#traffic signal design

[floweryred]

Grian (and Jimmy’s) Guardian Angel task was so perfect for sillies and angst. It was the best task of the series. It was objectively entertaining, but also had some incredible moments:

-“I’ll never forgive him!” (Etho accidentally ranking Jimmy last in front of Jimmy) -75% Silly, 25% angst.

-“The leaves are all pointing upwards.” (Grian trying to say the most out of pocket thing he can- 95% Silly, 5% angst.

-“Ask Cleo to do the zombie dance.” (And continue to not elaborate on what that was)-95% Silly, 5% angst.

-“Tell him that Yoshi sucks” (Pooing on Etho’s favorite character)- 90% Silly, 10% angst

-“Bark at Martyn.” (Telling Grian to go bark at Martyn like Jimmy used to) -75% Silly, 25% angst.

-—-“I think he got excited when you barked at him…I think he did. I could tell.” (Jimmy trying to convince himself that Martyn was actually excited to be reminded of that stupid barking thing) -25% silly, 75% angst.

-“Grian, look behind you.” (Ratting out his old ally) (Desperately trying to not get Grian to reroll) -30% Silly, 70% angst.

The task in general is sort of sad, especially because Grian was NOT happy about it. Jimmy enthusiastically interacting with Grian, who is only listening to him because he is forced to. Grian goes to the nether to escape him and holds his ability to reroll over Jimmy’s head the whole time. Jimmy can’t use Grian to talk to anyone outside of commanding him to bark, because Grian is not allowed to let on to the fact Jimmy is there.

Still, they are so silly, and it’s so genuinely entertaining to watch. There are so many moments I didn’t put the the post because you’ve already seen it. If you haven’t, I highly encourage you to go watch it from either perspective. I prefer Jimmy’s because he uses a face cam and he looks so silly the whole time. But either one is golden.

Also congrats, Mr. Solidarity, on not getting out first.

[drsilasaslan]

Cloudy Urban Tangles in Zürich An urban street scene features crisscrossing power lines and a minimalist lamppost, all under a muted gray sky. The mood is somber and reflective, capturing a solitary moment in the city.

[mephestopheles]

Hey crocheters, can you spread this around to let some designers know about this site. I hate linking to it directly but it's necessary for folks. I found at least one pattern by the designer LyraLune Designs and many more that with a quick google I could tell was definitely stolen and reposted.

I know it's really hard to get these kinds of things taken down, but the site isn't even trying to hide what it's doing, the photos used are definitely the designers product photos and in process photos.

I do not know all of the designers to even start letting them know, but maybe if this gets around more designers together will have more luck getting their stuff removed.

This started because I found a photo on Pinterest of a pattern I'd just purchased, but it didn't link to the creator, so I started hunting. Apparently if you're not the designer or the holder of the copyright you can't claim a pin is breaking copyright.

Also there's a free amigurumi blog that posts a lot of pins to Pinterest and uses the same scraped images from designers. The only caveat is that this person has some decency to only repost actually free patterns. They're still posting the whole thing and taking clicks and interest from the creator but they are attributing and linking to the creator in the post.

The really pissy thing about that site is that the "other pattern ideas" are clearly AI generated crochet photos, but that is a rant for another day.

[goddamnitmahtin]

Danny’s Designer Friend

Okay so hear me out. Danny jumps universes a lot right? It’s a part of running errands for Clockwork. He may be the Ghost king but since he was Clockwork’s mentee at the same time, he had to run time errands sometimes. It took him to some really interesting places.

Some places had magic, some didn’t. Some had heroes that used their own devices and some had heroes that used magical artifacts to manifest abilities. Some didn’t have heroes at all. Some universes had lots of technology and some were working to catch up. And obviously, Danny had his favorites. And he had his favorite people from each.

So…. Danny had an idea.

…

Bruce looked around suspiciously, alert to any dangers that may be in the area. He and all of his children were on duty when all of a sudden he ended up in a modern mansion of sorts with an indoor waterfall.

“What in the world-?” He heard Tim say as Red Robin appeared as well.

“Oi-!” from a surprised Spoiler as she appeared.

Sword slashing noises as Robin appeared, apparently trying to slice the air, “What is this trickery!”

Next Duke in his pajamas and Nightwing appeared, landing on top of one another. “Get your sweaty ass off me,” Bruce heard his son say as he pushed his older brother off of him.

“GUYS!” Oracle called as she fell. She had teleported in but her chair didn’t seem to have come with her. Red Robin and Spoiler caught her just in time.

Orphan appeared silently.

Then Oracle’s wheelchair popped in, dropping onto Signal just as he had stood up. “Oh come on!” he exclaimed as a post it note apology appeared on his forehead. Presumably for forgetting the chair.

Lastly, Red Hood appeared, guns out and ready to fire. That is, if only he had anything to fire at. He quickly put them away once he realized it was only the bats and birds. The others wouldn’t have noticed it but behind his helmet, Jason was wide eyed, noticing the post it note. He only knew of two entities that used that form of communication and one meant something significantly better than the other.

After a few moments of Red Robin and Spoiler helping Oracle into her chair, footsteps could be heard approaching. Everyone tensed, ready for a fight. Except Red Hood who could feel his core tugging at him familiarly.

Two people approached. First person they were able to see was Danny. He had decided to show up in his kingly glory, his ceremonial cloak billowing behind him. As he got closer, they could see a very short woman with black hair and round glasses smoking a cigarette walking with him. Despite Danny being a king, she was the one in charge.

The woman walked up to the group with a judgmental look, “Every one of you. When I point, you tell me your title and occupation. Go.”

Nobody said anything.

“You guys better do what she says,” said Danny chuckling. Their faces so far were hilarious.

Slowly, the family obliged, starting with Red Hood.

“I go by Red Hood. I’m a crime lord. And a vigilante I guess,” Jason said. He knew enough to know they weren’t in any danger.

The others followed along until finally it got to Bruce, “I’m Batman. Vigilante.”

The short woman scoffed and immediately started pointing out the flaws in everyone’s outfits, “You all look ridiculous! What is that, bunny ears? And you! Red, green and yellow are far too many colors! You look like a traffic light! You! Those shoes are impractical and appalling! Do any of you know what style is?!”

She walked up to Duke, “I have seen photos of your suit and it is disgusting! Too bright!”

She gestured wildly to the group, “And NO CAPES!”

The woman then went up to Red Hood, “You are perfect darling, practical and filled with personality. You are my favorite.”

Danny chuckled, “He’s my favorite too.” The king shot a knowing smirk to Jason who under his helmet blushed from the comment.

“I am designing you all new suits right away!” the woman exclaimed with a wild look in her eye.

Danny couldn’t help but start laughing at this point. The looks on everyone’s faces were pure gold. This was the best idea he had literally ever had.

“I can’t wait to see it Edna. I can pay for it too,” the king said, sneaking a glance at Red Hood, “Anything for future in-laws.”

[elikajinnie]

Tokyo Drift - N.R

P: Racer!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Teasing, Possessive Behaviour, Fluff

Synopsis: In the heart of the underground racing scene, you are a passionate starter, known for your ability to ignite excitement before each race. When you first meet Nishimura Ni-ki, a legendary driver, you are initially intimidated by him. However during the races you capture his attention.

a/n: knowing you have the attention of someone like Ni-ki is exciting tbh.. ANYWAYS i am a HUGE lover of the fast & furious franchise so this was quite overdue!! (inspired by this edit : TikTok - Make Your Day)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"I don't get why I have to be there for every race you do," you said, glancing over at your friend, who was gripping the steering wheel with one hand, the other casually shifting gears.

"Because you're the starter," he replied, his tone like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"There are other starters," you shot back. "I'm not the only one."

He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he asked, "Do you have anything better to do than attend these races?"

You opened your mouth, ready with a rebuttal, but nothing came. After a beat, you closed your mouth and sank back into the seat.

"Yeah, exactly," he said, smug. "Plus, it's good for you to get out and meet new people."

The music from the radio blared a little louder as he cranked up the volume. You sighed, fiddling with the edge of your shirt.

"And it gives you more insight for the big race next month," he added, his eyes focused on the road ahead as the car sped past traffic.

"But that's weeks away," you mumbled under your breath, shifting your gaze out the window, watching the blur of lights and cars fly by.

"You know you’ll thank me later," he said, his voice laced with confidence as he pushed the car to go even faster.

As your friend parked the car, the tires crunching on the gravel beneath, you stepped out and took in the scene. Despite the late hour, the area was alive, glowing under huge industrial lights that bathed the lot in an artificial brightness. Cars were everywhere, a chaotic lineup of souped-up rides with booming music, others showing off their horsepower, engines roaring as they drifted in tight circles.

"Did you want to be a starter today?" your friend asked, leaning casually against the roof of his car.

You shrugged. "Sure," you replied, though your energy didn’t quite match the excitement of the crowd.

Walking away, you strolled past rows of cars, admiring their sleek designs and custom paint jobs, the polished metal gleaming under the lights. You ignored the catcalls from a group of guys leaning against a low-rider, keeping your focus ahead. Tonight, you weren’t dressed to impress—just something simple, thrown on after your friend dragged you out of the house. But your bandana was tied around your wrist, the familiar black-and-white checkered pattern standing out. It was your signature, the same one you used to signal the start of every race.

The energy around you was electric, the thrum of engines mixing with the bass-heavy beats from the cars parked nearby. You wound your way through the crowd, feeling a strange mix of familiarity and detachment. You weren’t really in the mood to be here, but this scene always had a way of pulling you in.

After a bit of wandering, you spotted some familiar faces—people you knew from past races, ones who recognized you right away. They greeted you with nods and half-smiles, pulling you into their small circle.

After hanging around for a bit, chatting with familiar faces, you eventually found yourself drifting toward the starting line. As the races kicked off, your friend waved you over, a sly grin on his face. "Looks like they need a starter," he said, tossing a glance toward the eager crowd of racers lining up. You could already feel the pull, the electricity in the air calling to you.

With a nod, you stepped forward, positioning yourself between two cars. The engines growled, their headlights casting long shadows across the pavement, illuminating your figure as you stood in the middle. Both drivers stared ahead, hands gripping the wheels, laser-focused on the moment. And then there was you—at the center of it all. The one who would signal the start.

You raised your bandana high, feeling the fabric tight around your wrist. The engines revved in response, their deep rumbling vibrating through the ground beneath your feet. All eyes were on you now. The weight of the anticipation, the intensity in the air—it made your pulse quicken.

With a swift motion, you dropped your hand, and like a spark igniting gasoline, the cars exploded forward, tires screeching and smoke billowing up behind them. The sound of engines roaring filled your ears as they sped past, kicking up dust and gravel in their wake. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, the rush of adrenaline coursing through you as you watched them disappear into the distance.

The thrill was undeniable. That moment when everything paused, when the world held its breath before you dropped the flag—it was exhilarating, addictive even.

Race after race, you found yourself sinking into the rhythm of it. Standing between two roaring machines, feeling the raw power they held, and knowing you controlled the moment they unleashed it. The vibrations from the engines, the cheers from the crowd, the smell of burning rubber—it all swirled around you, making you forget about the lazy mood you'd been in earlier.

After another race, you dusted your hands off, feeling the faint tremble of excitement still lingering in your fingers. You were enjoying yourself now, more than you’d expected. This was your element—the rush, the control, the fleeting moments where everything slowed before it erupted into chaos.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You stood with a group of women, chatting casually and enjoying the scene, when a familiar lime-green Mazda rolled up to the line. The car was loud and flashy, just like its driver. You rolled your eyes the moment you saw Haruto step out, all swagger and energy, hyping the crowd as if they hadn’t seen him race a hundred times before. He soaked in the attention, pointing fingers at people he knew, already talking trash with the other drivers.

“Here we go…” you muttered under your breath, more annoyed than amused. Haruto was good—everyone knew that—but his ego was twice the size of his talent.

Just as you were about to turn away, a sleek silver Mitsubishi pulled up to the starting line next. It immediately caught your attention. You whistled low under your breath, admiring the car’s perfect blend of black and white racing stripes that seemed to melt into the silver body like it was designed for this very moment.

“No way…” you heard Ryujin, one of your friends, murmur next to you, her voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.

You turned your head to her, eyebrows raised. “What?”

She didn’t take her eyes off the car as she spoke. “He’s racing against Nishimura.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the name. “Wait… Nishimura?” You whipped your head back to the Mitsubishi, squinting to get a better look at the driver behind the tinted windows.

Everyone in the racing world knew who Nishimura was. His rise was meteoric. A few years ago, he’d been a no-name rookie, just another driver trying to make his mark. But that quickly changed. He became a legend on the underground circuit, with a reputation for being nearly unbeatable. But the man himself? You had never seen him in person. You'd only heard the stories—how he drove like he was born for the track, a natural who didn’t play by anyone’s rules.

Now, standing there, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of curiosity and awe. The Mitsubishi was sleek, powerful, but that wasn’t what had your attention. It was the knowledge that the man behind the wheel was one of the best to ever do it, and tonight, you’d finally get to see him race.

The crowd around you buzzed with energy, whispering Nishimura’s name like it carried some kind of magic. You felt the tension rising, a sense that something bigger than the usual street race was about to happen.

You glanced at Ryujin. “This is going to be over quick, isn’t it?”

She nodded, her eyes glued to the track. “You have no idea.”

As Haruto climbed back into his car, showboating as always, you suddenly felt hands on your back as Karina playfully shoved you forward. "Go on!" she giggled, clearly enjoying herself.

You shot her a wide-eyed look of disbelief. "Don’t push!" you huffed, but your feet had already carried you forward, right into the middle of the two revving cars. The roar of the engines surrounded you, vibrating through the air and into your bones. Standing there, between Haruto’s lime-green Mazda and the sleek Mitsubishi, you felt a surge of energy.

With a stern look, you raised your arms to get their attention. "Now I want a clean race! From both of you," you shouted, pointing between them. You narrowed your eyes specifically at Haruto, who was known to pull sneaky tricks when he got desperate. "No tricks, or jukes."

Haruto revved his engine in response, flashing his usual cocky grin, though his eyes darted toward the Mitsubishi, and for the first time, you noticed a hint of stiffness in his posture. He knew this wasn’t going to be an easy win.

"Ready?" you asked, locking eyes with him. He revved up again, the Mazda growling under the pressure, but his attention was split, clearly sizing up the competition.

Then you turned toward the Mitsubishi. "Ready?" you called, and the car’s engine roared to life, a smooth, confident sound that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t see through the dark windows, but you felt something different in the air—a tension you couldn’t quite place.

With a smirk, you raised your bandana high. "Go!" you shouted, waving it down. Both cars shot off the line like bullets, the roar of their engines drowning out the cheers from the crowd as they sped past you. Dust kicked up in their wake, but you stood your ground, watching as they tore through the track, navigating the turns with precision and speed.

As you turned to walk back to your spot, you didn’t know the effect you’d had.

Inside the Mitsubishi, Nishimura had almost missed his cue. The moment you’d stepped out onto the track, his focus had shifted completely. The fierce concentration he was known for had wavered. For a split second, he’d forgotten where he was, what he was doing, and what was at stake. All he could see was you, standing between the two cars, commanding the moment with confidence and authority. It was enough to throw him off—a rarity for someone like him.

It wasn’t until he saw you pointing directly at him that he snapped out of it, realizing he hadn’t revved his engine. He quickly corrected himself, the roar of the car snapping back into focus as he gunned the accelerator and sped off.

But even as he tore through the turns, effortlessly drifting and leaving Haruto in the dust, his mind kept slipping back to you. He couldn’t shake the image of you standing there,completely unbothered by the chaos around you.

By the time the race was nearing its end, Nishimura was far ahead, his car slicing through the night with ease. Haruto didn’t stand a chance, but the victory was almost secondary. Nishimura’s pulse raced with a different kind of adrenaline, one that had nothing to do with the thrill of the race.

His car roared as it crossed the finish line, its sleek frame gliding effortlessly under the neon lights. The crowd erupted into cheers, but his mind wasn’t on the race. As he pulled his car to a stop and cut the engine, the world seemed to quiet down, everything slowing for just a moment.

He exhaled, unfastened his seatbelt, and pushed open the door. Stepping out of the car, his lean frame emerged, his hair slightly tousled from the speed and wind. The crowd surged toward him, hyping up his victory, chanting his name, but Nishimura’s focus was elsewhere.

His eyes scanned the crowd, searching. It wasn’t the win that made his pulse race—it was you.

When his gaze landed on you, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you. His eyes held yours, a mix of curiosity and something you couldn't quite place, but it made your heart race.

Just as you were about to process the moment, the spell was broken by a familiar voice. "You ready to go home?" Your friend appeared beside you, jingling his keys with a grin. You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, and turned to face him.

You blinked, shaking off the lingering intensity of Nishimura's stare, "Yeah," you nodded softly, a bit dazed, before following him through the crowd. As you walked away, you couldn’t resist glancing back toward where Nishimura had been standing, but to your surprise, he was gone. Just like that.

Huh... where did he go? you thought, scanning the crowd for a sign of him, but he had seemingly vanished without a trace. A strange feeling settled in your chest—curiosity mixed with something else. You shook it off and followed your friend through the throng of people, the night air cooling as the adrenaline from the race began to fade.

When you reached your friend’s car, you leaned against the door and raised an eyebrow. "Did you even race Lucas?"

He laughed, unlocking the car and shaking his head. "Nah, didn’t bother. But I had fun." He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, and you groaned, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Ugh, I did not wanna know that," you said, scrunching up your nose in mock disgust as you slid into the passenger seat.

He chuckled and turned on the engine, the car rumbling to life as he drove off into the quiet night. The ride home was comfortable, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows through the windows.

When your friend finally pulled up in front of your house, you exchanged a quick goodbye. He waved as you got out, and you offered a small smile in return, still distracted. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, the events of the night catching up to you. A quick shower helped wash away the lingering dust and grime from the track, but it did little to clear your mind.

Finally, you collapsed into bed, your body sinking into the mattress as exhaustion pulled at you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You had been going to more races lately, every weekend like clockwork. The underground scene was alive and buzzing, with each race becoming more intense than the last. But there was one thing you noticed—a pattern that had begun to emerge. Every time you were the starter, Nishimura was there, lined up at the start with his sleek Mitsubishi, ready to race.

At first, you chalked it up to coincidence. But as the weeks passed, it became clear that it wasn’t. No matter where the races were hosted, no matter how different the crowd, Nishimura would be there. And without fail, he’d win. His driving was as smooth and precise as ever, but something about the way his eyes would linger on you just before he sped off—it left you with a strange fluttering feeling you couldn't shake.

You were about to head out when suddenly, the unmistakable wail of sirens cut through the night. In an instant, the entire atmosphere shifted. Chaos erupted as people scrambled to their cars, trying to get out before the cops could close in.

Panic surged through you as you scanned the crowd, looking for any of your friends, but the mess of people made it impossible. Cars were speeding off in every direction, headlights blurring together, and the sound of screeching tires filled the air. Your heart raced, and just as you started to feel the panic rise, a familiar sleek silver car slid to a stop beside you. The window rolled down, and there he was.

"Get in!" Nishimura shouted, his voice urgent but calm.

You didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, you jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you. Before you could even get settled, Nishimura hit the gas, and the car shot forward, weaving effortlessly between the other vehicles that were fleeing the scene. You gripped the handlebar above the door, holding on as the car sped through the narrow streets, sliding past cop cars with a precision that left you breathless.

The speedometer arrow kept climbing, the numbers blurring as the engine roared beneath you. You glanced at Nishimura, his hands steady on the wheel, his expression focused yet completely at ease. He was in his element, and you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he handled the car, as if it was an extension of him.

After a few intense minutes, the sirens grew distant, and it became clear that the cops had lost track of you. Nishimura slowed down, the adrenaline still buzzing between the two of you, but the immediate danger had passed. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relaxing your grip on the handlebar.

Taking a moment to steady yourself, your attention drifted to the interior of the car. Everything was sleek, black, and incredibly well-maintained. The leather seats were soft beneath you, and a soft red glow emanated from under your feet, casting a warm, almost intimate light. You couldn’t help but run your fingers over the dash, admiring the attention to detail.

"You like it?" Nishimura’s voice broke the silence, casual yet with a hint of curiosity.

"I do," you said, glancing over at him. He was still looking at the road, but there was something about the way he asked that told you he was aware of more than just the street ahead of him. His attention was on you, even if his eyes weren’t.

"It fits the owner," you added with a small smile.

He let out a quiet laugh, a sound that was rare but warm. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little softer now, as if the tension from earlier had melted away.

"You don’t usually hang around after races," you said, turning your attention back to him.

He glanced at you briefly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I guess tonight was different."

You tilted your head slightly, curious. "Different how?"

His smile deepened, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted gears smoothly, the car responding instantly to his touch. "I think you know," he finally said, his tone leaving little doubt that his reason for sticking around had something to do with you.

That fluttering feeling in your chest returned, but this time, it wasn’t from the rush of the race or the chase—it was from him.

As the car cruised smoothly through the quiet streets, the earlier intensity of the night had faded into a calm, almost comfortable atmosphere between you and Nishimura. You found yourself feeling surprisingly at ease around him, despite the fact that, up until now, your interactions had been mostly limited to stolen glances and brief conversations.

"You know," he said, glancing over at you as you watched the city pass by through the window, "you don’t have to keep calling me Nishimura."

You blinked and turned to face him. "Oh, right. Is that too formal or something?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "A bit. My friends call me Ni-ki."

"Ni-ki?" you repeated, testing the name on your lips.

"Yeah. I’d rather you call me that." His voice was casual, but there was something in the way he said it that felt personal, like he was inviting you into a closer circle.

"Alright, Ni-ki it is," you said, leaning back in your seat as you relaxed. "So, what do people usually call you if they’re not your friends?"

He smirked, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Depends. Usually something like ‘dangerous,’ or ‘the guy you don’t want to race .’" He glanced at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "But I’d like to think I’m pretty easygoing."

"Right," you said, raising an eyebrow. "You seem so easygoing with the way you handle a car at 100 miles per hour."

He laughed at that, the sound low and genuine, and for a moment, it felt like you were just two people hanging out—nothing more, nothing less. The conversation drifted from racing to random topics, a natural flow of words that felt effortless. He told you about the first time he ever drove a car, how he’d been obsessed with it ever since, and you shared a few stories of your own, mostly about how you had gotten into starting races.

At some point, you noticed the city lights getting closer and realized you were nearing your neighborhood. Ni-ki glanced at you, sensing it was time to ask the inevitable question.

"Where do you want me to drop you off?"

You gave him your address, and he nodded, making a smooth turn onto a quieter street as the roar of the engine softened. The car slowed to a stop outside your building, the night air still and quiet now that the chaos had long since passed. For a brief moment, neither of you said anything.

"Thanks for the ride," you finally said, unbuckling your seatbelt but not quite ready to leave just yet.

"No problem," he replied, his voice softer now, more personal in the quiet space between you.

You lingered for a second, unsure of what to say. Something about the night felt different—like it had marked the beginning of something, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Ni-ki seemed to sense it too, the way he looked at you, his eyes lingering just a little longer.

"Take care," you said, finally breaking the silence.

"You too," he replied, his gaze never wavering. "See you around?"

"Yeah," you nodded, feeling a strange sense of anticipation that you couldn’t explain. "Definitely."

With one last glance, you stepped out of the car and closed the door behind you. As you walked toward your building, you couldn’t resist turning back for a quick look. Ni-ki was still there, watching you, and when your eyes met again, he flashed you a small, knowing smile before revving the engine.

Without another word, he sped off, the silver car disappearing into the night with a smooth, powerful roar.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The past month had been a whirlwind. Your schedule had spiraled into chaos, with personal commitments swallowing up all your free time. You hadn’t even thought about the races, let alone attended one. But finally, a weekend had opened up, and you felt a rush of excitement at the thought of getting back to the underground scene.

Your friend picked you up, their car bumping with bass as they pulled up to your place. You jumped in, the familiar thrill of anticipation bubbling up inside you. The ride was filled with chatter about the races you’d missed, and as you drove closer to the city, you could feel the energy in the air building.

When you arrived at the race area, it was alive with activity, the night sky illuminated by the glow of headlights and streetlights. Cars were parked everywhere, their owners mingling and showcasing their machines. The sound of engines revving and laughter filled the air, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe.

As you wandered through the crowd, taking in the sights and sounds, you spotted Haruto leaning against a sleek, newly polished car. When he caught your eye, he grinned and pushed off the vehicle to approach you.

"How do you like the new car?" he called out as he got closer, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

You stopped, admiring the vehicle as he gestured toward it. "When did you get this one?" you asked, genuinely curious about the flashy machine that had a glossy finish reflecting the neon lights around it.

"Got it last week," he replied proudly, running a hand over the hood. "Pretty ain’t she?"

"She?" You raised an eyebrow, teasing him. "You gendered it?"

He shrugged, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "What? It just feels right. She’s got curves, you know?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. "Sure, whatever you say, Romeo."

He laughed, shaking his head as you turned to walk away. "You wait until you see her in action! I’ll show you what she’s made of."

You waved him off, your eyes wandering as you continued to explore the scene. The adrenaline was intoxicating, the atmosphere buzzing with energy. You admired the different cars, from flashy sports models to classic muscle machines.

As you continued to roam the crowd, you felt the excitement in the air, but it was abruptly interrupted by a guy who stepped in front of you. He had an easy smile, but there was something off about the way he was looking at you.

"Hey there! What’s your name?" he asked, leaning slightly closer.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge his intentions. "Not interested," you replied coolly, attempting to sidestep him.

He moved to block your path again, undeterred. "Come on, just a name. How about a number then? We could grab a drink later."

You shook your head firmly. "No thanks, I'm not interested."

His expression shifted, irritation creeping into his smile. "You sure? I could show you a good time," he said, stepping a little too close for comfort.

A sense of unease washed over you as his demeanor changed. "Back off," you warned, crossing your arms. But he didn’t take the hint; instead, he leaned in even closer, trying to assert his presence.

Just then, you felt a familiar presence behind you. A voice cut through the tension, deep and commanding. "She said no. You should listen."

Nishimura appeared, sliding a hand around your waist possessively. The gesture was both comforting and electrifying, and you could feel the shift in the atmosphere. The guy's expression turned from annoyance to fear as he realized who he was dealing with.

The guy hesitated for a moment, looking between the two of you, then backed off, hands raised in defeat. "Whatever, man. She’s not worth it anyway," he muttered before disappearing into the crowd.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning to Ni-ki. "Thanks, but I had it under control," you said, attempting to downplay the situation.

He raised an eyebrow, concern etched across his face. "Didn’t look like it. I hate seeing people act like that."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the intensity of his gaze made you pause. There was something in the way he looked at you that made your heart race.

"I missed you," he said suddenly, his voice dropping to a softer tone. It was as if the words slipped out without him even realizing it.

The admission hung in the air between you, leaving you speechless. You blinked, taken aback by the unexpected vulnerability in his voice. You’d been excited to see him again, but hearing him say that made something inside you flutter.

"You… missed me?" you finally managed to stammer, your cheeks flushing slightly.

He looked a little sheepish, his usual confidence momentarily faltering. "Yeah, I mean—well, it’s been a month since I last saw you. Of course, I did," he replied, his tone shifting back to its usual nonchalance, but you could tell he was trying to cover up the slip.

"Right," you said, your mind racing. There was an undeniable connection sparking between you, and the thought of it made your heart race even faster.

The rest of the night unfolded in a whirlwind of adrenaline and excitement as you found yourself gravitating closer to Ni-ki. His presence felt like a shield, and you relished every moment spent by his side. Every time someone glanced your way with interest or a hint of aggression, you could feel his posture stiffen beside you, a silent warning in his gaze that made you feel protected.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

One evening, as you both leaned against his car, the night air buzzing with anticipation for the upcoming races, he turned to you, his expression serious. “I have something to tell you,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with excitement.

You tilted your head, intrigued. “What is it?”

“I got scouted,” he announced, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “They want me to race for them in Japan.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a rush of joy surging through you. “That’s amazing, Ni-ki! You deserve it! This is such a huge opportunity!” You couldn’t help but feel proud of him, your excitement bubbling over.

“Thanks! I’m really excited,” he said, his smile widening. Then, his expression shifted, and he looked at you earnestly. “And I want you to come with me.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, feeling a flutter of nerves and anticipation at the same time.

“I want you to be my starter full-time for all my races,” he clarified, his gaze intense as it locked onto yours. “I can’t imagine doing this without you by my side. You’ve been a huge part of my journey so far, and I want you to continue with me.”

Your heart raced at the thought, excitement and disbelief flooding your mind. “You really want me to come with you?”

“Absolutely. You know how much racing means to me. I need someone I trust out there, and that’s you,” he said, sincerity shining in his eyes.

“I’d love to, Ni-ki!”

His face broke into a wide grin, the kind that lit up his entire demeanor. “Really? You’re on board?”

“I’m absolutely on board! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over.

He stepped closer, his arms opening wide, and without hesitation, you jumped into his embrace.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” he said into your hair, his voice slightly muffled but filled with excitement. You felt his joy resonate through you, and it made your heart swell even more.

“I know! It’s unreal!” You pulled back slightly, your hands resting on his shoulders as you looked up into his eyes, both of you sharing that moment of exhilaration.

Ni-ki chuckled softly, still holding you close. “This is going to be amazing.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “We’re going to crush it together, right? You’ll be my lucky charm out there.”

You laughed, feeling a rush of determination at his words. “Absolutely.”

He grinned, his confidence infectious. “And I’ll make sure we leave them in the dust.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

When you arrived at Ni-ki’s place, you parked your car, and took a moment to admire the neighborhood. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over everything.

Walking toward the open garage door, your gaze drifted to his sleek car sitting in the center, the hood propped open and revealing the beautifully engineered engine underneath. It was like a masterpiece of machinery, glinting under the fluorescent lights.

“Ni-ki?” you called out, your voice echoing slightly in the spacious garage.

Suddenly, Ni-ki rolled out from underneath another car nearby, his face lighting up with a bright smile. “There you are!” he exclaimed, a hint of surprise and delight in his tone. He stood up, wiping his hands with a rag he pulled from his belt, the fabric stained with oil and grease.

You couldn’t help but widen your eyes, taking in the sight of him. He was wearing a pair of dirty overalls over a white tank top, which was now marred with grease and smudges. The way his muscles flexed as he worked on the cars made it hard to focus on anything else. “You work on the cars?” you asked, trying to divert your attention from how good he looked in that moment.

“Yeah, I like to tinker here and there,” he replied casually, picking up a tool from a nearby bench before rolling back under the car. “It’s kind of become a hobby!”

You hummed thoughtfully, walking around the car to get a better view of his progress. The vehicle was clearly totaled, having seen better days after a recent crash. Yet, you could see the way he meticulously worked to fix it up, and admiration swelled within you. “This one looks like it needs a lot of love,” you commented, kneeling down to peek under the car as well.

“It does, but I can fix it,” he said with a mix of confidence and determination. “It just takes time. Plus, I enjoy the challenge.”

“Have you always liked working on cars?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Pretty much. My dad and I used to work on our old cars together when I was a kid,” he said, his voice slightly distant as if reminiscing about those moments. “I guess it stuck with me. It’s therapeutic, you know? Just me and the car, figuring things out.”

You nodded, understanding how those moments could mean so much. “It’s great to have a passion outside of racing. Do you have a dream car you want to work on one day?”

He paused for a moment, considering your question. “Definitely. I’d love to build a classic muscle car from the ground up one day. Something that turns heads and leaves a mark on the road.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, feeling a surge of inspiration at the thought of him chasing another dream. “I’d love to see that happen.”

Ni-ki rolled out from under the car again, this time standing up to face you fully. “You’ll be there to cheer me on, right?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

“Always,” you promised, feeling a warmth spread through you.

He grinned and stepped closer, wiping his hands on his overalls again, though it only spread the grease around more. “Well, since you’re here, you can help me out! I need a second pair of hands to hold the engine cover while I fix this part.”

“Sure! What do I need to do?” you said eagerly.

“Just hold it steady while I tighten these bolts,” he instructed, moving back under the car again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The days leading up to the race in Japan had been a whirlwind of excitement and adventure. Ni-ki showed you the sights of Tokyo, from the bustling streets of Shibuya to the tranquil gardens of the Imperial Palace.

As the day of the race approached, however, you noticed a shift in Ni-ki’s demeanor. He became quieter, more introspective, often staring off into space as if lost in his thoughts. You could see the weight of expectations resting heavily on his shoulders.

On the morning of the race, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his expression a mix of determination and anxiety. “Ni-ki,” you said softly, approaching him. “Are you okay?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m just nervous, you know? This is a big deal, and I really want to perform well.”

You sat beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his back. “You’ve worked so hard for this, and you’re more than ready. Just remember why you started racing in the first place.”

He nodded, but his gaze remained downcast. You took a deep breath, wanting to instill confidence in him. “You’re going to crush it out there, I know you will. Just focus on driving and trust yourself.”

As you spoke, you could see his tension slowly ease, the fire igniting in his eyes once more. “Thanks for always being here for me,” he said quietly.

Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, his cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. “Win for me, okay?” you said with a warm smile, and watched as his gaze hardened with resolve.

“I will,” he promised, the determination in his voice returning. You could see that your words had reignited the spark within him.

As night fell, you found yourselves in the car, cruising through the darkened streets of Tokyo. The city was alive with neon lights reflecting off the sleek surfaces of buildings, casting a colorful glow that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the hum of excitement in the air.

Ni-ki’s hands gripped the steering wheel with a newfound confidence, and as he navigated the winding roads, you could feel the adrenaline building between you. “Are you ready?” he asked, glancing over at you.

“I was born ready!” you replied, trying to keep the mood light, but the thrill of the moment was palpable.

He chuckled, a mischievous grin breaking through his earlier nerves. “That’s what I like to hear.”

As he drove, the anticipation grew heavier. You could almost taste the excitement as you approached the race venue, the sounds of revving engines and cheering crowds growing louder. You felt a surge of pride knowing you’d be right by his side, supporting him through every twist and turn of the race.

“Just remember,” you said, leaning closer as he focused on the road, “no matter what happens out there, you’ve got this."

His expression softened, and he turned to meet your gaze. “Thanks for believing in me. It means everything.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Always, Ni-ki."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You strolled around the venue, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The high-end cars gleamed under the bright lights, each one more stunning than the last. You took your time admiring the sleek designs and intricate details.

Trying to immerse yourself in the culture, you remembered some of the Japanese phrases Ni-ki had taught you during your flight. You approached a group of racers and smiled, offering compliments. While some responded with smiles and nods, others seemed confused, and you quickly realized that your limited vocabulary wasn’t enough to keep the conversations going.

As you wandered, you eventually found yourself standing alone, lost in thought about the upcoming race, when a tall guy approached you with a smirk. He started speaking rapidly in Japanese, gesturing animatedly, but you could only catch bits and pieces.

“Sorry” you said, apologizing. “I don’t understand," you added, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.

Instead, his expression darkened, and he leaned closer, his voice becoming more aggressive as he pressed you with questions you couldn’t comprehend. When he reached out and grabbed your wrist, panic surged through you, and you instinctively pulled away. However, his grip was too tight, and the pressure made you wince.

Just then, you heard a familiar voice cut through the commotion. “Hey! Get away from her!” Ni-ki stormed in, eyes blazing with anger as he pulled you behind him, creating a protective barrier.

The guy hesitated, then turned to Ni-ki, their eyes locking as they began to argue back and forth in rapid Japanese. You couldn’t follow their exchange, but the intensity of the situation was palpable. You rubbed your wrist, still feeling the remnants of the man’s grip as you looked from Ni-ki to the guy, who had turned an alarming shade of red, clearly taken aback by Ni-ki`s arrival.

Finally, Ni-ki turned away from the confrontation and guided you toward his car, his grip firm but gentle on your shoulder. “Come on,” he said, urgency in his tone.

“What? What happened?” you asked, bewildered, still trying to process everything.

“I’m racing,” he replied shortly, his eyes focused ahead as he led you toward his Mitsubishi.

“Against who?” you asked, glancing back at the guy, who was now standing there with a scowl, his earlier bravado deflated.

“Against the creep,” Ni-ki answered, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior.

Your heart raced at the thought. “Wait, Ni-ki, you don’t have to do this! It’s not worth it.”

He shot you a determined look, his jaw set. “I know. But he can’t just treat you like that. This isn’t just about racing; it’s about respect.”

You swallowed hard, realizing how serious he was. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, you took a moment to collect yourself, grateful for his protective instincts. “Are you sure you’re okay to race right now?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

He turned to you, his expression softening just a fraction. “I’m fine. I just need to focus. You’ll be right here, right?”

“Of course,” you replied, forcing a smile to reassure him, even though you were still rattled by the encounter.

You took a deep breath, standing between Ni-ki's sleek Mitsubishi and the other guy's car—a flashy, souped-up Honda that glinted under the neon lights. Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through you. You could feel the energy in the air, thick with anticipation as both drivers revved their engines, the deep growl echoing around you.

"Are you guys ready?" you called out, trying to maintain your composure as you pointed toward both cars. Ni-ki shot you a confident nod, his eyes locked on the road ahead. The other driver, still wearing a cocky grin, gave you a thumbs-up.

As the cars revved louder, you turned your gaze to a guy standing nearby, holding a walkie-talkie. He was scanning the area, and when he got the go-ahead that the police were nowhere in sight, he shot you a thumbs-up.

Your pulse quickened at the sight, and you felt a rush of adrenaline. You lifted the flag high, your heart pounding in your chest, and with a swift motion, you waved it down. "Go!" you shouted, your voice carrying over the roar of the engines.

Both cars shot off the line, tires screeching as they sped into the dark streets of Tokyo. You watched as they darted away, the headlights illuminating the path ahead like shooting stars against the night sky. The ground trembled beneath your feet from the sheer power of the vehicles, and you could almost feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as the excitement enveloped you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Ni-ki gripped the steering wheel tightly, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he and the other driver raced side by side through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. He could feel the intensity radiating from the other car, a flashy Honda that kept trying to tip him off balance.

“Come on, you think you can take me out?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on the road ahead. The guy was aggressive, swerving dangerously close and attempting to nudge him off course. Ni-ki remained focused, expertly maneuvering around the obstacles in his path.

He drifted into a turn, the tires screeching against the asphalt as he counter-steered and weaved through the traffic. Cars honked and swerved, their drivers caught off guard by the reckless speed of the two racers. The other driver tried to play dirty, attempting to crash into Ni-ki's rear, but Ni-ki was prepared for it. He kept his cool, steering away just in time and cutting in front of the guy as they barreled through a narrow alleyway.

“Not today,” he said through gritted teeth, determination fueling every decision he made.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ni-ki noticed a police car trailing behind them, its sirens blaring loudly. His heart dropped as he glanced in the rearview mirror, the flashing lights reflecting the urgency of the situation. “No, no, no,” he repeated, frustration rising within him. He couldn’t let himself get caught—not after everything they had worked for.

The other driver seemed to notice the approaching officer as well, and in a desperate attempt to throw Ni-ki off his game, he swerved dangerously close, trying to shove Niki into the path of the police car. Ni-ki's heart raced as he saw the cop trying to close the gap, the pressure mounting.

With quick reflexes, Ni-ki shifted gears and accelerated, pushing his car to its limits as he turned sharply to avoid a collision. He felt the weight of the Honda trying to force him into a corner, but he countered with another drift, keeping his grip tight on the wheel. The other driver, frustrated and reckless, made a final lunge for Ni-ki's car, but in the process, he miscalculated.

Ni-ki watched as the guy’s car collided with the police vehicle, the impact sending both cars spinning. Metal crunched, and he could hear the screeching of tires against pavement. Ni-ki couldn’t help but glance back, disbelief washing over him as he saw the police car crash into a row of parked cars, sending them crashing into one another like dominoes.

“Holy—” he breathed, shaking his head. The guy had gone too far. He took a moment to process the chaos, his heart still racing, but he knew he couldn’t dwell on it. The adrenaline and excitement of the race was intoxicating, and he had to keep his head in the game.

Ni-ki refocused on the road ahead, determination burning in his chest. He could see the finish line in the distance, the crowd gathering, their cheers a distant roar that urged him forward. With one final surge of speed, he pressed down on the accelerator, feeling the power of the car respond instantly. He was going to win this race—not just for himself, but for you, the one waiting at the finish line.

As he crossed the line, the cheers of the crowd erupted around him, the thrill of victory washing over him like a wave. But even in that moment, he knew he had to keep his cool and stay grounded. After all, he was racing not just against the clock, but against chaos itself.

As Ni-ki crossed the finish line, the exhilaration of victory pulsed through him. He could hardly contain his excitement as he slammed the brakes, his Mitsubishi screeching to a halt. The roar of the crowd enveloped him, a wave of adrenaline and triumph crashing over him like a tidal wave. He hopped out of the car, his heart racing not just from the race but from the sight of you waiting at the finish line, a wide smile on your face.

“Did you see that?” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with joy as he bounded over to you. He pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet for a moment. The thrill of the win felt amplified with you by his side, and he couldn't help but bask in the warmth of your presence.

“I did! You were amazing!” you replied, laughter bubbling from your lips as he set you down.

“Just doing what I do best,” he said with a playful smirk, rubbing the back of his neck in a show of modesty. But the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. He took a moment to soak it all in, the cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears, but it was your smile that made his heart swell with happiness.

As the crowd surged around him, eager to congratulate the victor, Ni-ki turned back to you, his expression softening. “You know, I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said, sincerity lacing his words. “You were my good luck charm.”

Your cheeks flushed at his compliment, and you felt a surge of pride wash over you. “I’ll be your good luck charm any day,” you teased, poking him playfully in the side.

The celebration continued around you, people shouting his name and clapping him on the back. Ni-ki basked in the glory, but even as the crowd cheered and celebrated, his eyes kept darting back to you, finding comfort in your presence.

From then, every race he entered seemed to follow the same pattern. Each time, he emerged victorious, his confidence soaring with each win.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Laying on the hood of Ni-ki's car, the warmth of the metal beneath you was comforting as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city. The vibrant hues of orange and pink painted the sky, creating a perfect backdrop for the moment you both shared. You leaned into Ni-ki, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your side, and you couldn't help but smile as you glanced up at him.

Ni-ki's gaze was fixed on you, his eyes shimmering with a mix of happiness and something deeper—something that made your heart flutter.

As you exchanged shy glances, the atmosphere shifted. The distance between you disappeared, and suddenly, you found yourselves inching closer together. Your heart raced, a mix of anticipation and excitement coursing through you as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low and tender.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

In that moment, everything felt perfect. You both leaned in, your lips meeting in a gentle kiss. It started soft and sweet, but as Ni-ki pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, it became something more. His hands slid around your waist, anchoring you to him as you melted against him, losing yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

You could feel his heart racing against your chest, mirroring the excitement and passion that filled the air around you.

As the kiss grew more passionate, you felt Ni-ki’s fingers thread through your hair, pulling you even closer. You sighed against him, savoring the moment, the thrill of it all—this incredible connection that had blossomed between you.

Finally, you pulled away, both of you breathless and smiling like fools, your foreheads resting against each other.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admitted, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

“Oh, really?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. “You seemed pretty good at racing; I thought you’d be good at kissing too.”

Ni-ki chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m still figuring out this whole romance thing. But with you? It just feels right.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but lean in for another quick kiss. The sun had fully set now, leaving a blanket of stars shimmering overhead, but the warmth of the moment lingered.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

China hacked Verizon, AT&T and Lumen using the FBI’s backdoor

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

State-affiliated Chinese hackers penetrated AT&T, Verizon, Lumen and others; they entered their networks and spent months intercepting US traffic – from individuals, firms, government officials, etc – and they did it all without having to exploit any code vulnerabilities. Instead, they used the back door that the FBI requires every carrier to furnish:

https://www.wsj.com/tech/cybersecurity/u-s-wiretap-systems-targeted-in-china-linked-hack-327fc63b?st=C5ywbp&reflink=desktopwebshare_permalink

In 1994, Bill Clinton signed CALEA into law. The Communications Assistance for Law Enforcement Act requires every US telecommunications network to be designed around facilitating access to law-enforcement wiretaps. Prior to CALEA, telecoms operators were often at pains to design their networks to resist infiltration and interception. Even if a telco didn't go that far, they were at the very least indifferent to the needs of law enforcement, and attuned instead to building efficient, robust networks.

Predictably, CALEA met stiff opposition from powerful telecoms companies as it worked its way through Congress, but the Clinton administration bought them off with hundreds of millions of dollars in subsidies to acquire wiretap-facilitation technologies. Immediately, a new industry sprang into being; companies that promised to help the carriers hack themselves, punching back doors into their networks. The pioneers of this dirty business were overwhelmingly founded by ex-Israeli signals intelligence personnel, though they often poached senior American military and intelligence officials to serve as the face of their operations and liase with their former colleagues in law enforcement and intelligence.

Telcos weren't the only opponents of CALEA, of course. Security experts – those who weren't hoping to cash in on government pork, anyways – warned that there was no way to make a back door that was only useful to the "good guys" but would keep the "bad guys" out.

These experts were – then as now – dismissed as neurotic worriers who simultaneously failed to understand the need to facilitate mass surveillance in order to keep the nation safe, and who lacked appropriate faith in American ingenuity. If we can put a man on the moon, surely we can build a security system that selectively fails when a cop needs it to, but stands up to every crook, bully, corporate snoop and foreign government. In other words: "We have faith in you! NERD HARDER!"

NERD HARDER! has been the answer ever since CALEA – and related Clinton-era initiatives, like the failed Clipper Chip program, which would have put a spy chip in every computer, and, eventually, every phone and gadget:

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

America may have invented NERD HARDER! but plenty of other countries have taken up the cause. The all-time champion is former Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull, who, when informed that the laws of mathematics dictate that it is impossible to make an encryption scheme that only protects good secrets and not bad ones, replied, "The laws of mathematics are very commendable, but the only law that applies in Australia is the law of Australia":

https://www.zdnet.com/article/the-laws-of-australia-will-trump-the-laws-of-mathematics-turnbull/

CALEA forced a redesign of the foundational, physical layer of the internet. Thankfully, encryption at the protocol layer – in the programs we use – partially counters this deliberately introduced brittleness in the security of all our communications. CALEA can be used to intercept your communications, but mostly what an attacker gets is "metadata" ("so-and-so sent a message of X bytes to such and such") because the data is scrambled and they can't unscramble it, because cryptography actually works, unlike back doors. Of course, that's why governments in the EU, the US, the UK and all over the world are still trying to ban working encryption, insisting that the back doors they'll install will only let the good guys in:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

Any back door can be exploited by your adversaries. The Chinese sponsored hacking group know as Salt Typhoon intercepted the communications of hundreds of millions of American residents, businesses, and institutions. From that position, they could do NSA-style metadata-analysis, malware injection, and interception of unencrypted traffic. And they didn't have to hack anything, because the US government insists that all networking gear ship pre-hacked so that cops can get into it.

This isn't even the first time that CALEA back doors have been exploited by a hostile foreign power as a matter of geopolitical skullduggery. In 2004-2005, Greece's telecommunications were under mass surveillance by US spy agencies who wiretapped Greek officials, all the way up to the Prime Minister, in order to mess with the Greek Olympic bid:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_wiretapping_case_2004%E2%80%9305

This is a wild story in so many ways. For one thing, CALEA isn't law in Greece! You can totally sell working, secure networking gear in Greece, and in many other countries around the world where they have not passed a stupid CALEA-style law. However the US telecoms market is so fucking huge that all the manufacturers build CALEA back doors into their gear, no matter where it's destined for. So the US has effectively exported this deliberate insecurity to the whole planet – and used it to screw around with Olympic bids, the most penny-ante bullshit imaginable.

Now Chinese-sponsored hackers with cool names like "Salt Typhoon" are traipsing around inside US telecoms infrastructure, using the back doors the FBI insisted would be safe.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

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/2024/10/07/foreseeable-outcomes/#calea

Image: Kris Duda, modified https://www.flickr.com/photos/ahorcado/5433669707/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[transit-fag]

Urban design concept of the day

Dedicated lanes

Transit needs a dedicated ROW to move efficiently, but sometimes there isn't enough space or budget to build underground or elevated tracks, that's where streetrunning comes in. When you run a line like a tram, lightrail or BRT on the Street it is significantly cheaper to build but slower and less safe with the chance of getting stuck in traffic, hit by a car or by having a car park in front of the vehicle. This can be solved by slightly increasing costs and giving the transit it's own lane and signal priority as if cars can't drive where the transit is, then the transit can move at considerably higher speeds. Basically giving transit a dedicated transit lane on a street makes it cheaper to build but still keeps the trains fast and efficient

[incognitopolls]

This question is about what YOU do, not what the law says. Vote according to how YOU use your turn signals.

"Turn only lane" meaning a lane designated ONLY for cars that are turning.

"Turns that will cross potential traffic" means a turn in which you'll drive across another lane (or several) where cars are traveling the opposite direction. In places where cars drive on the RIGHT side of the road, this would mean a LEFT turn, and vice versa.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[seleneprince]

Part 2 of my MC's file from the yandere!batfam au

HER ARSENAL:

-Lucia's skills as a hacker are inspired by the Watch Dogs universe.

-She can remotely hack phones to access data, disable alarms, or track locations. Tamper with security cameras for intel or to map out routes. Overloard junction boxes to create distractions or disable power.

-Even manipulate traffic lights to cause accidents or create a escape route.

-She can also override vehicle systems, remotely controlling cars or locking people inside.

-She's also an inventor. Her fascination with tech doesn't end only in programming. She loves creating and developing tech stuff. Robots and drones are her favourites, designed for surveillance, as weapons, or other related tasks, such as planting bugs and retreiving items.

-With time, she learns to build specialized tools like signal jammers, EMPs, or hacking tools disguised as everyday items. Nothing escapes her.

-She has many hiding spots in Gotham, after years of finding routes by jumping through rooftops and sneaking around, but she mostly frecuents her main safehouse, that's located within an abandoned warehouse in The Narrows, and extends below utilizing portions of the closed underground station.

-She knows no one would think of looking down there, unless they know what they're looking for.

-It serves her as a workshop, but also as an operations center and her own personal heaven, where she can rest and enjoy herself in peace. She feels more at home there than in the Wayne manor.

-She puts her gymnastic skills to good use, sneaking through rooftops, alleyways, and urban infrastructure to her advantage. Sometimes she'll rely on drones for mobility instead, controlling them to scale virtually any wall and obstacle that she can't by bypass with parkour.

-She's not a fighter, but years of judo classes have allowed to defend herself when the situation calls for it. She's usually armed with compact, high-voltage stun weapons that incapacitate people without killing them. All of which designed and developed by her.

-She operates with an alter ego, Ghost, and later Zero, with which she manages her "errands" and communicates with people who hire her services. At first, the alter ego only exists online, but with time, she begins to intervene more in her missions, and it's not unusual for her to sneak into places to do her work, so she uses a disguise.

-When she's acting as her alter ego, she wears form-fitting athletic wear for unrestricted movement, with a jacket over it with deep pockets and hidden compartments, that helps conceal her shape. A sleek, high-design mask that covers from her nose to her forehead, equipped with augmented reality features for hacking on the go and a voice modifier, which creates a robotic tone that makes impossible to discern her age or gender. She also uses gloves, to keep her fingerprints away from any surface.

-She started doing some hacking here and there for hiring, but eventually, she associates with villains and works with them. She does some morally and legally questionable stuff (downright crimes) for money and also for the thrill of power, for the self-validation.

-Regardless, she doesn't really follow anyone. She works on her own terms and mostly does her own things. She's friends with some other hackers too and they work together from time to time, but otherwise, she acts alone.

-The classes and extracurricular activities she took in an effort to impress her family (judo, gimnastics, programming, drawing) have proven to be very useful with her new job, giving her a set of skills that she's honed for her not-so-legal endevours.

-She has her own motorbike, her favourite gift from Alfred that she treasures. She calls it "my baby", and has given it a few not very legal modifications to improve the design to her taste.

Personal info:

-She doesn't call Bruce "dad" or "father". It's always Bruce, or Mr Wayne if she feels particulally petty.

-She was banned from judo competitions after accidentally breaking her oponent's leg. In her defense, she had an awful day and the poor bastard decided it was a good idea to taunt her into hitting him. She claims she's gotten over it already (lies, she still gets pissy over it).

-She's been practically raised by Alfred, and they have the sweetest bond. He's the only person in the manor she respects, and wants to make him proud. That's why she does her best to hide her double life from him, knowing he would dissaprove.

-Funny enough, because Alfred is the same one who taught her how to shoot a gun and where to stab someone to render them helpless. The man is no fool, he knows he can't stop a teenager from doing dumb shit, but he can at least make sure she's prepared for the worst outcomes.

-She has the habit of moving around the manor like a monkey, climbing and jumping around like the proud gymnast she is. The manor is like a obstacle park for her. Why take the stairs when she can just jump off the rail and land gracefully on the ground? It's much faster.

-Alfred had to patch her up more than once from stunts gone wrong, but always encouraged her that "there's no victory without failure".

-She's grown up helping Alfred around the manor, slowly but surely taking his tasks from him and doing them herself so he can rest. She's worried about his high activity at his old age, fearing he might drop dead one day out of exhaustion.

-They share the house chores, and he calls her "his little helper", even though she's taller than him now. Lucia's heart melts when he calls her that, but pretends to complain with "she's not a kid anymore"

-She's fixated with the color red ever since her mom's death, specially with the kind of red that resembles blood stains. At the same time, she has severe claustrophobia.

-She hates the color green ever since Damian tried to kill her. It reminds her of his eyes.

-Speaking of it, she's either indifferent or polite with the others, but she hates Damian with passion. He gave her trauma, nightmares and a permanent scar on her neck that would never dissapear, among being an absolute bully whenever their paths cross. She avoids him entirely.

-Even thought she's stranged, she's still known as Bruce Wayne's daughter. She got kidnapped not much later after moving in to Wayne Manor by Penguin, whom she won over by being overly nice and polite with despite her circumnstances. Her mother taught her that bowing her head and be pleasant could save her life in the worst situations (pity it didn't save her)

-She was rescued quickly enough by Bruce, but he handled the ordeal as if it was an inconvenience rather than his daughter having been in a life-threatening situation.

-She's been kidnapped and attempted to more times over the years, each one cementing her belief that she had to save herself because no one else would.

-Her little brother, Marco, is a year younger than Damian, and has dyslexia, which is one of the reasons Lucia works so hard to provide him the best from a distance. She knows the educational system doesn't fit kids with special needs like him, specially if they're orphans.

-She's taken upon herself to be a mother for Marco, unconsciously seeking to cope with their mom's death by taking her place in his life. She visits him frecuently at the orphanage and pulls strings so he doesn't get adopted. It's selfish, she knows, but she can't stand the idea of another family getting him and losing contact with him.

-Being possessive with family runs in her blood.

-She adores him, but her relationship with the boy is also built on her feelings of neglect and the trauma of losing their mother. She holds unto him not only out of love, but because she feels he's the only true family she has. The only brother who loves her unconditionally and doesn't make her feel like shit.

-She's a parentified oldest daughter at its finest, used to act like an adult even at a young age. The only times she allows herself to be a girl her age is when she's alone with Alfred or with her best friends.

-She smokes and has some self-destructive tendencies, but crosses the line at getting drunk.

-She has discounts at the Iceberg Lounge whenever she goes. Gets along surprisingly well with Oswald Cobblepot, with him being somewhat fond of her since the kidnapping.

-Because of this, she has met a couple of villains already and even talked to them. Ivy and Harley are secretly scouting her for Siren potential, trying to see if she's worth it.

-All of them at some point have met her alter ego online. She has contacts everywhere.

-Marco's biological father is a pillar in both their lives since they were kids, and Lucia has a complex dynamic with the man. His identity is relevant to the plot.

-Out of all her "siblings", she likes Duke the most. He's the only one who's been friendly with her since the beginning and hasn't gotten bored of her, unlike Stephanie. They were close before, but after Lucia found out their secret identities, she kept her distance from him, much to his sadness.

-She doesn't mind Barbara and Cassandra. She's polite when she sees them and has no particular problem with their presence.

-She strongly dislikes Dick, Jason and Stephanie, and she doesn't have an opinion on Tim, beyond that he has assholes vibes.

-My Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Damian Wayne from this au are inspired by the ones from @solelifauna. If you want to get an idea, go check her works and you'll understand.

-Lucia knows all of their vigilante lives, but pretends she doesn't so to not give them a reason to bother her. Alfred is aware that she knows, since he was there when she found out, in an accidental way.

-Long story short, she snuck in the Batcave and saw all the stuff, including the uniforms. She had a mental breakdown right there and rushed to pack her stuff, determined to run away. She's a criminal, she doesn't want to share space with the people who hunt down those who break the law. Alfred caught her and managed to convince her to stay, agreeing that she would keep the secret and the family wouldn't have to know about this incident.

-Alfred thinks he reacted like that because she's afraid of being targeted by the Batfamily's enemies.

-In reality, she's afraid of being targeted by the Batfamily themselves.

@bunbunboysworld

[leonw4nter]

There Are No Cute Officers In The Station!.. save for one

RE2R!Leon x Teacher!F!Reader

“Tehila Kaufman.”

“Here!”

“Antonia Lange.”

“Here!”

“And… Sherry Birkin.”

The lack of a response caught your attention instead of her voice. You call her name again, looking around in the bus for any sign of the blonde 12-year-old. You observe each seat, counting and checking each student for any sign of Sherry.

“Sherry!” A classmate of hers calls out, shifting in her seat and pressing her hands into the foggy windows. You remind the class to stay put in their seats and be on their best behavior as you exit the bus to greet your pupil and her guardian, who looked a little frazzled.

“Sherry! Good morning, I was looking for you,” you say with a soft smile as you ruffle her hair which is styled into a braid paired with a strawberry clip near her temple.

“I’m really sorry, miss. The taxi we rode on the way here got pulled over by cops and it took us quite some time to find another one,” her guardian Claire apologized with a meek beam.

You smiled and nodded, understanding her situation; you have enormous respect for Claire, juggling an odd job along with college while also taking care of a 12-year old. Despite all the odds stacked against her, the teen always managed to make sure Sherry was ready for school, which included making sure she had complete supplies and was sent to school before the school day started. You reassured her that all is fine before informing her that Sherry should board the bus now since the bus is scheduled to leave for the Raccoon City Police Station soon to begin the whole-day trip.

“Bye, Claire! See you later! I’ll try to bring home a souvenir if I can afford some!” She excitedly beams, to which she chuckles brightly at. With one more wave and a hug, she finally hops on the bus and goes to her designated seat.

After doing one final headcount of all the students and asking any of them if they needed to go to the restrooms, you give the driver a go signal to hit the road. Since the elementary school was just 15 minutes away from the museum-turned-police station, you advised that the students take a quick nap before they arrive at the destination. You look back and see some students already taking their naps, though some were talking with their peers or snacking on some energy bars. With a small smile, you turn back to the brochure you were sent and go over the paper. The program would start with a quick greeting by the lieutenant Marvin Branagh before he hands over the main task to officer Leon Kennedy for the rest of the afternoon before ending the tour with a quick video presentation and an essay-writing activity on their experience. Since you went over everything that needed to be checked and there would be some moderate traffic on the way, you decided to also catch a nap of your own.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After that short nap, you spent most of the time reminding the children not to touch anything they weren’t given permission to touch and to avoid bothering the other officers there since they had work to do. You also reiterated rules once more which included asking questions respectfully, asking permission to go to the restroom, and no rough playing. You considered it perfect timing when your reminders came to an end, the driver announcing that the class had arrived at the RPD. All the students pressed against the windows nearest to the station’s gates, oohing and aahing at the sight in front of them.

“That’s so cool! Look at that!”

“I can’t believe this place is a police station now. It still looks fascinating!”

“I wonder if there’s going to be any cute officers in here,” you hear a pupil giggling to her friends. You chuckle at her outlook on the situation before responding to her, her cheeks burning pink like her sweater.

“There won’t be any cute officers, Clara. Admire the art and not the cops, okay?”. She responded with a giddy grin and gave you a thumbs up, still giggling with her friends. Well, that was as much as an adolescent girl can promise but you didn’t mind too much as long as she didn’t get in trouble. After all, it’s not like you could judge her when you’re out on a personal mission to find a worthy bachelorette for your coworker Lilia’s affections; she could really use some help in rekindling her love life.

After a few minutes, you instructed your students to leave the bus in an orderly manner before lining them up by girls and boys in order to enter the beautiful station. The last thing people expected a museum to transform into is a police station and the RPD did a damn good job at it. Although much of the museum has been changed to fit a more police station feel, there were still remnants of the past museum that stayed like puzzle mechanisms, the statue up front, and the library that still stood according to the contractors involved in transforming the building. Those were only what you’ve read somewhere so of course, there’s going to be more locations within the precinct that were left unchanged during the renovation. Now that all your students have finally calmed down and straightened their lines,  you begin leading them inside the gates and eventually into the precinct proper. The entire way to the large brown doors, your students quietly observed the various red and green herbs near the fences along with other ornamental flowers but occasionally oohed and ahhed some more, especially when officers started coming out of the door to welcome the eager students. The giggles and excited chuckles increase in volume, the electric excitement sizzling in the air– even the officers were excited, some of them also giggling and beaming widely; it seems like they’re just as excited as the kids are. Now that the class is right at the entrance of the precinct proper, you give them the cue to quiet down before greeting the three officers ‘good day’.

“Good day, officers!” They all greet in unison, genuine smiles on their lips. Their greeting pulls gleeful laughs from the officers before one of them speaks up.

“Good day to you as well, students. I’m Marvin Branagh, the Lieutenant for the Raccoon City Police Department but you may call me Officer Branagh. Here with me are officers Jill Valentine and Brad Vickers. They will help me in explaining the history of the museum up until recent renovations and then we’ll hand over the task to Officer Kennedy, who is waiting inside. He will act as your tour guide around the station– he may be a rookie but he’s well-versed in the rooms and artifacts in here so I trust that he will be able to execute his job well.”

The students nod, most of their gazes now peeled on the door instead of the officers. Jill chuckles and looks at you, giving you a kind smile.

“I guess you guys look ready to head in. Do you wanna head in now?,” she asks with a bright beam.

“Yeah!” Your students respond all together. Brad chuckles, giving Jill a friendly smack to the back.

“Hmm, I don’t feel the energy. Are you guys really ready?”

“YEAH!” They respond even louder, some of them cupping their hands to their mouth. Jill looks pleased with the hyping she’s done, giving Brad a confident look before she directs them in. “Alright. Let’s head in.”

With a small grunt, she and Brad open the doors to reveal the interior of the station. As soon as the kid last in line enters, you follow and take a look around for yourself. Your gaze falls on the ceilings and the wooden accents on the walls, stairs, and pillars before you really drink in the sight of the marble statue right in front of you. The Statue of the Winged Goddess is a lot taller than you thought, pictures now seeming to not capture the breathtaking marble sculpture. Even your students were stunned into silence, quietly appreciating the statue and the rest of the station’s wonders. “Wow, it’s so pretty” you think to yourself. “I should visit here again by myself sometime.”

“I see everyone’s got their breaths taken away by the beautiful Goddess in our station,” Brad’s voice snaps everyone out of their trance, you included.

“I get it, I was like that too when I first got there. Couldn’t stop staring and marveling at her, she’s a beauty isn’t she?”

The students murmur some “uh uh”s, unable to really tear their eyes off. You managed to snag your attention away from her, a little surprised at how your students were more enamored by the statue than the remnants of the museum that remained in the form of wooden accents and carvings on the Roman Tuscan columns.

“Alright, class. Eyes on Officer Vickers, he’ll be explaining the history of Raccoon City and the museum before it got renovated and reworked into a police station,” you say. They lead the students towards a room and they take their seat, sitting with their friends though you reminded them not to be too noisy.

“I advise that you take out notebooks and pens because you will have a written reflection activity by the end of the trip.”

The news of an essay activity due soon drew groans and complaints from your pupils but they still brought our paper and pens, ready to listen to the presentation.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After the 30-minute long presentation on various facts and information regarding the city and the station’s history, Brad finally wrapped it up. In the first half of the presentation, Marvin left the room and went somewhere to go look for someone, Officer Kennedy you assume. Jill and Brad took turns presenting, the pair doing their best to make this as interesting as possible for the children to keep their attention hooked on the slides and the short video that will be shown later on. Jill and Brad shared stories about how they came to work at Raccoon City, their younger years, their experiences when they were rookies, among many others.

“Jill here nearly got crushed during an investigation up there in the Arklay Mountains, carried around the ‘Jill Sandwich’ nickname for a bit,” Brad reminisced with a wicked grin while Jill was in the corner, arms crossed with a smirk while she tilts her head down and shakes it, brown strands swaying along to the motion.

Some students giggled, laughing along to their jokes; though it was easy to make them laugh, you’d bet that their cheeks would hurt by the time they got home due to how wide they were grinning. Sherry was talking amongst her friends, beaming and whispering every now and then. She seemed a lot more excited than the rest, if that was even possible; she kept looking towards the door where Marvin left but you didn’t really mind since it didn’t look like Sherry was too bothered by anything yet you made sure to still look after her well.

“That is it for our presentation, how was it?” Brad asked. “Anyone got questions? Clarifications? Insights?”

“Calm down, Vickers. Let the kids choose what to answer man,” Jill teased.

Casey raises his hand, waving it in eagerness to share what he possibly has to say. Jill nods to him, giving him the go-ahead to speak.

“It must be so cool working here! I mean– you got cool lookin’ statues and puzzles everywhere!”

Brad nods, smiling sincerely at the boy. “Yeah, it’s cool working here but it gets boring sometimes. Sometimes the day is slow and police work isn’t all going on missions and shooting guns– there’s times where we just sit at our desks and read mountains of reports but I love my job.”

Jill agrees, sharing an experience of her own for a few more minutes before officially wrapping up the presentation. “Now that everyone’s run out of things to say and ask, it’s time for the station tour to be led by our own rookie, officer Kennedy.”

You hear the door slightly creak along with the shuffling of shoes, soft taps of the soles of their footwear against the marble floors. You turn your head to observe where the sound is coming from and you swear you saw the sun walk in clad in blues and RPD badges. You try to stop staring at him shamelessly, to not gawk with your jaw parted but you fail; the longer you stared, the surroundings blurred into insignificance and all noise died down, the cheesiest romantic song you know seemingly playing in the distance the more he walked. It seemed perfect that this tall glass of water walking towards the front of the class worked at a building that used to house the finest pieces of art; this man looks like he was sculpted by a maestro. He didn’t say or do anything but his presence commanded your eyes, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He must’ve really had you under his spell since you didn’t notice your grip loosening on your tumbler, the metal bottle falling and creating an irritating clanging sound. The pretty officer whips his head towards your direction, his gaze aimed straight for your eyes before dropping down to the tumbler on your foot. Before you could bend down and pick it up before mumbling an apology to everyone, he rushed towards your direction to pick it up for you. Neatly trimmed nails and long, slender fingers wrapped around the bottle to hand it to you. As he stood back to original height, he locked eyes with you before extending his hand.

“Here. Cute stickers, by the way,” he softly whispers with a small smile. A warm gust of air escapes your lips, exhaling a breath you didn’t know you held. You could simply nod and look dumb in front of who is possibly the most gorgeous man you’re ever seen, what a way to create a first impression. You take the bottle from him, the tip of your finger brushing against his hand causing your finger to feel an electric tingle on where skin met.

“Thanks,” you mumble with a wonky smile. He nods at you before heading to the front to really start the tour.

“Leon!”

You crane your head to where Sherry is standing– or, was standing. She shot up from her area and ran towards Leon, giving him a big hug with her arms wrapped around his waist. Leon looked pleasantly surprised, returning her hug with a hug of his own, his hand around her shoulder. “Don’t worry guys! We know each other,” Sherry explained coolly. Leon chuckles, nodding along and confirming her statement. He gives her kind pats to the back, the room looking a lot brighter every time he chuckled; the way his eyes wrinkled when he grinned big reminded you of a golden retriever puppy, down to the color of his sun-spun hair and his overall aura. You had to blink away the trance he unknowingly set on you, turning your attention back to the students and the other officers in the room, acting as if your heart wasn’t rattling at the rib confines of your chest. You hoped that your cheeks weren’t a vibrant red, standing out from the rest of your appearance.

“Good day, students. I’m Officer Kennedy and I’ll be your tour guide around the station. Although you are free to look around and take pictures, I’m going to set some rules down for the class, does that sound great?” He throws up two thumbs up, looking at the children for confirmation. You swore that your nails would dig into the paint of the tumbler, causing the paint to chip away a little bit due to the sheer force you were exerting into holding on that tumbler just to stay calm. You couldn’t possibly have a crush on an officer in a station you visit for a trip! You’re not even sure if you’re going to come back here anytime soon! Now that the kids had given him confirmation, he puts his hands down, and chuckles a little more before continuing on with the explanation.

“As I’ve said earlier, you can take pictures and take sketches but please do not place your hands on the display, draw on any surface, or play with the artifacts. Most of these are old and possibly even the only of its kind so we advise you to proceed carefully. Everything clear?”

The students once nodded again, some students repeating “clear” back to the man in front of them.

“Okay. Now that that’s done, I would like to ask you to form a line outside the briefing room before we start.”

You direct the students to get up and form a line of two but surprisingly, Leon helps you even if the task doesn’t seem to be bothering you. He shoots you a small smile as he continues to assist you in arranging the students, which didn’t take much. Now that everyone was arranged accordingly, he began to lead the class around the station while receiving smiles and thumbs-up from his coworkers who seemed to be hyping him up while Marvin looked on proudly. You smiled at the thought since it was nice that they all seemed to have a bond closer than you thought. Leon was just about to look ahead again, turning his head back to face the corridor ahead when he caught your gaze.. He held eye contact for a little bit before breaking away and you swear you left behind your soul downstairs. This is going to be one interesting trip, especially with a charming officer charming his way into your heart.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

All went smoothly until you noticed the line looking a little too odd. Well, that’s because someone happened to be missing. The moment you realized that someone had managed to slip away and wander into the myriad of rooms in the upper floors of the station. As soon as you noticed, you made the children neaten up their line before giving Leon a tap on the shoulder.

“Officer,” you whispered. “I’ve got a missing student! I don’t know where they are, probably in one of the rooms. I swear I saw them just a few moments ago, must’ve slipped away.”

His eyes widen but not before he takes one more glance at the line of children, curious as to why the productive tour suddenly stopped. Some students seemed to have picked up on a missing student, asking where their peer might’ve gone off to. Leon places a reassuring hand on your shoulder before reaching into his walkie-talkie to radio to the other officers to look for a missing student, giving descriptions of their hair color and clothing. The tour had to be put on hold, Leon directing them back to the holding area and making sure no one else slipped off. Leon took your hand and looked into your eyes, determination and hope shining bright in those eyes of his. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, instructing you to stay with your students for the meantime.

“Don’t worry, miss. We’ll find them in no time. In the meantime, please ask officer Bass to reach into the drawer to my right and get the bags of mini donuts. The kids deserve a snack.”

He nodded and began to walk off before turning around to face you again. “Help yourself to some too. It’s been quite the morning.”

As soon as he left, another officer came in. “Bass”, his patch reads. Leon must've called his attention before he left, telling him to come in. You told the officer about Leon’s directions, disappearing through the door before coming back in with bags of mini donuts for the class. You open up bags and instruct students to take what will satisfy their hunger, making sure that there’s other pieces for other students. You decided not to have some, anxiety disabling your ability to feel hunger at the moment. You can only hope that this issue is resolved before parents get involved.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Miss Y/N. Found them,” Leon says. His large hand is on the student’s shoulder, the student looking a little sheepish after realizing he got the class worried. They were fiddling with the straps of their bags, gaze downcast towards the ground as the officer walked him towards you. “Found them in the entomology room, was sketching some beetles.”

You walk towards your student, checking around if they lost anything or appeared injured even if they were just sketching some insects.

“Are you alright? When did you slip away from the rest of the line?” you softly ask. “Why didn’t you ask permission?”

Your student stayed silent, a little too shy to answer any questions for now. Eventually, they spoke up but in a hushed voice.

“I got a little distracted with the longhorn beetle display and forgot to tell everyone else that I was there at the insect-display room,” they explain. “I didn’t mean to make everyone worried and I’m sorry for causing a fuss all over the station.”

Leon chuckled softly and bent down to his level, a kind smile displayed on his face. “Hey, it's fine. Just make sure to tell your teachers or any adults if you’re going to go somewhere, okay? Nice drawing back there though. You’ve got a knack for art.”

The student smiles a little bit though they’re still stiff. You lead them to the rest of the group, the tour day ending. Some students pass a few mini donuts in their direction. You finally call up the driver to come pick everyone up and go back to the school, where their guardians will fetch their children.

“I don’t think you had a donut,” Leon asks with a boyish grin.

“Yeah. I didn’t,” you softly respond.

“Anxious?”

“Yeah. Well, I was because that’s my student and how could I be so careless to let something like this happen?”

Leon stays silent, standing right beside you as he observes the kids along with other officers deployed during the incident earlier.

“They’re here now, safe and sound too. I guess this is a learning experience for all.”

His comment pulls a small grin from you. What he said wasn’t even remotely funny but it somehow made you smile. God, were you all sappy for him already? Well, it is easy to make you smile. Maybe you’re subconsciously using smiling as a way to calm yourself down and try not to be too overwhelmed with the incident from earlier.

“Well, since you didn’t have a snack earlier… What if I take you up on a donut run one of these days? Next week, maybe– or any time you’re free?” He asks. “I know a couple places.”

His cheeks flush to the shade of cold watermelons on a hot summer day, the sudden burst of color a contrast to the pale skin of his face. You noticed him fidgeting with a loose thread of his pants, a little nervous on asking you. You beam wider, accepting his offer and setting dates, exchanging numbers. Just as you finish writing down the last digit of your number, the bus arrives. Quickly, you arrange your students again and begin leading them out the station, reminding them to thank the officers for their patience and time.

“I’ll walk them out,” you hear Leon say to his superior as he accompanies you to the bus and helps the students jump up on the steps, reminding them to be careful and to have a safe ride back home.

"You too, miss Y/N. Have a safe trip back home.”

“Will do, officer.”

He takes your wrist and gently helps you up even if the height isn’t even that great to begin with. You give him a thumbs up before waving him bye. You’ve already made a mental note to come back there and sign up on an itinerary tour as soon as you arrive in order to take some time admiring the architecture for yourself but turns out you’re going to be coming back to admire someone who you wish will be all to yourself soon.

NOTE - This was supposed to be posted 3 days ago in time for my birthday but I was busy with so much school work, I wasn't able to post this on the date I set for myself 😭😭 My birthday was cool actually: I almost got lost in another town, I passed an admission test that I got sick and miserable for, and my best friend got me a Chris Redfield capcorom!!!!! Taking Chris wherever I go now like I'm out here greeting him good morning or good night before I go to bed 😭😭 I forgot to ask my mom if I can get a birthday cake so I was unable to print my Leon, Dante, Vergil, and Nero cake-toppers BUT IT'S FIINEEE. I was losing motivation due to being unable to work on this because I have requirements due and this fic was marinating in my document for 2 weeks so... yeah :| Fic releases will be less frequent since I've got so much things to do lately. I'm also still accepting requests so feel free to drop by in my asks. OH RIGHTT my team for our sports festival on dodgeball won despite having absolutely ZERO practice so I'm proud of that :) Anyways, that's it and thank you so, so, so much for reading my fics!!!!!! I <333333 UUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are from @plutism , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[rowretro]

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮

(thank this song for my return sober<3 and ofc riki!!!)

✧Warnings: Nothing I know of- tell me if there's any warnings

✧Synopsis: Having a crush on someone can stir up your emotions, one moment, bubbling with love, feeling stupid the next, mind invaded with that person, love signals everywhere, it would feel as though you're in a music video. Y/n is almost convinced he's the one, though she didn't think to ask for his name, she's to shy, after all he's way out of her league. Little did she know, Riki too felt the same, Too shy to approach her.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

Y/n waited patiently, sat on a moss-coated wall her sparkly nails, tapping against the silver case of her phone. it's been a whole 35 minutes since her dear friend Eunchae went in for a date, she was so convinced it would go wrong that she dragged y/n alone just in case. But all y/n could see was her friend smiling and laughing like never before, no red signals. Heck it must be some kind of lover's day, so many couples surrounding her, it's almost sickening. Don't get her wrong, she's all for love, true love, the kind one'd die for, the kind where you can trust someone, the love makes you seem like an idiot.

Y/n pulled out her phone, head down as she connected her Bluetooth earphones, scrolling through Spotify looking for a song she feels like listening to in her playlist. Just as she looked up from her phone, picking a song, she almost fell on her back, gripping on the wall as she stared the small, glowing insect fluttering before her. She had no idea where it came from, the glowing blue butterfly, with black lines painted on it's wings, to created such a intricate design. She turned her head in it's direction, as it flew through a few couples.

Riki parked his car, stepping out of it as he searched for the coupon on his phone. His summer holiday has been nothing but boring so far, a dreading, uneventful month of being woken up early by his Hyung's, doing chores, eating junk and playing video games. Which is why he was out here, yawning, as he pulled up the Papa John's app on his phone. It was a Tuesday after all. As he looked up from his phone, he cussed under his breath, almost falling back against his car's front, as he saw the blue morpho butterfly up close, its wings fluttering away from him. His head turned, a frown adorning his face, but it soon disappeared when he locked eyes with a girl.

Her black hair cut somewhat short, layers flowing out and framing her face, dark eyes somewhat wide, stars reflecting from pupils. Y/n didn't fail to notice those pretty moles of his, one under his eye, just like hers, his lips plump, but his eyes, lovestruck. Never has she ever seen a man like this in these local streets. She frowned as the cars drive past, obstructing their view. Riki groaned, standing by the traffic light. His eye's narrowing at the red light, as he mentally threatened it. His eyes widened as he saw the red stop man move, his hands forming a heart.

Y/n frowned kicked the rock before her, annoyed. One pretty boy, and the polluted roads lost him. Pollution really does do harm after all. She frowned as she stared at the rock she just kicked, it was shaped like a heart. She sighed rolling her eyes, god and his odd ways of sending humans a message through coincidences. She froze in her seat when the bubbles that the kids blew, suddenly formed in the shape of hearts. She's just going crazy. Just in a small distance, between the never ending bubbles, the biggest sign cane walking toward her.

The male himself. Riki had no idea what he was doing, or what he was going to do, but perhaps his hesitation with something as simple as approaching a stylish girl, is what's keeping him from having a fun-filled bright summer. "Hey uhm could you walk me to Papa John's? I'm new here so..." New here? bullshit. He had been here since he was 14. "Uhm it's just there.... where you were earlier...." Y/n said as she mentally facepalmed. Fuck. was he asking her out? "I know.... so would you mind?... I can treat you to some pizza for the burden." He asked again , hopeful and internally screaming, though outside he played it off cool, shocked by how calm he was being.

"Gladly!" She said with a smile. Eunchae can always call her. Plus it seems she's having a blast anyway. Y/n can turn down any pretty boy. A Lee Suho? Han Seojun? but this pretty boy, was worth all her time. So says the world around her, and so says her heart. A small date wouldn't hurt. Riki smiled, staring down at the shorter girl, a smile making it's way to his lips, he so badly wanted to hold her hand in his, talk to her take her on plenty dates. Hopefully he will<3

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

[1tsstargaze59]

OK, I know I said I wouldn't post but like I HYPERFIXED SO HARD THAT HM-

ANXIFEAR FANKID?????

Also some college au anxifear doodles below the cut hehe /TW for slightly suggestive content?? Ever so slightly XD

So basically them ^^^^^ /hj

I love them sm like I was just making a fankid for fun, I DIDNT EXPECT TO LOVE THEM THIS MUCH THO TWT💕💕💕

She's 17, she plays Overwatch, her fav food is cosmic brownies, she's a spelling bee champion and future literature major (I've been thinking about them all weekend-)

Pls be nice to Panic guys, they're TEENAGE CODED‼️and definitely a minor in the college au OK?

Anyway, imma yap about them for a bit now, so you can leave if you're not interested XD

Panic's actual size is this, just a bit taller then his mom (ft.Me intruding on the concept art LMAO)

Their design is based off mainly the little shocked expression sign, yk the 🗯, their hair I saw a design that had this hair style and I really loved it and it made me think of @/re-colligere's design for Professor Terror, aka spy AU Fear, how his prosthetic arm is shaped like a neuron! I thought that was very clever, so I was inspired by that ovob Lastly, we have the concept art for the second movie and the character of Rebellion! They have similar shape language and I knew I wanted to give Panic a different fashion style from her parents. It resulted in an inspiration from street wear and traffic signs, signaling how Panic is slightly~ well dangerous XD

Personality wise, Panic is very calm surprisingly! They talk sparingly, only when they want a specific idea conveyed to others; this usually results in them intruding on conversations with really unsettling statements ^^""" They hang out under headquarters with the other complex emotions, usually just entertaining themselves, reading, playing, napping; I suggest you not do anything to... brutal? Or loud around them, they are very sensitive and if ANYTHING triggers them, THEY CAN SPEND A REALLY LONG TIME JUST YELLING until someone manages to calm them down. ^^"" The comfort blanket is a gift from auntie Ennui, I'll draw them with the rest of the fam later ^^

[duskstargazer]

[1935]

The big green engine groaned, as the cranes carefully lifted him from the broken rails and debris of wagons. Something warm and tasting of copper dripped onto his upper lip.

“You’ll be alright, Henry.” Judy tried to sound confident and uplifting, but it was clear neither she nor Jerome had ever dealt with a wreck this bad.

“Oh, thank God you’re alive…”

That voice surprised Henry. The Fat Controller stood in the snow between the tracks, looking mournfully up at his big green engine.

“Th… the signal was down, sir…” Henry rasped, his voice dry and hoarse. It hurt to talk.

I don’t care what caused this disaster, Henry.” Sir Topham Hatt cut in. He had a hard look in his eyes. “I’m just glad to see you’re not…” He trailed off.

“…Beyond repair?”

The stout gentleman bit his lip. “About that. Our workshop here can give you the repairs you need, but it will be a long time. And that’s without all the renovation work that’s been going on there.”

“But,” he continued, “I’ve gotten in touch with a friend of mine from the old days. You probably don’t know him, but he and I were close in our Swindon years. He said that he could have you rebuilt to the design of one of his new mixed-traffic engines. You’d be a different engine, and wouldn’t need Welsh Coal anymore. But I’ll leave the choice to you.”

Henry was silent for a moment. He considered the controller’s words, as his wheels landed gently on the well wagon.

‘Won’t that be nice…?’

Henry grimaced, and tried to dispel the strange voice in his smokebox.

“Where would you be sending me? And how long would I be gone?”

“Crewe, and he said the work would take about four months.”

Henry bit his lip. It felt raw.

“I want to go to Crewe, please.”

[mariacallous]

Next year will be Big Tech’s finale. Critique of Big Tech is now common sense, voiced by a motley spectrum that unites opposing political parties, mainstream pundits, and even tech titans such as the VC powerhouse Y Combinator, which is singing in harmony with giants like a16z in proclaiming fealty to “little tech” against the centralized power of incumbents.

Why the fall from grace? One reason is that the collateral consequences of the current Big Tech business model are too obvious to ignore. The list is old hat by now: centralization, surveillance, information control. It goes on, and it’s not hypothetical. Concentrating such vast power in a few hands does not lead to good things. No, it leads to things like the CrowdStrike outage of mid-2024, when corner-cutting by Microsoft led to critical infrastructure—from hospitals to banks to traffic systems—failing globally for an extended period.

Another reason Big Tech is set to falter in 2025 is that the frothy AI market, on which Big Tech bet big, is beginning to lose its fizz. Major money, like Goldman Sachs and Sequoia Capital, is worried. They went public recently with their concerns about the disconnect between the billions required to create and use large-scale AI, and the weak market fit and tepid returns where the rubber meets the AI business-model road.

It doesn’t help that the public and regulators are waking up to AI’s reliance on, and generation of, sensitive data at a time when the appetite for privacy has never been higher—as evidenced, for one, by Signal’s persistent user growth. AI, on the other hand, generally erodes privacy. We saw this in June when Microsoft announced Recall, a product that would, I kid you not, screenshot everything you do on your device so an AI system could give you “perfect memory” of what you were doing on your computer (Doomscrolling? Porn-watching?). The system required the capture of those sensitive images—which would not exist otherwise—in order to work.

Happily, these factors aren’t just liquefying the ground below Big Tech’s dominance. They’re also powering bold visions for alternatives that stop tinkering at the edges of the monopoly tech paradigm, and work to design and build actually democratic, independent, open, and transparent tech. Imagine!

For example, initiatives in Europe are exploring independent core tech infrastructure, with convenings of open source developers, scholars of governance, and experts on the political economy of the tech industry.

And just as the money people are joining in critique, they’re also exploring investments in new paradigms. A crop of tech investors are developing models of funding for mission alignment, focusing on tech that rejects surveillance, social control, and all the bullshit. One exciting model I’ve been discussing with some of these investors would combine traditional VC incentives (fund that one unicorn > scale > acquisition > get rich) with a commitment to resource tech’s open, nonprofit critical infrastructure with a percent of their fund. Not as investment, but as a contribution to maintaining the bedrock on which a healthy tech ecosystem can exist (and maybe get them and their limited partners a tax break).

Such support could—and I believe should—be supplemented by state capital. The amount of money needed is simply too vast if we’re going to do this properly. To give an example closer to home, developing and maintaining Signal costs around $50 million a year, which is very lean for tech. Projects such as the Sovereign Tech Fund in Germany point a path forward—they are a vehicle to distribute state funds to core open source infrastructures, but they are governed wholly independently, and create a buffer between the efforts they fund and the state.

Just as composting makes nutrients from necrosis, in 2025, Big Tech’s end will be the beginning of a new and vibrant ecosystem. The smart, actually cool, genuinely interested people will once again have their moment, getting the resources and clearance to design and (re)build a tech ecosystem that is actually innovative and built for benefit, not just profit and control. MAY IT BE EVER THUS!

[what-bot]

Program sense headcanons in Tron.

I have many so there's a readmore

Programs have different senses or level of sensitivity based on their function. They can change if upgraded; Tron shares some of his monitor senses with Beck using the disc

Programs designed to monitor a system or involved in communication have heightened senses, and a lot of processing capacity for them. Some programs are designed to get a broad idea of everything, while others are more specialised

Some see the program equivalent of shrimp colours - seeing radio waves is common in tower guardians or those who communicate with the internet.

Programs do not have a sense of smell

Less of a sense of taste than humans (they usually just eat energy, which tastes mostly similar. They can tell if it’s poisoned. Like irl, water from different taps tastes different but not by much.)

They DO have electroperception, and some have thermoception. Same with grid wildlife like bits.

A combination of the two above things lets monitors do that footprint-seeing thing that Dyson and Rinzler do (even if not directly linked in to be able to see system logs for that area)

Structures and vehicles give off different electrical frequencies. Programs whose function is related to those buildings can sense them, and receive signals from that which can hold information and helps them know where to go like they're ants following pheromone trails. e.g. programs in charge of the trains will have Train Sense

Messing with the above is totally what they used to control people in frame of mind

Programs also have their own signature they can use to tell each other apart

Electrical signals as nonverbal communication. Can communicate with Bits or Bytes this way

This thing that electric fish do called jamming avoidance

Programs can be linked with each other, common in counterparts or parent/child pairings (as in the computer version of parent and child), and share information with each other over the link like telepathy

Full black circuit-covering suits like Rinzler’s are stealthy both due to not giving off light, and masking the electrical signature of a program. They can disguise themselves as others using a similar principle

Users give off electricity, so they seem like a program to other programs on first glance, but those who know what to look for can tell the difference. Given it’s used in communication, programs can get confused talking to users as their electrical impulses don’t follow the same rules, but they can loosely interpret them with practice

Imagining Tron or other monitors getting sensory overload if network traffic is too high, or if in the outside world and standing among a bunch of computers/phones/servers/radio towers etc.

Programs in the outside world get pretty much none of the electrical feedback they’re used to, which can be unsettling for them

Idk how it would be different for Isos. I imagine there’d be a lot of similarities but their senses adapt/change based on their circumstances - getting stronger when needed and weaker when not