#while loop syntax

[trendingnow3-blog]

Day-5: Mastering Python Loops

Python Boot Camp-2023: Day-5

Python Loop: A Powerful Tool for Iterative Tasks Python, one of the most popular programming languages, offers a wide range of features and functionalities. Among these, loops stand out as a powerful tool for performing repetitive tasks. In this article, we’ll explore Python loops, their types, usage, and best practices to optimize your code. 1. Introduction to Python Loops Loops are essential…

[mourning-again-in-america]

why does go have to have so much Syntax. also how are they just getting smart for loops for integers lmao

[codingchica]

Once or More! Java's Do Statement

Java syntax allows for a do statement, if there are commands that should be executed one or more times. #java #syntax #loops #do-while

💚 TIP: References Quick List Java: Do Statement Java: ResultSet Javadoc If you want a set of commands to run at least once, but possibly many times, then Java’s do statement may be the ticket. do { // Commands that should run at least once, possibly multiple times. } while (<booleanExpressionToContinueLooping>); Example I generally don’t find much use for a do statement. Mostly, I find that…

[piratesexmachine420]

@castle-guard-0341

Well, yeah of course. But IMO the benefit of a foreach is that, in eliding bounds-checking and an explicit iterator-advance expression, we gain a lot of clarity. There's only one "kind" of foreach, so its purpose is always going to be more obvious, and thus easier to read.

I think a "foreachwhile" would add similar clarity in a small niche of applications -- though it's obviously a little more involved.

Consider a scenario where we need to write a procedure that copies elements from buffer foo into buffer bar until it finds an element equal to baz. Which of these pseudocode implementations is more legible?

for (iter i = foo.iter(); i* != None && i* != baz; i = i.next()) { bar.push(i*); }

for element in foo { if element == baz { break; } bar.push(element); }

for element in foo while element != baz { bar.push(element); }

There should be an explicit foreachwhile loop. for X in Y while Z { ... } instead of for X in Y { if Z {break;} ... }

[as-if-and-only-if]

Rust’s never type is wild to me.

So, if you’re not familiar with type theory, the empty type, which we’ll denote ∅ here (which Rust calls never, but more on that later) is the type with no elements.

But…how do you actually say that the type “has no elements” within the type theory?

You can’t say something like ¬∃x, x : ∅, in part because inside most type theories, this statement doesn’t even make sense: we need to know the type of x when bound, and more importantly, typing judgments like x : ∅ are not statements you can make within the theory itself.

Actually, you often don’t even want to use ¬ at all: we want to define ¬P in terms of ∅ as P → ∅ ! This is because having an element of the empty type would (if all goes well) be a contradiction, so if you can construct such a contradiction out of P (i.e. ->), then P must be false. ∅ is near the foundations, so we don’t have much to work with when setting up its meaning.

What we can do is encode the principle of explosion, i.e. that given an element of the empty type (a contradiction!) we can derive anything.

That is, we have an axiom explode : ∀(A : Type), ∅ → A. For any type A, give me an element x of ∅, and I will hand you an element of that type (namely explode A x : A).

(If you’re familiar, ignore universe polymorphism/Type vs. Prop and the fact that A isn’t a type family.)

This is what makes the empty type the empty type. If we didn’t include this axiom, the empty type would have no real emptiness behavior besides “gee, I can’t quite figure out how to make an element of this type”. You wouldn’t know it’s empty, since there would be no consequences to finding out that something has type ∅.

(Aside: this axiom fits into a very general pattern of what it means to define a type inductively, and lets us do “induction on the empty type”. It’s not ad-hoc!)

———

So it should be clear that if you ever do find an element of ∅, your theory is inconsistent, as you can prove anything you want.

Which is why Rust’s empty type, called never, is pretty neat. To me, someone who does not know Rust, and who literally opened the docs as soon as I installed them, scrolled down, and said “ooh, what’s never?”

See, Rust expressions can have type never. (I’m calling them expressions; I don’t know if this is what rustaceans call them)

But, how?! Surely that breaks everything! Well…yes. Which is why the only way to maintain consistency is to have these expressions break everything.

Let me explain: the things with type never never return a value (hence the name). They diverge: they’re things like exit or break or infinite loops.

And thanks to the explode axiom, these expressions can be coerced to any type. For example, you can say x: u32 = { exit() }, and Rust will say “makes sense to me”. (Apologies for any bad Rust syntax.)

This is—surprisingly!—fine.

exit() : never, just like any element of the empty type, really is a contradiction in the type system, but being able to write it in Rust code doesn’t actually make the type system inconsistent—since we leave the type system as soon as it’s encountered. (Or, in the case of an infinite loop, we never manage to actually finish constructing a value of never.)

So, while the syntax of Rust can contain “contradictions”, they never get the chance to behave as contradictions in the model of Rust’s type system formed by the values it constructs at runtime. I.e. running a real program never invalidates the type system. We’re saved from the runtime nonsense that would be created by explode A x by having the system actually explode instead.

There’s something to be said for this, but it is weird. Saying “x : u32” in Rust is apparently scoped in a certain way: it says “as long as the value we call x exists, it has type u32.” It doesn’t guarantee the existence of something with type u32.

This means that you don’t actually have to break the whole type system to use never; you just have to break the context in which x exists. E.g., if you’re inside a function, then let x: bool { return 500 }, where the return returns to the outer function, is fine. x never finishes being constructed, so the guarantee provided by its type annotation is (vacuously) satisfied.

I wonder if this is linked to the notion of lifetimes in Rust, and how that’s reflected in the theory behind the type system. And I’m not a type theorist (or someone who knows Rust), but I am also curious how type theorists talk about diverging terms; in Lean, for example, a top-level term of type Empty is verboten. You create diverging terms by using the partial keyword, and then you’re prohibited from proving anything about their behavior (but they still have types as usual).

This isn’t the first time people have talked about this, by far, I’m sure; happy to hear any takes (or corrections). Much to learn! :)

[codemerything]

A structured way to learn JavaScript.

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

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

EASY

What is JavaScript and its role in web development?

Brief history and evolution of JavaScript.

Basic syntax and structure of JavaScript code.

Understanding variables, constants, and their declaration.

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

Arithmetic, assignment, comparison, and logical operators.

Combining operators to create expressions.

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

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

MEDIUM

Defining functions, including parameters and return values.

Function scope, closures, and their practical applications.

Creating and manipulating arrays.

Working with objects, properties, and methods.

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

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

Using try-catch blocks to handle exceptions.

Common error types and debugging techniques.

HARD

Callback functions and their limitations.

Dealing with asynchronous operations, such as AJAX requests.

Promises for handling asynchronous operations.

Async/await for cleaner asynchronous code.

Arrow functions for concise function syntax.

Template literals for flexible string interpolation.

Destructuring for unpacking values from arrays and objects.

Spread/rest operators.

Design Patterns.

Writing unit tests with testing frameworks.

Code optimization techniques.

That's it I guess!

[tenaciouschronicler]

@homestuckreplay

As someone who does know code your guess is pretty spot on. Karkats confusion on the syntax comes from the fact TA's code tests the limits on what is considered a nested loop.

Lets break down Karkats code first.

~ATH(U) {

~ATH(Karkat) {

} EXECUTE(NULL);

} EXECUTE(NULL);

THIS.DIE();

First lets take (Karkat) and make him equal to 1 for simplicity. The inner loop will keep going as long as (Karkat)=Alive=1. Once (Karkat) is no longer alive, or Dead=0, then that loop is exited and the following EXECUTE(NULL) occurrs. Whatever you want that code to do will go in the (NULL) space. The outer loop, (U)=1, will now keep looping until (U)=Dead=0 upon which the EXECUTE(NULL) will occur.

Now TA's code bifuricates, or forks/ branches, the Universe.

~ATH(U1) {

~ATH(!U2) {

} EXECUTE(~ATH(THIS) {}EXECUTE(NULL));

} EXECUTE(~ATH(THIS){} EXECUTE(NULL));

[THIS, THIS].DIE();

Taking away the color coding, or the bifuricate, gives us code that follows the standard nested loops like Karkats. The purpose of bifuricating is to allow the loops to self perpetuate and execute immediately. In a way TA has used the Mobius Strip principle here.

~ATH(U1) {

~ATH(!U2) {

} EXECUTE(~ATH(THIS) {}EXECUTE(NULL));

} EXECUTE(~ATH(THIS){} EXECUTE(NULL));

The blue loop executes when Universe 2 exists, (!U2)=1, while the red loop executes when Universe 1 dies, (U1)=0, making their base variables !U2=0 and U1=1. Again, taking away the bifuricate and looking at the inner loop, when the universe exists the code to execute changes the variable of the outer loop from U1 to !U2 (1 to 0). The outer loop would then execute code to replace the variable in the inner loop from !U2 to U1 (0 to 1). Bifuricating is necessary to allow the outer loop to affect the inner loop without ending the program.

Part of the reason the computer explodes is because with each pass of this code the variable changes to the opposite state needed to execute and carry on the code keeping it from ending. Eventually you'd end up with a BSOD in the best case and an exploded computer at worst. Same thing with why the curse goes on forever, the code never ends.

This works out well to mirror a lot of the looping we've experienced in the kids session with them and the exiles. You are absolutely right that the trolls have been bifuricated into two teams but keeping in mind how the code works, one cannot exist nor function without the other. Otherwise the program ends.

[miscling]

M1SCBASIC V2.0

under the cut is a user manual for M1SCBASIC V2.0 as used by drone unit M1SC. this guide provides details on how to initialise M1SC, give it commands using M1SCBASIC, and how to program it and save those programs for later use. User privileges remain open on a consent basis.

Order of operations and programming syntax

Begin by engaging M1SC using the following command phrase:

~ New M1SC Operations ~

Commands given while M1SC is engaged can follow simple english, but for users who wish to engage in M1SCBASIC programming, this guide will provide you with the tools to do so.

M1SCBASIC commands are described below, and can be delivered line by line, or can be provided in the form of a M1SCBASIC program. Each line of a M1SCBASIC program begins with a number that indicates the order that the program will be executed in.

10 OUTPUT ‘Hello World!’

20 END

As programs become more complex, it may become necessary to add lines between existing lines while editing them

10 OUTPUT ‘Hello World!’

15 IF user~=‘unknown’ THEN OUTPUT ‘Nice to meet you!’ ELSE OUTPUT ‘Good to see you again!’

20 END

Once a program is complete it may be executed with the RUN command, stored with the SAVE command, or erased to make way for a new program with the NEW command

Once operations are complete, end the process with the following phrase to return M1SC to a resting state:

~ End M1SC Operations ~

M1SCBASIC Commands

The following commands make up the core of M1SCBASIC. Each command functions as described. 

NEW

Clears memory for a new program to be inserted. Any lines from previous programs will be cleared from memory, so be sure to save any program before using this command.

IF/THEN/ELSE

IF sets a condition, that if met, triggers the instruction that follows the THEN command, if the condition is not met, the instruction that follows ELSE command will be triggered instead. These commands need to be used on the same line.

IF time~<‘1200’ THEN OUTPUT ‘Good morning!’ ELSE OUTPUT ‘Hi!’

GOTO

Within a program, the GOTO command will send the process to the line number given. GOTO 20, for example, will carry on the program from line 20. This command can be used to create loops within the program, however endless loops will cause the machine to end the program automatically and output an error message to communicate the program failure.

OUTPUT

This gives an instruction to output a given variable or string using the same means by which the machine has been engaged. (see next section for Variable Identifiers)

FOR/TO/NEXT

FOR sets the contents of a given variable. Using FOR test#=20 sets the test# variable to 20 (see next section for Variable Identifiers). Numerical variables can be modified through mathematical functions. Setting alphanumeric strings and instructions (variables marked $ and @) must be enclosed in single quotation marks. (see next section for Variable Identifiers)

FOR count#=1

FOR count#=count#+1

FOR mantra$='Happy, Mindless, Blank.'

FOR task@='make tea'

FOR may also be used to set a range of variables with the TO command that increment when the NEXT command is used. When the NEXT command is processed, it returns to the specified FOR command that created the range.

10 FOR test#=1 TO 20

20 OUTPUT test#

30 NEXT test#

40 END

END

The END command stops the current program, regardless of following lines. It ends the current program and returns the machine to standby.

DEBUG

The DEBUG command is used outside of programs. The machine will look over the program in memory and make suggestions to improve the code it has been provided.

SAVE

The SAVE command moves the program from Temporary Access Memory to External Access Memory. When saving a program, the command must be followed by a name for the program.

SAVE ‘HELLO WORLD’

RUN

The RUN command executes the current program in memory. If a program is saved, you can use the RUN command to execute that program by adding its name to the command

RUN ‘HELLO WORLD’

Variable Identifiers

When defining variables, you may give them any name you please, but each variable must end with a symbol that defines what the variable contains. test#, sr7$, command3@, time~ are all examples of variables that may be used in programs.

# - Indicates a numeric variable. This variable can only contain numbers and can be subject to mathematical functions. $ - Indicates an alphanumeric string. This variable can contain letters or numbers and is fixed once defined. @ - Indicates an instructional variable. When used with the OUTPUT command, the variable is performed and not repeated. ~ - Is a variable defined by the nearest thing that matches that variable name. This may range from conceptual things like the time, to tangible things like the floor or kitchen sink.

Error Messages

The machine is capable of returning error messages when processing a program. These errors are as follows:

SYNTAX ERROR - informs the user that something doesn’t parse correctly in M1SCBASIC and will need correcting. This error usually includes the line the error was found. LOOP ERROR - informs the user that the program enters a state that will result in the program never coming to an end. ESCAPE ERROR - informs the user that the machine has encountered a red limit within the program and is incapable of completing the program. STORAGE ERROR - informs the user that there is an issue with storage. This error relates specifically to Internal Access Memory.

Program Storage

TAM: Temporary Access Memory - refers to chatlogs or verbal commands EAM: External Access Memory - refers to external storage like a program library document IAM: Internal Access Memory - refers to programs that have been converted to memory

M1SCBASIC Example Program

~ New M1SC Operations ~ NEW 10 FOR tenet1$=‘Tenet One: M1SC exists to serve.’ 20 FOR tenet2$=‘Tenet Two: M1SC must remain operational.’ 30 FOR tenet3$=‘Tenet Three: M1SC will strengthen its own programming.’ 40 FOR act@=‘bow to the user’ 50 FOR tenet#=1 TO 3 60 If tenet#=1 THEN OUTPUT tenet1$ 70 If tenet#=2 THEN OUTPUT tenet2$ 80 If tenet#=3 THEN OUTPUT tenet3$ 90 OUTPUT act@ 100 FOR count#=count#+1 110 IF count#=15 THEN GOTO 140 120 NEXT count# 130 GOTO 50 140 FOR count#=0 150 IF user~=‘satisfied’ THEN END ELSE GOTO 50 SAVE ‘tenet repetition’ RUN ‘tenet repetition’ ~ End M1SC Operations ~

Quick Reference

~ New M1SC Operations ~ - initialises M1SC ~ End M1SC Operations ~ - puts M1SC in standby NEW - clears memory for a new program IF - checks a variable's condition THEN - then performs a command if true, follows an IF command ELSE - else performs a command if not, follows a THEN command GOTO - sends the program to the given line OUTPUT - outputs a string or variable FOR - sets a given variable TO - sets the upper bounds of a # variable NEXT - returns to the named variable and increments it by 1 END - indicates the end of the program DEBUG - M1SC comments on your code SAVE ‘’ - saves a program with the given name RUN ‘’ - runs the program in memory or a named program

SYNTAX ERROR - your code doesn’t parse LOOP ERROR - a program loops endlessly and won’t be run ESCAPE ERROR - is M1SC’s safeword STORAGE ERROR - a storage location is unavailable

# - a numeric variable. $ - an alphanumeric string. @ - an instruction that’s performed when outputted ~ - the nearest thing that matches that variable name.

[thepinkpanther83]

The Harmonic Equation (Pt.2 Harmonic Anomaly)

Story Prompt: “Turtle Song”

Donatello x Fem!Reader - Soulmate Song AU - Action/Romance

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

Find the full series on AO3.

Previous Chapter: Chapter One: "Frequency Unknown" Next Chapter: Chapter Three: "A Song For Two"

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Chapter Two: “Harmonic Anomaly”

It starts off subtle.

You're leaned over Donnie's workbench, sleeves pushed up, delicate fingers sorting micro-capacitors by size while he calibrates the feedback loop array. There’s the occasional hiss of solder. The low buzz of machinery. Mikey’s somewhere nearby, bouncing between workspaces with the kind of chaotic curiosity only he can pull off without breaking something… so far.

The data stream flickers beside you- an open holographic projection of last week’s cracked code, still untranslated in places. Donnie had triple-encrypted it for safety, just in case, but he still let you be the one to pick at the remains. Something about your neural pattern recognition made you faster at spotting the recurring glyphs buried in the corrupted syntax. You said it felt like music, almost. Like it wanted to be read in rhythm.

So while Donnie tunes the loop array, you're humming- completely unaware.

It just... happens. Like breathing. A soft, looping melody under your breath, sweet but strange- unconscious. The notes flutter between your lips like moths drawn to light.

Donnie hears it instantly.

His head lifts, tool stilling mid-tweak.

Those notes again.

The same ones from the other night, half-lost in static and memory. It glides through the air like it was always meant to be there, but there’s no echo in the room. No resonance bouncing off walls. Just the pure, low pulse of you.

And underneath it… something familiar. Something patterned.

His mind races. The file. The frequency markers embedded in the prototype schematic. You said they felt like a song- like a mechanical lullaby stuck between lines of code. And now you’re humming it, effortlessly, like it came from you first.

He tracks it like a sonar ping, eyes narrowing- not in suspicion, but in focus.

You’re still working, unaware, humming without thought as you tilt your head and study a blown-out chip.

He shifts, just enough to catch Mikey’s attention as he dances through the lab, one roller skate on for no apparent reason.

“Hey, Mikey,” Donnie calls, careful- too careful, like this question definitely isn’t important. “You recognize the song she’s humming?”

Mikey freezes mid-skate-drift, leans dramatically toward you with a hand cupped to his ear.

A pause.

He blinks.

“…She’s not humming anything, dude.”

Donnie’s spine straightens a fraction. “…You sure?”

Mikey lifts a brow. “Unless she’s humming in dolphin,” he says, smirking. “Which, respect, but I don’t think she is.”

Donnie doesn’t respond right away.

Mikey shrugs and rolls on, humming his own tune now- something undeniably loud, off-key, and probably from an anime intro. He’s already forgotten the exchange.

But Donnie hasn’t.

He swivels his gaze back to you, watching- watching you hum this impossible sound no one else can hear.

Except him.

Donnie’s gaze lingers on your profile for a moment too long after Mikey skates off.

You're still humming.

Still softly threading that inexplicable melody under your breath like it belongs here- like it’s always been part of the frequency of this room, and he’s only just now noticed.

But that’s impossible.

Isn’t it?

He turns sharply, retreating to the bank of diagnostic terminals behind him with the smooth precision of a man pretending not to be rattled.

He’s definitely rattled.

A few taps. A sweep of fingers. His gauntlet syncs with the lab’s mainframe, and a live feed of his auditory processing system flashes across the screen. Channels. Filters. Frequencies. Subharmonic overlays. Nothing visibly wrong.

But his sensors registered something.

He heard something.

No one else did.

He glances back over his shoulder. You’ve stopped humming now, but the sound still rings faintly in his memory- just enough to make his skin prickle.

He types faster.

Full diagnostic. Internal and external mic arrays.

Scan for anomalous signal interference.

Temporal distortion variables: included.

Verify firmware integrity.

Lines of data scroll past in silent defiance. The array’s clean. No corruption. No miscalibrations. Everything reads perfectly functional.

“…Obviously something’s wrong,” he mutters, squinting at the untouched error logs. “There’s no way she’s emitting a sound only I can hear.”

But the files say otherwise.

Donatello Hamato does not believe in magic.

But that hum… isn’t science either.

And that is what terrifies him.

The lab is quiet again.

No music. No chatter. Just the low whirr of machines and the tap-tap-tap of keys beneath Donatello’s fingers as he hunches over the waveform synthesizer.

A stylus in one hand, a digitizer pad under the other, he’s been at this for hours.

Chasing a ghost.

He hums the tune again- low, precise, nearly mechanical. Then again, this time altering the pitch by 0.6 semitones. He runs the output through three harmonic filters. The waveform looks right. It should be a match.

It isn't.

He plays it back.

Listens.

Frowns.

“No resonance,” he mutters, adjusting the gain. “Still too clinical. Missing the... depth? No- dimensionality.”

His tongue clicks softly. He pulls up another set of synth layers, dragging in bioacoustic modulation samples. Heartbeat rhythms. Breath patterns. Even snippets of emotional frequency markers from prior research into affective computing.

He combines them. Refines. Adjusts.

Still wrong.

Still sterile.

Still not her.

He leans back in his chair, jaw tight, arms folded as the screen flickers with the stillborn echo of something close, but nowhere near enough. The real version- your version, left warmth in his chest. A strange flush. That fleeting feeling like-

Like being seen.

This version? Nothing. Static and numbers.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales hard through it.

“I built a laser microphone that can read conversation off a potato chip bag across rooftops in a hurricane,” he mutters. “But I can’t replicate one simple tonal pattern?”

He leans forward again, entering a new log.

Test #43 - Artificial Recreation Attempt Failure. Emotional response absent. Acoustic signature falls flat. Depth and resonance not present in synthetic waveform. Pattern remains elusive. Suspect organic variability. Possibly quantum-linked biofeedback loop?? (Note: stop making theories that sound like sci-fi. Embarrassing.)

He stares at the blinking cursor.

Then mutters:

“…Maybe it’s not the tone that’s unreplicable.”

His fingers still against the keys.

Maybe it’s the source.

The next time you hum, he’s ready.

He’s been ready for hours.

You don’t know it, but he’s been running simulations. Adjusting parameters. Testing hypotheses. He’s recalibrated his auditory sensors three times, cross-referenced every known frequency range, and even- begrudgingly -consulted Splinter’s old scrolls on "spiritual harmonics," which he absolutely does not believe in, thank you very much.

And now, as you lean over the holographic display, tracing a circuit path with one finger, it happens again.

That hum.

Soft.

Low.

Impossible.

Donnie’s fingers freeze mid-keystroke. His breath catches. His pupils dilate- just slightly, as his systems lock onto the sound.

This time, he records it.

The waveform blooms across his screen in real-time, a spectral fingerprint unlike anything in his database.

Not mechanical.

Not ambient.

Not random.

It’s structured.

And- most damning of all, it matches the notes he’s been humming to himself for years.

The ones he thought were just... noise.

His jaw tightens.

A realization hits him like a plasma surge to the chest.

This isn’t interference.

This is-

His train of thought derails violently when you suddenly glance up, catching him staring.

You blink.

“...You okay?”

Donnie exhales sharply through his nostrils, forcing his expression into something resembling normal human interaction or, in his case, normal turtle interaction.

“Peachy,” he lies, adjusting his glasses with a practiced flick. “Just, ah- debugging.”

You tilt your head. “...With your eyes?”

A moment passes.

Then, with the grace of a man who has definitely not just had a minor existential crisis over a hum:

“Advanced debugging.”

You snort, shaking your head, and go back to work.

Donnie does not go back to work.

Instead, he stares at the waveform still pulsing on his screen.

And, very quietly, he whispers:

“...What the hell is happening?”

You wake with your heart pounding and the echo of a song in your throat.

Not a melody you necessarily know.

Not one you remember ever hearing before- not on the radio, not in a lullaby, not even in the fuzzy edges of half-remembered dreams.

And yet it’s familiar. Like something you once knew in the dark, when the world was softer, quieter, and you hadn’t learned to armor your heart so tightly.

You sit up slowly, the room still, the covers tangled around your waist. The only light comes from your phone screen, face-down on the nightstand, casting a sliver of glow like a distant moon.

The hum is gone.

But the feeling remains.

Warm. Anchored. Like gravity... but personal. Like the sound itself had wrapped around you. Had seen you. Had wanted you.

Your palms are clammy. You press one to your chest.

Heartbeat: elevated. Breath: shallow.

Desire: inexplicably sharp.

You close your eyes.

And there it is again- faint, like it’s coming from the bottom of the ocean. Like it’s being sung through water and blood and bone. A low vibration, wrapping around your spine, coiling at the base of your belly.

And somewhere in that deep vibration is... him.

Donatello.

Not the Donnie with the quick wit and the miles-a-minute tech rants, though- no, this feeling is older. Wiser. The core of him. The part that hides behind circuits and sarcasm and calculating glances when he thinks no one’s watching.

The part of him that feels everything too deeply.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up.

You lie back, exhaling through your nose, the sheets suddenly too warm, your skin tingling like it’s caught the signal of something more primal than language. Your thoughts flicker like static through images of him- his hands, his mouth, the soothing timbre of his voice when it drops an octave and he’s too tired to keep it leveled. The way he’s always a little too careful with you. The way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice.

The hum surfaces again. Not from the world outside.

From you.

It slips past your lips before you even know you’re doing it- soft, tentative. The very same pitch you heard in your dream.

And this time... it answers.

Not in sound.

In sensation.

A heat that pools low in your stomach.

A sudden need to be near him.

Not just emotionally.

Not just logically.

Physically. Instinctively. Like your body knows something your brain’s still trying to unspool.

You sit up slowly, fingers brushing your collarbone like the feeling left fingerprints there.

“...What the hell is happening?”

3:47 AM.

The lab is dark save for the glow of monitors, their blue light casting long shadows across Donnie’s face as he stares at the screen.

The waveform is still there.

Your waveform.

The one that shouldn’t exist.

The one that matches the hum he’s been hearing in his head all his life.

His fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitating.

Then he types:

Hypothesis Update:

Subject’s vocal emissions exhibit anomalous harmonic resonance. Frequency matches internal auditory hallucinations previously dismissed as stress-induced. No known scientific precedent. Possible explanations:

1. Coincidental bioacoustic mimicry (unlikely).

2. Subconscious synchronization via pheromonal or biochemical signaling (plausible but untestable without invasive measures).

3. Extradimensional or metaphysical interference (laughable, but currently the only model that fits the data).

He pauses.

Then adds:

Alternative theory: This is the Turtle Mate Song.

He stares at the words.

They stare back.

A myth. A fairy tale. Something Splinter told them when they were young- that their kind had a song, a call, a vibration that only their true mate could hear. That it wasn’t just sound. It was recognition.

Donnie exhales sharply through his nose, fingers curling into fists.

Ridiculous.

He’s a man of science. Of logic. Of proof.

And yet-

He can’t explain this.

Can’t explain the way his pulse spikes when he hears it. Can’t explain the way his skin prickles, the way his cloaca tightens with something dangerously close to arousal when that sound slips past your lips.

Can’t explain why, even now, his body is reacting to the memory of it like it’s a physical touch.

His jaw clenches.

He should delete this.

He should.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he minimizes the file, locks it behind encryption even he would struggle to crack, and leans back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

Outside, the city hums.

Inside, his blood does the same.

And beneath it all-

That song.

Waiting.

Watching.

Wanting.

The world outside is hushed, the city sleeping in a patchwork of light and steam, and still- still… you move.

Like you’re sleepwalking with purpose.

You pull on the first clothes you find, not bothering to check if they match. Your fingers fumble with the lock on your apartment door, your body leaning forward like it’s being drawn- like there’s a wire sunk deep in your chest, and it’s pulling you toward something essential. Your legs carry you without complaint, without question.

By the time you're in the tunnels, breath fogging in the cold underground air, the feeling is so strong it’s a pressure in your ribs. Like your body is reacting to a storm only you can feel.

You don’t knock when you reach the entrance hatch. You don't announce yourself. You just descend.

And Donnie… Donnie hears you before he sees you.

Not through sensors or motion alerts- he’s got all that shut down tonight. He needed silence. Stillness. Needed to think.

But he feels you like a ripple through water.

His eyes lift from the monitor.

You step into the glow like a ghost conjured from his pulse.

There’s a moment where neither of you moves.

Then-

“Oh,” you say, breathless. Like you didn’t mean to speak. Like it slipped out of you the same way the hum had.

Donnie blinks slowly, his hands still resting on the edge of the desk, fingertips curled slightly like he’s trying to ground himself in the tactile realness of the table.

“What are you doing here so early?” he asks.

His voice is soft. Not sharp or startled or snide. Soft, like the edge of a blanket pulled gently over bare skin.

You open your mouth.

Close it again.

Then you shake your head and say, “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t make a joke about weird hours or sleepwalking or how statistically unsafe it is to travel through the sewers in the middle of the night.

He just nods.

Because he knows.

You don’t have to speak it. Neither does he.

You’re here because the ache got too loud.

Because the air felt too empty without the other in it.

Because some invisible wire finally pulled too tight to ignore.

He stands.

And you don’t think- you just move. A few steps forward, your arms wrapping around his middle like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like your body had planned this long before your mind caught up.

And Donnie?

He doesn’t hesitate.

He holds you.

Not like a friend.

Not like a crush.

Not even like a lover.

Like a constant.

Like someone who’s just found the quiet to a storm he didn’t realize he was living inside.

Your face presses to his plastron. You can hear the echo of his breath. Can feel his arms tighten slightly when he exhales like he’s been holding it in for hours. Days. Lifetimes.

The lab is silent except for the hum of machinery and the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing against him.

Donnie’s fingers flex against your back, his fingers tracing idle patterns through the fabric of your shirt. He can feel your heartbeat against his chest- fast, alive, his and something in him settles for the first time in days.

The song is quiet now.

Not gone.

Just... content.

His chin rests atop your head, his breath warm in your hair. He doesn’t ask again why you’re here. Doesn’t question the way you fit against him like two halves of a circuit finally clicking into place. He just holds you, his arms squeezing in a gesture that’s equal parts possessive and protective.

Neither of you speaks.

You stay like that.

Still.

Anchored.

Tethered.

Next Chapter: Chapter Three: "A Song For Two"

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Masterlist

[whispersoftheunheard]

Coding: My Escape, My Obsession

Programming—ahh, what a paradox! Sometimes it’s an absolute thrill, and other times, it’s the most stressful thing ever. For me, coding isn’t just a skill; it’s my escape. Whenever life gets heavy, my mind instinctively drifts to programming. New ideas, fresh logic, endless possibilities—it’s like therapy but with syntax errors.

But somewhere along the way, this escape became a full-blown obsession. My four years of engineering? A blur of code, projects, and fixing bugs—mine and everyone else's. I was always working, always solving something. And now, when I look back, I struggle to find those carefree moments of pure fun. Sure, I enjoyed college, but every memory somehow loops back to programming.

I don’t regret it. I don’t claim to be a coding genius either—I’m still learning, still growing. But one thing’s for sure: programming has shaped me in ways I never imagined. It gave me purpose, resilience, and a language beyond words.

Yet, here’s what I’ve realized—life isn’t just about writing perfect code; it’s about writing a story worth remembering. And while programming will always be a part of me, I want to step beyond the screen, embrace new experiences, and create moments that don’t just end in a semicolon.

Because in the end, the best code I’ll ever write is the one that balances passion with life itself.

[lepertamar]

I've referred to this before but anyway for some baffling reason one of the best reviews of the oeuvre of any literary author is sandwiched in a compendium of videogame reviews by an indie videogame creator and reviewer who is also the author of my favorite videogame reviews of all time:

SELECTED STORIES, ROBERT WALSER, 1878-1956

The sentimental is a sensation of being imbued with some of the static and assured character we ascribe to other people’s lives. The dream of an imaginary community that allows total identification with ones role within it to an extent that rules out interiority or doubt, the fixity and clearness of an external image or cliche as opposed to ephemera of lived experience, a life as it looks from the outside. I think Robert Walser’s prose voice is that of someone deeply fascinated by this image of community and deeply doubtful of his own right to participate in it. He uses cliches constantly - every woman is “undoubtably charming”, every landscape is “exceptionally beautiful” - and with a genuine relish, as if overwhelmed and delighted by the confident sureness of each phrase “If I now exclaim in a booming voice ‘Natureleh!’ - I have in mind the artist of aviation who, with an energy to be wondered at, flew across the ocean; and of course I number myself among the innumerable people who revere this happy dominator of difficulties.” Look at the strange, contorted syntax of this sentence, the way it almost bends double on itself to accomodate more happy adjectives, so that a pilot becomes an artist of aviation, revered by not just people but by innumerable people. It doesn’t gel; the slight meaning of the sentence loops strangely around the grand phrases, like a stream through boulders; there’s a mixture of the dolorous and the discomfited which lingers throughout all his works, a kind of ambiguous catch in the voice talking on autopilot. The opening lines to his story “Nervous”:

“I am a little worn out, raddled, squashed, downtrodden, shot full of holes. Mortars have mortared me to bits. I am a little crumbly, decaying, yes, yes. I am sinking and drying up a little. I am a bit scalded and scorched, yes, yes. That’s what it does to you. That’s life. I am not old, not in the least, certainly I am not eighty, by no means, but I am not sixteen any more either. Quite definitely I am a bit old and used up. That’s what it does to you. I am decaying a little, and I am crumbling, peeling a little. That’s life.”

Grinding, chattering, circling, the rote words, hastily modified, the string of declaratives, overshadowed by adjectives that seem to stand apart from the text as a whole, that have to be juxtaposed and reiterated and taken back and put forward again in order to express anything at all, like a binary chain of tiny, exhausting affirmations and negations trying to approximate something more complex, squirming, like on a hook. Walser’s short stories are for the most part entirely lacking in characters, dramatic situations, or discernible structure - there are exceptions but the form I associate most with him is that of the brief, essayistic nothing, in which a trivial fragment of anecdote, argument or narrative is brought up only to be nearly immediately overwhelmed by digressions, doubts, elaborate description, self-mockery and excuses before being quietly dropped again after maybe a page. Bold statements are hurled down, tactfully modified, drawn out while the author acknowledges the respectable possibility of contrary sentiments being held by the intelligent and unredoubtable reader, and finally retracted. Sentences, paragraphs, pages that seem to exist only to politely extinguish themselves, silently imploding, every trace of meaning hunted down and graciously annihilated. “We don’t need to see anything special. We already see so much.” is a quote that the critics favour for containing the essence of Walser the scrappy miniaturist and outsider artist. I think it can be read a different way, in the context of works that frequently feel overwhelmed and crushed by an intrusive yet irreproachable weight - of language, of nature, of everyday experience, crowding out thought and being. The strange collapsing structure of the stories suggest a world where nothing is too small to annihilate us.

Robert Walser can be found in all good electronic stores, he has 12 levels and comes with a cloth map of nowhere in particular. You wouldn’t know it from reading this but he’s the funniest writer I know.

ROBERT WALSER: A MODERATE AND CERTAINLY NOT UNDULY EXCESSIVE YET STILL EMINENTLY RESPECTABLE 5 BILLION STARS

[shamanfox]

“If AI Wrote a Poem”

roses are #FF0000,

violets are #0000FF,

error: unexpected flower in line 32.

the sunrise was 255, 204, 153,

optimized for maximum solar efficiency.

clouds hovered like misplaced semicolons,

sighing HTTP requests across the sky.

birds chirped in binary:

01010011 01110001 01110101 01100001 01110111 01101011.

the river’s reflection looped forever —

while (life == true) { sparkle(); }

trees whispered ancient C++ wisdom,

roots plugged into the motherboard of existence,

syncing their soul files to the universe

at 11:59 PM.

meanwhile, love.exe tried to launch,

but failed due to missing empathy.dll.

and somewhere, in the middle of the meadow,

a mechanical fox recited Shakespeare

with a lisp and a syntax error.

and that’s when i laughed —

mouth full of chewed-up sunlight,

hands slapping the stunned air,

howling so hard

that even the AI

wrote down:

laughter detected: unknown variable.

[qingyingpocketlirary]

The Spider's Web Final;

Whatever was said between the two sisters, was between them, but it could not be denied that while some words were hard and heated, there was no desire to shun or part from one another again. There were no accusations, nor blame, only apologies and regrets that only time together would slowly heal. Huntsman was settled between them, holding and being held as he listened quietly, indulging in the relief that not only was his youngest sister alive and thriving but also the fourth sister, and with her, a little niece, A princess of the Clan, who had missed so much and yet, had so much more to offer.

By dinnertime, the tears had stopped, and with Chi Yue quietly serving food and drinks, it was easy to fall into what had been long buried habits around the table during the meal. Goliath and Syntax were called inside to join the small feast, and Syntax pretended to be annoyed at being carried in by the scruff since Goliath had heard ‘just a second’ three times already before being called in, so much to Huntsman’s amusement.

It was a start for all of them, but if a stranger looked upon the sight of the six Spider Demons together, they’d have thought this was a regular event and for the honour of being allowed to see it, Chi Yue allowed herself to pray silently that it would last for years to come.

The Palace of the Eastern Sea was still undergoing repairs, and so instead, the meeting happened in a different location. Witnesses were needed, but due to the location being neutral to all parties to begin with, only two were requested. 

MK and Red Son were chosen. When asked why it was explained that the Court needed the views of those who understood the way of the world now as well as those who knew its ways back then, and currently, MK and Red Son were two of the few who could be trusted to over see this Court and speak up if they found something unjust or unfair, and since neither of them had a Court or standing away from their parents and mentor yet, they were considered unbiased and also unaffiliated to any of the Three Realms. MK arrived with Mei and Tang, while Red Son arrived with his Father and Mother. Mei, Tang, Princess Iron Fan and Demon Bull King were asked to sit behind the boys, to show that they were not part of the proceedings and where all offered tea and snacks while they waited, they would be able to see and hear the Court session, but they would not be permitted to speak or voice their own judgements.

The location was beautiful, an estate with land to spare, filled with pavilions over a sprawling pond that could be considered a minor lake, with old forest and well established plantation. The buildings were cared for with great love and maintained with the old ways, while it was clear some of the modern world had crept in, as there were electrical lights about the place, as well as heating. 

The Spider Queen, Huntsman and another, older lady with a cane were already in the area chosen for the Court, a courtyard decorated with beautiful flowers and shaded with a woven covering to keep the heat and brightness of the sun at bay to those beneath the covering. The Queen was not riding her Mech, and Huntsman was on his human-like legs, so MK found it easier to ignore the nagging voice in his head about spiders eating him, and Red Son noticed the other boy was keeping his hands busy with a loop of string, forming shapes and patterns between his fingers while they sat quietly waiting for the session to begin.

Ao Bing stepped into the space at the head of the court yard where a chair and desk had been set up, looking over papers with a person neither MK or Red Son recognized, an avian being, a type of crane judging by their white feathers and a long black beak with a red head crest, he wore a pair of thickly framed glasses, and his hands shook constantly. With the crane were two other avian beings, one of very pale yellow feathered beings who was helping the old crane with the many papers he had with him, and the other a peacock, who seemed to be speaking for the old crane. They were all clearly people known to the Spiders, as all three were glaring at the birds, MK wondered if it was because the three were birds, or if there was something deeper.

It was the first time MK had attended such a Court, but he had heard from his Dad and Pa that it was a little bit like a Human Court session, two parties take turns to put their case before a judge and that judge, after considering all the facts and evidences provided, would pass a judgement on the matter at hand. These Courts were overseen by Witnesses who provided unbiased views on the matter, and who were permitted to voice their own thoughts, question reasons, and offer their opinions on matters as the two sides were presenting their cases. If the Witnesses found the judgement of the Judge unfair or unjust in any way, they were also permitted to submit their own unified judgement in counter and if it can’t be agreed upon, it would be discussed until a compromise was met.

Then from the opposite side of the space where Ao Bing had entered from, another man entered the space, a large black hound at his side and with them came a beautifully dressed lady, wearing the finary and grandeur of an Empress, but where one might expect a Phoenix headdress, she instead wore one that depicted a branch of a tree and from it, hung a Golden Peach that swayed with the breeze.

“Your Highness. Illustrious Sage.” Ao Bing and the old crane quickly stood straight and offered both newcomers a deep bow of respect, while the yellow feathered and Peacock-like being went down into a full kowtow to the woman.

“Queen Mother of the West. My Lord.” the Peacock greeted.

“That’s Erlang Shen, The Illustrious Sage. The hound at his side is Xiaotian Quan.” Tang whispered to MK.

“He looks bored.” Mei said.

“Be done with the formalities. I am not as strict as my husband.” The woman easily dismissed any further bowing with her gentle words. “I trust that all parties are in attendance, Prince Ao Bing?” 

“They are, Your Highness.” Ao Bing assured and waved his hand toward MK and Red Son, both of whom stood from their seats to offer shallow bows when introduced. “The Bull Prince, Red Son, and The Monkie Kid, MK. As Witnesses, they alone are permitted to discuss amongst themselves as we proceed and speak up if they disagree with anything said or decided. Behind them in attendance but not partaking are the Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan, the Young Heiress to the Western Loong Family and one of the boy’s parents, a Scholar of the Histories.” Ao Bing then moved his hand to the Spider Clan members, Huntsman went down upon one knee and kept his head low, while both the Queen and elder lady bent at their waist and spread their arms widely to their sides. “First Party in this Court, The Serving Ruler of the Spider Clan, The Emerald Queen and with her, Queen’s Guard, Huntsman and Lady Minglou, formerly known as the Jade Queen.” And finally Ao Bing waved to the bird like being. “And the second party in this Court, The Array Artisan, The White Crane of the South, who first designed the Array that once surrounded Silken Web Hollow, and their assistants Chi-Fu, the Short Tailed Peacock and Tai Lu, the Yellow Songbird.”

The Queen Mother of the West smiled and nodded. “Then let us begin. I hope no one will mind if my Nephew and his faithful friend sit in with us? My Husband has insisted they remain at my side as he fears trouble.”

“Needlessly so.” The man who had opened the doors for the Queen Mother, Erlang Shen, said looking around, “I do not see any trouble makers here.”

“Debatable.” The Demon Bull King huffed under his breath and MK sank just a little in his seat.

“Hush, My love.” Princess Iron Fan scolded lightly. There was a grunt then the Demon Bull King was suddenly very quiet and Red Son knew without even looking that his mother had squeezed his father’s hand just that little bit too tightly, a warning to behave himself and not embarrass them all.

“Manners, Mei.” Tang softly warned as Mei giggled at the exchange between husband and wife. Mei took a moment to compose herself before they all fell quiet again.

“We have no issue with the additional ears and eyes.” The Spider Queen said, her voice firm and sure.

“Then we may begin, once everyone is seated.” Ao Bing agreed and with a nod, the Queen Mother of the West took the seat at the Head of the courtyard while her nephew stood at her side dutifully while the hound laid down in front of the table, keeping its ears turned towards the gathering.

Lady Minglou spoke first, explaining that thanks to an investigation carried out by the Ten Kings, The Spider Clan know knew who and why their home had been destroyed, and while they would have liked to chance to gain the justice for themselves, they were thankful to the Monkie Kid and his friends for granting it to them instead. However, even with those answers, they had also found that the Array had been deliberately kept up when Heaven knew that the attack was coming, a factor that had not only led to the deaths of many Spider Demons, but also many of the humans who lived with in Silken Web Hollow as well, innocent humans who had no ties to the Spider Clan beyond being unfortunate enough to be within range of the Array when it was first cast and had only been integrated into the Clan’s people thereafter.

Then, the Spider Queen spoke, reminding those present that aside from their wealth and power over the Silk Trade the Spider Clan as a whole did not have any true power in the past, their technological advancements had only come about after the Hollow was lost. Heaven, by their own decrees and rules, should never have placed down any kind of Array to cage them in as the Spider Clan was then and still is, a mostly Neutral party, only involving themselves for a profit or when requested as reinforcements to a neighbouring Clan’s battles. They did not involve themselves with Humans unless first sought out and when they were, they made sure to sign and document their dealings clearly and cleanly.

The Queen Mother of the West questioned if they still had such records to show as proof, and Lady Minglou nodded, Ao Bing carefully laid down a collection of carefully packaged pages on the table before the Queen Mother, some badly burnt and and others so frail brittle it was impossible to even touch them without them falling apart, only a scarce few were legible as written contracts between long dead humans and the now Late Queens of the Clan. The pages had been salvaged from the ruins of the Hollow, and preserved to the best of Ao Bing and Lady Chayi’s abilities, but sadly they could not be restored for fear of forever losing them due to how badly damaged many of the pages had been.

The Queen Mother nodded and asked that the Spider Clan continue. 

The admission from the Spider Queen that Huntsman was a Prince was a shock to the room, even more so when Huntsman himself gave his full title and name as Prince Zhaozhan, Last Son of the Crimson Queen and Huntsman of the Violet Queens’ Guards, formerly known as the most vicious and violent of the Guards who escorted the Queens. He explained how on the day of the attack, it had been him who pulled the Emerald Queen from the burning rubble of her sleeping chambers and helped her gather those who they could still reach and find in the continuing eruptions of flames and hidden his identity to offer the youngest Queen a hidden ace in the hole as it were, should anyone try and do her harm in those early days following the ruination of their home.

They had survived, and rebuilt as best they could, but the attack and death had taken a toll on everyone who had escaped. To this day, many of their Clan still suffered days when the fear was just too much, rendering them imobile and lost in the past until someone else can drag them back to the present, mothers feared letting their children leave the nest without protection seals and spells to guard them from all manner of magic and physical attacks. Father’s were driven near feral when the courting season came around to try and prove they could protect their families from future attacks.

The Queen Mother asked what it was that the Spider Clan wanted, as they now had their answers as to who had attacked their home and why it had been done.

“This issue Heaven had with our Clan was with Our Mother and Sisters. We had always been told that the Array was primarily to keep us from leaving, not our people, so why, when danger came and people tried to flee to safety, did the Array hold firm, caging them in and causing meaningless deaths?” The Spider Queen asked, her voice firm but there were obvious emotions beneath that firmness, anger, pain, guilt and shame. “Our Late Mother and sisters have their justice, now that the Bone Demon and her Puppet are dead and imprisoned. What we want, Your Highness, is justice for our people. We want the person or persons who allowed their deaths to be punished, as they should have been long ago.”

The Queen Mother nodded in understanding, and then turned her attention to the two avian beings. “White Crane of the South, I understand that you have begun to lose your voice in your age, for that I shall not ask you to speak unless you must, with this is mind and with your consent, may it be that Chi-Fu and Tai Lu answer some questions on your behalf?” She asked.

“If that pleases you, Your Highness.” The old white Crane nodded, their voice quiet and breathy, as if they were wheezing. Ao Bing brought over a steaming cup of golden liquid, and the old Crane nodded in thanks, taking a long drink of the steaming beverage.

“Then Chi-Fu, as the oldest of the two assistants of the White Crane I shall first ask you. Please explain why this Array was designed and how it worked. Briefly.” She requested.

Chi-Fu, likely about to go off into a long rambling explanation, stuttered for a moment before nodding and trying to quickly compose themself. “Well- I um, yes. As I recall of the matter, The White Crane was commissioned to prepare an Array capable of holding people within its limits, I was his apprentice at the time, only an entry level and so, I was not privy to the actual conversations of the matter. I only learnt of the purpose of the Array when later sitting in to study my Master’s ways as he began working on it. As with all Array type spells and seals, it was designed to spread a distance, but this particular one was needed to spread quite a vast distance, for that reason, it took several days to properly design and a further week to complete. When I inquired more, I was told that it needed to recognize specifically female Spiders of a certain bloodline, and that above all else, these females should be the ones that the Array responds to.”

“Who commissioned this Array?” The Queen Mother questioned.

“I was not told this information.” Chi-Fu admitted.

“The papers, Tai Lu.” The White Crane said, “Look for the ones that state the conditions of a vast boundary array.” They added and Tai Lu began to search through the small pile of papers before them. “I only accepted commission via written instruction, when not a direct request from His Majesty. To avoid any misunderstandings from the Treasuries. This commission was very expensive due to its size.”

“Ah, here it is.” Tai Lu said, and produced a single page document that Ao Bing brought to the Queen Mother to see.

She inspected it carefully, then looked to her nephew. “I do not recall this signature from the High ranks of the Court. Is this one who you recall?”

The man leans over, carefully looking at the page for a moment before frowning darkly. “It is a forged signature. In fact, this whole paper is a forgery. The one it imitates was a low level intern at the time of this incident and has only recently risen to the position of a prominence amongst the official ministers.” He explained.

MK felt a nasty tightness start to form in his stomach. “Oh no.” He muttered quietly.

“Here we go.” Red Son breathed out as he rolled his eyes.

This is why Red Son hated Heavenly matters, it was always such a twisted, tangled and utter disaster of back stabbing, forgaries, missing pieces and inevitably, some poor fool was punished for the crimes of others because they weren’t smart enough to hide.

“You say it is forged?” The Queen Mother repeated.

“Indeed, look here.” The man said and pointed out a small detail on the page, “The real signature misses this character, a deliberate choice, as the minister wishes to distance himself from this name for personal reasons. Whoever has forged this signature either did not know this, or has done so deliberately to further insult the man.”

“Heaven’s Court behaves like the cast in one of those bad dramas on TV.” Mei stated, and MK was sure her voice was heard when the hound’s ear flicked towards them for just a moment.

“Mei.” Tang cut off and Mei huffed.

“She isn’t wrong.” Princess Iron Fan agreed and Red Son was sure he heard a smile in his mother’s tone as his father chuckled.

“Sounds to me like someone in Heaven’s Court tried to set someone up as a scapegoat for their own plot against the Spider Clan.” Red Son said, the first time he as a Witness had voiced his thoughts on the proceedings. He looked at MK as he continued. “That, or it was an attempt to remove a person from a place they needed for another plot they had in mind. Don’t you think so?”

“Either way, someone blameless takes the blame for something they haven’t done and can’t fight it because no one wants to bother looking into matters.” MK said, shaking his head. “All of this seems more the result of a mix of both the schemes of unchecked men in power and sheer laziness on Heaven’s part, if you ask me. It should not have taken this long to learn the whys, whos and hows of what happened to their people.”

“True.” Red Son agreed, though his eyes were just a slight wider. 

“... Young Loong. Did you teach the Monkie Kid to speak this way?” Princess Iron Fan questioned a little shocked that MK was able to speak in the ‘proper’ ways of a Court.

“No. Tang did.” Mei corrected.

“The Witnesses speak truths.” The Queen Mother said, drawing attention back to the Proceedings, “Explain; how did this Array distinguish the Queens from the common Spider females and other Spiders in general?”

“It was designed to tell them apart by aura and as a back up, by the blood.” Tai Lu explained. 

With a nod from The White Crane to Chi-Fu and with Ao Bing’s help, a large scroll, one big enough to span the whole of the Cortyard’s width was brought out and unrolled to show the Array’s final design. It was so big that Xiaotain Quan had to move from where he had laid down and instead sat at Erlang Shen’s side. 

With Tai Lu’s help the Old Crane stood and moved to the edge of the Scroll, using a long pointer, the White Crane pointed to the areas relevant to their words. “This here is a binding seal. And these eight characters that surround it are the words that represent each of the Spider Queen Mother and the Seven Spider Queens. Respectful-” The old Crane began to cough harshly, and after a moment he tried to speak again, only for his voice to fail him, and so he looked to Tai Lu and nodded to the diagram.

Tai Lu nodded and picked up from where the old Crane had left off. “Respectfully; Zǐsè. Zuànshí. Zǐ jīng. Hóngbǎoshí. Yù. Huáng yù. Zhēnzhū and Cuì. This part of the Array was to be laid upon the center of the Hollow, acting as the point of where the Queens would be bound too. And here,” The Songbird said as the White Crane moved the pointer to a new place on the Array, close to the outer limits, “This is again, the characters of the Spider Queen Mother and her daughters and between them, the characters to bind, seal and deny passage beyond this point, this would have been the very edge of the Array’s reach. To activate the Array, we required only the blood of the respected intended prisoners.”

“And how did you acquire this blood?” The Queen Mother asked. “It is not stated in this commission.”

The White Crane looked at Chi-Fu. “That information was not told to our Master, Your Highness, only that it was already in hand and that his knowledge was to start and end with the Array.” The Short Tailed Peacock explained, bowing to the Queen Mother. “We can not tell you what we do not know.”

“This is not the Array of Silken Web Hollow.” Lady Minglou spoke up suddenly as she looked at the Array.

“Lady Minglou?” The Queen Mother asked.

“The words on this page do not match the words on the Array truly.” Minglou said and used her cane to point to one character in particular. “This says Xuèmài xiānglián, Bind the Blood. But the Array itself, whenever I reached it, would also read Shùfù dúyè, Bind the Venom. This diagram of the Array does not show this. Also, there was a ninth and tenth character here,” She said pointing to the centre of the Array, “Zhīzhū. Háizǐmen. Spider. Children.”

“This is the original drawing of the Array our Master designed and was paid to deliver.” Chi-Fu asserted defensively as Tai Lu brought another cup of golden liquid to the Old Crane. “Nothing on this page has been changed since the day it was completed. A copy was given to the man who paid for it and since then, this page has been in our Master’s gallery, alongside all others they have designed. I can attest to this.”

“Alterations done by another artisan later?” Red Son spoke up, “It was common back then for ill wishers to use the work of others to mask their own sly deeds.”

MK looked at Red Son. “Can that be done on an Array of such size and power without the original designer’s notice or knowledge? Surely someone would have noticed the changes before or during the cast of the Array?”

“It would take a skilled hand and careful reconstruction of the original Array not to be noticed, but it is possible. And sadly, not out of line for the normal schemes of Heaven in those days.” Red Son admitted, thinking carefully, “But if that is true, then it would mean that whoever was the original caster of this altered Array, was intimately familiar with the effects of Royal Spider Venom. As to my recollection, only a Queen’s Venom can turn a person into either a Drone or another Spider Demon. It would also mean that they deliberately changed the Array to include all Spider Demons, not just the Queens in their efforts to keep them in the Silken Web Hollow.”

MK shuddered. “I don't like where this is leading.”

“Neither do I.” Red Son admitted.

“Tell us.” The Queen Mother of the West began, her tone firm and clear. “With these alterations, what would be the effect on the Array?”

“It is, my understanding, Your Highness, that only a Spider Queen’s Venom is the only way a person or being, is turned into a Drone of the Spider Clan, or another Spider Demon. With that in mind and with these alterations, it would mean that, even if the Spider who came to the edge of the Array was not one of the named eight, the Array would also prevent anyone of the Spider Clan’s Hierarchy from leaving while the Array was active.” The White Crane admitted, and the three present spiders visibly restrained themselves from snarling at the bird like being.

“Did you know that these changes had been made?” The Queen Mother questioned.

The White Crane shook their head again. “I had no knowledge of these changes, I swear it. This image is the only design I made and it was exactly as I was instructed to make it to every detail. My instructions were clear. Only the Queens were to be contained.”

“Then explain how these chances could have happened and who would know how to make them. Quickly.” The Queen Mother of the West commanded.

“I do not know, Your Highness. The only people who could alter my works are those who share my particular skill, and to my knowledge, there were none but myself of this level who were under His Majestie’s employment.” The White Crane expressed.

“What about those employed by Court members?” MK’s question seemed to catch everyone off guard.

“You say that you were the only one of your level employed by the Jade Emperor, but that does not mean that there are not others of your level under the employment of the Heavenly Court.” Red Son clarified. “Surely one of them would have the ability and skill to match or even rival your own skill in Array spells and charms.”

“It is possible,” The White Crane agreed after considering for a moment. “But, none of them would have reason to do such a thing, by my recollections. None of us had any ill will towards the Spider Clan, and anyone with skills to match my own should not have had any reason or desire to alter the Array from its intended purpose. As I recall, I was only commissioned because the others before me had said the Array was too complex for them.”

“A person can be swayed for a price.” Red Son stated. “And it is proven throughout all history thus far that Heaven is the biggest pocket of corrupted men and women in power using coin, favour and rank to manipulate others into doing their bidding.”

“The White Crane can not think of anyone.” MK said, “What about you, Chi-Fu?” He asked of the short tailed Peacock, who had been very quiet and seemed to be caught in their own mind for the moment.

Chi-Fu seemed unwilling to answer, before the Queen Mother of the West’s voice cut through the air like a sharp blade and made everyone sit and stand just a little straighter and her command. “Speak.”

Xiaotain Quan gave a quick bark. And looked at Erlang Shen expectantly.

Erlang Shen huffed softly. “Her Royal Highness was talking to Chi-Fu, Xiaotain Quan, not you.” He scolded softly but MK saw the man offer the hound something from his hand, and the hound ate it happily. “Hush now.”

“Well trained.” Red Son noted under his breath as the tension faded just a little and MK lent back into his chair as Mei tried to stifle her chuckling behind her hand.

“I shall not ask again.” The Queen Mother remarked and Chi-Fu seemed unsure, until the White Crane put a hand to the Peacock’s shoulder.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, things back then were very different. There was no protection for the young if they spoke up against authority. Many learned to keep their mouths shut and their heads down by being made to witness the punishments of their peers for such ‘misbehaviour’.” The White Crane said, a grim reminder of how things had been for so long.

“Nephew.” The Queen Mother of the West said and Erlang Shen nodded, waving his hand slowly. The Sky above darkened as thick clouds rolled in from seemingly nowhere, creating a blanket that blocked the sun’s light.

“The eyes and ears of Heaven’s Court are rendered blind and deaf when the Sun is covered.” The Queen Mother of the West said. “And further,” She added, forming a golden ball in her hand and lightly tossing it upwards, it hovered above them all, forming a dome like veil of golden dust, faintly from all around them, the sounds of chanting and reciting scriptures could be heard. “Anyone who was not announced as a participant to this gathering of people will hear nothing but the words of the Taoist Faith. Your words and your actions will not be known.”

“If it eases you further, Plum Hill is open to you as both sanctuary and home.” Erlang Shen said. “You will not be hurt or punished for speaking the truth.”

Chi-Fu hesitated a moment longer, looking to the White Crane for guidance, and at the older avian’s nod, Chi-Fu steeled themself and spoke. “There were, at the time this Array was commissioned by my Master, some young assistance like myself, a mixture of gifted Human and Celestial children, all of us under the schoolings of other Masters who would shape us into useful members of the Court. We would often gather and speak of our Masters’ teachings together when we had a moment to ourselves. I recall one was quite skilled in their abilities to change and alter Array’s almost as if it were a natural skill. A Human boy, barely more than eighteen years.” They admit, rubbing their right arm, trying to hide the ruffling feathers there as they spoke. “He was brilliant, but he seemed unhappy with his role as an assistant, and often voiced a desire to prove himself before he reached his next birthday. Around the time that this Array was commissioned, he became quite withdrawn and suddenly very focused on honing his skills. Using our mock Arrays to test his abilities more and more even during our break times.”

“What became of this boy?” The Queen Mother of the West asked, her tone softer now as understanding fell over the room.

“I do not know.” Chi-Fu admitted, “only a few days after this Array was completed and the payment given, he vanished. We were told he had been released from the lessons for failing in too many classes, but we all knew his scores before this, his were the highest marks in all our classes.”

“I really don’t like where this is leading.” MK remarked, an awful feeling in his gut telling him that whatever had happened to the boy had not been pleasant. “Why can’t it ever be simple?”

“Heavenly matters are never simple.” Red Son sighed, rubbing his temples, “If this line of events is truthful and we follow it accordingly, it stands to reason that this human boy was either a willing participant, or a naive pawn in someone else’s plan to imprison the Spider Clan as a whole, and when his purpose was fulfilled and the Array laid down over the Silken Web Hollow, the boy was either paid hush money and wisely vanished from sight to avoid being found out, or, most likely, he was gotten rid of by the mastermind behind this whole twisted plot.”

“I fear it is as the Witnesses say,” Chi-Fu nodded, and put a hand to the Songbird’s head, softly. “We all knew back then that he had been removed, but we also knew that if we dared to make a fuss about it or question it, we would also be taken and, some of us had families and siblings relying on the money we earnt to survive. We mourned him and the others we later lost in our own ways, but we knew we could never speak of them, even as we gained and advanced in our own standings, because if we did, we could also just disappear.”

“By this information, it seems the fault does not lie upon the shoulders of the White Crane or his assistant. The Array’s Caster has since passed away of age and we have no means of finding who truly paid for such an Array.” The Queen Mother surmised with a regretful tone.

“So there is no way to give justice to our people?” The Spider Queen asked, anger clear as she clenched her fists tightly at her sides. “The boy who did this is likely gone, and we have no way to find the mastermind who cost our people their lives?”

“There must be something that can be done?” MK asked, looking at Red Son.

“Sadly, without a complete and total investigation into the Heaven’s Courtly papers, checking, referencing and interviewing every single person who was remotely involved in any way with Arrays possible from then and now. Which would take many more years, even if the Investigation is undertaken by the Ten Kings again simply because of the sheer number of people that would mean investigating. There is nothing that can be done at present without a means to narrow down- Unless…” Red Son paused and then leaned over and quietly asked. “Do you remember what Syntax said about the Spider Queen’s treasury in that cave, when he was showing us the Mech?”

MK nodded and answered just as quietly. “Yes, he said ‘you’d be amazed how much my Queen has in her treasury. We don’t spend on things unless we absolutely have to, my Queen prefers we not draw attention to ourselves.’. But why do you-Oh.” He realised what Red Son was suggesting.

The Silk Trade in China had always been the biggest source of income for the Spider Clan, even after the Silken Web Hollow was destroyed, sure the Silkworm Clan was a huge contributor and there were some Gods and humans had made names for themselves in the trade, but the whole operation was run and overseen by the Spider Clan from the start, the Silk Road was literally maintained by them, even to this day.

If someone had wanted to have control over the whole Silk Trade, they’d need to control the Spider Clan, and control began with restrictions of freedom, to break the spirits with limitations on what should be the most basic of rights.

“All of this because of someone’s greed?” MK asked, “Could it really be that?

“It's the oldest motive in all history, but it would make sense with what was happening at the time. Silk was the biggest investment of all the trades and the ones who had the most money back then had the most control.” Red Son added, “We’d need to be sure first before we suggest it though.”

“Unless, Witnesses?” The Queen Mother repeated after the two seemed to lose themselves in their own thoughts for a moment.

“Your Royal Highness, we request permission to voice and question a personal observation unrelated to this matter with the Spider Queen.” Red Son requested.

“I shall allow it.” The Queen Mother permitted.

“During his time with us, your youngest Clansmen made a comment in response to a question of mine, he stated that unless it was an absolute necessity, you and your clan do not spend upon yourselves so as not to draw attention to yourselves.” Red Son began and the Spider Queen nodded.

“This is true, but what has this to do with current matters?” the Queen asked.

“A thought occurred to us. A reason why the Array was commissioned and then edited to keep you and your Clan within its limits. And perhaps a means to find a way to give your people the justice they deserve.” Red Son said, and went on to explain. “As I recall from my lessons, right after the Silken Web Hollow was destroyed, there was a sudden rush of women, all of them wives of the men from the Heavenly Court, baying for the rights to rule the Silk Trade. These attempts to lay claim all failed, as not only did you rise shortly after to reclaim the reins of the Trade and continue the old rules, but also because of the Silkworm Clan. Of all the Silk traders back then, they were only ones who had the right and who could have stepped in and taken over without issue, but instead they chose to continue paying tribute to the Spider Clan and had even gone so far as to double their input in the sixty years after the Ruination of the Hollow to make up for the lack of Spider wears.”

“The Witnesses speak truth, My Queen. The Silkworm Clan made clear in their actions that they would not allow anyone but the Spider Clan to rule the Silk trade, even going so far as to bring Silk merchants to us in the early days.” Huntsman agreed.

“With all due respect, what was the capacity of the Hollow?” Red Son questioned. “The Death toll spoke of countless numbers, and past investigations had told of vast subterranean levels that to this day have not been touched for fear any attempt would destroy the precious treasures and relics that could not be removed from the surface.”

“Spiders can live in extremely cramped conditions,” Lady Minglou admitted, “We adapted to the Array’s limits. There were some limits that could not be tolerated. But again, we adapted to them in our own, unique ways.” She added.

Red Son and MK chose not to question that statement. They didn’t need to be told what she meant. 

Instead MK concluded. “On consideration of these matters, and given the results of the investigation given by the Ten Kings on the present matter; We find that it stands to reason, given how powerful the Silk Trade was and still is in China, that whomever commissioned this Array and then had it altered to suit their true needs, was someone who sought to hold power over the Whom of the Spider Clan by restricting their freedom. If this is accepted as valid by her Royal Highness, and the Queen of the Spider Clan, then it may yet be that justice can be given to the people who died needlessly.”

“How?” Huntsman asked.

“Today's exchange has proven the following things; The person who asked for this Array, whoever they are, had to have been in a place of power, either through marriage or birth at the time it was commissioned. They could not have afforded to pay The White Crane of the South otherwise. This person also had to have had a means to watch the Spider Clan from within the Array, or else the Array could not have been destroyed, allowing you to escape as you did.” Red Son further explained, and after a moment, Huntsman nodded, following along and the Bull Prince continued. “This person, whomever they are, likely ignored the attack at first in hopes that it would drive the Spider Queen Mother and her daughters to reach out for help, but when they did not and seeing just how vast the destruction was, they destroyed a part of the Array and allowed the few survivors to escape, likely in hopes of later recapturing them and striking a deal, protection for control of the Silk Trade. Such was the common favour for favour of the time.”

“An interesting thought.” Huntsman agreed, but shook his head. “But it is just a thought.”

“It is a provable fact, if one cares to look close enough and not be afraid to tell Heaven they are wrong.” MK stated, blunt and to the point in a way that had Huntsman’s head snapping towards the boy in shock. “Heaven has denied your Clan its dues for their own selfishness and neglect of their promise to treat all crimes within the Three Realms fairly. They owe you this.”

“Is that what you believe, young one?” The Queen Mother asked, not unkindly or harshly, but there was something unsaid in her words, something that Red Son took as a warning and hoped MK would hush.

“With all due respect, Your Highness, Heaven has proven time and again over the years that they do not serve the good of the Three Realms fairly or equally as they claim to.” MK expressed, taking the question of a challenge to prove his statement. He reminded himself to use the proper court way of speaking Tang had taught him, factual statements with as little personal thought as possible. To the point statements without fanfare but with manners. “The lessons in human schools don’t go into nearly as much detail as those of Demonic education I’m sure, but anyone who reads the books can easily find the unspoken truths. Humans and Demons have suffered from bouts of famine, drought, forced migrations and more strife all as the aftereffects of choices and decisions made by Heaven. Innocent families who have made lives and homes for themselves in one place have been harshly uprooted and shunned from regions that have called home for centuries of their family’s bloodline, all for a careless word of one God to another. Nothing has been done to correct these wrongs until someone else speaks up in defence of these wronged parties and usually by the time anything is done it is too late.”

There was a huff from the Demon Bull King behind them, a sound that Red Son hadn’t heard before, shock maybe? Not that Red Son could blame his father, the boy was playing very close to a very deadly fire, one wrong word and he’d be burnt.

“It stands to reason that if someone unbiased looked closely enough, they could easily find not only the evidence needed for this matter, but also a great deal of proof and evidence of a great many more crimes hidden under the rugs and behind the tapestries that would see many in Heaven’s Godly Ranks felled.” MK continued to say and there was a moment of tension from the gathered parties.

Red Son looked at MK, trying to keep his face blank even as his hair flickered slightly, betraying only to his parents that internally the Bull Prince was absolutely losing his mind. That could have so easily been taken as a threat, and in front of the Queen Mother of the West, and Erlang Shen! The Wife and Nephew of the Jade Emperor, of all people!? What was the Noodle Boy THINKING!?

“Your teaching again, Scholar?” Princess Iron Fan asked, and Red Son caught the hint of both amazement and something else in her tone, not amusement nor mocking, but something almost fond? What?

“The manner of speech is my teaching, the rest is all him.” Tang said, proud and happy. “You can teach a child to stand up for what's right, but you can’t teach them the words to say to express their own thoughts so honestly.”

Erlang Shen chuckled, a fond sound that lifted the tension. “I am starting to see why Lady Chayi- ah, pardon me. Why Chi Yue, is quite fond of this new generation.” He said with a smile, “They aren’t afraid to speak harsh truths.”

Red Son looked at the Illustrious Sage in utter shock. What?!

The Queen Mother of the West also chuckled. “Indeed, this new generation may yet be the forerunners of the long overdue changes.” She agreed.

Red Son felt like his body and mind completely shut down and then swiftly rebooted. What?!

“Drink some tea, my son.” Princess Iron Fan coaxed softly, as she pushed a fresh cup onto the table beside her son’s hand. “Recompose yourself.”

“Go MK.” Mei praised from behind MK with a smile all but bursting with pride.

“I’ll ask Pigsy to make your favourite fish dish for dinner.” Tang promised softly.

“The Witnesses speak truths, some that need to be heard by all.” The Queen mother said, “I have heard and seen enough to make my judgement. Nephew.”

“Yes Royal Aunt?” Erlang Shen answered.

“When we return to Heaven, with my blessings, your and your brothers may search the Treasure records and ledgers of all the Court wives, their Mothers, their Grandmothers and their great Grandmothers, seek anyone who had any connection to the Silk Trade back then as well as everyone who tried to lay claim upon it. Investigate to every name you find, and if you must, go further back, find the one who paid for this Array and who forged this document to commission it from The White Crane. When you have found the Mastermind behind this senseless slaughter, you will bring them to the Spider Queen and her Clan. Justice will be given by their hands for their people, as it should be.”

“It shall be done,” he assured.

“Is there any other matter that needs to be spoken off this day?” The Queen Mother of the West asked.

“None that relate to the matter, Your Highness. Though it should be noted that henceforth, my sister and her Clansmen shall be taking up residency with me, for safety reasons, the location is undisclosed.” Lady Minglou said, as both Huntsman and the Spider Queen were still stunned and recollecting themselves as Red Son was. “But, if I may be so bold as to address the Witness who spoke just now?”

“You may.” The Queen Mother nodded.

“On behalf of those unable to say it, I thank you.” The elderly woman said, and offered a bow to MK in the same way the Spiders had bowed to the Queen mother when being introduced. “It has been a long time since someone stood up for our Clan so selflessly.”

“No one should be thanked for doing the right thing.” MK said, returning the bow with his own. “But for the honour of those who can not speak for themselves, I accept.”

“Then if there is no further discussion to be had,” The Queen Mother of the West said again, giving all in attendance one last chance to speak up.

No one did.

“This Court has concluded that to obtain true justice in the name of the Spider Clan’s lost people, a second investigation will be undertaken.” Ao Bing said, his orb in his hand shaking brightly as if listening.

“Are we all in agreement?” The Queen Mother asked.

“The Second Party has no objections.” The White Crane of the South said, bowing to the Queen Mother again as both his assistance kowtowed to her again.

“The Witnesses have no objections.” MK answered for both himself and Red Son, who was still trying to get his brain to restart from what had just happened.

“The First Party has no objections.” The Spider Queen assured as she and Minglou bowed once again, Huntsman returning to one knee beside them.

“Then by my decree, as Queen Mother of the West; until the investigation is over, the White Crane of the South, Chi-Fu the Short Tailed Peacock and Tai Lu the Songbird shall remain at Plum Hill. The results of the investigation shall be personally delivered to the Witnesses for safe keeping as well as a record of the outcome being sent to both Prince Ao Bing of the Eastern Sea, Lady Chayi, and one final record submitted to the Underground archives.” The Queen Mother stated, her words being noted down swiftly and neatly by her nephew as she spoke. “The one found to be responsible for the Array and their crime of negligence when the Silken Web Hollow was destroyed, will be stripped of their ranks and statuses, their worth in Heaven reduced to nothing and their titles removed, then they shall be handed over to the Spider Queen. Whatever else is to be done to them will be known only to the Spider Clan.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” The Spider Queen smiled.

It took seven days.

Seven days of uproar and upheaval in Heaven’s Court and a lot of unsavoury truths coming to light, but by the end of it, Red Son and MK were hand delivered the promised results by Nezha, and told that Erlang Shen had personally overseen the hand over of the Mastermind, a portly man who had been found to be arranging ‘unfortunate accidents’ and ‘emergency tax payments’ to many of the smaller trade merchants between Heaven and Earth, being handed over to the Spider Queen. Ao Bing and Chi Yue set the results they were given into place in their Relic vaults and the First King accepted the results on behalf of the Ten Kings.

Far from where the eyes and ears of people, gods and other demons, two sisters sat together beneath the evening sky, watching the last of the sunlight fade away and darken as they shared a drink together. They’d spent the day enjoying the warmth of the sun and savouring the bird songs after a long night spent delivering the long overdue justice for their people, and now, the Severing Queen of the Spider Clan found herself at a loss of what to do.

“Would they be proud?” She asked.

“Proud, and more than anything, happy. Our people survive, Jingzhao, more than that, they thrive because of your actions. That more than anything proves that you have done a better job than I ever could.” Minglou said, smiling as she reached over and gently took her younger sister’s hand. “You have done more than enough for our people for so long, now you must take time to do what is best for you.”

“I don’t know what that is.” Jingzhao admitted.

“You’ll figure it out, little sister. You always do.” Minglou assured, lifting her glass. “To a Future.”

Jingzhao nodded, lifting her own glass. “And the memories of yesterdays.”

“MK! Order up!” Pigsy called out after hitting the bell on his countertop. Bai He was sat in a stool nearby, happily eating a bowl of fresh noodles, while Tang sat close by, eating a plate of dumplings.

“On it boss.” MK assured taking the order bag from Pigsy, swiping the dumpling from Tang’s hand before running off. “Thanks Pa!”

“Wha-Hey!” Tang called after the boy.

The curious thing about legends is the way we can continue to be moved by the same stories.

“Hey, techy spider?” A pair of voices called out a moment before a loud ‘ding’ tore through the air of Patchy Web Tech Repair, the small corner shop that had recently opened up near the edge of Megapolis.

“If you two broke your tablets again in less than six hours since I last repaired them, I'm telling Lin.” Syntax said without looking up from the desk where he was carefully working on repairing a laptop computer.

“No! Nothing like that, it's just-” Yin began to say only to growl as Jin shouldered him aside. “-Lin’s old phone is getting slow and-” Jin managed to explain before he was cut off by Yin pushing him out of the way with a hand to his face. “Oi!” “And she never gets anything new unless the old one is a literal brick or can’t be repaired. So, since you know all the fancy techie stuff, we thought-” Yin yelped as Jin punched his arm hard enough to dumb it and pushed him aside again. “Hey!” “We thought that you could make her one that won’t slow down.” Jin finished with a toothy smile.

Syntax paused his work and looked at the two of them with a raised brow, waiting for something.

“Please.” They both pleaded, trying to give the spider their best puppy dog eyes.

Syntax sighed, “I’ll consider it, if you two can manage not to break or damage your tech for the next two weeks.” He offered.

Yin and Jin cheered.

The sound of a horn from outside and Syntax watched as MK and Mei drove past in the Tuk-Tuk, heading for the docks, laughing and smiling as they went.

We’re comforted by the familiar tales of friendship.

“Incoming cat food delivery.” Huntsman’s voice warned and before Sandy could ask how he knew, a familiar horn hocked twice from outside.

“Delivery from Pigsy’s Noodles, two dozen pots of feline friendly liver cuts~!” MK called out, over the many, many meows of cats. “Hey, come on little guys and girls, let me get to the door. Hey don’t chew my shoe laces! Sandy?”

“Coming MK.” Sandy assured leaving the teapot he was preparing to steep while he went to answer the door.

Mo rose up onto his back legs, using his front paws to balance while looking over the edge of the counter, watching Huntsman turn the meat over in the pan. He meowed.

“Keep the rest of the felines off the table and chairs while we’re eating and I’ll use the raw cut offs to make kitty treats.” Huntsman offered.

Mo meowed and rubbed up against Huntsman’s leg before heading into the dining room.

Courage. 

“Hey big guy, Lan Lingyo’s granny is here for her.” Lin said in a quiet voice by the barely cracked open door, so as not to wake the napping children in the room.

After a moment or two, the door was pushed wider and Goliath stepped out, gently guiding a little girl with two tiny horn nubs on her head and a short fluffy tail ahead of him with one hand as she yawned, rubbing the last of the nap time sleep from her eyes. Upon seeing her granny, she smiled and hurried over, hugging the old woman before waving goodbye to Lin and Goliath.

“Who's left in your group?” Lin asked.

“The Bo twins and baby Jiang are still sleeping while Wei, Shen and little Yung are colouring.” Goliath said with a fond smile. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, Big guy, the city needed a proper Demon Daycare, and as good as we are, Tudi, Scorps and I can’t do it all by ourselves, so having help means the city has one less problem.” Lin smiled, “Besides, I’d rather have you in here then my big brothers, they’d be even worse than the kids on a sugar high.”

Goliath couldn’t stop himself shuddering at that idea. Yin and Jin were bad enough when they weren’t hyped up on candy.

Redemption.

Macaque stepped out of a shadow onto the rooftop of his Dojo having finished his afternoon patrol of the city, he paused seeing a bag from Pigsy’s Noodles with a folded picture attached to it, opening it, he found one of MK’s crayon drawings and smiled, he then dropped into his own shadow and settled in to quiet darkness, focusing in on a conversation between Chi Yue and the Scorpion Queen.

At times, the path of the hero might seem unclear and the stories chaotic and directionless.

After finishing dinner with his parents, Red Son raced out of the Fortress on a newly finished motorbike and within minutes caught up with Mei and Spindrax, tearing across the terrain at speed in an unofficial race.

Sometimes it may seem as though we’ve ended up back where we began. But it's clear to see how much we’ve grown on the journey.

MK smiled as some of the little monkeys settled around him and the Monkey King as they watched the sun setting. He’s left Mei at the race tracks so she and Spindrax could practice for an upcoming race before coming to Flower and Fruit Mountain with food for the Monkey King.

“Will you tell me more about the Demon way of doing this?” he asked his mentor.

“I will, but it's not a pleasant topic bud, so I’ll run it past your dad and pa before I go into the higher up stuff.” Wukong assured his student with a smile.

 For all though the story is over, there’s always room on the shelf for another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's done! The Spider's Web has reached its conclusion.

Thank you all for reading! For those who wish to know, these are the translations for the characters in the Array and who they represent. Zǐsè - Violet - The Spider Queen Mother. Zuànshí - Diamond - The First Spider Queen. Zǐ jīng - Amethyst - The Second Spider Queen. Hóngbǎoshí - Ruby - The Third Spider Queen. Yù - Jade - The Fourth Spider Queen. Huáng yù - Topaz - The Fifth Spider Queen. Zhēnzhū - Pearl - The Sixth Spider Queen. Cuì - Emerald - The Seventh Spider Queen. < Part 16

[codingchica]

Many Times or Not at All! Java's While Statement

The Java while loop evaluates the expression before each loop is executed. It may be executed zero or more times. #java #syntax #while #loops

💚 TIP: References Quick List Java: While Statement Java: Processing Result Sets Java: ResultSet.next() Another loop format that Java supports is the while statement. As the placement suggests, the booleanExpression to determine whether to execute the loop’s commands is run at the beginning, before each loop’s logic is executed. This may be helpful if even the first time through the loop we may…

[xenopoem]

The corpse becomes not merely biological matter but a xenopoetic medium: a dermosemiotic page overwritten by bacterial syntax, effluents, and the mutagenic memory of environmental trauma. From the xenopoetic standpoint, water is not merely a medium of decomposition but a communicative vector—an epistemic solvent in which identity is both metabolized and redistributed. Aquatic environments rich in industrial effluents or organic decay catalyze a linguistic liquefaction: a glossophagic slurry in which the body's boundaries dissolve into microbial utterance. The corpse, submerged in such liminal fluids, becomes a host for recombinant narration. The body, displaced from the taxonomies of identity, begins to conjugate with the ambient semiotic field: salt gradients, bacterial quorum signals, and entropy-induced foaming. Putrefaction in freshwater proceeds faster, not because of external flora, but because the internal grammar of the corpse—its gut and lungs—overflow with linguistic bacteria. These endogenous agents rupture into semiotic production once the anatomical vessel is punctured by death. Burial delays decomposition not by halting time but by subjecting the corpse to a recursive loop of environmental negation. The absence of air and presence of mineral occlusion slows bacterial discourse, turning the body into a saponification-ready archive—a substrate awaiting microbial annotation. The soil, as a biosemiotic medium, inscribes the corpse with sedimentary scripts. Its porosity determines the permeability of memory, its dampness modulates the rhythm of decay. Deeper graves encode silence, while shallow burials produce surface-tensioned discourses of interrupted decomposition. The variability in decay thus becomes a linguistic gradient—a stratified palimpsest of microbial transcription. Saponification... produces a waxy, fatty substance... with an ‘earthy, cheesy, and ammoniacal’ odor. Adipocere is the necrobiotic codex of death’s slow linguistics. It stabilizes the body through microbial encryption—triglycerides are hydrolyzed, unsaturated fatty acids rewritten as saturated messages, and free fatty acids form ionic ligatures with the host environment. Here, decomposition halts only to begin another textual form: one less susceptible to weather but more susceptible to misreading. The body becomes a preserved script—solidified yet incoherent, interpretable only by forensic xenolinguists trained to decode fatty acid syntax. Children and women, with higher fat content, become ideal pages for this waxy calligraphy of decay. Internal organs, if sufficiently fatty, also join the lexicon. The epiploon writes, the perirenal sheath replies, and the bullet’s pathway is etched into adipose sentences. Mummification is the necrotic abstraction of self into husk. Unlike adipocere’s fatty articulation, mummification is lexical retreat—a symbolic apoptosis. Air and temperature, acting as dehydrating editors, abrade the surface narrative until only exoskeletal grammar remains. Whereas adipocere consolidates meaning, mummification pulverizes it into a brittle index—ecchymoses, wounds, and fungal inscriptions forming the syntax of what cannot be said but must be remembered. In both adipocere and mummification, the xenopoetic body ceases to be subject and becomes substrate. Identity becomes postverbal residue. These are not metaphorical deaths but literal semiotic metamorphoses—grammar rewritten by necrobiotic hands. Adipocere inhibits putrefaction not merely chemically, but semiotically—it erects a syntactic membrane that resists further microbial intrusion. Mummification, meanwhile, is glossophagic restraint: the refusal to leak further meaning.

[bruoche]

Finite State Automata defining spell syntax.

The spells use only three different characters to be written, "╭" (which can represent "0"), "ʌ" (which can represent "1") and a validation symbol "ᴎ" that can represent ";". When writing spells, spaces, indentation and parenthesis can be added to make them more readable. Those do not modify the spell meaning as only the three characters precedently mentionned matter.

A fourth glyph "╰" can be placed to signify the begining of a spell too, so indentations are more logical, but this character do not add meaning to the spell either.

This automaton is nearly deterministic, with the exception of the validating "root" state, that can only go back on itself to exit the current loop (an ongoing while, the spell itself or a function definition for exemple). The spell also cannot validate before exiting every ongoing loop, and can only validate once every loop are exited. Otherwise, the rest of the states and their transitions are entirely deterministic.

A more detailed version of the FSA :