#Writing Clean Code

[kagooleo]

been busy the past month but college completion is nearly upon me… by next week I’m gonna be a fish with a degree!!

[harlequinoccult]

"OH MY GOD THAT'S HOW THEY KNOW EACHOTHER!!" <- me having an epiphany when you suggested Carter was the one to give Ariel his fake documents

anyway i had to get off anon for this one, just wanted to give u this super messy sketch i made of my specialest boy, w his mask on bc drawing faces is hard-

how does he see anything w that thing on? great question!

drawing has been hard for me to do recently, but i want to come up w a OD design so i can draw them being freaks together. maybe one day ill actually manage to do it-

anyway, just wanted to do this as a lil thanks for taking an interest in him and even helping to make his backstory make more sense one way or another XD

i hope you're having a lovely day! your IF has made a bit insane, so thanks for making it, i have two more freaks i can ramble abt later on if you're ok w that! don't forget to hydrate!!

-🦊

I love hearing about and seeing people's mcs and ocs and im glad i could help 😌

[bwobgames]

Just finished Beebing, as us Beebers tend to do, and compiled a list of the Beeb Bugs (/ finicky game design things) i noticed to help guide you in your valiant quest to Better the Beeb. Hope these help!

(No pressure with any of these by the way, please don’t put too much on your plate and make sure to get plenty of rest!)

Probably contains some spoilers so be aware fellow Beebers

Fullscreen mode please 👉👈

Not an issue (and you can completely ignore me on this) but it’d be very funny if there was an ending where you either choose never to go to the party or leave once you get there. Like. Screen goes dark “and he never found out the true mystery of the mansion” cut to title screen. Totally up to you though just thought it’d be silly. Okay now on to the actual issues i noticed

Tutorial states that backspace will reset things in the demo instead of the space bar (space bar still does that though)

When beeb enters the house for the first time, “one more chance” displays at the top of the screen as if it’s the start to another loop. Wild lore implications, but i’m not sure if they’re lore implications you wish to be implicated

Would be nice if doors were more clearly labeled so players know where the kitchen and office keys go. Secret doors with secrets could be labeled “unknown” until the keys for them have been found, to allow for intrigue while also having that guidance when it is needed

The mini game with the magnet… dunno if it’s bugged or just me but the magnet tends to drop right as it reaches the top. Had to try that one a few times lol (maybe try making the “hit box” a bit bigger? Oh and something prompting the player to stop clicking once the keys have been successfully acquired would be nice)

Some cutscenes have blank screens instead of the pictures, probably intentional but can get confusing at times, especially when there isn’t any guidance/tutorial informing players that they have to click through cutscenes. Even like… having a little arrow at the bottom of the screen would help immensely with that (personal recommendations of what i feel might communicate this best; arrow that bobs up & down, arrow that fades in a little while after the first image of a cutscene shows, or a label prompting the player to click)

Maybe some sort of timestamp thingie for save files if possible. Or some sort of something that marks files that have been saved to (if not a timestamp then maybe something that states where in the game you are, what puzzle/loop the player is at based on pre-existing triggers or variables)

During the “In relation to Eugene Coli, who…?” mini game, there is what appears to be a default grey scroller thing to the right of all the options (text boxes probably a smidge too big)

Can’t access notepad in tiny upstairs room

Kitchen key dialogue plays again when clicking the shelves after already obtaining a key. You don’t get another key, but the dialogue is still there

Right-clicking the door with the number lock then right-clicking the inventory space that shows up will immediately open the place to input the code (skips dialogue). Not necessarily something that needs to be fixed, but might cause issues elsewhere if the same thing happens with similar objects

If you click on Ángel while he’s chilling next to Vivi while you’re trying to solve the sticky note puzzle, he turns around. He turns back around when you exit/return or reset the room

Would be nice to have some way to cancel out accidental button clicks (for example accidentally clicking an object will have beeb walking there & will trigger the dialogue, it’d be nice if there was a way to cancel actions)

As soon as the second loop starts, pressing the spacebar ends the demo. Do not pass go do not collect 200 dollars

No way to exit to title screen from the demo page (was there in the accidental bug one i found but not the actual end of demo screen)

(The demo-related issues probably aren’t very high-priority since they are temporary, so don’t worry too much about fixing those issues since they’ll all jump ship when the full game is released 👍 just thought i’d include them here to be ~thorough~)

Okay that’s all i found!! I’ll probably do another run through at some point to mess around a bit and see if any other bugs show up. Good luck out there soldier 🫡 and thank you so much for making such an amazing game!!!! :D

Now THIS is a rat who knows how to pass the labyrinth!

I also enjoy the beebwords. She beebo'd beebily down the stairs.

I shall answer your concerns!!

This is actually 100% a personal thing, I dont like fullscreen in non 3rd person games, i loose sense of time too easily ): and I like having the ability to look at my notifications. But I'll poll it!

it's too cold to go out!! (unless there's a promise of cute guy?)

Ah yes, the space bar was a secret little key for test players. Backspace toggles "is dialogue running?", backspace reloads the whole room for big glitches. Congratulations! u found my secrets.

This is intentional, it is Beeb's first loop but not the house's >:3

If you talk to Nina again she tells you which door is which, although I've had other rats miss that, I'll see what I can do!

That's a good idea actually, also it shouldn't go back down once you reach the very top. Which evil code is causing this

I thought of that once a friend told me "I stayed 2 minutes looking at a blank screen thinking it was loading" Which is. incredibly funny to me but yeah I should do something about it. No comedy for me.

I also got advised to do that by a fellow rat, I might rember my save files but other people could forger (because i only use one save file). It's gonna be a bit difficult but I am ready I am not a coward I will code that thang!!

Thats a weird one, One of my rats got it but some didn't. I think it has to do with window resolution? I shall make them invisible

That's also intentional, it prevents a glitch, and it will happen in the future too! Nothing can stop my evil glitch-preventing ways.

I'm pretty sure I patched that in the latest release, but I will double check

I'm praying that my current fixes to the code solve that. if not. well. it be like that.

Well yeah, you poked him. hehe

That's very much feasible, although I fear people pressing it on accident and missing dialogue, which already happens just by being very trigger happy with the mouse

Nooo dont press the secret key only for big glitches randomly haha ur so sexy

Oh yeah at that point I expected the player to just. close the game. lmao. But i should probably implement it for the endings.

My rats.,.., they're working full time. I'm really tempted to just upload everything I have so people can tell me about bugs but no!! that's spoiling the fun!!

[shsl-box-worshipper]

I finally got TALW Origins betaread by two amazing people, @the-writing-artist and FP7ETDP43 of Discord. Thanks again for betareading, guys :D

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55386679/chapters/140525698

[shawnthebro]

Continuing with our project’s upgrades, we are addressing the character class! Let’s clean it up!

[queerbrainrot]

"X is so genderidentity-coded" this "Z is b-sexuality and i will fight people on this" that, "10001 reasons why character C is [insert sexuality, gender identity, disability etc.]" shmat.

can we just go back to saying "I headcanon this character as being X, Y, Z"

If I see one more person use "[insert disability, gender identity, sexuality]-coded" in context of

"I personally view them as [sexuality] and a representation of [sexuality] and it's a positive thing and I will be upset if someone disagrees"

My brain will melt.

No one will fight you over headcanons, but some people will fight you over saying that a canonically pansexual character is 'actually lesbian/asexual/gay etc.'

[fledermoved]

Do you ever have too many choices and obligations for things you should do that you've gotten to the point where you don't even know what you want to do so you just sit out in a lawn chair and shiver in the sun. Asking for a friend

[mackycheese]

i like editing for tvtropes not because it's a great platform for media analysis or because it's informative or for The Community or whatever. i like it because im autistic and not smart enough for wikipedia

i have nothing of value to add to any page on an obscure species of yeast, but when i accurately remember the events of a story, there's always another editor on tvtropes who thinks they do but doesn't and whose edit i get to correct. everything on wikipedia is already very standardized, but i got to alphabetize the work examples on several trope pages already.

not to mention there's plenty of obscure works that don't but very much could have a tvtropes page (no such thing as notability and all that)

[jesterwaves]

i wanted to finish v 2.0 of the little writing tracker i made but today i had so many ideas i wanted to try and implement so i spent the day ruining and fixing the code instead

but i can load images from the user path now

[oilyrotpile]

Realized that coding up random mods feels almost like writing fanfiction again.

[gagande]

Purecode | Adhering to these best practices for writing JSX code

Adhering to these best practices for writing JSX code can significantly improve the development experience and outcome of your React projects. By keeping components small, ensuring proper tag closure, using camelCase for properties, and applying other recommended strategies, you create a foundation for clean, efficient, and maintainable code. 

[neverendingford]

.

[n1pp]

quit brainrot. unfollow trolls. read essays. go down rabbit holes. have a calendar. maintain a todo list. read old books. watch old movies. turn on dnd. walk with intent. eat without youtube. chew more. train without music. plan for 15 mins. execute. organise your desk. take something seriously. read ancient scripts. act fast. find bread. eat clean. journal. save a life. learn to code. read poetry. create art. stay composed. refine your speech. optimise for efficiency. act sincere. help people. be kind. stop doing things that waste your time. follow your intuition. craft reputation. learn persuasion. systemise your day (or don't). write. write. write. write more. iterate violently. leave your phone at home. walk to the grocery store. talk to strangers. feed the dogs. visit bookstores. look for 1800s novels. experience art. then love. sit with a monk and offer them lunch. don't talk shit about people. embody virtue. sit alone. do something with your life. what do you want to create? turn off your mind. play. play a sport. combat sports. notice fonts in trees. fall in love. notice patterns on a table. visualise it. talk to people with respect. don't hate. be loving. be real. become yourself. cherrypick your qualities. discard the useless. rejections aren't permanent. invite what aligns. accept what does not. read great people. be different. choose different. do great work. let it consume you. lose your mind. value your time. experience life.

[relto]

having to revise your own code jungle is also not very pleasant.

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

Say my Name and Everything Just Stops

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts!reader

Summary: If Bob and you were only platonic, absolutely no other feelings… Then why do you feel sick to your stomach when he looks at her like that?

WC: 3.K

*Might have to remake this with more specifics to the song because I added the song after writing it because it lowkey fit the storyline a bit*

⸻

You weren’t sure when it happened.

One day, you were just another warm body at a mission briefing, nodding through tactical discussions, biting your tongue through Alexei’s grating pep talks and Valentia’s obligatory press training. You showed up, suited up, cleaned up, and tried not to get killed. That was the job. That was the team.

Then, somehow, somewhere along the line… you and Bob Reynolds got attached at the hip.

Not officially. Not romantically. Not even consciously, really. You didn’t talk about it. There were no glances across the room filled with meaning, no loaded conversations behind closed doors. It was never dramatic.

It was something quieter. Subtler. Like gravity.

If you were in the kitchen making coffee in the morning, hair tied back, hoodie halfway off your shoulder, still trying to blink the sleep from your eyes, Bob was always there, standing beside you like he’d been summoned. Making tea. Or at least pretending to. Half the time his mug stayed empty, forgotten on the counter while he hovered behind you, offering sugar before you even asked, or opening the fridge before you could.

He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t even particularly expressive. But he was there. His presence made the sterile, metal and glass Tower kitchen feel less like a military bunker and more like home. It was in the little things. The way he shifted when you reached past him. The way he knew how you liked your coffee and made sure no one else drank from your favorite mug. The way he stood just close enough that you could feel his heat at your back.

Game nights made it worse.

Or better, depending on who you asked.

Every week, like clockwork, someone would suggest it usually Alexei or Yelena, high on boredom and low on impulse control. Uno, Jenga, some Russian board game that none of you understood but that Alexei insisted was “better than Monopoly.”

No matter the game, no matter the teams, somehow you and Bob always ended up on the same side. It wasn’t on purpose. No one assigned you to him. It just… happened. You’d be sitting on opposite couches, and by the time the game began, you’d be side by side. Synced up. Aligned.

Charades became a blood sport. You and Bob didn’t even need words. One raised eyebrow from you, and he was guessing the entire plot of The Matrix. He mimed a single motion, and you blurted out Jaws before anyone else even understood it was a movie.

“I don’t even know how they’re communicating,” John muttered one night, tossing a card at Bucky. “They didn’t say a word. Are they cheating? They’re probably cheating.”

“Y/N and Bob have their own frequency,” Ava mumbled from the corner, arms folded but the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth.

Then came the promo events.

Photoshoots. Talk shows. Those absurd staged press moments where Valentina shoved you all into matching black tactical gear and called it “branding.”

You and Bob migrated toward each other like it was coded into your DNA. Unconscious. Effortless.

Cameras flashed and you were already beside him your shoulder brushing his arm, his hand resting just near the small of your back, not touching, but almost. Always almost. And somehow, no matter how stiff or awkward he looked beside the rest of the team, when he stood next to you, Bob’s shoulders loosened just enough. His eyes softened. His lips curved, barely.

Protective. Steady. Yours.

That’s how it felt.

And still, you told yourself it wasn’t anything.

Just comfort. Just familiarity.

But at night when the compound dimmed, and the war room was dark, and the wind whispered against the windows you started to hear it.

The softest knock. A pause. Then the door creaking open.

He never needed to ask.

He stepped inside like he didn’t want to make a sound, curls still damp from a rushed shower, wearing the same old hoodie that hung loose on his tall frame. Sometimes he’d say your name like a question. Most nights, he just climbed into your bed with a sigh so deep it curled in your chest.

He never reached for you. Not at first.

He just drifted closer, closer until his forehead was resting on your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin, his body folding around you like ivy.

And you’d always find your fingers in his hair. Threading, soothing, grounding. Like they were meant to be there. Like you’d done it a thousand times.

He always fell asleep that way. The Sentry. The most powerful being on Earth. Curled up around you, clinging to the quiet, tucked in by your heartbeat.

And you thought you were subtle. You thought it was private.

You thought no one knew.

Until the night John Walker walked in.

You’d been half asleep, humming something soft while combing your fingers through Bob’s tangled curls. He was a deadweight against you, long limbs twisted around yours, chest rising in the steady rhythm of someone deep, deep asleep.

The door slammed open.

“Y/N! You gotta see the new tech—I finished the—”

He froze.

You cracked an eye open.

Bob didn’t even stir.

And John… just stood there, blinking. Processing. His mouth opened and closed twice before he backed out like he’d walked in on a hostage negotiation.

“…I’ll come back later,” he muttered, nearly tripping over your laundry basket on the way out.

That was the end of the secret.

The next morning at breakfast, the teasing came with knives.

Yelena leaned across the table with a smug little grin. “So… Bob. Y/N. How long has the co-sleeping initiative been active?”

You choked on your coffee. Nearly died.

Bob flushed so red his ears matched his hoodie.

Ava didn’t even try to hide her smirk. “Please. We’ve all seen it. They’re like cats. Always draped over each other. It’s gross. It’s adorable. I hate it.”

“Just don’t bring it on the jet,” John muttered into his eggs. “Some of us like to fly without PDA-induced nausea.”

You didn’t answer. Neither did Bob.

You didn’t have to.

It wasn’t like that, you told yourself.

It was just Bob. It was just you.

But when your eyes met across the kitchen when his hand brushed yours reaching for the honey, and his fingertips lingered just a little longer than necessary, you wondered if maybe it wasn’t just anything.

Maybe it was everything.

And you’d just been too scared to name it.

⸻

Until the charity gala.

You’d pulled out all the stops.

The gown was custom silk that hugged every curve like it was made for you (because it was), with a low, sloping back that shimmered under the chandelier light like molten metal. The color was blood-red, deliberate. You wore it with graceful confidence . Your hair was swept into soft waves that kissed your collarbones. And your eyes, lined lit with something vulnerable and electric, scanned the ballroom for one person.

Bob Reynolds.

He arrived late.

Tugging awkwardly at the cuffs of a tailored suit that fit too well for how uncomfortable he looked in it. Hair combed, clean shaven, tall as hell and radiating nervous energy. You turned the moment he walked in.

He stopped in the doorway when he saw you.

And for the briefest second, everything else in the glittering, champagne soaked ballroom dimmed. His eyes locked on yours across the crowd and something passed between you. Something that hit you low in the chest, unspoken and sharp. You almost smiled.

But then he looked away.

Fast. Like it burned. And he didn’t approach. Not even close. In fact, every time you started to drift toward his side of the room, champagne in hand, casual and hopeful he moved. Ducking away under the guise of conversation or needing air. It was obvious. Painfully so. He was avoiding you.

By the time everyone was seated and smiling for cameras at the table, your chest ached from it.

Had you misunderstood everything?

The closeness, the late nights, the way he always reached for you without thinking, was that just friendship? Just comfort? Had you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole team?

And then came the woman.

An older socialite, jeweled and charming, grabbed Bob by the elbow with a too-knowing smile. She gestured to a girl in satin blue, pretty, long-limbed, her laugh high and flirtatious. Bob looked panicked for a split second. Then he smiled. Small. Polite. He let the woman lead him away.

From across the ballroom, you watched.

The girl touched his arm. He leaned in to hear her. Laughed at something she said. All the alcohol he downed making his eye contact extremely well, didn’t matter that he looked a little stiff. A little out of place. From where you were standing, it looked like he could love her.

And it broke you.

You didn’t say goodbye. Just slipped your clutch under your arm and moved. Valentina caught your elbow at the door.

“Where are you going? You haven’t even spoken to—”

“I don’t feel well,” you said, voice brittle.

“Y/N—”

But you were already gone.

⸻

The Tower was silent when you returned.

You didn’t turn on the lights. Didn’t go to your room. Just stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the roof like muscle memory.

The city stretched below you in a haze of gold and glass. Cold wind bit at your shoulders through the fabric of your dress, but you didn’t care. You needed the air. The silence. The distance from the noise in your head.

Why had he avoided you? Did you look bad? Did he regret all those nights he spent in your bed not with you, but beside you? Holding onto you like you were his only anchor?

You blinked hard against the tears stinging your lashes.

Don’t cry. Don’t be stupid. You’re not sixteen.

The door creaked behind you.

You didn’t move. But your heart knew.

Bob.

He stepped out slow, breath ragged, suit jacket flapping slightly in the wind. His tie was crooked. His hair was messy. He looked like he’d been running.

“You left,” he said quietly, almost breathless.

“I did,” you murmured, arms crossed against the chill.

“I couldn’t find you.”

“I saw you,” you replied, voice sharper than you meant. “You were busy.”

A pause.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“I’m not stupid,” you snapped. “She was gorgeous. Polished. Exactly the kind of girl a mother would want for her son-in-law.”

He flinched. “That’s not what I want.”

“No?” You turned now, eyes shining in the low rooftop light. “Because you looked like you were having a great time. Like you were relieved not to be around me.”

“I was avoiding you.”

That stopped you cold.

“I know.”

Bob took a step closer, then another. “You walked into that room and I forgot how to breathe. You were… radiant. Like something out of a dream I wasn’t supposed to be having. And all I could think was, Don’t ruin this. Don’t touch her. Don’t make it weird. So I panicked.”

You stared, wind whipping your hair around your face.

“You avoided me because I looked nice?”

“I avoided you,” he said, stepping right into your space, “because if I didn’t, I was going to tell you I loved you. In front of Valentina. And three senators. And six photographers.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

He laughed, but it was soft. Raw.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Y/N. I can’t think straight when you’re near me. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep unless I’m next to you. You touch me just, like, hand on my arm or fingers in my hair and the world goes quiet. You make me feel like I’m not broken.”

“Bob…” you whispered, tears threatening again.

He took your hands gently. “I don’t know when it happened. I just know I’m in love with you. And if I messed this up tonight… I’m sorry. But I had to tell you.”

You let out a laugh. Choked and wet and unbelieving.

“You idiot,” you said, pressing your forehead to his. “You beautiful, stupid, sweet idiot. I’ve been in love with you since the first time you handed me coffee without asking how I take it.”

His breath hitched. “You have?”

“Obviously.”

The kiss came easy.

Soft, like first light. Like every moment between you had been leading to this, every brush of hands, every shared blanket, every look across the table when no one else was watching. He cupped your face like it was sacred. You buried your hands in his curls like they belonged there. Because they did.

The city sparkled below. And in the quiet, with the wind, and the stars above, the noise finally stopped.

⸻

You woke up in his arms the next morning. Again.

Only this time, your lipstick was smudged on his jaw. His tie was still on your bedroom floor. And when Bucky walked in to grab the TV remote, he paused at the sight of you two curled up, a sleepy smile tugging at his mouth.

“About damn time,” he muttered, shutting the door again.

Neither of you moved.

You were too busy holding onto everything you’d been scared to lose.

—

A/N: PLEASE I NEED MORE IDEAS OR LIKE SONGS TO WRITE THINGS BASED OFF 💔