. They were a formal plea to the dragons—to guide a lost soul to the afterlife.

When the moon was full, the letter was read. For Ceaians believed all humans were formed from stardust, and it was to stardust the dead returned. 

The letters were also a reassurance to the dead. A reassurance that their loved ones could continue onward, without them.

Kazi never wrote her parents letters. 

“I did,” Daria said. “I read them, and I burnt them.”

The one differentiator between Traditionalists and Reformists: The Traditionalists drowned their letters at sea, and the Reformists burnt them. 

The former believed drowning the letter allowed a piece of their dead loved one to remain on Ceaia. A burial. The latter believed burning the letter symbolized an individual’s readiness to continue. To keep living.

Staring at Daria’s dragon carving, Kazi frowned. “Are you…afraid of dying?”

Understanding softened her features and Daria smiled sadly. “Not anymore.” 

Daria closed her eyes, and Kazi knew, without being told, that her sister was imagining Ceaia. Most likely their old home on the beach shore. 

“I lived,” Daria said softly. “And while it wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself, I still had the chance to truly live.”

For a while, Kazi mused her sister’s answer, and as Daria’s breathing started to even, she whispered, “I’m starting to remember what it’s like. To actually live.”

“It’s terrifying,” Daria whispered back. “But so, so exciting.”*

Later, Kazi made her way back to her room. 

The moment she rejoined Wolffe beneath her covers, he wrapped an arm around her front and pulled her into his body. His breath warmed the back of her neck. A few seconds later and he was asleep again. She soon followed him.

Masterlist | Chapter 23 | A Muse

A/N: Kazi and Wolffe in the last scene.

By the way, just in case people don’t know, I wrote this version of Wolffe before we even knew that Wolffe would be in season 3 of TBB. So my portrayal of him is not reflective of the storyline pursued in canon Star Wars post-TCW. 

* Line inspired by Night at the Museum (2006): "It's time for your next adventure." "I have no idea what I'm going to do tomorrow." "How exciting."

[procurement-insights]

What is the difference between an ERP Agent Swarm, Equation-based Intake and Orchestration, and Agent-based Metaprise models?

[awlusa]

Optimized Service Through Transformative Orchestration

Welcome to the digital era of logistics where optimization and efficiency reign supreme. AWL is at the forefront of this transformative wave, offering cutting-edge logistics orchestration and automation solutions. Our advanced order orchestration and supply chain orchestration technologies empower businesses to streamline their operations, enhance productivity, and deliver exceptional customer experiences. At AWL, we understand the complex challenges businesses face in managing their logistics operations. With our logistics orchestration solutions, we offer a comprehensive approach to optimizing and automating your supply chain. Our innovative technologies seamlessly connect different components of your logistics network, enabling real-time visibility, seamless collaboration, and agile decision-making.

Our logistics automation solutions are designed to eliminate manual tasks and streamline repetitive processes, enabling your team to focus on strategic initiatives. By leveraging automation technologies, we can optimize your order management, inventory control, transportation planning, and warehouse operations. This results in faster order fulfillment, reduced errors, and improved operational efficiency. With AWL’s logistics automation solutions, you can achieve significant cost savings and accelerate your time-to-market. Moreover, efficient order orchestration is the key to delivering exceptional customer experiences.

AWL’s order orchestration technology ensures that every order is seamlessly processed, fulfilled, and delivered, regardless of the sales channel or fulfillment location. Our system intelligently routes orders, optimizes inventory allocation, and orchestrates multi-channel fulfillment, enabling you to meet customer expectations while minimizing costs and lead times. By centralizing order management and automating the fulfillment process, AWL empowers your business to deliver fast, accurate, and reliable service.

Furthermore, the complexity of modern supply chains demands intelligent coordination and synchronization. AWL’s supply chain orchestration solution enables end-to-end visibility and control across your entire supply chain ecosystem. We leverage advanced analytics, machine learning, and AI-driven algorithms to anticipate demand, optimize inventory levels, and dynamically adjust transportation routes. With AWL’s supply chain orchestration, you can proactively respond to market demands, minimize stockouts, reduce costs, and drive sustainable growth.

In this era of rapid digital transformation, logistics orchestration has emerged as a game-changer for businesses seeking to optimize their operations and provide exceptional customer service. AWL is your trusted partner, offering state-of-the-art logistics automation solutions, order orchestration, and supply chain orchestration services. With our transformative technologies, we empower you to drive efficiency, enhance visibility, and deliver a seamless logistics experience. Join hands with AWL and embark on a journey towards optimized service and accelerated business growth. Contact us today to learn how AWL can revolutionize your logistics operations.

Source : https://awlusa.blogspot.com/2023/05/optimized-service-through.html

[autisticva]

Success Is Just a Side Effect. Why Process Is Everything.

Years before I knew I was autistic, I used to play Black Desert Online (an online MMO RPG) every day. I wasn’t particularly interested in the combat side of things—instead, I was consumed by farming, producing, crafting, harvesting, and most of all, running it like a one-person production powerhouse.

I found the repetitiveness calming.

I had memorised where each type of tree grew and mapped out the most time-efficient route to every single one.

I’d watch my adorable Shai process one resource into another, but every task was deliberately orchestrated—a gratifying symphony of efficiency.

The entire operation was supported by a spreadsheet I’d designed myself. It calculated what meals I could cook based on the number of ingredients required for each specific recipe. It was basically a live inventory system, all with colour-coded sections. I entered the opening stock count manually each day, and everything else ran automatically, powered by formulas.

I was on top of my game. Even though I was a small fish among the leader board production giants, I showed up consistently and quietly went about my craft because I genuinely enjoyed what I was doing.

I also had a goal. A big one.

The biggest ambition one could have in Black Desert was to build an Epheria Carrack.

Building a ship in Black Desert is like building a corporation from scratch. You level up one thing so you can unlock another, so you can gather this resource to turn it into that material, so you can use that to craft a component that becomes part of a bigger component... It’s an intricate web of interconnected supply chains, and I learned to pluck those strings like a harp.

Eventually, I realised my dream. I built my carrack. And I set sail.

My pride was swollen like the sails above me—because getting there felt incredible. But it also left me with a question: "OK, now what?"

I had my ship, but I’d lost my compass.

I enjoyed the process—the journey—more than reaching the destination.

Once I cross the finish line, I usually just toss the trophy in with the rest and start chasing after a new marathon. And the longer and more complex it is, the better.

That’s why being a VA is my thing because that process-oriented mindset applies to everything I do.

I can immerse myself in your business processes, learn them, master them, and make them even more efficient. And the more strings your harp has, the more beautiful music I can eventually learn to play.

And you can build your ship and set sail to where X marks the spot.

[datapeakbyfactr]

AI’s Role in Business Process Automation

Automation has come a long way from simply replacing manual tasks with machines. With AI stepping into the scene, business process automation is no longer just about cutting costs or speeding up workflows—it’s about making smarter, more adaptive decisions that continuously evolve. AI isn't just doing what we tell it; it’s learning, predicting, and innovating in ways that redefine how businesses operate. 

From hyperautomation to AI-powered chatbots and intelligent document processing, the world of automation is rapidly expanding. But what does the future hold?

What is Business Process Automation? 

Business Process Automation (BPA) refers to the use of technology to streamline and automate repetitive, rule-based tasks within an organization. The goal is to improve efficiency, reduce errors, cut costs, and free up human workers for higher-value activities. BPA covers a wide range of functions, from automating simple data entry tasks to orchestrating complex workflows across multiple departments. 

Traditional BPA solutions rely on predefined rules and scripts to automate tasks such as invoicing, payroll processing, customer service inquiries, and supply chain management. However, as businesses deal with increasing amounts of data and more complex decision-making requirements, AI is playing an increasingly critical role in enhancing BPA capabilities. 

AI’s Role in Business Process Automation 

AI is revolutionizing business process automation by introducing cognitive capabilities that allow systems to learn, adapt, and make intelligent decisions. Unlike traditional automation, which follows a strict set of rules, AI-driven BPA leverages machine learning, natural language processing (NLP), and computer vision to understand patterns, process unstructured data, and provide predictive insights. 

Here are some of the key ways AI is enhancing BPA: 

Self-Learning Systems: AI-powered BPA can analyze past workflows and optimize them dynamically without human intervention. 

Advanced Data Processing: AI-driven tools can extract information from documents, emails, and customer interactions, enabling businesses to process data faster and more accurately. 

Predictive Analytics: AI helps businesses forecast trends, detect anomalies, and make proactive decisions based on real-time insights. 

Enhanced Customer Interactions: AI-powered chatbots and virtual assistants provide 24/7 support, improving customer service efficiency and satisfaction. 

Automation of Complex Workflows: AI enables the automation of multi-step, decision-heavy processes, such as fraud detection, regulatory compliance, and personalized marketing campaigns. 

As organizations seek more efficient ways to handle increasing data volumes and complex processes, AI-driven BPA is becoming a strategic priority. The ability of AI to analyze patterns, predict outcomes, and make intelligent decisions is transforming industries such as finance, healthcare, retail, and manufacturing. 

“At the leading edge of automation, AI transforms routine workflows into smart, adaptive systems that think ahead. It’s not about merely accelerating tasks—it’s about creating an evolving framework that continuously optimizes operations for future challenges.”

— Emma Reynolds, CTO of QuantumOps

Trends in AI-Driven Business Process Automation 

1. Hyperautomation 

Hyperautomation, a term coined by Gartner, refers to the combination of AI, robotic process automation (RPA), and other advanced technologies to automate as many business processes as possible. By leveraging AI-powered bots and predictive analytics, companies can automate end-to-end processes, reducing operational costs and improving decision-making. 

Hyperautomation enables organizations to move beyond simple task automation to more complex workflows, incorporating AI-driven insights to optimize efficiency continuously. This trend is expected to accelerate as businesses adopt AI-first strategies to stay competitive. 

2. AI-Powered Chatbots and Virtual Assistants 

Chatbots and virtual assistants are becoming increasingly sophisticated, enabling seamless interactions with customers and employees. AI-driven conversational interfaces are revolutionizing customer service, HR operations, and IT support by providing real-time assistance, answering queries, and resolving issues without human intervention. 

The integration of AI with natural language processing (NLP) and sentiment analysis allows chatbots to understand context, emotions, and intent, providing more personalized responses. Future advancements in AI will enhance their capabilities, making them more intuitive and capable of handling complex tasks. 

3. Process Mining and AI-Driven Insights 

Process mining leverages AI to analyze business workflows, identify bottlenecks, and suggest improvements. By collecting data from enterprise systems, AI can provide actionable insights into process inefficiencies, allowing companies to optimize operations dynamically. 

AI-powered process mining tools help businesses understand workflow deviations, uncover hidden inefficiencies, and implement data-driven solutions. This trend is expected to grow as organizations seek more visibility and control over their automated processes. 

4. AI and Predictive Analytics for Decision-Making 

AI-driven predictive analytics plays a crucial role in business process automation by forecasting trends, detecting anomalies, and making data-backed decisions. Companies are increasingly using AI to analyze customer behaviour, market trends, and operational risks, enabling them to make proactive decisions. 

For example, in supply chain management, AI can predict demand fluctuations, optimize inventory levels, and prevent disruptions. In finance, AI-powered fraud detection systems analyze transaction patterns in real-time to prevent fraudulent activities. The future of BPA will heavily rely on AI-driven predictive capabilities to drive smarter business decisions. 

5. AI-Enabled Document Processing and Intelligent OCR 

Document-heavy industries such as legal, healthcare, and banking are benefiting from AI-powered Optical Character Recognition (OCR) and document processing solutions. AI can extract, classify, and process unstructured data from invoices, contracts, and forms, reducing manual effort and improving accuracy. 

Intelligent document processing (IDP) combines AI, machine learning, and NLP to understand the context of documents, automate data entry, and integrate with existing enterprise systems. As AI models continue to improve, document processing automation will become more accurate and efficient. 

Going Beyond Automation

The future of AI-driven BPA will go beyond automation—it will redefine how businesses function at their core. Here are some key predictions for the next decade: 

Autonomous Decision-Making: AI systems will move beyond assisting human decisions to making autonomous decisions in areas such as finance, supply chain logistics, and healthcare management. 

AI-Driven Creativity: AI will not just automate processes but also assist in creative and strategic business decisions, helping companies design products, create marketing strategies, and personalize customer experiences. 

Human-AI Collaboration: AI will become an integral part of the workforce, working alongside employees as an intelligent assistant, boosting productivity and innovation. 

Decentralized AI Systems: AI will become more distributed, with businesses using edge AI and blockchain-based automation to improve security, efficiency, and transparency in operations. 

Industry-Specific AI Solutions: We will see more tailored AI automation solutions designed for specific industries, such as AI-driven legal research tools, medical diagnostics automation, and AI-powered financial advisory services. 

AI is no longer a futuristic concept—it’s here, and it’s already transforming the way businesses operate. What’s exciting is that we’re still just scratching the surface. As AI continues to evolve, businesses will find new ways to automate, innovate, and create efficiencies that we can’t yet fully imagine. 

But while AI is streamlining processes and making work more efficient, it’s also reshaping what it means to be human in the workplace. As automation takes over repetitive tasks, employees will have more opportunities to focus on creativity, strategy, and problem-solving. The future of AI in business process automation isn’t just about doing things faster—it’s about rethinking how we work all together.

Learn more about DataPeak:

[the-strange-world-of-jplovecraft]

What really happened to the Hamburgler?

by JPLOVECRAFT based on concepts generated by AI Lovecraft

There are many opinions, some bordering on conspiracy, about the fate of beloved and freakishly weird hamburger headed fast food mascot: The Hamburgler. Some site corporate espionage, some speculate conspiracy by McDonald’s to silence through murder. Some theories go as far as revenge and cannibalism. What’s true, what’s speculation, if a walking, talking hamburger hybrid being eats a human head is that really considered cannibalism? In this piece we will be presenting three versions of this story, each more extreme than the other. Which one is true, are any of them true, do any of them contain McNuggets of truth…?

Fucked if I know.

Theory one: The Hamburgler gets canned.

The Hamburglar, beloved yet forgotten hamburger headed mascot of the McDonald’s hamburger sandwich franchise was officially fired from the company after years of service. While the official reason for his termination was not given, many have speculated that the cause sinister.

It is believed that the Hamburglar’s firing was politically motivated. For years, the Hamburglar had been a vocal critic of the company’s policies and practices, and had become increasingly vocal in recent years. He had been vocal about the company’s use of unhealthy ingredients, their labor and environmental policies. He had also been vocal about the company’s use of artificial ingredients and the lack of transparency in their supply chain.

The corporation was also nervous about rumours that the mascot was not merely an actor in costume but… well… some sort of “experiment.”

This criticism had become increasingly uncomfortable for the company, and it is believed that they decided to silence the Hamburglar by firing him.

It is also believed that the company was concerned with the Hamburglar’s increasingly maniacal behavior. He had become unpredictable and erratic, and the company worried that his behavior could reflect poorly on their brand.

The firing of the Hamburglar is a tragedy, and it is a reminder of the real, horrible, twisted, political and maniacal reasons why corporations often make decisions. It is a reminder that corporations are not always driven by moral or ethical principles, but rather by their own self-interest. The Hamburglar’s firing serves as a stark reminder of the power of corporations and the need to hold them accountable for their actions.

The Hamburgler has since gone into seclusion and has not been seen for many years.

Theory two: The Hamburgler was assassinated.

The world was shocked when theories surfaced that the beloved McDonald’s mascot, the Hamburglar, had been murdered. The character had been a staple of the McDonald’s brand for over 40 years, and his sudden disappearance was a mystery that had many people asking questions.

After his sudden disappearance an anonymous source claimed that the McDonald’s corporation had orchestrated his murder in order to silence him for what he had seen and was about to expose.

The source claimed that the Hamburglar had stumbled upon evidence of a major cover-up involving the company’s use of unhealthy ingredients in their food. The Hamburglar had been planning to reveal this information to the public, a move that would have been disastrous for McDonald’s reputation.

In order to prevent this from happening, the McDonald’s corporation reportedly hired a hitman to eliminate the Hamburglar. The Hamburglar was silenced. His hamburger head supposedly repurposed as the main ingredient in a limited edition “happy meal.” While his human half is kept in an underground lab providing stem cells for future mascots.

The news of the Hamburglar’s murder sent shockwaves through the fast food industry, and many people began to question the integrity of the McDonald’s brand. The company has since denied any involvement in the Hamburglar’s death, but the story of his demise serves as a reminder of the lengths that some corporations will go to in order to protect their secrets.

This theory is both shocking and flimsy. In all honesty I personally find it hard to believe that the Hamburgler was that concerned with ethics in food prep, I mean, dude was straight stealing those delicious burgers, that’s the calling card of an addict. Plus… this theory pushes even further that the Hamburgler was half human, half delicious burger and well… let’s move on.

Theory three: Lab experiments, revenge, cannibalism…?

The Hamburgler, was / is a mysterious, mischievous figure who seemed to appear and disappear at will. He had a penchant for stealing hamburgers. That’s weird and confusing.

No one knew where the Hamburgler had come from or why he was stealing hamburgers, but everyone knew he was up to no good.

One day, the Hamburgler had had enough. Driven mad by the horrific lab experiments that birthed him from a test tube decades earlier. Heartbroken from watching the systematic drowning of the chicken McNugget mascots in the great sauce massacre of the late 90s. Emotionally scarred by the untimely suicide of his musician friend MacTonight. It was all too much.

He had watched as humans gorged themselves on hamburgers, McNuggets, hot apple pies, McRibs, big n tasties, McDonald’s pizza?!!! It would never end. His hamburger addiction was swelling, his paranoia crippling, his sudden awareness that when he ate a burger he was eating a tiny version of his own head…! Mac Tonight, the McNuggets, the fry girls, him… were all victims, pawns. He decided it was time for revenge.

A series of horrific murders ensued, targeting those who had consumed the most hamburgers. He would sneak into their homes in the middle of the night and stun them with a hammer, but it didn't stop there. The Hamburgler would then proceed to “cannibalize” his victims, suffocating them with large saucy sesame seed buns and cheese before methodically consuming their heads in a gruesome display of revenge and gluttony. At each crime scene, scrawled on the wall in ketchup and special sauce, punctuated with pickles and onions were the words: HOW’D YOU LIKE IT IF SOMEONE ATE YOUR HEAD!!!? MAC TONIGHT WAS A MUSICAL GENIUS!!!! I WAS MADE IN A LAB!!! I HAVE A CHEESEBURGER FOR A HEAD!!!

Does the Hamburgler's reign of terror continue to this day? No witnesses have been left alive to testify or help locate the hamburger headed mad mascot. Legend says he waits behind dumpsters for the closing crew to exit work at random McDonald’s locations to pounce on whatever unlucky employee has no buddy to walk with and consequently, a big fat delicious head.

Whether there’s any truth to these theories, I can’t say. I can say though that it’s going to take way more than a hamburger headed, human head eating monster, the suicide of a musical genius / Bobby Darin soundalike with a crescent moon face or the mass drowning of the McNuggets to keep me away from Mac deeezy fo sheezy. Them breakfast sammies are on point.

The Hamburgler's story serves as a reminder to us all that the consequences of fame, fortune and gluttony can be dire.

A 20 piece McNugget box is only $5.

That damned clown is still out there somewhere.