#programming hell

[attibar]

You know what's worse than software by Apple?

Having to develop the code for iOS apps using said software.

It was supposed to be simple: port my work's native Android app onto iOS like we do for many of our apps. This one in particular delt with combining videos and overlaying chosen music over it. Our lead iOS developer had left and found a different job several months back, in retrospect that should've been a warning.

I'm the main Android app developer at our work and got assigned to get better at iOS development for this. But Apple, my fucking god Apple. It's not even a matter of different coding language, this is 100% an abusive relationship.

In the past two weeks Apple's own coding software, xCode, has suddenly crashed on me more times than I can count. Like one second it works and a split second later it just closes and I lose my progress.

When it came to video mixing Android had spoiled me. If I wanted to add a still image between videos it'd only take five lines. And iOS? It doesn't have that functionality at all. I have to take a still fucking image, save it as a video, and then use it. Absolutely wasteful.

I needed a place to save the created videos and there's a directory available called NSMovieDirectory or some shit. Sweet, that's a perfect place to save the videos to! Right?

Turns out although the NSMovieDirectory is in there, you can call it, it's not implemented for iOS devices, only Macs. A fucking variable you can call in iOS development doesn't even work for iOS devices. This is not a one off experience I've seen this happen with methods and variables multiple times.

Out of the blue xCode suddenly decided to stop auto predicting as I typed. This also included no longer showing any typos or other errors.

For whatever god forsaken reason if xCode detects several physical devices that it can run debug on, it will always pick a wireless device and NEVER the device you have literally plugged into your computer! The number of times I've started a debug build and waited for the app to start only to realize it's running on some unknown device elsewhere in the office is too damn high.

I felt my computer slowly dying installing all the needed files to run xCode. Forty. Fucking. Gigabytes. That's what's needed to merely use the damn thing. If you don't have physical devices and have to use simulators that gets even higher.

Designing UI layouts while dealing with different screen sizes and orientation changes is a whole circle of hell. I'd go into further detail why but that would make this post several pages long. Just know that it is far more convoluted and buggy than it has any right to.

TLDR: If you're using an iOS app and wonder why it's buggy, more than likely it's because the developers were being dragged into programming hell by Apple.

TLDR2: For the love of all that is holy and good in this world don't be like my workplace: use something to make iOS apps that isn't native iOS.

[colorful-horses]

charlie

[foldbaron]

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[antiwhores]

Bakugou seems to have an entitlement to you.

Even though you verbally express how much you hate his guts, he still tells other people that you’re his. It pisses you off more than anything.

He’s been like this since middle school. He bullied you but when someone else tried to do the same he’d loose his shit. He would corner you and dump out your entire book bag. Then you’d have to scramble to pick up the items on the floor. He would even kick some stuff away as you reached for it. Your teeth clenched at his laughter from your frustration because apparently knowing you couldn’t do anything about the treatment was so fucking hilarious to him.

That wasn’t even the worst thing you’d have to deal with from him. Even so, he’d still find a way to boast to everyone that you were his. He’d even walk you home, kicking stones in your path the entire time.

The bullying got slightly better in high school but the entitlement got worse.

He wasn’t insufferable with his treatment anymore but by then you’d hated him too much to care. He would purposely piss you off in the most casual ways. He wasn’t bullying you, he was just annoying you. It’s as if he needed you to remember of his existence.

He’d stand too close, stare relentlessly, use your stuff without asking, sit next to you uninvited, shoulder check you in the hallway, trip you, etc. It was such light treatment that you sounded absolutely crazy explaining how much you hated him for it.

You were talking to Mina about it one day and she wasn’t as understanding as you hoped.

“Wait… you think Bakugou is tormenting you because he’s showing interest in you?”

You sighed heavily,

“No, he’s not showing interest in me. Well, he’s always had interest in me… but the only thing he’s interested in is making my life terrible!”

She laughed,

“Maybe he just wants you to give him a chance. You know, he is telling everyone that you’re his wife.”

You spat out your water at that. Somehow you upgraded from girlfriend to fucking WIFE? He was surely trying to ruin your chances at teen romance just because of this stupid unwarranted grudge. You couldn’t let this happen!

You let it happen. You find yourself now, twenty years old, looking back at school with frustration. You never got a boyfriend (At least not one that you agreed to have). You hadn’t even had your first kiss! Even worse, you were still a virgin! Even worse x3, you still saw Bakugou way too often.

Somehow, whenever you were on patrol, he’d pop up. He was aggravating with his words as he followed you down the street. Your speed walking could never live up to his strides. He caught up to you easily, no matter how fast you paced.

“Why were you talking to that creep at the donut shop?”

It was so ridiculous of a question that you couldn’t hold back from answering.

“Because I wanted some fucking donuts. Also, he’s not a creep.”

Bakugou scoffed,

“I saw how he looked at you while he made those creme filled donuts. He was probably thinking about how he wanted to creme stuff my girlfriend too-“

Your face heated as you cut his vulgar comment off.

“If anything, you’re the creep for even insinuating that he was considering that! Also, I’m still not your girlfriend!”

He gave an annoyed sigh,

“When will you stop saying that? ‘I’m not your girlfriend’. We’ve been over this since middle school. You’re also my wife.”

You were too tired for this. You had hardly any sleep last night because of the mountain of reports you procrastinated and you haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. You only had an hour left of your shift before you could go home and power off in your bed. You hoped that you could even drive in this condition.

“Stop following me. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“Watch your step dumb-“

When did you even get on the pavement? And why were you in an alley? Your eyes struggled to stay open as you were dragged up from the concrete.

“What the fuck? When’s the last time you slept?”

You didn’t even have the energy to argue with him. It felt good to lean against him after dragging your feet all day.

“I dunno.”

Everything went blank after that. Now you’ve found yourself in an unknown bed, in the middle of the night. You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life, whether its from the comfortable mattress or the strong arms wrapped around you.

Wait… arms?

You spring up at the realization that you have no idea where you are. You quickly look around to find exits but it’s too dark.

“Fucking relax, its just me.”

Bakugou’s voice, and you just now realize, his smell too. Bakugou grabs you before you can fully jump out of the bed.

“Let go of me!”

“You can whine about this in the morning. I’m tired and I know you’re tired too. Sleep.”

He cradles you in his arms so securely that theres no chance of you getting out. Your panic switches to fatigue at his body heat. The way he begins to play with your hair and the sound of him breathing have you surrendering faster than you’d care to admit. Your eyes flutter shut against Bakugou’s chest.

Maybe you can be your bully’s girlfriend just for tonight.

[sreegs]

You're interviewing as a software engineer and you sit down to begin a coding exercise via remote video chat. Your interviewer joins a minute late. You exchange light pleasantries, then intros. They ask you a few questions relevant to your experience and you answer them satisfactorily.

The interviewer says, "Right, lets move on to the coding exercise," and directs you to a collaborative coding website. You select your language of choice and they begin to describe your problem.

"You have an array of souls recently liberated from their mortal shell, represented by this array of signed floats called "theDead". You must design a function that determines which souls go to heaven and which souls go to hell,"

"Heaven and hell are empty. The cumulative value of all the souls in heaven and hell must both be nonzero, and exactly equal to each other. You may leave any number of souls in purgatory,"

"Your function must return a bool indicating whether the balance of heaven and hell can be met given the array of souls. The count of souls will be 0 < n < 1,000,000. Do you have any questions before you begin?"

[paincaat]

ok so i was going to shitpost about how i cant imagine alastor kissing anyone even if he wanted to cause of his permanent ass smile and i was going to include a crack staticradio visual as a joke and i got too carried away help thiswassupposedtobeastupiddoodle

original post idea for reference of what i was actually going for

maybe its just my aroace ass speaking but i've seen a lot of ship art with alastor in it floating around and my brain physically cannot comprehend how this bambi wannabe mf could ever kiss anyone properly while maintaining his smile??? i swear he'd either have to make the stupidest duck lips or the other person would just be kissing his teeth like he is not built for kissing

alastor might hate this but vox is definitely into it though

edit: holy shit 1k notes thank you guys

just to clarify im aware he can close his mouth and probably could kiss if he wanted to. i also think alastor would try to maintain as big of a smile as possible if he does kiss so it would still look goofy haha. i admittedly wrote this with a bit of influence from my own experience of aroaceness - i can't picture myself wanting to kiss anyone even if i wanted to (im aware it's different for everyone) hence why alastor isn't even trying to do it properly in this post

[allastoredeer]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ WIP WEDNESDAY ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

There was something…off about Lucifer.

Something that wasn’t adding up.

Alastor watched him from a distance. At first it was to get a better read of him, and how long he intended to stay, but the as the days ticked on, an unsettling feeling of wrongness grew in the pit of Alastor's stomach.

It’s the mixer that set off the first alarm.

Lucifer followed through with his promise to get Charlie a meeting with Heaven—now scheduled a few days from then—and he and Charlie were in the kitchen cooking up a celebratory meal.

Alastor hid in the shadows, watching the two bubbling personalities with growing boredom.

“Oh, wow, it’s been a while since I’ve been in here,” Lucifer said, wandering around the kitchen as Charlie pulled appliances out of cupboards and ingredients out of the pantry.

“Yeah, Vaggie and I rearranged a lot of the hotel. To make it new and refreshing, you know?”

Lucifer nodded, as if he understood exactly what she meant. “Well, you’ll have to show me where everything is, I guess,” he laughed, opening a few cupboards. “Because I have no idea where that blasted mixer is. I could’ve sworn it was in here.”

“I’ll grab it, let me just—oh, hold on,” she pulled her phone from her back pocket as it started ringing. “It’s Vaggie. She’s out running errands. Do you mind if I?” She gestured to the door.

“Oh, go right ahead. I’ll get everything ready in here.”

“Thanks, dad.”

She left and Alastor was prepared to follow her example, as there was hardly anything worth watching in the kitchen, but paused when Lucifer let out a deep, happy sigh and turned, walked to a cupboard across the room, and pulled out the mixer.

Alastor frowned.

But it could’ve just been a lucky guessed, he reasoned as Lucifer plugged the appliance into the wall, humming a jaunty circus tune to himself. But then Lucifer opened a drawer close by, grabbed a wire whisk, then hopped a few shelves over for a mixing bowl. The squirm in Alastor’s gut tightened.

For someone who hadn’t been there in centuries, he sure knew his way around.

Still, that wasn’t too strange. Lucifer was an immortal being. A few centuries was probably little more than a week for him. Who could say how his memory matched?

Except…

Didn’t Charlie say she and Vaggie rearranged everything?

His magic, Alastor decided. Divine powers of an angel, and all of that. Surely that would cover finding basic kitchenware.

But even that explanation felt a bit…off.

Something about it wasn’t right.

It was Lucifer’s confidence. The way he strode from cupboard to cupboard without a lick of hesitation or a hint of doubt. No fumbling, no second guessing, no pulling out the wrong drawer, even on accident.

Still hidden, Alastor inched closer, to get a better look.

That’s when Lucifer turned his head and looked at him.

For a split-second, when those red slitted eyes met his, Alastor thought he’d accidentally stepped out of the shadows, because all of the sudden, Lucifer's smile was gone, his humming dropped, and the cadence around him became tangibly colder. Alastor checked himself but, no, he was still hidden. Still covered in shadows in the corner of the kitchen, where the lights weren’t far enough to give away his hiding spot.

But Lucifer didn’t look away. He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t blinking. It didn’t even look like he was breathing.

There weren’t many things in Hell that unsettled Alastor anymore. He’d encountered demons without eyelids, ones who seemed to disappeared when they stopped moving, plenty who didn’t need to breath or eat for days on end.

Lucifer was hardly the strangest, or scariest, thing he’s seen, and yet…

He slowly cocked his head and took a step around the counter. Alastor’s heart jumped. Lucifer still hadn't broken eye contact. He walked slowly, not like he was scared or nervous, but careful and quiet, like a predator stalking through bushes. Trying not to startle its victim.

Alastor figured he may as well step out of the shadows, seeing how his presence was obviously known. Or he could simply leave. Just meld into the darkness and return to the parlor to see if anything interesting was going on at the bar.

But he couldn’t, for the life of him, move.

His body refused to. His lungs held his breath captive in his chest. His heart thumped harder with growing unease.

Deep in the recesses of his mind, a small, intrinsic voice told him to stay still. To keep eye contact. So certain that if the moved, if he took his eyes off of Lucifer for one second, he wouldn’t be fast enough to see him a second time. Before it was too late.

The closer he got, the louder that voice became, until Alastor didn’t feel like he was controlling the shadows so much as the shadows were holding him in place. He was trapped, completely and utterly, and he could. Not. Look. Away.

Lucifer was only a few feet away when the doors flung open and Charlie bounded inside, hauling a load of groceries with Vaggie close behind. His change was immediate.

The air warmed, his dark demeanor disappeared and a wide, happy smile lit up his face. He whirled around. “Char-Char, welcome back! I think I found just about everything.”

“Oh, wow, you did,” Charlie said, looking over the counter. “It wasn’t too much of a hassle, was it?”

“Ah, not at all, kiddo. I found may way around. Ready to get started?”

“Yes! Here, Vaggie got the rest of the things we needed.”

Lucifer walked to her with a pep in his step, but as he rounded the counter, he looked at Alastor again, face impassive and cold, and suddenly Alastor was being thrust away. He stumbled out of the shadows on the third floor, knocking into a hall table that nearly took him off his feet. He clutched it, barely keeping himself from hitting the floor.

He stared at the wall, stunned.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

I've mentioned that I've wanted to write a dark!Lucifer fic and I got an Anon a while back asking how I would go about writing that.

Well, here's a little piece.

[urghblergh]

I finally watched "Our Man Bashir" and did like the outfits and the shooting at each other, so I drew this. ✨

Also inspired by this brilliant fanfiction and the very interesting headcanon concerning Cardassians and dancing mentioned in there. 👁️🔥

Reference

[zethsmo]

doooooodlleeeee from last night

[coffeeworldsasaki]

The fact that I find testing harder to do than the main code is vaguely insane to me

[clodcakes]

Had something planned for Halloween but the sickness took me instead so, more pieces of a bigger project 🤲

[kagaintheskywithdiamonds]

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face @thefallenangel2008 @ravmycupine

just wanted to add some thoughts to the memory vial/brain dead au (or whatever we're calling it)

because of course ford's guilt about using the memory gun on stan is so much worse than it is in canon, not just for the obvious reasons but also because like

this wasn't the plan

Stan agreed to have his memories erased—of course he did, the whole thing was his idea. But he didn't know he was going to die. Granted, I feel like Stan probably still would've been willing to make that sacrifice if he had known that. But I don't think Ford would've.

Ford just thought he was turning his brother into an amnesiac, and even then he almost couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. And of course he knew it was going to hurt, having Stan look at him like he's a stranger, but at least that's the outcome he was preparing himself for.

He was not prepared to see Stan's body topple over on its side, his unblinking eyes staring blankly ahead. Ford rushes to his brother's aid, grabbing him by the shoulders, trying to rouse him, calling his name (except, he wouldn't know his own name anymore, would he?). Stan's not moving. He's not breathing. Oh God, he's not breathing. Ford glances at the memory gun on the ground next to them, and horror washes over him as he realizes what he's done. The gun erased more than just memories, it erased everything. Stan's brain was a floppy drive and Ford was the magnet, wiping it clean and leaving it broken beyond repair.

No, no, this wasn't the plan. Time to call off the con. This wasn't supposed to happen. Stop, cut, abort mission, abort mission!

But it's too late. What's done is done, and he can't take it back.

Oh God, I killed him.

Sobbing now, Ford mutters choked-out apologies, first to Stan's body as he holds him tight—and again at his grave after he's buried. And the apologies start up anew every time he visits.

As the years go on, Ford is haunted by all the what-ifs that might've saved his brother's life. What if he had thought to type "Stanley Pines memories" into the memory gun instead of just "Stanley Pines", would it have kept his essential brain functions intact? Hell, what if he typed in "Bill Cipher"? Would that have been enough to kill the bastard and still let Stanley keep most of his memories and, more importantly, his life?

Ford doesn't know the answer to that question. And he'll never know. Because as much as he longs for it, he'll never have that chance to go back and do it differently.

[carnytaurus]

Dilo Doodle while I wrestle CSP into working on my tablet

[bluebeerg]

heh. i try to speak but nobody can hear .. so i wait around for an answer to appear .. while i'm blah blah blah , yeah of course he'd be into to dear evan hansen

like what is this. are you seeing this. this hurts me. i'll kill you

i drew the skinners and these window, the pains they were, so you get to see them separately - yayyy

[asteraws]

eva chan in drawpile today

[brahmenbones]

Yay!!!! Murder drones!!!!