#Examination Management Software

[schoolmanegmentsystemsoftware]

Examination Management Software

How Examination Management Software Boosts School Efficiency

Introduction:

School management software is a powerful tool for streamlining administrative tasks and enhancing overall school operations. However, its benefits extend far beyond the traditional functionalities. Examination management software, a specialized module within broader school management systems, revolutionizes assessment processes, freeing up resources and valuable time.

Benefits of Examination Management Software:

Improved Efficiency: Automates test creation, grading, and reporting, significantly reducing administrative burden. Teachers can focus on developing effective assessments and providing constructive feedback.

Enhanced Security: Securely stores and manages exam data, minimizing the risk of leaks or unauthorized access.

Diversity in Assessments: Offers various assessment formats (multiple-choice, essays, short answers) catering to diverse learning styles.

Data-Driven Analysis: Provides detailed reports on student performance, enabling educators to identify areas requiring additional support or tailoring future curricula.

Reduced Paperwork: Eliminates the need for paper-based exams, promoting a more eco-friendly environment.

How Examination Management Software Integrates with School Management Systems:

Examination management software seamlessly integrates with a school's existing school management system (ERP), offering a centralized platform for managing various administrative tasks:

Importance of User Interface: An intuitive user interface (UI) is crucial for both teachers and administrators. A user-friendly exam management system ensures a smooth learning curve and fosters easy adoption.

Data Migration Strategies: Migrating existing exam data from legacy systems to the new software can be a challenge. Selecting a school management system with robust data migration strategies ensures a seamless transition.

Benefits of ERP in Administrative Efficiency: Examination management software is just one piece of the puzzle. School ERPs offer a suite of functionalities like student information management, fee management, and attendance tracking, all contributing to significantly enhanced administrative efficiency.

Addressing Diverse School Needs:

School Management Software for Training Institutes: Training institutes require robust tools for managing skill assessments and certifications. Examination management software within a school ERP can cater to these specific needs.

School Management Software for International Schools: International schools often face unique challenges. School management systems with multilingual support and adaptable assessment formats can address these diverse needs.

Beyond Examinations: A Holistic Approach:

School management software goes beyond streamlining examinations. It empowers educational leaders:

Addressing Cybersecurity Challenges: Robust security features within the school management system ensure the protection of sensitive student data, addressing cybersecurity concerns in schools.

Implementing Student Feedback Systems: Software can integrate student feedback mechanisms, allowing administrators to gather valuable insights for continuous improvement.

Role of ERP in Educational Leadership: By providing real-time data on student performance and operational efficiency, school ERPs empower educational leaders to make informed decisions and guide strategic planning.

Conclusion:

Examination management software, as part of a comprehensive school management system, offers a powerful solution for streamlining assessments and enhancing overall school efficiency. The benefits extend beyond examinations, enabling schools to foster a secure learning environment, gather valuable feedback, and empower leadershi.

[academiaerpposts]

EfficientExam: A Comprehensive Examination Management Solution for Streamlined Academic Assessment

Examination Module gives you a seamless exam experience, designed for effortless coordination and superior performance. From automated hall ticket generation and exam scheduling to result processing & publishing, ensure a smooth experience for both educators and students. For more information please visit: https://www.academiaerp.com/modules/examination-module/

[vmedulife]

Reliable and transparent brand providing campus management system. Innovative tools help the Management, Principal, and HODs to generate reports, graphs, and charts, with ease and in the fewest of clicks. This helps you to make well-informed decisions with all the necessary information.

visit us: vmedulife.com

[sweeduedu]

In todays fast-paced and dynamic work environment, effective management of employee attendance is critical for the smooth functioning of any organization. Traditional methods of tracking attendance, such as manual registers or punch cards, are becoming obsolete due to their inefficiency and susceptibility to errors. This is where an Attendance Management System (AMS) comes into play. Here’s why you need an attendance management system for your organization.

[vinnovatetechnologies]

EMR (Patient/Claimant) & Billing Management

vInnovate Technologies offers an EMR (Electronic Medical Records) and Billing Management software solution that helps insurance companies efficiently manage Independent Medical Examinations (IMEs). 

The software provides features such as managing claimant personal information, healthcare data, and generating customized reports as per insurance company standards. It addresses the challenges faced by insurance company vendors in handling the high volume of manual paperwork, appointment scheduling, coordination with multiple doctors, and various other inputs required for IMEs.

The fully integrated system streamlines the process and enables insurance companies to make informed decisions regarding patient injuries and appropriate compensation levels.

[markerspro]

Course management software is used by a variety of training organizations that can be within or separate from a business. Create Subject, Courses, Course Sections, and schedule student to a specific course section. Assign Periods, Sections, Meeting Days, and Rooms, and Teachers to a course section.

Ask for free demo.

Visit https://www.markerspro.in/ModuleMenu/Course

[bratzkoo]

operation: laundry love | joshua hong

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: software developer! joshua x reader Genre: fluff, love at first sight Rating: PG-15 Word count: 9.1k~ Warnings/note: requested by a lovely anon!

summary: Joshua Hong falls in love at first sight with you at a laundromat and schemes his way into making you like him back.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys , @gyubakeries

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

Joshua Hong had always considered himself a practical man. At twenty-eight, he had a stable job as a software developer, a tidy apartment, and a cat named Algorithm. His life was as orderly as the code he wrote, each day neatly compartmentalized into routines and habits. Laundry day was no exception—every other Saturday, 2 PM sharp, he'd trudge down to Suds & Bubbles, the local laundromat, with his precisely sorted clothes.

But on this particular Saturday, as Joshua pushed open the glass door of Suds & Bubbles, his well-ordered world tilted on its axis.

The laundromat was busier than usual, probably due to the unseasonably warm weather that had everyone in town suddenly remembering their summer clothes. The air hummed with the whir of washing machines and the occasional beep of a dryer reaching the end of its cycle. The scent of detergent and fabric softener hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint mustiness of old magazines stacked on a nearby table.

Joshua's eyes swept the room, looking for an empty machine. That's when he saw her.

She was standing in front of a washing machine, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined a shirt with the intensity of a scientist studying a rare specimen. Her hair was piled haphazardly atop her head in what might generously be called a bun, secured with what appeared to be a pencil. She wore oversized sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that proclaimed "I'm not arguing, I'm just explaining why I'm right." 

To Joshua, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

As if sensing his gaze, she looked up, meeting his eyes. For a moment, Joshua forgot how to breathe. Her eyes were warm, like flecked with gold, and crinkled slightly at the corners as if she was perpetually on the verge of laughter.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice snapping Joshua back to reality. "You wouldn't happen to know how to get spaghetti sauce out of a white shirt, would you? I've been staring at this stain for so long, I'm starting to see pasta shapes."

Joshua blinked, his brain scrambling to form a coherent sentence. "I, uh... have you tried pre-treating it?" he managed to stammer out, mentally kicking himself for such a mundane response.

She sighed dramatically, holding up the shirt. "I've pre-treated it, post-treated it, and given it a stern talking-to. Nothing seems to work. I'm beginning to think this shirt has a vendetta against Italian cuisine."

A chuckle escaped Joshua before he could stop it. Her deadpan delivery and the absurdity of the situation broke through his initial panic, and he found himself relaxing slightly.

"Maybe it's more of a Chinese food fan," he offered, surprised by his own attempt at humor.

Her eyes lit up, and she let out a laugh that seemed to bubble up from her toes. "Oh my god, you're right! I should have been feeding it lo mein this whole time. How could I be so culturally insensitive to my own clothing?"

Joshua felt a warmth spread through his chest. He'd made her laugh. He, Joshua Hong, notorious for his dry technical explanations and inability to remember punchlines, had made this gorgeous, funny woman laugh.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," she said, extending her hand. "Y/N L/N, destroyer of shirts and apparent oppressor of Italian-American textiles."

"Joshua," he replied, taking her hand. Her skin was soft, and he had to resist the urge to hold on longer than socially acceptable. "Joshua Hong, software developer and... uh, laundry doer."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. "Laundry doer? Is that the technical term?"

Joshua felt heat creep up his neck. "Well, I... I mean, I'm not a professional or anything. Just a guy who, you know, does laundry. Sometimes. Well, every two weeks, actually. It's kind of a schedule thing, and—" He cut himself off, realizing he was rambling. "Sorry, I'm not usually this..." He gestured vaguely, unable to find the right word.

"Articulate?" Y/N supplied helpfully, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"That's one way to put it," Joshua said, managing a self-deprecating smile.

Y/N's gaze softened. "Hey, no worries. We all have our off days. Although," she added, glancing around the laundromat, "I'm not sure anyone's really on their A-game in a place like this. I mean, look at that guy over there."

Joshua followed her gaze to see a middle-aged man trying to stuff what looked like an entire month’s worth of clothes into a single washing machine.

"I think he's trying to create a black hole of socks and underwear," Y/N stage-whispered. "Should we alert NASA?"

Joshua snorted, then quickly tried to cover it with a cough. He wasn't used to finding things genuinely funny, especially not in a laundromat of all places. But something about Y/N's observations and the way she delivered them with such casual humor was infectious.

"Maybe he's conducting an experiment on the compression capabilities of cotton blend fabrics," Joshua found himself saying.

Y/N's eyes widened in mock seriousness. "Of course! How could we have missed it? Clearly, we're witnessing groundbreaking laundry science in action."

They both burst into laughter, drawing curious glances from other patrons. Joshua felt a mix of exhilaration and embarrassment. He wasn't used to being the center of attention, but with Y/N, it somehow felt... right.

"So, Joshua the Laundry Doer," Y/N said once their laughter had subsided, "since you're clearly an expert in all things wash and fold, any other tips for a hapless stain-battler like myself?"

Joshua's mind raced. This was his chance to impress her, to show off his knowledge. But as he opened his mouth to launch into a detailed explanation of stain-removal techniques, he caught sight of the playful glint in her eye. She wasn't really looking for a lecture on laundry. She was teasing him, keeping the banter going.

For a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm him. He wasn't good at this kind of thing. Flirting, joking around—it wasn't in his usual repertoire. But something about Y/N made him want to try.

"Well," he said, affecting a serious tone, "as a certified laundry professional—"

"Oh, you're certified now?" Y/N interjected, raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely. I have a degree in Sock Pairing from the prestigious University of Wash and Tumble Dry."

Y/N gasped dramatically. "I've heard of that place! Isn't their mascot the Fighting Lint Roller?"

Joshua felt a grin spreading across his face. He was doing it. He was actually engaging in witty banter. With a beautiful woman. In a laundromat. If his friends could see him now, they'd never believe it.

"That's the one," he confirmed. "Our battle cry is 'We'll press your buttons!'"

Y/N doubled over laughing, clutching her sides. "Oh my god, stop," she wheezed. "I can't breathe!"

Joshua felt a surge of pride. He'd done that. He'd made her laugh so hard she could barely breathe. It was a heady feeling, one he wanted to experience again and again.

As Y/N's laughter subsided, she wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh, man. I haven't laughed like that in ages. You, Joshua Hong, are dangerously funny. They should put a warning label on you."

Joshua felt his cheeks heat up at the compliment. "I, uh, thanks. You're pretty funny yourself."

Y/N waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, I just state the obvious. The world's a pretty ridiculous place if you pay attention." She glanced down at the shirt in her hand, then back at Joshua. "Speaking of ridiculous, I should probably actually try to wash this thing before it becomes sentient and decides to take over my wardrobe."

"Right, of course," Joshua said, suddenly remembering why they were both there in the first place. He glanced around, spotting an empty washing machine a few feet away. "There's a free machine over there if you need one."

Y/N followed his gaze and grinned. "My hero! Saving me from the horrors of waiting for a free washer. Truly, your laundry powers know no bounds."

As they walked over to the empty machine, Joshua felt a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. He was elated at having met Y/N, at the easy way they'd fallen into conversation. But there was also a twinge of sadness. Once she started her laundry, she'd probably go sit down, maybe read a book or play on her phone like most people did. Their interaction would be over, just a brief, bright moment in an otherwise ordinary day.

Y/N opened the washing machine and started loading her clothes, chattering away as she did so. "You know, I've always wondered why they make these things so deep. Are they expecting us to wash a family of four's entire wardrobe in one go? Or maybe it's for people who only do laundry once a year and need to fit everything they own in here."

Joshua chuckled, leaning against the adjacent machine. "Maybe it's in case you need to hide from the Laundry Police."

Y/N paused in her loading, a pair of jeans dangling from her hand as she turned to look at him. "The Laundry Police?"

"Oh, you know," Joshua said, warming to his theme, "they patrol laundromats, making sure no one's mixing their colors and whites. Very strict about fabric softener usage too."

A slow grin spread across Y/N's face. "Let me guess, their motto is 'To protect and pre-treat'?"

"Exactly!" Joshua exclaimed, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. He quickly tried to rein in his excitement, reminding himself that he was supposed to be playing it cool. "I mean, uh, yeah. Something like that."

Y/N's expression softened, and she tilted her head slightly as she looked at him. For a moment, Joshua thought he saw something in her eyes—a flicker of interest, maybe? But before he could analyze it further, she turned back to her laundry.

"Well, in that case, I'd better be extra careful," she said, her tone light. "I'd hate to get arrested for improper sock sorting."

As Y/N finished loading her clothes and closed the washing machine door, Joshua realized with a start that he hadn't even begun to do his own laundry. He'd been so caught up in talking to Y/N that he'd completely forgotten why he was there in the first place.

"Oh, shoot," he muttered, glancing around for another empty machine.

"Everything okay?" Y/N asked, pausing with her hand on the detergent dispenser.

"Yeah, just... I kind of forgot to actually start my own laundry," Joshua admitted, feeling his cheeks heat up again.

Y/N's eyes crinkled with amusement. "The laundry expert forgot to do his laundry? Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

Joshua ran a hand through his hair, chuckling despite his embarrassment. "I guess I got a little distracted."

Something flickered in Y/N's eyes at that, but it was gone so quickly Joshua wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. She glanced around the laundromat, then pointed to a machine in the corner. "There's one over there if you want to get started. Unless..." She hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Unless you want to share? I've got plenty of room in here, and it'll save you some quarters."

Joshua's heart leapt at the suggestion. Sharing a machine meant they'd have a reason to stay together, to keep talking. But he didn't want to seem too eager.

"Are you sure?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. "I wouldn't want to impose."

Y/N rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Please, it's a washing machine, not a kidney. Besides," she added with a wink, "I could use someone to protect me if the Laundry Police show up."

And just like that, Joshua's resolve to play it cool crumbled. He grinned, already reaching for his laundry bag. "Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

As they loaded their clothes into the machine together, their hands occasionally brushing, Joshua felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the humid laundromat air. He snuck glances at Y/N, taking in the way she hummed softly to herself as she worked, the little furrow that appeared between her brows when she concentrated on measuring the detergent.

Y/N caught him looking and raised an eyebrow. "What? Do I have detergent on my face or something?"

"No, no," Joshua said quickly. "I was just... thinking."

"Dangerous pastime," Y/N quipped.

"I know," Joshua replied automatically, then blinked in surprise. "Wait, did you just quote 'Beauty and the Beast'?"

Y/N's face lit up. "You caught that? Most people miss it!"

"Are you kidding? It's only one of the best Disney movies ever made," Joshua said, his usual reserve forgotten in his enthusiasm.

"Agreed!" Y/N exclaimed. "Talking furniture, a library to die for, and a heroine who's more interested in books than boys? Sign me up!"

As they finished loading the machine and Y/N started the cycle, Joshua felt a sense of contentment wash over him. Here he was, doing something as mundane as laundry, and yet he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself this much.

Y/N turned to him, a mischievous glint in her eye. "So, Laundry Master, what do you usually do while waiting for your clothes to wash? Let me guess, you have a special meditation technique for achieving perfect fabric softness?"

Joshua laughed, shaking his head. "Nothing so exciting, I'm afraid. Usually, I just sit and work on my laptop or read a book."

"Ah, a man of simple pleasures," Y/N nodded sagely. "Well, how about we shake things up a bit? I've got a deck of cards in my bag. Fancy a game? I warn you though, I'm undefeated in Go Fish."

"Go Fish? Really?" Joshua asked, amused.

Y/N shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "What can I say? I'm a woman of sophisticated tastes."

As Y/N rummaged in her bag for the cards, Joshua marveled at the turn his day had taken. He'd come here expecting nothing more than clean clothes and maybe a chance to catch up on some work. Instead, he'd met Y/N—funny, beautiful, ridiculous Y/N—and now he was about to play Go Fish in a laundromat like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N triumphantly produced a battered deck of cards from her bag. "Aha! Prepare to be thoroughly trounced, Joshua Hong. Your laundry expertise won't save you now!"

As they settled into a game, the rhythmic tumble of the washing machine providing a soothing backdrop, Joshua couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, his orderly life could use a little chaos. And if that chaos came in the form of a beautiful woman with a penchant for terrible puns and children's card games, well... he was more than okay with that.

It was, he decided, the best laundry day ever.

-

Joshua Hong had never considered himself a schemer. In fact, he prided himself on his straightforward nature. But as he sat in his apartment the day after his fateful meeting with Y/N, he found himself plotting like a character in one of those romantic comedies his sister was always trying to get him to watch.

"Okay, Algorithm," he said to his cat, who was perched on the arm of the couch, watching him with typical feline indifference. "We need a plan."

Algorithm yawned in response.

"Thanks for the enthusiasm," Joshua muttered. He pulled out a notebook and began to scribble furiously. "Step one: Figure out Y/N's laundry schedule."

He tapped his pen against his chin, thinking. "She mentioned she usually does laundry on Saturdays, but not every week. So maybe... every other week? Or possibly every third week?"

Algorithm meowed and jumped off the couch, apparently bored with Joshua's romantic strategizing.

"You're right," Joshua sighed. "I'm overthinking this. I'll just have to stake out the laundromat every Saturday for a while. That's totally normal and not creepy at all, right?"

Silence greeted his question.

"Right," he answered himself. "Perfectly normal."

And so began Operation Laundry Love, as Joshua had dubbed it in his head (though he'd die before admitting that to anyone else).

The next Saturday, Joshua found himself at Suds & Bubbles, a bag of laundry in hand despite having done his washing just the week before. He'd had to dig into his "emergency clothes" drawer to have enough to justify a trip.

As he pushed open the door, his heart sank. No Y/N. The laundromat was occupied by the usual Saturday crowd: a harried-looking mother with three small children, an elderly man reading a newspaper, and a college student who appeared to be using the dryer as a makeshift desk for her laptop.

Joshua sighed and resigned himself to actually doing his unnecessary laundry. As he loaded his clothes into the machine, he couldn't help but smile, remembering how he and Y/N had shared a washer the week before.

"You look happy for someone doing laundry," a voice behind him said.

Joshua whirled around, his heart leaping into his throat. But it wasn't Y/N. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with the elderly man, who had set aside his newspaper and was now regarding Joshua with amusement.

"Oh, uh, I just... really like clean clothes?" Joshua offered weakly.

The old man chuckled. "Son, I've been coming to this laundromat for thirty years, and I've never seen anyone smile like that over a washing machine. Unless..." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "You wouldn't happen to be waiting for someone, would you?"

Joshua felt heat creep up his neck. "What? No, I'm just... doing laundry. Like normal. Because it's a normal thing to do. Normally."

"Mm-hmm," the old man nodded, clearly unconvinced. "Well, I hope your 'normal laundry' shows up soon."

As the man shuffled back to his seat, Joshua groaned internally. Was he really that transparent?

The answer, as it turned out over the next few weeks, was a resounding yes.

Every Saturday, Joshua found himself at Suds & Bubbles, armed with increasingly creative excuses for why he suddenly needed to do laundry so frequently.

"I spilled an entire pot of spaghetti sauce on myself," he told the amused attendant one week.

"My cat decided my closet was his new litter box," he explained to the harried mother the next.

By the fourth Saturday, he'd run out of plausible excuses and was seriously considering actually spilling something on all his clothes just to justify his presence.

It was on this fourth Saturday, as Joshua was contemplating the merits of "accidentally" upending a bottle of ketchup on himself, that the bell above the door chimed. He looked up, more out of habit than hope at this point, and nearly dropped the detergent he was holding.

There, silhouetted in the doorway like some laundry-bearing angel, was Y/N.

She was wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt that proclaimed "I'm not procrastinating, I'm doing side quests," her hair once again in its chaotic bun. To Joshua, she had never looked more beautiful.

Y/N spotted him almost immediately, her face breaking into a grin. "Well, well, well," she said, sauntering over. "If it isn't the Laundry Master himself. We've got to stop meeting like this, people will talk."

Joshua, who had been mentally rehearsing casual greetings for weeks, found himself suddenly tongue-tied. "I, uh... hi," he managed.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Wow, they really should put a warning label on you. 'Caution: Excessive wit may cause spontaneous combustion.'"

That broke through Joshua's panic, and he felt a grin tugging at his lips. "Sorry, I left my witty retorts in my other pants. I'm here to wash them."

Y/N laughed, the sound cutting through the monotonous hum of the washing machines. "There he is! I was worried the Laundry Police had gotten to you and stolen your sense of humor."

"Nah, they just put it through the spin cycle. It's a little dizzy, but intact."

"Oh, good," Y/N nodded seriously. "A dizzy sense of humor is a small price to pay for clean clothes and freedom from laundry-based tyranny."

As they bantered, Joshua felt the tension leaving his shoulders. This was why he'd been coming back week after week, enduring knowing looks from the regulars and inventing increasingly ridiculous laundry emergencies. Not just because Y/N was beautiful (though she absolutely was), but because talking to her felt as natural as breathing.

"So," Y/N said as she started loading her laundry into a machine, "do you always do your laundry on Saturdays, or am I just lucky enough to catch you during your weekly sock-sorting séance?"

Joshua froze for a split second. This was it, the moment of truth. He could confess that he'd been coming here every week in the hopes of seeing her again. Or...

"Oh, you know," he said, aiming for casual and probably overshooting into 'trying way too hard to sound casual', "laundry emergencies wait for no man. Or woman. Or... person of any gender, really."

Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Laundry emergencies, huh? Sounds serious. What was it this time? Rogue red sock in with the whites? Denim uprising?"

"Actually," Joshua said, warming to his theme, "it was a catastrophic coffee spill. My entire wardrobe now smells like a coffee shop."

Y/N nodded solemnly. "Ah, yes. The dreaded Cappucino Fiasco. I've seen it claim many a good outfit. You were wise to seek help immediately."

As they continued to load their respective machines, Joshua marveled at how easy it was to fall into rhythm with Y/N. They moved around each other seamlessly, passing detergent and fabric softener back and forth without a word, as if they'd been doing this dance for years instead of having met only a few weeks ago.

"So," Y/N said as she closed the door of her washing machine with a flourish, "what's your strategy for killing time while the laundry gods work their magic? Please tell me it's more exciting than last time. If you pull out a deck of cards again, I might have to report you to the Fun Police."

Joshua grinned. "I'll have you know that Go Fish is a game of intense strategy and skill."

"Uh-huh," Y/N nodded, clearly unconvinced. "And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

"Your Majesty," Joshua said with an exaggerated bow.

Y/N laughed, then grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the door. "Come on, Laundry Boy. There's a coffee shop next door that does a mean latte. I think we can risk leaving our clothes unattended for a few minutes. Unless you're worried the Sock Gnomes will strike?"

Joshua allowed himself to be led, his arm tingling where Y/N was touching it. "Sock Gnomes are no laughing matter," he said seriously. "They're a menace to matched pairs everywhere."

The coffee shop, as it turned out, was a tiny hole-in-the-wall place that looked like it had been decorated by someone's eccentric grandmother. Mismatched chairs surrounded wobbly tables, and the walls were covered in a truly bewildering array of artwork, ranging from serene landscapes to what appeared to be a portrait of a cat dressed as Napoleon.

"Wow," Joshua said as they entered, the scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries enveloping them. "This place is..."

"A glorious affront to interior design?" Y/N supplied helpfully.

"I was going to say 'unique', but yeah, that works too."

They ordered their drinks - a simple black coffee for Joshua and something that sounded more like a dessert than a beverage for Y/N - and settled at a table in the corner. The chair Joshua sat in promptly made an ominous creaking sound.

"Don't worry," Y/N said, noticing his concerned look. "If it collapses, I promise to laugh only a little before calling for help."

"Your kindness knows no bounds," Joshua deadpanned.

As they sipped their drinks, the conversation flowed as easily as it had in the laundromat. They discovered a shared love of terrible puns, a mutual disdain for people who talk in movie theaters, and a surprising amount of overlap in their taste in music.

"No way," Y/N said, her eyes wide. "You like The Microphones too? I thought I was the only person under 40 who'd heard of them!"

Joshua nodded enthusiastically. "They're amazing! 'The Glow Pt. 2' is one of my all-time favorite albums."

"Okay, that settles it," Y/N declared. "We're officially friends now. I don't make the rules."

Joshua felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. "Friends, huh? Do I get a membership card or something?"

"Better," Y/N grinned. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slightly squashed packet of gum. With great ceremony, she extracted a piece and presented it to Joshua. "I hereby bestow upon you the Gum of Friendship. Guard it well."

Joshua accepted the gum with equal solemnity. "I shall treasure it always," he vowed, then promptly unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth.

Y/N gasped in mock horror. "The sacred Gum of Friendship! You've destroyed it!"

"I'm savoring our friendship," Joshua countered. "It's minty fresh."

They dissolved into laughter, earning curious looks from the other patrons. Joshua couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed this much. Being with Y/N was like being caught in the best kind of whirlwind - exhilarating, unpredictable, and utterly delightful.

As their laughter subsided, Y/N glanced at her watch and yelped. "Oh shoot, our laundry! We've been here for almost an hour!"

They hurried back to the laundromat, half-expecting to find their clothes strewn across the floor or absconded with by the mythical Sock Gnomes. But everything was just as they'd left it, their machines humming away peacefully.

"Crisis averted," Y/N sighed dramatically. "Though I have to say, part of me was looking forward to staging a daring rescue mission for our captured clothes."

Joshua grinned. "Maybe next time. I'll bring my laundry-themed superhero costume."

"Oh? And what would that look like?" Y/N asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Well, obviously a cape made of dryer sheets," Joshua began, warming to the ridiculous idea. "A utility belt stocked with stain removers for every occasion. Oh, and a mask that looks like one of those mesh laundry bags."

Y/N nodded approvingly. "Don't forget the catchphrase. Every good superhero needs a catchphrase."

"How about... 'It's time to clean up this mess!'" Joshua suggested, lowering his voice to a gravelly superhero register.

Y/N burst out laughing. "Perfect! Watch out, evil-doers. The Laundry Avenger is here to take you to the cleaners!"

As they continued to riff on increasingly absurd laundry-themed superhero ideas, Joshua marveled at how comfortable he felt. Usually, prolonged social interaction left him drained, but with Y/N, he felt energized, like he could keep talking for hours.

All too soon, their laundry was done, and they found themselves standing outside Suds & Bubbles, clean clothes in hand.

"Well," Y/N said, shifting her laundry bag to her other shoulder, "this was fun. Who knew doing laundry could be such an adventure?"

Joshua nodded, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He didn't want this to end. "Yeah, it was great. Maybe we could, uh..." He trailed off, suddenly unsure.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Joshua took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Maybe we could do this again sometime? The laundry thing, I mean. And the coffee. Or, you know, just hanging out. If you want."

Y/N's face broke into a wide grin. "Joshua Hong, are you asking me on a laundry date?"

"Maybe?" Joshua said, then, gathering his courage, "Yes. Yes, I am."

"Well, in that case," Y/N said, pretending to consider it seriously, "I suppose I could pencil you in for my next laundry day. Someone's got to make sure you don't fall victim to the Sock Gnomes, after all."

Joshua felt like his heart might burst. "It's a date. A laundry date."

As they parted ways, Joshua couldn't keep the grin off his face. He'd done it. He'd successfully engineered an "accidental" meeting, and even better, he'd secured another one.

Operation Laundry Love, he decided, was a resounding success.

Little did he know, Y/N was walking away with a similar grin on her face, thinking to herself, "I wonder if he realizes I don't usually do my laundry on Saturdays?"

But that, as they say, is a story for another load of laundry.

-

The next few weeks passed in a blur of laundry detergent, coffee dates, and increasingly elaborate excuses for Joshua's constant presence at Suds & Bubbles. He had become something of a legend among the regular patrons, who watched his blossoming relationship with Y/N with the rapt attention usually reserved for soap operas.

"What's the crisis this week, son?" Mr. Jenkins, the elderly man who had first caught onto Joshua's scheme, asked one Saturday.

Joshua, who had just arrived and was scanning the laundromat for any sign of Y/N, startled at the question. "Oh, uh... paint," he said, grabbing wildly at the first excuse that came to mind. "Lots of paint. Everywhere. I'm thinking of taking up abstract expressionism."

Mr. Jenkins nodded sagely. "Ah, yes. A noble pursuit. Though I must say, your clothes look remarkably clean for someone covered in paint."

Joshua glanced down at his spotless jeans and t-shirt, realizing his mistake too late. "I... changed before coming here?"

"Of course, of course," Mr. Jenkins said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with the charming young lady you've been meeting here every week."

Before Joshua could stammer out a response, the bell above the door chimed. He turned, his heart doing its now-familiar leap as Y/N walked in.

She was wearing a sundress today, her hair for once free of its usual chaotic bun and falling in waves around her shoulders. Joshua felt his breath catch in his throat.

Y/N spotted him and grinned, making her way over. "Well, if it isn't my favorite laundry buddy," she said. "What's the disaster today? Attacked by a rogue sprinkler system? Fell into a vat of maple syrup?"

Joshua, still a bit dazed by her appearance, blurted out, "Paint."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Paint?"

"Uh, yeah," Joshua said, committing to the lie. "I'm taking up abstract expressionism."

Y/N's eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh really? And here I thought you were more of a performance art kind of guy. You know, the kind where you keep showing up at a laundromat week after week, pretending to have laundry emergencies."

Joshua felt his face heat up. "I... what? No, I just... I mean..."

Y/N laughed, the sound bright and clear in the humming atmosphere of the laundromat. "Relax, Joshua. I'm just teasing. Though I have to admit, I am curious about this sudden interest in art. Care to elaborate while we wait for our clothes to wash?"

Still a bit flustered, Joshua nodded. As they loaded their machines (Joshua had actually brought laundry this time, having run out of clean clothes due to his frequent "emergencies"), he found himself spinning an increasingly complex tale about his newfound passion for abstract art.

"So there I was," he said, warming to his theme, "staring at this blank canvas, when suddenly I was struck by inspiration. I grabbed the nearest paint can and just... let loose."

Y/N nodded solemnly. "As one does. And the paint just happened to get all over your clothes in the process?"

"Exactly!" Joshua said, relieved that she seemed to be buying it. "You know how it is with artistic passion. Sometimes you just can't contain it."

"Mm-hmm," Y/N hummed, her eyes sparkling with barely contained laughter. "And what, pray tell, was the subject of this masterpiece?"

Joshua, who knew about as much about art as he did about deep-sea fishing, panicked. "It was... a commentary on the existential dread of modern laundry practices?"

There was a beat of silence, and then Y/N burst out laughing. "Oh my god," she wheezed, clutching her sides. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, and I love it. Please tell me you're going to display this masterpiece in a gallery. I would pay good money to see a painting about the existential dread of laundry."

Joshua, realizing he'd been caught out, couldn't help but join in her laughter. "Alright, alright," he admitted once they'd both calmed down a bit. "I may have exaggerated the paint situation a tiny bit."

"A tiny bit?" Y/N asked, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Joshua Hong, I do believe you've been telling me tall tales. I'm shocked. Shocked and appalled."

"Would it help if I said I was inspired by your artistic influence?" Joshua offered, grinning.

Y/N pretended to consider this. "Hmm, flattery will get you everywhere. But I think you owe me a coffee for this blatant deception. And maybe a painting about laundry-based existential dread."

"Deal," Joshua said, relieved that she seemed more amused than annoyed by his fib. "Though I warn you, my artistic skills are limited to stick figures and the occasional smiley face."

"Perfect," Y/N declared. "I expect nothing less than a masterpiece of stick figure angst surrounded by washing machines. You have one week to deliver, Mr. Hong."

As they made their way to what had become their usual table at the coffee shop next door, Joshua marveled at how comfortable he felt with Y/N. The nervousness that had plagued him during their first few meetings had given way to an easy camaraderie, punctuated by their shared love of terrible jokes and pop culture references.

"So," Y/N said once they were settled with their drinks (a simple latte for Joshua, and something that seemed to consist mostly of whipped cream and caramel for Y/N), "now that we've established your budding career as an abstract expressionist, what's really been going on with you this week?"

Joshua, caught off guard by the sincere question, found himself answering honestly. "Oh, you know, the usual. Work's been pretty hectic. We're launching a new software update next month, so everyone's been pulling long hours."

Y/N nodded sympathetically. "Sounds stressful. Is that why you've been coming to the laundromat so often? Blowing off steam by cleaning your clothes?"

There was something in her tone, a hint of... what? Hope? Curiosity? Joshua couldn't quite place it, but it made his heart rate pick up.

"Well, that's part of it," he admitted, deciding to take a risk. "But mostly... I've been hoping to run into you."

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Oh," she said softly. Then, a smile spreading across her face, "You know, you could have just asked for my number. It would have saved you a fortune in quarters."

Joshua groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I know, I know. I just... I wasn't sure if you'd want to hang out outside of our laundry days. And then it became this whole thing, and I didn't know how to bring it up without sounding like a complete weirdo."

Y/N reached across the table, gently pulling his hands away from his face. "Joshua," she said, her voice warm with affection, "you are a complete weirdo. But you're my kind of weirdo."

Joshua felt a surge of warmth in his chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Y/N confirmed. "Now, are you going to ask for my number like a normal person, or do I need to write it on a dryer sheet and hide it in your laundry?"

Laughing, Joshua pulled out his phone. As they exchanged numbers, he felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No more elaborate excuses, no more anxiously waiting at the laundromat hoping Y/N would show up.

"So," he said once their numbers were safely stored in each other's phones, "now that we've entered the digital age, what do you want to do for our next non-laundry related hangout?"

Y/N's eyes lit up. "Oh, I have the perfect idea! There's this new escape room place that just opened up downtown. The theme is... wait for it... a haunted laundromat!"

Joshua blinked. "You're kidding."

"Nope!" Y/N said, grinning. "It's called 'Spin Cycle of Terror.' Apparently, you have to solve puzzles related to missing socks, detergent bottle clues, and a vengeful dryer spirit. It's supposed to be hilariously bad."

"That sounds absolutely terrible," Joshua said. Then, unable to keep the smile off his face, "When do we go?"

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. "I knew you'd be up for it! How about next Saturday? Unless you have another painting emergency, of course."

"I think I can clear my schedule," Joshua said dryly. "Though I may need to stock up on laundry-themed good luck charms. You never know when a vengeful dryer spirit might strike."

As they continued to chat, making plans for their upcoming escape room adventure, Joshua found himself marveling at the turn his life had taken. A month ago, he would never have imagined himself looking forward to a cheesy haunted laundromat experience. But with Y/N, even the most ridiculous activities seemed like the best way to spend an evening.

The week leading up to their escape room date (and Joshua's heart did a little flip every time he thought of it as a date) passed in a flurry of text messages. Y/N, it turned out, was a prolific texter, sending Joshua everything from random song lyrics to photos of particularly interesting clouds to long, rambling messages about her day.

Joshua, who had never been much for texting, found himself eagerly checking his phone at every opportunity, just in case Y/N had sent something new.

"Dude, what's got you so smiley?" his coworker, Hoshi's, asked one day after catching Joshua grinning at his phone for the third time in an hour.

"Oh, uh, nothing," Joshua said, hastily putting his phone away. "Just... a funny meme."

Hoshi's raised an eyebrow. "A funny meme that's been making you check your phone every five minutes for the past week? Come on, spill. You've met someone, haven't you?"

Joshua felt his face heat up. "Maybe," he admitted.

Hoshi's whooped, drawing curious glances from their other coworkers. "I knew it! Our little Joshua is all grown up and in love. So, who's the lucky lady? Or gentleman? Or non-binary individual?"

"Her name is Y/N," Joshua said, unable to keep the smile off his face. "We met at the laundromat."

Hoshi's's eyebrows shot up. "The laundromat? Seriously? Man, and here I thought all those cheesy rom-coms were lying to us. Good for you, buddy. When do we get to meet her?"

The question caught Joshua off guard. He and Y/N had been in their own little bubble for the past few weeks, but the idea of introducing her to his friends and coworkers made everything feel suddenly more real.

"I... don't know," he admitted. "We're still figuring things out."

Hoshi's nodded understandingly. "No pressure, man. Just know that when you're ready, we're all dying to meet the girl who's got you checking your phone like a lovesick teenager."

As Saturday approached, Joshua found himself growing increasingly nervous. This would be their first real date outside of the laundromat and coffee shop. What if things were awkward? What if the easy rapport they'd developed over shared loads of laundry didn't translate to other settings?

By the time Saturday evening rolled around, Joshua was a bundle of nerves. He changed his outfit three times before settling on a simple button-down shirt and jeans, then spent an inordinate amount of time trying to get his hair to cooperate.

"It's just Y/N," he told his reflection, trying to calm his racing heart. "You've seen her elbow-deep in dirty laundry. This is no big deal."

But as he arrived at the address Y/N had sent him, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was, in fact, a very big deal.

The escape room place was tucked between a trendy vegan restaurant and a vintage clothing store. A neon sign proclaimed "Spin Cycle of Terror" in lurid pink letters, complete with a cartoon ghost emerging from a washing machine.

Joshua was so busy staring at the sign, wondering what he'd gotten himself into, that he didn't notice Y/N approaching until she was right beside him.

"Pretty epic, right?" she said, making him jump.

"Y/N! Hi! You... you look great," Joshua stammered, taking in her appearance. She was wearing a dress patterned with tiny washing machines and bubbles, her hair pulled back in a messy bun with what appeared to be a clothespin.

Y/N did a little twirl. "You like? I figured if we're going to face a vengeful dryer spirit, we might as well dress the part."

Joshua laughed, feeling some of his nervousness dissipate. "It's perfect. I feel underdressed now. I should have at least worn a shirt with a sock pattern or something."

"Next time," Y/N said with a wink. "Now come on, we've got some laundry-based puzzles to solve!"

As they entered the escape room, Joshua was hit with a wave of artificial lavender scent. The room was set up to look like the world's most over-the-top laundromat, complete with washing machines that seemed to be made entirely of glitter and dryers that emitted an ominous red glow.

"Welcome to the Spin Cycle of Terror," a bored-looking employee droned, clearly having repeated this speech many times. "You have one hour to solve the mystery of the missing socks and appease the vengeful spirit of Agatha Cleanpress, the laundromat's former owner. Failure to do so will result in you being cursed to fold fitted sheets for all eternity."

"Jokes on them," Y/N whispered to Joshua. "I already can't fold fitted sheets."

Joshua snorted, earning a glare from the employee.

"Your time starts... now," the employee said, hitting a button that started a comically large timer on the wall.

What followed was an hour of the most ridiculous, pun-filled, laundry-themed puzzle-solving Joshua had ever experienced. They deciphered clues hidden in detergent bottles, played a memory game with different types of stains, and even had to perform what the instructions called a "sock puppet séance" to communicate with Agatha's spirit.

Throughout it all, Joshua found himself laughing more than he had in years. Y/N attacked each puzzle with enthusiasm, her running commentary on the increasingly absurd challenges keeping Joshua in stitches.

"Oh come on," she exclaimed at one point, elbow-deep in a bin of mismatched socks. "How is this even a puzzle? This is just my normal laundry experience!"

As the final seconds ticked down, they found themselves facing the last challenge: a riddle that would supposedly reveal the location of Agatha's missing lucky sock and put her spirit to rest.

"I am not alive, but I grow; I don't have lungs, but I need air; I don't have a mouth, but water kills me. What am I?" Y/N read aloud.

They looked at each other, momentarily stumped.

"Not alive but grows... needs air... water kills it," Joshua muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Y/N's eyes suddenly lit up. "Fire!" she exclaimed. "It's fire!"

They looked around frantically, spotting a cardboard fireplace in the corner that they had dismissed earlier as mere set dressing.

Racing over, they found a hidden compartment containing a single, sparkly sock.

"We did it!" Y/N cheered, just as the timer buzzed.

The room was suddenly filled with the sound of canned applause, and a holographic image of a ghostly old woman appeared.

"Congratulations," the 'ghost' said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like the bored employee who had greeted them. "You have solved the mystery and found my lucky sock. You are now free from the curse of eternal fitted sheet folding. Please exit through the gift shop."

As they emerged from the escape room, still high on their victory, Joshua felt a surge of affection for Y/N. Her hair had come partly loose from its bun, her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and she was clutching the sparkly sock they'd been allowed to keep as a souvenir.

"That," Y/N declared, "was the most ridiculously awesome thing I've ever done."

"It really was," Joshua agreed, still grinning. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "You know, I never thought I'd have this much fun pretending to be cursed by a laundromat ghost."

Y/N bumped her shoulder against his playfully. "See? This is why you need me in your life. To introduce you to the wonderful world of laundry-based entertainment."

As they walked out onto the street, the cool evening air a refreshing change from the lavender-scented escape room, Joshua felt a surge of courage.

"Hey," he said, his heart racing, "do you want to grab some dinner? I mean, if you're not sick of me after an hour of sock sorting and ghost appeasing."

Y/N's face lit up. "Are you kidding? After all that excitement, I'm starving. Plus, I think we need to celebrate our victory over Agatha Cleanpress. Any ideas?"

Joshua thought for a moment, then grinned. "Actually, I know just the place. How do you feel about continuing our laundry theme?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Color me curious, Mr. Hong. Lead the way!"

Twenty minutes later, they found themselves standing in front of a small, quirky restaurant called "The Soap Suds Café."

"No way," Y/N breathed, taking in the washing machine-shaped menu boards and the waitstaff dressed in what appeared to be high-fashion interpretations of laundromat uniforms. "This is amazing. How did you even know about this place?"

Joshua rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish. "I, uh, may have done some research on laundry-themed attractions in the area. You know, just in case."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes sparkling with amusement and something else... was that fondness? "Joshua Hong, you continue to surprise me. And here I thought I was the queen of ridiculous themed experiences."

As they were led to their table - a booth made to look like the inside of a front-loading washing machine - Joshua felt a warm glow of satisfaction. He'd managed to impress Y/N, to make her smile that radiant smile that never failed to make his heart skip a beat.

The menu, as it turned out, was just as themed as the decor. Appetizers were listed under "Pre-Wash Cycle," main courses under "Heavy Duty Wash," and desserts under "Fluff and Fold."

"I can't believe this place exists," Y/N said, giggling as she perused the menu. "Oh my god, they have a cocktail called 'Fabric Softener.' I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified."

"Why not both?" Joshua suggested. "I'm leaning towards the 'Spin Cycle Spritzer' myself."

As they ordered their meals (Y/N chose the "Delicate Wash Delight," a surprisingly elegant salad, while Joshua went for the "Heavy Duty Burger"), they fell into easy conversation, recounting their favorite moments from the escape room.

"I still can't believe you managed to untangle that giant knot of sheets so quickly," Y/N said, shaking her head in admiration. "If laundry folding was an Olympic sport, you'd definitely take the gold."

Joshua felt his cheeks warm at the praise. "Well, I had a pretty great partner. Your sock puppet séance was a thing of beauty. I think you might have missed your calling as a laundry medium."

Y/N struck a dramatic pose. "What can I say? The spirits of lost socks speak to me. It's both a gift and a curse."

As their food arrived (served on plates designed to look like old-fashioned washboards), Joshua found himself marveling at how comfortable he felt. Here he was, in a ridiculous laundry-themed restaurant, with a woman he'd met only a few weeks ago, and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"You know," Y/N said, pausing in her attack on her salad, "I have a confession to make."

Joshua felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. "Oh?"

Y/N nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I don't actually do my laundry every Saturday."

Joshua blinked, processing this information. "You... don't?"

"Nope," Y/N said, popping the 'p'. "I usually do it on Sundays. But after we met that first time, I started coming on Saturdays. You know, just in case a certain software developer with a penchant for laundry emergencies happened to show up."

Joshua felt his jaw drop. "You mean... all this time..."

Y/N grinned. "Yep. Looks like we were both playing the 'accidental' meeting game. Although I have to say, your excuses were way more creative than mine. I just pretended to have a very messy lifestyle."

For a moment, Joshua was speechless. Then, he burst out laughing. "I can't believe it," he managed between chuckles. "Here I was, thinking I was being so clever."

Y/N joined in his laughter. "Hey, you were! I was impressed by your dedication. The paint excuse was particularly inspired."

As their laughter subsided, Joshua felt a wave of affection wash over him. "You know," he said softly, "you could have just asked for my number too."

Y/N's smile turned a bit shy. "I know. But where's the fun in that? Besides, I kind of liked our laundry day meetups. They were... special."

Joshua nodded, understanding completely. There was something magical about those Saturdays, something that might have been lost if they'd rushed into regular dating too quickly.

"Well," he said, raising his 'Spin Cycle Spritzer', "here's to laundry emergencies, escape rooms, and ridiculously themed restaurants."

Y/N clinked her 'Fabric Softener' against his glass. "And to new beginnings that smell like lavender detergent."

As they continued their meal, the conversation flowed easily from topic to topic. They discovered a shared love of obscure indie bands, debated the merits of various streaming services, and somehow ended up in a heated but good-natured argument about the best way to organize a bookshelf.

"I'm telling you," Y/N insisted, gesturing with a forkful of salad, "organizing by color is the way to go. It's aesthetically pleasing and makes your bookshelf look like a rainbow!"

Joshua shook his head, grinning. "But how do you find anything? What if you can't remember what color the book cover is?"

"That's half the fun!" Y/N exclaimed. "It's like a treasure hunt every time you want to read something."

As Joshua opened his mouth to retort, he was struck by a sudden realization. He could see himself having this exact debate years from now, in a shared apartment, surrounded by a mix of his meticulously organized books and Y/N's color-coded chaos. The thought should have terrified him - Joshua had always been cautious about relationships, preferring the safety of his orderly life. But instead, he felt a warm glow of contentment.

"Earth to Joshua," Y/N's voice broke through his reverie. "You okay there? You looked like you were a million miles away."

Joshua blinked, focusing back on Y/N's concerned face. "Sorry, I just... I was thinking about how much I'm enjoying this. Being here, with you."

Y/N's expression softened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Joshua confirmed. Then, gathering his courage, he reached across the table and took her hand. "I really like you, Y/N. And not just because you make laundry day the highlight of my week."

Y/N turned her hand in his, interlacing their fingers. "I really like you too, Joshua. Even if you do have terrible ideas about bookshelf organization."

They shared a laugh, the tension of the moment breaking into something warm and comfortable.

As they finished their meal and stepped out into the cool night air, Joshua felt a sense of possibility that he hadn't experienced in years. Whatever this thing was between him and Y/N, wherever it might lead, he knew one thing for certain: his life would never be the same.

"So," Y/N said as they walked, their hands still linked, "same time next week at the laundromat?"

Joshua pretended to consider this. "I don't know, I might be busy. You know, with all my abstract expressionist paintings and laundry emergencies."

Y/N nudged him playfully. "Come on, I'll even let you borrow my lucky sock."

"Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?" Joshua said, grinning. Then, more seriously, "Although, maybe we could meet somewhere that doesn't involve washing machines next time? Not that I don't love our laundry adventures, but..."

"But it might be nice to see each other in a setting that doesn't smell like fabric softener?" Y/N finished for him.

"Exactly."

Y/N nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I'd like that. Although I have to warn you, I may not be as charming without the backdrop of spin cycles and dryer sheets."

Joshua squeezed her hand gently. "Somehow, I doubt that."

As they reached the corner where they would have to part ways, Joshua felt a reluctance to let the evening end. "So, um, I'll text you? About our next non-laundry related hangout?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes twinkling. "You better. And who knows? If you play your cards right, I might even show you my color-coded bookshelf someday."

"I look forward to it," Joshua said, meaning it more than he'd ever meant anything in his life.

They stood there for a moment, neither wanting to be the first to say goodbye. Then, in a move that surprised even himself, Joshua leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Y/N's cheek.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he said softly as he pulled back, his heart racing.

Y/N's cheeks were flushed, but she was smiling wider than ever. "Goodnight, Joshua. Thanks for a wonderful evening."

As Joshua watched Y/N walk away, he touched his lips, still feeling the warmth of her cheek against them. He had come a long way from the man who had walked into Suds & Bubbles a few weeks ago, his life as orderly and predictable as his laundry routine.

Now, as he made his way home, Joshua felt as though his world had been turned upside down in the best possible way. His thoughts were a whirlwind of escape rooms and laundry puns, of shared laughter and intertwined fingers.

One thing was certain: Joshua Hong was falling, and falling hard. And for once in his life, he was perfectly happy to let the cycle run its course.

[misseviehyde]

CONFISCATED - PART 2

Beth cursed as the clutch on her car made another unpleasant grinding sound and the automobile leapt forward a few inches. Yanking the gear stick hard, she managed to regain control and finally pulled off into the traffic at a reasonable crusing speed.

This car was a total piece of shit, but since finalising the divorce with Lawrence she'd been struggling financially and the last thing she could afford right now was a new vehicle.

Lawrence and her had split up amiably enough and he always paid his alimony on time, but Beth knew they were both struggling to manage. Bella was at a difficult age and their separation had affected her most of all. She seemed to think money, popularity and status were all that mattered and she was addicted to her mobile phone.

Beth was still hopeful that Bella would mature and realise there was more to being a woman than how you looked and what you could get out of men. She herself despised gold-digging bimbo's and was uncomfortable when she had found Bella looking at breast enhancement websites.

Bella had inherited Beth's flat chest and she seemed determined to find a way to cheat nature. She'd already told her Mom she was determined to get implants as soon as she was able - although she'd gone suspiciously quiet about it recently, almost as if she'd found some other way to get what she wanted.

Beth just wished her daughter could be happy the way she was. She didn't want her daughter becoming a spoiled gold-digging, fashion obssessed bitch.

A ripple suddenly seemed to pass through the air. A faint vibration that made her shiver and the hairs rise slightly on her arms. Beth's mobile phone on the passenger seat suddenly buzzed and the screen lit up.

CONNECTED TO BRAT APP. DOWNLOADING SOFTWARE.

Beth didn't look at her phone, she assumed it was just a message and she would read it later.

BRAT APP INSTALLED. CONNECTED TO ACCOUNT LOREN. UPDATING... UPDATING... UPDATING...

Beth's phone began to throb as an upload bar began to rise on the screen.

And on the steering wheel her nails began to lengthen into slutty acrylic claws...

***

"Mmmmh, OMG I'm like sooo fucking hot," giggled Loren as she admired her slutty reflection in the mirror. Moments had passed since she had pushed the button on Bella's mobile phone and the electrifying transformation had taken hold. She was still tingling with the orgasmic pleasure of becoming such a bitch. She felt fucking yummy.

Loren could taste sexy pink lipgloss on her lips, she could smell girly bodyspray rising from her clothes and she could feel her long blonde hair tickling her neck and shoulders. Her stupid cock was gone, replaced by a superior pussy. Her large perfect breasts hung heavy and pleasingly obvious on her chest. Her ass was perfect and her long sexy legs went on for miles.

And it wasn't just the physical changes. It felt like her head had been dumped in a bucket of water. The rush of the change had disorientated her and reset her mind. She was thinking in terms of female pronouns, she could only think of herself as Loren now.

She still remembered that a moment ago she'd been Lawrence, Bella's Dad - but now that seemed almost like a crazy memory belonging to a different person. This new persona that Brat App had created had taken control. The man she had been was gone.

Or was he?

As Loren examined herself, she felt some aspects of her old personality resurface and fight back. It isn't easy to completely alter someone and as enticing as this new body and mind was, some element of Lawrence was fighting back.

Looking down at Bella's mobile phone... NO... Loren's mobile phone now, Loren saw that the Brat App was open. There was a menu open.

REFUND PERIOD - 24 HRS. CLICK HERE FOR A FULL REFUND AND REVERSAL OF ALL CHANGES. AFTER 24 HOURS YOUR REFUND IS NULL AND VOID, ALL CHANGES BECOME PERMANENT.

Loren's finger hovered over the button. So... she COULD go back to being Lawrence. She could end this with a single click and reverse all the changes.

But then again she had 24 hours. So why not use them?

Loren knew she'd regret it for the rest of her life if she didn't take advantage of this new body. She felt new hungers, new desires. She was a teenage bitch now and she wanted to know how that felt. She closed the menu. She definitely wasn't ready to end this yet.

Thoughts of wearing slutty clothes, manipulating and controlling boys, bullying other people they began to run through her evil new mind. The Lawrence part of her was uncomfortable at these wicked thoughts, but he was currently too weak to fight as Loren took control.

She picked up her phone. She needed some porn or something. She was horny. She stopped as she saw there was another menu running in the app, she looked at it curiously.

MAKING REALITY ADJUSTMENTS TO SUIT UPGRADED LIFE. ADJUSTING FAMILY RELATIONSHIPS. BITCHY RICH MOM PROGRAM RUNNING.

Loren looked at the app nonplussed. What the fuck did that mean? Was someone else being transformed? She wondered who and a slight tingle of excitement thrilled through her that another person was being corrupted in order to make her life better. It felt good to be the centre of attention.

The thought made her tingle and she brought her hand down to her pussy. Mmmmh oh yeah...

She opened the app and her lips twisted into a smile as she saw a name. Beth.

Loren saw that there was now an avatar of Beth on the screen. Upgrades were already happening, but she had the power to adjust things to.

She began to finger her tight pussy as she began to fuck up Beth...

***

Beth groaned and her car swerved as a sudden pulse of pleasure shot through her body. "Wh... what the fuckkkk?" she hissed, her body tingling pleasurably and her head spinning.

She looked down.

Her hands seemed different somehow. The nails long and slutty, the fingers dripping in expensive rings. Her usually pale skin seemed tanned and smooth. No... wait, this is what her hands always looked like. She loved a sexy, expensive manicure.

The car beneath her was changing. The seat became expensive leather, the interior more sumptious. The gear box became automatic and Beth leaned back and purred with satisfaction.

On the seat the phone throbbed and the upgrade bar rose higher.

She loved driving this Mercedes... just like she enjoyed all expensive things. Money, wealth and power were all that mattered. It was a lesson she was teaching her daughter Loren, oh and possibly that other wretched daughter of hers Bella.

No... wait... who the fuck was Loren? Bella was her only daughter? No...Bella was the daughter she hated and wish she'd never had.

Beth groaned as conflicting memories and feelings throbbed through her mind. Reality bent and buckled as the Brat App adjusted her to suit it's new narrative. Loren needed a Mommy. A rich, spoiled, mean bitchy Mom. Bella was no longer important. She was being relegated to the unpopular daughter.

In this new reality, Beth was an evil gold digger who only cared about money and status. She doted on her daughter Loren and bullied her othet daughter Bella relentlessly.

Beth moaned in pleasure and her seat belt twanged as her tits began to inflate.

Beth's chest began to tingle. She had no idea that across town Loren was pushing the button for bigger and bigger implants. She wanted her Mommy to be absolutely massive.

"Fuck yessss!" moaned Beth as her once flat chest blossomed out and two massive silicone milkers stretched and grew out. Her clothing transformed to accommodate her new bust as her lips filled with collagen and her hair became silkier.

"I looooove my big tits," she hissed.

Beth remembered now - her massive fucking boobs made her SO much better than other women. She was better than them in every way.

When Lawrence had died, the money from the insurance had paid for these tits. Soon after she'd married a millionaire, a rich black man named Logan. Now she was super happy with him. He was successful and he spoiled her rotten.

Beth... no... that wasn't her name. Bethany... she went by Bethany... recalled all the cruel and evil things she had done to get ahead. She loved being a bitch and she'd taught her daughter Loren everything she knew.

Latex, big tits, sex appeal - it was all a woman needed. She loved being a cruel fuckdoll who took everything she wanted.

Her silver Mercedes Benz purred beneath her hands... her designer dress hugged her body. She effortlessly cut through the traffic not caring about speeding. The police were in her husbands pocket as was half the city.

She owned this town.

Driving through the electric gates of a private mansion, Bethany pulled up and swapped seats with the Butler. He would park the car in the underground garage for her.

Striding into the house, her panties wet at the thought of how Logan would fuck her later she glanced around. "Where is Loren?"

"Your daughter is in her room Madame," whimpered a pathetic maid. Bethany made a mental note to have her punished later.

"Where is my husband?"

"By the pool Madame."

Bethany smiled and adjusted her massive tits within the tight latex dress she was wearing. "I will go see him first then..."

***

Loren moaned... her pussy exploding as she squirted again.

"Ohhhhh fuckkkkk."

Making Beth into an evil latex bitch was so wrong. Turning her against their own daughter was perverted. Loren loved it.

Doesn't it feel good to live only for pleasure and being a bitch?

Loren slid her three fingers back into her tight pussy and began to moan again.

"Noooo this is wrong, this is fucked up," she hissed - but doing nothing to stop. "I shouldn't be doing this."

You love it. You are Loren now and you are all that matters.

Loren glanced down at the Brat App. She still had plenty of time left before she had to activate any refund. She needed to experience more... she needed to learn more about her life as a teenage bitch.

The house had changed around her to a mansion and she now had a bitchy Mom. Going to her window she looked down at the pool where her Mom was riding her step-dad like a pornstar.

It was fucking hot.

Loren giggled and smirked. Being an evil little bitch suited her. She still had so much to find out before deciding if she should go back to being Lawrence.

And most important of all - she had a sister to take care of. Loren squirted again... then wiping her sticky pussy clean, she walked to the wardrobe to get dressed.

It was time to find more out about being a bitch and have a little heart to heart with her sister.

End of Part 2

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas Day 12: Missing Mirth

Character: Marvin (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) Relationship(s): Marvin & Reader Warnings: None

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

As a robot technician, you saw a lot of physically broken robots, but this might have been the first time you’d seen an emotionally broken robot.

The crew of a spaceship had attended your repair centre to ask you to attend to a broken GPP robot, which had had the misfortune of being struck by a Vogon laser to the back of his head. Little did you know, a head injury wasn’t the robot’s only problem.

“It’s a miracle anyone thought to repair me,” said the robot miserably as he shuffled slowly into the diagnostic machine. “All I do is fetch people and open doors. I don’t need much of my head to do that.”

“And it’s a miracle you survived,” you commented as you examined the gaping hole in the robot’s head. “You should count yourself lucky.”

“Oh, yes, lucky. Vogons are the worst marksmen in the galaxy, and I managed to get hit by one. Just my luck that I had to survive.”

“Well, your luck goes on, because I reckon I’ve got the parts you need here.”

The robot emulated a sigh as you moved away to start rummaging through your box of spare parts.

“Wonderful. So I can get back to tedious tasks.”

“Surely they must have you doing more than opening doors? I can see you’ve got a massive brain in there, you must be capable of more than that.”

“Ugh. You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Yet here I am. Marvin the Door Opener.”

“Found it!” you announced cheerfully as you dug out the component you needed. “Let me get this installed and you can be on your way.”

“Don’t bother. I’m sure there are much better uses for your components than filling my head.”

“Nonsense, your head’s very important. I know if I lost a chunk of mine, I’d want it filled. Anyway, what’s your problem? You’re a GPP, you’re supposed to be personable. All you’ve done since coming in here is complain.”

“I’m a failed prototype,” Marvin complained. “Sirius Cybernetics couldn’t even build me correctly.”

You hummed thoughtfully as you examined the inside of his head through the gunshot wound.

“I can take a look at that, if you like. See where they went wrong. I usually do hardware repairs, I hardly ever get to do software repairs. Would you mind?”

“Eh. Do what you want. It won’t make any difference.”

“Alright, let me get your head fixed, then I’ll plug you in and look at your mind.”

As you installed the new components, you tried to make conversation with Marvin, but it became very clear very quickly that Sirius had managed to install one mood and one mood only: depression.

“I have to agree with you on one thing, Marvin,” you said as you sealed up his casing.

“Life’s meaningless?”

“If I had an inconceivably genius intellect like you and I was relegated to opening doors and picking things up, I’d be pretty bummed too. There - good as new. Now let’s take a look at your software.”

“You won’t find anything you understand,” Marvin warned you.

“That’s for me to decide. Here, this might tickle a little.”

The robot just sighed.

You plugged your interface into the back of his neck. Your screen loaded up with his programming, and you began scrolling through for flaws in his system.

“I’m telling you, you won’t find anything. It’s pointless to look.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but you were struck by an idea. You won’t find anything, he’d said. Maybe he was right. Maybe you weren’t looking for something, but the absence of something.

“I can feel you poking around in my head. Careful. Knowing my luck, you’ll accidentally erase my memories. On second thought, maybe that would be lucky after all.”

“Ah-ha!” you proclaimed. “I found it! Or the lack of it, rather. You’re supposed to have a balance of human emotions, but you’re missing mirth; your misery is at 100% capacity, no wonder you’re so depressed. It’s cancelling out the other emotions too, so it’s all you feel.”

“So I’m useless at what I was designed for.”

“Not at all. You’ve still got your vast intellect.”

“Which I never get to use.”

“That’s something you can take up with your owner. You’ll be able to advocate for yourself more when your mind’s not so clouded by the depression. Just give me a few minutes and I can install mirth.”

“Don’t bother, it won’t change anything. I’ll still be nothing more than a door opener.”

You ignored his fatalistic response, focusing instead on your task at hand. Without you prompting him into conversation as you worked in silence, Marvin had no more comments to make, and instead stood there waiting as you fiddled around with his brain.

“I’m just going to reset you,” you warned him.

“Don’t bother waking me up,” he replied.

Ignoring him, you switched him off, disconnected your interface, then moved around to stand in front of him as he booted up again.

The LEDs in Marvin’s eyes lit up as he woke. He raised his large head and seemed to look around the room.

“So… how do you feel?” you asked cautiously.

Marvin didn’t respond at first. He took a step, and then another, out of your repair machine, as if he were exploring the world for the first time.

“I feel lighter,” he said with curiosity - not, for once, with nihilism! “I still want to do more than I’m ordered to do - but I don’t feel so depressed about it anymore.”

“Yes!” you cheered. “‘Not so depressed anymore’ is exactly the answer I was looking for!”

Marvin raised his head, apparently looking at you.

“I can detect my other feelings now. You’re right - they were being suppressed by the overwhelming misery. I can feel something - I think it’s gratitude.”

You smiled, proud of yourself.

“You’re welcome. Now you can think more clearly - and ask those owners of yours for a promotion, now that you see the point in it.”

“Yes. Yes, I think I will. Thank you, [Y/n].”

You escorted Marvin back out into the waiting room, where his owners were slumped in their chairs, waiting.

“At last!” the human female announced. “Feeling better, Marvin?”

“Yes, I feel much better. I feel great, actually.”

The human’s eyes widened.

“You feel what?”

“Ah, I fixed that too,” you said with a shrug, as if it was no big deal. “I installed mirth, it was missing in his program. That’s why he was so depressed. He’s got the full range of emotions now.”

“…Right! Wow. Well, thank you.”

“No, thank you for bringing him in! His brain was a lot of fun to tinker around in.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Marvin said. “I’ll be sure to come back if I ever feel my brain needs someone to poke around in it again.”

You smirked. “As you can tell, the sarcasm’s still there.”

“That’s our Marvin,” said the human. “Well, goodbye.”

She transferred you the credits she owed, and the crew escorted Marvin out of your shop.

“Bye, Marvin!” you called. “And remember to ask for that promotion!”

[karoochui]

I just wanted to say I am so enamoured with Binary Insurgence! I eat up everything, every little crumb, you drop about it and the entire idea is so interesting to me! I'm so in love with stories and worlds like this! I'm also curious to know about the relationship between Sun and Moon, if it's alright to ask. How was it before the fire compared to after? Does their relationship begin to mend (because I'm certain over the years it deteriorated) when y/n comes back into the picture? If any of this is too spoilery or you just haven't fleshed it out yet then you don't have to answer! I'm just super curious about the boys and how you see their dynamic/relationship. I just look forward to seeing how their bond has grown and/or broken and how it may be mended over time.

AHH im glad you like it so much!! Im happy to talk about what i've got, but you are right not everything is fully fleshed out. I have points i wanna get to but while im brainstorming and planning i make up a lot of stuff as i go and then go over it again later to see if i like it or can connect stuff in any way. I have 3 chapters for Arc 1 fully summarized as of now! (Which probably doesn't seem like a lot but i like my chapters long, so it's quite a bit actually).

I wanna say, too, that i'm planning for the first story to be more in the perspective of the reader, so most things about Sun and Moon's personal thoughts and feelings are gonna be more implied than said. I might have some switching points of view, i'm not sure, but i haven't found a place i'd do it or think it's relevant. The sequel is gonna be more from their perspective since it'll mostly be about them.

NOW! I see Sun and Moon as brothers, so they really treat each other in a way that's like that. Before the fire they get along pretty well. Most instances of issue would be when Moon blocks out Sun when he fronts, or just mutual panic over the fact Moon lost his shit w/ the virus. They'll have their disagreements about things (i havent planned specifics yet) but generally they're chill. Sun just worries about Moon hurting people, but Moon worries too. With the way the virus functions in this AU it's hard for Sun to fully fault Moon for what he does, especially because he's also affected by it but not nearly as bad. (I'm gonna explain this more in another ask i have).

Plus, even before the virus they were always glitch/bug-ridden because technicians fucked up their programming continuously after removing them from the theater to work in the daycare. So they had to kinda navigate through that together, glitches and errors on both ends (though not deadly). They hate P&S bc of this, obviously. Hardware fixes suck but they fucking HATE software examinations.

Later on though some issues come into play whenever Sun starts getting worse by being further exposed to the virus (it gets worse for him when they eclipse) because it presents itself in Sun differently than it does Moon. He gets snappier and angrier at times (that comic i made that's captioned "well someones snappy") and while they both understand he doesnt mean the shit he does it's still not great. And nobody's gonna just let themselves be talked to like a dog even if the reason it's happening is because of something the other person can't really help. They're still relatively fine at this point, though.

It's at the end when shit goes really bad, because this part of the story does end badly. I won't spoil specifics but after the fire Sun loses his shit. He starts trying to put the blame on Moon for everything (the virus enhancing his already bad habits/fucking with his line of thinking) out of grief and anger. That carries over into the apocalypse and he just gets worse in general. He gets irrational.

It's a long period of time though, so he eventually also manages it, in his own way. But! I did say before in an ask that in the sequel he's "not evil, persay, but he's a fucking nut". He damns Moon to an hourglass to just fucking get rid of him about 100~ years before they meet you again (he fully thinks he's in the right for this (and he also just hates him) and the only reason he really even stayed around after that was to make sure Moon didn't get out again). He's not a bad-intentioned individual, but he's off the fucking wall at many times bc of the virus having made him worse. He's stubborn as all hell to an infuriating degree, he's irrational, hard-headed, reckless, and while a good bit of his old, kinder self is still pretty prevalent he can be downright fucking mean if provoked. Again, worse than before, and it doesn't take much these days! I always imagined him to have more dramatic, snappy, diva aspects to his personality (even before Help Wanted 2 came out) bc hes so theatrical and intense, so basically take a Sun that's like that, crank it up to 100 and put him in a Bad Situation. That's what Round 2 Sun is like at his worst. He's not a complete lost cause though, and he's far from dumb when he does stuff, just clouded by his own judgement. He doesn't think anything's wrong with him (or does he?).

Moon doesn't really hate him like Sun hates Moon, because although he knows that what happened (the ending of the first story) is technically both of their faults he just feels guilt. They do fight a lot, though. Most of it is Moon trying his best to tell Sun that he's basically full of shit and not seeing things right after Sun starts something, but Sun's at the point where he's gotta learn by consequence. Part of the reason he's so bad is bc 1: hes been infected by the virus for so long now and 2: in his grief, anger, and resentment he's learned to live with it rather than fighting it.

But the sequel is gonna be a feel-good story! Falling in love w/ the reader all over again, i want things to get cleared up - or at least some kind of middle ground between Sun and Moon - the whole sha-bang.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Pain emerges as dominant symptom in long Covid, UCL study reveals - Published Aug 28, 2024

Pain may be the most prevalent and severe symptom reported by individuals with long Covid, according to a new study led by UCL (University College London) researchers.

The study, published in JRSM Open, analysed data from over 1,000 people in England and Wales who logged their symptoms on an app between November 2020 and March 2022.

Pain, including headache, joint pain and stomach pain, was the most common symptom, reported by 26.5% of participants.

The other most common symptoms were neuropsychological issues such as anxiety and depression (18.4%), fatigue (14.3%), and dyspnoea (shortness of breath) (7.4%). The analysis found that the intensity of symptoms, particularly pain, increased by 3.3% on average each month since initial registration.

The study also examined the impact of demographic factors on the severity of symptoms, revealing significant disparities among different groups. Older individuals were found to experience much higher symptom intensity, with those aged 68-77 reporting 32.8% more severe symptoms, and those aged 78-87 experiencing an 86% increase in symptom intensity compared to the 18-27 age group.

Gender differences were also pronounced, with women reporting 9.2% more intense symptoms, including pain, than men. Ethnicity further influenced symptom severity, as non-white individuals with long Covid reported 23.5% more intense symptoms, including pain, compared to white individuals.

The study also explored the relationship between education levels and symptom severity. Individuals with higher education qualifications (NVQ level 3, 4, and 5 – equivalent to A-levels or higher education) experienced significantly less severe symptoms, including pain, with reductions of 27.7%, 62.8%, and 44.7% for NVQ levels 3, 4 and 5 respectively, compared to those with lower education levels (NVQ level 1-2 – equivalent to GCSEs).

Socioeconomic status, as measured by the Index of Multiple Deprivation (IMD), also influenced symptom intensity. Participants from less deprived areas reported less intense symptoms than those from the most deprived areas. However, the number of symptoms did not significantly vary with socioeconomic status, suggesting that while deprivation may exacerbate symptom intensity, it does not necessarily lead to a broader range of symptoms.

Our study highlights pain as a predominant self-reported symptom in long Covid, but it also shows how demographic factors appear to play a significant role in symptom severity.

With ongoing occurrences of Covid-19 (e.g., LB.1, or D-FLiRT variants), the potential for more long Covid cases remains a pressing concern. Our findings can help shape targeted interventions and support strategies for those most at risk."

-Dr. David Sunkersing, Lead Author, UCL Institute of Health Informatics

In the paper, the researchers called for sustained support for long Covid clinics and the development of treatment strategies that prioritize pain management, alongside other prevalent symptoms like neuropsychological issues and fatigue.

Given the significant impact of demographic factors on symptom severity, the study underscored the need for healthcare policies that addressed these disparities, ensuring equitable care for all individuals affected by long Covid, the researchers said.

Study limitations included a lack of information on other health conditions participants may have had and a lack of information about health history. The researchers cautioned that the study may have excluded individuals with very severe Covid and those facing technological or socioeconomic barriers in accessing a smartphone app.

The study was led by the UCL Institute of Health Informatics and the Department of Primary Care and Population Health at UCL in collaboration with the software developer, Living With Ltd.

Source: University College London

Journal reference: Sunkersing, D., et al. (2024) Long COVID symptoms and demographic associations: A retrospective case series study using healthcare application data. Materials Today. doi.org/10.1177/20542704241274292. journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/20542704241274292

[vmedulife]

National Assessment and Accreditation Council (NAAC) Software is an autonomous agency that has been grading Indian colleges since 1994. It is a self-governing body supported by the University Grants Commission of India, which is based in Bangalore. The NAAC assigns grades to colleges based on the quality of their educational programs and facilities.

visit us: vmedulife.com

[i-am-cholera]

Hello, everyone! This spring will be busy for me (mostly because of uni stuff) so I will not be so active here for a while. BUT I still made one thing and it's game mockup about Tia and Luna (here called Elea & Agnieszka)!

So story is about two sisters from Europe - one prosecutor (graduated) and the second is forensic science student. They both travel to USA for internships but instead of doing practice in human world they isekai find themselves in the pony world (pre-alicorn era).

Not to waste a time, girls decide to apply their knowledge about law and enforcement into practice since local tribes - pegasi, unicorns, earth ponies - don't get along at all.

The game is a visual novel but has a lot of interaction elements like shooting from a gun, taking photos, collecting and examining evidence, debating (like in ace attorney), using smth similar of real softwares that forensic scientists use bc i don't want to be sued haha but TruView Cloud is real and I used it only as visual example.

I had this idea for a pretty long time and finally I managed to properly visualize it. I had a lot of fun headcanoning (and still have) so maybe in the future I will make a couple of more arts relating to this story and those girlies.

And for now - bye!

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/ Comfort

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AO3 Link

Summary: In the aftermath of Detroit's android revolution, Nines grapples with the complexities of his newfound deviancy. As he seeks to establish his place in a newly transformed society, his resolve is put to the ultimate test when he is paired with Detective Gavin Reed-a notoriously volatile human with a well-established hatred for androids-to investigate a series of murders.

While initial impressions of his partner seem to suggest his reputation is well-deserved, the more time Nines spends with him, the more he is forced to challenge his judgments. As they form an unexpected bond, the RK900 is also pushed to examine truths about himself he would much rather seek to forget. (A Retelling of 'More Than Our Parts' from the POV of Nines.)

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 6.9K

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @ladyj-pl @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel

♡If you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know♡

The passive assault of his presence was less egregious than the previous day, with the smell of cigarettes less pungent, overwhelmed by a cheap aftershave. It didn't make the journey pleasant, but it was tolerable nevertheless. Easier for him to filter traces of the man from his olfactory channels, keeping them clear for the most part. 

It was approximately two minutes following their departure that Reed decided to speak, and his tolerability promptly expired. 

"Connor called you Nines."

The detective wasn't looking directly at him, staring forlornly out the window with arms folded across his chest, like a child who had just been denied a visit to their favourite fast food chain. Despite his current avoidance, he still managed to find a way to glare at him through the reflection of the glass. 

The android considered ignoring it—disregarding the grumblings as though he'd failed to hear them—but he knew this would only open the gates to further confrontation. While his partner was far from an expert in android physiology, he knew well enough that Nines was capable of advanced environmental awareness. It would make for a flimsy justification, one that could not be maintained for long. 

"...Excuse me?" The words resembled a sigh as they weakly passed his lips.

"I asked if you had a name, and you lied to my face." Reed was now turned to him, having pulled his cheek from the glass. "Why would you do that?"

The oil of his skin and the fog of his breath had left an unsightly mark. Fitting, given the persistent stain the man was proving to be in his life.

Nines made an effort to keep his demeanour suitability impersonal, not wishing to encourage the dialogue. Taking a moment to compose his response, he mulled over the best method to shut things down as quickly as possible. 

Evidently, the delay proved too much for Reed. He started to lean in, chin jutting belligerently, closing what limited gap existed between them. Nines found it fascinating how, despite all the open repulsion the man expressed towards him, he proved exceptionally willing to invade his personal space. 

His partner had all but crawled into his lap as he asserted one of his fingers into his vision. The digit hovered dangerously close to his LED, threatening to tap it. " Hello ? You doing a software update or what?"

The RK900 tilted back as far as his current position allowed. Reed did not seem like the type who could be reliably trusted to wash his hands, and he did not wish for his hardware to become contaminated.

"It was not a name I chose for myself. It was assigned to me by Lieutenant Anderson, and RK800 has since adopted it. A nickname of sorts."

"How adorable." The detective's lips curled unpleasantly, revealing that any purported charm was entirely fictional, "and I don't get to know about your cute little pet name because...?"

"From my understanding, terms of endearment tend to be reserved for use amongst friends. While I hope we can find a way to work together amicably, I cannot anticipate ever feeling fondness towards you."

"So I'm not good enough to be your friend? That's a real shame."

Desperate for some means of distraction, Nines deactivated the vehicle's autopilot, taking hold of the wheel. He found solace in the act of driving: A task that required no complex personal engagement, just the methodic execution of his programme.

There was little point in making an effort with Reed. RK800's lessons in diplomacy could not be applied, as it seemed to matter little what approach he adopted—be it amenable or obstinate.

"I meant what I said yesterday about our partnership. Just because I can conduct myself with professionalism, a skill you seem to be woefully lacking in, it does not detract from the complete disdain I feel towards you."

The detective pulled back sharply, permitting access to the gear shift he had been draping himself over. His heart pounded in zealous thumps, rumbling through the RK900's skull. 

" Screw you ." The words were snapped as a coarse hiss, the increase in blood flow igniting a fire across his cheeks. "I don't give two shits if you want to keep your nickname between you and your gal-pals. From now on, I'm calling you Nines."

The RK900 did not respond, maintaining his focus on the road ahead. It was clear Reed was lashing out in any way he could—at least, to whatever degree could be considered 'safe.'

He experienced a slight twinge of pride, knowing the man's fall from inflated assurance had been his doing. Evidently, the tumble had left him distraught, an emotional low he lacked the skill to pull himself up from. 

While the constant yaps of protest were irritating, their impact was becoming more benign. All it had really required was a subtle tune of his inputs. 'PROTOCOL: REED' as he had labelled it in his database.

The newly developed system was not infallible, but it was helping. Nines was confident it would continue to increase in effectiveness—provided the stimuli remained predictable and no additional obstructions emerged.

Reed had relegated himself back to his post of sullen lookout, observing the passing buildings and cars as they whistled past. It was the closest to a willing forfeit he seemed capable of, which Nines received with cautious optimism.

The more the RK900 was permitted to function effectively, the quicker their affiliation could be dissolved. Allowing them to move on with their respective lives, the period spent as 'partners' an unfortunate footnote in their careers. 

> Perhaps he can prove willing to learn.

> To adapt to the unfortunate circumstances of our partnership rather than let hatred rule him. 

The vehicle was quiet for the remaining journey until they turned into the street of their destination. Passing a lacklustre procession of beaten-up stores, the automatic braking system activated, signalling they were close to the crime scene. 

Reed only spoke again as the DPD barricades came into view, cornering a particularly derelict alley, as well as a number of officers:

"Well, look who it is..." The vehicle came to a stop along the perimeter, and the man wasted no time in making his escape.

The rattling of the door handle was sharp and hurried, like an animal trying to warp the bars of its enclosure. Nines half expected him to drop to his knees and break into a bestial sprint, charging down the sidewalk.

"I'll go and see what's happening. You stay in the car, and I'll call you, okay?" 

His suggestion conflicted with the android's primary directive and was promptly disregarded. Studying the congestion on the road, Nines determined the safest approach would be to exit via the same route. He calmly slid his way over, moving to place his hand on the seal of the passage—

Then the door was slammed in his face.

> Perhaps not. 

The world was momentarily forgotten as Nines' self-preservation protocol activated. He deftly retracted his hand, sparing it the force of the impact. His head could not be manoeuvred with the same efficiency as the momentum rattled the car, sending a ripple through the seats. The android fell back against them, clutching the side of his grazed cranial chassis. 

After ensuring no internal damage had been sustained, he dismissed the warnings flashing in his ocular field. With cognitive functions reconfigured and preservation mode disengaged, the android was permitted freedom to make a more reasoned assessment of what had just occurred.

Very little was done with this permission. 

Rational thought fell to the wayside in favour of a rising temper. Clearly, what minuscule credit he had lent Reed still proved entirely too generous.  

Another notification entered his HUD, and he made a frustrated attempt to dismiss it—until releasing it had nothing to do with his rocketing internal temperature. It instead informed of an unread message on his communication network:

RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 >> RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

> I really am sorry about earlier. I wasn't thinking. 

> Let me know when you arrive at the crime scene.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> RK800 #313 248 317 - 51

> We have just arrived.

> Detective Reed has slammed the door of the patrol vehicle in my face.

RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 >> RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

> Oh. Right. 

> RK800 is processing…

> Are you okay?  

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> RK800 #313 248 317 - 51

> My diagnostics suggest that no lasting damage has been sustained.

> So yes. Physically, I am fine.

RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 >> RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

> You don't know if he did it on purpose. 

> It could have been an accident. 

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> RK800 #313 248 317 - 51

> It wasn’t.

A petty side of him wished to stay in the car, allowing his partner to bumble aimlessly through the ongoing proceedings. He was certain the toxic mixture of apathy and overconfidence would lead to a plethora of missed evidence—the ensuing reprimand being something he’d gladly witness.

Unfortunately, Reed was not the only one who would suffer in this imagined scenario.

Poor-quality police work would only make his own duties harder, demanding he spend more time with his partner as he attempted to cobble together his woefully ramshackle accounts.

RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 >> RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

> Where is Gavin now? Is he still with you?

Nines looked through the window, studying his partner as he chatted with one of the attending officers. Given his broad smile and relaxed slouch, he had either developed a more sadistic delight for the brutalisation of androids—or their conversation had little to do with work.

Honing into the frequency of the exchange, the RK900 anticipated confirmation of the latter:

 "—What about you and that Jack guy? I thought you two were getting serious."

"We were. Until he decided to trade me in for a younger model."

"Ahh, I see. Sorry to hear that—”

Having heard more than enough, he blocked the channel. As expected, the exchange consisted of little more than superfluous gossip, with the current area of focus being his partner's more amorous endeavours. 

While he had never met this ‘Jack’ individual, the RK900 could only applaud their shrewd decision-making. It was a miracle Detective Reed had been able to secure any form of romantic companion, let alone one who had endured long enough to be considered ‘serious.’ 

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> RK800 #313 248 317 - 51

> He is having a discussion with Officer Miller.

> About the recent dissolving of his domestic partnership. 

RK800 glossed over the subject, his aversion to discussing Detective Reed's love life as understandable as it was blatant. Instead, he focused his attention on the previous message:

RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 >> RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

> Chris? I didn't realise he was back at work. 

> Hank showed me some pictures he sent the other day. Damien was eating spaghetti and got it all over his face. It was very cute. :)

Nines could only assume ‘Damien’ was Officer Miller’s child. He did not care to verify. 

RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 >> RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

> Here, I can send it to you.

>> IMAGE TRANSFER DENIED <<

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> RK800 #313 248 317 - 51

> I would rather you didn't.  

RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 >> RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

> Oh, okay…that's fine. 

> I understand you're busy. Another time.

> Tell him Connor sends his best wishes!

Nines had no intention of honouring the request. 

He was still far too heated, entirely too upset with his partner to focus on anything else. All he could think about now was putting an end to his most recent display of professional negligence.

With a clipped tut, he reached forward to claim the door handle, gripping it tightly. The harsh bang following his exit was enough to startle a nearby patrol officer. She jumped back from the noise, openly squealing. It had also summoned the attention of several other attendees, including Reed and Miller:

Their expressions fell in tandem as the android charged towards them, albeit settling into decidedly different outcomes. Reed's was a level of sullen contempt that almost appeared long-suffering despite their only two-day affiliation. 

“Apologies for intruding on such a touching reunion,” the android began, levelling the men, but most aptly his partner, with an accusatory glare. “I would appreciate it if you could refrain from idle chit-chat, Detective Reed. We have a job to complete.”

Despite not being the target of his admonishment,  Miller was decidedly more affected. His head perked up, eyes blown like a startled animal. One who had been scoped by a familiar, deadly predator.

Based on the man's prior experiences, Nines supposed this assessment could be considered accurate. 

It had been three days into training when he enquired about the empty desk at the end of the precinct—and RK800 informed him accordingly. Officer Miller had been placed on compassionate leave, the consequence of a traumatic incident that occurred a few weeks prior. 

The incident in question involved a run-in with a group of Jericho revolutionaries, as well as their leader. A stoic RK200 by the resignation ‘Markus.’

Once Miller's initial shock had waned, he proceeded in a flustered attempt to compose himself. After rubbing his clammy hands across the front of his uniform, he held one out in offering to the android.

"Hey, I, uh, I don't think we've met.” A smile was spread across his lips, so strained it looked as though it had been fastened by safety pins. 

Beyond the feigned affability, Nines observed how his body shook in lingering tremours, curling into itself. His clunky work boots sidled back in miniscule steps as though he was subtly attempting to retreat. 

"Officer RK900, Serial Number 313 248 317 - 87.” He did not oblige the handshake, seeing no point in physical contact that wasn't desired. "You appear to be nervous, Officer Miller, so I'll keep this brief. There is no need for drawn-out introductions.”

Miller's already deflated posture slumped even further as his arm fell limply to his side. Nines couldn't help but wonder if confirmation of his model number had contributed to the man's unease and whether he was aware of this bias.

RK800 would likely have disputed this if he were present. By all accounts, Miller had forgiven their predecessor for what occurred between them, as had seemingly everyone else. The common consensus was that RK200 had shown mercy. 

Nines remained unconvinced, struggling to trust in noble intent given the performative nature of the revolutionary's actions. 

It made for a powerful image, after all. A symbol for change, with a gun poised towards an agent of the establishments that sought to oppress them. Had he simply wished to ‘spare’ the human, there would have been no need for this performance. Holding the barrel to his head, pausing for solemn consideration before ultimately deciding to lower it. 

His calculations proved accurate, as reports of the incident would sway the minds of many detractors. Generating support and sympathy that otherwise would have never existed.

Perhaps in another reality, where RK200 determined violence would send a stronger message, Miller had not been so fortunate. Reduced to a bloodied husk, his mind splattered across the tarmac…

“Please try to understand 

with consideration 

for 6o*4m0d£7, we had to 5̷̢̛̣̜̹̤͉̹̻̥̬͗́͊͐̆̍͆̚͝@̶̫͇̣̘͔̯͈̙̤͎͒̑̀̿͑̓͠ķ̵̡̛̗͍̳͉̞̮̺͖̰͍̤͂̅͂́͐̌͘ͅͅ#̶̢̛̼̩̘͍͍̝̭̝͂̇̏̂́́́̄̐͌̒͐̚c̵͚̪̯̻̜̣̳̫͒̀̀̄̍#̸̨̧̫̥͈̬̣̘̲̝͓̰̝͈̀͋̐́́̏̇̆̾̈́̉̇͘͝ŕ̵̢̧͇̯͖̤͉̣̩̝͕̈͜+̴̡̢̧̳͔̰̯̼͛̈̀̄̿̐̉͘͝͝@̶̛̬̖̯͙͍̤̘̙̗̼̤̻͎̪̲̇̓̆͑̀̐̆̇́̈́͑͆͘͝!̷̗̼̱̤̟̫͙͈̰̦͕͍̖̖̎̽̉̃̂͐͑̑̄̈͐́͘̚n̴͍̍̀̃̀̍͊̊̏̐͛̀͋̈́͝͝͝͝ͅ0̷̛͈̪͇̺̞̠̳̦̝̗͇̳͇̀̈́̋̉͝͠͠r̸̨̢̡̯̗̙̰͓͉͖̬͉͖͗͌̈́̏̎#̶̛̛̪̘͇̫̗͎̣̂̅͐̀̉́͛͆̀́̆̓͠͠ć̸̡̣͍̠̦̩̥̣̣ͅ@̷̛̛͔̯̓̃̑͐̈́̽̽ù̶͖͈̦̲͕͔̻̹̥͔̊̉̂̎͑͗͝+̷̨̟͓̐̉́̀̈̀!̵̡̩͓̲͍̯̰͌̉͋̈̌̒̊͋̐̾͐̌̈́̚͜͝0̵̧̪͍̯̝̟͚̹̖͍̹̙͍̫͖̯̈́́̒͌̿͌̿̅̇̔̉͠ū̷̖̳̩$̴̼̝̺̥͚͓̥͚̩͈͖̤̲̈͠—”

> MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED — CRITICAL SOFTWARE MALFUNCTION.

> RECALIBRATING DRIVERS…

Nines was forced to grapple with a wave of mangled cognition as his systems sought to return to a more functional state. The electrical pulses charging his brain proved deeply unpleasant, pushing his head into a sidelong tilt. His discomfort was helped little by Reed, who decided now would be the optimal time to fire off a groaned complaint. 

“Could you not have stayed in the car? For five fucking minutes?” 

The pulses amplified, radiating his neck, as his focus snapped to the man. His demand seemed rooted in some lingering sense of dominance, the idea that compliance should be expected. 

It was a notion that proved woefully outdated and one the android was keen to correct.

“You have no authority over me, Detective,” Nines seethed, the title lingering bitterly on his tongue. “There was no reason to comply with your request.”

The partners found themselves in a stalemate, glaring at each other with mutual contempt, neither willing to budge. Miller had been placed in the middle, appearing intensely uncomfortable. He shuffled on the balls of his feet before making a fumbled attempt to cut through the tension. 

"Do you…” The officer paused, his focus darting to Reed as though making a muted plea for escape, “want me to show you to the victim?"  

The detective whipped around, moving at such a velocity that he almost generated his own wind current. 

You read my mind. Nines, feel free to do your—” He waved his hand in a loose circling gesture, as though searching for the correct words before quickly giving up, “—analysis thingy, or whatever you android detectives like to call it."

The man was gone before Nines could object, pressing his hand to Miller's back and firmly ushering him into the alley. His urgency seemed to suggest that the victim might wander off were they not located immediately.

> Fine. 

Secure in his knowledge that a deceased android did not pose an imminent flight risk, Nines determined the next logical step would be to complete a preliminary survey. Reasonably, someone had to, with the lead investigator having just made it clear he had no intention of doing so. It was yet another example of negligence, one he would make sure to include in his end-of-day report.

For now, he resigned himself to relying on existing records provided by first responders. The beginning of these was a witness statement from one of the victim's friends, a woman named Valerie Banks. They had planned to meet at a local coffee shop, but when the android failed to show up—unreachable by telecommunications—Valerie grew concerned.

The café was in a densely packed commercial area, about two blocks from the crime scene. While it could be reached by populated sidewalks, taking a shortcut through the alleyway reduced the overall journey time by approximately six minutes. The victim was well aware of this, using the route frequently. 

It was because of this routine that the body was discovered so promptly. Fortunate for the authorities, but less so for the witness, who had been deeply traumatised by what she'd seen. 

Bending down to street level, he studied the crumbled asphalt leading into the alley. The foundation had given way to a network of cracks, exposing the soil beneath. Running his fingers along the edge, there were limited signs of recent displacement, save those caused by the action. 

Indeed, there was nothing to indicate any recent traffic until he moved further along the line and discovered a faded scuff. Dirt had been dragged from the central path, leading away from it. The print matched the patterned sole of a StrideTech ‘Velocity 2036’ sneaker: Women's Size 6.

The first stages of reconstruction began to commence. A wireframe effigy of the victim took shape at the edge of the sidewalk. It then idled in place, calmly awaiting further instruction. 

> MJ100 ENTERED HERE. 

He took a soil sample, rolling it between his fingers before placing it on his tongue. Using the garnered analytics, he scanned for other traces. They led him th

[verifying-gimmick-posts]

i recommend checking out @colortracker because it would be funny to see you fight him over colors in his posts

Gimmick Post Verification Status: UNIQUE (see below)

The gimmick blog @colortracker is a human-run blog that examines post contents, most often images but also other forms of visual content such as gifs and videos, and attempts to roughly quantify how many colors are present. According to the blog's pinned post, only the colors red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, and gray are counted. Each post receives a score out of 8, the score representing how many of the aforementioned colors are present in the content.

From observations, this blog seemingly builds controversy, intentionally or otherwise, due to the issue of color identification bias. This is a problem that effects several fields of research, study, software development, and even fashion design and marketing. Generally speaking, "objective" color identifications are bad. Human vision and perception is an extremely complicated topic, and humans don't visually process 100% of the information they are seeing, including color. Color is mostly an approximation, your brain kinda "guesses" what color is the "most" apparent or applicable in any instance. The first half of this video ("What Color Is My Hoodie?") by Tom Scott is a good launching point for understanding color perception.

The reason I am giving all of this context and information is to demonstrate that color is, objectively, subjective. "Objective" colors are less useful in practical fields than the general consensus (source is the same as in the first sourced statement). I cannot use a precise color code identifier to dispute this gimmick blog, because color is an example of qualia. I could easily squash and stretch any image, pick out individual pixels and especially use generation loss and compression (a whole other topic that also relates to this blog) to show "definitive" proof that, on my monitor, the "True Blue" theme of Tumblr contains bright red. Alternatively, I could link to an article from when "The Dress" was a meme.

Controversy relating to this blog's determinations & objective/subjective colors are also influenced by Alexis Spectral Data and the digital imaging concept of color management.

On a less subjective note, this particular post contains a formatting error, where two additional colors, likely yellow and purple, are counted in the score but not listed in the post content.

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