#Project expense monitoring

[asestimationsconsultants]

Cost Estimating Service vs. Cost Budgeting Service | Key Differences Explained.

Introduction

In project management and financial planning, two critical concepts—cost estimating service and cost budgeting service—are often used interchangeably. However, they serve distinct purposes in ensuring a project's financial success. Cost estimating involves predicting the total costs required for a project, while cost budgeting focuses on allocating and managing those estimated costs throughout the project lifecycle. Understanding the differences between these two processes is essential for effective financial planning and risk management. This article explores their definitions, key differences, and their role in successful project execution.

What Is Cost Estimating?

Cost estimating is the process of predicting the total expenditure for a project before work begins. It involves analyzing various factors, including labor, materials, equipment, and indirect costs. The primary objective of cost estimating is to develop a realistic projection of expenses, which helps in decision-making and project feasibility assessment.

Key Aspects of Cost Estimating:

Data-Driven Analysis: Uses historical data, market research, and expert judgment to determine cost predictions.

Multiple Estimation Methods: Includes techniques such as parametric, bottom-up, and three-point estimating.

Accuracy Levels: Ranges from rough order of magnitude (ROM) estimates in early planning to detailed estimates in later project phases.

Risk Identification: Identifies potential cost risks and integrates contingency plans to address uncertainties.

Cost estimating is a critical step in determining whether a project is financially viable and helps stakeholders make informed investment decisions.

What Is Cost Budgeting?

Cost budgeting, on the other hand, involves allocating the estimated costs across different project phases and monitoring spending to ensure financial control. It transforms the cost estimate into a structured financial plan, ensuring that funds are available when needed.

Key Aspects of Cost Budgeting:

Fund Allocation: Distributes the estimated costs into project phases, tasks, and departments.

Cash Flow Management: Ensures adequate funds are available at each stage of the project.

Cost Baseline Development: Establishes a benchmark for measuring actual spending against planned costs.

Ongoing Monitoring and Adjustments: Tracks project expenses and makes necessary adjustments to prevent cost overruns.

Cost budgeting ensures that financial resources are efficiently utilized and that the project remains financially sustainable.

Key Differences Between Cost Estimating and Cost Budgeting

AspectCost EstimatingCost BudgetingDefinitionPredicts the total expected cost of a projectAllocates estimated costs across the project timelinePurposeDetermines financial feasibilityEnsures cost control and resource managementTimingConducted before project approvalImplemented after estimates are finalizedScopeCovers labor, materials, equipment, and contingenciesFocuses on fund distribution and expenditure trackingOutcomeProvides an estimated project costDevelops a financial plan for project execution

How Cost Estimating and Cost Budgeting Work Together

Cost estimating and cost budgeting are interconnected processes that contribute to successful project execution. The cost estimate serves as the foundation for creating a realistic budget. Once the budget is set, it guides financial decisions and resource allocations throughout the project.

Here’s how they complement each other:

Estimating Costs First: Project managers determine the projected costs using estimation techniques.

Creating a Budget: The estimated costs are structured into a financial plan with designated allocations.

Tracking Expenses: Budgeting ensures that actual expenses align with estimated projections.

Adjusting as Needed: Cost control measures help address deviations and optimize spending.

By integrating both processes, organizations can improve financial accuracy, reduce risks, and ensure project success.

Importance of Understanding the Difference

Misinterpreting cost estimating as cost budgeting can lead to financial mismanagement and project inefficiencies. Recognizing their differences helps in:

Preventing Budget Shortfalls: Ensures sufficient funds are available for each phase of the project.

Enhancing Decision-Making: Helps stakeholders make informed financial and resource allocation decisions.

Minimizing Risks: Identifies potential cost overruns and incorporates contingency plans.

Improving Project Efficiency: Enables better planning, execution, and financial control.

Conclusion

While cost estimating and cost budgeting are closely related, they serve distinct roles in financial planning. Cost estimating focuses on forecasting total project expenses, whereas cost budgeting ensures those costs are effectively distributed and managed. Understanding and applying both processes correctly is crucial for successful project execution, financial stability, and risk mitigation. Organizations that master these concepts can optimize their financial strategies and achieve project success with greater confidence.

As industries continue to evolve, leveraging cost estimation and budgeting best practices will remain essential for maintaining financial discipline and operational efficiency.

[reasonsforhope]

"In Sacramento, California, an estimated 6,615 people are experiencing homelessness, a number that — while still heartbreakingly high — has declined 29% since 2023, according to the latest Point In Time counts. 

But a new project, which has been in the works since 2022, might bring that number down even lower.

A new 13-acre property purchased by Sacramento County will soon be home to the Watt Service Center and Safe Stay. 

The county broke ground on the mixed-use service center this week, which will provide shelter, emergency respite, safe parking, health services, and more to community members who are unsheltered — meaning they don’t have a place to safely sleep at night.

“We wanted to do something that is not only larger, but a large-scale campus to provide more than just the shelter,” Janna Haynes, of the county’s Department of Homeless Services and Housing, told KCRA3 News.

The Watt Service Center will have amenities to help meet the needs of anyone staying there, including bathrooms, showers, laundry, and food, as well as mental health, treatment, and employment services.

“You can also meet with your case manager, get behavior health services, look for a job, get rehousing services, a place for your dog,” Jaynes added. “It’s really everything you need, not only for your day-to-day life, but to hopefully end your homelessness.”

While the center is a costly offering, the city explained that it is ultimately less expensive than allowing the homelessness crisis to go unmitigated.

The land was purchased for $22 million and will cost an estimated $42 million to construct the center. According to ABC10 News it will be mostly funded by the American Rescue Plan Act.

While the center will have the capacity to host 225 beds in Safe Stay cabins, 50-person capacity in Safe Parking, and 75-person capacity for emergency/weather respite beds, it will serve countless others outside of the 350 total people it can house at any given time.

According to a press release from the county, “conservative estimates” have found that over the course of 15 years, the center will serve 18,000 people.

In 2017, the city found that the average cost for an “unsheltered individual” was about $45,000 a year, considering public systems like county jail, shelters, behavioral health, and more.

With the projected impact of the shelter, that cost lowers to less than $3,600 per person.

“If you break down the funding, it’s actually not that expensive,” Rich Desmond, county supervisor for District 3, told ABC10.

“It’s a heck of a lot cheaper than letting someone stay out in the community, unsheltered where they are extremely expensive in terms of the emergency response from fire, our emergency rooms, our law enforcement response.”

Providing what the county calls “wraparound services” not only brings down costs but truly helps people meet their basic needs.

“The really great thing about this site in particular, that we don't have at any other shelters, is the sheer size and the ability to really wrap everything people need,” Emily Halcon, director of the Department of Homeless Services and Housing with Sacramento County, told ABC10. 

One notable feature is the center’s Safe Parking spaces, which are the first of their kind in the city. People living in their cars will now have a safe place to park, monitored by security.

“We know a lot of people who are unsheltered actually are living out of their cars,” Desmond said, “maybe a family that’s barely hanging on but they still need that vital transportation to get their kids to school or get to work.”

This support is especially helpful for those who are newly homeless, Halcon added, building on the amenities provided in the county’s two other “safe stay” facilities. 

While Sacramento County just broke ground on the Watt Service Center, officials say they hope to begin moving people into the facility in January 2026.

“Our staff is putting in extra time and attention to this campus, ensuring that it houses everything we need to end homelessness for people,” Desmond said in a statement.

Once it’s up and running, Jaynes told KCRA3, they plan to onboard formerly unhoused community members as part of the staff at the facility.

“When you have a conversation with someone who understands where you’ve been, and you see the success they’re having now,” Jaynes said, “it really does give you hope something could be different.”

-via GoodGoodGood, January 24, 2025

[whats-in-a-sentence]

He said the group's long-term financing would depend on its achieving performance forecasts:

We need time to review the needs of the Northern Star, to agree on the required financing and to obtain approval from our respective internal authorities, including, in the case of Westpac, the approval of the board. In the longer term . . . banks could be expected to maintain support if management's performance were in accordance with projections. That presumes full exchange of information, constant monitoring of revenue and expenses, and continued confidence in management.

"Westpac: The Bank That Broke the Bank" - Edna Carew

[trackolap]

Boosting Efficiency and Productivity: How to Choose the Best Employee Monitoring Software

Introduction:

The Rise of Employee Monitoring Software:

As remote work becomes more prevalent, the need for tools that facilitate efficient collaboration and ensure productivity has grown. Employee monitoring software has emerged as a solution to address these challenges. By tracking work activities, these tools offer insights into how employees spend their time, identify bottlenecks, and help in optimizing workflows. While some may argue that employee monitoring infringes on privacy, when implemented correctly, it can foster a culture of accountability and transparency, benefiting both employees and employers.

Benefits of Employee Monitoring Software:

Time Tracking:

Employee monitoring software provides accurate insights into how employees spend their work hours. This feature allows organizations to identify time-wasting activities and optimize workflows to enhance overall productivity.

Task Management:

Efficient task management software is critical for achieving organizational goals. Employee monitoring software often includes task tracking and management features, helping teams stay organized and focused on their objectives.

Performance Evaluation:

Monitoring software allows employers to assess individual and team performance based on objective data. This facilitates fair and transparent performance evaluations, leading to improved employee accountability and motivation.

Remote Work Support:

With the rise of remote work monitoring software enables employers to track employee activities irrespective of their physical location. This ensures that remote teams remain productive and connected.

Security and Compliance:

Many monitoring tools come equipped with security features to protect sensitive company data. Additionally, they assist in ensuring that employees comply with company policies and industry regulations.

Key Features to Consider:

User-Friendly Interface:

Opt for software with an intuitive and user-friendly interface. This ensures that employees can easily navigate the platform without feeling overwhelmed, fostering better adoption and compliance.

Customization Options:

Every organization has unique needs. Look for monitoring software that allows customization to tailor the monitoring parameters to align with your company’s specific requirements.

Real-Time Monitoring:

The ability to monitor activities in real-time is crucial for identifying and addressing issues promptly. Real-time monitoring ensures that productivity bottlenecks are detected and resolved in a timely manner.

Data Security and Privacy Compliance:

Prioritize software that places a strong emphasis on data security and complies with privacy regulations. This is especially important as organizations handle sensitive employee information.

Integration Capabilities:

Choose monitoring software that integrates seamlessly with your existing tools and software stack. This ensures a smooth transition and enhances overall efficiency.

Reporting and Analytics:

Comprehensive reporting and analytics features provide valuable insights into employee performance and overall productivity. This data-driven approach allows organizations to make informed decisions for continuous improvement.

Scalability:

Select a monitoring solution that can scale with your organization’s growth. This ensures that the software remains effective and relevant as your company expands.

Choosing the Best Employee Monitoring Software:

Define Your Objectives:

Clearly outline your organization’s goals and objectives for implementing employee monitoring software. Whether it’s optimizing workflows, enhancing collaboration, or ensuring compliance, having a clear set of objectives will guide your software selection.

Consider Employee Input:

Involve employees in the decision-making process. Address any concerns they may have about privacy and clearly communicate the benefits of the monitoring software. A transparent approach fosters trust and acceptance.

Trial Periods and Demos:

Before committing to any software, take advantage of trial periods and demos. This allows you to assess the software’s functionality, user-friendliness, and compatibility with your organization’s needs.

Check Reviews and References:

Research and read reviews from other organizations that have implemented the software. Additionally, seek references from the software provider to get insights into the experiences of their existing clients.

Understand Support and Training Options:

Ensure that the software provider offers adequate support and training options. A robust support system and training resources contribute to successful implementation and user adoption.

Budget Considerations:

While cost is an important factor, it’s equally crucial to consider the long-term benefits of the software. A slightly higher upfront investment may be justified if the software delivers significant improvements in efficiency and productivity.

Conclusion:

Choosing the best employee monitoring software requires a careful balance between optimizing productivity and respecting employee privacy. When implemented thoughtfully, TrackOlap can be a powerful tool for organizations to streamline workflows, enhance collaboration, and achieve their business objectives. By considering key features, involving employees in the decision-making process, and thoroughly evaluating software options, organizations can make informed choices that benefit both employers and employees alike. Remember, the goal is not just to monitor, but to create a workplace culture that values transparency, accountability, and overall productivity.

[ak319]

Yan Socialite brother x reader

(Warnings: Strictly platonic , not incest)

Ezra Alvarez , your younger brother, has always been your number one supporter. From a young age, he was taught that tradition dictated the older sibling would inherit the business and the farms—essentially, everything. This meant all the power would eventually be in your hands. But Ezra wasn’t a moneygrubber seeking favor, he genuinely admired your intelligence, strength, and the way you cared for the family, especially him. From the moment he gained consciousness, he aimed to be your best friend and sole confidant. He longed to be the person you turned to for counsel, and slowly but surely, things were unfolding just as he wanted.

Let's start from the beginning. Ezra and you were quite different in many ways, largely due to the contrasting upbringings you had. For example, while you cherished solitude and indulged in expensive hobbies like horseback riding, archery, and swordsmanship within the privacy of your estate, not to mention almost always busy learning and handling the business with your father. On the other hand, Ezra thrived in social settings. As a fashion designer, it was his job to attend lavish parties and stay connected with the latest trends. However, his socializing had a deeper purpose, to monitor the people in high circles and gauge their intentions toward his family, especially you.

Ezra was always vigilant, keeping tabs on potential rivals and meticulously recording this information. He made sure you were aware of everything you needed to know, and thanks to his discreet tactics, you were advancing. The way he giggled looking up at you when you patted his head in praise was endearing, if he were a puppy, his tail would surely have been wagging.

Ezra would do anything for his older sister because you're the best sister in the world! Despite being used to receiving expensive trinkets, he always gets teary-eyed when you gift him something special. Given your usually stoic and aloof demeanor, he can't help but cry tears of joy when you show him affection and smile at him. He ceaselessly rambles on about his latest projects and clothing line while you sit there, reading a book and nodding along, often clueless about what he’s saying. Yet, he still cherishes these moments because it’s only HIS sister who takes time out of her busy schedule for HIM. How could he not be grateful? That would be a crime. No other sister would ever do this for their brother! Anyway, back to designing some jockey apparels for you. You really need new ones.

As much as he dislikes your boisterous hobbies, he uses them as an excuse to spend time with you. He eagerly asks you to teach him, no matter how dirty his nails or clothes get, or how much he might risk getting sunburned. Every bit of it is worth it when someone like you is his mentor.

Your parents reprimended you for spoiling your baby brother but you always shrugged it off saying "How can I not spoil my only baby brother?." That's right sister, I am and will be always your only brother. He always makes sure to pass a victorious smirk to his parents who could only sigh in defeat at both of you.

Whenever it rains, he remembers how you love the rain while he hates it because it's all muddy but on the other hand memories of him as a kid getting scared of the thunder and you holding him in your bed in your protective embrace always warms his heart. Maybe this is where the habit of cuddling you has developed. Even now when something in his life goes wrong or he is having a tantrum , only your the one who can calm him or otherwise he is crying screaming and complaining for days and yes this is a true incident , the whole estate was close to becoming deaf if you hadn't come back from your academy bringing some new jewels and his favourite pastries for him.

Speaking of the academy, Ezra had to swallow the urge to throw another tantrum or cling to your feet when the time came for you to leave for further studies. He knew you had to do this for your own sake and the future of your family business. So, instead, he became like a second mother to you, sending letters to make sure you weren’t skipping classes—even though he knew you weren’t that kind of a person. He frequently asked about your meals and sports activities, but the part he hated most was even thinking about you having a potential lover. God, he couldn’t help but crumple up the third letter when he wrote about it, but he had to know. The thought of being secondary in your life, in everything, terrified him. What if you brought home a gold digger?! That’s how he saw anyone who came close to you. They didn’t care about your personality or charm, they were after that KA-CHING! And him being one of your top prized assets, he wasn’t about to let that happen.

His heart however calmed down when you replied with a simple 'No' about the question. Yay! Whenever you came back from academy , he was even more excited than your parents, who always found his enthusiasm adorable. How he ran back and forth scolding the servants for not cleaning your room properly , not having your favourite dish up to notch like DO YOUR FUCKING JOBS PROPERLY! He wouldn't stop yapping when you sat for tea after dinner but no matter how much you were exhausted from your journey , you still listened to him.

As cunning, witty, and sophisticated he was, Ezra made mistakes too, and in his mind, the worst mistake was failing at a task you assigned him. He would cower under your anger, fully aware that he had messed up. He was still learning the ins and outs of the tedious household budget—something he would have to manage for you one day—but it was boring, okay? Numbers just weren’t his thing. Even if you scolded him, he always waited for your apology, which you offered in your own way—like taking him out to his favorite café or silently sharing a cup of tea in his room. Moments later, he’d be hugging you, petulantly whining about you getting angry at him. He hated how you chuckled at his childish attitude, but deep down, he loved it too.

Life was going well until, one day he received a letter that you were unable to attend father's funeral due to work back in the academy. He knew it was a lie , you WOULD NEVER abandon your family like this , even your mother was skeptical. But since there was no sign of you coming back, he handled his grieving mother and the arrangements himself as much as he was dying inside due to your absence. Where were you? They needed you. You were their head now. He was worried sick.

After the guests left , it was only his uncles and aunts who sat in the living room while he came down after putting his mother to sleep.

"Ezra, dear boy. You must be tired, but there is something we need to discuss with you." The words made his blood boil, and he fought the urge to slap the indifferent looks off his father’s brothers and sisters. He knew exactly why they were still here—they were nothing but vile, disgusting pieces of filth, circling like vultures after the family’s money. He had always seen the malicious intent in their eyes when they interacted with you, and it broke his heart how you treated them as family while they plotted to push you out of the way. But he kept up the façade of a nice, obedient nephew, knowing that it would be handy for a moment like this. Where were they when he was struggling to handle everything? They only arrived at the last minute for their sibling's funeral. His poor father had died surrounded by snakes. But he swore he would never let the same happen to you. He would never betray you, his blood, like these filthy excuses for humans.

He wanted to throw up as they offered their insincere condolences, but he remained firm. They inquired about your absence, talking shit about your cold behavior for not being there, and this was his cue to play his cards right. Slipping into his favorite role as the bimbo younger brother, he wept, agreeing with their criticisms, and even cursed you, despite how much it made his heart ache. Eventually, they began to open up, believing in the hate and jealousy he pretended to harbor for you. While they didn’t reveal your whereabouts, they made it clear they deemed you as an unworthy heiress. He fake-laughed through his tears, gaining their trust the best that he could. They even had the audacity to suggest dividing the property among themselves, without even considering his mother as the rightful owner of anything. Oh, they were going to be obliterated.

He then promised to hand them the papers during a party he was going to arrange that too in a ferry. Acting on the information you once gave him, he contacted some gunmen for emergencies, making the necessary arrangements. Oh what a sight it was to see the ferry filled with the corpses of his treacherous relatives. One of the assassin came and informed that they had you abducted and thrown into a mental asylum on your way back to the estate for the funeral. His mouth hung agape at the revelation, his whole body seething with fury, and without wasting a moment, he set out to bring you back. But not before ordering the ferry to be blown up in the middle of the sea. He cackled maniacally from the dock as he watched the explosion, then leaped onto the back of one of the hitmen like a kid, gleeful at the destruction of those who had wronged you.

Once you were back and grieved a bit which only lasted for a few moments before you had to take care of covering up the bloodshed your baby brother did. But at the end you did it and currently Ezra was beside you on the arm of the chair while you worked on your late father's study table , now yours. "You are not mad at me, are you?" He asked softly, voice almost breaking at the end.

"You did what had to be done. I would have done the same to anyone who came after my family like this," you said, hearing him sniffle beside you. You gently caressed his arm, your gaze still fixed on the parchment. "Don’t cry, you know how much I hate seeing you cry, Ezzy." You felt him lay his head on your shoulder, his soft brunette locks brushing against your ear.

"Thank you… I couldn’t fucking stand them anymore, doing such… such a horrendous thing to you."

He suddenly burst into giggles, his feet dangling. "But it was fun! You know, before his death, Uncle Auden wore that hideous yellow sack coat. I saw it through the binoculars—God, he looked like a penguin getting on the ferr-!"

"Ezra." Your warning tone almost made him flinch. "What did I tell you about speaking ill of the dead?"

"I think they deserve a pass." His pout was defiant yet playful, and you couldn’t help but smile. His laughter was light, a contrast to the heaviness of this week.

He couldn't be more blissful than this. You looked as if you were made to sit in that chair, and he felt immensely proud to have cleared the path for you. He always would. As his heart pondered the future, a frown creased his brow. The thought of a day when you might stray, bringing a partner into the estate, unsettled him. Though that day seemed far off, he was already prepared to make their life hell. After all, the chances of you siding with a partner over him were slim. He has got his older sister wrapped around his manicured pinky.

➺Ezra x reader x hubby

[deadsetobsessions]

Snart Jr.

Lovely prompt by @stealingyourbones in her long prompts list, in which Danny Phantom meets the Rogues of Central City! This will have multiple parts, I just haven't written them yet.

Disclaimer: I know very little about Captain Cold and Mirror Master despite having watched some of the Flash. The general vibe I get from Flash is that Flash just really cares about his rogues as evidenced by how he talks to them and doesn't immediately one-shot them like I'm pretty sure he could do. And that Captain Cold is a snarky asshole that just wants to steal things and follow his plans as planned? Tbh, the whole mini-arc/episode with him just felt like Snart was trying to coordinate the world's riskiest group project. He was so done by the end lmao

"Huh. That's new."

Danny hovered an inch off of the ground, having just been spat out by swirling green portal. He was going to have to get back to the Zone later to hot potato Skulker through a couple of portals in revenge. He had a math exam he had to study for, dammit.

Danny sighed. Might as well see what's happening. The portals rarely lead somewhere boring, and Danny was bored. He floated further in, form going intangible and invisible as he passed through thick but insulated marble walls. See, Jazz? He could totally plan ahead. He's also learning that he could probably rob a bank easily, but Danny would never.

"Never been spat out in a bank before," he hummed, eyes flickering on the numerous forms of cowering people in the lobby. The goons scattered about don't see him, but it would take another ghost to even detect his presence so it was to be expected. He moved further in with little hindrance and soon touched down onto polished floor behind two incredibly suspicious individuals.

"What-cha do-ing?"

The two figures, currently and obviously robbing a bank, whirled around in surprise. Their respective weapons whirred to a start before they stopped, baffled by the meta teen standing there with his white hair waving about and innocent look pasted all over his face.

Leonard Snart knew instinctively that the kid was so full of shit. He'd bet his entire plan on the fact that the kid knew exactly what kind of shit he was stirring. Still, Snart was guilty of a lot of things but direct child-endangerment wasn't ever one of them.

"How'd you get in here, kid?" Mirror Master raised his laser pistol, ready to distract and divert the kid with threats of violence- which Snart glared at him for- or with his hall of mirrors that he'd run to.

Danny shrugged. "I walked. If you guys didn't want me here, you should have guarded the place better."

"They were supposed to," Snart drawled. He cased the kid. Teen. The kid had a weird halo effect, that seemed to draw the eyes to the stylized letter on his hazmat suit. The kid was young. Meta. Non-hostile. "You trying to stop us?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah. Came from the Ghost Zone so 's really non'a my business. I was just being nosy."

Snart gave a curt nod and nudged Mirror Master back into cracking the security measures.

Mirror Master scoffed. "What the hell is a ghost zone?"

"I mean, it's pretty self explanatory, right? It's a zone where ghosts live. Hence, you know, Ghost Zone." Danny did a little jazz hands (oh, yeah, he was definitely gonna get Jazz to make that joke sooner or later) for emphasis.

Snart paused for the slightest bit before continuing with his task. Did ghosts exist?

"...Did the Flash send you here, kid?"

"I'm not a kid," Danny scowled, walking right up to them. He got enough of that from his own Rogues, thank you. "And what's a Flash?"

"The Flash, kid." Mirror Master corrected, shoving monitors and PC's and expensive looking office chairs into... a mirror dimension? Danny shrugged and rolled with it.

"Who's that? Your boss?"

"Local superhero, not our boss. You're not from here," Snart quickly deduced as a small smile wormed onto his face from successfully cracking the security without setting off an alarm. They'd have ten minutes before the system cycles the access codes again and flags the fraudulent ones. That should be enough time.

"Superhero? Are they fast? Actually, where is here?" Danny glanced around at the now bare security office like the Flash would show up.

The guy in green and yellow took everything not nailed down to the ground. Danny respected that, even if he kind of wanted to stop the robbery. But he's not really supposed to interfere. That would be uber rude, since it looked like the guy in the fur jacket seemed like he had planned everything precisely.

"You're in Central City, kid. Did you take a wrong turn trying to get to Keystone or something?" Green-yellow guy snorted.

"Gonna be real honest with you, I've got no idea where that is. What state are we in?" Danny followed as the pair rushed to the safe doors. He could offer to phase them through but no matter how flexible Danny's morals have become over the years, he was going to draw a line at actively helping a person commit crime.

"Kansas. Do you teleport? Are you a teleporting meta?" Snart asked, eyes intense as he both glared at Danny and pressed an ear to the safe door.

"Nah, I wish I could teleport. Getting to school would be so much faster. Kansas? Huh, I've never been."

"How lost are you, kid?" Mirror Master incredulously paused from robbing the packages that were delivered to the bank.

Danny shrugged. "Oh, I'm Danny. Who are you guys?"

"Captain Cold. That's Mirror Master."

Danny shifted as the safe clicks open. "So, uh, are you guys the villains here?"

Captain Cold shot him a weird look. "We're actively robbing a bank, kid. That should be obvious."

"Also, you're acting real calm for a kid speaking to two of Fawcett's best super-villains." Mirror Master chimed in, laser-ing off locks on deposit boxes and shoving cash and stuff into his mirror dimension.

Danny padded in after them. "Eh, you haven't shot at me- not even on sight- yet, which is more than I can say for law enforcement, so you're pretty chill in my book."

Captain Cold snorted, pointedly taking his freeze gun and breaking off a large manual lock. "I believe it's my job to be the chill one. Plus, we don't kill. The Flash would be up our... business if we did. It's not worth the trouble."

"You can say ass. I've heard worse."

"Not from me, kid."

Danny hadn't had that kind of consideration from anyone in a long time. Even if it's a bit... mother-hennish, the halfa couldn't find it in him to be annoyed. "Ah, okay. Well, you also haven't kidnapped me or tried to stop me from following you, so..."

Mirror Master shoved a giant painting into his dimension. "You haven't tried to stop us; it'd be weird trying to stop you."

"Makes sense."

"Heh. You're alright, kid. Though... who's kidnapping you?"

"My fruit loop of a godfather. It's a thing," Danny avoided the searching gaze like a pro.

"Hold this." Captain Cold said suddenly, giving Danny a massive dufflebag.

"Wait, what?"

Captain Cold began stuffing the bag with cash and once the money in the vicinity (not that much) went in, he said "Go look around. Having another person in here is a risk so you might as well make up for it."

Danny's calling it. Captain Cold was full of shit. The guy's a big softie. Danny smiled sheepishly and agreed. Danny circled the place, pointing out expensive looking stuff- "for fun" and not because they were nice to him- when he felt the tell-tale zaps of an anomaly in Clockwork's domain.

"Move!" He shouted at the two villains, both of whom dove out of the way. Instinctively, Danny threw out his gloved hands and iced the floors, instincts bristling at the incoming danger. His jaw dropped as a blur encountered the ice and went ass over tea kettle onto the floor, unable to stop its own momentum.

"Oh shit!" Danny uttered, eyes wide as the blur slammed into the opposite- reinforced- wall with a pained shout. The stopped person was wearing red, with a lighting bolt motif all over their uniforms. That implied speed. Speed implied "The Flash." Danny knew a hero when he saw one and he just iced him. Shit.

"What-" The Flash groaned. Mirror Master and Captain Cold gaped.

"OhmyancientsI'msosorrygottagobye!" Danny shouted.

"Hey, wait, kid-!" Captain Cold shouted. Danny ignored him, going invisible in a panic and sank into the ground, mortified. After thirty seconds of self-hatred, he zoomed out and away. Danny held his head in his hands as he flew back to where Amity was...

Only to stare down at the empty plots of land where his city was supposed to be. Danny shoved a hand into his chest and pulled out his phone.

[No results for Amity Park. Did you mean "Amity Arkham"?]

"What."

Any research he did after that only turned up a Jasmine Fellona, a budding neurobiologist in her field, and other people that were adjacent to the people Danny knew. But nothing, nothing from Amity Park.

"Oh, yeah, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

---

As the Flash stood around to keep an eye on the hand-cuffed villains, he couldn't help but ask.

"So, uh, Snart. Did you... get a kid?"

"What." Snart asked, incredibly done with this shit.

"You know. Snart junior? With the ice and everything?" Flash gestured at the un-melting ice that covered the floor leading into the safe. "I mean, I'm not thrilled you're pulling your kid into a life of crime..."

"No."

"Wait, you had a kid and didn't tell me?" Mirror Master asked, mildly offended. "That was your kid? No wonder no one shot at him!"

"He's not my kid." Snart gave Flash the stink-eye. "And don't you have a couple of baby sidekicks running around?"

"C'mon dude, you're so obviously fond of him. It's okay, you don't have to hide it." Flash avoided the topic... in a flash.

"Can someone arrest me right now so these idiots can be removed from my vicinity?" Snart snarked to the approaching officer, jerking his head to point at the beaming Flash.

"You and me both, buddy," Officer West sighed.

---

One trip to the zone and a stressful conversation with Clockwork later, Danny was found in his keep, smacking his ghost head into the ghost wall of his ghost keep. Danny would unleash a Wail if it didn't have the nasty habit of bringing everything around him.

Apparently, he got "Amity'd," a process which meant Amity spat him out like an over chewed dog bone and refused to take him back.

"That doesn't even make sense! I left there a bunch of times! And came back!"

"The city has decided that it was your time to leave, Danny." Clockwork spared a wane smile for the curled up boy-king.

"I have people to protect there! My entire life! My haunt!" Danny yelled, breaths that he didn't technically need coming shorter and shorter. The neon green of the Zone whirled in and out of his vision in a dizzying shudder of anxiety and incoming panic.

"It wasn't your haunt, I'm afraid. The city nurtured you as a young spirit- thus shared her haunt- and has decided that it was time for you to... leave the nest, so to speak."

That stopped Danny's panic in its tracks. "Are you telling me she NightVale-d me? Some kind of involuntary coming-of-age bs?"

If he weren't on the edge of hysterical laughter, Danny would take a moment and proudly say to Mr. Lancer that he had paid attention in class.

"...Yes."

"Fuck." Danny dropped his head down in despair. His head made a loud thunk. The bag of cash he'd accidently made away with sat innocently at his feet. Further proof that it wasn't some nightmare he'd wake up from anytime soon.

---

Danny slumped over the desk, exhausted. Technus had lent him a ghostly hand and hacked into government data bases to re-establish his social security number and all the other dumb bits and bobs that he needed to establish his identity because Amity was an actual ghost town. Ghost to reality, ghost to real life. Ancients, Amity even had their own data network, which he couldn't access outside of Amity itself. This meant that Danny couldn't even call anyone. Ugh.

"I gotta find a place to live," he mumbled to himself. Danny, despite knowing that he needed to do things, did not move for another ten minutes.

Then, as his phone alarm went off, buzzing on the table. Like... Clockwork... Danny sat up straight and wiped all traces of wallowing self pity off his face. The people in the library- students- gave him solemn nods of solidarity. Danny nodded back and left the library.

He wandered around Fawcett City, somewhere Clockwork had recommended he stayed. With Clockwork, recommendations tended to be life-important (plot-important?) orders. Danny liked the place, really. It gave off the weird and settled "what-the-fuck,-Box-Ghost-did-you-have-to-destroy-the-mall?" vibes Amity constantly gave off after the ghosts started coming through. He thought he even saw a talking tiger! Awesome.

"Hey, are you new here?"

Danny looked down. His reflection stared back at him.

Did he have another kid? Did someone clone him again? Ancients curse you, Vlad!

"Uh- yeah."

"Oh. Do you need help getting around? I was born and raised here all my life, so I can totally do that!"

Oh thank the Ancients, this wasn't another Dani. Just a weirdly similar looking kid.

"You know I'm a stranger, right?"

"I don't think anyone helping Nanny Mae pick up her oranges would hurt kids," the kid said archly, but with a grin so like Dani, it made Danny miss his younger sister.

"Okay, you got me there. But still."

The kid sighed. "I know how to be safe, thanks. I'm Billy!"

"Danny. Nice to meet you."

"Okay, Danny, where you off to?"

"I'm actually trying to find a place that'll be cheap to rent." He's sixteen, but Danny could totally pass as eighteen. "I'm thinking about moving to Fawcett. It's nice here, with all the ambient magic and stuff."

This got him a wide-eyed look. "Do you use magic?"

"Something like that."

"Cool."

Danny took in the considering glint in Billy's eyes and decided that it was future!Danny's problem. Present!Danny was currently occupied with trying to stay off the streets. That giant bag of cash he'd accidently absconded with would be helpful and Danny felt kind of bad... but his growling stomach had chased that away quickly.

"This way!"

Danny shrugged his wavering morality off and followed the kid, shouldering his new and stolen duffle bag. If anything happened, he could just go ghost. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened in this city, Danny made sure to check.

"Have you been by the zoo?" Billy began to rattle off his favorite details about the Fawcett city zoo as he wove around the city.

Danny didn't think he'd actually have to go ghost.

"Not yet, actually. Is it true that there's a talking tiger there?"

"Yeah! Tawky Tawny! He's my friend!"

"Awesome."

[fabled-fiction]

Maybe a Hobie Brown x Mabel-Pines-Type!Reader? Older obviously, with just like, her personality and fashion sense? A Chaotic Sunshine meets Chaotic Rebel type thing.

If not interested, just ignore. But I look forward to whatever you write!

Starstruck (Hobie Brown x Fem!Sunshine!Reader)

Summary: You’re Jess Drew’s gal in the chair (in training), and when you have to make a quick trip the spider society you happen to catch a certain punk’s eye.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: MINOR SPIDERMAN ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SPOILERS, use of (Y/N)

A/N: I hope this meets your expectations!! I had alot of fun writing this!

EARTH-1618

KINGS, NEW YORK CITY

Your desk was more glitter than wood at this point.

It was hard to tell where the stickers stopped and where the wood of your desk started.

Especially now, as you squeezed glue on top of whatever artpiece you were currently working on. An array of different paint tubes and what looked like glitter bombs were spread about your work area, dangerously close to what looked like very expensive monitors and pcs. Though it was kind of hard to tell based on all the string worms and star stickers pasted on any surface that wasn’t a screen.

The project, which could only be identified as an oversized button pin upon closer inspection, was coming together nicely. Atleast in your eyes.

It read “BEST SPIDER” with a cute doddle of a spider surrounded by loads of blue, yellow, and red glitter. Currently you were putting your finishing touches on it by attaching color coordinated ribbons to the bottom ruffles.

The craftsmanship alone of it was indeed impressive, you just needed to look past the blinding reflectiveness of it.

It was for your mentor, Spiderwoman.

Who had taken you under her wing for the past two years, “training” you to be the best. Well, best in the sense of “gal in the chair”. At first it didn't make a whole lot of sense to you, but neither did the world you were thrown into. She apparently saw something in you from all the way across the multiverse.

The rest was history.

“(Y-)..(Y/N)...(Y/N)!”

The glue bottle currently in your hands spun in the air, a chaotically beautiful cascade of glue spewing in the air and (thankfully) somehow none of it landed on you. Slowly turning your head, you gave a small wave as you saw said mentor on the screen staring down at you.

“Jess! Hey…did you..did you try calling my watch?”

“What do you think?”

Spinning your chair across the room, you snatched your multiversal watch and flicked the screen on.

You did in fact have about five missed calls from her. You could feel her iced stare from across the room, hell from across dimensions.

“But it was getting in the way of my creative liberties!”

“I don’t care! As the second half of a spider person you need to be available 24/7! Your future spider will need to be able to rely on you.”

Slipping the watch onto your wrist, you shot yourself back over to your desk and smiled widely at her. She knew that whatever scolding she gave you would only have about a few moments effect. Sure the message would stick but she always had that nagging feeling in the back of her mind of how long it truly stuck.

“Well, You have me on the horn now! What's up? Who do I need to aid with my technological wonders? My sleuthing skills? I'm ready to Sherlock it up!”

After a few more long blank faced seconds, Jess reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“We actually need you here. Our resident Spider who usually deals with all of our technological deals is having some connectivity issues.”

Your heart stopped for a moment, but only for a moment before you were shooting out of your seat and whooping. Jumping around your room, you threw your fist in the air before a sudden realization dawned upon you mid air.

It was almost comical how you seemed to pause mid jump.

“Oh my god…I have to change. I can't show up to Spider Society looking like this!”

“(Y/N) there's no time! Grab your bag and get here now.”

Standing in shock, you huffed as you watched your computer screen clip off.

She was crazy if she thought you weren’t at least gonna put on some body glitter.

-

“Jess said to meet her here…do you think she got lost?”

Hobie shrugged, shoving his hands into his vest pockets. His fingers found themselves fiddling with whatever computer chip or part he had nabbed as he leaned against what could be considered a front desk.

“You know ‘er best. She usually punctual?”

Gwen looked up from her watch with an exasperated look. That told Hobie all he needed to know as he leaned his head back with a sigh.

“Listen! I've never met her in person! She’s one of Jess’s other trainees! I just know she's not a spider, and that despite having worked with Jess for two plus years she's never stepped foot in Spider Society!”

“She’s a chair?”

Pinching her nose, Gwen nodded. “Yea. A pretty good one too. She is a bit…eccentric though. And loud…I think she blew my eardrum out one time. I had tinnitus for like a week...”

“So she’s got some vocals on ‘er aye?”

“Thats all you picked up on? C’mon Hobie help me look for anyone who looks lost we’re supposed to chaperon h-”

Usually the portals that opened here were the usual semi-chaotic reality altering ones. But for some reason the one that just opened in front of them was nothing of the sort. No..this one opened with a loud tear; Everything and everyone in the vicinity was enveloped in a neon pink hue.

It was hard to tell who came stumbling out of the portal, as Hobie feared that if he moved his hand he would temporarily blind himself. But as the portal closed, and everything returned to its normal color palette, he finally dared to move his hand.

Maybe he shouldn’t have moved his hand.

Cause he was only met with a very different, blinding sight.

You had just fully stood from what he could only assume was a clumsy entrance. You wore what could only be described as almost every color of the rainbow but someone you pulled it off. There was absolutely no way you could move silently, as you were adorned in a plethora of kandi bracelets, pastel chains and pins. Your hair was adorned in a multitude of clips that matched the ones on your bag. 

Was your smile an accessory too? Hobie was sure it was, cause it was blinding him just as much as the body glitter that was spread over your legs and arms were.

His hand slowly reached up to clutch the chest of his jacket, in hopes that it would remind his heart to beat.

It wasn’t until Gwen had elbowed him in the side (hard enough to bruise might he add) that he remembered to breathe.

“Don’t stare, it's rude.”

He didn’t want to look away.

“Hi! Im Gwen…Stacy! We’ve talked a few times over coms?”

You smiled even wider as you grabbed Gwen’s hand and shook it rather violently (or enthusiastically it could have been confused for either). When she removed her hands from your drip it was left brighter than before for only a moment.

“Hi! Its nice to finally put a non-masked face to the name! Im (Y/N). And you are?”

Your sneakers squeaked as you took a sharp turn to face Hobie fully.

“Im Hobie Brown. Quiet the entrance you made.”

He holds his hand out, and is relieved when you shake it for just as long as you did Gwen’s. He watches as it glowed then returned to its normal saturation.

“Yeaaaa. Apparently my Earth is like WAY brighter than most. I would’ve brought sunglasses if I had known that would happen. Anyways…can you show me to the computer lab..hub…wherever this Spider-Byte normally operates?”

Gwen had taken it upon herself to lead the charge, and include a quick run over tour of whatever facility you all happened to pass on the way to the lab. 

Everything was so bright, but what amazed you more were the amount of Spider people that were just casually walking about. Either they were coming back from patrol, returning from break or coming for the first time.

You were sure your neck was gonna hurt or have a permanent crook in it from how much you were whipping your head around and turning to take everything in. You weren’t sure when the next time you would be here would be, so you wanted to take it all in.

“And here is where all the computer magic happens! You uh…know what you’ve gotta do from here right?” Gwen awkwardly raised her hands as if to present the lab.

“Yup! Im TECHNICALLY supposed to monitor your guys software and stuff and blah blah blah but I actually connected with Layla on the way here-who is super sweet by the way-and Im actually just gonna fix Spider-Byte’s connectivity issues here so she can get back to it. Y’know since she’s more knowledgeable with everything here. I would probably just mess something up.”

Despite the fact that you spoke about a mile a minute, and it was obvious Gwen was struggling to keep up, Hobie hung onto every word.

You moved like you had been here before despite this being your first time even stepping foot on the premises. You just moved with this sense of self confidence that had the aura of the room commanded by your presence alone. If you hadn’t told them your Earth just naturally saturated Hobie would have just assumed your essence was just too potent that it leaked off you and onto whatever you touched.

You were leagues above him when it came to the coolness factor.

Watching as you moved around the consoles via spinny chair (when did that get there?), each screen popped up and immediately began to run code. Hobie liked to pride himself on being a tech wiz, but this was levels beyond what he knew how to do. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from you.

But as he watched your hands, he noticed…were you TAKING code off the computers too?

Oh, that just brought a smile to his face.

As Gwen wandered over to the other side of the console to watch the miles of code run across the screen, Hobie took the opportunity to have a moment with you on the opposite side of the room.

Right when you went to shoot across him (and might he add it was almost like you had spider like reflexes with how you moved around on this thing), his hand went to grab the back of your chair.

Pulling the chair back, he watched as you rubber banded back into the seat and stood straight up. He leaned over your shoulder to look at the screen in front of you both. His hand reached over to tap a few keys and pull up the results onto just this screen.

Ignoring how his spider senses were shooting down his spine at an all time high with how close he was to you, he looked at you with a smirk.

“Did you just ‘alf inch some of our code?”

“Im sorry?”

Leaning in closer, he pulled the thumb drive out of only this terminal and held it up. Your cheeks turned a dark red in realization to being caught, and you crossed your arm as you started at him.

“You know wha’ I said”

Turning quickly, you pulled ANOTHER flash drive out from your pocket and stuck it into the port. The downloading resumed, and much to Hobie’s surprise you stood and snatched the thumb drive from him.

“First of all, I am part of the ‘’our’’ and second of all…it's none of your business.”

Suddenly multiple of the screens, well practically all of the screens in the room flashed green. With a pat of his shoulder, you rolled over to every computer and pulled out each flashdrive. Hobie counted…12!

He covered his mouth, trying to keep his cool disposition as he watched you quickly shove each one in your bag. You little grifter you…he would definitely have to find out what Earth you were from…

With the push of a button, you turned to them with a smile as you placed your hands on your hips.

“Alrighty! My work here is done…wait..,”

Turning around, you pressed the enter key on the computer behind you only to whip right back around smile as all the screens returned to normal.

You had been here all but twenty minutes and you managed to do solve all of their problems and then some.

“Now Im done! Gwen, you have my contact coordinate. Call me if you need me at all.”

Your eyes raked over Hobie, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest as he watched you carefully. The hair on your arms stood when he had leaned over you earlier. You could tell from his punk aesthetic and impressive hair that he was definitely anarchy incarnate…

He intrigued you. You were sure the data files you had picked up from the archives would barely answer every question you had about him.

You would have to push off your paper mache project for tonight…

“It was nice meeting you Hobie! Hope we can meet again sometime. Im like, basically free all the time…Later!”

Signing off with a peace sign, your neon portal opened again and closed in an instant as you fell into it.

“See what I mean, eccentric.”

“I thought she was pretty cool.”

Walking over to where you just stood, Hobie ran his fingers over where you had last touched hoping to catch some of the light leftover.

It was then he noticed you had left behind one of your thumb drives. It was definitely yours, a bright neon yellow covered in white glitter that fell off as he picked it up. His other hand came down to pick up the tag on the string connected to it.

‘Oops! Guess I left behind this VERY important thumb drive. Mind returning it to me? I like really need it for super duper important chair stuff…Earth 1618, Kings, New York City things y'know.

– (Y/N)’

[lotus-tower]

The Swiss Cheese Model of Covid Prevention

An edited version of the swiss cheese model tailored towards the measures that you as an individual can take to minimize your risk of infection. Public health is ultimately what its name implies, public, but that doesn't mean you're powerless.

Covid prevention is not all-or-nothing. Think of it as risk reduction, rather than a binary.

Let's go through these step by step.

VACCINES

The current vaccines are meant primarily to reduce chances of severe illness, hospitalization, and death. They will reduce your chance of infection a bit--but not nearly as much as you might think. You should still get your boosters regularly, because avoiding severe illness is of course worth doing.

If you haven't gotten the updated monovalent vaccine yet, go get it. It is not a booster. Think of it as a new vaccine. It's targeted towards the XBB lineages, which are now the most common variants. Your last boosters were likely of the bivalent type, aimed at both the original Covid strain from 2020 and Omicron. The new vaccine is monovalent, meaning it targets one family in particular.

Some studies suggest that the Novavax vaccine, which is a more traditional protein-based vaccine, is more effective and safer than mRNA vaccines, and offers better protection against future variants. Of course, the data we have so far isn't 100% conclusive (the last paper I linked is a preprint). Make of these findings what you will, just something to keep in mind. The new Novavax vaccine's availability is still limited, especially outside of the US.

MASKS

Masking is one of the most effective ways to protect yourself. While it is true that masking and reducing Covid transmission protects those around you, the idea that masks can't protect the wearer is outdated information from the early days of the pandemic when medical authorities refused to acknowledge that Covid is airborne.

The key to protecting yourself is to wear a well-fitting respirator. You want to minimize any gaps where air might leak out. If your glasses get fogged up, that's a sign that air is leaking.

Headbands will always have a tighter fit than earloop masks (and therefore provide better protection). However, you can use earloop extenders to improve the fit of earloop masks. You can find these online. Your comfort in wearing a mask is important, but there are options for compromise.

The above graphic doesn't include elastomeric respirators. While some (like the Flo Mask) are expensive, they can be much more affordable than buying disposables--look for P100 respirators at your local hardware store, but make sure it fits your face well.

For more general information, see this FAQ. For mask recommendations (NA-centric, sorry!), see my list here or Mask Nerd's YouTube channel.

For situations where you need to hydrate but don't want to take your mask off, consider the SIP valve.

Not even N95s are foolproof (N95 means it filters at least 95% of particles--with the other 5% potentially reaching you). Most people will likely not have a perfect fit. There will be situations where you'll have to take your mask off. The key is risk reduction, and that's why the Swiss cheese model is crucial.

If you can't afford high-quality masks, look for a local mask bloc or other organization that gives out free masks. Project N95 has unfortunately shut down. In Canada, there's donatemask.ca.

AVOID CROWDED INDOOR SPACES

This is rather self-explanatory. Indoor transmission is much, much, much more likely than outdoor transmission. If it's possible to move an activity outdoors instead, consider doing so.

If possible, try going to places like stores or the post office during less busy hours.

Viral particles can stay in the air for a considerable amount of time even after the person who expelled them has left. Do not take off your mask just because no one is currently present, if you know that it was previously crowded.

A CO2 monitor is a decent proxy for how many viral particles may have accumulated in the air around you. The gold standard is the Aranet4, but it's expensive, so here are some more affordable alternatives.

VENTILATION AND AIR FILTERS

Ventilation is effective for the same reason that outdoors is safer than indoors. If it's warm enough, keep windows open whenever possible. If it's cold, even cracking them open occasionally is better than nothing. Try to open windows or doors on different sides of a room to maximize airflow.

HEPA air filters can significantly reduce viral transmission indoors. Make sure to find one suitable for the room size, and replace the filters regularly. You want to look for devices with HEPA-13 filters.

You can use websites like these to calculate how long it takes for a device to change all the air in a room. Remember what I said about viral particles being able to hang around even after people have left? If an air purifier provides 2 air changes per hour, that means that after 30 minutes, any potential viral particles should be gone.

If you can't afford a commercial air filter, here's a useful DIY filter you can make with relatively simple materials. The filtration capacity is great--but due to being built with duct tape, replacing filters will be a challenge.

If you have to hold meetings or meet with people at work, having a smaller filter on the desk between you will also reduce chances of infection.

As a bonus, HEPA filters will also filter out other things like dust and allergens!

REDUCE LENGTH OF EXPOSURE IF EXPOSURE IS UNAVOIDABLE

Viral load refers to the amount of virus in a person's blood. If you've been exposed to someone with Covid, how much you've been exposed matters.

You might escape infection if the viral load you've been exposed to is very small. Or, even if you get infected, there will be less virus in you overall, leading to milder illness--and crucially, a lower chance of the virus penetrating deep into your body, creating reservoirs in your organs and wreaking long-term havoc.

A low viral load is also less contagious.

This is the same reason that wearing your mask most of the time, but having to take it off for eating, is still much better than not wearing your mask at all.

RECHARGEABLE PORTABLE AIR FILTERS

You might attract some odd looks. But if you're at high risk or just want to be as protected as possible, small portable air filters can help. Try to find models small enough to take with you on public transportation, to school, or while traveling.

These devices will be far too small to clean the air in the whole room. The goal is to have it filter air in your immediate vicinity. Be sure to angle the device so that the air is blowing in your face.

Unfortunately, rechargeable devices are much rarer and harder to find than normal air filters, and many are also expensive.

The best option at the moment, apart from DIY (which is possible, but you need to know what you're doing), seems to be the SmartAir QT3. The size and shape are a bit clunky, but it fits in a backpack. Its battery life isn't long, but it can be supplemented with a power bank.

NASAL SPRAYS

There's some research that suggests that some nasal sprays may be effective in reducing risk of infection by interfering with viruses' ability to bind to your cells.

These sprays are generally affordable, easy to find, and safe. The key ingredient is carrageenan, which is extracted from seaweed. So there are no potential risks or side effects.

Be sure to follow the instructions on the packaging carefully. Here's a video on how to properly use nasal sprays if you've never used them before.

Covixyl is another type of nasal spray that uses a different key ingredient, ethyl lauroyl arginate HCI. It also aims to disrupt viruses' ability to bind to cell walls. Unfortunately, I think it's difficult to obtain outside of the US.

CONCLUSION

None of the methods listed here are foolproof on their own. But by layering them, you can drastically reduce your chances of infection.

The most important layers, by far, are masking and air quality. But you should also stay conscientious when engaging with those layers. Don't let yourself become complacent with rules of thumb, and allow yourself to assess risk and make thought out decisions when situations arise where you might have to take off your mask or enter a high-risk indoor area, such as a hospital.

Remember that the goal is risk reduction. It's impossible to live risk-free, because we live among countless other people. But you can use knowledge and tools to keep yourself as safe as possible.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Miguel being cockwarmed?

Asdhepnfonelnlfbleb I LOVE YOU???

A Lesson Earned is A Lesson Learned

Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: SMUT, NSFW, teasing, cockwarming, dirty talk, Miguel's big ass hands

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

You loved your boyfriend, more than anybody else you've ever been romantically involved with.

Whatever you would give him, he would give back tenfold. Yeah, it was a bit suffocating at times, but you knew it was only because he was afraid of losing you like he'd lost his daughter.

He'd spoil you when you let him, but sometimes you simply had to tell him you weren't a material kinda girl. Physical affection, sweet words, and cuddles were what satisfied you most.

That and... Well. His hands. You'd be lying if having your shoulders or back or whatever part of you he wanted in his gigantic hands, kneading and rolling you into utter bliss didn't get you going.

And just one of his fingers was thick enough to stretch you better than some of your toys did. And yeah, sometimes you needed toys for relief when he worked so much.

His work with Alchemax and running the Spider Society left him quite busy. You weren't hurt by this, but it did make you feel lonely and rather... uppity.

So of course when he was home you paid him back in kind, teasing him relentlessly.

You would wear next to nothing, sexy lingerie, or maybe one of his gigantic tops that you were practically swimming in, not bothering with any panties beneath.

You knew full well with his super senses, that he could smell your arousal, especially if the tent in his pants were anything to go by.

But, he stayed glued to his monitors in his office, ignoring his erection and the sweet intoxicating smell of your slick all through his house. His sense of duty was strong, focused.

It aggravated you to no end.

So, with your cheek puffed out in irritation, you marched into his office, dimly lit save for the projections of his monitors as he scoured Alchemax work and reports from the other Spiders back at HQ.

"Miggy..." You sigh, coming up next to him in his chair.

"Hm?" He said, not looking at you.

But you can tell by how his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated that your scent was starting to get to him.

His gorgeous, chiseled jaw clenched almost imperceptibly as he swiped and pinched up another monitor.

You pouted and slipped your arm around his shoulder, sitting on the arm of his chair, knowing full well your sweet sweet nectar was coating the expensive leather; the scent would linger for a while, until he completely cleaned it and sterilized it.

You placed kisses up to his ear, then back down to where his suit collar ended, just beneath his pulse.

"Muñeca..." Miguel warned. "I'm working."

"I know, but I think you're working too hard." You sigh in his ear, taking his lobe between your lips and running your tongue along the edge.

He hissed at you. "Cállate, mujer diablo, estoy haciendo algo importante."

You frowned and ignored his warning. Instead, you leaned in, your breasts squishing against the heavy muscle of his bicep, and reached down, stroking the outline of his cock that was straining his suit with your small hand.

"C'mon, Miggy. You're a workaholic." You coo playfully. "Just let me..."

He gripped your wrist when your hand went to his watch to disable his suit.

His eyes were sharp, annoyed. It sent a thrum of fear through your bloodstream as he curled his lip back, revealing his crooked, fanged teeth as he sneered at you.

"You want to annoy me? Fine." He reached out and gripped your hair, pulling your head back sharply, before his breath was hot in your ear.

"Pero recuerda que yo tengo el control."

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

You should have known.

God, but you never learn, do you? Every time you think he's going to do something you want, he does the opposite.

Just to reach you a lesson.

"Stop squirming." He huffed, reaching around you to type in notes on his holographic keyboard.

You whined, trying desperately to grind your hips down, to get his cock just a bit deeper inside of you, wanting so badly to have him just pin you to the desk and pound you until your eyes crossed.

But he kept you firmly secured in his lap. He wouldn't let you touch yourself, you had to keep your hands gripped at the arms of the desk chair that creaked under your combined weight.

He kept you from moving, his thick thighs parting your knees and keeping your legs spread open for him while he continued to work.

"Miggy!" You mewled. "Please! Sorry for bugging you, I just--"

He growled and reached between your legs, pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger hard, a mix of pain and pleasure sparking up your spine and making your pussy flutter around the length of his cock that was currently splitting you open.

You make a sharp squeak as he snapped, "¿Qué acabo de hacer?"

He smacked your cunt that he was currently stuffed inside of, sending another wave of heat racing through you, more of your slick gushing around him to run down to his heavy balls and staining the expensive leather.

"I said keep quiet. I'm working."

He leaned in, his presence absolutely absorbing your frame, his scent swallowing you whole, threatening to devour you in one piece.

"This is what you wanted, no?" He sighed. "You wanted me inside this pretty little pussy. You got me. Now sit still."

You hiccuped softly. "Please. You know I wanted you to fuck me! Not like this..."

"Too bad, mi amor. I swear, if I had a dollar off every time I have to keep teaching you this lesson, I'd be a trillionare." He said to you, his voice a low threat.

"How many times do I have to do this before you learn patience? Hmm? A hundred? A thousand?"

You desperately roll your hips, feeling the tip of his rock brush against that gummy soft spot inside of you. "I--I just--"

He hisses, gritting his teeth as his fangs slot into their places. He brings his hand up to the lowest part your abdomen, and pressed down hard.

You all at once felt the air squeezed out of your lungs, your pussy greedily squeezing him, your heart pounding in your chest, sweat beading on your brow and sweet tears rolling down your cheeks.

"You're going to sit here and stay still while I work. And maybe--maybe--if you stay quiet and stop squirming, I'll give you what you want. Understood?"

You frantically nod your head and Miguel cruelly flicked your clit.

"That's it. Be a good little cocksleeve for me, eh, bebita?"

[sunnydbeam]

What materials is Biohazard made of? I guess not everything resists radiation

Indeed! No material is totally resistant to radiation; it always depends on the amount of radiation and the exposure time.

Let me get a little nerdy

I clarify and repeat: I'm not an expert on the subject. I did research for this AU in general and thus determined the right materials for the construction of Biohazard. I may be wrong. But this is sci-fi, and some things are improbable but intentional, like Biohazard's melting rays!

Endoskeleton and joints: titanium alloys, stainless steel, and aluminum reinforced with carbon fiber.

Internal components:

Microchips and components: specifically designed to withstand high doses of radiation and encased in a dense layer of ceramic material within a tungsten protective box.

Sensors made with materials resistant to radiation and high temperatures. Integrated into the endoskeleton and protected by a dense covering material.

Actuators: electric or hydraulic motors made with corrosion- and wear-resistant materials. Located within the joints and protected by the endoskeleton.

Metallic lithium-Ion batteries specially designed to operate in extreme environments, housed in a tungsten protective box, away from sensitive components.

Cooling system: copper tubes and non-flammable, radiation-resistant cooling fluids integrated into the endoskeleton to dissipate heat generated by electronic components and shielding.

Protection systems:

Primary shielding: lead sheets and boron-based composite materials, 1.5 centimeters thick.

Secondary/Exterior shielding: tungsten sheets, 1 cm thick.

Biohazard has numerous limbs and components functioning as redundant systems. In the event of a failure, he can continue operating with backups.

He used to integrate cameras and sensors for remote monitoring and data collection. These are no longer operational.

Being made of very dense materials, he's extremely robust and heavy! You practically couldn't lift one of his arms if he were off!

He was very, very expensive to manufacture as well. The frustration was very great when the project "didn't work".

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Why is this Canadian university scared of you seeing its Privacy Impact Assessment?

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

Barbra Streisand is famous for many things: her exciting performances on the big screen, the small screen, and the stage; her Grammy-winning career as a musician (she's a certified EGOT!); and for all the times she's had to correct people who've added an extra vowel to the spelling of her first name (I can relate!).

But a thousand years from now, her legacy is likely to be linguistic, rather than artistic. The "Streisand Effect" – coined by Mike Masnick – describes what happens when someone tries to suppress a piece of information, only to have that act of attempted suppression backfire by inciting vastly more interest in the subject:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Streisand_effect

The term dates to 2003, when Streisand sued the website Pictopia and its proprietors for $50m for reproducing an image from the publicly available California Coastal Records Project (which produces a timeseries of photos of the California coastline in order to track coastal erosion). The image ("Image 3850") incidentally captured the roofs of Streisand's rather amazing coastal compound, which upset Streisand.

But here's the thing: before Streisand's lawsuit, Image 3850 had only been viewed six times. After she filed the case, another 420,000 people downloaded that image. Not only did Streisand lose her suit (disastrously so – she was ordered to pay the defendants' lawyers $177,000 in fees), but she catastrophically failed in her goal of keeping this boring, obscure photo from being seen:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Streisand_effect

Streisand has since called the suit "a mistake." On the one hand, that is very obviously true, but on the other hand, it's still admirable, given how many other failed litigants went to their graves insisting that their foolish and expensive legal gambit was, in fact, very smart and we are all very stupid for failing to understand that.

Which brings me to Ian Linkletter and the Canadian Privacy Library. Linkletter is the librarian and founder of the nonprofit Canadian Privacy Library, a newish online library that collects and organizes privacy-related documents from Canadian public institutions. Linkletter kicked off the project with the goal of collecting the Privacy Impact Assessments from every public university in Canada, starting in his home province of BC.

These PIAs are a legal requirement whenever a public university procures a piece of software, and they're no joke. Ed-tech vendors are pretty goddamned cavalier when it comes to student privacy, as Linkletter knows well. Back in 2020, Linkletter was an ed-tech specialist for the University of British Columbia, where he was called upon to assess Proctorio, a "remote invigilation" tool that monitored remote students while they sat exams.

This is a nightmare category of software, a mix of high-tech phrenology (vendors claim that they can tell when students are cheating by using "AI" to analyze their faces); arrogant techno-sadism (vendors requires students – including those sharing one-room apartments with "essential worker" parents on night shifts who sleep during the day – to pan their cameras around to prove that they are alone); digital racism (products are so bad at recognizing Black faces that some students have had to sit exams with multiple task-lights shining directly onto their faces); and bullshit (vendors routinely lie about their tools' capabilities and efficacy).

Worst: remote invigilation is grounded in the pedagogically bankrupt idea that learning is best (or even plausibly) assessed through high-stakes testing. The kind of person who wants to use these tools generally has no idea how learning works and thinks of students as presumptively guilty cheats. They monitor test-taking students in realtime, and have been known to jiggle test-takers' cursors impatiently when students think too long about their answers. Remote invigilation also captures the eye-movements of test-takers, flagging people who look away from the screen while thinking for potential cheating. No wonder that many students who sit exams under these conditions find themselves so anxious that they vomit or experience diarrhea, carefully staring directly into the camera as they shit themselves or vomit down their shirts, lest they be penalized for looking away or visiting the toilet.

Linkletter quickly realized that Proctorio is a worst-in-class example of a dreadful category. The public-facing materials the company provided about its products were flatly contradicted by the materials they provided to educators, where all the really nasty stuff was buried. The company – whose business exploded during the covid lockdowns – is helmed by CEO Mike Olsen, a nasty piece of work who once doxed a child who criticized him in an online forum:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/01/bossware/#moral-exemplar

Proctorio's products are shrouded in secrecy. In 2020, for reasons never explained, all the (terrible, outraged) reviews of its browser plugin disappeared from the Chrome store:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/04/hypervigilance/#radical-transparency

Linkletter tweeted his alarming findings, publishing links to the unlisted, but publicly available Youtube videos where Proctorio explained how its products really worked. Proctorio then sued Linkletter, for copyright infringement.

Proctorio's argument is that by linking to materials that they published on Youtube with permissions that let anyone with the link see them, Linkletter infringed upon their copyright. When Linkletter discovered that these videos already had publicly available links, indexed by Google, in the documentation produced by other Proctorio customers for students and teachers, Proctorio doubled down and argued that by collecting these publicly available links to publicly available videos, Linkletter had still somehow infringed on their copyright.

Luckily for Linkletter, BC has an anti-SLAPP law that is supposed to protect whistleblowers facing legal retaliation for publishing protected speech related to matters of public interest (like whether BC's flagship university has bought a defective and harmful product that its students will be forced to use). Unluckily for Linkletter, the law is brand new, lacks jurisprudence, and the courts have decided that he can't use a SLAPP defense and his case must go to trial:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/20/links-arent-performances/#free-ian-linkletter

Linkletter could have let that experience frighten him away from the kind of principled advocacy that riles up deep-pocketed, thin-skinned bullies. Instead, he doubled down, founding the Canadian Privacy Library, with the goal of using Freedom of Information requests to catalog all of Canada's post-secondary institutions' privacy assessments. Given how many bodies he found buried in Proctorio's back yard, this feels like the kind of thing that should be made more visible to Canadians.

There are 25 public universities in BC, and Linkletter FOI'ed them all. Eleven provided their PIAs. Eight sent him an estimate of what it would cost them (and thus what they would charge) to assemble these docs for him. Six requested extensions.

One of them threatened to sue.

Langara College is a 19,000-student spinout of Vancouver Community College whose motto is Eruditio Libertas Est ("Knowledge is Freedom"). Linkletter got their 2019 PIA for Microsoft's Office 365 when he FOI'ed the Nicola Valley Institute of Technology (universities often recycle one another's privacy impact assessments, which is fine).

That's where the trouble started. In June, Langara sent Linkletter a letter demanding that he remove their Office 365 PIA; the letter CC'ed two partners in a law firm, and accused Linkletter of copyright infringement. But that's not how copyright – or public records – work. As Linkletter writes, the PIA is "a public record lawfully obtained through an FOI request" – it is neither exempted from disclosure, nor is it confidential:

https://www.privacylibrary.ca/legal-threat/

Langara claims that in making their mandatory Privacy Impact Assessment for Office 365 available, Linkletter has exposed them to "heightened risks of data breaches and privacy incidents," they provided no evidence to support this assertion.

I think they're full of shit, but you don't have to take my word for it. After initially removing the PIA, Linkletter restored it, and you can read it for yourself:

https://www.privacylibrary.ca/langara-college-privacy-impact-assessments/

I read it. It is pretty goddamned anodyne – about as exciting as looking at the roof of Barbra Streisand's mansion.

Sometimes, where there's smoke, there's only Streisand – a person who has foolishly decided to use the law to bully a weaker stranger out of disclosing some innocuous and publicly available fact about themselves. But sometimes, where there's smoke, there's fire. A lot of people who read my work are much more familiar with ed-tech, privacy, and pedagogy than I am. If that's you, maybe you want to peruse the Langara PIA to see if they are hiding something because they're exposing their students to privacy risks and don't want that fact to get out.

There are plenty of potential privacy risks in Office 365! The cloud version of Microsoft Office contains a "bossware" mode that allows bosses to monitor their workers' keystrokes for spelling, content, and accuracy, and produce neat charts of which employees are least "productive." The joke's on the boss, though: Office 365 also has a tool that lets you compare your department's usage of Office 365 to your competitors, which is another way of saying that Microsoft is gathering your trade secrets and handing it out to your direct competitors:

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

So, yeah, there are lots of "features" in Office 365 that could give rise to privacy threats when it is used at a university. One hopes that Langara correctly assessed these risks and accounted for them in its PIA, which would mean that they are bullying Linkletter out of reflex, rather than to cover up wrongdoing. But there's only one way to find out: go through the doc that Linkletter has restored to public view.

Linkletter has excellent pro bono representation from Norton Rose Fulbright, a large and powerful law-firm that is handling his Proctorio case. Linkletter writes, "they have put this public college on notice that any proceeding is liable to be dismissed pursuant to the Protection of Public Participation Act, BC’s anti-SLAPP legislation."

Langara has now found themselves at the bottom of a hole, and if they're smart, they'll stop digging.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/01/eruditio-libertas-est/#streisand-v-linkletter

Image: Copyright (C) 2002 Kenneth & Gabrielle Adelman, California Coastal Records Project, www.californiacoastline.org (modified) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Streisand_Estate.jpgbr>

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

--

Langara College (modified) https://langara.ca/

Fair use (parody) https://scholarship.law.ufl.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1104

Fair dealing (parody) https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=1468015

[satansdarlin]

The Valentine dilemma

Tim Drake x nb!reader

Rating: T

Word count: 10k

Warnings: none

Notes: the reader in this is implied to be autistic but it's never stated! Enjoy some soft loving valentines day shenanigans!! <3 comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tim was at a loss. The Timothy Drake, boy genius, youngest CEO in the country—a man who could solve complex corporate mergers over breakfast and decode encrypted files in his sleep—was completely, utterly at a loss. Because of you.

He sat in his office, the Gotham skyline a gray backdrop behind him, tapping his fingers against his mahogany desk in an erratic rhythm that would have driven his secretary mad if she'd been present. The blue light of his multiple monitors cast shadows across his face as he frowned at his calendar, the approaching February 14th seeming to mock him with its cheerful red highlight.

Timothy had partners before—many partners, if he was being honest. More than he cared to admit. He'd gone through what Dick fondly called his "wild phase" in his early twenties, a time when he was trying to find himself between the weight of Wayne Enterprises and his nighttime activities. All of those partners had made this particular holiday easy. Almost formulaic, really.

What was the problem exactly? Valentine's Day. In the past, the equation had been simple: expensive chocolates (usually Godiva) + roses (red, always red) + reservation at whatever restaurant had earned the latest Michelin star + intimate evening = successful Valentine's Day. It was a proven formula, tested and refined over years of dating experience.

You, however, were proving to be an anomaly in his carefully calculated world. The conversation had started innocently enough, on a quiet Sunday afternoon in your shared apartment.

"What do you wanna do for Valentine's?" Tim asked, not looking up from his computer screen where he was reviewing quarterly projections. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he spoke, multitasking as always. "I just wanna know so I can make reservations."

You were sprawled on the floor of his home office, surrounded by puzzle pieces—one of those impossibly difficult ones with a thousand pieces of just sky and clouds. The sight of you there, completely at ease in his space, made something warm settle in his chest, even as your response made him freeze.

"I didn't have anything planned," you hummed back, squinting at two nearly identical pieces before fitting one perfectly into place. "I figured we weren't doing anything."

That made him frown, his fingers stilling on the keyboard. He swiveled his chair to face you properly, brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't we do anything?"

You looked up at him then, and he was struck, as he often was, by how your analytical mind matched his own—except in moments like these, when it drove him slightly mad.

"It's a commercial holiday celebrating love on a day where hundreds of people have been historically killed," you mused, turning another puzzle piece in your hands. "The commercialization of romance is fascinating from a sociological perspective, but ultimately meaningless. Plus," you added, offering him that small, sincere smile that never failed to make his heart skip, "it's not like I need a day to prove you love me, Timothy. It's not necessary for us to celebrate."

You see what he was dealing with here?

Usually, your blunt and analytical view on things was refreshing—comforting, even. It was one of the things that had drawn him to you in the first place. You could match him theory for theory, debate for debate. You understood his need for logic and reason, never demanded he be more emotional than he was capable of being.

Except when it came to holidays.

Christmas? You'd gotten him an incredibly thoughtful gift last year—a rare first edition of his favorite scientific journal—but when he'd asked what you wanted, you'd just shrugged and said his presence was enough. He'd ended up buying you three different presents just to be safe.

Halloween? You didn't dress up, claiming the modern interpretation of the holiday had strayed too far from its historical roots to be meaningful. Instead, you just put out a bowl of candy outside the apartment door with a neat sign asking trick-or-treaters to take one piece each (they never did).

But Valentine's Day? You didn't even want to celebrate Valentine's Day?

Tim ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up in frustration. He needed backup. This required a tactical approach, possibly a flowchart, and definitely advice from someone who understood the complexity of dating a person who viewed holidays through an anthropological lens rather than an emotional one.

He pulled out his phone, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he debated who to text. Dick would just tell him to be romantic. Jason would laugh at him. Bruce... no, definitely not Bruce. Maybe Barbara? She'd always been good at finding logical solutions to emotional problems.

As he contemplated his options, you continued with your puzzle, completely unaware of the crisis you'd sparked in your boyfriend's overactive mind. The worst part was, he knew you meant every word. You truly didn't need grand gestures or commercial holidays to feel loved. But Tim Drake had never backed down from a challenge, and he wasn't about to start now.

He just needed to figure out how to make Valentine's Day meaningful to someone who could quote mortality statistics from the St. Valentine's Day Massacre while assembling a puzzle of the Sistine Chapel ceiling.

Tim slipped out of his home office, mumbling something about needing to make a call. A little white lie never hurt anyone, especially when he was trying to crack the code of making his analytically-minded lover appreciate a day dedicated to romance. Once safely in the hallway, he pulled out his phone, took a steadying breath, and dialed a number he probably should have called sooner. Your best friend would know what to do—assuming she didn't roast him mercilessly first.

The line rang twice before Tay picked up. "Hey Timber, whatcha need?"

Tim winced at the nickname but pressed on. "Do you have any clue what (Y/N) would enjoy on Valentine's Day?"

The silence that followed was so complete, Tim pulled the phone away from his ear to check if the call had dropped. It hadn't.

"Oh boy." Tay's voice was loaded with meaning, none of it encouraging. "Listen, Tim. They aren't exactly... huge on holidays, which I'm sure you know by now. But Valentine's Day? That's probably the one they care about the least."

"I'm aware of that now, Tay," Tim replied, trying not to let his frustration seep into his voice. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

"Alright, alright, don't get pissy now." There was rustling on the other end of the line, followed by what sounded like papers being shuffled. "Give me a moment." More shuffling. "Well... you could go the nuclear option."

"I'm willing." Tim's voice dropped to an almost vulnerable softness, one that made Tay pause in her paper shuffling. It was the voice of a man who had faced down Gotham's worst villains with less trepidation than he felt about potentially disappointing his partner on Valentine's Day.

"You really care about this, don't you?" Tay's tone softened. "Okay, here's what you need to know about (Y/N)..."

And that's how Tim found himself, three days before Valentine's Day, transforming the entire route from your apartment to his safe house, all the way back to Wayne Manor, into an elaborate puzzle. He'd scattered clues throughout the city—some of which he'd actually workshopped a few nights ago while apprehending the Riddler (he was a multitasker, and hey, if you couldn't test your Valentine's Day riddles on an actual riddle-obsessed villain, when could you?).

He was a good boyfriend, damn it. If you wouldn't celebrate a commercial holiday about love, then he'd turn it into something you couldn't resist: an intellectual challenge. Each clue was a carefully crafted combination of historical facts, mathematical equations, and obscure references that would make your analytical mind light up with interest. The final destination? Well, that was the real surprise.

Tim stood in the Manor's library, surveying his handiwork with the same intensity he usually reserved for crime scene analysis. The room had been transformed into what he hoped was the perfect blend of romance and intellectual stimulation. Books on the history of Valentine's Day across different cultures were strategically placed alongside ancient texts about love and partnership. He'd even managed to track down original documents about the St. Valentine's Day Massacre—because nothing said "I love you" quite like historical artifacts about the very tragedy you'd cited as a reason not to celebrate.

Now he just had to hope that turning Valentine's Day into the world's most romantic scavenger hunt would work. Because if it didn't, he was completely out of ideas—and he really didn't want to have to call Tay back for a Plan B.

.

.

.

Valentine's Day arrived crisp and clear, the kind of winter morning where Gotham almost looked clean in the pale sunlight. You were juggling a bag of groceries as you approached the penthouse door, trying to fish your keys out of your pocket without dropping anything. Tim had seemed so deflated when you'd dismissed Valentine's Day, and while you still stood by your position on commercial holidays, you couldn't quite shake the image of his disappointed face from your mind. So you'd decided to compromise—not because it was Valentine's Day, but because you loved him. You were going to surprise him with his favorite meal when he got back from whatever mysterious errand had called him away this morning.

The door swung open, and you nearly dropped your groceries.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, perfectly positioned to catch your eye the moment you walked in, was a pristine white rabbit plush toy. It was propped up against your hardback copy of "Alice in Wonderland"—the antique edition Tim had given you for your birthday, appreciating both your love of literature and historical artifacts. The rabbit held a cream-colored note in its paws, the paper looking suspiciously like the expensive stationery Tim kept in his home office.

You set the groceries down slowly, your analytical mind already whirring to life. The white rabbit was an obvious reference to "Alice in Wonderland," but Tim never did anything without multiple layers of meaning. Was this a literary reference? A historical one? Both?

Your fingers brushed against the note as you picked it up, the paper thick and textured. The handwriting was unmistakably Tim's—precise and measured, even when he was trying to be whimsical:

"'Begin at the beginning,' the King said, very gravely, 'and go on till you come to the end: then stop.' But where is the beginning? Perhaps where time never moves forward... Follow the white rabbit, if you dare. But remember—you're already late for a very important date."

A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The reference was obvious enough—the quote from "Alice in Wonderland" paired with the white rabbit. But the clue about time never moving forward? That was pure Tim, giving you something to actually puzzle over. Your eyes narrowed as you considered the possibilities, your dinner plans temporarily forgotten in favor of this new intellectual challenge.

Time never moving forward... A clock that's stuck? Too obvious for Tim. Your gaze swept the penthouse, taking in the familiar space with new eyes. That's when it hit you—the antique grandfather clock Tim had insisted on installing in your shared study. The one that hadn't worked since you moved in, its hands permanently frozen at 3:47.

You made your way to the study, the white rabbit clutched in one hand (because somehow you knew you'd need it later). The study was exactly as you'd left it that morning—or almost exactly. The morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows caught on something that definitely hadn't been there before: a delicate teacup perched precariously on top of the grandfather clock.

"Curiouser and curiouser," you muttered, a smile playing at your lips as you reached for the cup. It was fine bone china, decorated with intricate clockwork patterns in gold leaf. Inside, another note was folded into an origami rabbit (and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had taken Tim to learn that particular skill).

You carefully unfolded it, appreciating the precise creases that had formed the rabbit shape. This note was written in a spiral pattern, forcing you to turn the paper as you read:

"What runs but never walks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never talks, has a head but never weeps? In Gotham's heart, where time flows ever forward unlike our frozen friend here, seek the next white rabbit where the answer meets the stars."

A river. The riddle's answer was a river, and given the mention of stars... You glanced at the clock again, 3:47. Then at the teacup with its clockwork patterns, and finally at the white rabbit in your hand. A slow grin spread across your face as the pieces clicked into place.

The River's Edge Observatory. It had been one of your first dates with Tim—he'd taken you stargazing there at exactly 3:47 AM, claiming it was the perfect time to see a particular constellation. The observatory sat right on the bank of the Gotham River, and it housed an impressive collection of antique timepieces in addition to its telescopes.

"Well played, Timothy," you murmured, already reaching for your coat. The grocery bag in the kitchen was completely forgotten now—your analytical mind was fully engaged in the puzzle before you, and you had to admit, if only to yourself, that Tim had found perhaps the one way to make Valentine's Day intriguing.

The River's Edge Observatory stood proud against the winter sky, its glass dome reflecting the afternoon sun. As you approached, you couldn't help but remember that first date—how Tim had seemed so nervous until you'd started discussing the mathematical precision required for astronomical calculations, and then he'd lit up like the stars you were watching.

The security guard at the entrance—who looked suspiciously like one of Bruce's more trusted employees—simply nodded and waved you through with a knowing smile. Inside, your footsteps echoed against the marble floors as you made your way to the antique timepiece exhibition. The collection was housed in the west wing, where the afternoon sun created dancing patterns through the carefully preserved clockwork mechanisms.

You found what you were looking for in front of the observatory's prized possession: a 17th-century astronomical clock that tracked not just time, but the movement of celestial bodies. There, seated on the display case, was another white rabbit—this one made of clockwork parts, its gears visible through a transparent casing. In its mechanical paws was a star chart, clearly torn from an antique book (and knowing Tim, it was probably a replica—he respected historical artifacts too much to damage a real one).

The chart showed a constellation you didn't immediately recognize, which was unusual. You squinted at it, then noticed the subtle alterations. Tim had modified the star chart, connecting different stars to create... was that a tea pot? The constellation had been redrawn to show the outline of a Victorian tea service, complete with cups and saucers.

Turning the chart over, you found your next clue written in Tim's precise hand:

"Time for tea? Not quite yet. But where does a detective go when they need to think? When the streets are quiet and the crowds are gone, there's a place where leaves float on midnight thoughts and mysteries steep in porcelain dreams. Find me where we first shared a cup of something stronger than tea, and watch your step—the next rabbit might be mad as a hatter."

You couldn't help but laugh. The Midnight Steep—a twenty-four hour tea shop in the old district that doubled as a coffee house by day. It was where you and Tim had first met outside of his official Wayne Enterprises duties. You'd been there at an ungodly hour, running on coffee and determination while working on your thesis. He'd been there avoiding sleep after a particularly rough patrol (though you hadn't known that part at the time). You'd ended up sharing a pot of their strongest coffee blend and debating the historical accuracy of detective novels until sunrise.

"Going for the sentimental angle, are we?" you mused aloud, tucking both the clockwork rabbit and the star chart into your bag. The sun was starting to set now, painting Gotham in shades of amber and rose. Whatever Tim was planning, he'd clearly put more thought into this than any simple dinner reservation.

As you headed for the exit, you found yourself actually looking forward to what came next—not because it was Valentine's Day, but because Tim had managed to transform a commercial holiday into an intellectual treasure hunt through your shared history. It was exactly the kind of thoughtful, complex gesture that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

The Midnight Steep looked exactly as it had the night you'd met Tim—a narrow Victorian townhouse wedged between two modern buildings, its windows glowing with warm light that spilled onto the darkening street. The brass bell above the door chimed softly as you entered, and the familiar scent of coffee and tea leaves enveloped you.

The owner, Mrs. Chen, looked up from behind the counter and smiled knowingly. "Back corner table," she said before you could ask, her eyes twinkling. "The one where you two first argued about Sherlock Holmes for three hours."

You made your way through the maze of mismatched furniture, each piece carefully chosen from different historical periods—something that had fascinated you during that first conversation with Tim. The back corner table was your favorite, tucked into a cozy alcove beneath a stained glass window. Tonight, it held a complete Victorian tea service, steam rising gently from the pot.

And there, in your usual seat, was another white rabbit. This one was crafted entirely of tea leaves and coffee beans, preserved somehow to hold its shape. It was holding what looked like a small leather-bound journal, the kind detectives used in the noir films you and Tim sometimes watched together.

Opening the journal, you found pages of what appeared to be random notes about various cases—all written in Tim's handwriting, but in different colored inks. Some words were circled, others underlined, and some had been crossed out entirely. It looked like genuine case notes, except... you noticed a pattern in the circled words.

You pulled a pen from your bag and began writing down each circled word in order:

"When shadows fall and heroes rise,

Where masks hide truth and secrets lie,

Seek the place where darkness meets

The highest point above these streets.

Where first you learned my other life,

Where trust was given sharp as knife.

The rabbit waits in shadows deep,

Where gargoyles their eternal watch do keep."

Your breath caught slightly. You knew exactly where this one led—the rooftop of the old Gothic Revival bank building, forty stories above the streets of Gotham. It was where Tim had first revealed his identity as Red Robin to you, after you'd figured out most of it yourself and confronted him with your evidence. He'd been impressed with your deductive reasoning, and instead of denying it, he'd taken you to that rooftop and shown you his world.

You glanced at your watch—the sun had fully set now, and Gotham's lights were starting to twinkle to life. Time to see what other memories Tim had woven into this elaborate puzzle.

As you stood to leave, Mrs. Chen appeared with a to-go cup of your usual order. "He said you might need the caffeine," she explained with a smile. "That boy thinks of everything, doesn't he?"

"He certainly tries," you agreed, accepting the cup gratefully. You carefully packed the tea-leaf rabbit and the journal into your bag alongside the others. Each rabbit was different, each clue more personal than the last. Despite your usual stance on Valentine's Day, you had to admit—Tim was making it very hard to maintain your academic disapproval of the holiday.

The old Gothic Revival bank building was a masterpiece of architecture, its gargoyles casting long shadows in the moonlight. You made your way to the roof access door—which, unsurprisingly, was already unlocked. Tim had clearly planned every detail. The winter wind whipped around you as you emerged onto the rooftop, carrying with it memories of that first night: the mix of fear and exhilaration as Tim showed you his world, the way your entire understanding of him had shifted and deepened in those moments.

The rooftop looked different in the peaceful night air than it had during that adrenaline-filled revelation. String lights had been carefully strung between the gargoyles, creating a soft glow that didn't interfere with the view of Gotham's skyline. And there, perched on the very same ledge where Tim had first removed his mask, sat another white rabbit.

This one was made of metal—but not just any metal. As you picked it up, you recognized the distinctive material: a piece of one of Tim's old bo staffs, carefully crafted into the shape of a rabbit. In its paws was a small USB drive designed to look like a domino mask.

You pulled out your tablet (because of course Tim knew you always carried it), and plugged in the drive. A single video file popped up, timestamped from three nights ago. When you pressed play, you had to stifle a laugh—it was surveillance footage from the Riddler's latest capture, but with audio included. You could hear Tim's voice, slightly distorted through his mask, workshopping Valentine's Day riddles while he fought.

"How's this one?" sound of a punch landing "Where memories are stored in paper and ink," dodge "Where knowledge flows as free as drink," sweep kick "Where first we met, though strangers then," grappling hook shot "Find your next clue with books as your friend."

Even Riddler had paused in their fight to critique his rhyming scheme.

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. The answer was obvious enough—the university library where you'd first met Tim during a Wayne Enterprises tech demonstration. You'd been the graduate student chosen to present your department's research, and he'd been the young CEO everyone underestimated. You'd ended up in a heated debate about the ethical implications of artificial intelligence that had run so long they'd had to reschedule the rest of the demonstrations.

"Only you would use a fight with Riddler to practice Valentine's Day clues," you murmured, tucking the metal rabbit carefully into your bag with the others. The library was only a few blocks away, and you had a feeling this elaborate trail was nearing its end.

As you made your way back to the roof access door, you paused to look out over the city. The string lights reflected off the gargoyles, making their fierce faces seem almost festive. For someone who claimed to be opposed to Valentine's Day, you were surprisingly eager to see what came next.

The trail Tim left wound through the city like a string of memories: from the university library (where you found a rabbit made of pressed book pages, holding a card catalog entry that led you to the museum), to the Gotham Museum of History (where a rabbit carved from an "authentic" Egyptian artifact—knowing Tim, a perfect replica—directed you to the park), to Robinson Park (where a rabbit made of preserved flowers pointed you toward Wayne Manor).

Each location held significance, each clue more elaborate than the last, until finally you found yourself walking the winding path through Wayne Manor's extensive gardens. The winter air had grown crisp, but strings of lights wound through the bare branches of the trees, creating a canopy of stars beneath the real ones. The path was lined with lanterns, their warm glow leading you deeper into the garden.

You turned a corner and stopped, a small laugh escaping your lips.

There, in the center of the garden, was a scene pulled straight from the pages of "Alice in Wonderland"—but with a distinctly Tim Drake twist. A long table had been set up to mirror the Mad Hatter's tea party illustration from your antique edition, complete with mismatched chairs of various sizes and styles. Dozens of teacups and saucers of different patterns were arranged along its length, some stacked precariously high, others laid out with scientific precision. Steam rose from various teapots, and platters of small sandwiches and pastries filled the spaces between.

Fairy lights were strung above in chaotic patterns that, you suddenly realized, mapped out actual constellations. Historical artifacts related to timekeeping—clearly on loan from the Wayne collection—were artfully arranged among the tea settings. Each place setting had a different book beside it, all first editions of various detective novels and scientific texts you'd discussed with Tim over the years.

And there, at the head of the table, sat Tim himself. He'd dressed for the part in a slightly modern take on Victorian formal wear, complete with a top hat that sat slightly askew on his dark hair. When he saw you, his face lit up with that particular smile he reserved just for you—the one that made him look younger, unburdened by the weight of his various responsibilities.

"You're late for tea," he called out, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "But then again, I suppose we're all mad here."

You approached the table slowly, taking in every detail. Each rabbit you'd collected throughout the day had a place at the table, arranged chronologically to tell the story of your relationship. The white plush rabbit that had started it all sat in the chair to Tim's right—your usual spot whenever you dined at the manor.

"This is ridiculous," you said, but you couldn't keep the fondness from your voice. "You went through all this trouble just because I said I didn't want to celebrate Valentine's Day?"

Tim stood, moving around the table to pull out your chair. "Actually, I went through all this trouble because you said Valentine's Day was just a commercial holiday for proving love." He grinned. "So I decided to make it a historical, literary, and intellectual holiday instead. Complete with primary sources, mathematical precision in the constellation mapping, and several riddles that I'm pretty sure even Riddler would approve of."

As you sat down, taking in the elaborate setup that somehow managed to combine every aspect of your shared interests and history, you had to admit defeat. "Well played, Timothy," you conceded, watching as he poured tea from an antique pot. "Though I hope you realize this sets a rather high bar for any future holidays."

"Challenge accepted," he replied without missing a beat, and you could already see the gears turning in his mind. "Though I should warn you—I've already started planning for your birthday. How do you feel about a mystery dinner party based on unsolved historical cases?"

You laughed, reaching for his hand across the table. "Only you would turn my dislike of commercial holidays into an excuse for elaborate intellectual puzzles."

"Is it working?" he asked, and beneath the playful tone was a hint of genuine curiosity.

You looked around at the magical setting he'd created, at all the thoughtful details that spoke not just of love but of deep understanding. "Yes," you admitted. "Though don't expect me to start celebrating Groundhog Day anytime soon."

"Don't worry," Tim's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I already have plans for that involving quantum physics and weather pattern analysis."

You groaned, but squeezed his hand affectionately. Perhaps some holidays weren't so bad after all—especially when they were celebrated in such a distinctly Tim Drake fashion.

As the evening wore on, you shared stories over tea and finger sandwiches, Tim explaining the process behind each rabbit's creation ("Do you know how hard it is to preserve tea leaves in that shape? I had to consult three different botanical experts!") and you teasing him about using actual supervillain encounters as planning sessions ("I still can't believe you made Riddler critique your rhyme scheme").

The fairy lights twinkled overhead, their constellation patterns creating a map of significant moments in your relationship. Tim had thought of everything—even the tea selections told a story, from the strong coffee blend you'd shared on that first late night to the exotic varieties you'd discovered together over the years.

But you had one more surprise up your sleeve.

"Speaking of ridiculous planning," you said casually, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small flash drive. It was matte black, unmarked except for a tiny red robin etched into its surface.

Tim paused mid-sip, his eyes narrowing slightly at the device. "What's this?" He set his cup down and took the drive, turning it over in his hands with the careful attention he gave to all potential puzzles.

"You didn't seriously think I was going to just settle for second place in a holiday, did you?" You couldn't help but smirk. "Tay is a blabbermouth. You should know this by now. The moment she told me about your call, I knew I had to step up my game."

His eyes lit up with that particular spark that appeared whenever he encountered a new challenge. "Boot it up on your laptop," you suggested, trying not to look too pleased with yourself.

The two of you made your way into the Manor, leaving the magical garden setup behind. The halls were quiet—you suspected Alfred had ensured you'd have privacy for this elaborate Valentine's celebration. Tim led you to his study, a room that somehow managed to be both immaculately organized and completely chaotic, much like Tim's mind itself.

He settled into his chair, pulling his laptop from a drawer, and you positioned yourself behind him, resting your chin on top of his perpetually messy black hair. The familiar scent of his shampoo mixed with coffee and winter air wrapped around you as you watched him insert the drive.

Tim's fingers flew across the keyboard as he accessed the drive's contents, then stopped abruptly. His whole body went still in that way it did when his full attention had been captured by something particularly intriguing. On the screen before him were twelve heavily encrypted files, each one protected by a different type of encryption—some of which he recognized, others that appeared to be entirely custom.

"Your favorite," you murmured into his hair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "An actual challenge. Each file is encrypted with a different method, and each one contains a piece of a larger puzzle. Some of the encryption keys are based on our shared history, others will require actual detective work." You paused, unable to resist adding, "I may have consulted with Oracle on a few of them, just to make sure they were up to your standards."

Tim leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to look up at you with a mixture of surprise and delight. "You created an encryption-based scavenger hunt... for my scavenger hunt?"

"Mm-hmm," you confirmed. "Consider it your Valentine's Day gift—twelve puzzles that will actually challenge that big brain of yours. And before you ask, yes, I got Riddler's input on some of the riddles. He was surprisingly helpful once I explained I was trying to one-up you."

Tim's laugh echoed through the study. "I love you," he said, shaking his head. "You know that? Only you would respond to a citywide romantic scavenger hunt by creating an encrypted meta-puzzle."

"Well," you replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, "only you would turn Valentine's Day into an elaborate historical-literary-detective adventure just because I said I didn't like commercial holidays. I figured it was only fair to return the favor in our own particular style."

Tim was already turning back to his laptop, fingers hovering eagerly over the keyboard. "How long did this take you to set up?"

"Let's just say I haven't been actually working late all those nights this past month." You grinned. "Now, would you like a hint for the first encryption, or are you going to insist on solving it entirely on your own?"

"You know me better than that," Tim said, already pulling up his decryption programs. "But maybe save the hints for breakfast? Something tells me I'm going to be up all night with this."

"I counted on it," you replied, pulling up a second chair. "That's why I brought caffeine reserves. Happy Valentine's Day, Timothy."

The soft tapping of keys filled the study as Tim dove into your puzzle with characteristic enthusiasm, and you settled in to watch him work, content in the knowledge that you'd managed to surprise the World's Second Greatest Detective with a mystery of your own making.

.

.

.

Three days after Valentine's Day, the Batcave had become ground zero for Tim's increasing obsession with your final encrypted file. The previous eleven had fallen to his expertise within the first forty-eight hours—some taking mere minutes, others requiring a few hours of dedicated concentration. But this last one? This last one was driving him to the brink of madness.

"Master Timothy," Alfred observed from the cave's entrance, carefully balancing a tray of coffee and sandwiches, "perhaps a break would—"

"Can't break, Alfred," Tim muttered, pacing back and forth in front of the massive whiteboard he'd commandeered. "So close. Has to mean something."

The riddle was written across the board in Tim's increasingly frantic handwriting, repeated at least six times in different configurations:

'With his partner, Mr. Wright wasn't pleased

Although he would crack a smile whenever they farted and whenever they sneezed,

There was one tiny flaw that took away from their perfection

A small discrepancy that prevented a bigger connection

He thought about telling them, crafted his words, and took aim

Gathered all of his courage just to tell them.... he hated their [blank] [blank]'

"WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!" Tim suddenly exploded, throwing his hands up in frustration. His hair was sticking up in all directions from running his fingers through it repeatedly. "I don't hate anything about (Y/N)! Nothing! Zero things! This has to be wrong!"

Dick, who had been watching from his perch on the computer console with a mixture of amusement and concern, tried to intervene. "Maybe that's not the point of the—"

"No, no, there's something here," Tim cut him off, spinning back to the whiteboard. "The capitalization has to matter. Why is 'Wright' capitalized? Is it a reference to the Wright brothers? But what would aviation have to do with..."

"Drake," Damian's imperious voice cut through Tim's rambling as the youngest Wayne approached the whiteboard, eraser in hand. "I require this space for actual case work—"

Tim literally hissed at him, moving to physically block the board with his body. "Don't you dare! Not until I've figured out this stupid riddle!" His eyes were slightly wild, caffeine and determination creating a dangerous combination. "Touch this board and I will end you, demon spawn."

"Tt." Damian crossed his arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "You're being ridiculous. Over a Valentine's Day puzzle, no less."

"It's not just a puzzle," Tim protested, already darting back to the computer to review the previous eleven decoded files for the hundredth time. "It's... it's a challenge. From (Y/N). Who is absolutely brilliant and devious and..." He trailed off, scanning through lines of code with intense concentration.

"Totally played you," Jason finished, appearing from the shadows with his characteristic smirk. "Face it, Replacement. Your better half got you good."

"Not helping, Jason," Dick called out, though he was clearly fighting a smile.

Tim ignored them all, muttering to himself as he cross-referenced the previous solutions. "Nothing in files one through eleven indicates... no pattern in the encryption methods suggests... this is what I get for dating someone who's practically on par with me intellectually. They knew exactly how to..." He stopped suddenly, eyes widening. "Wait. Wright. WRIGHT. Not W-R-I-G-H-T but W-R-I-T-E?"

The cave fell silent as Tim's fingers flew across the keyboard with renewed purpose. Even Damian paused in his attempts to reclaim the whiteboard, watching his brother with reluctant curiosity.

"Write... writing... written?" Tim typed frantically, trying different variations. But the code remained stubbornly locked. Seven letters. He needed seven letters. "That's not it either! What the fuck!" He threw his arms up again, nearly knocking over his fifteenth cup of coffee.

"Language!" Dick chided automatically from his perch, though his grin suggested he was enjoying his little brother's descent into madness far too much.

A cheerful chime from the computer drew everyone's attention. A small animated version of you appeared in the corner of the screen—a chibi character complete with big eyes and an exaggerated smirk. It danced across his code, holding a sign that read "Need a hint? ♡"

Tim glared at the tiny digital version of you. "Away with you, foul temptress," he grumbled, jabbing at the keyboard to dismiss the hint system. The chibi just smiled wider and did a little spin.

"I can't believe they programmed a hint system with a chibi avatar," Jason snickered, leaning over Tim's shoulder to watch the animation. "That's both adorable and diabolical."

"Master Timothy," Alfred interjected, setting down a fresh cup of coffee and pointedly removing the empty ones, "perhaps if you accepted the hint—"

"No!" Tim protested, running both hands through his already chaotic hair. "No hints. I can figure this out. I have to figure this out. They spent a month creating this puzzle, I can't just—" He waved his hands frantically at the dancing chibi, which was now holding a sign that read "Your caffeine levels suggest you might need help! (◕‿◕✿)"

Damian, who had been watching this display with growing disdain, finally spoke up. "Drake, your pride is making you stupid. More stupid than usual, that is."

"Not helping, demon spawn," Tim muttered, but his eyes never left the screen. The chibi had started doing backflips across his code, each flip leaving a trail of sparkles that suspiciously highlighted certain letters in his previous attempts.

"Okay, okay, let me see this thing," Dick finally hopped down from his perch, moving to stand behind Tim. "Fresh eyes might help. The riddle's about someone named Wright—or write—who doesn't like something about their partner that's seven letters long..."

"Been there, tried that," Tim groaned, but shifted to let Dick see the screen better. "I've tried every seven-letter word I could think of that could possibly relate to our relationship."

Jason, now fully invested despite his earlier teasing, joined them at the computer. "What about their job? Their hobbies? Their—"

"Everything!" Tim threw his hands up. "I've tried everything! Their degree, their job, their favorite book genre, their coffee order—"

"Their coffee order isn't seven letters, Drake," Damian pointed out, having abandoned all pretense of not being interested.

"I KNOW THAT NOW!"

The chibi on screen did a particularly elaborate twirl, and a new hint bubble appeared: 'if seven letters are too hard try thinking of eight~♡♡'

"Eight?" all four brothers said in unison.

"But the blanks in the riddle..." Dick started.

"Clearly indicate two words..." Jason continued.

"Which should total seven letters..." Tim finished, slumping in his chair.

"Tt. You're all incompetent," Damian declared, shoving his way to the keyboard. He started typing rapidly, trying various eight-letter combinations.

Alfred, who had been quietly observing this whole scene, merely raised an eyebrow as he collected another round of empty coffee cups. "Perhaps, young masters, you might consider—"

"Not now, Alfred!" they chorused, all hunched over the keyboard as the chibi continued its merry dance across their failed attempts.

Even Bruce, who had entered the cave somewhere between Tim's fifteenth and sixteenth coffee, found himself drawn into the puzzle. He stood behind his sons, cowl pushed back, frowning at the riddle on the whiteboard.

"Have you considered—" he began.

"Yes," all four boys cut him off.

"What about—"

"Tried it."

"Maybe it's—"

"Nope."

The chibi version of you was now doing the macarena, trailing hearts and question marks in its wake. A new speech bubble appeared: 'Wow, the whole family's here! Still not getting warmer though! ╮(︶▽︶)╭'

"They're enjoying this way too much," Tim grumbled, but there was unmistakable fondness in his voice. "You all realize they're probably watching this through the cave's security feed, right?"

Four heads snapped up to look at the nearest camera. The chibi did a cheerful wave.

The sound of feminine giggling drew everyone's attention to the cave entrance. Cass and Stephanie stood there, both clearly trying—and failing—to maintain straight faces. Stephanie had her phone out, obviously recording the scene before her.

"Oh, don't mind us," Stephanie managed between poorly suppressed snickers. "Please, continue. This is gold."

Tim's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You know something."

Cass's smile was enigmatic as ever, but there was definite amusement in her eyes. She signed quickly, 'It's obvious.'

"If it's so obvious, care to share with the class?" Jason asked, crossing his arms.

Stephanie lost it completely then, doubling over with laughter. "Oh no, no way. (Y/N) swore us to secrecy. They said, and I quote, 'Let them suffer.'"

"They did well," Cass nodded approvingly, watching as the chibi on screen started doing the robot dance.

"Et tu, Cass?" Tim groaned, slumping further in his chair. "I thought you loved me."

"I do," Cass signed, her smile growing. "That's why this is funny."

A new hint bubble appeared above the dancing chibi: 'The girls know what's up! (｡♥‿♥｡)'

"Wait," Dick straightened up. "If Steph and Cass know..."

"Then it has to be something obvious we're all missing," Bruce finished, his detective instincts kicking in.

"Or something only people who weren't raised by the World's Greatest Detective would think of," Stephanie suggested innocently, still recording.

Tim squinted at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," Stephanie sing-songed, moving to perch on one of the cave's workbenches. "Just that sometimes the simplest answer is the right one. But please, keep trying to decrypt it like it's a message from the League of Assassins."

"I hate all of you," Tim declared, turning back to the computer. The chibi had started a conga line with multiple copies of itself across his screen.

'Simple is best! ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ' the hint bubble agreed.

The chibi suddenly stopped its conga line, popping up in the center of the screen with an exaggerated thinking pose. A new message bubble appeared:

'Not a hint don't worry! But if I was me I would have asked the people I knew wouldn't get involved in this for help or for something else. You've sorted out two. The last remains a mystery but hey are there. Always watching. ;P'

Tim's eyes widened. "People who wouldn't get involved... sorted out two..."

"Oh my god," Stephanie whispered to Cass, "I think he's finally getting it."

"Slow," Cass signed back with an affectionate smile.

"Wait," Dick leaned forward, squinting at the screen. "Always watching?"

"The cameras?" Jason suggested, glancing up at the cave's security system.

"No, no," Tim was muttering, pulling up the previous eleven decoded files again. "It's something about people who wouldn't get involved... who have we talked to about this? Oracle helped with some of the encryption, Riddler gave input on the riddles..."

"Don't forget Alfred's obvious disapproval of your caffeine intake," Damian pointed out dryly.

The chibi started doing backflips again, leaving a trail of sparkles that seemed to be trying to direct their attention somewhere specific. Tim was too focused on his screen to notice, but Bruce's eyes narrowed as he followed the pattern of the sparkles.

"Tim," Bruce started, but Stephanie's barely contained laughter cut him off.

"No, no, let him figure it out," she insisted, still recording. "This is just getting good."

Tim suddenly went very still, the kind of stillness that usually preceded a major breakthrough. His eyes slowly moved from the screen to where Alfred stood, calmly arranging a fresh pot of coffee on a nearby table.

"The monthly lunches," Tim breathed out. "You and (Y/N) have monthly lunches together."

Alfred's expression remained perfectly neutral, but there was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Indeed, Master Timothy. Your partner and I do enjoy our regular discussions about literature, history, and..." he paused meaningfully, "various other topics."

The chibi on screen started doing cartwheels of excitement.

"You know the answer," Tim accused, spinning his chair to face Alfred fully. "You've known this whole time!"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Master Timothy," Alfred replied, but his eyes were twinkling. "Though I must say, your partner's creativity with encryption methods is quite impressive. Almost as impressive as their ability to maintain composure during our last lunch while you were in the corner booth trying to decode the ninth file."

"I KNEW I saw them that day!" Tim exclaimed, jumping up from his chair. "You two were in on this together!"

"Tt. Of course Pennyworth knows," Damian crossed his arms. "They probably planned half of this over their pretentious tea meetings."

"Earl Grey is hardly pretentious, Master Damian," Alfred corrected mildly. "Though I must say, the Ceylon blend we had while discussing the final riddle was particularly excellent."

The chibi was now doing a victory dance, complete with tiny fireworks effects.

'Alfred appreciation squad! ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶' the hint bubble proclaimed.

"Alfred," Tim tried, putting on his best pleading expression. "My most favorite person in this entire family..."

"I believe, Master Timothy," Alfred cut him off smoothly, "that accepting a hint at this point would rather defeat the purpose of your partner's carefully crafted puzzle." He began gathering empty coffee cups onto his tray. "Though I will say, sometimes the answer is rather closer than one might think."

With that cryptic statement, Alfred turned and headed for the cave steps, leaving behind a chorus of groans and, in Tim's case, a dramatic slump back into his chair.

"That's it," Jason announced, shoving Tim's chair aside with one hand. "I can't take this anymore."

"Jason, no—!" Tim lunged for the keyboard, but he was too late.

Jason clicked the hint button with excessive force, prompting the chibi to do an excited spin before presenting a new message bubble:

'There's a spelling error in the Riddle. One letter should not be where it is. One letter. One.'

"YOU TRAITOR!" Tim shoved Jason away from the computer, but the damage was done. The chibi was now doing an enthusiastic spelling bee dance, complete with tiny letter blocks floating around it.

"You're welcome," Jason smirked, dodging Tim's attempt to strangle him. "Now maybe we can all go home sometime this year."

"I had it under control!"

"You really didn't," Dick chimed in, already scanning the riddle again with new eyes. "Okay, so one letter is wrong..."

"But which one?" Bruce muttered, moving closer to the whiteboard.

Stephanie was practically vibrating with contained laughter at this point, while Cass simply smiled her knowing smile.

The chibi started juggling alphabet blocks, occasionally dropping one with an exaggerated 'oops!' expression.

Tim had returned to the whiteboard, scanning each line with intense concentration. "One letter... one wrong letter... but which..."

"Perhaps," Damian suggested with exaggerated patience, "you should focus on the words that matter most in the riddle."

"All the words matter!" Tim protested, but his eyes were fixed on the final line. "Gathered all of his courage just to tell them.... he hated their [blank] [blank]"

Dick had gone oddly quiet, his eyes darting between the riddle and Tim's increasingly frantic expression. Then, without warning, he reached for the eraser.

"Dick, I swear to god if you—" Tim started, but froze as Dick deliberately erased just the 'W' in 'Mr. Wright.'

The cave went silent.

The chibi on screen started doing enthusiastic cheerleader moves with tiny pom-poms.

"Mr... Right," Tim said slowly, then louder, "Mr. RIGHT!"

"FINALLY!" Stephanie threw her hands up, nearly dropping her phone. "I thought we were going to be here until next Valentine's Day!"

Cass was signing rapidly, 'Now he sees.'

"Wait," Jason leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. "If it's Mr. Right, and the blanks need eight letters total..."

Tim was already typing frantically. "Last name... last name... what's wrong with their last name?" His fingers paused over the keyboard. "Eight letters..."

The chibi had produced a tiny banner that read 'So close! SO CLOSE!'

Bruce, who had been watching this entire scene unfold with what might have been amusement (it was sometimes hard to tell with him), finally spoke up. "Tim, what's your last name?"

"That doesn't make sense," Tim huffed in frustration, "my last name is five letters. D-R-A-K-E." He wrote it out on the whiteboard, underlining each letter for emphasis.

The chibi suddenly produced a tiny professor's cap and glasses, pulling down a mathematical chart. A new equation appeared:

'5+7=8!! And you've only figured out you need seven letters. Not how many characters you need. ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ'

Stephanie was practically crying with laughter at this point. "Oh my god, this is the best thing I've ever recorded. The look on his face right now..."

"Wait," Dick moved closer to the whiteboard, looking between the equation and Tim's written name. "Five plus seven equals eight... that's not..."

"Mathematics appears to have escaped all of you," Damian sneered, though he was eyeing the equation with growing interest.

"Shut up, demon spawn, I'm thinking," Tim muttered, staring at his last name on the board. "Five letters plus seven letters somehow equals eight... but that's not mathematically possible unless..."

The chibi had started drawing something in the air with a sparkly pen, but kept erasing it before anyone could read it properly.

Jason, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly straightened up. "Holy shit," he whispered, then started laughing. "Holy shit, replacement, you're an idiot."

"What? What am I missing?" Tim spun to face him, but Jason just shook his head, now laughing too hard to speak.

Then Jason straightened up, addressing the chibi directly. "Seven letters, right?"

The chibi nodded enthusiastically, releasing tiny explosions of confetti.

"And I'm guessing eight characters?"

More vigorous nodding, the chibi now practically bouncing with excitement.

"So," Jason's grin grew wider, "there's a space somewhere. The password isn't actually an answer, is it? It's a question."

The chibi erupted into a full celebration mode, throwing confetti everywhere and doing backflips while tiny fireworks exploded across the screen.

"A question?" Tim repeated slowly, then his eyes went wide. "A question... about my last name... seven letters but eight characters..."

Stephanie had given up trying to hold the phone steady, she was laughing so hard. "Oh my god, he's actually getting it."

"Finally," Cass signed, smiling broadly.

"Drake," Damian said with exaggerated patience, "what might someone ask about your last name that would require seven letters and a space?"

Dick's face split into a huge grin as he caught on. "Oh. Oh that's good. That's really good."

Bruce had actually cracked a smile, which in Bruce-terms was practically rolling on the floor laughing.

Tim stared at his last name written on the whiteboard, then at the riddle about Mr. Right, then back at his name. The chibi was now holding up a tiny sign with a question mark on it, bouncing it up and down suggestively.

Suddenly, Tim shoved everyone away from the computer with such force that Jason nearly toppled into Dick. His fingers flew across the keyboard: M-A-R-R-Y-M-E.

The file lock clicked open with a satisfying digital chime. The chibi threw up its tiny arms in victory before dissolving into a shower of hearts.

The screen filled with photos, cycling through like a slideshow: Tim and you in the university library during that first heated AI debate, both of you gesturing passionately; a candid shot from the coffee shop where you'd first really talked, Tim's eyes bright with caffeine and interest as you explained your thesis; the two of you at a Wayne gala, you rolling your eyes at something while Tim tried not to laugh; a series of pictures from various puzzle nights and study sessions that had slowly transformed into dates; the first picture of you both after Tim revealed his identity as Red Robin, you looking utterly unfazed while pointing out the flaws in his attempt to throw you off the trail; countless moments of your shared life together, each one flowing into the next.

Then the photos faded into video footage. It showed Tim from just the night before, sprawled across his bed, completely passed out from his puzzle-solving attempts. He was drooling slightly on his pillow, his hair a chaotic mess, looking absolutely nothing like the composed CEO he presented to the world.

You appeared in frame, pressing a finger to your lips in a conspiratorial gesture to the camera. In your other hand was a red velvet box. You tiptoed to Tim's jacket—the same one currently thrown over the back of his chair in the cave—and carefully slipped a golden band into the pocket.

The video faded to black, and text appeared on screen:

'This one is a click choice: Yes or No'

The cave had gone completely silent. Even Stephanie had stopped laughing, her phone still recording but forgotten in her hand.

Tim slowly reached for his jacket, his hand shaking slightly as it dipped into the pocket. The ring caught the cave's lighting as he pulled it out, simple and elegant and perfectly sized for his finger.

The chibi reappeared on screen, now wearing a tiny tuxedo and holding what appeared to be wedding bells, waiting patiently for input.

Tim's hand was trembling slightly as he slipped the ring onto his finger—a perfect fit. Through vision that was definitely not blurring with tears, he clicked 'Yes.'

The screen immediately filled with your face, beaming with triumphant joy. "I know you love those 'how it's made' videos so... here's mine! This actually has taken me the better part of a year to make. It is shockingly difficult to write code while having emotional moments, so I had a little help." Your grin turned mischievous. "Actually, everyone around you had a part. Oh yeah. They are all traitors who have been lying about not knowing the answer."

Tim spun in his chair to face his family, who were all wearing varying degrees of satisfied smiles.

"Jason helped pick out the riddles with me," you continued, and Jason gave an exaggerated bow. "The Mr. Wright one was his favorite."

"Because it was genius," Jason confirmed, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Dick did distraction on you, kept you busy these last few months."

"All those 'emergency' training sessions?" Dick grinned. "Not so emergency after all."

"Damian did the part of figuring out your ring size, without cutting off your finger—it was a hard talk down."

"Tt. Your hands move too much when you sleep, Drake," Damian commented, though he looked slightly proud.

"Stephanie and Cass helped be moral support."

"And recorded everything for posterity!" Stephanie added, still filming.

"And of course," your voice softened slightly, "I had to ask Bruce and Alfred both for permission."

Bruce's hand came to rest on Tim's shoulder, squeezing gently. Alfred, who had mysteriously reappeared in the cave, was definitely dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief.

"I even got Conner and Bart to help out with keeping you later at boys nights so I could finish up the code on these."

Tim let out a watery laugh. "That's why they kept insisting on 'one more round' of everything?"

The chibi had returned, now joined by tiny digital versions of the entire family, all doing a celebration dance.

"You all knew," Tim accused, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face. "This entire time, you all knew."

"Master Timothy," Alfred said warmly, "some mysteries are worth waiting to solve."

The screen flickered, and your voice took on a more serious tone. "Now that little me has gotten her celebration over with, I'm sure congratulations can wait for the moment. I ask that everyone other than Tim leave the room. Including the cameras. As much as blackmail sounds funny and all, this part is the important one and it's private."

Your leg had started bouncing in the video—a nervous tell Tim knew well. The family exchanged knowing looks and began filing out. Stephanie finally lowered her phone, giving Tim a quick kiss on the cheek before following the others. Bruce was the last to leave, pausing only to squeeze Tim's shoulder once more before heading up the cave steps.

The cameras' red lights blinked off one by one.

Only then did you smile softly at the camera, and Tim's heart caught at the vulnerability in your expression. "I've never been one to be sugary. Pet names are not my thing, I'm not one for flowers or chocolates, I'm not a normal partner and you made me feel okay in that and seen." You paused, taking a steadying breath. "But if you're seeing this part of the video, it means you clicked yes. I had to prerecord this otherwise I'd be a crying mess right now. Which is less than needed for this."

Tim leaned forward in his chair, his new ring catching the light as he reached out to touch the screen where your face was displayed. The cave was completely silent now except for your voice and the soft hum of the computer.

You took a deep inhale before letting it out slowly, your eyes fixed on the camera as if you could see Tim watching. "The times we have spent together over the years have been some of the best moments of my life. From the camping trip that ended in a spider-infested tent to late night binge sessions of that stupid detective show that's not even in English that we both hate to love."

A soft laugh escaped Tim as he remembered that camping trip—how you'd maintained your analytical calm even while helping him evacuate the tent, cataloging each spider species you encountered.

"You have never once made me feel odd or unloved and I hope I made you feel the same even if it's difficult for me to articulate." Your voice grew softer, more intense. "You are my person and I don't put that lightly. In a universe filled with millions upon millions of atoms, I'm so glad that mine have gotten to know yours."

Tim's vision blurred again, but he didn't try to wipe away the tears this time.

"And although I don't believe in marriage as I told you when we first met," you continued with a slight smile, "I'd rather die of radiation poisoning from sleeping next to you for the rest of our lives than never have gotten the opportunity." Your own eyes were getting watery now, despite your earlier claim about pre-recording to avoid crying. "You are my missing piece, Timothy. I love you. And I'm so excited to see where this new ring-sized door leads."

The chibi appeared one final time, offering a tiny tissue to the screen before fading away with a gentle shower of hearts.

Tim sat in the quiet of the cave, his finger tracing the band of his ring, a smile spreading across his face despite the tears. Trust you to propose with encrypted files, riddles, and a speech that referenced both quantum physics and your shared hatred of pretentious foreign detective shows.

He reached for his phone, knowing exactly where you'd be waiting.

"Hi future husband," you answered on the first ring, making Tim bark out a watery laugh.

"You. Suck. You know that?" He responded, voice thick with emotion. "You beat me to the punch!"

"Huh?"

"Check my bedside drawer."

There was a pause, then the sound of movement on your end. Tim could perfectly picture you crossing your shared bedroom to his side of the bed. The drawer squeaked slightly as you opened it—he'd been meaning to fix that.

Then silence.

"Timothy Jackson Drake," your voice came back, slightly strangled. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Third drawer back, behind my spare laptop charger," Tim confirmed, unable to keep the grin off his face despite his tears. "I've been carrying it around for two months trying to figure out the perfect way to ask. I had this whole plan involving that quantum physics conference next month and the observatory and—" He broke off with a laugh. "And you just completely outmaneuvered me with probably the most elaborate proposal in history."

The sound of a box opening came through the phone, followed by your sharp intake of breath. "You got me a titanium ring."

"With a carbon fiber inlay," Tim added. "Because you said traditional jewelry metals weren't practical for someone who works with chemicals regularly. I had it custom made to be acid-resistant."

A choked laugh came through the phone. "We really are perfect for each other, aren't we?"

"Well," Tim smiled, looking down at his own ring, "I did just click 'yes' to spending the rest of my life with you, so I'd say so." He paused, then added, "Though I have to know—what would the chibi have done if I'd clicked 'no'?"

"Bold of you to assume I programmed that as an option," you replied, and Tim could hear your smile. "The 'no' button was just for show. It would have rick-rolled you and then asked again."

Tim laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the empty cave. "I love you so much. You know that?"

"I love you too," you replied softly. "Now come home so I can see how that ring looks on you in person. And maybe you can tell me more about this quantum physics conference proposal plan that I completely derailed."

"On my way," Tim said, already heading for his motorcycle. Then he paused. "Wait—do we have to tell the family they can come back into the cave now, or..."

"Oh, they've definitely been watching on the backup cameras that I didn't have access to shut off," you said matter-of-factly. "Hi everyone! Sorry for the emotional display!"

Distant cheering could be heard from the upper levels of the cave, confirming your theory.

"Typical," Tim sighed fondly, but he couldn't stop smiling. "See you in ten minutes?"

"Make it five," you countered. "I think we have some celebrating to do before Alfred inevitably appears with engagement cake."

"It's probably already baking," Tim agreed, swinging onto his bike. "Love you, future spouse."

Your laugh was the last thing he heard before ending the call, and it carried him all the way home.

.

.

.

[ribbeoms]

「 azure dreams , midnight tales 」

-> featuring, barista!soobin x gn!student!reader

-> w/c ; 1.9k || no warnings

sypnosis : 「 you, an insomniac who finds solace in your late-night conversations with soobin, the barista at a 24-hour cafe. over time, you realizes that soobin’s soft voice and calming presence feel like a dream come true, even during your sleepless nights. but as the midnight talks deepen, so do your feelings, leaving you wondering if this connection is too perfect to last past sunrise. 」

part of the blue-kissed moments masterlist ! pls feel free to check the other fics ^^

[m.list]

a/n : my first soobin fic !! happy birthday my angel

university is the worst.

no, scratch that. being a broke university student is the worse. juggling day-to-day expenses alongside payments of school materials and dorm rent, and the additional stress of the classes and exams? nothing could've prepared you for how grueling the first semester would be. with a sigh, you stumble into a cafe, the bells ringing overhead as your eyes tried to adjust to the warm lights radiated by the decorations lining the homely appearance of the cafe. thank god for 24 hour cafes, you can finally get a (un)healthy dose of caffeine at midnight to fuel your night owl study sessions.

there was only one other person in the small cafe. the barista, head turning up from his phone to glance upon the newcomer into the cafe. he flashed a warm smile as his lithe hands placed his phone down. he turns to greet you, his tussled hair framing his eyes perfectly with a warm, boyfriend look to him.

"welcome to azure dreams cafe. you look awfully tired, what drink can i get you?" the honeyed tone of the barista's voice warms you, it's been so long since anybody has treated you with the bare bones of respect. "sorry for coming in so late.. are americanos available? i just need the energy." you responded, running your hand through your hair as the other clutches your book bag. "it's no problem at all. i understand how you feel, so just take a seat there. feel free to listen to music or take a nap, whatever you need." he hummed, before turning away further into the cafe, where a soft hum of machinery slowly filled the quiet atmosphere.

you caught a glimpse of his nametag ─ choi soobin.

₊˚ʚ

"oh, you're back."

soobin tilted his head, lips pursed as he studies your hunched frame. "sorry, soobin. you keep having to make americanos at midnight for me." you placed your bag down at the cafe lounge chair, easily sliding into the booth. it's been a week of visiting this cafe, a week of talking to the barista, a week of receiving endless amounts of help and feedback on your work. soobin, your eternal saviour, your light at the end of the tunnel, your guardian angel. multiple times has he lent a helping hand to you, allowing you to swiftly complete your work and improving on the essays and projects that you've been pulling all nighters (and your hair) for.

"why're you so willing to help me?" the question slipped out, your eyes boring into soobin's back as he closely monitors the coffee beans. "well," he mused, a small smile playing on his lips. "everyone deserves a little help sometimes. even if they're extremely sleep deprived. i see .. myself in you, i guess." soobin shoved his hands into his apron pockets, leaning against the cover, back still facing you. you leaned your head against the table, mulling over his words. he.. sees himself in you? what does that mean? your thoughts echoed through your head, ricocheting off each other.

"hey, stop thinking about it so much," soobin suddenly appeared, placing your americano before you. he leaned forward, upper body against your table. "i know that university work's tough, but i promise you, you'll always find solace here, alright? i'll be here every night. i know you're worried about many things, but my presence will not be one of them." soobin gently carresses your fingers, before casting you a soft smile. "i promise you."

butterflies erupted in your stomach, as you feel your face grow hotter. "t..thank you.." you managed to stutter out, looking down at your unfinished work, a little flustered from the sudden burst of affection from the midnight barista. you grabbed the coffee cup, before collecting yourself. was that.. was that a confession..?

₊˚ʚ

"y'know, i admire your consistency." soobin suddenly speaks, thus dragging your attention onto him. your eyebrows furrowed, confused. "consistency? like.. my school work? i haven't showed you my results before though.." you mumbled out, brain still trying to catch up on the horrendously low number of hours of sleep you managed to catch that week. soobin giggled, looking at you with a .. weird emotion in his eyes. "no, silly. your consistency in managing to come here every midnight. it's been three weeks, and you've never missed a day." you pursed your lips, before realisation dawned on you ─ has it really been three weeks? you flashed a small embarrassed smile, eyes turning back to your computer.

soobin's memory is immaculate. remembering the exact preferences you had for decoration suggestions you sometimes gave, and memorising the exact timing on how long you loved for the coffee beans to roast. his knowledge is expanse too, almost as if he dabbled in everything before. what soobin is oblivious to, however, is the fact that on your phone, you have a little alarm to wake you up everyday to head to the cafe. so no matter what, you were determined to enter the cafe at twelve midnight. what was the reason behind this? honestly, you're not sure yourself (yet). all you know is that you're dead-set in seeing soobin's smile everyday.

suddenly, a ringtone rang out. "oh, excuse me." soobin got up from the sofa across you, before heading into the back of the cafe to handle the call. "huh? a phone call at 1am? especially from dialing the cafe number?" your fingers twirled with your pen, neck straining as you tried your best to hear the phone call. unfortunately, only bits and pieces of information entered your ears. "close down.... rent......two days."

your heart sank. soobin's lanky figure emerged from the room, face clearly distressed. when his eyes landed on you, he seemed to get even more anxious, fingers twiddling with the hem of his shirt, akin to a child feeling extremly guilty. he opened his mouth as if to say something, before closing it again. you patted the seat next to you, a silent invitation. a reassurance.

"so... the cafe is in a bit of a financial crisis as of right now.." soobin looked down at the table, eyes not daring to meet yours. he continued, " 'cause of lack of customers, and the expenses of the ingredients and rent... the owner said that it would be best to shut this cafe down for good." soobin sighed, broad shoulders sinking into his shirt, making it look too big on soobin. you didn't like that. you didn't like your soobin looking so small and fragile.

"all good things must come to an end one day," you gave a small smile, your palm unfolding over soobin's closed fist. "i don't want our nights to end." a small confession muttered from his lips. "i don't want our nights to end too, soobin. this .. all this means so much to me. so, so much." you looked away, gazing at the twinkling stars in the distance. your hand feels heavy against soobin's, but your heart weighs heavier. the truth is, having these nights end scare you to no end. "but.. we'll figure a way out, right? like we always have." you offered a small semblance of hope, an open question hanging.

empty confessions fill the air. a choked sob escapes soobin. your heart aches as you pull him towards your shoulder, allowing for a place of comfort, no matter how small. a place of solace for him, showing that there was never any doubt for your presence in his life as well. you mirror his sentiments as you pulled him against you tighter, hands rubbing his forearm as he cries into your shoulder.

a warm tear glided down your cheek.

₊˚ʚ

you huffed, melachonly settling uncomfortably into your stomach. the bells above your head chimed one last time, as you enter the cafe. your sneakers step onto the furnished hardwood, as the warm lights embrace you. there, behind the counter, soobin stood. just like that night three weeks ago, he was there. always, with a cup of americano ready. "i never took you to the rooftop before, right?" you shook your head, your curiosity piqued at the mention of the roof. was it even allowed? soobin snapped you out of your thoughts, waving a hand in front of you.

"you're not scared of heights, are you..?" soobin question, his grasp on your wrist loosening as he led you up the staircase. "a little late for that, no?" you giggled, trailing closely behind soobin. "oh.. true.." he mumbled, blinking a bit. he chuckled, hand reaching for the doorknob towards the roof. "i like to come up here after my shifts. it.. relaxes the mind, y'know? makes it feel like-" "it's all going to be alright." you completed his sentence, your eyes gazing into his own. "yeah.. exactly." he huffed, letting a small laugh out.

once both of you are settled onto the roof, a thick silence envelops the air. you leaned your head onto soobin's shoulder, huddling closer towards him, as if this is your last chance to ever see him. he wrapped his arm around you, head turned up towards the two twinkling stars in the sky. "i never told you this, but.. i used to hate working the midnight shift." soobin starts off, hesistant in continuing. you faced him, urging him to finish his train of thought. "it wasn't a very nice time to work, haha.. i mean, midnight isn't usually the time when people would come into a cafe, so most days were dull." you hummed, leaning further into him.

"until you started visiting." you laughed, "you're only saying that to make me happy." "no no, i'm serious!" soobin frantically waved his hand, heart-shaped lips forming a pout. "i mean it, really. you've.. changed my life in more ways than i expected. i thought you were just going to be a one-time customer, but you kept visiting. kept accompanying me." he barely whispers out the last part, his breath fanning into the cold air. "it's sweet. i look forward to it everyday." a small red tint appears on soobin's ears, as he looks down in embarrassment.

you tightened your grip around his arm, giggling in silence. "i have a confession too. i set an alarm on my phone, reminding me everyday to walk over to your cafe at midnight. that's what explains my consistency, it's because i want to see you. everyday." your voice becomes smaller as you continued. "i guess what i'm saying is that.. i like you." you confessed, burying your face into his arm.

soobin lifted your face, before leaning in, pressing his lips onto yours. you swear you could feel fireworks explode as your heart pumps in such a familiar rhythm that you can't help the nostalgic feeling that settles in your chest. "soo-bin", it pumps, and it keeps on pumping, the blood flowing through your body a reminder of how your love for him flows through you, almost naturally. you closed your eyes, pressing deeper into the kiss.

soobin pulled away, chest heaving. expectant eyes gaze upon you, his hair messed up, much like the day you two met. "i guess midnights will always belong to us." he said breathlessly.

"always."

₊˚ʚ

"you'll really be working here, right?" soobin asked for what seemed like the sixtieth time today. "yes, binnie. as long as you’re here." he hummed in sastifaction at your reply, cuddling further into your chest.

“wait, angel.” you softly nudged him away, smoothening your clothes over as you put on your customary smile. “welcome to azure dreams, what can i get you?” your fingers hovered over the display, but something else is hovering behind you as well. soobin gazes at you from behind, pouting as you politely handle the customer. turns out, the only reason why azure dreams “fell out of business” is because soobin, your dearest, cutest boyfriend forgot to flip the “open/close” sign every time he opened the cafe. the only reason why you managed to meet him two months ago was because you were too tired to even notice the sign..

“i didn’t know you were so good at handling other people but suddenly able to push your boyfriend away. it’s like you don’t care about me at all.. am i not the one who secured you a good schedule and a job? you just threw me to one side like i mean nothing. and to think you confessed to sweetly on that very rooftop! so this is how younger people treat their elders nowadays-” soobin keeps on talking in the back of the kitchen, lips moving at a speed you can’t even read. you lunged forward, catching his lips in a kiss. a deep blush rose to soobin’s face, eyes widening as his hands flutter about as he can’t even seem to find a proper place to put it. on the counter or on your waist?! what if his colleagues walk in..! before he can even finish contemplating, you pull yourself away from him. “you talk a lot, baby.” you teased, before bouncing away to actually do your job.

soobin touched his lips, eyes trailing your figure as you worked. god, he’s so whipped.

₊˚ʚ 🌌 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ 🌀 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ❄️ ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ 🌫 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ

@studiogyu @daddldee

[commodorez]

If the Commodore 64 is great, where is the Commodore 65?

It sits in the pile with the rest of history's pre-production computers that never made it. It's been awhile since I went on a Commodore 65 rant...

The successor to the C64 is the C128, arguably the pinnacle of 8-bit computers. It has 3 modes: native C128 mode with 2MHz 8502, backwards compatible C64 mode, and CP/M mode using a 4MHz Z80. Dual video output in 40-column mode with sprites plus a second output in 80-column mode. Feature-rich BASIC, built in ROM monitor, numpad, 128K of RAM, and of course a SID chip. For 1985, it was one of the last hurrahs of 8-bit computing that wasn't meant to be a budget/bargain bin option.

For the Amiga was taking center stage at Commodore -- the 16-bit age is here! And its initial market performance wasn't great, they were having a hard time selling its advanced capabilities. The Amiga platform took time to really build up momentum square in the face of the rising dominance of the IBM PC compatible. And the Amiga lost (don't tell the hardcore Amiga fanboys, they're still in denial).

However, before Commodore went bankrupt in '94, someone planned and designed another successor to the C64. It was supposed to be backwards compatible with C64, while also evolving on that lineage, moving to a CSG 4510 R3 at 3.54MHz (a fancy CMOS 6502 variant based on a subprocessor out of an Amiga serial port card). 128K of RAM (again) supposedly expandable to 1MB, 256X more colors, higher resolution, integrated 3½" floppy not unlike the 1581. Bitplane modes, DAT modes, Blitter modes -- all stuff that at one time was a big deal for rapid graphics operations, but nothing that an Amiga couldn't already do (if you're a C65 expert who isn't mad at me yet, feel free to correct me here).

The problem is that nobody wanted this.

Sure, Apple had released the IIgs in 1986, but that had both the backwards compatibility of an Apple II and a 16-bit 65C816 processor -- not some half-baked 6502 on gas station pills. Plus, by the time the C65 was in heavy development it was 1991. Way too late for the rapidly evolving landscape of the consumer computer market. It would be cancelled later that same year.

I realize that Commodore was also still selling the C64 well into 1994 when they closed up shop, but that was more of a desperation measure to keep cash flowing, even if it was way behind the curve by that point (remember, when the C64 was new it was a powerful, affordable machine for 1982). It was free money on an established product that was cheap to make, whereas the C65 would have been this new and expensive machine to produce and sell that would have been obsolete from the first day it hit store shelves. Never mind the dismal state of Commodore's marketing team post-Tramiel.

Internally, the guy working on the C65 was someone off in the corner who didn't work well with others while 3rd generation Amiga development was underway. The other engineers didn't have much faith in the idea.

The C65 has acquired a hype of "the machine that totally would have saved Commodore, guise!!!!1!11!!!111" -- saved nothing. If you want better what-if's from Commodore, you need to look to the C900 series UNIX machine, or the CLCD. Unlike those machines which only have a handful of surviving examples (like 3 or 4 CLCDs?), the C65 had several hundred, possibly as many as 2000 pre-production units made and sent out to software development houses. However many got out there, no software appears to have surfaced, and only a handful of complete examples of a C65 have entered the hands of collectors. Meaning if you have one, it's probably buggy and you have no software to run on it. Thus, what experience are you recapturing? Vaporware?

The myth of the C65 and what could have been persists nonetheless. I'm aware of 3 modern projects that have tried to take the throne from the Commodore 64, doing many things that sound similar to the Commodore 65.

The Foenix Retro Systems F256K:

The 8-Bit Guy's Commander X16

The MEGA65 (not my picture)

The last of which is an incredibly faithful open-source visual copy of the C65, where as the other projects are one-off's by dedicated individuals (and when referring to the X16, I don't mean David Murray as he's not the one doing the major design work).

I don't mean to belittle the effort people have put forth into such complicated projects, it's just not what I would have built. In 2019, I had the opportunity to meet the 8-Bit Guy and see the early X16 prototype. I didn't really see the appeal, and neither did David see the appeal of my homebrew, the Cactus.

Build your own computer, build a replica computer. I encourage you to build what you want, it can be a rewarding experience. Just remember that the C65 was probably never going to dig Commodore out of the financial hole they had dug for themselves.

[thewritetofreespeech]

hello! how do the obey me boys(brothers) say "i love you" w/out saying i love you?

Obey me boys + secret ways to say 'I love you'

Lucifer

Let’s you into his space, but also gives you space. His whole life is monitoring his brothers to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, or make sure Diavolo’s crazy plans work out. He says “I love you” by letting you go about it on your own because he trusts you.

Mammon

Buying you things. Obviously as the Avatar of Greed this is a little on the nose, but Mammon takes a lot of pride & care in the gifts he gives you. They start our as just expensive, elaborate gifts but eventually morph into very thoughtful, personal gifts he’s picked up on by paying attention over time. Anything you can wear and think of him with is his favorite type of gift.

Levi

Sharing his interests. Otakus are very protective and into their interests. He shares them with you because he wants to bond and also having something to share together. He also says “I love you” by taking an interest in your hobbies, even if they are normie ones.

Satan

Helping you work through problems. Whether they are real problems (like moving a desk or finishing a school project) or an emotional one, Satan is always there to help you through it. He provides you with his patience & understanding, a great feat for the Avatar of Wrath. Making sure that the problem is solved so you don’t have to shoulder the burden on your own.

Asmo

Shows that he loves you through self-care. He wants to make sure you are taken care of mentally, physically, and emotionally. He checks in a lot to make sure you are taking care of yourself and also gives you little gifts like face masks & candles to relax. Despite being a very social, almost emotionally needy person, Asmo also gives you space when you need it.

Beel

Beel is a very hands on person, so the #1 way he shows that he loves you is through acts of service. He’ll take up your chores when you pull the more physically demanding ones around the house. Help you pick up your room. Carries the groceries for you. It makes him feel useful and also makes sure you don’t have too much on your plate, which gives you more time to spend together.

Belphie

Giving you his time. Quality time is pretty special to Belphie. He really only spends quality time with his brothers. The rest of the time he is sleeping or in his own world. With you he makes the effort to spend time with you, doing the things that you like to do, and things you can share together. He will even adjust his sleep schedule if you have plans, making sure you have as much time as possible together.

[freebooter4ever]

It took me a minute to decide how to respond, but anon: i respect you coming onto my blog to talk about your own personal experiences -but that's exactly what it is: your own personal experience. From what i have seen of all my close friends who have come to talk to me about their experiences with auto immune disorders, or POTS, or GI issues, we all have different reactions and treatments that worked or didn't work.

I am extremely sorry that you did not have enough money for the expensive testing to tell you what physical part of your body was failing you. However, I did, and I know now that none of this was or is 'in my head'. And I do not appreciate a random stranger insinuating that it is and I will not publish that kind of talk for others who are experiencing what I have. I get enough blame for my chronic illness from friends and family who i love. I put up with it or gently push back on their beliefs that this is in my head for the sake of those close relationships. I do not know you anon, so I feel no need to do that here.

This illness has debilitated me for three months at a time in July when my life was finally headed in an exciting direction - I had two job prospects, I was stepping back into a volunteering role, and I had been invited by an old friend onto a project with a major animation company. I lost all that because of this. So don't fucking belittle me and tell me it's all in my head and trauma or anxiety that destroyed my gut. It was literally a combination of a virus, bacteria, and POTS, in addition to whatever the doctors haven't found yet.

Blaming women's problems on 'anxiety' is dangerous. If the doctors in the ER had done their job, if the 'healthcare' I have did it's job, I would have immediately gone to a cardiologist back when this started in July and a heart monitor would quickly have told the doctor that I have POTS. If I had gotten to go to a GI specialist immediately, instead of the ER telling me twice that its 'anxiety' and refusing to give me a referral, I would have had a breath test months ago proving the bacteria and excessive gas. Who knows how much time I could have saved, or if I would have reached such a debilitating state where I could barely walk for a good few weeks there, if I had actually gotten proper health care and doctors fucking listened to me saying that something was happening with my body physically that did not feel right.

So, anon, I'm sorry the system failed you but its up to you not to perpetuate that.