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oscinhaslandito · 6 months ago

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COFFEE AND CHEMISTRY

The First Encounter:

Y/N sighed as she entered the university library, clutching her laptop and a half-drunk iced coffee. She spotted Oscar Piastri, her senior and brother’s best friend, sitting at a corner table, engrossed in his code. Lando had texted her earlier: "Go find Osc, he's at the library. Tell him to eat or something."

She hesitated before approaching, feeling a bit awkward interrupting him. "Hey, Oscar. Lando sent me to... check on you?"

Oscar looked up, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Classic Lando. You’re his messenger now?"

"Apparently. Also, can I sit here? The Wi-Fi is awful everywhere else," she asked, already pulling out her chair, though her voice held a slight edge of hesitation.

"Go ahead," he said with a shrug, sliding his notes aside to make space.

She noticed the assortment of neatly arranged notes and the faint smell of coffee around him. Settling down, she opened her laptop and glanced at him, realizing this might not be as awkward as she thought. Over the next hour, they worked in parallel, occasionally exchanging a word or two, and by the time Y/N packed up, she was surprised at how comfortable she felt.

Study Sessions:

Their study sessions became a routine. Every other day, Y/N would find herself at the same table with Oscar, their laptops open and the occasional sound of typing filling the air. He would guide her through complex algorithms, his calm explanations cutting through her frustration.

"Wait, so if I just refactor this part of the code, it works?" she asked, her eyes wide with realization. She clicked a few keys, and the once-buggy program finally ran smoothly.

"Exactly," Oscar said, his tone patient. "It’s just cleaner and more efficient this way."

Y/N threw her hands up in mock surrender. "I owe you my GPA," she said dramatically, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

"You’re figuring it out yourself. I’m just nudging you in the right direction," he replied, but there was a hint of pride in his voice. "Wow, you're like my guardian mentor."

Oscar looked at her with a confused raise of brow. "Guardian mentor?"

She looked way too proud of her words, "Yeah, like a Guardian Angel who helps me study. That's a Guardian Mentor."

Over time, her confidence grew. She started solving problems faster, but still turned to him when she hit a wall. Those moments became less about solving the problem and more about the comfort of knowing someone had her back. Sometimes, they’d take short breaks, sharing stories about classes or laughing over ridiculous memes Y/N found. Each session felt less like a chore and more like a shared ritual.

The Comfortable Silences:

Not every session was filled with conversation. Sometimes, they’d sit in companionable silence, the only sounds being the tapping of keys and the occasional flip of a page. It was oddly comforting. Y/N found herself appreciating Oscar’s quiet focus and the subtle way he’d glance at her screen, checking on her progress without saying a word.

On one of those silent nights, she looked up and found him staring at the ceiling, his pen tapping lightly against his notebook. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, offering her a small smile. "Just wondering if I’ll survive my final project."

"If you don’t, who’s going to help me with mine?" she teased, earning a chuckle.

Occasionally, the silence was punctuated by shared snacks or the soft sound of Oscar humming absentmindedly. It was in these moments that Y/N realized how much she enjoyed his company, even without words.

The Breakthrough:

When Y/N finally completed a particularly tricky assignment, she nearly jumped out of her seat, earning a glare from the librarian.

"It works! Oscar, look!" she whispered excitedly, pointing at her screen.

He leaned over, his shoulder brushing hers as he checked her work. A proud smile spread across his face. "Told you you’d get it."

"Team effort," she said, grinning. "You’re like my coding guardian angel."

Lando, who had just arrived with snacks, raised his hands in mock celebration. "Hallelujah, the nerds have triumphed! Let’s commemorate this moment with pizza."

"Deal," Y/N said, laughing.

"You know," Lando added, "I feel like I deserve some credit for this too. I’m the one who made you two start studying together."

"Sure, Lando," Y/N said, rolling her eyes. "Your contribution was invaluable."

Oscar smirked. "The moral support was life-changing."

Lando grinned. "Exactly. Glad you both finally see it."

Later that night, as they walked back to their dorms, Y/N turned to Oscar. "Thanks for always helping me. I don’t think I would’ve gotten through this semester without you."

"Anytime," he replied softly, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer than usual.

The Late Nights:

Their study sessions often stretched into the late evenings. The library’s quiet hum became their soundtrack as they worked under the soft glow of desk lamps. On one particularly late night, Y/N’s head started to droop, her notes blurring before her eyes.

Oscar noticed, nudging her gently with his elbow. "You’re falling asleep," he said softly.

"Am not," she mumbled, her eyes half-closed.

"Come on," he said, packing up her things. "I’ll walk you back to your dorm."

"You’re too nice," she murmured, already half-asleep as they walked through the empty campus.

"Someone’s gotta look out for you," he replied, his voice low but warm. The quiet night air seemed to hold something unspoken between them.

The Little Gestures and Moments:

One evening, Y/N’s iced coffee was running low, and Oscar excused himself for a break. He returned with a fresh cup for her, setting it down without a word.

"Thought you’d need it," he said simply, his tone casual.

She blinked up at him, touched by the gesture. "Thanks, Osc."

Before she could say more, Lando sauntered over, smirking. "Well, aren’t you thoughtful?" he said, plopping into a seat.

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Don’t make it weird."

"Too late," Lando quipped, winking at Y/N.

The next day, Lando’s teasing escalated. "So, Osc, is this your secret way of wooing her? Coffee runs and all?"

"It’s called being polite," Oscar replied, though his ears turned slightly red.

Y/N groaned. "Lando, stop embarrassing him—and me!"

"Never," Lando said, grinning. "It’s my brotherly duty."

Later, as Oscar handed her a printout she needed, Lando chimed in, "Oh, a printout too? What’s next, love letters?"

Y/N threw a pen at him. "Out. Now."

Lando left, laughing, but not before saying, "I’m just saying—romance isn’t dead!"

Oscar started leaving small sticky notes with helpful tips or encouraging words on her desk when she wasn’t looking. One read, "You’ve got this! - OP." Y/N couldn’t help but smile, saving the notes in her notebook.

Between the teasing and late-night sessions, it was the small moments that stood out. The way Oscar would share his notes without hesitation, or how Y/N would save him a seat during crowded study hours. The way their hands would occasionally brush when reaching for a pen, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

It was in those fleeting touches and quiet smiles that an unspoken bond began to grow. Neither of them said anything, but both felt it. One evening, as Y/N leaned over to grab her bag, Oscar absentmindedly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She froze for a moment, their eyes meeting, before he quickly pulled back, his cheeks tinged with pink.

The Lando Fiasco:

Lando occasionally joined them, his presence like a whirlwind that disrupted their serene environment. He would sprawl out in a chair, his arms crossed behind his head and a bag of snacks on the table.

"You two look like an ad for academic excellence," he teased, tossing a gummy bear at Y/N. "Do you ever do normal things, or is it all code and coffee?"

"Yeah yeah, we get it we're nerdy. Blah blah blah," Y/N rolled her eyes, catching the gummy bear and popping it into her mouth.

He chuckled, looking amused, "But seriously, don’t let Oscar turn you into a full-blown nerd," Lando added, smirking at his best friend.

Oscar smirked back, his tone deadpan. "She’s already better at debugging than you ever were."

"Rude," Lando replied, pretending to be offended. "I was just giving her the opportunity to shine. You’re welcome, Y/N."

Another time, Lando leaned over to peer at Y/N’s screen. "What are you even doing? That looks like an alien language."

"It’s called programming, Lando," she replied dryly.

"Yeah, and it’s definitely not for humans," he quipped. "Osc, how do you even understand this stuff?"

Oscar shrugged. "It’s just practice. You could learn it if you tried."

Lando snorted. "I’ll stick to spreadsheets, thanks."

Sometimes, his interruptions turned into rambling monologues about business strategies or bizarre hypotheticals. One evening, he sprawled across the table dramatically. "If I get a friend to create an app for matchmaking nerds, would you two be my test subjects?"

Y/N groaned. "Lando, we’re trying to focus."

Oscar, without looking up, replied just so Lando wouldn't bug them further, "Only if you promise to never bring this up again."

Lando grinned. "Deal. But you’d owe me royalties if it works."

He also had a knack for sneaking pictures of them studying. "Just documenting the nerd life," he’d say, showing them a candid shot of Oscar leaning over to help Y/N with a problem. "For the memories."

"So, when are you two gonna start dating?" Lando asked one day, casually leaning against the table.

Y/N choked on her coffee, and Oscar’s ears turned red.

"What? We’re just studying," Y/N protested, her voice a mix of embarrassment and disbelief.

"Sure, and I love pescatarians," Lando said, grinning. "Seriously, Osc, you’re basically already part of the family. Just make it official."

Oscar cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. "You’re unbelievable."

"And you’re avoiding the question," Lando shot back, his teasing grin widening.

Later, when Y/N had stepped away to go to class, Lando leaned closer to Oscar. "Just so you know, if you hurt her, you’ll have to deal with me."

Oscar’s expression softened. "I’d never do that."

Lando nodded, his usual playful demeanor giving way to sincerity for a moment. "Good."

On another day, Lando orchestrated a "random" movie night, conveniently inviting just the two of them. "Oops, looks like I’m busy tonight," he said, feigning regret. "Guess it’s just you two."

Y/N glared at him. "You’re the least subtle person ever."

"You’re welcome," Lando said, unabashed.

His meddling didn’t stop there. He started dropping hints to their mutual friends, ensuring they’d all conveniently "notice" how close Oscar and Y/N were. "Don’t you think they’d make a cute couple?" he’d say, grinning mischievously.

Lando’s teasing, it was clear to everyone—especially Lando—that there was something special about their dynamic. Whether it was the way Oscar’s gaze softened when Y/N talked about her goals, or how Y/N instinctively turned to Oscar for reassurance, their connection spoke volumes.

"You’re good for each other," Lando said one evening, his tone unusually sincere.

Oscar glanced at Y/N, who was too busy typing to notice. "Yeah," he said quietly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I guess we are."

The Confession:

It wasn’t a grand confession, but rather a culmination of Lando’s relentless teasing and their own shared moments. One evening, as they packed up from another late study session, Oscar sighed, his gaze shifting from the desk to Y/N.

"Can I ask you something?" he began, his tone a little more serious than usual.

She looked up, her expression curious. "What’s up?"

"Do you... ever get tired of Lando pushing us together?"

Y/N laughed softly. "Constantly. He’s relentless."

Oscar hesitated, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "The thing is... he’s not entirely wrong. About us, I mean."

Her smile faltered, replaced by a look of surprise. "Oscar..."

"I just think," he continued, his voice steady but earnest, "that maybe we’re wasting time pretending he’s off-base. Because he’s not. At least, not for me. What about you?"

She stared at him for a moment, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then, a small, shy smile spread across her face. "He’s not wrong for me either."

Relief washed over Oscar’s face, and his lips curved into a genuine smile. "So, what do you say? Dinner? Just us?"

"Are you asking me out, Piastri?"

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri #formula 1 #lando norris #fluff #one shot #jjk fluff #oscar piastri x reader

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areyoufuckingcrazy · 29 days ago

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I had a crazy thought today: What if Echo wasn't the only part of the Algorithm? What if the Techno Union had another person (Reader) hooked up at a separate location? They would have both Echo and Reader work together to solve complex strategic problems. What kind of relationship would form between the two, and what would happen after Echo was rescued?

“A Ghost in the Circuit”

Echo x Reader

The first time you heard his voice, it was distorted—filtered through wires, machinery, and pain.

“Who are you?”

You blinked through the sluggish haze of chemical sedation. The light above you flickered, casting your enclosure in sickly green. For a moment, you thought it was another hallucination. The Techno Union’s experimental sedatives had a way of blending reality with memory.

But the voice came again, clearer this time.

“You’re… not one of them.”

“No,” you rasped, throat raw. “And you?”

He paused. Then, quietly, like a truth long buried:

“CT-1409. Echo.”

That name—Echo—stirred something in the recesses of your mind. A ghost of a clone you’d heard rumored to be dead. Lost on the Citadel. But if he was here… then you weren’t alone in this twisted hell.

They Called It the Algorithm.

The Techno Union had no use for your body—just your mind. Your military experience, your understanding of Jedi tactics, your intuition. You’d been captured during a failed mission on Raxus, and while you expected torture or death, you hadn’t expected this: to be strung up like some living datastream, brain siphoned and cross-linked to an interface you didn’t understand.

They called it a miracle of modern war-efficiency. You called it a cage.

And Echo… he was the other half of it.

You weren’t in the same room—your pods were separated—but your minds were connected via the neural interface. Whenever they activated the system, your consciousness merged with his, just enough to collaborate on what they called “Strategic Simulations.” War games. Problem solving. Target prioritization.

You both knew the truth: they were using your combined intellect to predict Republic troop movements. Every algorithm you helped solve, every solution you helped generate, killed people you once called comrades.

“I hate this,” you whispered one day, during a low-activity cycle when the painkillers dulled your tongue. “I hate being part of this.”

A pause. Then his voice—steady but soft.

“So do I. But I think better when you’re here.”

You blinked. “…Thanks?”

“No, I mean it.” There was an awkward silence. “When I thought I was the only one… I was slipping. Couldn’t hold onto myself. But then you came. You reminded me who I am. Even in here.”

You swallowed, chest aching at the vulnerability in his voice.

“You’re not just a number, Echo,” you said. “You’re a person. And I see you.”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I see you too.”

⸻

Over Time, a Bond Formed.

There were days the interface ran endlessly—your minds linked for hours, pressed together in shared thought. You knew when he was angry, when he was calm, when he wanted to scream. You learned the rhythm of his reasoning, the cadence of his sarcasm, the echo of grief.

You shared stories in the dead zones. When the machines weren’t listening.

He told you about the 501st. About Fives. About Rex.

You told him about the Temple, your Master, your reckless flying.

Sometimes, you joked about escaping together. About finding a beach somewhere.

“Too many clones for me to trust the ocean,” he’d mutter. “One tide shift and half of them are trying to build a battalion out of sand.”

You’d laughed, a rusty sound. It felt foreign in your throat.

But that laughter became a kind of resistance. So did your connection.

The Techno Union noticed.

They began separating your sessions. Isolating your minds. Severing the link.

The day they cut the neural tether entirely, Echo’s voice disappeared from your thoughts like a light going out. You screamed against the restraints, powerless.

He was gone.

Days Passed. Then Weeks.

You started talking to yourself. Pretending he could still hear. Whispering plans you’d never execute, memories you weren’t sure were yours anymore.

Your mind began to unravel.

Until one day, the alarm blared.

You jerked awake as the facility shook. Outside your pod, Skakoans ran like ants. The machinery sparked. Your interface glitched.

And in the flicker of emergency lights—

A face.

Metal and flesh. Scarred and beautiful.

“Echo?” Your voice broke.

His eyes widened. “You—”

And then the moment was gone. Soldiers stormed in behind him. A trooper in matte black and red—Clone Force 99, you recognized them in a flash—pulled him back.

“They have another one,” Echo shouted. “She’s hooked into the system—she’s part of it!”

The taller clone, Hunter, paused. “Where?”

“There!” Echo pointed. “Don’t leave her!”

You tried to scream, but the interface surged, flooding your mind with static. Your body spasmed. Everything went white.

⸻

You Woke Up in a Medical Bay.

For a terrifying second, you thought it was still the Techno Union—until you saw the blue stripes on the armor around you.

The 501st.

And standing beside your cot, his Scomp link resting awkwardly against his side, was Echo.

Alive.

Free.

He looked thinner than you remembered. Hollow-eyed. As if he still didn’t quite believe it was real.

Neither did you.

“Hey,” you whispered, tears stinging.

He swallowed. “Hey.”

He crossed to you, hands trembling slightly as he reached for yours.

“I told them not to leave you,” he said. “I—I made them go back.”

“I knew you would.”

He laughed—a shaky, broken sound—and sat beside you.

“I thought I lost you,” he admitted. “When they cut the tether, I thought—”

“I know,” you murmured. “I felt it too.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. There was no need. You’d already shared your minds. Now all that remained was your hearts.

But Freedom Wasn’t Simple.

You were debriefed for days. The Jedi Council wanted answers. The Republic wanted data. Rex and Anakin debriefed Echo constantly, praising his resilience while ignoring the toll.

The 501st welcomed you cautiously. You weren’t a clone, not a general, just… someone in between. A survivor like Echo. A curiosity. A symbol.

The worst part? The silence between you and Echo.

Not intentional. Not cruel.

Just… fragile.

He was different now. Wary. Reserved.

You tried to reach him. But he kept walls up.

He still spoke to Rex and Jesse and the occasional whisper to Fives’ ghost, but you could tell—something had changed. Like being out of the system had broken something inside him.

One night, after lights-out in the barracks, you found him alone in the hangar.

“I miss the link,” you said.

He turned, surprised. “What?”

“I miss knowing what you felt. What you were thinking. Now… I don’t know how to reach you.”

His face twisted—pain, guilt, grief.

“I don’t want you to see what I am now,” he said. “I’m not the man you met in there. I’m more machine than—”

“Don’t say that.”

He looked at you, exhausted. “You don’t understand.”

“I do,” you said, stepping closer. “I was there. They took everything from both of us. But that connection we had? That wasn’t because of wires or data streams. That was real. And it still is.”

He stared at you like a drowning man seeing shore.

And then—finally—he let you hold him.

He didn’t kiss you. Not yet. The pain was still too fresh.

But when you curled into him that night, metal against flesh, scars against scars, you both knew: the war wasn’t over.

But you weren’t alone anymore.

#echo tbb #clone trooper echo #tbb echo x reader #tbb echo #echo #echo x reader #arc trooper echo #clone trooper x reader #clone wars #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars the clone wars #clone x reader #the clone wars headcanons #clone force 99 #echo tbb x reader

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dressed2k1ll · 1 year ago

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I’m giving up on men because

1. The fact that they all assume they’re experts in everything

2. The fact that they all assume they’re smarter than me immediately

3. The fact that they allow and use slurs to divide women like Karen, Pick Me, Terf, The Main Character, SWERF, prude, slut bitch

4. The only slur they have is incel which relies on the premise that they’re entitled to sex

5. Moms are expected to be perfect and if she makes a mistake she’s a bad mom. Dads are considered perfect despite their mistakes and even being a poor parent

6. They think sex is a service

7. They cannot have a magic sexual moral barrier that divides children from teens from women. I refuse to believe it. And the media sexualizes kids and infantilizes female sexuality… so what now?

8. That porn is so normalized and teen is a category and yet we can’t check a man’s porn viewing history before allowing them to coach, treat, or be alone with vulnerable people.

9. That some will and can and do have sex with corpses. That deadness is sexualized in fashion photography as arousing

10. That choking has become normalized in porn

11. That we know porn becomes increasingly more extreme through algorithm and capitalism

12. That they hide behind plausible deniability and think we are too stupid to see it - like the devils advocate position

13. That they convince themselves their plausible deniability is a moral standard

14. That even the normal married ones with little girls for kids are shitty

15. That they think their pleasure overrides the civil rights of a person

16. That they believe consent magically changes abuse into kink

17. That they don’t even know what misogyny is

18. That they think misandry is somehow comparable

19. That they think my hurting their feelings or making them feel uncomfortable is a violent act. That pointing out violence makes me the violent one.

20. That they defend Johnny Depp

21. That they’re afraid of false accusations

22. That they defend the reputations of men they haven’t met more than the reality of the women who report them lmao

23. They don’t take care of themselves physically

24. They can choose to be civilized but use animal evo psychology to defend subhuman actions

25. They believe that women’s sexuality is an economy for them

26. They created religion to usurp creative power from women

27. They convinced other men that humans came from a man’s rib, from a patriarchal god, when literally no man has NOT come through and from a woman.

28. They have sexualized every aspect of women’s existence including pain and crying

29. They’ve convinced women that empowerment is a feeling and not a change in power position

30. They blame their antisocial loneliness epidemic on us

31. The tried to use the Love Languages on us

32. They created psychiatry as a way to at least in part control women just as they created medicine to control and destroy midwives

33. They place the locus of responsibility outside themselves which makes them perpetual victims

34. They created purity culture

35. They created porn culture

36. They buy and use and masturbate to trafficked and vulnerable women and it doesn’t matter to them

37. They corner me in the workplace

38. They are always looking at us - I want to not be perceived sexually at all

39. They use women for all of their emotional dumping and we aren’t certified to handle it

40. They resent our happiness (shaming it)

41. We had to create laws to keep them from marrying and having sex with kids. Like, everywhere. We haven’t even succeeded globally

42. They hold women in power to an entirely separate standard than men

43. They’re lazy

44. They can solve complex problems and be incentive and self-improving at work, but are seemingly really incapable of doing this for relationships

45. They won’t see something unless it directly impacts them personally

46. They are emotionally unintelligent

47. They are violent

48. They are wilfully ignorant of the constant threat of sexual violence women face

49. They are making and using technology to get past consent

50. They believe women have a use value

51. They’re lying when they say they can’t show emotions : art, culture, music, etc belie this. And this is aside from the fact that we acknowledge their pride, nationalism, anger, boorishness, sulkishness, entitlement, jealousy, etc. these are emotions too.

52. They use power to get or pressure or coerce sex

53. They don’t mentor women professionally unless they’re sexually attracted to them physically

54. They’re bad and aggressive drivers

55. They’re predatory and some don’t know it ???????

56. They play dumb

57. They owe us reparations and refuse to even consider this - we were left out of Das Kapital

58. They try to turn their wives into their mothers

59. They moderate men and women differently in social media spaces

60. We can’t trust them as soldiers or peace corps

61. We can’t trust them alone with kids period - who do we tell kids to go to if they’re lost?!!

62. That they’ve turned violence into sex “body count” “fuck the shit out of you”

63. We can’t be honest with them - we have to tiptoe around them

64. I’m pissed more men aren’t speaking out about the obvious loss of civil rights of women globally - what the hell! It makes me believe that they kinda want it to happen (plausible deniability of course) because like it’s not gonna hurt them right?

65. At any given time I could pull up incidents where instead of intervening while a woman is being assaulted, the assault is filmed by other men. The reverse simply doesn’t happen.

66. They love borrowed authority

67. I hate them because when they ask “what do you want me to do about it?” And you say the most slacktivist thing, they won’t even do that. They’ll do NOTHING.

68. Because the most unsafe place for a woman in the world is the home

69. Because a woman is killed by an intimate partner globally every 11 minutes

70. Because the number one cause of death for pregnant women in the states is murder

71. Because they believe their morals are their best intentions. It’s like they all think they’re brave but he’s anyone done anything brave ?

72. They use weaponized incompetence to control people and be lazy

73. They believe sexism is benevolence

74. Because someone taught them that it’s the thought that counts and it almost never is the thought that counts

75. That gang rape is a thing

76. Because only a handful of men have most of the global wealth

77. They move goalposts: you can say what your experience is but they’ll discount it as one. You can say it’s others that have experienced the same thing and they’ll discount it as over represented.

78. There’s no acceptable way to be really angry with them, and express that, as a woman

79. They feel comfortable making comments about women’s physical appearance, touching us without our consent and bank on us not rocking the boat.

80. They refuse to believe in the wage gap

81. We could have child care as being mandated but because women are primary childcare givers, we don’t have this.

82. Medicine was only tested on both genders recently because it was too difficult to do apparently

83. Our medical issues aren’t taken seriously

84. Mass shooters are almost exclusively men

85. Because they moan about suicide rates and forget to mention all the women and kids and sometimes strangers that suicidal men take with them

86. They believe they’re entitled to sex - through payment guilt or force

87. They rarely care about what girls think unless they have a daughter

88. Cultures abort girl babies and before they just exposed them to the elements. As a result there’s India and China and the Middle East Hong Kong, South Korea, Taiwan Vietnam etc there are more men than women

89. They don’t stop female genital mutilation. And they could if they wanted to.

90. More than 100 million women are missing - the shortfall of the number of women in the world we would expect in the absence of sex discrimination

91. They desire us to be dependent on them. Independence terrifies them.

92. They let women leave the workforce during the pandemic.

93. They see male history, male writing, male law as standard and they aren’t. They’d freak out if the USA had 9 woman Supreme Court justices

94. They are more sexist than even racist

95. Male over female Domination is the first and most primal form of oppression

96. Prostitution is the first form of trafficking not the worlds oldest profession

97. They can compartmentalize the pain of others - especially if it doesn’t impact them or their family (their own private kingdom)

98. Every man assumes he’s the king and grows up taught that they deserve to own things, people and property

99. They see women as girls all as potential sexual objects. Especially if they’re mad.

100. They treat sex workers as a different class

101. Women don’t keep men as sex slaves

102. They’ve made the law such that women cannot logistically perform murder in self defence

103. They say porn is free speech and that it’s not real when it’s convenient

104. Despite all of this: all of the proof and every experience logged and litigated… that they don’t believe that women still are being oppressed under male supremacy.

105. Because someone has said it’s okay for drag queens to use “bitch serving cunt” as an expression of femininity- and claim it’s not misogynistic

106. Because of the so-called “husband stitch”

#misandry #misogyny #feminism #feminist

#terfblr #andrea dworkin #radical feminist #radical feminist safe #radical feminists please interact #radical feminist theory #andrea+dworkin #feminism #we should all be feminists

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emma23 · 4 months ago

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The bracelet affair :

Nathan bateman x reader

The quiet hum of Nathan’s estate was a comforting backdrop as you sat on the sleek kitchen counter, lazily sipping from a glass of wine. The sunlight filtered through the expansive windows, casting a soft glow over the stainless steel surfaces. Nathan stood a few feet away, effortlessly chopping vegetables, a towel slung over his shoulder. You couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of it all—a far cry from the complex algorithms and ethical debates he usually buried himself in.

“Did you know,” you said, swirling the wine in your glass, “that normal people don’t have to code their refrigerators to remind them to buy milk?”

Nathan glanced at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Normal people also buy expired milk and cry about it later. I’m solving problems.”

“Uh-huh. Solving problems, or just proving to the universe you’re the smartest guy in the room?”

“Can’t it be both?” he teased, his sharp jawline flexing as he bit into a carrot slice.

This was Nathan—arrogant, self-assured, but in a way that made you laugh rather than roll your eyes. He was your opposite in many ways. Where he thrived on chaos and control, you found comfort in simplicity. But somehow, the two of you worked. You didn’t question it much anymore; you were just... together.

“Dinner will be ready in fifteen,” he said, wiping his hands. “You want to pick a playlist, or are we going full jazz night again?”

“Jazz is classic. You can’t go wrong,” you replied, hopping off the counter to browse his ridiculous music library.

“Jazz it is,” he said, watching you with an unreadable expression as you leaned over the tablet.

Dinner was, as always, delicious. Nathan had a talent for throwing together meals that seemed effortless but were undeniably gourmet. You picked at your plate, catching him watching you from the corner of his eye.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your gaze.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, too quickly.

“Bull. Spill it.”

Nathan sighed, leaning back in his chair. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box. Your stomach did a small flip.

“Relax,” he said, noticing your wide-eyed look. “It’s not that.”

You huffed. “Maybe don’t pull out a jewelry box like that if you don’t want me jumping to conclusions.”

He slid the box across the table. “Open it.”

You raised an eyebrow but did as he said, revealing a sleek, gold bracelet with intricate engravings. It was undeniably beautiful, but also... not very you.

“It’s beautiful, but you don’t have to buy me jewelry,” you said. “You know I rarely wear it. I haven’t even had the opportunity to wear that ridiculously exuberant bracelet you bought.”

Nathan stiffened beside you, his casual demeanor slipping just a fraction. “I need you to wear this one,” he said.

“At all times,” he finished, his voice firm in a way that made you pause.

“Okay,” you said slowly, shrugging as you opened the clasp to put it on.

“It has a GPS chip inside,” he added, and your head snapped up.

“Wait, what?”

“Before you freak out—”

“You put a GPS in this thing?” you interrupted, glaring at him.

“It’s for your safety,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “What if something happens to you? This way, I can always find you.”

“Oh, that’s normal,” you said, dripping with sarcasm. “Totally casual to microchip your girlfriend like she’s a golden retriever.”

Nathan sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “It’s not like that. I just... I worry about you, okay? You make bad decisions sometimes.”

Your mouth dropped open in indignation. “Excuse me?”

“Remember the time you decided to take a shortcut through that abandoned construction site at night?”

You groaned. “I told you, I thought it was faster!”

“Or the time you tried to fix the garbage disposal and almost lost a finger?”

“I didn’t know it was on!”

Nathan leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Or the time—”

“Okay, I get it!” you cut him off, glaring. “I’m not exactly the poster child for sound decision-making. But this is still insane, Nathan.”

He leaned back, his expression softening. “Maybe. But I can’t help it. I need to know you’re safe.”

You sighed, your irritation melting slightly under the sincerity in his tone. “You know, there are less creepy ways to show you care.”

“Yeah, but this one is efficient,” he said, grinning.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. I’ll wear it. But if you start tracking my every move, I’m throwing it in the ocean.”

“Deal,” he said, his grin widening.

Later that night, tangled in the sheets, you couldn’t help but laugh as Nathan’s fingers traced absentminded patterns on your skin.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice low and lazy.

“Just thinking about how I’m officially a GPS-tracked girlfriend now,” you said, smirking.

Nathan chuckled, pulling you closer. “You’re not just tracked. You’re my whole world, Y/n.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, but you couldn’t resist teasing him. “Careful, Bateman. You’re starting to sound romantic.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You grinned, turning to face him. “You know, for a genius, you’re really bad at pretending you’re not a softie.”

Nathan smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And you, for someone who makes terrible decisions, somehow made the right one when you picked me.”

You snorted, poking his chest. “Or maybe you picked me. Which is really the only bad decision you’ve ever made.”

He laughed, pulling you on top of him. “Guess we’re both doomed, then.”

As you leaned down to kiss him, he added, “But at least I’ll always know where you are.”

You groaned, smacking his chest. “Nathan!”

“Just saying,” he said with a wink.

#nathan bateman #Nathan Bateman x reader #ex machina #oscar isaac #oscar isaac character #oscar isaac characters

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do-you-have-a-flag · 21 days ago

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putting aside the ethics of 'A.I' videos in their creation/usage/waste/economics, just on a purely technical level one thing i find interesting is no matter if the result looks photorealistic or like 3d CGI- it's all technically 2d image generation.

unless specifically used as an add on in a software for 3d rendering, of course, pretty much every ai video you see online is 2d art. the space rendered is a single plane, think of it like doing a digital painting on a single layer. the depth/perspective is an illusion that is frame by frame being rendered to the best ability of prediction based on data it has been fed.

obviously videos of 3d models in animation are a 2d file. like a pixar movie. but in video games you do have a fully rendered 3d character in a 3d rendered space, that's why glitches that clip through environments are so funny. it's efficient to have stock animations and interaction conditions programmed onto rigged dolls and sets.

by contrast if you were to use a generative ai in a similar context it would be real time animating a series of illustrations. of sounds and scenarios. the complexity required for narrative consistency and the human desire to fuck up restrictions hits up against a much more randomised set of programming. how would it deal with continuity of setting and personality? obviously chatbots already exist but as the fortnight darth vader debacle recently shows there are limits to slapping a skin on a stock chatbot rather than building one custom.

i just think that there's so many problems that come from trying to make an everything generator that don't exist in the mediums it is trying to usurp because those mediums have a built in problem solving process that is inherent to the tools and techniques that make them up.

but also also, very funny to see algorithmic 2D pixel generation being slapped with every label "this photo, this video, this 3d render" like it is at best description cgi, let's call it what it is.

but i could of course be wrong in my understanding of this technology, so feel free to correct me if you have better info, but my basic understanding of this tech is: binary code organised by -> human programming code to create -> computer software code that -> intakes information from data sets to output -> pixels and audio waveforms

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theaussieblue · 5 months ago

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I'm gonna complain a bit about the algorithm Tumblr uses to show me content.

I can't tell whether or not this hell site is trying to get me to engage so they're showing me rage posts, or if it's just that controversial posts get the most attention, but...

Most of the people who hate IDW STH and end up falling across my feed mostly fall into two camps. And these posts are usually full of all caps swear words in copious amounts.

The first hate it because they insist it's not the real Sonic. Admittedly, IDW sonic isn't the real sonic, but my thoughts on it can be found here. They don't like that IDW Sonic isn't happy go lucky and cheerful, and that Sonic isn't solving the problems with kick ass action and saying wisdom that sums up and resolves the conflict in a two minute speech that converts people to his side.

The second just hate Ian Flynn. Like, an unreasonable amount of hate for him, often for crap that he never said or did. Like, to listen to them talk you'd think that he's some sort of self declared Sonic Mastermind presiding from his IDW writers throne dictating everything to the editors who nervously rubber stamp the decrees from this self proclaimed arrogant God-King - instead of being a single writer on a team of three people who has to get every page he writes approved by a SEGA Japan official before it even becomes pencils on a page. And then the pencils have to be approved as well.

I know full well that there are people who don't like IDW Sonic for good, complex reasons, like how dark it gets, or that they don't like that Sonic's personal code in the comic is super simplistic, or the entirety of the Metal Virus Arc. But I don't tend to see them.

They're there, don't get me wrong, and I agree with them when they point out IDW's flaws, but they are far and few between because this hell site insists on showing me hot takes and controversial opinions constantly.

And I wonder... is this really what most people think? Or is this just the algorithm trying to make me angry?

#sonic trash #sonic the hedgehog #idw sonic

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felixcloud6288 · 9 months ago

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Dungeon Meshi Chapter 4

What was it like to read this series as it came out? This chapter feels like Kui is trying to address complaints about Marcille's usefulness.

The chapter image implies Marcille and Falin went to the same magic school. I assume the book in the bottom-left corner is the one Marcille refers to on how to pluck Mandrakes.

Looking back on all the chapters so far, Marcille has spent much of the journey complaining about the whole "Eating monsters" thing and hasn't actually contributed anything to the journey. In fact, I'd say she's mostly been a detriment since she had to get saved from a slime and a man-eating plant.

(Granted, Chilchuck also hasn't done anything of value, but he also hasn't needed rescuing, required the party to rest, or been complaining about things.)

And Marcille is acutely aware that she's not been helpful at all. She is so desperate throughout this chapter to show that her magic and education can help everyone.

The elaborate and highly inefficient method for harvesting madrakes in Marcille's book vs the very simple way Senshi harvests them kind of is reminding me about something that was talked about recently in a databases class I'm currently taking.

The problem the professor went over was "We have n number of CPUs we could divide our data between to speed up processing. We can make a lookup table that decides which CPU should be given which datapoint based on a cross reference of two fields in each datapoint. How do we ensure we maximize our CPU usage?"

The professor showed us what they called the "PhD student solution" which involved an elaborate pattern algorithm that causes you to build your lookup table in a complex snaking pattern. And in the end, the method is better at the things the existing methods were bad at but worse at solving problems that existing methods were already great at.

Then the professor showed us the "15 years experience" solution which used very simple calculations and was a light modification of the existing methods which allowed it to keep the strengths of the existing method and managed to avoid most of the issues with the existing method. The solution was elegant, easy to follow and replicate, and it was scalable to higher values of n and higher dimensional tables.

Anyway, Marcille's book is a PhD student solution. It works, but it was made by someone who was looking for a flashy solution that would get people's attention. How many dogs died because of this person's methods? Laios's solution sounds dumb but it's likely far better than Marcille's. Maybe the solution could just be to magic up a silence field so the Mandrakes can't make any noise when they scream.

Meanwhile, Senshi has the practical 15 years experience solution.

And Marcille decides to go through an elaborate process to show the value of the elaborate method as one might expect a PhD student to do.

Whatever Marcille was going to cast in chapter 2, it was different from what she cast this chapter. The runes she speaks are different and I can't find anything that looks the same.

That heart-to-heart was nice. Marcille wants to be the reliable one who can resolve every issue they encounter. But Laios doesn't want to exhaust Marcille by making her handle every situation they encounter. Being the reliable one all the time is exhausting; it's good to be able to defer to others in situations you're not the most capable in.

I was equally as shocked as Marcille when Laios said this. And this explains so much about the things I thought were strange about the basilisk.

If the chicken is the tail, then it doesn't actually matter that it was a rooster. It doesn't actually determine the basilisk's role in reproduction.

Nice touch putting a name and face to the basilisk researcher. It makes this world a little more alive that there is a person we can tie this silly fact to rather than it just being an arbitrarily known thing.

I noticed but didn't call him out on it last chapter, but I'm going to call him out this time: Senshi refers to Marcille as "the Elf-girl". And he only started calling her by her name when it turned out the mandrake she plucked tasted better than the mandrakes plucked with Senshi's methods.

Senshi's method is definitely the most practical way to handle killing mandrakes but it turns out that it's not the best way to harvest them. Meanwhile Marcille's method is flashy and harvests better quality mandrakes, but is overall too complex to be useful and still worse in general than Senshi's method.

If monster cuisine becomes a mainstream concept, maybe one day someone will find an effective method to harvest better quality mandrakes (Silence field).

I could hear the "beeowoop" on that last panel.

back

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi readthrough

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partisan-by-default · 5 months ago

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A recent study by the Swiss academic Michael Gerlich from the journal Societies about the impacts of AI usage introduces the term cognitive offloading. The question begged by that phrase is simple: when people turn to generative AI to complete complex tasks, and thereby give over the work of those tasks to a computer, how does that impact their capacity to critically engage with the world around them?

That study built out the hypothesis that the more somebody uses AI tools, the weaker their critical thinking skills get. There was substantial evidence gathered in the study gathering information about participants’ use of AI tools and both self-assessed and systematically assessed critical thinking skills. All of the evidence gathered supported the idea that people used AI to intentionally give up tasks that required serious thought, and those people’s critical thinking suffered as a result.

The thing that makes me worry is how much these people are giving up the very mental tasks that make them human. The feedback this study received from its participants brought forward observations that marveled at the time savings AI was providing them, and that actively worried about the loss of their capacity to respond to the world around them. Students worried that they were losing something very fundamental as well as they handed over their problem-solving to an algorithm.

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everything2go · 3 months ago

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Rhythm of the Shadows

(A Batfamily Fanfiction featuring Leyla Yılmaz)

---

Chapter 16: A League of Their Own

The Batcave hummed with quiet energy as the Batfamily worked late into the night. Tim was hunched over one of the computer terminals, trying to crack a set of encrypted files. Damian was busy running drills, occasionally glancing at his father for approval. Dick was on the phone with a contact in the GCPD, while Jason played with a knife, not really paying attention to anything in particular.

But despite the activity, something was off. Bruce, who had been pacing the Batcave for the past hour, wasn’t his usual stoic self. His jaw clenched as he reviewed the encrypted files on the main screen. This was a problem bigger than Gotham, and it had his mind preoccupied.

The Justice League needed help.

It had started a few hours earlier, when Superman called in. A high-level encryption was discovered in the League's secure communication system, and none of their usual experts could crack it. The encryption was unlike anything they had encountered before, designed with such complexity that even Cyborg’s advanced tech couldn’t make sense of it. They were facing an external threat—a cyberattack unlike anything they’d ever experienced.

Batman, ever the strategist, had immediately realized who was capable of solving this problem.

Without a second thought, he reached for the phone. He didn’t hesitate.

---

Leyla’s Call

Across town, Leyla Yılmaz was doing what she did best: solving problems. Her room, covered in plushies and anime posters, was littered with half-finished books and a glowing laptop. She was multitasking—listening to her favorite playlist, a mix of The Weeknd, Billie Eilish, and Kendrick Lamar, while cracking through a complex programming problem for a private client. She was a genius, after all, and at only 16, she was considered one of the best hackers in Gotham—possibly even the world. But when her phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number, she was immediately intrigued.

“Hello?” Leyla answered, glancing at the screen, already recognizing the number.

“Leyla,” came the familiar voice of Bruce Wayne. “I need your help.”

Her eyebrow arched. This wasn’t a normal request.

“Sure, what’s going on?” She pulled up a chair, sitting back, her voice suddenly serious.

“There’s a situation with the Justice League,” Bruce explained. “We’ve been hit with an encryption we can’t break through. I need you to come to the Batcave. Now.”

---

Arrival at the Batcave

It took her no time to get dressed and slip into the shadows. A quick swing on the rooftops, a flip through the open window, and Leyla was in the Batcave. As usual, she wasn’t fazed by the vastness of the place.

“Bruce,” she said with a small smile, though her expression turned serious when she saw the urgency in his eyes.

“Thanks for coming,” Bruce nodded, gesturing for her to sit at the workstation. “This is bigger than just Gotham. The Justice League’s communications are compromised. They need your help.”

Leyla raised an eyebrow. “The Justice League? That’s a bit out of my usual league, no pun intended.”

Bruce didn’t smile, but there was a flicker of respect in his eyes. “I trust your skills. The encryption is beyond what Cyborg or anyone else has been able to crack. It was designed by someone who knew how to avoid even the most advanced systems.”

Leyla leaned forward, her fingers already working over the keyboard. She loved a challenge. “What do you need from me?”

“The files are on this server,” Bruce said, tapping a few keys. The screen flickered for a moment, revealing an intricate web of encrypted data. “This attack could be from anyone—someone with access to the League’s internal systems. If we don’t stop it soon, we risk exposing the League’s most classified operations.”

“Got it,” Leyla said, cracking her knuckles. “Let me see what I can do.”

---

The Hack

Leyla’s fingers flew over the keyboard with precision, her mind racing through algorithms and code. She didn’t even need to think anymore—this was second nature to her. She analyzed the encryption, running through dozens of possibilities in milliseconds.

“Someone really wanted this to be foolproof,” Leyla muttered under her breath, tapping a series of keys to analyze the encryption’s origins. “This is… new.”

Tim, who had been watching her work from across the cave, was in awe. “She’s fast.”

Jason, leaning against the wall, grinned. “She’s got that hacker vibe. I’d trust her with anything.”

Damian, who had been glaring at the screen with no understanding of what was going on, crossed his arms. “She better not mess this up.”

“Give her time,” Dick said, keeping his voice calm. “Leyla’s the best.”

Bruce stood nearby, his hands folded in front of him, his expression unreadable. “Let’s just hope she can crack this. The Justice League’s future could be at stake.”

---

The Breakthrough

Leyla’s screen flickered. Then it changed.

“Done,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied smile. “It’s open.”

The encryption dissolved like a crumbling wall, revealing the files hidden behind it. It was an entire archive—communications from the Justice League’s most sensitive missions. Leyla’s sharp eyes scanned the contents, searching for anything out of place.

“There’s no sign of tampering… yet,” she said, scrolling through the data. “Whoever did this was meticulous. They were trying to keep it under wraps, but there are traces.”

Tim walked over, curious. “So, who did it?”

Leyla hesitated for a moment. “I’m running a trace now. This looks like it was done by someone with high-level clearance—almost like they had access to the Justice League’s secure systems for a while. But it’s not just a hack. This was an inside job.”

---

The Aftermath

Bruce stood silently, absorbing her words. “So, we have a mole.”

Leyla nodded. “Not just a mole. Whoever did this has been inside the system for a long time. They’ve been covering their tracks well.”

“Can you trace it back?” Tim asked.

Leyla shook her head. “Not right now. This encryption is too good. But I can set up a backdoor—give us a way to monitor the system from the inside.”

“That’s a start,” Bruce said, nodding in approval. “I’ll contact the Justice League and let them know we have someone on it. This could take a while, but for now, we’ve got the upper hand.”

---

The Decision

The Batfamily stood silently, reflecting on the weight of the situation. The Justice League had always been a group of unparalleled heroes, but now, a shadow of doubt had been cast upon them. A leak, an insider who knew all their secrets. They couldn’t afford to let this go unchecked.

As Bruce prepared to make the call to Superman, he turned to Leyla, his voice soft but sincere. “You’ve done more than just help us, Leyla. You’ve potentially saved the entire League. Thank you.”

Leyla shrugged, her signature grin returning. “It’s nothing. I’m just doing what I’m good at.”

Tim smirked. “You’re too modest. I think you just saved the world.”

“Pfft, please. That’s what the Justice League is for. I just hacked into their stuff.”

“Yeah, you just happened to break into their stuff,” Jason teased.

Bruce gave a rare nod of approval, his eyes showing the respect he had for the girl who had done the impossible. “Just don’t get any ideas about joining them. We need you here.”

Leyla chuckled. “Oh, trust me. I’m fine right where I am.”

And with that, the Batfamily was ready for the next steps. They had cracked the encryption, uncovered a mole, and saved the Justice League from a threat they hadn’t even known existed. But as always, the work was far from over.

One thing was certain, though—when Gotham needed her, Leyla Yılmaz would be ready.

#batfam #dc comics #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin #batman

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grumpygreenwitch · 1 year ago

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The Witches and Wizards Job 7-8

Around this point I actually read back and asked myself, "Is this moving too fast?" Then I remember the speed at which a Leverage episode actually moves and the kind of beating Harry usually picks up each book, and went, "Nah."

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SEVEN

The divide between magic and technology is a known quantity. Every wizard knows to stay away from most mechanical things; the more complex they are, the more likely they were to break. The more powerful the wizard, the quicker it was gonna happen. Even knowing these things, I hadn't realized how deep that boundary ran until I tried to find out anything about my prospective employers.

If it had been a magical entity, a spell, an artifact, between Bob and I we could have probably found out at least the basics, but Bob couldn't find out anything about the Leverage people. I wasn't crazy enough to try and scry something in Boston, never mind the range.

All I could tell was that Leverage was, apparently, a purely mundane affair. Based in Boston as they were I didn't doubt they'd run themselves into something other that the average human, but as the afternoon dragged on I began to realize I was going to have more luck finding out what, rather than getting any sort of information on whatever Deveraux and Ford actually had going on.

A smart man would have said no on principle. What little I could find out told me that if things had gotten so bad that an entirely non-magical outfit like Leverage had come looking for a wizard, then they were bad enough that walking away unscathed to enjoy that absurdly large paycheck was not guaranteed. Not even 50/50 odds.

But 50/50 was still better than no odds at all.

And I hadn't lied when I told Deveraux that I'm a curious man.

She'd written a number on the back of the card. Not a hotel, so they could have been anywhere. I eyed it while I called Butters and asked him to look after Mister while I was away. Then I called it.

"Harry." Deveraux actually sounded happy to hear me; it was refreshing.

"Train. The older the better," I told her. "That applies to any tech you want near me, too. Mouse comes with me."

"Yes, of course."

"The daily fee is… good." My voice cracked a bit despite my best attempt at sounding like it was not a holy-heck amount of money. I cleared it. "It's good. But I can't go longer than a week. One week and I'm coming back home, even if your problem's not solved."

"That's fine."

"And I need a basement."

"A b… A basement?"

"It's contained in case something bad happens."

"Ah." The fact she didn't ask questions told me containment was a common concern in both her line of work and mine. "Anything else?"

"I can't think of anything off the top of my head. I'm sure something will come up." Something did almost immediately. "A full briefing as soon as I'm there. No secrets, no lies. If I find out you've lied to me, I'll leave."

"We'll tell you as much as we know," she assured me, and I found myself believing her. "Welcome to the team, Harry."

It felt weird to be welcomed, to be made to feel as if I were part of a team that actually wanted me there. "When do you think you'll have everything ready?"

There was laughter in her tone. "When do you think you'll be packed?"

Three hours later I was at Union Station, being escorted off the oldest VW minibus in existence and onto a rail car that apparently I had all to myself, like something out of an Agatha Christie book. I'd packed Bob, my tools, a quick-spell kit, any books I thought might help, and a change of clothes. Mouse looked mournfully at me as the train began to move, and I couldn't blame him; it felt as if I were leaving a piece of myself behind.

I knew Chicago. It was home. I knew the people, the streets. I knew its seasons, its weather. I knew the hangouts of most of the dangerous creatures in it, both human and inhuman. I knew every layer of it, every mood, every current.

I knew very little about Boston except that it was a supernatural melting pot. Most creatures that crossed from the Old World or from Other Places and didn't come through the Nevernever landed in Boston; many stayed there, made lives there. There were inhuman families that were generations old, living side by side with the descendants of human immigrants. The divide between mortal and supernatural was as thin as my willpower in Boston.

Look, Deveraux had handed me a really big number.

The train never stopped. That struck me as weird, but then I'd never traveled first class on a train before, so I had no bar for normal. I tried to sleep, but the novelty of everything wore off a couple of hours into the trip, and panic began to settle in. What the hell was I doing? I was Chicago's wizard, not Boston's!

Well, it was done. The AC broke about halfway through the trip, but with the windows open I never even noticed. I got my books out and read, trying to give myself a crash course on the magical scene in Boston, so to speak. Mouse took over one of the windows and seemed to have forgiven me, head thrust out into the wind of our passage, jowls flapping and the plume of his tail wagging sedately. He scared the crap out of the one person I did see, a young man who brought me breakfast and lunch, somehow still warm.

The sun had just set when the train pulled into the Back Bay. I could feel the air buzzing all around me with an imperceptible, invisible charge, the ambient energy of hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of supernatural creatures crackling against my senses. I felt both supercharged and itchy, and Mouse shook himself furiously when we finally made it off the rail car.

There was a man waiting for me on the concourse. He was tremendously solid, the sort of build I used to wish for when I was young, heavy muscle under a worn leather jacket, faded blue jeans and comfortable curb-stomper boots. He had long, very fine brown hair and oddly guileless blue eyes. He had stubble matching mine and he straightened up from his lazy slouch with the ease of someone perfectly at peace with the world around him.

I couldn't see the bulge of a gun anywhere, but I was pretty sure this was Leverage's heavy hitter.

Then he grinned at me, and his whole face lit up, and I thought maybe I was wrong. "Dresden?"

"That's me," I admitted.

He offered his hand without hesitation. "Eliot Spencer. Eliot's fine. Sorry to drag you so far from home."

This man was a walking contradiction. His hands told me I was right. His attitude told me I was wrong. He was the nicest, friendliest man with violence as his main occupation that I'd ever met up to that point in my life. He meant every word of his apology. He was sizing me up for threats.

Belatedly, I realized that Boston was literally supercharging me. My senses, both magical and normal, were trying to run away with me. I had nothing else at the moment; I clung to the hand Eliot Spencer offered, to the strength in it. "Oh, you didn't, not really. Too curious for my own good. Give me a second, would you?"

"You ok, man?"

"Just a little… drunk on the night air," I said, knowing how that had to sound to him.

I was not expecting the change that went over him. It was seamless, instantaneous. One moment Eliot Spencer was welcoming me to his home like a ray of sunshine; the next he was all deadly intent, a sort of quiet, intangible menace radiating from him like the darkest light. "A problem?" he asked mildly.

It told me two things; one, that I was right after all and two, that whatever had brought me to Boston was big enough to have this calm, steady man on a hair-trigger. "No, it's…. Boston's busy. Boston's real busy when it comes to magic. It hangs in the air, makes it thick, and it's giving me a head rush."

"Chicago's not like that?"

"No. The Lake grounds it. Water's good for that."

"I could take you by the Charles if it would help - hey!" And just like that the ray of sunshine was back when Mouse came trotting back from wherever he'd gone to take care of his business. Eliot dropped down to a crouch. "Who's this, Mouse, I think?"

"Yeah. Just watch out, he's not always -" Mouse, tail a blur, charged the Leverage man with a delighted huff and proceeded to lick anything Eliot didn't vigilantly protect, making him chuckle. Well. That was new. And good news for me. "Friendly. He was also a lot smaller when he was a puppy."

Eliot straightened up, rubbing Mouse's head with rough affection. My dog looked blissful, tongue lolling to one side. "Bait-and-switched you, huh."

"It might've been, if he'd given me any choice in the matter."

"He's big for a Tibetan Mastiff," Eliot pointed out. "Wrong color, too."

"He's not. He's a Tibetan Temple Mastiff."

Again that brief pause. Eliot looked down at Mouse. Mouse looked up at him.

The Leverage man grinned again and rubbed Mouse's ears. "Eh, he looks dog enough for me. Anyway. If you're feeling better, let's get you settled. I rented a van."

"Cars get temperamental with me around."

"Dresden, if you can break down a u-Haul, I'll believe you're a wizard no further questions. Where's your luggage?"

EIGHT

Apparently the Leverage people weren't unfamiliar with what happened when you put magic too close to tech. I was put up in their 'temporary' quarters, a small house a lick away from their actual place of business, a loft over a bar by the incredibly Irish name of John McRory's Place.

The house was nice. It had a fenced yard that Mouse promptly claimed as his own and a finished basement that I promptly claimed as my own. The bedroom looked suspiciously like someone had ordered it directly from a catalog, sheets and all. The only other rooms that were accessible were one bathroom and the living room, which had been set up as a meeting area of sorts. The kitchen was empty. The other rooms were full of crates.

There was dinner from the pub waiting for me that night, and a phone in a manila envelope. I offered to share my beer with Eliot; the phone died with a sad little squawk before we finished it.

"That's gonna make things hard," he admitted wryly, examining the dead screen of the phone. "I take it a bluetooth's out of the question?"

"The more parts to it, the quicker it goes."

I saw him get very thoughtful. "What about size? The bigger it is?"

"How big are we talking about?" I asked mildly, sensing a chance to finally get some information as to what had brought me to Boston.

"TV screen," Eliot answered without hesitation, then spread his arms. "Yay big."

"What were you doing at the time?"

"Trying to get a composite from a bunch of blurry pictures."

"What happened?"

"It cracked." He grinned wryly. "Top to bottom. We took that thing out to the recycling in two halves." His jovial mood faded. "I don't like the look on your face right now, Dresden."

"You shouldn't." I was trying to think of creatures that could shatter a screen like that, with just their image, without actually being there. It was a short list; it was also a very scary list. "It wasn't anything else, it had to be the picture?"

"The man who works our tech is the best, hands-down. His equipment doesn't blow up like that without a good reason," Eliot said calmly, then put his hands up. "Wait, no, I'm supposed to let you rest tonight. You're gonna hear all this tomorrow morning anyway."

"I did nothing but sleep on the train ride," I told him. I won't lie, it felt nice to know the Leverage outfit, whatever their business might be, gave enough of a damn to give me the night to myself. Most people who hire me for that kind of money expected 24-7 service, never mind what kind of shape I might be in at the end of the day. "Tell me what you can."

He gave me one of the few measuring looks I've ever gotten that didn't have my harm at heart before he made a decision and tipped his head toward the pub. "Come on."

"Mouse, watch the place." Mouse flopped in front of the door and settled down with a yawn.

The front of the pub was roaring, but we came in from the back. Eliot knocked softly on a door, poked his head in and murmured something to someone in there. I caught a faint whiff of something sweet, almost like licorice - probably a storage room, and a bottle of liquor had broken and been cleaned up. Eliot got his answer; he closed the door and we moved on. He peeked out into the main floor and called out something I couldn't hear over the noise of the crowd before heading to a pair of elevator doors.

I stopped walking. "Uh…"

He paused, turned, and led me to the stairs, grinning. "You know, I don't even think about most of this stuff. Tech's embedded so deep into our lives."

"I just wish for a hot water heater that didn't break in under a week," I told him.

"Yikes."

"Yup."

"Just keep your distance from Hardison's tech," Eliot warned me as he led me into a vast, elegant little loft. The bare brick walls had paintings on them that looked… modern. Expensive. I didn't know enough about art back then to appreciate what they were. A spiral staircase led up to what was probably a bedroom, and behind it was a typical modern kitchen. Most of the open space was taken up by a very modern, very sleek meeting room sort of setup, a wall full of screens and a small curve of desks before it. "He's still sore about those screens."

"Screens? More than one?"

"Yeah, a second one a day after -"

A young woman came flying into the loft. "Where is he? Where's the wizard?"

"Parker, don't -"

She whirled and faced me, and immediately made a face. "Aren't you supposed to have a white bushy beard?"

"Not for another couple hundred years."

I hadn't expected my quip to bring her up short, but it did. She seemed to really think about it, and it gave me a chance to examine her. She was young, wiry, blonde, pretty. She had the same kind of intensity Karrin had, but her focus seemed to change from minute to minute.

"Oh. I didn't think about that. There have to be young wizards to get old wizards."

"Parker." Eliot sighed.

"No robes?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Fancy spell books?"

"I do have one of those."

"Can I see it?"

"Parker, let the man catch his breath." Sophie Deveraux looked cozy and elegant and beautiful in a flowing blue blouse and a shimmering gray skirt. She beamed at me and I felt warm and fuzzy. Look, I'm man enough to admit it, I'm a sucker for a pretty lady, particularly one that doesn't want me dead. "Harry."

"Miss Deveraux."

"Just Sophie, Harry, please. Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait?"

"I'm good. I got all my rest in the train ride. Boston's full of energy, and it's making me buzzed, I rather put some of it to work, get it out of my system -"

"Why do you carry a stick?"

I whipped around. Parker had my wand in her hands.

Hell's Bells, I'd never even felt the theft. My wand, and I would have never known she'd gone for it if she hadn't said something.

Something in my face clued Sophie and Eliot that things had gone very badly, very quickly. "Parker!" Sophie cried out.

With all the care of someone handling live explosives, Eliot closed a hand over the 'stick'. "We are trying," he told her, sticking to his calm demeanor like tar, "to make a good impression, Parker."

"Oh, fine. Should I give everything else back?"

I took the quickest stock of my person I'd ever taken in my life. Immediately I found another thing missing that I would have never thought could be taken from me without my notice. How in the hell -!

"Yes!" Sophie told her firmly.

"Well, he didn't have anything interesting anyways," Parker put out her hand with my wallet on it.

And my shield bracelet.

Eliot offered me my wand back, looking sheepish. "Sorry, man."

"I just - how?" Seriously. Never mind the theft, everything was coming back to me, nothing was broken, no one was hurt, I just wanted to know how she'd done it.

"Parker is the best in the world," Sophie said, somehow managing to convey warm pride and icy disapproval all in one. Parker squirmed uncertainly. "She should also bear in mind that as of now you're part of our team, and we don't pickpocket teammates."

Parker held strong under the tone of disapproval longer than I would have. "Sorry," she muttered with ill grace.

"No harm no foul if you teach me how to do it."

She grinned, just a little. "Deal."

"Also, where should I stand so I'm as far away from anything tech-y as possible?"

"Right there." Nathan Ford had arrived, and the mask was off. He still looked vaguely friendly, a little rumpled, somewhat distracted. But there was nothing hiding the ruthless ice in his eyes anymore, or the deep mistrust in the gaze he leveled at me. I was in his world, in his domain, I was his employee. The carrot had done her job, the stick didn't have to mind his manners anymore. "Right there's fine, mister Dresden."

Ford passed everyone by and moved to the kitchen to find himself, apparently, some coffee. "Where's Hardison?"

"He said he wanted to take a few more pictures of the cylinder we found at the museum," Eliot told him. "He's in the storage room."

"What cylinder?" Something was bugging me. It wasn't big, at least not big enough to pin it down, but it was there, nagging at the back of my mind like a toothache after too much sugar.

"There was an issue at the Isabella Gardner Museum," Sophie told me. "Someone tampered with the fire suppression system. They attached some kind of homemade cylinder to the system and it started pumping something out in the air, some sort of perfume." She shrugged lightly. "We don't know why, there was no need for it."

"Perfume?"

"Yes. Fernflower."

I was running the next moment, going on a guess and a prayer. The guess was that the closed door was the storage room. The prayer was that I wouldn't be too late.

The moment I hit the bottom floor a faint reek of sweet, rotten candy and burning flowers made me reel back, coughing, my lungs burning. I could definitely smell the fernflower; worse, I could also smell night's breath. This was some deep, deep magic. Deep and old. Someone had cooked up a Burning Witchwell, and Leverage had blundered right into it. Only luck had kept any of them from being magically inclined, but that luck had run out with the fernflower.

Eliot was right behind me, and he threw a hand over his face. He snatched a bunch of cloth napkins from a nearby shelf and shoved them at me. "What is that?!"

I ran on and shoved the door open to the storage room. There was a man kneeling on the floor before a table, wheezing. The fernflower fumes burned my eyes and I actually heard my skin hiss on contact with the night's breath, but I was running on Boston air. I was so charged up I barely registered any pain.

"Venti, ventum!" I shouted. Wind poured into the storage room. Everything went flying off the shelves. I felt my magic careen out of control, as supercharged as I was, and fought to bring it back under control. I didn't want to wreck the room, I just wanted to get the man to safety, away from the fumes.

"Hardison!" Eliot had already dashed past me, catching the man. He was lanky, lean, deceptively muscled, possibly an inch or so taller than me. His skin was very dark and it had gone blotchy where the night's breath had had time to settle down and sink in. He slurred something unintelligible and squinted intently at me; I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was seeing.

"Dresden?!" Eliot asked, spitting his own hair out of his mouth.

"Go, get him out!"

He didn't question me. I could have danced a happy jig at that show of trust. I backed out of the room; I was one step past the doorway when helpful hands slammed the door shut. "Does the ventilation system here connect to the pub?"

"No, it goes straight out," Ford replied.

"Then just put some…" The borrowed energy from the Boston ambiance ran out. I felt pain creep up over any part of me not covered by fabric. "Put some…"

"Sophie, put some towels at the bottom," Ford's voice was full of calm, focused competency. "Parker, go tell the front of house no one is to come into this room until one of us says otherwise. Eliot." There was a pause. "Dresden, is a hospital going to help either of you?"

"He's fine." Oh, that was Ford's shoulder under my arm, holding me up. When had that happened? "Unless he's got magic, he's just drunk. Sort of."

"And you?"

"I'm a little blistered." I was a little more than blistered, but I had the advantage of knowing the damage wasn't real. "No hospital. A bath."

"Alright. Let's get you and Hardison up to the loft, then."

I wasn't in any shape to argue. I got shoved under a spray of miraculously hot water. Someone peeled my clothes off. At some point I realized I trusted only two people in the loft, and one of them was helping undress me. "Wash your hands," I told Eliot. "Wash the clothes."

"Can we burn them?"

"Don't burn my clothes, I didn't bring any more." I stared at him suspiciously; well, there was only one person I trusted anymore. "Tell Parker to watch my things."

Eliot offered a sound of deeply amused disbelief. Somewhere nearby a man's voice was tunelessly singing what sounded like a church song. "Drunk?"

"Intox… Intec… Sort of. Fernflower gives you magic. See things. Talk to animals. Sorta thing. But it's eph… emph…. It fades quick. You gotta lace it with… other stuff. It It wasn't the weapon, the night's breath was."

"Night's breath?"

"Old plant. Burns up magic. Night's breath was fire. Fernflower was gasoline. 's called a… a Burning Witchwell."

"You aren't breathing right, man."

"Fake. I'll be fine when my…. when my magic comes back. Easy, in this place."

"Fake damage." At that Eliot did look disbelieving. "Hurt's hurt."

"Particularly if you believe in it," I shot back, then put my head up to the spray of hot water. "Oh, that feels good."

I heard Eliot snort in amusement. "Well, enjoy it while you can. Haven't blown up this heater."

"Give me a chance, I just got here."

#leverage #nathan ford #alec hardison #sophie devereaux #eliot spencer #parker #the dresden files #harry dresden #crossover #my writing #fanfiction #urban fantasy #mild violence

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anonymousdormhacks · 7 months ago

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Nothing can sum up my semester better than an interaction I had with a TA which went like Me: I need help solving this problem. The professor wants us to solve this problem with an algorithm here under a certain time complexity, but I don't know what exactly I'm supposed to do first? TA: takes a look at the problem. I- this is NP-Hard? That's an impossible task Me: okay well, I still have to solve it if I want points, soooooo...?

#personal #eye contact with the abyss #computer science #computer engineering #studyblr #university #student life #academia

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notational · 7 months ago

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Revising a statement I wrote years ago. It both uses and addresses AI in the context of learning and thinking.

“If we value independence, if we are disturbed by the growing conformity of knowledge, of values, of attitudes, which our present system induces, then we may wish to set up conditions of learning which make for uniqueness, for self-direction, and for self-initiated learning.” — Carl Rogers “The conditions of a true critique and a true creation are the same: the destruction of an image of thought which presupposes itself and the genesis of the act of thinking in thought itself.” — Gilles Deleuze, Difference & Repetition

Thinking my own thoughts is often a struggle, but it is a struggle worth having. This struggle pushes against the forces of standardization, conformity, and passivity that pervade so much of modern life. I find myself asking: am I truly thinking, or merely going through the motions? I pose the same question to everyone I work with—collaborators, peers, students, and friends—encouraging them to resist the easy paths of imitation and regurgitation. The moments I value most are when people surprise me—and, even more, when they surprise themselves—with ideas or creations that challenge the boundaries of their thinking.

This struggle for independent thought faces new challenges and opportunities in the age of artificial intelligence and machine learning. Depending on how these tools are used and understood, they risk accelerating conformity and standardization, automating not only tasks but ways of thinking. If we reinforce an image of thought that presupposes itself, AI may close off opportunities for genuine rethinking. And yet, as Doug Engelbart envisioned with his concept of augmented intelligence, the true potential of these technologies lies not in replacing human thought but in amplifying it. Engelbart imagined tools that extend human capacities—helping us think more deeply, solve complex problems, and collaborate effectively. Learning, in this context, becomes a process where people partner with technology, harnessing its strengths while cultivating their own uniquely human qualities: curiosity, empathy, and imagination.

My project, Another Human in the Loop, reflects this philosophy. It explores how humans and AI can collaborate in ways that deepen creative processes, using AI not as a passive tool but as an active participant in generating new possibilities. Through this work, I’ve come to see that we must develop not only critical thinking and technical skills but also the ability to ask fundamental questions: How can AI challenge us to think differently? How do we avoid being constrained by the biases and patterns it reinforces? How do we maintain a spirit of play, wonder, and discovery in an age of algorithmic efficiency?

As Engelbart understood, the tools we use shape how we think, and the process of learning must prepare us to shape our tools in turn. This requires fostering a mindset of exploration and adaptability. I aim to create environments where distinctions between teacher, student, artist, and researcher blur—where we think with one another, not for one another, and where technology becomes a catalyst for deeper inquiry rather than a substitute for creativity.

At the heart of my practice is the belief that learning is a shared endeavor through which we become not only better thinkers and makers but more fully human: empathetic, adaptable, and imaginative. I encourage everyone to embrace the awkwardness of first steps and the uncertainty of experimentation, for these are the moments when true learning happens—when we surprise ourselves by creating something we never thought possible.

Learning, like augmented intelligence, thrives in collaboration. While AI and online tools provide powerful avenues for sharing information, the most meaningful discoveries often happen in shared presence. They occur in the quiet spaces where ideas take root, in the sparks of collective discovery, and in the ongoing dialogue of making and re-making. My role is to catalyze and coordinate a community of experimenters who see themselves as learners and creators, willing to challenge assumptions and embrace new possibilities.

Together, we can reimagine what it means to learn, think, and create in the 21st century. By integrating Engelbart’s vision, we move toward a model of learning that doesn’t merely adapt to technological change but actively shapes it—empowering us to harness technology as a force for growth, creativity, and connection.

#education #ai

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cautiousslug · 8 months ago

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I sat in the laboratory with a 3000w inverter in my hands, silently chanting: "Three-phase output power control…" Suddenly, there was an exclamation next to me:

"What? Three-phase output control!"

The laboratory was in an uproar. Researchers looked at each other in astonishment, as if I had just said some shocking secret. An elderly engineer with white hair and wearing a lab coat stared at me in disbelief: "Isn't this the new energy technology concept proposed recently? Even experts are still discussing how to optimize the power control of inverters. You have actually mastered the actual operation?" The laboratory director came over with a solemn expression, apparently reporting up through the communication equipment. Soon, experts from the Energy Technology Research Institute, representatives of the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology and industry leaders rushed over. The experts brought thick technical documents, seemingly to witness this "unworldly talent" with their own eyes.

"Young man," the head of the technical group pushed his glasses, his expression solemn, "you don't need to continue testing. We have decided to hire you exceptionally. Talents like you should not be researchers, but should stand at the forefront of technology and lead the direction for the entire energy industry." The representative of the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology also praised: "Your contribution to the future energy field can be described as a milestone in technological revolution! If you are not satisfied with the position of the research institute, my director position can be given to you!" The surrounding engineers and researchers have long cast envious eyes. Some even whispered, guessing whether I was a direct disciple of some hidden scientist. I just shook my head calmly and shrugged, with a slight smile on my lips: "Well, it's rare to see."

Should the story end here? Of course not! Things are far from that simple. A few days later, I stood in the control room of the National Energy Research Center, surrounded by unsolved energy allocation problems and power grid scheduling algorithms waiting to be optimized. I originally thought that sitting in the high position of technology leader, I could easily use inverter technology to conquer all energy management problems. However, when I really began to face these complex power demands and energy transmission problems, I found that things were not as simple as I imagined. "The stability of multi-energy grid connection… intelligent load balancing of smart grids…" I looked at the complex power flow diagrams on the screen with my brows furrowed. Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded behind me: "Do you really think that 3000w inverter is the ultimate weapon?" I turned around abruptly and saw an elegant middle-aged scientist. He walked towards me with a smile, holding a technical manual annotated with complex circuit diagrams in his hands. "Inverter technology," he said softly, "is just the beginning."

I was stunned. What's the situation? Is the peak of the energy revolution still far from coming?

From that day on, I began to study the mysterious technical manual day and night. However, as time went by, I found that these so-called "ultimate solutions" were nothing. Those complex circuit diagrams and algorithms became clear to me, as if I was born to understand them. The pen in my hand was almost automatically flying on the whiteboard, and the derivation steps kept pouring out, as if with divine help.

In less than a week, I completely mastered the entire manual, and every design and every innovative idea was clear to me. Then, on a sunny afternoon, I stood in front of the laboratory, and the last technical difficulty had been solved. I leisurely stretched and felt that the research and development during this period was really too easy.

"Well, is this the so-called ultimate optimization of energy transmission?" I said to myself, with a confident smile on the corner of my mouth, "It's really unsatisfactory."

Just as I was about to throw away my pen and leave casually, the laboratory suddenly began to vibrate slightly, and all the data streams on the display stopped. In an instant, a light burst out of the experimental equipment, enveloping the entire room in a strange atmosphere.

"What's the situation?" I frowned, although the scene in front of me was shocking, I was still calm. At this moment, the mysterious scientist appeared again. He looked at me in disbelief: "You…have you solved all the core problems of energy management?"

I shrugged indifferently: "Yes, it's nothing special. It just feels like ordinary practice."

The scientist stared at me in shock: "Impossible! These problems cannot be completely solved even by top scientific research teams. You actually solved them all in just a few days!"

"Oh, I see," I smiled indifferently, "I probably have a unique understanding of energy technology."

At this moment, the entire laboratory was wrapped in a powerful electromagnetic energy, and I was once again drawn into the light. When I regained consciousness, I found myself standing in a magnificent energy technology space, surrounded by complex circuits, sensors and energy flows, as if in the universe of energy science and technology. The scientist was still following me, excited beyond words: "This is the ultimate world of energy technology! Only the top geniuses can enter, and you…you will become the master of this field!"

I shook my head gently, completely at ease: "Is this the ultimate field of energy technology? It's nothing." I looked up at the countless floating circuit diagrams and energy flows, as if they were all waiting for me to dominate. I smiled lightly and waved my hand, all the difficulties were instantly straightened out, and the whole space was surrendered to me.

"From now on, this is my world," I said softly, with a firm gaze full of infinite confidence. The scientist could no longer speak, he could only look up at me, his eyes full of awe. Thus, I stood at the pinnacle of energy technology, overlooking everything. And the initial inverter experiment was just a trivial episode I casually described.

#cute #battery #inverter #ai generated #art #ai girl #ai #ai artwork #ai art

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uthra-krish · 2 years ago

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The Skills I Acquired on My Path to Becoming a Data Scientist

Data science has emerged as one of the most sought-after fields in recent years, and my journey into this exciting discipline has been nothing short of transformative. As someone with a deep curiosity for extracting insights from data, I was naturally drawn to the world of data science. In this blog post, I will share the skills I acquired on my path to becoming a data scientist, highlighting the importance of a diverse skill set in this field.

The Foundation — Mathematics and Statistics

At the core of data science lies a strong foundation in mathematics and statistics. Concepts such as probability, linear algebra, and statistical inference form the building blocks of data analysis and modeling. Understanding these principles is crucial for making informed decisions and drawing meaningful conclusions from data. Throughout my learning journey, I immersed myself in these mathematical concepts, applying them to real-world problems and honing my analytical skills.

Programming Proficiency

Proficiency in programming languages like Python or R is indispensable for a data scientist. These languages provide the tools and frameworks necessary for data manipulation, analysis, and modeling. I embarked on a journey to learn these languages, starting with the basics and gradually advancing to more complex concepts. Writing efficient and elegant code became second nature to me, enabling me to tackle large datasets and build sophisticated models.

Data Handling and Preprocessing

Working with real-world data is often messy and requires careful handling and preprocessing. This involves techniques such as data cleaning, transformation, and feature engineering. I gained valuable experience in navigating the intricacies of data preprocessing, learning how to deal with missing values, outliers, and inconsistent data formats. These skills allowed me to extract valuable insights from raw data and lay the groundwork for subsequent analysis.

Data Visualization and Communication

Data visualization plays a pivotal role in conveying insights to stakeholders and decision-makers. I realized the power of effective visualizations in telling compelling stories and making complex information accessible. I explored various tools and libraries, such as Matplotlib and Tableau, to create visually appealing and informative visualizations. Sharing these visualizations with others enhanced my ability to communicate data-driven insights effectively.

Machine Learning and Predictive Modeling

Machine learning is a cornerstone of data science, enabling us to build predictive models and make data-driven predictions. I delved into the realm of supervised and unsupervised learning, exploring algorithms such as linear regression, decision trees, and clustering techniques. Through hands-on projects, I gained practical experience in building models, fine-tuning their parameters, and evaluating their performance.

Database Management and SQL

Data science often involves working with large datasets stored in databases. Understanding database management and SQL (Structured Query Language) is essential for extracting valuable information from these repositories. I embarked on a journey to learn SQL, mastering the art of querying databases, joining tables, and aggregating data. These skills allowed me to harness the power of databases and efficiently retrieve the data required for analysis.

Domain Knowledge and Specialization

While technical skills are crucial, domain knowledge adds a unique dimension to data science projects. By specializing in specific industries or domains, data scientists can better understand the context and nuances of the problems they are solving. I explored various domains and acquired specialized knowledge, whether it be healthcare, finance, or marketing. This expertise complemented my technical skills, enabling me to provide insights that were not only data-driven but also tailored to the specific industry.

Soft Skills — Communication and Problem-Solving

In addition to technical skills, soft skills play a vital role in the success of a data scientist. Effective communication allows us to articulate complex ideas and findings to non-technical stakeholders, bridging the gap between data science and business. Problem-solving skills help us navigate challenges and find innovative solutions in a rapidly evolving field. Throughout my journey, I honed these skills, collaborating with teams, presenting findings, and adapting my approach to different audiences.

Continuous Learning and Adaptation

Data science is a field that is constantly evolving, with new tools, technologies, and trends emerging regularly. To stay at the forefront of this ever-changing landscape, continuous learning is essential. I dedicated myself to staying updated by following industry blogs, attending conferences, and participating in courses. This commitment to lifelong learning allowed me to adapt to new challenges, acquire new skills, and remain competitive in the field.

In conclusion, the journey to becoming a data scientist is an exciting and dynamic one, requiring a diverse set of skills. From mathematics and programming to data handling and communication, each skill plays a crucial role in unlocking the potential of data. Aspiring data scientists should embrace this multidimensional nature of the field and embark on their own learning journey. If you want to learn more about Data science, I highly recommend that you contact ACTE Technologies because they offer Data Science courses and job placement opportunities. Experienced teachers can help you learn better. You can find these services both online and offline. Take things step by step and consider enrolling in a course if you’re interested. By acquiring these skills and continuously adapting to new developments, they can make a meaningful impact in the world of data science.

#data science #data visualization #education #information #technology #machine learning #database #sql #predictive analytics #r programming #python #big data #statistics

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