#What are the 4 types of programming language? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ittybittyfanblog · 7 months ago

Text

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 4

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (vindicated!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, player wants to sock a certain 3D character in the face A/N: Here’s part 4! Also, a taglist at the end of this post! Just lmk whether you'd like to be added/removed, no sweat ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ Happy reading!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

You swiftly pull up Reddit. And then Twitter (X) on another window. You’ve got to find answers.

Typing in “sENTIENT SENTINCE SENTIENCE LADS ML HELP” in the r/LoveAndDeepspace subreddit search bar, along with keywords that have anything to do with “breaking the fourth wall” and “recent major updates” on X, you quickly scour for anything that comes even close to your current situation.

Immediately, you see a bunch of mix-match results, some even dating as far as the first month of the game’s release. Your eyes skim through blocks of texts, hoping there’s a comment – or a tweet – somewhere that could shed some light to this conundrum.

Already, you see some discussion on sudden fourth wall breaks. But you’ve seen posts like this before, and they’re most likely pertaining to the way their LI’s gaze falls directly on the player’s line of sight when they’re in Dynamic Pose mode in Glint Photobooth.

The common suspects for this are usually Xavier and your resident headache (Sylus). It's one of the “known” bugs of the game, even so far as being choreographed, almost, from the way players intentionally pose the MLs at certain angles to attain the likeness of sentience.

You remember the first time it happened to you, way back when the Photobooth feature was just recently introduced. You were taking photos of Xavier—letting him pose freely in dynamic mode so that you could capture a more organic look, when his eyes “met” yours directly.

Of course like any other (delusional) player, you entertained the novel idea of actually being noticed by the videogame character you’ve formed an unhealthy attachment to. Got excited, squealed over it, felt an instant doki-doki on your kokoro—the whole shebang.

… Along with probably hundreds of other players who’ve experienced the same thing.

So, yes, these instances occur more frequently than one would think. Not really what you’d call particularly noteworthy.

Then you see the threads from players who swear that their LIs really understand how they feel during their tête-à-tête sessions. It sounds promising, and you spend a few minutes reading through their "testimonies."

—Until you surmise from what you’ve gathered that all of them only appear like they do. How Rafayel, Zayne (and yes, even Sylus) seem to know what they need to hear, from how accurate their generated responses are.

Keyword: generated. So, no. They still aren’t anything more than glorified soundboards with really good timing, however attractive it may be to think otherwise.

Ooh, that one sounds a little too bitchy, even for you.

It’s got nothing to do with the players, nor has it anything to do with how the game works, really— bugs and all. Fuck, you were one of those people who milked the fantasy over the same coincidences once upon a time. You were. Before the coincidences started to be anything but.

Before you had to worry whether you still have your mental faculties in order.

With every—misleading—post you stumble upon, you feel yourself becoming more restless. There’s a fervent glaze in your eyes and your typing’s getting diabolically worse. (you could barely read that last search input–bitch, how are you fit to work?) You’re sure that if you looked in a mirror right now, you’d look as deranged as you feel.

Xavier “bug” that looks so real omg?? Skip.

Sylus – New Voiceline? You check it out. Yeah, It’s just one of his newer—programmed—voicelines.

Conversations with Rafayel got ~too real~ all of a sudden. You wish that yours had stayed the way they’ve always been, but alas.

Stop feeding into my delusions [Zayne] challenge: Failed. Oh? You’re almost done reading the first paragraph of the Redditor’s post, when you catch sight of the latest update below:

Resolved. Uninstalled the game. Multi-banners are getting too expensive (See my other post). Okay, you respect that. Hear that, Infold—

You’re slowly losing hope. Clearly, your case is kind of… mayhaps a tiny bit… different. From the rest. Dare say, exceptionally so.

To what end, you don’t know. You’re left with more questions than answers, and the primary enigma isn’t giving you much to work with.

Without anything else left to do, you resort to mindless scrolling. You’re swiping up, scrolling endlessly through the Top Posts of All Time, and it feels like you’re about to reach the end of this damn subreddit… When an unassuming post from a deleted user catches your attention.

It only got a few upvotes, and barely enough comments to gain traction. Unless one’s desperate enough to have been looking as hard as you are, it just looks like one of the many random dead posts from months ago. Nothing special.

Even the title is unassuming: I think the game’s broken??

You start to read.

Hi, so uhhh I’m 2 months in the game and everything’s been going well and all… Until a few days ago. IDK if this is a bug ?? but my Rafayel’s been acting so weird lately….. Ik I’m gonna sound delusional, but it’s like he’s actually aware of me ME. Not my MC.

He’s got a bunch of new dialogues, and they’re all so accurately specific it’s creeping me tf out LMAO. IDK how the devs got THIS much info on me (like is this even legal) but they do. Or at least, Rafayel does? That sounds rly stupid out loud but yeah lol. Oh and he doesn’t even let me switch between MLs anymore. The game just… crashes? whenever I try to.

Always been a Rafayel main (he’s the reason why I installed the game in the first place) so I was REALLY ecstatic over what I thought were new updates from the game… buuut when I tried looking it up, I can’t find any related news from the official LADS channel(s) about recent patches or updates with this feature, and no one seems to know what I’m talking about???

I feel like I’m going crazy… Literally as I’m typing this, Rafayel’s spamming me with notifications. He’s so fucking clingy… I love it??

Plsplspls if anyone’s experiencing the same thing, comment or DM meee. I need someone to talk to, aside from the fishie lmao no matter how much he insists that he’s enough omg (?!?!!)

Holy shit— you can’t believe it. This… this is exactly what you’re looking for.

The six comments under the post ranged from calling it complete bull to outright mocking the OP, and you understand why the post didn’t get any more popular.

For a brief moment, you feel a certain kinship with the original poster. A tinge of… shame (?) washes over you as you scan through all the negative reception; it’s as if the harsh insults were hurled directly at you instead.

How fun. There goes your fleeting idea to post the same question on the forum, if all else fails.

Speaking of. Your eyes quickly dart to the small text just above the title to check their username—but to your utter dismay, you see (and remember) that it’s from a deleted account.

The user no longer exists.

God, that can’t be it.

You spend a solid twenty minutes trying to look up ways to retrieve information—contacts, socials, anything—from deleted accounts. No dice.

Deep in your gut, you know that whatever else you could possibly find on both apps wouldn’t compare to what you’ve already come across.

You’ve officially hit a dead end.

With heavy limbs and a downtrodden spirit, you haul yourself up from the floor—just to turn around and collapse face first on the sofa. A deep, drawn-out groan escapes you as you shut your eyes, trying to calm yourself down from all the stuff that’s been boggling your brain.

It doesn’t seem like you’ll be finding a solid answer to your question (questions, in plural) any time soon. So what else can you do?

Well, aside from putting away your groceries; the currently-thawing fish and the condensing bags of pre-cut veggies aren’t going to store themselves inside a freezer anytime soon. A loudly meowing ball of fur has also been relentlessly clawing at your leg at the foot of the sofa for the past five minutes, demanding to be fed and petted.

Whoops. You hastily push yourself back on your feet to address these pressing tasks pronto.

…

…..

(Now that’s out of the way—)

You swipe your phone open—yet again—as you flop back onto the couch. And, maybe, you’re a glutton for punishment. Maybe you’re just a little too over the excitement of the unknown factors in play. Or maybe, you just want another shot– to try one last time—

What you know, though, is that whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed about stuff at work, or you need something to distract yourself with, you open the silly otome game on your phone to make yourself feel better.

So. That’s exactly what you do. Even if that silly otome game’s now the reason why you’re feeling so goddamned stressed at the moment.

Go figure.

The game boots up. You sullenly glare at the loading bar as it progresses from 35%....

68%....

95%.........

Once again, Sylus_v1.0 (!) greets you from the center of the home screen, looking exactly the same as he did last when you opened the app, which was— damn, has it really been over three hours already?

“At this hour, the day is just getting started,” he remarks nonchalantly, folding his arms across his chest as his eyes drift to whatever’s on his left.

You give him a dead-eyed stare; slightly wary, but overall unimpressed by the act. “God, I hope the fuck not.”

There’s no new content since your last proper login, as far as you can tell. At first glance, you see some of the regular, daily badge notifications, but nothing really stands out to you. There’s no unexpected red dot on the mail icon this time, nor is there any on the Hunter Info tab.

So far, so good.

With slight hesitation, you begin to speak, even if you aren’t sure whether your intended recipient can actually hear you or not.

“Um, so. I’m really kinda freaking out right now and–” You cut yourself off, swallowing down the frustration building in your throat. There’s an edge to your voice as you speak your next words, “it’s because you’re– you’ve been giving me mixed signals. I–I don’t know what to think anymore–!”

He remains unmoving, showing no signs of having registered what you just said. You sigh.

“Ugh, it sounds like I’m talking to an actual boyfriend or something. This is driving me nuts.”

Still no response.

“Can’t you give me a sign?” You whine defeatedly, trying to catch the eye of the pixelated man on your phone who’s resolutely looking at the right side of the screen. Is he purposely avoiding eye contact or what? “Like… I don’t know—blink twice if you understand what I’m saying right now.”

He blinks. Once. Fucking—

Does he think this is some kind of joke?

“I’m gonna poke your dick off,” You threaten him menacingly, your pointer finger at the ready to commit assault. “I swear, I’m gonna do it—”

Wait. Was that a twitch on his lips?

Pausing, you narrow your eyes at him, critical in your scrutiny for any sign that might reveal the truth to this stupid charade he’s putting on. Because it’s a charade. It has to be.

All of a sudden, embarrassment colors your cheeks as it dawns on you what you just said to him. What you’re poised to do. Fuck, you just wanted to get a rise out of him. Test the waters or some shit. Then again, if he’s actually aware– if he CAN actually hear you—

Quickly, you retract your finger away from where it hovers precariously centimeters above his crotch area. “Right. Sorry.”

Scrunching your nose, you press the Agenda icon on the corner, resignation sitting heavy in your chest. Since it doesn’t look like you’re getting any answers tonight, you might as well just do your daily tasks while you’re in-game, right?

So you go through the motions of ticking off each task on the list half-heartedly, collecting the subsequent rewards one by one; just enough to reach the hundred star mark.

It’s petty, no doubt irrational, but you steer clear from anything that would require you to interact with him. You start off with what’s easiest to complete: gifting Stamina, spending Stamina, spending more Stamina, and buying items from the Shop.

Speaking of items… You try your best to act indifferent as you catch sight of the staggering number of red dias that has recently come to your possession, there on the upper right corner of the screen. Before you could even recall the other materials so kindly gifted to you the other night, you immediately exit the Store window to go about your business after you’ve finished collecting today’s free loot.

You breeze through the Bounty Hunts and Core Hunt stages with excessive use of the Auto Pursuit option, rinsing and repeating until you’re almost out of energy. You don’t want to risk playing an actual battle, since your strongest Memory Cards are from the man you’re currently giving the cold shoulder to.

Also, you have no idea what to expect once you enter combat mode—and right now, you can’t be damned to know.

Before you know it, you’re done with the daily Agenda. Close enough, at least. You didn’t even have to interact with the white-haired male LYLA wannabe to get the hundred golden stars. Go, you.

Without anything left to do, you’re back to staring at the—now-seated—man on the home screen who’s still intent on avoiding you. There’s Mephisto perched on his finger, appearing in a plume of black feathers, projecting a holographic screen for the Onychinus leader to scroll through whatever evil juju he’s been up to lately—the very picture of calm detachment.

Almost a minute passes by.

You can’t help it. Poke. Pokepokepokepoke—

“Once you’re trapped in life’s banality, the only thing left is “staying alive.”"

“Oh, for the love of— is that a hint or not?!”

You really wish you could’ve talked to the person on Reddit about this. Ask them whether their version of Rafayel had also been this difficult, this uncooperative. It can’t be that different from what you’re dealing with, could it?

Just a chance to talk… You brood wistfully. To know what’s happening to them right now. Ask them for advice on how to provoke some type of reactio–

Suddenly, something clicks in your brain, and you almost bite your tongue to prevent the spark of anticipation from showing on your face.

"Alright, you win," you concede with an exaggerated sigh, raising your arms over your head to appear as if you’re simply stretching away the stiffness in your muscles. You try to inject as much reluctance in your tone. “You’re really not going to budge, huh?”

Again, you’re met with radio silence—not that you’re expecting a response at this point.

(Well, not yet.)

“That’s fine…” You trail off deliberately, drawing lazy lines across the screen with your pointer finger, until it stops right before the small message icon on the left.

With feigned innocence, you muse, “Hey, I wonder how Xavier's been doing lately.”

…

A beat. You almost believe nothing would come out of your last, and obvious, attempt at goading him but then—

Sylus throws his head back with a sigh, casting an almost exasperated glance at the ceiling. He flicks his wrist dismissively, and Mephisto vanishes in a puff of dark smoke. There’s an unsettling fluidity in the way his gaze shifts toward you; disconcertingly lifelike, when his eyes finally—finally—lock onto yours. An intensity behind those red eyes that makes the look feel unnervingly deliberate.

Your breath catches in your throat. There it is. The reaction you’re looking for.

A weary amusement frames the way he tilts his head sideways—with the way the corners of his mouth curve into a mocking smile, eyes never leaving yours.

He raises an eyebrow up as if to say, now what?

“I knew it,” you whisper shakily, eyes widening into saucers. “I fucking knew it.”

“Mm, took you long enough.”

Before you could even react to that, Sylus flashes you a two-finger salute and winks.

The game crashes.

“Oh, no, you don’t–" you growl, not wasting any second tapping the game icon again. It doesn’t even give you a chance to reach the main menu before it glitches, and you’re back staring at the widgets on your phone’s home screen. “Motherfucker.”

You keep trying.

And with every attempt, Sylus, freak of nature that he is, responds with another system crash. On the eight try, you succeed on entering the game and you feel a sense of relief seeing the loading bar—before, lo and behold, it crashes once more.

Your left eye twitches. Inhaling deeply, you hold your breath for a solid fifteen seconds before sharply exhaling through your nose.

You jab a finger on the icon of his dumb face again. You ought to change that shit as soon as this game of chicken lets up.

“You’re gonna let me open this app, Sy-Sy,” You sang with faux cheer. “Or, swear to god, I’m uninstalling this thing before you could even—”

… It loads successfully before you could even finish your sentence.

“Alright, alright.”

There he is; closer to the screen now, wearing a faint smile, as though trying to stifle a full-on grin from breaking across his face. He looks thoroughly entertained by the entire situation, like it’s the most fun he’s had in ages. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“You–you—” Sputtering, you glare at him, betrayal in your eyes. “You’re a fucking ass!”

“And you’re an absolute delight to play with, kitten,” Sylus coos at you, his smirk widening.

But when he catches the trembling jut on your bottom lip, the amused glint in his eyes softens into something that almost seems sympathetic—and dare you say, apologetic?

“For what it’s worth, I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to tell you. I couldn’t resist teasing you a little—but looking at you now, I see I might’ve taken it too far,” he murmurs, bowing his head slightly in a show of contrition. “I’m sorry, little dove.”

You press your lips together, your gaze darting away from the screen. “I thought I was going crazy.” As opposed to now? “B-but, um– it’s all good, I guess.”

A flush creeps up your neck when you hear him chuckle.

Fuck, this is really happening, the hysterical thought rushes to your mind, unbidden. Chat, what’s the plan?

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 <3

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #sylus x non mc reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

1K notes · View notes

keferon · 5 months ago

Note

Odds of Survival Part 4

Jazz thinks he’s starting to figure stuff out and finds entirely new ways to concern Prowl.

———————————————————————

The flashing visual feedback from the cracked visor felt like his brain was being used for target practice by a middle schooler with a BB gun and the school just canceled pizza day forever.

Jazz was feeling pretty grateful to Prowl right now. Between the glitching visual feed and the misshapen state of his feet, Jazz wasn’t totally confident he could get into the mecha cradle on his own.

At least not without stumbling around like he was completely plastered and trying to decipher a fancy ass hotels space age shower controls.

Seriously, seven different knobs and a touch screen.

Blurr. Dude. Why.

As Prowl walked him through the outpost, Jazz continually got snapshots of his surroundings. Doorway, hallway, door again, room. Another mecha was inside.

At a glance, they looked like the same class type as Prowl. Face, wing thingy’s, and wheels. All the same but with a slightly different color scheme of red and grey.

Jazz was slowly working out what class of mecha they were supposed to be. They couldn’t be Striker class. Not with attachments Prowl straight up specified were delicate.

What even were they? They weren’t thrusters. The wings took the place of where car doors were on a regular car. Which, holy shit, Prowls mecha can turn into a fucking car.

Prowl also flexed and twitched them around a bunch, kinda like how Jazz used his horns to emote. Not that Prowl needed wings to emote because holy FUCK that face. It had micro expressions!!

Okay. Prowl had three things that were cool as fuck going on. An expressive face, delicate wings and the ability to turn into a (fucking) car.

What does that mean? Why would someone build a mecha like that?

Ever since Jazz got spat out by the wormhole and woke up surrounded by aliens, he’s felt like his brain has been slowly circling the drain of a sink. There was some missing piece to all of this that he could feel himself just skirting by over and over again.

Oh fuck right. The other aliens. There was alien life other than tentacle monsters out there. They were dicks sure but at least you could share a train car without any murder attempts.

Ooooohhh. Jazz swayed backwards a little as the tilted his head back in realization. Prowl catching him.

Prowl’s mecha was built to work with other fighters in space. He clearly had a life support system to survive in a vacuum. He had a highly expressive face to help communicate with aliens. The wings must be satellites for communication. The car mode was for fast tracking across planet surfaces. Prowl was crazy smart, over and over again Jazz had watched him figure out exactly where they needed to go and how to get there. Of course there was a reason he was so easy to work with. It was his job.

Prowl wasn’t any kind of pre-existing class from Jazz’s mecha program. Prowl was every Strikers pipe dream that kept getting brought up and then thrown out for “not being cost effective”.

Prowl was a Support Class Mecha.

Live on the field, giving real time updates and backup.

Damn.

Whatever shadow government Prowl worked for must be insanely rich. Wonder if they’re taking applications.

Prowl unhooked Jazz’s remaining functional arm from over his shoulders. He maneuvered Jazz to sit on a bench height concrete extension from the floor.

The microphones in his horns were still working fine despite one of them sending many unhappy damage report messages.

“Sit here and don’t move.” From the glimpses Jazz could catch, Prowl looked concerned but focused. Jazz wanted to ask why they didn’t go to some kind of docking station but figured Prowl knew what was up and went along with it.

Jazz could hear the mystery mecha talking. A lot.

It was in that other language Prowl had initially tried talking to Jazz with, except speed up by a bajillion percent.

From the tone, the new mecha was asking Prowl a barrage of questions. Prowl, for his part, replied in short concise sentences or occasionally a silent glare. The other mecha didn’t seem put off by this and merrily continued talking as he lined up another shot through some kind of rail gun setup built into the slit window.

Eventually, the new mecha started directing his questions at him. Apparently stopping to breath wasn’t a thing with this guy.

Jazz did his best to shrug. “Sorry man. No idea what you’re saying.”

Prowl interceded in common, “Jazz, this is Bluestreak.” He waved in the direction of the sniper, who smiled and waved.

“Bluestreak, this is Jazz. He is only just learning Common.” Prowl turned to Bluestreak with a scolding look. “I need to focus on helping him while you focus on the remaining quintessons. Understood?”

“I got it! I got it. I can stop talking when I’m working you know.” Bluestreak nodded and turned back towards the view port, but not without calling over his shoulder, “So Jazz, my brothers face is emotion positive positive positive?”

Oh Jazz could hear the shit eating grin from the other side of the room.

“HAH!” Jazz accidentally knocked his head back against the wall and visor started glitching worse. “Eugh. Eh, worth it.”

“Both of you be quiet or I will separate you.” Prowl threatened.

Jazz, chuckled good naturally but otherwise quieted down. He watched the stop motion footage of Prowl opening some kind of crate and collecting what looked like a tube of glue, a pair of giant tweezers and some kind of mecha sized chrome-mesh duct tape.

His face was suddenly very close and Jazz did not startle. Nope. Who said that?

He felt the pressure of a hand settling on his good shoulder. Prowl was wearing that highly concentrated look again. And Jazz was so focused trying to work out what the internal mechanisms of his eyes were that he missed what Prowl was saying to him.

“Could you say that again? My…uh.”

M’kay, how to translate ‘I definitely have whiplash and maybe also sort of a Concussion’ into common. “Head function negative? Uh, too much motion. Broken but small negative?”

Yeaaaah Prowl did not seem reassured by Jazz’s attempt to downplay his condition. Which meant he nailed the translation! He was so getting at least a B+ in this language class.

Fuck his head hurt.

“I want to help you as much as I can. I am not a person-profession-help. Can I help you with what I have?” Prowl had a little furrow between his eyebrows.

“Sure, I won’t fight you.” Jazz stabilized himself best he could. The sentence must have translated weird, because Prowl looked kinda concerned before pulling out a strip of shiny duct tape.

The winged mecha paused, examining Jazz’s busted shoulder, and then doubled the length of tape.

When Prowl wrapped the mesh textured tape around and just above the breakage, something weird started happening to Jazz’s systems. The Severe Damage Warnings and big bright Error messages Jazz had been actively ignoring for the past half hour started to reduce in number. One by one they all quieted down. Checking his mechas systems, the arm was still marked as compromised, but the ai wasn’t actively screaming into his poor brain anymore.

The quiet was such an overwhelming balm Jazz audibly groaned in relief. “I owe you so, so, many drinks. What is that stuff?”

Prowl stilled, “It is-“ he paused, clearly trying to work out how to translate a complicated term into a common equivalent. “It is a kind of repair mesh. You…you don’t know what repair mesh is?”

Jazz got a snapshot of Prowl and even Bluestreak’s expressions. The sniper looking over his shoulder, eyes wide and mouth open in silent confusion. Prowl’s stare was boring into him, making Jazz squirm.

“Um. Yes? At least it’s not something I’ve ever seen before. I mean, I don’t actually need it if it’s too expensive.” Jazz turned owlishly between the two.

Jazz heard Bluestreak start to make a questioning noise before having his focus be pulled back to the winding down invasion outside. Prowl looked into the distance for a moment, then took up the tweezers. He schooled his expression like he was about to do brain surgery.

“I’m going to work on your helm and visor now. Please hold still.” Prowl placed his hand against the side of his head, stabilizing.

“M’kay. Go ahead.” And Jazz put his mecha into Maintenance Mode.

The lights inside the mecha dimmed down to a low glow. Like this, the engine dropped into an idle hum, and the mecha could only move very slowly. Jazz had to hold a position for a few seconds before anything would respond, giving plenty of time for engineers to move out of the way.

Jazz also shut off the incoming feed from the visor, since looking at a bright flashing screen was probably on the list of things you’re not supposed to do while concussed. As well as fall asleep. Or operate heavy machinery.

Two out of three ain’t bad. Call it another B+.

Jazz felt like he might be dropping a letter grade soon though. He usually associated Maintenance Mode with being bored out of his mind, but after the insane last few hour’s, the slow quiet was practically a spa session.

It didn’t hurt that Jazz could feel Prowls hand cradling the side of his head. Technically, the mechas could only sense pressure. No heat. No texture. Given a reference point though, the human brain was pretty fantastic at filling in the gaps.

It felt warm. And soft.

“Jazz?” Prowl stopped what he’d been doing.

Ah.

Jazz came back into full awareness from where he’d been drifting off. He was pressing into Prowls hand.

“Sorry, sorry.” He lethargically pulled away. How do you explain “Hey! Sorry about pushing against you like a stray cat! I’m just kinda super into piloting mecha and being held like that is kind of a novel experience.” in a completely foreign language you learned that morning?

Jazz dragged his ass back upright.

“I’m not, uh, familiar? With a hold like that. Touch-positive. Normally I only feel touch-fight or touch-medical.” Jazz meant to say touch-maintenance, but he was already rambling and for some reason the words were really similar in Common.

Prowl didn’t respond.

Jazz felt his chest tighten. “Prowl?”

“I’m here.” Prowl said quickly. There was an edge of static to his voice.

He didn’t remove his hand. “I’m still here.”

The rest of Jazz’s maintenance went by quietly. Prowl kept his hand where it was for the majority of it, only repositioning once to tilt his head back while working on the cracks of his visor.

Jazz wasn’t 100% sure why Prowl indulged him. Maybe got it? Or maybe he just thought Jazz was passing out and needed to be grounded. Okay yeah, that actually makes the most sense. Plus it was also what literally happened.

Eventually, the pilots heart finally slowed to a resting rate. Mostly. Jazz kept jerking awake.

If falling asleep with a concussion was bad, then falling asleep with a concussion while piloting a mecha would probably do very bad things to his lightly fried meatball of a brain.

He tried remembering what he could of his mandatory pilot safety course he took with Ratchet before the doctor left the program. He mostly remembered sneaking out.

It was fortunate then the pilot was just delirious enough that every time he almost conked out, the spiritual embodiment of Ratchet would scare the fuck out of him.

Thanks Ratchet.

See? I did learn something.

He heard a tarp rustling, and then his busted arm was being manipulated. Jazz brought his visor back online, pleased to see it wasn’t flashing anymore. His vision was a little distorted in the corner on the left side but he could deal with that.

When he looked around, Prowl was in the process of tying makeshift sling in place to keep his damaged bits from jostling around.

Jazz also got a good look at the emblem on his mecha’s chest. It kinda looked like an angular mecha face. Jazz didn’t recognize brand design though. Maybe he’d remember once he’d recovered from the bullshit of the day.

He was kinda too tired to think properly at the moment. That circling-the-sink-drain feeling hadn’t actually left, even with the Support Class revelation.

“That is the best I can do for now. Our ship should arrive in five breems.” Prowl hesitantly let go of Jazz.

“Thanks Prowler, you’re the best.” He wriggled now free horns at him. Incrementally, Jazz brought his systems back online, running through well practiced motions to ensure everything was working. Well, everything that was supposed to be working anyways.

He heard a raspberry being blown by Bluestreak, the mecha had his hands on his knees and he was looking from Jazz to Prowl.

“Prowler?”

Prowl frowned. “Yes?”

“Prow-ler.”

Prowl frowned harder, “I’m aware.”

Bluestreak straightened up, “Okay, you’ve delayed this long enough. I need to talk to this guy one on one. Go talk to the Big Boss and I’ll watch Jazz. Please mech. I gotta. I gotta talk to this guy or I’m going to explode. Like, where is he from? Why does he look like that? How’d he end up floating in space? What’s his native language? Does he know any other languages? Why has he never heard of Common before? Is he super young? How are the others gonna react? What are you going to say to Elita? Oh Elita says hi by the way. Or, not really, she said ‘contact me as soon as possible’ and then hung up on me. Which is fine. Oh but you should seriously respond to you-know-who first.”

Jazz was getting maybe every third word of that. Bluestreak was still going. Wow. Impressive breath control no lie.

Prowl visibly sighed, straightening his posture into something military grade. Immune to the conversation tornado.

“Jazz, I must speak with our factions leader. I will not mention you to him until you have a better understanding of our military structure and you are able to choose to engage.” Prowl kept his hands folded behind his back. The total shift in body language was jarring.

“Okay,” Jazz nodded slowly. “I’ll be here, thanks again.”

Prowl nodded curtly once before shooting a warning look at Bluestreak, and then left the room.

The loss was weird in a way Jazz couldn’t properly describe. Prowl was so easy to click with that once he was gone, Jazz remembered he was stranded in deep space surrounded by what were effectively perfect strangers.

He didn’t get to dwell on it long though, as Bluestreak sidled up to him, propping his chin on one hand.

“So! I’ll let you go first. Ask me anything and I’ll tell you all about it!”

Jazz had a lot of questions but figured he’d start with something basic to help along his language acquisition.

“What,” he poked Bluestreak in his purple badge, “Are your cuss words?”

———————————————————————

Prowl: What do you mean you are actually capable of experiencing pain?

Prowl: What do you mean you don’t know what local anesthetic is?

Prowl: What do you mean no one has ever touched you when it didn’t involve medical treatment??

Prowl: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’VE GONE THROUGH MEDICAL TREATMENT WITHOUT ANESTHETIC.

Man oh man, this is the end of this arc but there’s more I still want to write. Gonna start cataloguing and saving these as well.

-SSTP

OH MY GOD. OH NO. Oh my god

Yeah no that makes SO much sense khftugssujdsthdd. Without that one little important piece of information their understanding of each other. Oh man. It's not just bad. It's FANTASTICALLY wrong but somehow generally still in the vaguely right direction??

Like Jazz being regularly medically mistreated is kind of true BUT NOT IN THE WAY YOU THINK PROWL

And Prowl being that sweet sweet support class mecha?? FUKFDEY Y e ah.

Oh this is amazing. Oh thIS IS FUCKING GREAT SSTP I WILL DIE FOR YOU

#Blurr. Dude. Why #H E L P #IKFSIKNDDGNXDIKFDG #Yea Blurr would have a touch screen in his shower 100%#maccadam #mecha pilot jazz au #mecha writing #mecha jp writing #jazzprowl

746 notes · View notes

adambja · 1 year ago

Text

✴️THE SUBCONSCIOUS MIND✴️

The Guide - the only post you will ever need to understand how your subconscious mind works!

1. Time isn't real

Let me break it to you! Time isn't real at all cuz think about it all these hours and numbers are made by humans!

But how?!

They just track how the earth moves around the sun and that's all

Yes without time there will be morning and night and still these hours aren't real

As in whole THE UNIVERSE!! TIME DOESN'T EXIST IF YOU AREN'T ON THE EARTH!

which GETS US TO THAT ONE POINT

SUBCONSCIOUS MIND REPROGRAMMING DOESN'T TAKE 21 DAYS OR ANY TIME

Subconscious mind reprogramming is instant

That's why I always add it to my tapes as benefits and that's why I made the benefits! cuz it bypasses the conscious mind and it makes it easier for your subconscious to make it reality!

So basically it all comes down to what you assume!!

2. Languages

I got that question a lot about what if I can't speak English, will the affirmations work?

Yes ofc they will

whatever it's affirmations only or my tapes

Even if you make your own tapes it will work!!

3. Thoughts

Is it really "it is what it is"?

Yes, it is what it is

For ex.

if you think you already got 50k US DOLLARS you already have it it's that simple (like that success story a girl experienced with one of my free tapes she manifested 50k US DOLLARS! - also this one success story - The tape is on YouTube btw)

Again it all comes down to what you assume!

4. Assuming

Assuming hmmm... Do you know that all your thoughts are assumptions?

But there are two things about these thoughts!

Did you assume that they are real and true?

Do you assume that whatever you want is already achieved?

Do you assume that you are always right?

Or did you assume that it can't happen cuz you think you are lying!

Just be honest with yourself

Get a piece of paper and write everything you think about down ABOUT A SPECIFIC MANIFESTATION YOU GOT ON YOUR MIND!

And if you think you are lying why? Ask yourself! Make all that noise go away and clear it for yourself! You deserve better

Now this gets us to another point which is your manifesting self-concept and your self-concept they are very important for ur existence like they are the core of your life! So a little advice work on them then do whatever you want!

Cuz it changes the way you think and what you assume

So like a person with a bad or mid self-concept they will always assume the worst for themselves

Another person with a good self-concept they will be aware of who they are and what they are capable of!

5. Thoughts, Feelings and beliefs!

Again and again

How you feel is created by thought

Subconscious programming → beliefs → feelings → thoughts

So if you keep saying "oh I am sad" multiple times you will be sad it's just that simple

Use it for your own good!

And imagine what... Right now

Your beliefs will reflect in your reality after one thought instantly after reading this post so be careful cuz i already manifested this while typing this!

And listen to in control tape by me on YouTube!

Basically you can always create beliefs instantly cuz you believe that time isn't real... Did you know what we are doing here? Just assuming the best for us but you still have to be constant to get used to it and make it a part of your programming like everyday

Someone like me I enter the void every time I nap and sleep I got used to it and I don't even feel tired anymore when I wake up there and I don't use it that much anymore!

I literally enjoy how easy it is in life to do whatever I want and experience whatever I want!

6. Simple assumptions to have a good relationship with your subconscious mind

I will give you 10 affirmations from my paid subconscious mind tape at the end (I know it won't be the same as the tape itself because of the benefits but still it might help you guys!)

Do you know that your subconscious mind is here for you like a parent it's like your personal assistant - it has everything about you, your memories and it controls ur whole life it accepts every single thought you think about unless you say it it's not something you accept so it gets in your subconscious mind like "oh I don't accept this"

Even the negative statements your subconscious mind knows it negative!! Same thing with the positive statements

Like for ex.

I am not a bad person - negative statement

Your subconscious mind acknowledges it!

Your subconscious mind won't take it in like "I am a bad person" without the "not"

Even the same thing with

I am a good person - positive statement

Your subconscious mind acknowledges it TOO

The subconscious mind ACCEPTS THE NEGATIVE STATEMENTS TOO!

IT IS simply WHAT IT IS!!

It's not the opposite at all as some weird bloggers said! Or even that book about the subconscious mind it's called "the power of the subconscious mind by Joseph Murphy" it's full of bs and limiting beliefs - I genuinely hate it

I literally saw a coach in Saudi Arabia on X (PREVIOUSLY Twitter) selling a whole course for almost 30k USD and sharing all the limiting beliefs in that book and that was months ago!

I mean at least IF YOU ARE MAKING PEOPLE PAY FOR SOMETHING PROVIDE THEM WITH THE BEST THINGS AND INFORMATION

I hated how some people let some crazy stuff like that get to them without doing their own research or just creating their own rules!!

Be a little independent please for your own good

Your subconscious mind can be programmed instantly YOU DON'T NEED ANY TIME all you need to realize and understand is that yes "I always reprogram my subconscious mind instantly" and YOU JUST NEED comfort and just repeating the affs - this is a way

Another way to do it - make your own tapes and it's just repetition

Another way to do it - simply be it be whatever you want to be! Like it's already you!

One last way to do it - my free tapes + paid tapes they are very effective they work from the first listen because they have benefits again what actually made my tapes get that much success stories is the benefits

I am gonna upload 2 new free tapes they are small but very effective! Everyone here will like them!!

🎀10 Affirmations for your subconscious mind🎀

from my paid subconscious mind tape

Affirmations:

Me and my subconscious mind are one.

My subconscious mind already accepts everything I say as true.

My subconscious mind already accepts everything think about as true.

My subconscious mind is already my best friend forever.

My subconscious mind always helps me with everything.

My subconscious mind always loves me.

My subconscious mind always helps me reach my highest potential in this lifetime!

My subconscious mind already believes what I want it to believe easily effortlessly quickly and instantly.

My subconscious mind always manifests everything I want easily effortlessly and instantly.

I have a perfect relationship with my subconscious mind.

Thank you guys for all the support and love and I hope this post helped you!

If you have any questions you can always send an ask I will be happy to answer them whenever I am free! Also you can dm me if you want a paid tape or a custom tape!

One last thing these tapes are with benefits they aren't like any other tapes that are available everywhere these days! 🎀

Enjoy!💗

740 notes · View notes

dead-generations · 1 month ago

Note

Your post on bluey mentioned that your biosecurity-focused customs agents are far less ideologically anti-immigration than one would expect; is there just a strong filtering for that type in whoever is enforcing the migrant detainment islands?

this is just a misunderstanding of how migration works in australia, confusing it for what happens in america. point blank: australians are not worried about illegal migration because that does not happen. australians concerned with migration are concerned with 1 quantity of perfectly legal migration (typically as a function of housing costs, sometimes as wage supression) 2 the economic dependence on student migrants specifically 3 the use of easy to access temporary visas to transition into permanent migration, mainly through (at least previously) fraudulent schools set up specifically to launder student-visa-to-permanent-residency 4 sometimes as a function of specifically anti indian racism

so the idea that airport security cares at all about why 99% of people are coming here is just silly. There just aren't people coming here without visas. They will be looking for smuggling of goods, which IS a real problem at airports. And there is a racialised element to that - lebs and yobs are screened for smuggling cigarettes, and indians, viets and chinese are profiled for smuggling in biosecurity risks. which doesn't typically lead to deportation or detention, just to your shit being trashed and being slapped with fat fines. Though ciggy smugglers do go to trial, iirc. This is universally viewed as a matter of vital national security, and frankly thats not an exaggeration. if anything we are too lax. The customs people are dickhead control freaks in my experience, with no sense of humour and a lot of self importance, which is not typical for australians

but there are the migrant islands, so lets talk about those. first, where do they come from? the only way to illegally sneak into australia is by boat - and australia has had a maximal deterrent program against boat migration for over a decade, actually since 01 i think. If you come by boat you will never, ever, ever be allowed into australia on asylum or any other pathway. they publicise this in indonesia, thailand, sri lanka etc in the native languages in posters and advertising, also emphasizing risk to your life, claims that the majority of people die and that people smugglers are lying to you.

the few boats that still come here (i dont think there have been many in YEARS) are in for a very, very bad time because they mean what they say. you are rounded up and shipped off of australia to one of a handful of island detention centers where you will waste away for god knows how long. I think some have just been abandoned forever.

I know someone who worked at one of these detention centres, one of the processing ones before people are shipped to christmas island. she was a nurse. She was haunted by the experience. People tried to kill themselves without fail when they learned they would be going to christmas island, so no one at the facility knew these movements were happening more than 3 hours out from the transfers. They would still manage to swallow razorblades, which did nothing to stop them being shipped off. Her job was basically keeping them alive to be shipped to hell.

When she interviewed to work at the island itself, one of the interview questions was

You will have patients who you assess, correctly, as needing to go to a hospital facility only available on the mainland to save their lives. You will be denied. Will you be able to handle that?

In this case, the cruelty really is the point. It has in fact worked and stopped boat migration totally.

talking about these facilities is more or less completely taboo in australian society. we dont like to think about it. we know they are cruel but broadly speaking, people believe it to be necessary to some degree. it conflicts with our national self image and our desire to be sanctimonious to americans. And indeed it was these facilities which directly inspired trumps asylum policies, first with guatemala and now el salvador.

now to return to your question as to where dickheads work: I don't know. maybe they do work there. the person i knew who worked there was a bleeding heart who was clearly haunted. But ill tell you a story: I knew a british migrant who told me her friends would never come to australia because of a girl they knew, a scottish girl who came here with her friends on a work-holiday visa. she was staying with three other british girls in a share house, and one of them overstayed their visa. the story goes that they were black bagged by cops and shipped to queensland to do agricultural labour before being deported. I had to inform this person that no many in australia would be particularly sympathetic there.

If that sounds random - one year visas in australia can only be renewed if you spend an amount of time performing agricultural labor, typically in queensland. I have heard mixed stories, but mostly it appears to be exactly as pleasant as that sounds. I typically advise people to not do it.

Funnily enough in melbourne I would say the control freak migrant haters end up becoming fare cops on the trams. In sydney that title probably goes to the anti terrorism freaks. overall it probably goes to the AFP, the federal cops, and some sections of the state cops. A lot of cops end up being hired thugs for politicians (like the fixated persons unit targeting friendlyjordies for trolling a corrupt politician).

#this went long but there you are.

84 notes · View notes

crystal-wingeddragon-spikes · 2 months ago

Text

My fan made Animation vs Coding part 2

Do you think stick figure AI would "assume" data type of all number to be float, double, or decimal?

...What? This is not a well-known fun fact outside STEM community?

So many people have this problem, someone made a whole webpage explaining it.

More organic explanation here; Defining a right data type is a big deal in programming. At least the programmer who manually assign it float/double would know why it went wrong.

JavaScript, however, will automatically assign an appropriate data type, and is advertised to be more beginner-friendly... Can you see why this became a meme?

0.1 and 0.2 will be considered double data type, which can't be accurate expressed in base 2.

There is only (1/2), (1/4), (1/8), ... ,(1/(2 power n)) in base 2.

It can't accurately express (1/10 and 2/10), but it still makes a very good approximation. That is why it is only 0.00000000000000004 off.

This is why in most statistic analysis and calculator use decimal data type. Or banking uses fixed-point numbers data. They both have their limitation; Decimal requires more computing power, which mean more specialized device. While fixed-point works fine with money because it's transferring money, not doing maths. It would never have to deal with 0.3333333... dollar.

Do you know what language is from the same family as JavaScript? That's right, it's Flash's programming language, ActionScript.

I told you my Computer Science grade was horrid, but this is very basic, so I am more confident explaining it.

#animation vs education #ava/m #ave #alan becker #animator vs animation #animation vs coding #wdragon work #sketch #ava yellow #ava orange #ava tsc #ava tco #ava alan becker #ava noogai #ava the chosen one #ava the second coming

117 notes · View notes

directdogman · 7 months ago

Note

Hi, I hope this isn't a bother. I'm trying to make a dating sim and want to have a section where the player inputs their pronouns (like you gave the option to in Dial Town). Despite my hours of effort though, I can't figure out how to do it. I'm using Visual Novel Machinery for Unreal Engine (because Unreal is required for the class I'm making this for). Even if you aren't familiar with it though, just the basic 'pull code from here and input there' would be so helpful. I'm sure I can piece it together in a way Unreal will understand with a bit of help. Legit though, I made unreal crash twice when I tried to run the initial code for it, so I'm at a loss. Side note: Your games are so awesome and a big part of why I want to make a dating sim to begin with. I wish you all the peace and love on planet earth!

Hello hello:

The trick is using a string for every instance of a pronoun in player dialogue (which is just a variable set of letters.) They, them, their, theirs, etc. Be careful when you set the system up as some pronouns don't conjugate for all cases. For instance, their and theirs are separate words, as are her/hers, but his uses the same word for both pronouns.

You also have to account for case too. This is how I set it up (this is all done right when the pronoun is first entered btw):

1)let the user input a pronoun for each option. each pronoun is a different string, one for each pronoun type (you'll see my list below)

2)i then use a script command right after that to turn all of the pronoun strings entered to lower case. This is account for players possibly capitalizing the first letter in the pronoun instinctively. IE: characters won't say: "Hey, where's He going?" instead of "he going?", which is correct.

How you convert to lowercase is different for each programming language, but I bet there's an equivalent command in UE.

3)Then I copy each pronoun twice, essentially creating two duplicates for each lower case pronoun (so there's now 3 identical pronouns for her, three for hers, etc.)

4)For the second set, I run a command that capitalizes the first and only first letter of each separately (this is useful for if a sentence starts with a pronoun, meaning the first letter would be upper case in that sentence. EG: His cowboy hat looks RIDICULOUS.)

5)for the third set, i then turn the whole string upper case. this is useful for if a character speaks in all caps or if the character is shouting/emphasizing. (EG: "Where's HE going?!")

At the end, this is what my list of strings looks like, hopefully helping you visualize what I've done:

Then, when a pronoun is referenced in dialogue, I use the string that matches the correct version of the pronoun I need. So for he, i use #6 normally, #12 if it's the start of a sentence and #18 if the character is shouting. it's good to keep a list like this handy so you don't have to go looking every time you write dialogue.

The big other thing to watch out for is how plural pronouns affect verbs. He and she IS, but they ARE. I have the player tell the game whether or not their pronoun of choice is plural after they're entered it in and then simply load two separate versions of each sentence with one set for ises and one for ares.

You can also make some more blank name variables to use for verbs and have the game check if the pronoun's plural and then reference a string like with the pronouns (ie, having a string for is that changes to are if plural and using that in dialogue.) Both solutions generally work and I use both for different situations in dialogue.

Beyond that, I can't really give any engine specific advice, but this is how I do it. Best of luck with your game! :)

169 notes · View notes

happypopcornprincess · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 5 || Family Line

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader

Premise - what is real, and what is a memory? you fight through the glimpses of past and present mixed together, will you make it out?

Word Count - 4.9K

Warnings: TW child neglect, abuse, strong language, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of death, angst, emotional abuse

a/n - I am extremely sorry for the delay, but, Story time I sprained my hand and then i caught heat rash because temp in my country has reached fuckin 40 degrees IN MARCH so can’t wait to be boiled alive in june :) which is why i couldn't type any faster :( this chapter is more like a prequel and a sequel squeezed into one, dedicated to y/n’s backstory and also we get to know her and Connor more. Contains Inaccurate family court laws, inaccurate therapy session conversations because why not? I based a character on my ex so enjoy the diss ig :)

<< Chapter 4 || Series Masterlist || Chapter 6 >>

You felt a heavy weight was being lifted off of your chest. You were no longer in the dark, but surrounded in light. Sleep clouded your senses, an entity gently wrapping you in a warm blanket.

Is this what peace felt like?

The earliest memory you had of your parents was when you were four; you were playing with Connor with your dad passed out on the porch, drunk, and your mother walked back from the fields after working the entire day. You had run up to her, unknowing of her mood, and she had swatted you away and walked back to the house, all while you cried for her to come back.

The screaming and beatings had only increased as you grew older.

It stopped after your trip to the hospital, the incident of you passing out in the fields. CPS got involved, your parents maintained the facade of being responsible and loving caregivers to both their kids, but only applied it to Connor in private.

The emotional turmoil by them loomed over you all throughout your 18 years of life under their roof.

Despite being treated like their star child, Connor knew his parent’s true nature. Connor saw. He saw the bruises, the silent tears, the hollow look in your eyes. He was their golden child, their pride, yet he never made you feel less. He loved you with a fierce, protective devotion, a father's love in a brother's heart.

No presents on your birthday? Connor saved up his pocket money to bring you books on programming. Beaten by mother about working on the farm in harvest season? He would wake up earlier than everyone to do it with you. Left alone at home with your father and his creepy friends? He would play cards locked with you in his room because his football practice got ‘cancelled’.

Your wallet would never run out of money. Connor would throw at you his new clothes he didn’t like, that would fit you perfectly. He never told you how, but got you a second hand laptop for coding.

The nights when you were sent to your room with no dinner, Connor would sneak in with a bowl of steaming hot ramen in his hands and fruit cakes in his pockets,"We'll leave," Connor would promise, a fierce vow, "We'll never come back."

—/—/—

Summer, 2018

“Mom, I told you I cannot take another elective, I have Taekwondo training.” You whined running through your living room, searching for your headphones.

“One extra class won't kill you, Y/N. Connor managed three as a senior.” She said in a calm but innate voice that irritates you.

“I’m busy. Okay. I can’t.” you fished out your headphones under the coffee table, “and tell dad to please return my headphones after he used them, not throw them around the house.”

“It’s his choice. He bought them for you anyways.” She grumbled.

You didn’t have the time or patience to tell her good for nothing, unemployed husband passed out drunk in her bedroom, didn't do anything, and you bought them with your money working at the store, so you sling on your backpack to leave.

You cycled off to your school, the warm Texan wind on your skin and your family field buzzing by you, you pedalled full speed to your school.

Your phone rings, and Connor’s name flashes on screen, you smile, connecting it with your headphones.

“How’s my bug?” His cheerful voice made you roll your eyes. How could someone be so happy at 7 am?

“Mad.” You grumble.

He sighs, “Mom?”

"Yep. Raving about her perfect son. Again."

“It’s just a few months, then we’ll be at Georgetown and leave the lovebirds to scream at each other all by themselves.”

“They do that already.” You scoff.

“Hey,” his tone turns serious, “You take care of yourself. Okay?”

You smiled, looking at the fields rushing by, “I miss you bro.”

“I miss you too.” He lets out a breath. “Take care, Bug.”

“You too. Bye.” you say before cutting the call and closing your eyes to focus on Linkin Park for now.

-----

The late afternoon sun slashed through the windows of your school as you hurried through the hallway from your counselor’s room to your classroom.

You had no idea how to react to the news he just broke to you.

Your applications looked solid. Top scores, non academic activities of martial arts, and internship at a local office. With how skilled you were with programming from a young age, your application to both georgetown and MIT looked solid, and while georgetown was ready to accept you as a student, MIT was giving you a huge scholarship.

You halted in the halls for a moment, thinking about what could happen next.

You could choose MIT, study at your dream university with a scholarship, that would certainly lead to a great career, or you could go to Georgetown paying full tuition, study with your brother and never come back. You would struggle with finances, but you can live a peaceful life… you can make it work.

A month to decide, but the weight of Connor’s old wristwatch on your wrist felt like a silent answer.

And then, piercing through the silence of the school halls, the screamings started.

—/—/—

“Please… pick up!” you groaned, tears blinding your vision as you pedalled at full speed to your house.

You called Connor again, and found the same response; straight to voicemail.

You saw the abomination with your own eyes, classmates turning to dust right in front of your eyes, the news on the internet calling it a global event. People running around the town, calling out for loved ones. On your way, cars crashed with no one in the driver’s seat, it was like the apocalypse had started.

Crashing in your front yard, you ran inside, phone still on your ear.

“Mom!” you screamed, “mom… mama… dad!” a sob racked out of your chest, “mama!” you screamed out. Crying you searched the entire house, no signs of your parents.

Hey it’s Connor I’m a little busy at the moment, leave a message.

You cried out loud, cursing into the wind, calling him again.

“Connor I swear to god if you don’t pick up, if you don’t call me back. Please…” you fell to the ground, clutching your phone to your chest.

You called again, a desperate attempt.

But this time, there was no voicemail. The call disconnected.

Your phone slipped from your hands as you sank to your knees, numb. Your breath hitched, a silent sob trapped in your throat.

Connor, your brother, your entire world… he was gone.

—/—/—

Autumn 2018

“Well this is short,” the Judge let out a nervous laugh before beginning, “I, Leonard y/l/n, being of sound mind and body, my assets both liquid and otherwise, I leave in their entirety to Cooper y/l/n. My entire ownership of the Farmlands and contents within I leave in its entirety to Cooper y/l/n. The ownership of the house on the lands, likewise I leave in its entirety to Cooper y/l/n.”

The family court Judge rearranged her spectacles, “your name on the family register is only mentioned twice miss y/l/n, once on the birth registrations and the other on the number of family members.”

You gulped, realising what that implied.

The government was occupying houses and empty lands of those who were vanished to relocate people around the country, and given the fact your wonderful parents left everything on your brother, who also has vanished, you were seconds away from being homeless.

“But..” the judge began, “you’re the only surviving family member, so…”

—/—/—

The pickup truck with your life tied at the back waited for you in the driveway, as you stared at the two headstones on your farm, one for your parents and the other one…

In loving memory of Connor Y/l/n [1998-2018]Beloved brother.His memory forever a guiding star.

“Hey Connor.” you sniffled, clutching your acceptance letter to MIT in your fist, and a bundle of primrose in another, his favourite flowers.

“I got into MIT.” you huffed out, looking around at the farmland you grew up on.

Don’t cry, don’t cry don’t cry

“I’ve leased the farm to the neighbours, so I won't have to work part time. I thought of never coming back… huh… I’ll visit on your birthday. I hoped to go to Georgetown but… ”

Uncontrollable tears fell down from your face as you recalled him teaching you to drive a truck just last summer, your laughs mixed together like the warm setting sun, “I was born with you in this world. I was your sister my whole life. And now with you gone… I don’t know how to exist anymore.”

You broke down into sobs, touching the stone knowing there was nobody underneath it. And you still searched for a fragment of your brother’s presence, hoping in your heart that any minute now he would be right in front of you to ruffle your hair and tell you you got this bug.

“Who will call me bug now Connor!” you screamed.

The flowers in your hand felt heavy, and you got on your knees to shake his gravestone angrilly, “you weren’t supposed to go away! You…” sobs retched inside your chest, and let out a scream, demanding answers.

Receiving only the comfort of the whistling wind in response.

—/—/—

Autumn 2020

“Afternoon, y/n.” sitting in front of you was Christina Raynor, your therapist, smiling up from her notebook. A fine middle aged woman, she was an ex military therapist working on the campus.

“Ma’am.” you smiled, smoothing out your skirt.

“How are you feeling?” she tilted her head, looking you in the eyes, knowing damn well she will catch you if you lied. Her posture remained straight, almost regal, intimidating anyone in front of her.

You had seeked emotional therapy when you went to classes and realized how the weight of all these years of abuse and neglect by your caregivers affected your life. Your therapist, Christina, was a godsend. You had worked with her for a year to figure out how to improve your mental health. And how to move forward.

“Quite good, actually.” you nod, smiling, “I’m doing an internship along with classes, it’s online, cybersecurity.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” she nods, “I wanted to ask you about your personal life. How are you holding up?”

“I’m taking my meds regularly if that’s what you’re referring to.” you hint at the antidepressants and anxiety medications prescribed by her.

“Okay, um, martial arts?” she asks.

“Black belt in taekwondo, brown in Muay Thai.” you point to yourself.

“Congratulations,” she claps, a genuine, appreciative gesture, “That’s great, y/n. What about your surroundings? Any friends, or relationships?”

“Oh.” you pause, thinking about how you should put it out, “well, I have some friends on campus, and from Muay Thai classes. We work together, and hangout after classes.”

“Okay, that’s nice.” she writes in her notebook, “what about relationships, you mentioned a boy in our last session.”

“I did?” you gulped.

“Yeah.” Christina leaned forward, her eyes that could read your body language in seconds perked up to bore into yours, “did something happen?”

Jeremy, blue-eyed, curly-haired, two years your senior, buttoned his shirt in front of the mirror. He met your eyes through the reflection.

"So, when am I going to see you again?" you sat up on his bed, looking at him with hooded eyes, still drowsy from the encounter.

Your first time, actually.

"What do you mean?" he laughed.

Your heart jumped, sensing what he was implying. "I mean, when are we hanging out again?"

"We're not?" He turned to face you, laughing, and picked up your dress from the floor, tossing it at you.

Noticing your stunned expression, he sighed. "I don't want to hurt you… but… this was just for fun.” he breathed out, running his fingers through his hair, “Y/N, look, I'm sorry if I led you on or something, but this was a one-time thing, okay? I don't do relationships."

You gripped your sundress, the bright yellow he'd said he liked so much, in your hands.

"Get dressed. I'll drop you off at your dorm." He said, walking into the bathroom.

“How did that make you feel?” Cristina breathes out.

“Betrayed. Sad.” your tone dropped, “He was the first boy I liked. I thought he would be my boyfriend.”

“Did you meet Jeremy again?”

“No. he made it clear he didn’t wanna meet.”

“You haven’t felt like this since your family disappeared.”

“Yep.”

“Hmm…” Cristina writes down something in her notebook, “Did you tell him about your feelings for him?”

“It wouldn't matter. He wanted to hookup with a virgin, he got that out of me so now I'm of no use to him.” you breathe out, “my friend heard him bragging about it in a bar downtown.”

Cristina took a deep breath, her stance dropping a bit, “y/n, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Please don’t mind my language but, honestly, fuck him. I’ll get better. Promise.” you smiled a sad smile.

“Are you sure?” she asks again.

“Yep. all good.” you say, genuinely, just not mentioning the part where you kicked him in the balls when he came back to beg you to sleep with him again.

“Have you visited your farm recently?”

It feels gloomy all of a sudden, and you let out a sad smile, “I visit every year on Connor’s birthday, apart from that, never.”

She suggested you try to forgive your parents, and you did try, but anytime you saw your roommate’s parents calling her everyday to check on her, or a family buying their little kid presents for christmas, your resentment for them only grew.

“What about your parents?”

“I couldn’t care less.” you scoff.

After everything they had put you through, it was just really hard for you to sympathize with them in any shape and form.

“So,” she slams her notebook shut, looking at you, “let’s do an exercise, I want you to close your eyes, and imagine your family sitting in front of you-”

“- doc, seriously?”

“- just listen, close your eyes.” you do, sitting straighter.

“Now, I want you to tell them everything that you never got to say. Good and bad.”

"I... I don't even know where to start." you say, eyes still closed.

"Start with the first thing that comes to mind."

You took a deep breath, imagining them sitting in front of you instead of Christina, and the words flew out of your mouth, "I hated you. I hated you both. For everything. Every slap, every punch, every kick. For every time you made me feel like I was nothing… like I was not even human."

"Go on." Christina tensed.

"You could love. I know that. You loved Connor like breathing. You forgave his every mistake, you hugged him when he left for school, you gave him your inheritance... God, Connor.” you sniffled, feeling your eyes burn, “He was the kindest, purest soul on earth. You didn’t deserve him. Fuck, i didn’t deserve him either. Y’all could live a hundred lifetimes, and you could still not deserve a kid like him.”

You took a long pause, breathing hard, remembering him and you mother laughing in the kitchen making dinner on Sundays, and how your dad beamed with pride when he won matches in high school, "Sometimes... I wished you would have seen me. I wished you would have hugged me. I wished you would have said you loved me. Even once. I wished... I wish only you had blipped instead of him!"

You let out a ragged breath, and "It's the truth. And it makes me sick. And I hate you, and I miss him, and I hate myself. All at the same time."

“It’s a very hard thing to admit y/n.” Christina spoke softly.

You opened your eyes to only find her in front of you, sitting calmly like a regal queen.

“I’m sorry I lashed out.” you squirmed in your seat

She only smiled in return.” it’s alright.”

—/—/—

Summer 2023

You graduated, with so many achievements under your belt that could have landed you any place that you wanted to be.

Confidence drips out of every node of your body with your Head held high, you can walk into any room and they would know you: Y/n Y/l/n, the insane coding freak who can hack into any system in seconds.

You felt good in your own self for the first time, life felt like one of those coming of age movies; where the character goes through hell and back but in the end everything works out.

Or so you thought.

It was as if you were reliving your worst nightmare.

People had started to reappear at the same places they had vanished from before. It was chaos, but of a different, more insane level than before.

Your phone was blowing up, and you didn’t dare check it, you couldn’t, because if every person who vanished five years ago was truly back… then you knew damn well who was calling you.

—/—/—

You walked into the community center in your small town cautiously, wearing an office suit, with your hair tied up and light makeup. There were people around you, reuniting with their lost family members. Tearful reunions, some solemn, some happy, but still bittersweet. But nothing could have prepared you for what unfolded next.

“Bug!”

Connor ran in your direction, slamming into you, the force sending you stumbling. You clung to him, a desperate, broken hold.

He retreated to give you the full faced smile he had since he was a kid, his canine teeth a bit crooked, his face overjoyed.

Connor looked exactly like the day he had left.

Frozen in time.

"You look," he said, his hands on your shoulders, a gentle pat on your head, tears brimming in his eyes, "you look like a grown-up!" He laughed, a sound that ripped through the years.

Tears streamed down your face as you held his hands in yours, he hadn’t changed at all, he was still 20.

“Well, I'm older than you now, so,” you choked out, a sob tearing through you as you hugged him, fierce and desperate.

He was back.

A miracle, a cruel, impossible miracle.

Just when you thought a calm had washed over you, your head jerked back with force, your hair being pulled.

“You scheming bitch!” it was your mother’s chilling scream, which made you freeze in your place. The two seconds of peace that had washed over you was snatched away in an instant.

"You stole my goddamn house while I was gone!" Your father's roar echoed, a thunderclap in the room. All eyes were on you. A spectacle.

Five years of quiet. Five years of building a life. Gone. In an instant.

—/—/—

The living room air crackled with a rage you knew too well.

People intervened to stop what had unfolded at the community center, and you were rushed out to your place.

You didn’t have much, but you packed away whatever things you had left back home, while your mother and father were locked in a screaming match downstairs with your brother.

“She didn’t steal anything ma! She saved the farm! It would have been gone in the last five years!” Connor shouts as you throw your things in cardboard boxes, sealing them shut with trembling hands.

“Well I don’t give a damn! Why is it under her name then?” your father’s voice only grew with every sentence.

“I came back to see the neighbours havin a roast in my kitchen! Do you have any idea how terrifying that was! And then I found out that little missy sold it to them when I was gone!” your mother was next to scream.

This was too familiar, your parents degrading you any chance they get and Connor defending you like his life depended on it.

“Are you hearing yourself ma!” Connor only screamed louder, “I came back to my senses in the middle of a road! I called y’all and it went straight to voicemail! I fucking hitchhiked on a bus to get here ‘cause I had no idea what the fuck was going on!”

“Oh sweet heavens!” a loud crash, and you knew your father had kicked a chair somewhere.

“What about y/n? Y’all have any idea how hard it must have been for her! She thought we all were dead for five years dad! She had our graves in the goddamn fields!”

Your mother’s shrill laughter was next, “Well, I don't know, she seems just fine to me! She strutted in the halls in that expensive ass suit looking like some high end lawyer or something’! She’s grown fat around her face, did you see that?”

You froze in your face, and saw hot white anger blinding your vision, but you kept quiet, you didn’t need to be associated with them again.

“Well you weren’t starving her for ridiculous reasons ma, so yeah i’m glad she looks healthy. And she can be whatever she wants, you shouldn’t have a say in it!”

You drowned out the shouts as you hauled the boxes from your room to the old pickup truck outside, thanking the forces you didn’t sell that.

“I’m leaving.” you spoke as you felt all three of their gazes on you.

"The hell you mean you won't come back?" your father bellowed, his southern drawl sharpening with each word, a familiar sign of his disappointment. He watched you, a rigid figure, as you hauled your luggage towards the door.

"Is there anything to come back to?" you asked, your voice flat, the question hanging in the charged atmosphere. And finally, since you have been here, your gaze, heavy with weariness, met his.

The sting of your mother’s slap registered before the sound, a sharp, brutal end to the argument.

"Ma! Don't!" Connor’s voice, raw with alarm, pierced the silence.

You turned, your eyes locking with your mother's, the same eyes reflected back at you in the mirror every morning, now twisted with a venomous anger. "You ain't no daughter of mine," she hissed, her voice a low, guttural threat. "Get out of my house!"

A coldness settled over you, "You should check the registry before you say that, Ma," you retorted, the words laced with a bitter edge. You turned on your heel, heading for the rented pickup, refusing to witness their reactions.

Under the afternoon sun, Connor ran after you, “Y/n, I know you’re angry right now, but, just listen to me.” He gently held your arm but you jerked back, looking at him.

He was tense, his brows furrowed. Confused, and frustrated, he looked at you, begged you to stay. To listen to him.

For the first time ever, you saw him not as your older brother, but as a kid. And you saw how young he was. How much weight he had been carrying on his shoulders since he was a child.

A child who had also suffered like you.

“I’m so sorry, Connor,” you held his shoulders, squeezing them with pity, in your heels, you were almost the same height now, “but I can’t do this right now. Go to georgetown, I’ll help however I can. Don’t stay here. Leave.” you hugged him, your chest tightening, and he held you back, grabbing onto your clothes, refusing to let go.

“Bug…”

The engine roared to life against the silence of the driveway. You slammed the accelerator.

"Bug! Wait!" your brother's desperate cry echoed against the hum of the engine, but you didn't slow down. The road blurred through the tears streaming down your face, the pain a burning ache in your chest, your family farm a blur around you.

You cried harder as you saw him, a small, desperate figure running after the truck, calling you by the name only he used, a name that now felt like a cruel mockery of a bond you could never go back to.

—/—/—

Present day

He ran through the cold empty hallways of the medical bay at Avengers Compound, barely registering the fact that he was standing in a place he would have given anything to even look at when he was younger. The receptionist lady just pointed him towards a vague direction where every hall and room looked the same, he was confused as to where to go, or look.

Until, he saw a figure standing at the end of one of the halls, and he ran towards it. At first, he couldn’t recognise the tall, broad shouldered asian man who stared at him in confusion, but when he got closer, he recognised him.

“You’re the guy from the LA bus incident, right?” he panted, huffing out from all the running.

“...yeah?” he raised an eyebrow, looking at him from head to toe, his expression set somewhere between bewilderment and disbelief.

He looked at himself then; he was wearing loose sweatpants and a casual shirt. He had no time to think rationally when he got the call, he grabbed whatever he could and begged his friend for his car to get to the avengers compound.

“I’m sorry I'm in a hurry, could you please direct me to…”

The man cut him off before he could finish his request, “You’re y/n’s brother… Connor, right?” he extended a hand, “I’m Shang Chi, y/n’s friend.”

Connor froze, his heart racing, his mind a haze from listening to his sister’s name from him, “Hi. hello, uh… yeah, yes. I’m her brother. Do you know where she is?” he shook his hand.

Shang Chi let out a breath, “She’s out of surgery, but…” he looked behind him, and Connor turned to follow his gaze, finding a hospital room door ajar, voices coming from inside.

“But what? Shang Chi…” he held his hand in desperation, “please tell me she’s alright?”

“Connor...” Shang Chi held his arm, leading him inside the same door he had been looking at before, “why don’t you sit down?”

Connor entered the room to see a man on the hospital bed, his neck covered in bandages, and two people; a girl and a boy sitting on the bed with him.

“Guys, Y/n’s brother.”

The girl immediately got up and rushed to him, “hi, I’m Kate. We talked on the phone.” She guided him to a chair.

He sat down, “Yes. Kate. nice to meet you.” he looked at all the faces of strange people looking at him with a gaze he thought was sadness, but later deciphered as pity.

“Y’all are scaring me folks,” he breathed hard, his emotions that he had managed to keep at bay threatened to burst, “what’s going on?”

The boy next to Kate spoke up, “she’s stable for now but she’s not waking up, Connor.”

“What?” his vision became hazy with tears brimming in his eyes.

“They’re saying, there’s a chance…” Shang Chi stopped before taking a deep breath, “there is a chance she might not wake up again.”

Those last words were the final nail in the coffin. Connor breathed out, his chest burning with pain and exhaustion, the last memory of his sister dancing infront of his eyes; how defeated she looked when she drove away from the house while he screamed for her to stay.

He let the tears fall, holding his head in his hands when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but it did nothing to soothe his pain. Fate had made him lose his sister once, and now she was being taken again.

—/—/—

The doctors had told him before he set foot inside the ICU, wearing a sterile gown and a mask, “she was stabbed multiple times, her body will take time to heal, which is why she’s in a coma. It might be a bit overwhelming for you to see her, she’s been hooked to a ventilator, oxygen pipe and wires to monitor her condition.”

Which did nothing to prepare him for the condition he found his sister in.

Her mouth was covered in tape keeping the food pipe intact, while a dozen wires ran from her arms and chest to different machines around her.

Connor couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as his mind played a cruel trick on his subconscious; instead of her grown self, all he saw was the little kid in the hospital room, sunburnt and dying from dehydration fifteen years ago.

He collapsed on the chair near her bed, his hand reaching out for her but hesitating as he saw the IV running from her pale arms.

Peter and Shang Chi’s words rang in his ears, how she could still hear her surroundings, and hearing a familiar voice could help bring her back.

“...Bug?” his voice muffled, he whispered, too scared of accidentally startling her, “hey, it’s Connor. I’m here.”

He waited for her to open her eyes and laugh, telling him this was all a cruel joke, and rant on about computers and movies which he had no ideas about, but would gladly listen with no complaints.

No such thing happened. His chest felt heavy watching how still she lied there, motivating him to talk further.

So he did.

He talked about his day, and how she scared the daylights out of him by ending up at the hospital. How he will give her a piece of his mind when she wakes up, even bribing her with her favourite fruit cake he would make for her birthdays.

He recalled a memory of when she was a toddler, and he had seen her walk for the first time. Their parents weren't around, and he was jumping with joy while you giggled and ran to him, looking up at him while hugging his legs.

“That’s my oldest memory, ever. I don’t remember anything before that, my first memory is being your brother and picking you up when you were about to fall down.” he choked on his words, “god, y/n, I have no idea how much you had suffered. I wanted to give you space… but… it took everything inside me past year not to stand in front of you and fight you for not talking to me.” he looked down, sobbing, tears falling on his gown, “just… come back. Please, Bug, you have to. I don’t know how I'll live without you annoying the shit out of me, so just, wake up.”

Connor hesitated before gently patting her head, sniffling, he walked out without looking back.

—/—/—

“Goddammit…” Joaquin cursed under his breath as he saw the chips packet stuck in the medic bay vending machine, Already frustrated and disturbed watching Connor’s reaction to the news broken by Shang Chi.

It was nearing midnight, and Joaquin had refused to eat his soup dinner which looked like it was made in the 1800s. Which proved to be a punishment as his stomach turned in hunger. So before Peter sitting next to him could have said I told you so, he tiptoed out of his hospital bed and went to wander the hallways, finding himself standing in front of a vending machine.

He contemplated getting a soft drink that was stacked right above the stuck chips, and found his pocket empty of quarters.

“Here.” a hand extended to him with some loose change, and when he saw who was the person, it was Connor

Joaquin took a good look at his face, his eyes red and hair askew, heavy dark circles loomed under his eyes indicating he hadn’t had any sleep.

It felt eerie looking at Connor. His features matched y/n a little too much… the nose, that little tilted smile to hide the anxiety, it was the same. He had earlier avoided any conversation with him, wanting no intrusion in him processing the news, but now it had been a bit too late and he hadn’t had a chance to talk to him.

“Thanks…” he muttered, taking the change and selecting the soft drink, which then made its way down to the chute with the chips.

“You sure you should be having that?” he asks in a questioning manner, which makes Joaquin turn to him to defend himself, but he notices the way Connor looks at him, worried, his eyes trained at his neck.

“I don’t like soup.” is all Joaquin says before tearing into the packet, earning him an amused laughter from Connor.

He slumps down on the bench near the machine, breathing out, and tapping a seat next to him. Joaquin wordlessly takes a seat next to him, trying to focus on his food rather than the guy sitting next to him. Minutes went by, and he had halfway finished through his packet when Connor spoke again.

“Kate told me you two are close.”

Joaquin stopped, his mind reeling about how to answer.

He was y/n’s… what? Colleague? Friend? Ex? The guy she had been sleeping with for the last few months?

He responded with a very vague, and serious, “yeah.” and went back to eating chips.

“Cool.” Connor takes a deep breath.

Silence falls, as Joaquin eats his chips and Connor sits silently next to him.

Joaquin turns to him to see a faint smile on his lips, “I found out she was an avenger after she came to New York. I wanted to tell her to stay safe, but it came out a bit accusingly, she stopped calling after that.” he breathed in, “There was a time when she would tell me everything, small or big. I was the first to know. Now… it’s been what? a year since we had a proper talk. At Least for me. She’s been living with my ghost for the last five years.”

“You were blipped?” Joaquin exclaims.

“Yeah,” he smiles sadly, “One day I'm waiting for her to come to Georgetown, and the next day she’s in front of me all grown up, like she doesn't need me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Joaquin spoke immediately, “she pretends like she doesn't need anyone but… she does. Everyone does.”

“She doesn’t say it out loud. thinking she might…”

“Hurt you.” Joaquin completes Connor’s sentence.

Connor turns to look at him, and Joaquin, for the first time, doesn’t see him as your brother.

He was looking at a kid, who had to grow up too soon to raise another kid; you. And like a light being flicked inside his head, everything started to make sense. Why you were close one second and distant the next, how you would act fine and still fall into panic episodes alone. Why you never talked about your family, or anyone of your friends, why he could never cross your walls, no matter how hard he tried.

“I’m Joaquin.” He extended his hand to Connor.

“Connor,” he shook his hand, and suddenly, a mischievous smirk played on his face, “you wanna grab some real food? Other than chips?”

Joaquin looked a bit wary, letting out a nervous laugh, “well I am hungry, so,”

Connor stands up, “let’s go to the cafeteria. Grab your jacket.” he walked out without looking back, leaving a bewildered Joaquin trying to contemplate what just happened.

—/—/—

It took exactly an hour for Joaquin and Connor to turn into friends.

Over the stale cafeteria food, their conversations deepened. Connor, surprisingly, opened up about his protective nature towards Y/N, his admiration for her resilience. They discovered a shared love for old films, quoting lines and debating plot twists, their voices hushed in the quiet of the late hours.

They were two people, brought together by the unspoken shared love and a shared fear, forging a bond in the little space between hope and despair.

As Connor tried to leave saying he would sleep on the benches until morning, Joaquin simply laughed, leading him to his room on the compound and basically threatening him to take the bed as he was going back to the medic dorm and he would let him know of any progress.

—/—/—

Connor walked into the room the next day, ready to face another day of sterile beeps and silent hopes, a forced strength in his chest reminding him not to cry, but the sight before him stole his breath.

Inside her room, the table next to her bed had flowers, balloons, and greetings from her friends from college. He read the cards - One addressed with Nelson, Murdock and Page, and another one was a bunch of white lilies from a simple card signed, “stay strong - Frank.” he smiled involuntarily, his heart clenched watching the testimony of so many people rooting for y/n.

Days blurred into a strange, unsettling routine: he would find her hair already combed, moisturiser on her skin, and a change of her hospital clothes, which Kate and Kamala swore they had nothing to do with, only exchanging soft smiles anytime they saw him.

Snacks materialized in his backpack, clothes in Joaquin's room, Peter handing him a box saying his aunt 'accidentally' made too many empanadas, Kamala's mom’s parathas that he could never get over, and even the grumpy and brooding Bucky Barnes, shoving a bag of chocolate cookies into his hands before retreating into silence.

At first, it was a bewildering puzzle, a strange, almost surreal kindness. Then, a slow, dawning realization: Y/N had built a family, a fierce, protective circle of love she'd craved her entire life. And in their silent support, they had taken him in too.

For the first time, Connor knew he wasn't alone. He had people, a safety net woven from shared pain and unwavering loyalty, a promise that if he fell, they would be there to catch him.

In the midst of all this chaos, he couldn’t help but notice Joaquin; how he would linger around her longer, how his eyes would always be trained on the monitors, his smile a bit wider, relief in his eyes when he would notice her pale skin was returning back to normal.

—/—/—

“She’s awake!” Joaquin was jolted out of his afternoon nap by Kamala’s scream in the living room.

Connor immediately made a run for it, while the others followed.

Joaquin almost had an out of body experience; his physical form walking through the corridors of the medical bay towards her room, but his mind was back to the first time he saw her... the night they met.

to be continued...

<< Chapter 4 || Series Masterlist || Chapter 6 >>

---/---/---

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Next Chapter will be up soon... Love y'all, Take Care!

Taglist

@tuiccim @parkjammys @akinrawsx @asteph22 @iamthebeth @onlyhereforthefics @yikesdameron @savedfanfics1992 @amigaytho @samwilson-mylove @jenniweaslee-faves @anna-phora @giona45-5 @lieutenantchaos

@sorchathered @ilovetaquitosmmmm @angelaristotle @allisonsalvatore392 @lovaticwarrior92 @maddywulfston @valianttyrantexpert @vanydelaire @eccentric-nos @elissalam @krismdavis @fenwin @nylastofus @peanutweanut @mistress-of-myself @lookitsgrim @darkmagazineblaze @nolita-fairytale @mrkrychek @withahintofpestoaioli @breezyez777 @badbishsblog @spider-steve

@summersblogsthings @supportourgoddesses @iamthebeth @bvckys-doll @obxfan2854 @sugar-crisps @yikesdameron @rawecreek @fluffyprettykitty @dance-is-life27 @breezyez777 @davinashifts333

106 notes · View notes

digi-lov · 2 years ago

Text

Digimon & Magical Witches

Bandai V-Pet Crossovers Part 2 (see Part 1 here)

With Tamagotchi's original launch in 1996, then Digital Monsters in 1997, Bandai and Wiz released Magical Witches in 1998!

While Tamagotchi were based on eggs, and Digital Monsters on cages, the Magical Witches v-pet is shaped like a book, cover and all!

Just like the original lines of Tamagotchi and Digimon, Kenji Watanabe was also the designer for the Magical Witches. Besides going through different stages, the Witches were also divided into four different clans each representing a different magical element. Which tribe of Witches you would raise depends on the version of the v-pet you have.

The clans and their respective magic are as follows:

Eneruge, who specialize in fire magic, Earthlin, who specialize in Earth magic, Baluluna, who specialize in wind magic, and Aquary, who specialize in water magic.

As your Witch grows, it can study other elements of magic! They cannot learn their opposite element until Gen 4 (and master it by Gen 5). So a Eneruge Witch has to learn Earthlin and/or Baluluna magic before they can learn Aquary magic.

[images from gotchi-garden]

Unfortunately this franchise never took off, and no further lines were created past the original line up. The toys are now quite the rare find and any online listings are super expensive.

But part of the franchise lives on within the Digimon franchise!

The Land of Witchelny is now portrayed as another dimension, so to speak, another layer to the Digital World we know. According to offcial DigimonWeb profiles, the land is ruled by elders of each clan and three sages that lead a council governing the clans.

Witchelny is split into four blocks for each cardinal direction, each occupied by a clan, and in the center lies Mount Brocken. On the top of Mount Brocken, the clans have established a joint magic school. Those who master magic (advanced programming language) at said magic school, move on to travel to the Digital World we know.

Here is a list of Digimon, who have been confirmed to have come from Witchelny: Wizardmon /X (master of fire and earth magic), FlareWizardmon (master of fire magic), Sorcerymon (master of light and ice magic), Witchmon (master of wind and water magic), Mistymon (master of various magics, of which fire is its forte), MedievalGallantmon (a legendary hero, who protected Witchelny in ancient times) and Wisemon (born in a magic-less region of Witchelny).

Furthermore, Hexeblaumon is a Digimon that came to Witchelny from the Digital World, and mastered ice magic there.

On the Option Card, Absolute Blast, which features HexeBlaumon, you can also see the symbol of Aquary!

Absolute Blast BT5-097 by Shin Sasaki from BT-05 Booster Battle of Omni

Comparing the original Magical Witches evolutionary charts to the what magic we know these Digimon to be proficient in, we can make some possible connections.

Wizardmon being a master of fire and earth magic, and Witchmon being a master of water and wind magic, these original Witches line up with their abilities.

[Wizardmon: Eneruge native master top, Earthlin native master bottom] [Witchmon: Aquary native master top, Baluluna native master bottom]

However with official artwork, such as the one below, portaying fire and water magic as their respective specialties, I believe the top sprites would be more likely.

With Mistymon being proficient in all magic, only the "Soul" type of Witch applies, which is the same in all clans.

I find this stuff super interesting! But wait... doesn't that one face look familiar...?

SATAN?!

If you are interested in Magical Witches, I recommend you check out gotchi-garden! They have a very detailed coverage on these. Also shoutout to @/MagicLad_Ty on twitter who first brought these to my attention!

#digimon #digimon tcg #digimon card game #digisafe #digica #デジカ #digimon references #Tamagotchi #Magical Witches #Wizardmon #Wizarmon #Witchmon #HexeBlaumon #lov rambles #digimon lore #digi know

803 notes · View notes

demonslayedher · 2 months ago

Text

Appreciating the KnY Noh Production: Part 4

Humans are demons, demons are humans. Feelings passed on; bonds unsevered.

Or so goes the catch copy for the continuation of the Kimetsu no Yaiba Noh/Kyogen production, titled "Tsugu" (継). Very clever title, since this kanji is used in both 継続 ("continuation") and the KnY-specific term, 継子 (Tsuguko). In the catch copy, they also bend it to act like 繋ぐ, the "tsunagu" verb for "binding together" so often used in KnY, like Giyuu being told how he "brings forward" the will of those left behind, and prominent lyrics in "Mugen."

Of course, like I said when addressing how to translate the catch copy for the first KnY Noh Production, there are always different approaches--the same goes for how to translate a manga for the stage.

I felt they took a different translation approach this time--a more direct translation, and less fluency in the visual and audio language used in the Noh and Kyogen theater traditions. A Noh style of sparse dialogue and lets motion and chanting tell the story, and uses more breaking of chronology to let characters express their story by feelings instead of narrative detail. This, however, was more like all the snappy dialogue we already know and love moving the story along, but all delivered with Noh flair and Kyogen-style humor.

I'll be referring some Noh-specific character rolls and stage elements in this post, and probably referring back to the first production for comparison, so you'll get more out of this post if you read this overall post first, and these reactions to Act 1 and Act 2.

What words will probably come up most in this post: Shite: The lead character role; this is the character that often has a personal story to tell or character development to undergo. Waki: The character who helps draw forth the Shite's story, like a witness or listener. Kyogen: This is a humorous theater form often used as interludes in a Noh program. Often simply silly scenarios and word play. Noh: Start here. Bridgeway/hashigakari: the corridor leading to the main stage, where some of the story may also be staged to convey a different place or time or mental state.

An actor will often be raised in a family tradition that belongs to one school of Noh and one role type. The Ohtsuki Noh Theater took charge of this production, with its shite actors performing Tanjiro, Nezuko, and Gyutaro (previously Rui as well). Waki actors have traded off for the role of Uzui (previously Tomioka as well), and Kyogen actors have taken many of the other lead roles, such as Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Muzan. Actually, Muzan/Urokodaki/Tennoji Matsuemon/Kamado Tanjuro/Daki/Rengoku have all been played by Nomura Mansai-sama, a Kyogen actor with a lot of TV and movie experience as well who has been a driving force behind these productions. The man's name shows up everywhere and in everything and he's such a dork who clearly loves Kimetsu no Yaiba.

So anyway, Mansai-sama recruited a different writer to the project this time: Misaki Kana, who I could not immediately find a professional profile for. Based on her comments throughout the first version of the script which was included in the pamphlet, Mansai-sama had a big role in the direction this production took as well.

Clearly, Misaki has knowledge of many different Noh and Kyogen plays and classic poetry upon which to draw inspiration, but the sense I got both from watching the staging and reading her commentary was that she was, above all else, a deep fan of Kimetsu no Yaiba and felt hesitant to make too loose of a transformation of it. In many cases, such as Rengoku vs. Akaza, she chose to make as few alternations to the lines as possible. In other scenes, like Uzui bringing the boys to Yoshiwara, it was played in a Kyogen style but still played the original lines fairly straight, simply altered to fit the more archaic style of language. Even scenes that I highly anticipated seeing in Noh style (most notably, Gyutaro telling his story and then reaching a state of newly found peace) were performed somewhat close to the original pacing and straightforward set-up of the manga scene. Based on his commentary in the pamphlet, I think Living National Treasure Ohtsuki Bunzo found performing Gyutaro with nuance more difficult than how he performed Rui in a more traditional Noh style, which I thought worked extremely well.

So yes, I was left a little disappointed overall with how it seemed afraid to lean into Noh style this time, perhaps both for fear of alienating the main audience, and for fear of not living up to a well-loved original story. I would have liked to see this adaptation pushed a bit more like the first one was.

But that is not to say I did not enjoy it. I most certainly did, and reading Misaki's script and footnotes made me feel like we where fangirling together. Like we were squealing over the nifty little canon references she made. You could totally feel her love for the world and its characters. I also think Mansai-sama, who has a good understanding of many audiences and media, pushed for pleasing the Noh-newbies a bit more, and this production garnered a lot more audience engagement and big laughs (though there was still plenty of that in the original).

I still continue to find it very funny when Tanjiro, played in a very serious shite style, is on stage with Kyogen-style characters. Every line is delivered with utmost earnestness, from the emotional shouting after Akaza with lines that translated to archaic style beautifully, to honest-to-goodness Tanjiro simplicity inquiring what sort of deity Uzui is.

So let's take this a little more chronologically!

Act 1:

In which Lady Muzan recaps how Lower Moons suck and the oni hunter with the earrings must die. It makes a good framing device, but also, I think Mansai-sama and Misaki just really wanted to include Lady Muzan. The Kyogen-style Enmu played a pretty anime-like Enmu with a neat overcoat that suits a kimono, a mask, and a creepy glove. Enmu's theatrical personality translates as well as usual but it had nothing on the overt theatricality of the 4D stage musical Enmu-sama.

A major element of Noh is the use of chanters, and "Nen nen korori" worked very, very well for this. Aside from the repetitious sounds and the dreamy atmosphere they create, it was also accessible to an audience unaccustomed to understanding the important storytelling that goes on in Noh chants.

The Mugen Train made out of simply Noh props was adorable, especially when it moved in time with the drums!

Tanjiro performed in straight shite style in stark contrast to Zenitsu and Inosuke's more free and silly Kyogen styles, but Mansai-sama (technically a Kyogen performer) basically does whatever he wants to dominate most of the scenes he's in. That meant ditching the mask for Rengoku this time in favor of makeup that looked more Kabuki style. But also, I loved that wig that trailed all the way down his back.

(Photo from this article.)

The whole bentou scene played pretty close to the original dialogue, also though the first draft of the script had Rengoku monologing more about how his usual favorite bentou fixings make him "wasshoi" but how this new and different this bentou is. But also, he's called "Rengoku-dono" here instead of "Rengoku-san" and I loved hearing that.

There were no people infiltrating the dreams. They were kept simple with actors dropped in black wearing simple masks and props to take on dream characters. Nezuko in Zenitsu's dream wore an Ofuku-style mask--plump and comically cheery (and almost exactly like this), and they were adorable as they happily skipped around the stage arm-in-arm. skipping around stage. Also, he called her his beloved "Nezuko-dono" and before he noticed her appear he was saying how he wished to show her this lovely scenery and he started writing about it into a story which was an overt "Legend of Zenitsu" reference. Inosuke chanted the "ore tachi doukitsu tankentai" which I love almost exactly as in the anime. Tanjiro's dream was played pretty straight and simplified. No Shinjuro or Senjuro characters; Kyojuro instead monologues that part of it and then dreams of a memory of his mother, and Ruka made for such a good Noh character!!

Not only that, but she was written to look and move similar to the famous "Hagoromo" play! In her notes, Misaki made this choice based on fanbook mention of Rengoku enjoying Noh, and assuming Ruka and the rest of the Rengoku family would have appreciated it too. It does not seem she took the drama CD into account, in which Hagoromo is stated to be Ruka's favorite play (and I analyzed that more here). The pauses and gaps between the actors really spoke here and made this the most Noh-like scene of the whole production, I felt.

Enmu as a train--basically, with a worm-like appendage out his back carried by multiple actors in black, moved convincingly both like a train and like flesh down the bridge way, and during the fight on center stage, it looked inspired by a theatrical Kagura style battle against a Yamata no Orochi (giant 8-headed serpent).

(Photo from the official Twitter)

And then Akaza, oh boy. Similar to Inosuke and Gyutaro, he had full attire with textures and symbols to fit his personality as well as the Noh stage, but what I really was not expecting was the light-up props that he and Kyojuro used. In the first production, Tanjiro fought Rui in a traditional Tsuchigumo (demon spider of canonical Noh) style battle with paper string webs all over the place, but this time they clearly chose "cool" over "tradition." When they moved their glow sticks, Akaza created the illusion of floating snowflakes and Kyojuro's sword truly looked like it had flames coming off of it. I can wrap my brain around the spinning props creating snowflakes (and this slow-exposure photo takes it to an extreme), but those flames broke my brain. (I'm just so glad it wasn't projection mapping; I usually find projection mapping cheesy and feel the simplicity of physical props suits the Noh stage better.)

(Photo from the official Twitter)

The fight was brief, though. Tanjiro's lines shouted after Akaza sounded great in the shite delivery style, as does "set your heart ablaze." I really thought we'd get the satisfaction of seeing Kyojuro follow his mother down the bridgeway (see symbolic of moving on to the after life or attaining some level of peace), but we did not get that. Kyojuro died kneeling the middle of the stage after seeing his mother at the edge, then she went on alone. Tanjiro stayed at his side, a crow slowly circled the stage, and then Tanjiro began heading off alone, taking one look back as the lights fell on Act 1.

Perhaps we could take this as Kyojuro not having needed some spiritual change to occur in his character--he was profoundly at peace with everything from his father's treatment to his own mortality.

But also I COULDN'T SEE KYOJURO'S FACE AT THE END BECAUSE A STAGE PILLAR WAS IN MY WAY but otherwise I had a good view of things.

Act 2

We start with Warabihime-oiran making her fancy walk with an entourage celebrating her, then we got cut over to Uzui bringing the boys into the scene. He was very, very shiny. Like. The brightest of silver brocade you can get in a Noh costume, probably. When he told them to be dogs and monkeys, Kyogen actors Zenitsu and Inosuke did just that, while Tanjiro, in full shite-role seriousness, earnestly treats Uzui as a god. Since Uzui was played as a waki role (an often quieter side character who bears witness to the main shite-role character's story unfolding) I wondered if this would not be flashy enough for him, but I was sold on this waki-Uzui. No shame at all in putting a foot up on the banister of the bridge way as he declares himself a god and pushes Inosuke away after the king of the forest gets up in his face and introduces himself.

In part of the original script:

Uzui: Listen well, you all. I am a god! A god's words are absolute. Tanjiro: Understood. You are a god who rules over what? Zenitsu: What are you talking about? Uzui: I am a god who rules over that which is flashy... the god of festivities! Tanjiro: Understood, God of Festivities-dono. Inosuke: I'm the king of the mountain! Uzui: What are you talking about? Zenitsu: (Makes a face at the audience that says "Wasn't saying 'What are you talking about?' my line!?")

We then got a Kyogen interlude featuring the Muscle Mice! They were a delight, even if this was no where near as long and involved and full of puns as the Kyogen interludes in the first production. Still, it was nice to hear them chat and build themselves up for being Uzui's trusted mice, get a little distracted by the beautiful sight of their own muscles, and provide more exposition to carry things along. Again, being so plot-driven made it feel a little less like true Noh/Kyogen than the first production, but I'll take all the Muscle Mouse content I am gifted.

Daki has a moment with Muzan, whose face is hidden behind a curtain and whose lines are played from a recording. This is because Mansai-sama played both Muzan and Daki.

(Photo from this article.)

Although Sumiko and Inoko made brief appearances in the original script, this was probably cut due to the constraints of time and costumes/makeup changes. However, there is a brief chance for Zenko to lament being the last to be sold off and playing a broom while someone plays a shamisen at the side of the stage. Worth stating here, you don't typically hear string instruments in Noh--drums, chanting, and flutes are more traditional, but this performance also made extensive use of a koto and even an erhu. Traditional Noh fans might not acknowledge this performance as Noh because of all those unnecessary instruments.

After a brief moment for Daki to call out Zenko for barging into her room and for being ugly, Zenko and Inosuke fight the obi down the bridge way. We get to see Zenko with a balloon for a sleep snot bubble and Inosuke totally drop archaic language to tell him he should always stay asleep.

(Photo from this article.)

Tanjiro and Daki briefly fight, Tanjiro falls away so that Ohtsuki Yuichi can do a quick change into his Nezuko costume, complete with a one-horned mask. I loved her entrance--Daki is happily monologuing to herself when Nezuko appears right beside her with a loud stomp. Fun fact: stomping is an important element of Noh performance techniques, so there are big, hollow ceramic jars below the stage to amplify the sound. This was excellent for Nezuko vs Daki, as it was a lot of vigorous stomping until Uzui came in, beheaded Daki, and ordered Tanjiro to sing Nezuko a lullaby. The chorus chanted/sang it as Nezuko dreamily left the stage. (Meanwhile, Misaki's first draft had Tanjiro performing the first line of the song, and noting basically, "Not sure how they'll pull this off since the same actor plays both roles. I look forward to whatever they figure out!")

Then comes Gyutaro, played in more of a straightforward Gyutaro way than the Noh style I anticipated... Ohtsuki Bunzo's full-on Noh style Rui was so impactful, and I think leaning away from Noh delivery in favor of making it more familiar to the KnY fans did not work in Gyutaro's favor. Thing we could have stood to get a lot more impact from the whole Gyutaro & Daki story, like a dance as he tells his back story and attains peace for having faced it (and had Tanjiro take more of a waki-role in witnessing/listening). Theirs is the kind of story that really would have lended itself well to a Noh-style storytelling approach. Oh well, at least the 4D stage play musical used the best of it's theatricality to do Gyutaro a lot of justice.

The battle was alright but brief, the dying heads arguing with each other worked well, but Gyutaro simply remained a head until it was time for he and Ume to reconcile and head off to the afterlife. A straightforward Noh style ending with them heading down the bridge way, but not the impact I was hoping it would have like seeing Rui take that path with his parents. That being said, in the original script, Misaki paid homage to canon Noh plays like "Aoi no Ue" that have a kimono prop represent a female character, and Gyutaro was intended to carry that kimono off as Ume. That probably would have been too hard for Noh-novices in the audience to understand, though, so Mansai-sama simply did a slight costume change instead.

Tanjiro concludes it nicely with lines reminding us of the core of these plays*, and then Muzan struts out in a nice framing device to mirror the beginning when he's announcing to the Lower Moons that Rui is dead. Gyutaro failed, his 12 Moon Demons keep dying ever since those cursed Tanjiro and Nezuko appeared. Meanwhile, ever-serious shite-style Tanjiro just glowers at him from the bridgeway.

*I would say "that brings us back to the catch copy for this play!" but I don't remember precisely, and it wasn't in the first draft of the script. Still, they are are fitting. To go with different possible translation this time:

Humans and demons, demons and humans. A will carried forward, and a bond that can never be cut.

人も鬼、鬼も人継なぐ想いと切れぬ絆

#kny noh production #kny in real life #kny nerdery

28 notes · View notes

cdelphiki · 6 months ago

Text

I submitted my final project yesterday, and took my final exam today, and now I'm officially done with this stupid class and this stupid certificate forever. Lmao. Stay tuned for my rant about how frustrating this experience has been for me, if you want:

I'm so annoyed with this class, because the professor was so frustrating. She didn't grade a single thing I did all semester until FINALS WEEK. She also didn't open up the instructions for the final project until she told me I was done with it (we had teams meetings so she was just verbally telling me what to do). She told me that the instructions for writing the abstract are in the project module, and I was like... what project module? When she finally opened the module and I was able to actually read it, I found that my final project she had just approved as being ready to submit didn't meet the minimum requirements? And when I asked about it she said "yes those are the minimums." LADY? DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF? YOU JUST SAID MY PROJECT WAS DONE??? It was 5pm on Friday, the last day of finals week when she did this, BY THE WAY. I had been working on the project all week, I'd put, like, 30 hours into this damn project already. And she couldn't have been early on like "hey there's a project module" so I could have even KNOWN there was supposed to be a module I couldn't see? This is after all semester long I was emailing her asking 'where is this reading, where is this lab' etc etc because she just simply didn't upload stuff or release it as the syllabus stated she would. I had to ask her for things weekly that should have just been there in the course material. Oh yeah, and those instructions for an abstract? Not in the project module. I just wrote an abstract how I think it should be. Then her exams she writes are just.... she really needs to use grammarly. Some of her exam questions made ZERO sense, because it just wasn't proper English. English is her second language, so I understand why it happened and do not judge that, but I do not find it acceptable when this is a graduate level class, in English, and you mark me wrong if I don't answer the question correctly? Just run the question through grammarly. The final exam had instructions that were like 'for essay questions write a response between 75 and 100 words, this is open book, you can talk to your classmates but your answer must be your own," and that was the instructions. Then 20 of 26 questions just had a single word as the question? Like, what do you want me to do with this? Define it? Explain it? Give an example of it? All of the above? None of the above? And she had one question that I SWEAR said "give three (4) examples of...." like?????????? and another question said "name the three types of...." but there are FIVE types of that thing?

Anyway I went to eviscerate her in the course eval and learned it closed yesterday but I wasn't done with the class yesterday so I was waiting. Oh well. My complaints will be kept to myself. She has strong suits. She's very nice, and when she actually responds to my messages (oh yeah she ghosted me the first half of this last week, when I was working on the project. I was submitting drafts to her via email like she asked me to do and she just simply didn't respond until Wednesday.) she's pretty helpful. I also DID learn a lot in her courses, and in this program overall.

The entire certificate program is sorely lacking, tbh. The first professor I had was also my advisor, and he would just flat up not respond to my emails. I don't think I'm too needy, I tend to get my work done on my own. I asked him the answer to a final question after the final was due and grades were posted, and he didn't reply to me. Like, okay dude. That's kind of rude. It's your job to teach me and I think I'm doing well by actually trying to learn what the correct answer is after the fact? Whatever. The second two classes were this same lady twice, and all my complaints about this semester can be applied to last semester, too.

Overall, I'm very glad my work paid for me to attend these classes and it was not coming out of my pocket, because if I was paying as much as work paid for this, I would have been in the dean's inbox every single semester with my issues lmao. I WILL be a Karen if it's warranted. Not grading *any* of my work until after the semester is over is unacceptable, not providing material on time is unacceptable, having exams that are indecipherable is unacceptable, etc etc. The list goes on. I didn't get my midterm grade until the final exam was open to take, also. If I as a student am expected to keep up with deadlines, my professor, as the professor, should also be expected to keep up with deadlines. (all within reason and with allowances for true problems, ofc)

52 notes · View notes

nostalgebraist · 1 year ago

Text

information flow in transformers

In machine learning, the transformer architecture is a very commonly used type of neural network model. Many of the well-known neural nets introduced in the last few years use this architecture, including GPT-2, GPT-3, and GPT-4.

This post is about the way that computation is structured inside of a transformer.

Internally, these models pass information around in a constrained way that feels strange and limited at first glance.

Specifically, inside the "program" implemented by a transformer, each segment of "code" can only access a subset of the program's "state." If the program computes a value, and writes it into the state, that doesn't make value available to any block of code that might run after the write; instead, only some operations can access the value, while others are prohibited from seeing it.

This sounds vaguely like the kind of constraint that human programmers often put on themselves: "separation of concerns," "no global variables," "your function should only take the inputs it needs," that sort of thing.

However, the apparent analogy is misleading. The transformer constraints don't look much like anything that a human programmer would write, at least under normal circumstances. And the rationale behind them is very different from "modularity" or "separation of concerns."

(Domain experts know all about this already -- this is a pedagogical post for everyone else.)

1. setting the stage

For concreteness, let's think about a transformer that is a causal language model.

So, something like GPT-3, or the model that wrote text for @nostalgebraist-autoresponder.

Roughly speaking, this model's input is a sequence of words, like ["Fido", "is", "a", "dog"].

Since the model needs to know the order the words come in, we'll include an integer offset alongside each word, specifying the position of this element in the sequence. So, in full, our example input is

[ ("Fido", 0), ("is", 1), ("a", 2), ("dog", 3), ]

The model itself -- the neural network -- can be viewed as a single long function, which operates on a single element of the sequence. Its task is to output the next element.

Let's call the function f. If f does its job perfectly, then when applied to our example sequence, we will have

f("Fido", 0) = "is" f("is", 1) = "a" f("a", 2) = "dog"

(Note: I've omitted the index from the output type, since it's always obvious what the next index is. Also, in reality the output type is a probability distribution over words, not just a word; the goal is to put high probability on the next word. I'm ignoring this to simplify exposition.)

You may have noticed something: as written, this seems impossible!

Like, how is the function supposed to know that after ("a", 2), the next word is "dog"!? The word "a" could be followed by all sorts of things.

What makes "dog" likely, in this case, is the fact that we're talking about someone named "Fido."

That information isn't contained in ("a", 2). To do the right thing here, you need info from the whole sequence thus far -- from "Fido is a", as opposed to just "a".

How can f get this information, if its input is just a single word and an index?

This is possible because f isn't a pure function. The program has an internal state, which f can access and modify.

But f doesn't just have arbitrary read/write access to the state. Its access is constrained, in a very specific sort of way.

2. transformer-style programming

Let's get more specific about the program state.

The state consists of a series of distinct "memory regions" or "blocks," which have an order assigned to them.

Let's use the notation memory_i for these. The first block is memory_0, the second is memory_1, and so on.

In practice, a small transformer might have around 10 of these blocks, while a very large one might have 100 or more.

Each block contains a separate data-storage "cell" for each offset in the sequence.

For example, memory_0 contains a cell for position 0 ("Fido" in our example text), and a cell for position 1 ("is"), and so on. Meanwhile, memory_1 contains its own, distinct cells for each of these positions. And so does memory_2, etc.

So the overall layout looks like:

memory_0: [cell 0, cell 1, ...] memory_1: [cell 0, cell 1, ...] [...]

Our function f can interact with this program state. But it must do so in a way that conforms to a set of rules.

Here are the rules:

The function can only interact with the blocks by using a specific instruction.

This instruction is an "atomic write+read". It writes data to a block, then reads data from that block for f to use.

When the instruction writes data, it goes in the cell specified in the function offset argument. That is, the "i" in f(..., i).

When the instruction reads data, the data comes from all cells up to and including the offset argument.

The function must call the instruction exactly once for each block.

These calls must happen in order. For example, you can't do the call for memory_1 until you've done the one for memory_0.

Here's some pseudo-code, showing a generic computation of this kind:

f(x, i) { calculate some things using x and i; // next 2 lines are a single instruction write to memory_0 at position i; z0 = read from memory_0 at positions 0...i; calculate some things using x, i, and z0; // next 2 lines are a single instruction write to memory_1 at position i; z1 = read from memory_1 at positions 0...i; calculate some things using x, i, z0, and z1; [etc.] }

The rules impose a tradeoff between the amount of processing required to produce a value, and how early the value can be accessed within the function body.

Consider the moment when data is written to memory_0. This happens before anything is read (even from memory_0 itself).

So the data in memory_0 has been computed only on the basis of individual inputs like ("a," 2). It can't leverage any information about multiple words and how they relate to one another.

But just after the write to memory_0, there's a read from memory_0. This read pulls in data computed by f when it ran on all the earlier words in the sequence.

If we're processing ("a", 2) in our example, then this is the point where our code is first able to access facts like "the word 'Fido' appeared earlier in the text."

However, we still know less than we might prefer.

Recall that memory_0 gets written before anything gets read. The data living there only reflects what f knows before it can see all the other words, while it still only has access to the one word that appeared in its input.

The data we've just read does not contain a holistic, "fully processed" representation of the whole sequence so far ("Fido is a"). Instead, it contains:

a representation of ("Fido", 0) alone, computed in ignorance of the rest of the text

a representation of ("is", 1) alone, computed in ignorance of the rest of the text

a representation of ("a", 2) alone, computed in ignorance of the rest of the text

Now, once we get to memory_1, we will no longer face this problem. Stuff in memory_1 gets computed with the benefit of whatever was in memory_0. The step that computes it can "see all the words at once."

Nonetheless, the whole function is affected by a generalized version of the same quirk.

All else being equal, data stored in later blocks ought to be more useful. Suppose for instance that

memory_4 gets read/written 20% of the way through the function body, and

memory_16 gets read/written 80% of the way through the function body

Here, strictly more computation can be leveraged to produce the data in memory_16. Calculations which are simple enough to fit in the program, but too complex to fit in just 20% of the program, can be stored in memory_16 but not in memory_4.

All else being equal, then, we'd prefer to read from memory_16 rather than memory_4 if possible.

But in fact, we can only read from memory_16 once -- at a point 80% of the way through the code, when the read/write happens for that block.

The general picture looks like:

The early parts of the function can see and leverage what got computed earlier in the sequence -- by the same early parts of the function. This data is relatively "weak," since not much computation went into it. But, by the same token, we have plenty of time to further process it.

The late parts of the function can see and leverage what got computed earlier in the sequence -- by the same late parts of the function. This data is relatively "strong," since lots of computation went into it. But, by the same token, we don't have much time left to further process it.

3. why?

There are multiple ways you can "run" the program specified by f.

Here's one way, which is used when generating text, and which matches popular intuitions about how language models work:

First, we run f("Fido", 0) from start to end. The function returns "is." As a side effect, it populates cell 0 of every memory block.

Next, we run f("is", 1) from start to end. The function returns "a." As a side effect, it populates cell 1 of every memory block.

Etc.

If we're running the code like this, the constraints described earlier feel weird and pointlessly restrictive.

By the time we're running f("is", 1), we've already populated some data into every memory block, all the way up to memory_16 or whatever.

This data is already there, and contains lots of useful insights.

And yet, during the function call f("is", 1), we "forget about" this data -- only to progressively remember it again, block by block. The early parts of this call have only memory_0 to play with, and then memory_1, etc. Only at the end do we allow access to the juicy, extensively processed results that occupy the final blocks.

Why? Why not just let this call read memory_16 immediately, on the first line of code? The data is sitting there, ready to be used!

Why? Because the constraint enables a second way of running this program.

The second way is equivalent to the first, in the sense of producing the same outputs. But instead of processing one word at a time, it processes a whole sequence of words, in parallel.

Here's how it works:

In parallel, run f("Fido", 0) and f("is", 1) and f("a", 2), up until the first write+read instruction. You can do this because the functions are causally independent of one another, up to this point. We now have 3 copies of f, each at the same "line of code": the first write+read instruction.

Perform the write part of the instruction for all the copies, in parallel. This populates cells 0, 1 and 2 of memory_0.

Perform the read part of the instruction for all the copies, in parallel. Each copy of f receives some of the data just written to memory_0, covering offsets up to its own. For instance, f("is", 1) gets data from cells 0 and 1.

In parallel, continue running the 3 copies of f, covering the code between the first write+read instruction and the second.

Perform the second write. This populates cells 0, 1 and 2 of memory_1.

Perform the second read.

Repeat like this until done.

Observe that mode of operation only works if you have a complete input sequence ready before you run anything.

(You can't parallelize over later positions in the sequence if you don't know, yet, what words they contain.)

So, this won't work when the model is generating text, word by word.

But it will work if you have a bunch of texts, and you want to process those texts with the model, for the sake of updating the model so it does a better job of predicting them.

This is called "training," and it's how neural nets get made in the first place. In our programming analogy, it's how the code inside the function body gets written.

The fact that we can train in parallel over the sequence is a huge deal, and probably accounts for most (or even all) of the benefit that transformers have over earlier architectures like RNNs.

Accelerators like GPUs are really good at doing the kinds of calculations that happen inside neural nets, in parallel.

So if you can make your training process more parallel, you can effectively multiply the computing power available to it, for free. (I'm omitting many caveats here -- see this great post for details.)

Transformer training isn't maximally parallel. It's still sequential in one "dimension," namely the layers, which correspond to our write+read steps here. You can't parallelize those.

But it is, at least, parallel along some dimension, namely the sequence dimension.

The older RNN architecture, by contrast, was inherently sequential along both these dimensions. Training an RNN is, effectively, a nested for loop. But training a transformer is just a regular, single for loop.

4. tying it together

The "magical" thing about this setup is that both ways of running the model do the same thing. You are, literally, doing the same exact computation. The function can't tell whether it is being run one way or the other.

This is crucial, because we want the training process -- which uses the parallel mode -- to teach the model how to perform generation, which uses the sequential mode. Since both modes look the same from the model's perspective, this works.

This constraint -- that the code can run in parallel over the sequence, and that this must do the same thing as running it sequentially -- is the reason for everything else we noted above.

Earlier, we asked: why can't we allow later (in the sequence) invocations of f to read earlier data out of blocks like memory_16 immediately, on "the first line of code"?

And the answer is: because that would break parallelism. You'd have to run f("Fido", 0) all the way through before even starting to run f("is", 1).

By structuring the computation in this specific way, we provide the model with the benefits of recurrence -- writing things down at earlier positions, accessing them at later positions, and writing further things down which can be accessed even later -- while breaking the sequential dependencies that would ordinarily prevent a recurrent calculation from being executed in parallel.

In other words, we've found a way to create an iterative function that takes its own outputs as input -- and does so repeatedly, producing longer and longer outputs to be read off by its next invocation -- with the property that this iteration can be run in parallel.

We can run the first 10% of every iteration -- of f() and f(f()) and f(f(f())) and so on -- at the same time, before we know what will happen in the later stages of any iteration.

The call f(f()) uses all the information handed to it by f() -- eventually. But it cannot make any requests for information that would leave itself idling, waiting for f() to fully complete.

Whenever f(f()) needs a value computed by f(), it is always the value that f() -- running alongside f(f()), simultaneously -- has just written down, a mere moment ago.

No dead time, no idling, no waiting-for-the-other-guy-to-finish.

p.s.

The "memory blocks" here correspond to what are called "keys and values" in usual transformer lingo.

If you've heard the term "KV cache," it refers to the contents of the memory blocks during generation, when we're running in "sequential mode."

Usually, during generation, one keeps this state in memory and appends a new cell to each block whenever a new token is generated (and, as a result, the sequence gets longer by 1).

This is called "caching" to contrast it with the worse approach of throwing away the block contents after each generated token, and then re-generating them by running f on the whole sequence so far (not just the latest token). And then having to do that over and over, once per generated token.

#ai tag #is there some standard CS name for the thing i'm talking about here?#i feel like there should be #but i never heard people mention it #(or at least i've never heard people mention it in a way that made the connection with transformers clear)

313 notes · View notes

luciacaminoz · 1 month ago

Note

GIVE US DA RYAN DEETZ!!!!!!! pls and thank u <3

i went crazy w this forgive me but it was so fun once i started LMAO

CODEX ENTRY:

Ryan Donahue

Bail Bond Enforcer

Name: Ryan Michael Donahue

Aliases: “Montana” (Cartel & Bounty Hunter associates), “Sharkbait” (Miami repo circuit), “Saint Gringo” (affectionately—Mrs. Gutierrez, 68, his widowed hallway neighbor and pseudo-abuela that he’ll repair anything and everything for, free of charge and at the drop of her oversized sunhat)

Birthdate: March 14th, 1990 (Pisces sun, Taurus moon, Sagittarius rising) | (meets Sol in 2017 at the bar Cactus Moon, the AU is set 8 months later in 2018 so he’s just turned 28 when they reunite at Club E11EVEN.)

Height: 6’3 | Weight: 210 lbs (8% body fat)

Nationality: American (Montana-born, Florida-raised)

Affiliation: Independent Contractor (bail bonds, repossession, occasional problem-solving for organized-crime-adjacent clients)

PHYSICAL PROFILE:

Appearance: Caucasian, eternal tan-lines, dirty blond hair (buzzcut fade in 2017, grown-out more by 2018), light stubble, dark blue/gray eyes

Build: NFL Tight End meets Carpentry Jesus — broad shoulders, tapered waist, legs thick from hauling ass.

Maintains physique via manual labor and gym rat habits, dawn weightlifting (235lb bench, 485lb deadlift), weekend MMA sparring with The Boys, and dragging dickheads out of McMansions and meth labs.

Distinguishing Marks/Features:

Medium-sized birthmark on his right shoulder blade

Prowling Tiger backpiece (Japanese traditional/irezumi, 18hrs, Miami Ink, 25th Birthday)

“LIVE FREE” knuckle tattoos (at 20, just ‘cause)

Regrettable star tramp stamp (blackout during Spring Break, Key West ‘07). (Also almost got his grandad’s rodeo belt buckle tattooed: “Giddy Up or Giddy Gone”.)

Scars:

Faint knife slash along ribs on his left side (bar fight)

Burn mark on his left palm (welding accident at 16)

Faded .22 graze above his right knee from Miami PD ‘friendly fire’

Scent: Coppertone sunscreen, Dial Spring Water soap, Cuban espresso; sawdust and gun oil occasionally.

Blood Profile: tastes like sea salt, cedar smoke, a 90-proof shot, the tiniest hint of caramel

Style: Just Some Guy ™️ mixed with Florida Man Drip ™️ and a little athleisure — tank tops, unbuttoned tropical camp shirts, slim-fit henleys with the sleeves rolled. Jeans, sweatpants, board shorts. Dressed up: short-sleeved dress shirts and Cuban-collar linen in solid-colors (creams, bourbons, navies, as well as pastels), silver pinky ring (grandad’s)—he has literally never gotten more formal than that…

Voice: Baritone drawl (Montana gravel honeyed with half a life spent in Miami), laughs like a diesel engine turning over

Language(s): English, kitchen-table Spanish (bad pronunciation always to Mrs. G’s and Sol’s amusements)

BACKGROUND (Lite):

Born in Butte, MT, to a roofer dad and ER nurse mom. Has a sister 4 years older, Lisa. Spent summers on grandad Frank’s ranch mending fences, tracking elk, learning to spot rattlesnakes by sound. Family moved to Miami after dad’s death (‘99) and mom remarried (‘01). HATED the city until he discovered his love for the ocean.

Dropped out of FSU Marine Bio program when mom got sick after her divorce. Fell into repo work to help pay chemo bills, found he had a knack for persuasion. Has twin nieces—Lisa had baby girls Elle and Frankie in 2014.

Collects vintage bottle openers and plays Animal Crossing: New Horizons to unwind

PERSONALITY & PSYCHOLOGICAL ASSESSMENT (Lite):

Enneagram: Type 8, bounces between 8w7 and 8w9

Symptoms of Mild OCD

Core Fear: Helplessness

Core Desire: Autonomy

Fatal Flaw: Assuming everyone is as straightforward as him

MBTI: ISTP (The Virtuoso). Tries to fix what’s broken while ignoring what’s making things complicated

Defining Traits:

Preternatural Calm (BP stays 120/80 even evading gunfire)

Moral Flexibility (steals from criminals, lies to cops… repos yachts, not souls—but hey, if the cash is REALLY good…)

Protective Without Paternalism (you’re a grown ass woman Sol for fuck’s sake act like it)

Sunset Nostalgia (prone to unprompted childhood stories, buying overpriced cowboy boots and expensive artisanal coffee grounds for Mrs. G, FaceTiming his sister’s kids)

Resilience (survives Sol accidentally over-feeding with only mild anemia and a request for Waffle House)

Sunburn (Celtic genes + Miami UV = often in Lobster-mode)

SKILLSET & MISC:

Combat: Krav Maga basics, Dirty Boxing (street rules), Expert Marksman (Glock 19, sawed-off Mossberg)

Mechanical: Rudimentary engine repair and maintenance, hotwiring (down to 13.2 secs avg) (Sol is 8.3 when he tests her. Girl was born in the garage what do you expect)

Wilderness: Tracking, decent survivalist camping (though would be incredibly rusty), fly-fishing (GRAMPS)

Digital Footprint: Instagram (@ryan.donahue, 3,284 followers. Posts: sunsets over Biscayne Bay, his nights out with The Boys, an octopus called Dale that was found in the glove compartment of a repo’d Lamborghini Aventador in 2016.)

Safehouse: 1 bed condo in Little Havana. Bachelor pad IKEA minimalism, some nautical kitsch.

service top

#ask #oc: ryan donahue #THABK YOU LMFAO sorry i wrote a lot i got in the zone as soon as i saw this.. art can come later im too tired #codex: ryan #i need to do one of these for sol & my other ocs #jez wiki

21 notes · View notes

bloomzone · 1 year ago

Note

Can you make a guide inspired by Jang Wonyoung ??

WONYOUNGISM:THE ULTIMATE GUIDE TO BE THE BEST VERSION OF YOURSELF ! ৎ୭ ॱ ₊ . *

PART 1

THIS GONNA CHANGE YOUR LIFE TRUST ME WONYOUNG EFFECT IS REAL !

CHAPTER 1

CONFIDENCE

Confidence, like that exemplified by Jang Wonyoung, is cultivated through a combination of self-awareness, self-acceptance, and proactive mindset. Firstly honey, it's crucial to understand and embrace your unique qualities, recognizing that what sets you apart is what makes you special. This self-acceptance forms the foundation upon which confidence can flourish. Secondly, practicing self-love and focusing on your strengths and accomplishments helps to build a positive self-image. Setting clear goals and working towards them provides a sense of purpose and direction, boosting confidence with each milestone achieved. Additionally, paying attention to body language—standing tall, making eye contact, and using open gestures—projects confidence to others and reinforces it within yourself. It's also essential to cultivate assertiveness, expressing your opinions and needs confidently while respecting others. Stepping out of your comfort zone regularly and embracing new challenges fosters growth and resilience, further enhancing confidence. Surrounding yourself with supportive people and maintaining a positive outlook on life can also contribute to confidence. Finally, learning from setbacks and viewing failures as opportunities for growth rather than personal shortcomings helps to maintain a resilient and confident mindset. Overall, confidence, like any skill, is developed through consistent practice and a willingness to embrace both successes and failures along the journey of self-discovery and personal growth.

CHAPTER 2

SELF LOVE

To love yourself, start by practicing self-care and self-compassion. Treat yourself with kindness, respect, and understanding, just as you would a dear friend. Don't be harsh on yourself Focus on your strengths, accomplishments, and unique qualities, and embrace your imperfections as part of what makes you beautifully human. Set boundaries to protect your well-being and prioritize activities that nourish your mind, body, and soul. Practice positive affirmations, gratitude, and mindfulness to cultivate a healthy self-image and inner peace

CHAPTER 3

SELF CARE

self care program idea !

self-care program inspired by Jang Wonyoung's approach:

1. Morning Skincare Routine (10-15 minutes):

- Cleanse your face with a gentle facial cleanser to remove impurities.

- Apply toner to balance your skin's pH levels and prep it for hydration.

- Moisturize your face with a lightweight moisturizer suitable for your skin type.

- Finish with sunscreen to protect your skin from UV rays.

2. Healthy Breakfast (20-30 minutes):

- Prepare a nutritious breakfast with whole grains, fruits, and proteins, such as oatmeal topped with berries and nuts or scrambled eggs with vegetables.

3. Exercise Session (30-45 minutes):

- Engage in a physical activity that you enjoy, such as dancing, jogging, or practicing yoga, to get your body moving and boost your mood.

4. Midday Relaxation Break (15-30 minutes):

- Take a break from your daily activities to practice relaxation techniques, such as deep breathing exercises, meditation, or stretching, to reduce stress and promote mental well-being.

5. Healthy Lunch (20-30 minutes):

- Prepare a balanced meal with lean proteins, vegetables, and whole grains, such as grilled chicken salad or quinoa bowl with roasted vegetables.

6. Afternoon Self-Care Ritual (30-60 minutes):

- Treat yourself to a pampering session with skincare treatments, such as a face mask or face yoga, followed by a relaxing bath

7. Quality Time with Loved Ones (1-2 hours):

- Spend time with supportive friends or family members, whether it's going for a walk in nature, enjoying a meal together, or simply having a heartfelt conversation.

8. Evening Wind-Down Routine (30-60 minutes):

- Unplug from screens and indulge in calming activities, such as reading a book, listening to soothing music, or journaling about your day.

9. Bedtime Skincare Routine (10-15 minutes):

- Repeat your skincare routine from the morning, cleansing your face to remove makeup and impurities, followed by toner, moisturizer, and eye cream. ( U don't need to use expansive shīt, look for what is good for ur skin !)

10. Quality Sleep (7-9 hours):

- Ensure you get enough restful sleep to allow your body and mind to recharge for the next day, aiming for 7-9 hours of quality sleep each night.

CHAPTER 4

STUDY

Studying effectively requires a combination of strategic planning, focused concentration. Start by setting clear goals and breaking down your study material into manageable chunks. Create a study schedule that allocates specific time slots for different subjects or topics, ensuring consistency and accountability. Find a quiet and comfortable study environment free from distractions where you can fully concentrate on your tasks. Use active learning techniques such as summarizing, teaching others, and practicing retrieval to reinforce your understanding and retention of the material. Take regular breaks to rest your mind and recharge, incorporating activities that promote relaxation and mental clarity. Prioritize self-care by getting enough sleep, eating nutritious meals, and staying physically active to support your overall well-being and cognitive function. Finally, stay organized, stay positive, and stay motivated by celebrating your progress and accomplishments along the way. By implementing these strategies and nurturing a healthy study mindset, you can optimize your learning experience and study more effectively.

CHAPTER 5

WORKOUT

To workout like Jang Wonyoung, it's essential to incorporate a combination of cardio, strength training, and flexibility exercises to support her active lifestyle as a performer. Wonyoung likely engages in cardio exercises such as dancing, jogging, or cycling to improve her cardiovascular endurance and stamina, crucial for keeping up with intense dance routines and performances. Additionally, she may include strength training exercises such as bodyweight exercises, resistance band workouts, or weightlifting to build and tone her muscles, enhancing her physical strength and stage presence. To maintain flexibility and agility, Wonyoung may incorporate stretching, yoga, or Pilates into her routine, which can also help prevent injuries and improve overall body awareness. It's important for her to listen to her body, rest when needed, and stay hydrated to support her recovery and performance. By adopting a well-rounded workout routine that combines cardio, strength, and flexibility training, Wonyoung can stay fit, healthy, and ready to dazzle audiences with her performances.

#becoming that girl #glow up #wonyoungism #wonyoung #dream life #it girl #creator of my reality #divine feminine #it girl affirmations #love affirmations #self development #self love #dream girl tips #manifesation #kawaii #that girl #clean girl #photography

107 notes · View notes

codingquill · 2 years ago

Text

JavaScript Fundamentals

I have recently completed a course that extensively covered the foundational principles of JavaScript, and I'm here to provide you with a concise overview. This post will enable you to grasp the fundamental concepts without the need to enroll in the course.

Prerequisites: Fundamental HTML Comprehension

Before delving into JavaScript, it is imperative to possess a basic understanding of HTML. Knowledge of CSS, while beneficial, is not mandatory, as it primarily pertains to the visual aspects of web pages.

Manipulating HTML Text with JavaScript

When it comes to modifying text using JavaScript, the innerHTML function is the go-to tool. Let's break down the process step by step:

Initiate the process by selecting the HTML element whose text you intend to modify. This selection can be accomplished by employing various DOM (Document Object Model) element selection methods offered by JavaScript ( I'll talk about them in a second )

Optionally, you can store the selected element in a variable (we'll get into variables shortly).

Employ the innerHTML function to substitute the existing text with your desired content.

Element Selection: IDs or Classes

You have the opportunity to enhance your element selection by assigning either an ID or a class:

Assigning an ID:

To uniquely identify an element, the .getElementById() function is your go-to choice. Here's an example in HTML and JavaScript:

HTML:

<button id="btnSearch">Search</button>

JavaScript:

document.getElementById("btnSearch").innerHTML = "Not working";

This code snippet will alter the text within the button from "Search" to "Not working."

Assigning a Class:

For broader selections of elements, you can assign a class and use the .querySelector() function. Keep in mind that this method can select multiple elements, in contrast to .getElementById(), which typically focuses on a single element and is more commonly used.

Variables

Let's keep it simple: What's a variable? Well, think of it as a container where you can put different things—these things could be numbers, words, characters, or even true/false values. These various types of stuff that you can store in a variable are called DATA TYPES.

Now, some programming languages are pretty strict about mentioning these data types. Take C and C++, for instance; they're what we call "Typed" languages, and they really care about knowing the data type.

But here's where JavaScript stands out: When you create a variable in JavaScript, you don't have to specify its data type or anything like that. JavaScript is pretty laid-back when it comes to data types.

So, how do you make a variable in JavaScript?

There are three main keywords you need to know: var, let, and const.

But if you're just starting out, here's what you need to know :

const: Use this when you want your variable to stay the same, not change. It's like a constant, as the name suggests.

var and let: These are the ones you use when you're planning to change the value stored in the variable as your program runs.

Note that var is rarely used nowadays

Check this out:

let Variable1 = 3; var Variable2 = "This is a string"; const Variable3 = true;

Notice how we can store all sorts of stuff without worrying about declaring their types in JavaScript. It's one of the reasons JavaScript is a popular choice for beginners.

Arrays

Arrays are a basically just a group of variables stored in one container ( A container is what ? a variable , So an array is also just a variable ) , now again since JavaScript is easy with datatypes it is not considered an error to store variables of different datatypeslet

for example :

myArray = [1 , 2, 4 , "Name"];

Objects in JavaScript

Objects play a significant role, especially in the world of OOP : object-oriented programming (which we'll talk about in another post). For now, let's focus on understanding what objects are and how they mirror real-world objects.

In our everyday world, objects possess characteristics or properties. Take a car, for instance; it boasts attributes like its color, speed rate, and make.

So, how do we represent a car in JavaScript? A regular variable won't quite cut it, and neither will an array. The answer lies in using an object.

const Car = { color: "red", speedRate: "200km", make: "Range Rover" };

In this example, we've encapsulated the car's properties within an object called Car. This structure is not only intuitive but also aligns with how real-world objects are conceptualized and represented in JavaScript.

Variable Scope

There are three variable scopes : global scope, local scope, and function scope. Let's break it down in plain terms.

Global Scope: Think of global scope as the wild west of variables. When you declare a variable here, it's like planting a flag that says, "I'm available everywhere in the code!" No need for any special enclosures or curly braces.

Local Scope: Picture local scope as a cozy room with its own rules. When you create a variable inside a pair of curly braces, like this:

//Not here { const Variable1 = true; //Variable1 can only be used here } //Neither here

Variable1 becomes a room-bound secret. You can't use it anywhere else in the code

Function Scope: When you declare a variable inside a function (don't worry, we'll cover functions soon), it's a member of an exclusive group. This means you can only name-drop it within that function. .

So, variable scope is all about where you place your variables and where they're allowed to be used.

Adding in user input

To capture user input in JavaScript, you can use various methods and techniques depending on the context, such as web forms, text fields, or command-line interfaces.We’ll only talk for now about HTML forms

HTML Forms:

You can create HTML forms using the <;form> element and capture user input using various input elements like text fields, radio buttons, checkboxes, and more.

JavaScript can then be used to access and process the user's input.

Functions in JavaScript

Think of a function as a helpful individual with a specific task. Whenever you need that task performed in your code, you simply call upon this capable "person" to get the job done.

Declaring a Function: Declaring a function is straightforward. You define it like this:

function functionName() { // The code that defines what the function does goes here }

Then, when you need the function to carry out its task, you call it by name:

functionName();

Using Functions in HTML: Functions are often used in HTML to handle events. But what exactly is an event? It's when a user interacts with something on a web page, like clicking a button, following a link, or interacting with an image.

Event Handling: JavaScript helps us determine what should happen when a user interacts with elements on a webpage. Here's how you might use it:

HTML:

<button onclick="FunctionName()" id="btnEvent">Click me</button>

JavaScript:

function FunctionName() { var toHandle = document.getElementById("btnEvent"); // Once I've identified my button, I can specify how to handle the click event here }

In this example, when the user clicks the "Click me" button, the JavaScript function FunctionName() is called, and you can specify how to handle that event within the function.

Arrow functions : is a type of functions that was introduced in ES6, you can read more about it in the link below

If Statements

These simple constructs come into play in your code, no matter how advanced your projects become.

If Statements Demystified: Let's break it down. "If" is precisely what it sounds like: if something holds true, then do something. You define a condition within parentheses, and if that condition evaluates to true, the code enclosed in curly braces executes.

If statements are your go-to tool for handling various scenarios, including error management, addressing specific cases, and more.

Writing an If Statement:

if (Variable === "help") { console.log("Send help"); // The console.log() function outputs information to the console }

In this example, if the condition inside the parentheses (in this case, checking if the Variable is equal to "help") is true, the code within the curly braces gets executed.

Else and Else If Statements

Else: When the "if" condition is not met, the "else" part kicks in. It serves as a safety net, ensuring your program doesn't break and allowing you to specify what should happen in such cases.

Else If: Now, what if you need to check for a particular condition within a series of possibilities? That's where "else if" steps in. It allows you to examine and handle specific cases that require unique treatment.

Styling Elements with JavaScript

This is the beginner-friendly approach to changing the style of elements in JavaScript. It involves selecting an element using its ID or class, then making use of the .style.property method to set the desired styling property.

Example:

Let's say you have an HTML button with the ID "myButton," and you want to change its background color to red using JavaScript. Here's how you can do it:

HTML: <button id="myButton">Click me</button>

JavaScript:

// Select the button element by its ID const buttonElement = document.getElementById("myButton"); // Change the background color property buttonElement.style.backgroundColor = "red";

In this example, we first select the button element by its ID using document.getElementById("myButton"). Then, we use .style.backgroundColor to set the background color property of the button to "red." This straightforward approach allows you to dynamically change the style of HTML elements using JavaScript.

400 notes · View notes