#data structure assignment help

[helpmyassignment028]

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[singletutor]

Assistance with Data Structure Assignments

Data Structure Assignment Help

Computer science students must comprehend data structures. Because this subject is so significant in computer science, you should know it. If not, our data structure assignment help is best.

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Data structures and algorithms must be developed, analysed, and implemented by programming students to solve engineering problems.

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All data structure courses and projects assume students can solve any data structure challenge. Data structure assignments are among the hardest for students. Students today must do extracurriculars, work part-time, and finish assignments on time.

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Data structures help organise digital data in computers. The most common data structures include arrays, stacks, queues, linked lists, and trees. Data structures organise data to enhance storage, retrieval, manipulation, and management.

The data structure topic has two main complimentary goals:

Determining the class of difficulties that functional mathematical operations can address for altering data entities and the best representations for abstract operations.

Arrays, stacks, queues, and linked lists are linear data structures.

Common data structure operations:

Traversing a structure to access each data item

Searching a collection for information

Insertion and deletion: Adding or removing data from an existing collection

Sorting requires ordering data.

merge: combining two structures.

Find out how data structure types differ from data types and other topics by reading on.

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There are many unique data structures. Thus, if you struggle with concepts, programming, logic, and math, you require data structure assignment help.

[helpmyassignments01]

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[gyuswhore]

Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

[full fic here]

kim mingyu x reader

est. word count: 10-15k [fat chance]

est. release date: 10th September

warnings: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [MINORS DNI], angst, statistics, more to be added in final post

synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

‼️ JOIN THE TAGLIST by sending an ask or replying under this post. AGE INDICATORS ON YOUR BLOG ARE NECESSARY. ‼️

[a/n]: first look into the TA collab fic!!! @camandemstudios has been along time in the making and I cant wait for you all to read all of the fics in full. accept this piece offering from me and please let me know what you think of it so far!

masterlist

“Right. How can I help you?”

Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him. 

One look at the sparse format of the cover page, Mingyu blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page. 

“It’s a 37,” you inform him like he couldn’t see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell. 

“Do you think you deserved a better grade?” he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he genuinely wanted to know. 

It stumps you regardless.

“Well…I know I can do better, at least,” you decide to answer. 

“You’re here, which means you’re at least willing to try. That’s a start,” he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and wording were the problem.”

“You marked them?”

He raises his brow, “I hope that wasn’t an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.”

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

“He’s…supposed to.” There’s a forced reservedness in his voice. “I mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But I’m not sure you’d fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.”

Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise you’re at a loss for words. 

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes as the next words leave you in a low voice, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he says it everyday. “We’ll work through it.”

He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand. 

Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.

“Lab reports can be quite tricky if you aren’t sure what you’re doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?”

You mean the one that did nothing to help? “Yes.”

“You got those bits right, format and whatnot. But—”

“It was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,” you say plainly.

Mingyu lips are in a tight line. “Well, yes, but it helps—”

“I know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I don’t need a PDF to tell me that,” you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. “I want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

“He can’t even mark his own papers. I’m quite sure that’s not in your job description. It’s supposed to be him here. Not you.”

It’s silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyu’s fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger. 

“And yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.” He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. “And, better that I’m here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.”

Help, he did. 

Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered different colours of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag. 

It’s only then that you spot the segregated stack of papers in your bag that you remember. 

“I almost forgot,” you say, grabbing the pile and placing it in front of him. 

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply. 

“You left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,” you say, before quickly adding, “There was a class right after you left. I took them off the professor’s hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.”

“I’ve been looking all over for these,” he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. “Thank you.”

You flush for some reason, “O–of course, couldn’t just leave them there.”

It isn’t till you’re pushing yourself out of your chair that he says something. “You can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He’s stood up as well. “I have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.” 

Feet planted on the ground, there’s not much you can do but stare. “Um, sure. I can come in a little early.”

He nods casually, “Thanks again for the papers. And the watch.”

You smile, “No problem.”

[communistkenobi]

struggling to reconcile my dislike of the use of “choice” in relation to transgenderism. sex assignment itself is not a choice and I don’t find it meaningful or helpful to think I “chose” to be transgender. in fact there were many things I “chose” to do prior to transitioning to make this feeling go away and it did not. Choice is further wrapped up in intentionally de-politicised ideas about social action and agency, constantly positioned in opposition to “structure” or “social pressure” or what have you. “Choice” is what happens only in the absence of domination, it is the expression of the “individual” trapped within us all. What this leaves you with is a subject who appears to rise above the power of history, making decisions ‘of his own free will’ in spite of all this violence as a result of, um, well that’s not important! Let’s not look at the law or the state or history to see where these ideas of personal individual freedoms come from or how they are themselves enforced through violence. It’s just an individual acting on his desires! To “choose to be trans” in popular consciousness means to be given the privilege of being free from patriarchal social pressures. And this is a line terfs often use - trans people are reinforcing patriarchy by deluding ourselves into thinking we can “simply choose” to be another gender. I think committing to the idea of choice as a concept and all its attendant ideological baggage (overwhelmingly structured by bourgeois legal frameworks in the popular imaginary) forces you into some deeply flawed analyses of power and domination.

And I likewise hate that the other dominant framework is “born this way/born in the wrong body” because of how it naturalises the very political and violent nature of sex assignment and its embeddedness within state census data, administrative architecture, the pathologisation of sex and desire (all of which are not natural or eternal), and so on. furthermore I deeply respect the position other trans people have when they say that they chose to be transgender - outside of conversations of individual validity, I think that is a politically useful and powerful way to position yourself. Even if we were to accept that being transgender is fully a choice, people would still do it, because being trans is not disgusting or shameful. I am not a sick individual, or a tragedy, or a danger to others, I am transgender and that is an incredibly meaningful and fulfilling part of my life. To frame this as a sexual perversion or life-long condition means reinforcing the idea that transgenderism is a shameful deformity (we have much in common with our disabled & intersex comrades in this regard), that the cissexual body is the exclusive site of beauty and authenticity.

And so this is where I find the idea of autonomy much more useful - while ‘choice’ is situated as a thing that individuals do, autonomy is power that is granted to you. I can’t meaningfully demand choice as a political goal, but I can demand autonomy. I don’t want choice, I want the autonomy to act on my desires, and the way that will happen is through the state provision of free hrt, surgery, name and gender marker changes, and so on. Autonomy feels like a much more productive articulation of “choice” because it necessitates that we think about who and what grants autonomy, for what purposes, in which contexts. Who gives a shit about choices! Transgenderism is not a social position an individual can have in society, it is produced through cissexualism, through state and medical sex assignment, through coercion and pathologisation and violence - all of which can be changed.

As a direct comparison, I don’t think people should be given the “choice” to have an abortion, but the autonomy to do so - sure you can choose to get one, but unless there is the medical, financial, and social infrastructure available to you to act on that decision, then that is not a meaningful choice you can “make.” Abortion being legal (and therefore an action you are granted the ‘choice’ to take) doesn’t mean it is actually realisable as a decision, it just means that whoever already has the power & resources to act on that legality will, and those that don’t, won’t. Who decides which people have those resources and which don’t? Well let’s not worry about that, the important thing is that people have choices!

[drdemonprince]

I was never really certain about my transition in the way that most gatekeeping hormone prescribers and curious members of the public demand that a trans person be. I didn’t “always know” that I was not cisgender. I haven’t “always known” anything about myself. Very few truths about me have always remained true, my existence is too interpersonal, contextual, and ever-evolving for all of that. (So is most everyone else’s, I think). I don’t think that the fact I’d eventually choose to exercise my body autonomy at age 30 by taking hormones is a decision I could have foreseen when I was a child. All that I knew about being transgender when I was a kid was a fact that most children intuitively know: gender assignment was a violation of my freedom, of everyone’s freedom in fact, and it was wrong. As an infant and then a child and teenager, people kept imposing labels on me; they kept forcing me and my body into prescribed gendered boxes, and while the specific labels and boxes never really felt like the right ones, the most disturbing part about it all was the forcing. No coerced identity would have ever felt right. Children can tell when secrets are being kept from them, and when adults are restricting their choices. They notice that they and the other children are being lined up boy-girl, boy-girl, without ever being told what a girl or a boy even is. They can see their parents frowning when they reach for the doll with the shimmery hair, or climb atop the neighbor kid on the playground. Kids know that they are forbidden from sitting with their legs spread wide or flicking their wrist, and their gender illegibility is shamed in them, long before they get any answers about what gender means or where it comes from or why it’s so important that they make themselves easy to understand.

Like the cloned children in Never Let Me Go who grow up being conditioned for a life of forced organ donation, children in a cissexist society grow up conditioned to fall within certain gendered boundary lines, and by the time they learn that the reason for this is almost completely arbitrary, they can’t imagine any alternative. Not until some of them hear about gender transition and find the prospect very compelling, for some reason. You can say that reason is because some of us are inherently trans, but there’s absolutely nothing in the way of brain science, genetics research, or even sociological data to back that up. Besides, the search for a biological “reason” that people are transgender or queer runs counter to the goal of queer liberation in the long run. Science only needs to explain the existence of transgender people (or queer people more broadly) if our existence is in some way aberrant or a problem. If queerness is accepted as a form of human diversity that simply exists, then there is no need to excuse it by claiming that it is never a choice. It can be a choice, if a person wants to make it, and hopefully it satisfies them, but maybe it won’t. Freedom to choose means freedom to forever be dissatisfied, to search endlessly for more, and yes, to capable of making a mistake. I would say that viewing myself as transgender was a choice. I decided to break away from the straight, female categories to which I had been assigned, and doing so allowed me to view the legal and societal power structures that had restricted me more clearly. It helped me better understand myself. But that does not mean the actual act of breaking away was always the truest reflection of who I am. The version of me that transitioned was a person on the run ��� and how a person behaves, thinks, and self-conceives when they are fleeing is not a great reflection of whom they might be if they were safe. If we all lived in a world free from mandatory gender assignment, and where our bodies were not mined for meaning about the kinds of sex we liked, the clothing we should wear, the personality qualities we have, the roles we should play in society, and the connections we are allowed to form with others, who knows who each of us might be. But none of us get to live in that world, or ever gets completely free from the frameworks of heterosexuality and the gender binary. These frameworks shape every legal institution we encounter, every school we attend, every item of clothing we put on, every substance we take into our bodies, every piece of paperwork that ever gets printed about us, and every look another person ever gives us. And so we make due with rewriting and recombining those frameworks as best we can. It should come as no surprise that those us who break away from the binary have to experiment and revise how we understand ourselves quite a bit — sometimes getting things “wrong,” sometimes searching forever for the semblance of something “right.” Sometimes reveling in the “wrongness” of all the available options is kind of the point.

I wrote about my detransition, retransition, and the eternal dissatisfaction that is probably the corest truth of my identity. It's free to read or have narrated to you on my Substack.

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 1

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 4.8K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut (in later chapters). Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind maybe. Sylus being hot and a menace.

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You’d woken up too early. One of those mornings where your eyes snapped open and your brain decided to start doing laps well before the sun even bothered to show up. Anticipation thrummed under your skin, buzzing through your veins like static. There was a charged suspense hovered in the air. Everyone at the Hunter’s Association could sense it. Something big was coming. 

Captain Jenna had pulled you aside before you left work the night before, quiet voice and sharp eyes. “Come and see me first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve got new mission details for you.” This was not a suggestion. It was an order, one that came wrapped in secrecy and spelled out nothing good. 

So you did what you always did when nerves got the better of you: breakfast, workout, shower. All before sunrise. You’d regret it later when you were half-asleep at your desk, but at least the routine helped. 

Now, sitting across from Captain Jenna, in the dim glow of the ops room, you weren’t so sure.

She didn’t speak at first,, just scrolled through her data pad, the flickering blue light casting harsh shadows across her face. Her expression was unreadable, as always, but her gaze had a new edge, sharper than usual, more assessing. 

You were used to mission briefings, had gone through so many in the past, but something about this one felt different, heavier. Dangerous. 

Finally, she spoke. “The N109 zone.” She didn’t look up. “What do you know about it?”

You blinked. “Uh… I've heard rumours, mostly. I’ve read reports, but I’ve never been there.”

Jenna hummed. “It’s not a place people walk into and survive. Especially not outsiders.” 

You sat up a little straighter, fingers twitching in your lap. “I think I understand how it all works out there. The risks.”

“You don’t.” She tapped the pad and a projection flared to life between you. The N109 zone.  Sprawling clusters of decrepit structures, flickering neon lights and seedy underground hubs all compiled together in a city whose streets more resembled veins than roads. It looked almost abandoned but everyone knew that the N109 zone was far from empty. 

“This is where we’re sending you.” 

Your stomach twisted. Reports and projections weren’t necessary to know what the N109 was about. Everyone in the Association knew. It was the underworld’s favourite playground. Smugglers, mercs, traffickers. The worst of the worst. And at the centre of it all-

“Sylus Qin,” Captain Jenna said, like she’d read your mind. “He runs the zone like it’s his personal empire. And we want him.”

You froze. 

Sylus Qin. 

You’d heard stories, of course, everyone had. He had the type of reputation that entirely preceded him. Brilliant. Brutal. Untouchable. He was the reason for countless operations that turned south and why some hunters categorically refused to even enter the N109 zone. 

“We’re assigning you to bring him in,” Captain Jenna said. 

Everything in your head jammed to a stop. “Me?”

She switched off the projections and fixed you with a steely gaze, one betraying the seriousness of the conversation, as if you had at all misunderstood. 

"This is a high-stakes operation. The Hunter’s Association has been trying to bring Sylus in for years, but he’s too careful. He doesn’t make mistakes. He keeps his allies close and his enemies firmly in check. No one’s managed to get near him. We need you to do what others couldn’t. Get close, make him trust you enough to come willingly." 

It was a death sentence. 

You were sure of it. 

Your hesitation must have shown on your face, understandably so. 

Jenna sighed, her eyes softening a touch at your clear hesitance. “You were personally recommended. By me.”

It didn’t help, but you nodded anyway. 

“He’s not careless,” she continued. “He doesn’t let people get close. Beautiful you can… earn his trust. Get him comfortable. Make him want to come in. That's the mission.”

A laugh had to be stifled at the implication. “You want me to seduce him?”

“I want you to survive,” she said flatly.”if that’s what it takes to make that happen, then… yes.”

Dread, or something worse, crept down your spine. 

“He reads people like books,” she added. “So you better be a damn convincing character.” 

You schooled your features into something resembling calm, even as your brain scrambled for solid ground. “Right. And once I’ve got his trust… I lead him to an extraction point? We arrest him?”

“Exactly. Quietly. Cleanly. No backup. No heroics.”

“No pressure,” you muttered. 

Jenna didn’t even blink at the tone in your voice. “Sylus has outplayed every trap we've set. He’s dismantled teams mid-mission, burned entire networks to the ground and decimated his rivals in inconceivable ways. But he will never see you coming. That’s the angle here.” 

You rubbed a thumb over your palmtrying to smother the nerves crawling under your skin. “And what happens if he does see me coming? If he figures it out, I mean?” 

Her gaze sharpened. “Then you die. Plain and simple.” 

A lovely little motivational poster, that.

She stood, shutting down the data pad and any chance at trying to convince her this was a bad idea. “You’ve been assigned an alias. Equipment’s prepped. Mission begins tomorrow.”

“Why me though?”

“You’ve got a history of slipping into tight spaces and making people trust you.” A pause. “And you’re one of the few who hasn't been on his radar. Yet You’re adaptable. You’ve been at the HA for a long time, never failed in a covert mission and that’s been noticed. By people higher-up .” 

“The Association is sure this will work?" you asked.

Jenna narrowed her gaze, her lips pressed into a hard line. "No. But it’s the best chance we’ve got. The truth is, Sylus is too dangerous to let his network grow any further. The higher-ups have made it clear, they’d prefer him alive. Alive and arrested. If you succeed, this will be the biggest takedown in recent history. You’d be rewarded of course.” Her implication is clear, the promotion you'd been after for years.

You nodded, doubt creeping in. "And if I fail?"

"You won’t." The steel in her voice was unyielding. "Failure isn’t an option. Sylus doesn’t give second chances, and neither do we. You know that.”

The silence suffocated. The mission’s weight crushing the air from your lungs. For a moment, you questioned whether you were truly ready for this,  whether anyone could be. 

“I’ll bring him in,” you said, steady enough.

Jenna gave a short nod. “See that you do.”

You weren’t sure why you’d come out, honestly. Distraction?Denial? Probably both. The bar was buzzing. Neon lights, the low hum of music and the accompanying murmur of too many hunters half-drunk and half-broken. You’d earned a few hours to pretend. 

Back in training, after gruelling missions, this was where your cohort came to breathe.

Tara slid into the booth beside you, like she owned the place, draping  her arm around your shoulder, a drink in her hand. A mischievous smile tugged at her lips as she pulled you in tighter. "You’re going after Sylus freakin’ Qin! I still can’t believe it," she hissed into your ear. 

You gave her a side-eyed stare, barely suppressing a smirk. “Could you say it a little louder, Tara? I don't think the entire bar heard.” 

She snorted, an inelegant but simultaneously adorable sound that only she could pull off. “Oh, puh-lease. Like half the people in here aren’t already gossiping about it.”

You sipped your drink, hoping it’d dull the creeping anxiety. 

“So much for confidential,” you said simply. “Nothing stays a secret long around here.” 

You breathed out a laugh. “I’m not even sure why they picked me for this.” Despite Jenna’s recommendation, others were more experienced. So why you?

Tara gave you a playful shove, your drink sloshing around and threatening to spill as she did so. "Are you kidding? You're a total badass! If anyone can take that on and come out alive, it’s you." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Besides, I heard Sylus is ridiculously hot.”

You choked slightly. “Tara!”

“I’m just saying!” she continued, giggling loudly and brightly. “If you end up in close-quarters, you know really up close and personal, I expect details.”

Xavier, sitting across the table and pretending not to listen, let out a loud cough as he choked on his drink. 

“Oh my god, don’t start. It’s really not like that.” You muttered, trying to drink your grin away.

"But it could be!" She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a teasing whisper. "Think about it. A tall, sexy man. Dangerous, brooding, probably smells like gunpowder and leather…"

“Please,” you groaned. “You’re projecting again.”

Tara wiggled her brows. “I’m manifesting.”

Before you could shut her down again, Xavier’s voice cut through the banter. Quiet , even, but with that unmistakable edge that always made you look twice. 

Xavier finally looked up from his drink, eyes cool but a little too focused. “You know the N109 zone’s not like your other missions, right?”

You didn’t answer right away. His worry scratched at something in your chest.

"Just… be careful."

You looked over. He was still holding his drink, staring at it like it held answers. Eyes lowered, jaw tight. 

“You won’t have backup, and Sylus… he’s a different kind of threat."

His words were thick with an unspoken heaviness, like something else was riding on them. Xavier had always been like this. Quiet concern, wrapped up in something softer, something harder to name. 

"I know,” you said. “I’ll be fine. Captain Jenna wouldn’t have assigned me if she didn’t think I could handle it.”

Tara scoffed, leaned back in her chair with a dramatic eye roll. "Please, Xavier. She’s not a rookie. She’s a grown ass woman. She can handle herself. Besides, she’s not going to let some psycho in a leather coat throw her off her game, even if he does have a jawline sharp enough to perform surgery."

You chuckled under your breath, the edge in your nerves blunted just a little. 

But Xavier’s frown only deepened. "I just don’t like the idea of you going in alone," he said, refocusing his attention on you properly. “I’d feel better if you had some sort of backup."

You sighed, thumb circling the rim of your glass. "It’s a solo mission, Xav. That’s part of the deal. I’m supposed to gain his trust, remember? How can I do that with you hovering around in the background or Tara creaming herself at the mere sight of him?" You tried to lighten the mood, but Xavier’s expression didn’t change. 

“I would cream myself,” Tara uttered cheerfully, not even ashamed. "Actually, gaining his trust…" she added, suddenly humming under her breath. "Mama, I’m in love with a criminal…"

You snorted, shaking your head. “You’re insufferable.”

Tara grinned, proud at her attempt to lighten the mood. “Someone’s gotta keep this place entertaining.” 

Xavier didn’t laugh. His gaze said too much without saying anything at all.  "Just… don’t do anything reckless, okay?"

You met his eyes. That thing, whatever lived behind his concern, was still there. Hovering. Waiting. 

He’d always been protective. Maybe a little too much. You appreciated it.But it made you bristle. Like he was waiting for you to break. He should’ve known you better by now. 

"I won’t," you said, keeping your voice level even as the air between you shifted.

Tara, clinked her glass against yours with a grin. "Cheers to you! The only person brave enough to flirt with death and hopefully get felt up in the process of bringing down the most wanted, sexy criminal!”

You laughed, letting the pressure crack for a moment. "You’re impossible."

"And proud of it," she quipped right back. 

The conversation drifted after that, skimming lighter waters. You let yourself get swept up in the celebration with the music from the bar filling in the gaps between conversations, for a while, you let yourself forget about tomorrow. About the N109 zone. About the fact that you might not come back. 

But then you caught Xavier watching again. Quiet and unreadable. Something still unsaid, still sitting behind his eyes. 

You swallowed, the words falling out like a reflex.

"I’ll be fine," you said again, quieter this time. Almost to yourself.

Xavier didn't push. Didn’t argue. He just raised his glass, his voice soft and steady. "To your success,” he said. “And your safety."

Tara beamed, “To the girl who’s gonna take down the galaxy’s hottest criminal and live to give me every filthy detail.” 

You clinked glasses. Smiled, and tried not to let the unease ruin the taste of victory.

Your first day in the N109 zone was, in a word, disastrous.

The unease started before you even crossed the city line. Slow and cloying, like humidity that stuck to your skin and refused to let go. The air was thicker here. Tighter. Charged with tension, secrets and the kind of danger that stays quiet. Street lights flickered with erratic pulses, casting shadows that writhed and pulsed across cracked pavements. The sky above was bruised and murky, tinged with the threat of a sunrise that would never happen. 

You’d read the files. Done the prep. But none of that could’ve prepared you for this. 

You pulled up the map on your Hunter’s watch, keeping your head low as you moved deeper into the district. The glowing display lighting-up in the half-dark, acting almost like a torch lighting your way. 

Information flowed like a murky river in the N109 zone, and every face you passed felt like a mask hiding something sinister. Their eyes slid past, knowing looks, cold, dismissive. You didn’t belong. 

The first few contacts led nowhere. Dead ends. One after the other that led deeper into the seedy underbelly of the district. Conversations fizzled into silence, doors slammed before a word left your mouth. No one wanted to talk, and even fewer wanted to talk about him. 

You lingered outside a rundown bar, trying to recalibrate. You were drowning in it, completely out of your depth. 

“Hey, you new around here?” a rough-looking man asked, eyeing you as he lingered in the doorway. His crooked smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

You didn’t flinch. “Just looking for information.”

He chuckled, the sound sending spit flying in your direction. “Yeah?” he said when he finally collected himself from the hilarity of the conversation so far. “Then you’ll wanna stop wearing that.” he gestured lazily to your clothes. 

You bristled at the implication. This could go bad fast. He chuckled again at your clear discomfort. “You stick out like a bright, shiny cop.�� 

Relief crept in as the threat passed. Your shoulders eased. You looked at yourself. HA issued boots, jacket, gear just subtle enough to pass in a normal area. But this wasn't a normal area. It was the N109 zone. 

“Duly noted.”

“And what information are you looking for anyway?” he asked, his tone turning casual. 

You paused, mulling over your next words carefully. “Sylus Qin.” 

His expression shifted the second the name left your mouth. The amusement vanishing. His jaw tightened. “Don't say his name like that,” he muttered. “He’s not the guy you wanna be messin’ with, sweetheart.” 

You stiffened, but stayed silent. 

“Best advice you’re gonna get today?” he turned to leave. “Stop asking about him.”

Then he was gone, swallowed by the never ending shadows. 

You stood there for a moment, frustration bleeding through your mask. This wasn’t working. You needed to be smarter. Subtler. Starting tomorrow, you’d change everything. It was time to ditch the uniform, blend in, move like the locals. All black. No insignia. Eyes open. Mouth shut.

Because what the files could never tell you about this place, was that the N109 zone wasn’t just dangerous. It was alive. It hated outsiders. And the beating heart of it was Sylus Qin

By the time night fell, your nerves were frayed and your instincts were screaming at you to get as far away as you could. So you cut your losses and made your way back to Linkon, head down, heart racing. 

You leaned against the wall of your living room and stared at your watch, willing the day to make sense. It didn’t.

The mission felt less like infiltration and more like walking into quicksand. 

The darkness of the N109 zone was not just a backdrop, it was an entity that clung to you, whispering of your inexperience and vulnerability. 

The days that followed weren’t much easier, just quieter. A strange familiarity began to wave into your routine. You stopped trying to push and started watching instead. Listening. Adapting. 

This is what you were good at. 

A strange sense of routine began to weave itself into your days. Slipping into seedy businesses where no one asked names and everyone was armed, became your norm. The subtle nuances of the district's unspoken rules and underhanded dealings revealed themselves little by little. And slowly, you learned how to navigate the complexities of the very top layer of the N109 zone. 

You tried to blend in, just enough to rouse a few glances, never suspicion. You honed your investigative instincts. 

Eavesdropping in beat-up coffee shops, letting yourself fade into the background, until slowly, the district started to shift around you. Not welcoming exactly, but less hostile. You learned the rhythm of the place. Where not to walk. When to keep your eyes down. Who to avoid. 

And the whispers started to take shape. 

Shipments. Deals. Power shifts. Him. 

“It’s near the old foundry,” a waitress murmured one afternoon, passing a coded envelope to a greasy looking regular.  “He runs things from a compound, in one of them old manor houses. He keeps to himself mostly, but you’ll know it when you see it. Just follow the road past the southern docks.”

That was all you needed. 

Your pulse spiked, a rush of determination thrumming through your veins. You wanted to run out and chase down the new lead, but you kept your composure. Keep it casual. You sipped your drink, stood up slowly and made your move. 

A first move on a chessboard that you hadn’t even discovered yet. 

You found the estate easier than expected.

It stood, proud and tall, just beyond the southern docks, like something from another era. A manor really, an old stately home, refurbished but not flashy. Its structure loomed tall against the decay around it, its wrought-iron gates polished, its exterior immaculate in a way that felt… deliberate. A calculated flex. 

The house seemed to hum with unspoken arrogance. I don't need to hide. I own this place. 

This was Onychinus’ base of operations. And the home of Sylus Qin. 

You watched from across the street, half-shrouded in shadow, your breath catching in your throat as movement stirred near the gate. 

Finally, you saw him. 

Sylus. 

No confirmation needed. You just knew. 

He stepped out from a side building, blazer draped over his broad shoulders like a goddamn magazine cover. His silver hair tousled in that perfect, reckless way that made it look like he either didn’t care or had killed the last person who tried to touch it. His red eyes scanned the streets. No urgency. No paranoia. Just… command. 

He walked like a man who never needed to run. There was nothing in the galaxy that could challenge him, so why would that ever be needed. 

Too tall. The kind of height that shrank everyone around him, physically, psychologically, spiritually. And it wasn’t just the height. It was the way he moved. Fluid and calculated. Each step made with deliberate grace and dangerous intent. His steps were quiet, but you felt them. Measured. Controlled. Dangerous. 

His presence, even from such a distance, was commanding. 

Your eyes betrayed you. 

Blame Tara and her thirsty little fantasies.

They trailed down. To his arms, his sleeves rolled up just enough to show the tension in his forearms. Veins, tendons, lines that shouldn’t be distracting. The shirt was slim-fitting, the material clinging to him like it was lucky to be there. 

Your brain short-circuited at his proportions. Broad chest. Narrow waist. The ratio alone should’ve been illegal. Every line of him was sculpted like some bored deity decided to make a man too attractive for his own damn good. You blinked hard, tried to reel it in. 

And then… his hands. 

Strong. Elegant. The kind of hands that could probably dismantle a gun in five seconds flat, or dismantle you in half that time. Hands like those had always been your weakness. You could imagine exactly how they’d feel, tracing your- nope. You shut that thought down immediately. 

He was a criminal. A warlord. A manipulative psychopath with a kill count longer than your resume. His hands, as beautiful as they were, had more blood on them than you could ever imagine. There was nothing innocent about them.

And yet… you couldn’t look away.

No one could. He walked in a room and people reacted, it wasn’t in fear or reverence. It was gravity. A directional pull of people towards him. 

Your eyes snapped back up. 

His face was angled slightly away, but even in profile, you saw enough. Sharp jaw, cleanly shaven and skin so smooth it would’ve made Greek statues cry at the injustice of the perfect marble. Lips full and infuriatingly kissable. You physically clenched your jaw at the sight, curing the heat that rose in your cheeks. 

This was bad. You were in trouble. Not because he was dangerous, you already knew that. But because your body was betraying you. Heart racing. Mouth dry. Thoughts swirling in very unprofessional directions. 

You thought of Tara, and her endless teasing. “Tell me if he’s hot.” she’d said. She had no idea. 

You’d tell her the truth later. Maybe. Or maybe you’d lie. Maybe you’d say he looked normal. Plain. Not like someone who made you forget how to breathe for a full sixty seconds. 

You forced yourself to focus. You had a job to do. There was no time to be mentally writing fanfiction about your target. 

But then… 

He smiled at someone. A soft, beautiful thing that made something in your chest twist, hard. 

Shit.

Now you’d found him, you kept your surveillance as tight. As tight as you could manage. 

It started small. Quick glimpses as he moved through the N109 zone. You tracked his movements, noted down his patterns and filed away every minute detail into reports. That was the plan. That was the job. 

But he kept…surprising you. 

One morning, early, you saw him pull up in a sleek, matte black car. Expensive. Exactly the kind of car you’d expect a power-hungry kingpin to flaunt. You figured he was off to conduct shady dealings. Intimidation, a shakedown, smacking an orphan or two. Standard Sylus behaviour. 

Except, he opened the trunk and it was full of…tuna. Dozens of tins, stacked neatly like a pantry haul. You blinked. Then just stared, dumbfounded as he carried them into a narrow alleyway and crouched before a rusted pipe. A swarm of stray cats sat, waiting for him like worshippers at an altar. 

And he fed them. All of them. 

There was no rush to his moments, it clearly wasn’t a chore. His precision betrayed the ritual of it. And it tugged at something deep in you. 

One of the cats, a scruffy tabby with half an ear, nuzzled his boot and he reached down, petting it oh so gently. 

You heart fluttered and you hated it.

Get a grip. None of this erased the man’s body count, but it did make you forget it momentarily. 

Still, the way he knelt, getting his trousers dirty without a second thought. The way his fingers curled and caressed the soft ear of the little animal… it didn’t match the man in the reports.

It didn’t line up. It clashed hard  with every story you’d heard. The blood. The warnings from Captain Jenna, Xavier, everyone. 

And it was messing with you. 

A few days later, you saw him outside a rundown school on the edge of the zone. The building was a husk of its former glory. Cracked windows, crumbling paint, the playground rusting into the dirt. Still, resilient as ever, kids ran circles around each other, laughing, playing, like they didn’t know the world wanted to chew them up and spit them back out again as hollow shells. 

Sylus approached the headmaster and handed over a thick envelope. It was a quiet exchange. The headmaster’s eyes misted as he opened it. Sylus just nodded and walked away. 

You wrote it down anyway. Not for the Hunter’s Association. For you, because your brain wouldn’t let it go.

Why would he do that?

What was the angle?

The lines blurred a little more every day. You watched him meet with an array of men and women. Suits, shadows, finery, tattoos. Every kind of person. There was no shouting. No threats. Just…smiles. Handshakes. Laughter, sometimes. He talked with people like a leader, not a tyrant. 

You knew what he could do. But watching this version of him, soft, almost kind, it rattled something loose.

You tried following him on foot once, just to see where he went after these meetings. But his stride was relentless. Long legs. Unbothered pace. You couldn’t keep up without making it obvious, and you hated how much you appreciated the sight of him. 

Eventually you gave up and fell back on your surveillance equipment instead. Cameras, drones, audio links. Cold tools that didn’t care how attractive he looked in low light. 

The problem wormed its way into your mind, taking root there and niggling just enough to have you thinking. 

Who the hell was Sylus Qin really?

The question followed you home. Haunted you into the morning. Even as you prepped your gear and checked your optics.

Your professional mask slipped, just a touch. The feeling of being lost, chasing your own and his tail, gnawed at you. 

A few days later though, for once, you were ahead of him. 

You’d overheard it in passing. Just a sliver of conversation between two dealers in a grimy back alley cafe. Names dropped too casually. A location. A time. You hadn’t expected it to mean anything, but instinct told you to follow it up. 

And once you were situated in the steel rafters of a warehouse, it was clear that your hunch had been right. 

For once, you weren’t chasing him. 

He didn't even know you were there. 

The space below you was empty save for the people that Sylus would be meeting. The air was still, speckled with dust that shone in strips, lit by old industrial lighting that buzzed irritatingly overhead. Exposed brick walls stretched upwards, rusted metal beams crisscrossing like the ribs of something long-dead.

It was quiet, but not calm. There was a tension that stretched, taut. Raising the hair on the back of your neck, twisting low in your tummy. Like something was waiting to snap. 

You adjusted your position quietly, setting up the mic, eyes scanning. 

He wasn’t here… yet. 

You pulled out your data pad, creating an entry for the meeting. 

8:45 pm 51.49217141714811, -0.19296825975441936 Matthew Halbard - 43 Y/O (see file attached) Details: MH and associates present. High-grade weapon components and altered protocores visible.

Matthew Halbard was a weapons dealer in the N109 zone. The Association already had a file on him, one that was rather comprehensive. 

He was a mid-level player, with a top floor ego, dressed like money but stinking of desperation. He’d clawed his way into the outer edges of power in the N109 zone by making all the right friends and screwing over all the right enemies. Until he started believing his own hype. Extortion, tech trafficking, suspected murders. None of it unusual for the line of work he did. 

You folded away the data pad and stored it as you heard a set of footsteps that you recognised. 

And there he was. 

No fanfare. No armed guards. No announcement. Just Sylus, walking in like he owned every inch of ground his boots touched. And he probably did. 

He was flanked by two men in crow masks who left after a discreet nod from Sylus himself. He dismissed them.

The light hit him differently here. Harsher. His blazer still hung off his shoulders with that effortless sort of confidence, but the softness you’d seen in daylight hours was gone. Here, under this fractured lighting, he looked sharper. More angular. And somehow older than his 28 years. 

Halbard waited for him, surrounded by armed men and a few low-rank enforces, all posturing and arrogance. 

None of them spoke at first. They both just stood there, seemingly sizing each other up. 

You trained your scope on Sylus. 

He was calm but alert. His stance was loose in the shoulders, shifting his weight from heel to heel. Each movement precise. Minimal. Tense beneath the surface, like bowstring being pulled back just right.

Eventually, they exchanged pleasantries. Discussed the trade. 

Halbard must have taken Sylus’ stillness for acceptance or compliance.

He started posturing. Gesturing too wide, talking too loud, spinning some bullshit about pricing, loyalty, supply chains. You couldn’t catch every word but the smugness carried just fine. 

You waited, watching for any sign of tension from Sylus. And then, something shifted. 

You weren’t sure when, but suddenly, you could feel it. The moment things turned. The way the tension in the room thickened, the way Sylus’ posture changed by a millimeter. 

You leaned in close, heart picking up speed. 

They must have felt it. Sylus’ instincts had to have been sharpened over the years right? He had to know that something wasn’t right. That Halbard had something other than trades and deals on his mind. 

The smallest twitch. A hand going for a concealed weapon. 

One of Halbard’s men. 

Stupid.

Sylus exhaled. 

The man who reached for his weapon froze mid-motion. Strands of red and black wrapping around his limbs and jerking him unnaturally. His limbs seized. His breath came out shaky and tight, like he was being grabbed by the throat and spine all at once. His feet lifted off the ground, body hovering for half a heartbeat.

And then he crumpled. 

Literally.

His body folded in on itself with a sickening crunch, bones snapping like twigs as his chest caved under the pressure of the energy. 

Sylus’ evol. 

It wasn’t showy or explosive. 

Just precise, silent. Inescapable. 

The others reached for their own weapons with barely enough time to process what they'd seen before Sylus moved. 

He was armed, of course. But he didn’t draw.

He grinned, something sinister and sardonic that had fear stabbing through your body. 

He dismantled their attack with brutal efficiency, each movement deliberate and lethal. A force of nature with his fists and evol working together. His knuckles glowed with the same red light that crushed Halbard’s man. Each hit resonated in the space, a thunderclap echoing through the metal beams above. 

His Evol sliced through the air with deadly accuracy. 

Every strike was purposeful. No movement wasted. Sylus tortured them, calmly, decisively, acting as both judge and executioner in a single breath.  The executions were brutal. Calculated. Each one more grotesque than the last. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Every death was horrific, yet undeniably earned. They’d  underestimated him. And maybe… so had you.

This wasn’t a fight. It was a culling. 

Halbard made a break for it. Coward. He bolted toward the loading bay doors, already yelling something about betrayal. 

Sylus turned.

Raised his hand. 

And Halbard stopped.

Just stopped mid-stride, frozen in place. 

Sylus closed his fist, the red tendrils tightening around Halbard’s body. Reminiscent of how snakes constrict around their prey. 

Halbard gasped, hands flying to his throat as his feet left the floor. His body dangled a few feet off the ground. Shaking. Twitching. Held in place by those ominous red and black strands.

Sylus walked slowly towards him. His evol flickering and pulsing, thrumming with energy. Steady and controlled. 

He stopped just short of Halbard’s feet and spoke in a soft hush. You couldn’t hear the words but their effect was clear. Halbard sobbed. Something deep and guttural tearing from his between his lips. A plea maybe.

Sylus tiltedhis head and without so much as a flicker of emotion, he lowered his hand. 

Halbard dropped like dead weight. Alive, but broken. 

Dust curled around Sylus’ boots as he stood over him. And then, he smiled. 

The same smile you’d seen when he fed the cats in the alley. Warm. private. Unsettling. 

He looked up.

Your blood ran cold as his gaze swept the ceiling. Not frantic. Not searching. Just… checking.

You stilled completely. Didn’t so much as breathe. Your mic off, hidden in the shadows. Thankfully, you were completely hidden.

He couldn't see you. 

It was the perfect time to make your escape. 

And that you did. As soon as the coast was clear you were gone. The adrenaline thundering in your chest urging you to go fast. Faster. 

Sylus’ lips curled upward in a smirk as he snapped his fingers. 

“Mephisto.”

The dark bird on a distant beam tilted its head towards its master. The lenses in its eyes shifting with a mechanical whirr, like it was listening. 

 “Keep an eye on that one,” he murmured, an amused smirk curling his lips. “Let’s see what she does next.”

 In your apartment, everything felt… off.

You showered. Changed. Poured yourself something strong and tried to ignore the slight shake of your fingers that made the bottle rattle against your glass. You told yourself that the tightness in your chest was just adrenaline wearing off. 

But the images wouldn’t stop replaying over and over again in your head. 

You paced. Got up again. Watched the footage from the warehouse, then turned it off five seconds in. 

The crunch of bones..

The way his evol moved like an extension of his will. Of him. 

And his face. 

His beautiful, un bothered face. Focused and so serene. 

You leaned your forehead against the windowpane, the glass cool against your skin. The lights from Linkon twinkled lazily outside. The trees swayed in the summer winds. Cars on the road. Normal things. 

But you didn’t feel normal.

You felt on edge. Like his eyes had followed you home, like you were an exhibition.

How could it be that this vicious predator was the same Sylus that you saw feeding stray cats and donating to schools? The same man that you had begun to almost romanticise as a misunderstood, misrepresented, soft-hearted man.

You shook the thought off. You were jumpy, understandably so. He hadn’t seen you. You were careful. You’d been careful. Everything was clean, untraceable. You’d covered your tracks.

You knew you had. 

You turned away from the window, reaching for your drink to clear your head. Two piercing eyes stared back at you from the balcony’s edge, making you almost scramble backwards in fear. 

It was a bird. 

Large. Unnervingly still. Feathers black as oil slick, eyes sharp and glassy. It didn’t twitch. Didn’t caw. It just… stared at you. 

You took a step to either side, growing more unnerved as its gaze followed you. Too smoothly. Too deliberate. 

You squinted at the thing. “What a strange…bird,” you murmured. 

It cocked its head, as if acknowledging the comment. And, as if realising that you were uncomfortable, the bird gave a soft, mechanical click. Its wings stretched once. Then it launched into the night and vanished.

Gone.

You stood there for a long moment, pulse thrumming, hand clutching at your chest. 

Sylus leaned back in his chair, the soft glow of a dozen surveillance feeds reflecting in his eyes. The bird cawed and flew to land on its perch in the corner of the room.  “Mephisto,” he chuckled, a spark of amusement lighting his carmine eyes as he leaned back in his chair, focussing entirely on the footage of you in your apartment. 

The bird let out a soft caw, feathers ruffling in something that almost looked smug.

Sylus chuckled under his breath, reaching for the glass of whiskey on the table beside him.

“That’s her, then,” he murmured. “Curious little kitten.”

He brought the drink to his lips, eyes fixed on the screen as you reappeared. Nervous and unsettled, pacing like someone being hunted.

“Maybe you ought to be a little more subtle next time,” he drawled lazily to the bird. “We don’t want her to know we're onto her.” 

Mephisto cawed in response. Its orders received. 

“Let her think she’s winning,” Sylus said softly, mostly to himself. “Let her think she’s safe.”

He smiled.

“That’s when hunters are the most interesting.”

I hope you enjoyed chapter 1! Please let me know what you think ♥️ reach out. Let’s talk! 🌹 I've finally re-written this chapter! It was a labour of love but I'm so hapy with how it's turned out! Let me know what you think pleeeeaaasseeee!

[simaddix]

Opening TS3 Medieval Market

Hello, my lovelies! Today I would like to talk about an opportunity for our beloved medieval (and historic) TS3 community!

Interested? Well, I guess let’s get into it and see how far it goes.

Why Discord, rather than a Tumblr Community or a personal page?

That’s a great question – and one that might be better explored as time goes on. However, here are a few perks that I’ve noticed.

1: A discord server as a download market presents an ideal solution by combining accessibility, organization, and engagement.

2: Organization – less scattered forums/websites. Discord allows structured categories and channels to keep content well-organized. We have the option to create additional channels or categories to keep content separated – so there’s less confusion when people stop using a tag, or add a new one that other’s aren’t tracking. There are also transferable roles assigned by moderators, so if someone wants to leave – there is no data lost, and the server stays active as usual.

3: Direct downloads – requiring no additional host/server. If you’re a part of the creator discord pages, then you’ll notice there is a hoard of available downloads that bypass the need to go to an alternate download site. Creators can upload their content directly into the appropriate category.

4: Discord servers have little to no spam bots (that I’ve noticed, anyway), and if there are issues, it’s relatively easy to remove those pests and keep the community protected.

5: By centralizing downloads in a dedicated server, creators can upload their content, receive immediate feedback, and build faster relationships with their community, and followers can immediately engage, comment, or download. Discord mimics Tumblr in that it allows for real-time interactions, sneak peeks, polls, events and more.

Here's what I've established so far inside the server:

A welcome channel established for people to drop into the server, and members to say hello!

More channels to host discussions, show off real life/other games/hobbies/etc. And of course, everything TS3 - because we like seeing people play!

All the "Market" tabs you could want! (And if it's not there, we'll add it to the list - free of charge lol)

The "Cargo" section mimics the creator discords a bit in that it allows you to ask WCIFs, make CC requests, trade and barter another member/creator for CC (I.E - swap CAS for BUILD/BUY items, etc), start collab projects, and more.

I highly recommend also keeping up to date with the other creator discords, there's already so much activity there!

_____________________________________________________________

Is the market meant to replace Tumblr pages, other creator discords, or personal pages?

Absolutely not! As we all know, there are many Tumblr pages/websites/servers dedicated to the TS3 community at large. Ts3 has thrived for so long partly because it has such a dedicated modding community, and hosts player-made content. However, distributing and protecting all of the content effectively while also fostering a sense of community is challenging. There has been a massive amount of effort put into the community through wonderful pages such as @katsujiiccfinds and @pis3update, (as well as all the other CC pages out there), I am personally a member of two creator discords that have been essential to me as I’ve learned to create, and now tumblr is exploring the new community options. However, the fallback of this is that hosts get burnt out, stop creating themselves, or abandon pages/websites all the time. There are many of these “ghosts” haunting Tumblr as we speak – though we all love a good comeback story, so to those who have returned, or will return, we all welcome you back with wide open arms! Right? Right! Huzzah! The point is, this discord is not meant to replace any of these options, but it might help us find a centralized location.

Modern/electrical CC will be booed – but possibly tolerated lol

This Discord is being opened as of right now – so don’t be surprised if you pop in and there’s no CC yet. These things take time – Rome wasn’t built in a day.

You will need a Discord account to follow the invite!

Paid only content will not be allowed on this discord. If you would like to upload paid content - you can always start free servers on Discord! When your content is free - absolutely feel free to add it to the market!

See you there! (Please let me know if there are any link issues!)

Personal Letter of Invitation: https://discord.gg/e6skNu9t

[codemerything]

A structured way to learn JavaScript.

I came across a post on Twitter that I thought would be helpful to share with those who are struggling to find a structured way to learn Javascript on their own. Personally, I wish I had access to this information when I first started learning in January. However, I am grateful for my learning journey so far, as I have covered most topics, albeit in a less structured manner.

N/B: Not everyone learns in the same way; it's important to find what works for you. This is a guide, not a rulebook.

EASY

What is JavaScript and its role in web development?

Brief history and evolution of JavaScript.

Basic syntax and structure of JavaScript code.

Understanding variables, constants, and their declaration.

Data types: numbers, strings, boolean, and null/undefined.

Arithmetic, assignment, comparison, and logical operators.

Combining operators to create expressions.

Conditional statements (if, else if, else) for decision making.

Loops (for, while) for repetitive tasks. - Switch statements for multiple conditional cases.

MEDIUM

Defining functions, including parameters and return values.

Function scope, closures, and their practical applications.

Creating and manipulating arrays.

Working with objects, properties, and methods.

Iterating through arrays and objects.Understanding the Document Object Model (DOM).

Selecting and modifying HTML elements with JavaScript.Handling events (click, submit, etc.) with event listeners.

Using try-catch blocks to handle exceptions.

Common error types and debugging techniques.

HARD

Callback functions and their limitations.

Dealing with asynchronous operations, such as AJAX requests.

Promises for handling asynchronous operations.

Async/await for cleaner asynchronous code.

Arrow functions for concise function syntax.

Template literals for flexible string interpolation.

Destructuring for unpacking values from arrays and objects.

Spread/rest operators.

Design Patterns.

Writing unit tests with testing frameworks.

Code optimization techniques.

That's it I guess!

[academicfever]

This is a good starting point but its not exhaustive by any means...

#Research 101: Part 1

##    How to find a good research topic?

It’s best to familiarize yourself with a discipline or topic as broadly as possible by looking beyond academia

Tips:

Be enthusiastic, but not unrealistic. For example, you might be tempted to throw yourself into finding out to what extent an entire economy has become circular, but it may already be challenging and tricky enough to find out which building materials are being recycled in the construction sector, and in what ways.

Be open-minded but beware of cul-de-sacs. You should always find out first whether enough is known about a topic already, or you might find yourself wasting a lot of time on it.

Be creative but stay close to the assignment. This starts with the topic itself; if one learning objective of the assignment is to carry out a survey, it isn’t helpful to choose a topic for which you need to find respondents on the other side of the world. One place where you can look for inspiration is current events. 

Although professors and lecturers tend to be extremely busy, they are often enthusiastic about motivated and smart students who are interested in their research field. You do need to approach them with focused questions, though, and not just general talk such as: ‘Do you know of a good topic for me?’ In many cases, a good starting point is the scholar themselves. Do a search on them in a search engine, take a look at their university web page, read recent publications,

In most university towns, you’ll come across organizations that hold regular lectures, debates, and thematic evenings, often in partnership with or organized by university lecturers and professors. If you’re interested in transdisciplinary research where academic knowledge and practical knowledge come together, this is certainly a useful place to start your search.

If you want to do interdisciplinary research, it is essential to understand and work with concepts and theories from different research fields, so that you are able to draw links between them (see Menken and Keestra (2016) on why theory is important for this). With an eye to your ‘interdisciplinary’ academic training, it is therefore a good idea to start your first steps in research with concepts and theories.

##How to do Lit Review:

Although texts in different academic disciplines can differ significantly in terms of structure, form, and length, almost all academic articles (research articles and literature reports) share a number of characteristics:

They are published in scholarly journals with expert editorial boards

These journals are peer-reviewed

These articles are written by authors who have no direct commercial or political interest in the topic on which they are writing

There are also non-academic research reports such as UN reports, data from statistics institutes, and government reports. Although these are not, strictly speaking, peer-reviewed, the reliability of these sources means that their contents can be assumed to be valid

You can usually include grey literature in your research bibliography, but if you’re not sure, you can ask your lecturer or supervisor whether the source you’ve found meets the requirements.

Google and Wikipedia are unreliable: the former due to its commercial interests, the latter because anyone, in principle, can adjust the information and few checks are made on the content.

disciplinary and interdisciplinary search machines with extensive search functions for specialized databases, such as the Web of Science, Pubmed, Science Direct, and Scopus

Search methods All of these search engines allow you to search for scholarly sources in different ways. You can search by topic, author, year of publication, and journal name. Some tips for searching for literature: 1. Use a combination of search terms that accurately describes your topic. 2. You should use mainly English search terms, given that English is the main language of communication in academia. 3. Try multiple search terms to unearth the sources you need. a. Ensure that you know a number of synonyms for your main topic b. Use the search engine’s thesaurus function (if available) to map out related concepts.

During your search, it is advisable to keep track of the keywords and search combinations you use. This will allow you to check for blind spots in your search strategy, and you can get feedback on improving the search combinations. Some search engines automatically keep a record of this.

Exploratory reading How do you make a selection from the enormous number of articles that are often available on a topic? Keep the following four questions in mind, and use them to guide your literature review: ■■ What is already known about my topic and in which discipline is the topic discussed? ■■ Which theories and concepts are used and discussed within the scope of my topic, and how are they defined? ■■ How is my topic researched and what different research methods are there? ■■ Which questions remain unanswered and what has yet to be researched?

$$ Speed reading:

Run through the titles, abstracts, and keywords of the articles at the top of your list and work out which ideas (concepts) keep coming back.

Next, use the abstract to figure out what these concepts mean, and also try to see whether they are connected and whether this differs for each study.

If you are unable to work out what the concepts mean, based on the context, don’t hesitate to use dictionaries or search engines.

Make a list of the concepts that occur most frequently in these texts and try to draw links between them.

A good way to do this is to use a concept map, which sets out the links between the concepts in a visual way.

All being well, by now you will have found a list of articles and used them to identify several concepts and theories. From these, try to select the theories and concepts that you want to explore further. Selecting at this stage will help you to frame and focus your research. The next step is to discover to what extent these articles deal with these concepts and theories in similar or different ways, and how combining these concepts and theories leads to different outcomes. In order to do this, you will need to read more thoroughly and make a detailed record of what you’ve learned.

next: part 2

part 3

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last part

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

Hunter's Association: Departments, Sectors, and Sub-groups

Details:

The Hunter's Association is divided into multiple departments, sectors, and sub-groups. All such entities that have been mentioned in-game (thus far) are listed below.

Sectors:

UNICORNS:

The best combat unit under the Hunter's Association. Known for their unmatched power and fast responses, they specialize in tackling extremely dangerous Wanderer incidents that regular hunters can't handle. Their elite sector is small and notoriously unconventional.

DAWN

Departments:

Advanced Tech Labs

Archives

Armory:

The Armory is where a Deepspace Hunter's weapons are stored, serviced, and maintained. Following a mission, the returning hunter relinquishes their equipment to the Armory so that this service can take place.

Data Analysis:

Data Analysis (also referred to as "Data Analytics") serves as the intelligence processing center for individual teams while providing support to other sectors. Their responsibilities include gathering and analyzing data, detecting and identifying Protocores, and monitoring regional energy fluctuations.

Data Center

Hunter's Association Support Center

Intel Department

Linkon Hunter Dispatch Center:

This department responds to urgent Wanderer reports across Linkon City by dispatching hunters, deploying medical teams, raising hazard alarms, and monitoring real-time positioning. Their work area features a holographic control console in the center of the room that displays a 3D map of Linkon City. Blinking red dots represent high-level threats, blue dots represent hunters in the area, and yellow dots represent Wanderers. At the conclusion of each case they resolve, an incident repoer is submitted. This department's positions include multiple dispatchers, a surveillance officer, and a Captain (currently Captain Colin). They have a break room and their own cafeteria, a feature Alpha Team lacks.

Case Numbers: Case numbers follow the incremental naming standard "LK204×01101", "LK204×01102", "LK204×01103", etc.

Emergency Response Protocol: A high-level procedure triggered for threats only equivalent to five or more Wanderers. It requires the coordinated effort of at least five hunters.

Logistics Department

Medical Support Department:

The Medical Support Department, in partnership with the Logistics Department and Operations HQ, recently implemented an updated "Hunter Health Policy" which introduced three new regulations:

Monthly period leave for female hunters increased from 2 to 4 days per calendar month.

A "period subsidy" that will be added to their pay structure

The Medical Support Department and Akso Hospital will offer specialized health consultations and support for menstruation-related diet, exercise, sleep, and mental well-being, helping them maintain a balanced lifestyle during their period.

Operations HQ

Protocore Research Department

Security Department

Sub-groups:

Armament Tech:

Armament Tech is a specialized team dedicated to the development, optimization, and maintenance of Deepspace Hunter combat equipment. The Hunter's Association assigns an Armament Tech team to each squad. This team provides state-of-the-art technological support to hunters and enhances the combat capabilities and efficiency of the entire squad.

[helpmyassignment028]

How 5 Things Will Change The Way You Approach Data Structure Assignment

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[lepartidelamort]

The Leuchter Report that Ended the Holocaust Myth

Robert Faurisson

In January 1988, I came to Toronto, Canada, to appear in court in defense of Ernst Zündel, a German-Canadian accused of spreading "inaccurate information." The thing is that Ernst Zündel published the book "Did Six Million Really Die", which refutes the dogma that during the 2nd World War the Nazis killed six million Jews, and with the help of poison gas "Cyclone B" .

In 1985, Mr. Zündel was already brought to justice under the same article. The trial lasted seven weeks, during which Ernst Zündel was found guilty and sentenced to 15 months in prison. In January 1987, the Ontario Court of Appeal invalidated this conviction due to numerous breaches of due process and ordered a new trial, which began on January 18, 1988. Court hearings are not over to this day, when I write these lines.

My first conversation with Fred A. Leuchter took place on February 3 and 4 in Boston. I was very impressed with the accuracy of his answers to my questions and his ability to thoroughly explain every step, every detail of the gassing. He confirmed the great danger to the performer of this execution procedure by means of Zyklon B.

This gas was first used for execution in the United States in 1924. But until 1988, a number of problems associated with the design of gas chambers were not solved, especially the problem of tightness. In the course of this conversation, I came to the conclusion that Mr. Leichter does not question the generally accepted view of the Holocaust.

After I returned from Boston to Toronto and told Ernst Zündel about my conversation with Fred Leuchter, Mr. Zündel decided to get an expert opinion and ask Mr. Leuchter to draw up a report on the so-called gas chambers in Auschwitz, Birkenau, Majdanek. After Mr. Leichter got acquainted with the data of aerial photographs of the camps during the war, with plans for crematoria and so-called gas chambers, documents about Zyklon B, and photographs of the remains of the camps made in 1970 by the Swedish researcher Dietlieb Felderer, he accepted this assignment.

On February 25, 1988, Fred Leuchter, accompanied by his wife Caroline, draftsman Howard Miller, photographer Jürgen Neumann and Polish translator Theodor Rudolph, set off. They returned eight days later, on the third of March.

Immediately upon his return, Fred Leuchter wrote this 192-page report (with notes, etc.). His conclusions were clear. It has been proven that gas chambers did not exist at Auschwitz, Birkenau, and Majdanek, and those structures that are presented as such could not be.

On April 20 and 21, Fred Leuchter came as a witness to the Toronto City Court. There he answered questions posed first by Zündel's lawyer Douglas Christie, whose assistants were Kelti Zubko and Barbara Kulachka, and then by the authorities' prosecutor John Pearson. The prosecution included numerous Jewish consultants. During the trial, Fred Leuchter was also cross-examined.

Questions were asked in the presence of the judge, as well as twelve jurors. There was an atmosphere of unusual tension in the courtroom. I sat next to several Holocaust revisionist experts, among them Dr. William Lindsey, DuPont's chief research chemist until he retired in 1958. I think that it was clear to everyone present in the courtroom, regardless of their attitude towards the accused, that they were taking part in a historic event. The myth of the gas chambers is dead!

The day before, Missouri State Warden Bill Armontroth made a statement and explained the process and practical use of cyanide* gas chambers. After that, it became clear to every attentive listener that if it was difficult to kill a single person in this way, then what can we say about the alleged mass executions by the Germans of hundreds of thousands of people with these gases, and even in such a small space.

Fred Leuchter's testimony was corroborated by Dr. James Roth of Cornell University, manager of Alpha Analytical Laboratories / Massachusetts /. Dr. Roth gave information about the analysis of samples taken from the walls, floors, ceilings and other fragments of the premises presented as gas chambers in Auschwitz 1 and Birkenau. These samples showed either the complete absence of cyanide, or its negligible content. The only exception was control sample no. 32 taken from the Birkenau camp's pest control room. These data were given in appendix No. 1 of the Leichter report - they were provided to the jury by the main defender. The differences in the concentration of cyanide found in the pest control room on the one hand and in the alleged gas chambers on the other were staggering. I think,

I think that I happened to be the first person to point out the fact that all research in the so-called extermination gas chambers, in which Zyklon B was allegedly used, must begin with the study of American gas chambers. I began my research in this area already in 1977 with the help of my American friend Yudin S. Brugger, a lawyer based in New York. In doing this work, I received information about six American prisons: San Quentin in California, Santa Fe in New Mexico, Jefferson City in Missouri, Rayleigh in North Carolina, Baltimore in Maryland, and Florence in Arizona. By that time, I had come to the conclusion that only an expert on American gas chamber construction technology was able to give a definitive opinion on whether those gas chambers described in "

Over the following years, my articles on German gas chambers were based on material on American gas chambers. Among these articles were: "The Auschwitz trial or the problem of the gas chambers" /Published December 29, 1978 in the French daily Le Monde/, a long interview published in August 1979 in the Italian magazine "Storia illustrata". In September 1979, I inspected the gas chambers at the Baltimore State Penitentiary in Maryland, and was able to obtain eight photographs, as well as additional material based on documents. After that, at a meeting chaired by Fritz Berg (this meeting was held in New York), I explained the method and process of executions in the gas chambers in the Baltimore prison using visual material, after which there was a long discussion about this. In 1980, in the first issue of the new journal "Journal for Historical Review", my article was published under the title "Mechanism of asphyxiation by gas", in which I described in sufficient detail the structure and methods of using American gas chambers. In the same year, in the journal Historical Truth or Political Truth? /"Do you believe the historian or do you believe the politician?"/ Eight photographs of the gas chambers in Baltimore. My video, released in 1982, begins with an analysis of the American gas chambers.

In 1983, I prepared a book in English for the Institute of Historical Revisionism in Los Angeles on the subject of a Holocaust controversy. For the first time, it contained questions on prisons and answers to them. However, this book was never published - on July 4, 1984, on Independence Day, as a result of arson, the institute's archives were destroyed. In fact, this fire put an end to the viability of the institute, and a large number of projects, including my book, were never realized.

It may seem that the Holocaust is something of enormous proportions, but this "colossus", as Arthur Butz calls it in his book "The Deception of the Twentieth Century", has feet of clay. In order to see this shaky foundation, you only need to go to the former Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland. Thus, as Dr. Wilhelm Steglich said, the thesis that Auschwitz was a "Corpse Factory" will lose all meaning. I believe that all the secrets of Auschwitz are concentrated on 65 square meters of space in places that pass off as gas chambers in Auschwitz 1, and on 210 square meters of the same premises in Birkenau. Immediately after the end of the war, the Allies were to subject these 275 square meters to a thorough analysis. But neither then, nor until today, such an analysis was carried out. The Polish expert Jan Zen ordered a rather large-scale study at Auschwitz, but it did not include the study of the so-called gas chambers.

Subsequent research by the revisionists showed that the premises masquerading as gas chambers could not have been used for such purposes. Dietlieb Felderer published photographs showing the poor design of the exhaust ventilation and doors of the "gas chambers", as well as the specific coloring of the walls: iron blue**. I myself discovered in 1975 in the archives of the State Museum of Auschwitz / archives carefully guarded by communist officials / the plans for the "gas chambers" and was the first to publish them in various books and articles.

These plans were shown at the 1st Symposium of the Institute of Historical Revisionism , held in 1979 in Los Angeles. This symposium was attended by Mr. Zündel . In fact, the "gas chambers" were simply morgues, or rather, as can be seen on the diagrams, a mortuary for crematorium 1, which was later turned into a bomb shelter, and a mortuary for crematorium 2.

And yet, in order to absolutely scientifically confirm everything that a healthy human mind suggested to us and that revisionist studies and documents revealed, it was also necessary to find an American specialist in gas chambers. I put a lot of effort into finding such a person, but to be honest, I had little hope of finding a person who was not only an expert in the technology of using and building gas chambers, but also had the courage to conduct such research in a communist country. and publish the results - in the event that they coincided with the results of the study of revisionist scientists. Fortunately, I was wrong in my predictions.

Robert Faurisson (left) and Fred Leuchter

Such a specialist was found, and it turned out to be Fred Leuchter. He went to Poland, did all the necessary research, wrote his report and testified in favor of Mr. Zündel in a Canadian court; in doing so, he quietly made history.

Fred Leuchter is a slightly shy but determined person, he always speaks very clearly, without spreading his thoughts along the tree. He would be an excellent professor, he has a real talent for explaining any complex and incomprehensible problem or phenomenon intelligibly. When I asked him if he was afraid of possible dangerous consequences, he explained his position simply: "A fact is a fact."

After Leuchter's report was read by renowned historian David Irving, he called the document during his testimony at his trial in Toronto on April 22, 1988, "destroying" and also the base for any historian who wishes to write scholarly work on World War II. .

Without Ernst Zündel, all that is now known would not exist. He sacrifices everything in his quest for historical accuracy. He lives in difficult conditions, confronting powerful enemies. He is constantly under pressure, sometimes taking unexpected disgusting forms. But he is a strong charismatic personality. He knows how to analyze any situation and evaluate the forces needed to turn disadvantages into advantages. People from all over the world come to him, he mobilizes people with high moral qualities. He is a real thinker, and he has a special gift for combining a healthy human mind with the ability to understand people and situations. It is possible that for his further research and convictions he will again have to end up in prison or be expelled. Everything is possible, especially in the conditions of an intellectual crisis, when history in many respects must be returned to its full circle. Revisionism is a great intellectual event of the late 20th century, and there is something adventurous about it.

Whatever happens, Ernst Zündel is already a winner. He is a pacifist activist who achieved victory by the power of reason and persuasion!

Dr. Robert Faurisson,

Toronto, April 23, 1988.

Notes:

In Germany, France, England, Russia, Canada and other countries, people who express "politically incorrect views" are prosecuted. Partially with official prosecution, "hand in hand" goes hand in hand with private prosecution, which means that all those who do not accepts egalitarianism in any form, they destroy it in all conceivable and unthinkable ways.

Fred Leuchter, 45, lives in Boston, Massachusetts. He is a specialist in the development of materials for executions, which are used in prisons across America. One of the main orders for this scientist was the project of a new gas chamber for the prison in Jefferson City, Missouri.

Russian editorial comment

* Cyanides are derivatives of hydrocyanic (hydrocyanic acid) H-CN, of the general formula R-CN, where R=(metal ion, hydrocarbon or other residue). For organic cyanides, the scientific name is nitriles. Hydrocyanic acid and its salts, for example, KCN (potassium cyanide), have the strongest general poisonous effect. Cyanide-ion (-CN) firmly binds the main blood element iron (Fe), after which blood proteins are no longer able to bind oxygen (O2) and transport it to organs and tissues. Such an effect of hydrocyanic acid and its volatile derivatives is almost instantaneous and the huge risk of using them in large quantities in small areas is quite understandable.

** "Iron blue" is a complex salt with composition Fe4 [Fe(CN)6]. It has a bright blue color and can form on iron walls as a result of prolonged interaction with hydrocyanic acid HCN.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Motherhood pushes Brazilian women into informal labor market

Lack of workplace flexibility and social norms increase informality; extended daycare hours and longer paternity leave seen as potential solutions

Motherhood increases the likelihood that women will enter the informal labor market in Brazil. Rigid formal work structures and persistent social norms that assign women a disproportionate share of domestic responsibilities help explain this trend. Economists argue that expanded access to childcare with extended hours and longer paternity leave could help address the issue.

Data from the Continuous National Household Sample Survey (PNAD Contínua), compiled by Janaína Feijó of the Brazilian Institute of Economics at Fundação Getulio Vargas (FGV), show that mothers participate less in the labor market and are more likely to work informally than childless women or men, whether or not they are fathers. The situation is even more acute for women with young children.

Among mothers, the informal employment rate—which includes domestic and private-sector workers without formal contracts, self-employed women without a business registration, and unpaid family workers—was 37.6% in Q4 2015, 38.8% in Q4 2019, and 37% in Q4 2024.

For women without children, the rate moved from 32% to 35.6%, and then to 33%. Among fathers, informality rates were 36.7%, 37.8%, and 36%, respectively, while childless men registered 36.8%, 38.8%, and 36.9%. Informality was highest among mothers with children under five, at 37.3% in late 2024, compared to 36% for those with children aged 6 to 15.

Continue reading.

[bitsbug]

i have.. so many questions about / for your ocs (VERY POSITIVE) but i will utilize self-restraint and start with one. i am very curious if any of your iterator group has animal companions beyond the purposed organisms that more or less act as cells in their bodies- my best example is, of course, SRS and spearmaster but this could also extend to include like, scavenger pals? on the other hand do any of them have particular issues with the surrounding flora/fauna

FANTASTIC QUESTION! there are multiple!!!

Curtains hordes most of the animal/purposed companions of the group, since he personally designed them. He's got like, 3 different types of purposed organism he created from scratch (he thinks simply modifying creatures is stupid and inefficient) that inhabit his superstructure.

The main one is CC/Ceaseless Convection! They're the only one of their model, and definitely the most talkative of his creations. They're made to be a data courier, capable of traveling vast distances with vast amounts of information stored in their body's giant secondary brain, derived from the same gut-stuff in the Memory Crypt's boxes. They often need to take long trips away from home for their deliveries, but they're an optimist and enjoy the adventure.

MORE GUYS UNDER THE CUT THIS IS LOONG

There's also the Internal Engineers, which are made to maintain and help upgrade his inner components, as well as keep out intruders. They're made to be content with just doing their jobs & working constantly - listen ethics kinda died with the ancients - but each have their own personality. Also they talk exclusively in coding jargon. He has 3 right now.

Finally is his constructers, which predictibly also do construction and maintenance, but on his exterior this time. These ones are the most numerous, with 25 living on his structure. When they're not assigned anything they hang out in his abandoned city, which has been renovated to accomodate for them.

There's also Scribe but I might make a post dedicated to her -- the short version is that she's a wild animal that adventured into Curtains' chamber and demanded he teach her how to write. He complied for some reason and now she visits regularly for lessons.

condolences TBH

The only animal companion that isn't associated with Curtains is the Influence, who was created by Anxiety Practice. They were part of an experiment involving wheel flowers, being engineered to constantly produce the karma-affecting hallucinogenic compound inside them. Thing is, their body produces the compound in excess, causing it to leak out of their face orifices. It doesn't bother them too much, but does affect their senses.

As a result of the modification, they can't go down in karma, experience a time-slow effect like the one mushrooms cause, and are absurdly well attuned to the Cycle. They also do experience the uh.. psychadelic effects, but living with it their entire life has desensitized them. After AP finished data collection, xe didn't have any reason to toss Influence out, so they stick around as a lab assistant. They don't know how to survive in the wild, nor do they know any slugcat language.

thank you so much for giving me an excuse to infodump. good lird this post is long.

[chaotic-archaeologist]

Need some college advice, one of the classes I'm taking is Political science but it's synchronous me I do at home on my own. and I am STRUGGLING . I feel like I learned nothing and we're on week 5. it's not the subject but the way it's taught, thing is I KNEW this would happen I was home-schooled from 4th-12th and it was structured same way and I just couldn't get with it. But I figured that was then, this is now besides good to have a back up as a spoonie and my dad's (my main transportation) ailing health. However recent quiz I got 4/10. ...I just don't know, I have a meeting with advisor tomorrow but wonder should I just withdraw from this class and retake in person next semester? But I feel like a quitter

Listen, first and foremost: no academic endeavor is worth your mental and/or physical health. If this class is tying you up in knots, if you're not learning anything because of the way it's structured, and it could potentially mess up your GPA (provided that's something you care about it)... ditch the class. Also, you deserve to get the most out of your learning experience.

Sure, there's nuance. What percentage of your grade is made up of quizzes vs things like papers or assignments, which are sometimes harder to fail? Does the professor allow retakes? Extra credit? At week 5 things are probably still salvageable, even if you might not necessarily get an A.

But honestly? It sounds like you're not getting much out of this class, and that's the most important thing. If it helps, don't think of it as quitting, think of it as making an evidence-based decision. You did an experiment with this kind of learning in a new setting, you have some preliminary results, and based on that data you are going to alter future parameters.

There are some time constraints you want to think about. Most schools have an add/drop window where there's no penalty for leaving a class, but that usually ends around the second week. Past that point there's another window where you can formally withdraw from a class, but it will show as a W on your transcript. Sometimes, depending on the situation, you can still get your money back with a W.

Ws are not the end of the world; many people wind up taking them for many different reasons. Most post-college opportunities don't actually care about the details of your transcript, and those that do often give you the opportunity to explain things like this. You have a totally valid reason, which is that the course was not being taught in a way that was conducive to your learning needs.

(I personally have 4 Ws on my transcript because I had to drop out of school when my health was at its worst, and look—they let me into grad school anyway! Pretty much any other job I could go for will only care that I graduated college, and many won't even ask for a GPA.)

IMPORTANT CAVEAT: I am, ultimately, just a guy on the internet. Everything that I say should be taken with a grain of salt. I do not know you, your unique situation, or the nuances of the educational institution you attend. I also cannot make decisions for you. What I can do is provide context in the form of an opinion, but see the above remark about grains of salt.

-Reid