#interactive web applications.

[annadsouza507]

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[chunavparcharhass]

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[sparkznkpop]

Come home the kids (me and my ocs) miss you :(

Sorry honey, I’m still out searching for that golden milk carton called Inspiration. But tell the kids I love them and I love you too. I’ll be home soon I promise. BSHSHSN

1. Sorry for the late reply I have been busy preparing for going to school

2. I didnt mean to drop off the face of the earth HSNSJS

3. Okay, so I’ve been meaning, as I always, say want to work on stuff but I don’t know where to start HOWEVER, I think I’m making progress so who knows

4. My inspiration is like a light switch it comes on and off and comes and goes… right now it’s flickering lol

5. You guys can still message me and stuff I’ll just be reallyyyyyy slow to respond but I’m always occasionally looking through the tags and dash

[niveditainfosys]

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In conclusion, Nivedita stands as the epitome of excellence in UX design, offering more than just visually pleasing interfaces. We unlock the full potential of your digital presence by creating experiences that resonate and endure. Elevate your brand, captivate your audience, and stay ahead in the digital race with Nivedita, where innovation meets exceptional user experiences. 

Transforming Digital Interactions

At Nivedita, we are not just a company; we are architects of digital delight. Our seasoned team of UX designers excels in crafting intuitive interfaces that elevate user engagement to unprecedented heights. From the moment users land on your platform, we ensure an immersive journey that captivates and retains their attention.

Nivedita’s approach goes beyond conventional UX design; we redefine digital interaction through innovative and trendsetting designs. Our commitment to staying ahead of industry trends ensures that your brand remains not just relevant but a trendsetter in the digital landscape.

Navigating through a digital space should be seamless, and at Nivedita, we make it a reality. Our UX solutions prioritize user satisfaction by optimizing navigation, ensuring users effortlessly find what they seek, leaving them with a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction.

[dropoutdeveloper]

Introduction to JavaScript for Beginners: Unlock the Power of Web Development 2023

Welcome to our comprehensive guide on JavaScript for beginners. In this article, we will delve deep into the world of JavaScript, one of the most versatile and widely-used programming languages on the web. Whether you’re an aspiring web developer or simply curious about the fascinating realm of coding, we’ve got you covered. Let’s embark on this exciting journey and unlock the potential of…

[beakers-and-telescopes]

With the fast fashion industry… how it is… finding sustainable ways to make fabric is super important.  Fibers from synthetic fabrics make up 35% of the microplastics that make their way to the ocean.  Natural fibers sourced from plants or animals are much more environmentally sound options, including silk.

Currently, the only way to get natural silk on a large scale is to harvest it from silkworms.  You’ve probably heard about the strength and durability of spider silk (it is 6x stronger than Kevlar!) but as of yet there hasn’t been a good way of getting it.  Raising spiders the way people do silkworms isn’t really an option.  Spiders need a lot of room to build their webs compared to silkworms, and individual spiders don’t produce that much silk.  Plus, when you put a whole bunch of spiders in captivity together, they tend to start eating each other.

Attempts to artificially recreate spider silk have also been less than successful.  Spider silk has a surface layer of glycoproteins and lipids on it that works as a sort of anti-aging “skin”- allowing the silk to withstand conditions such as sunlight and humidity.  But this layer has been very tricky to reproduce.

However, as scientists in China realized, silkworms produce that same kind of layer on their silk.  So what if we just genetically modified silkworms to produce spider silk?

That is exactly what the researchers at Donghua University in Shanghai did.  A team of researchers introduced spider silk protein genes to silkworms using CRISPR-Cas9 gene editing and microinjections in silkworm eggs.  In addition to this, they altered the spider silk proteins so that they would interact properly with the other proteins in silkworm glands.  And it worked!  This is the first study ever to produce full length spider silk proteins from silkworms.

The applications of this are incredibly exciting.  In addition to producing comfortable textiles and new, innovative bulletproof vests, silkworm generated spider silk could be used in cutting edge smart materials or even just to create better performing sutures.  In the future, this team intends to research how to modify this new spider silk to be even stronger, and they are confident that “large-scale commercialization is on the horizon."

[codingquill]

Essentials You Need to Become a Web Developer

HTML, CSS, and JavaScript Mastery

Text Editor/Integrated Development Environment (IDE): Popular choices include Visual Studio Code, Sublime Text.

Version Control/Git: Platforms like GitHub, GitLab, and Bitbucket allow you to track changes, collaborate with others, and contribute to open-source projects.

Responsive Web Design Skills: Learn CSS frameworks like Bootstrap or Flexbox and master media queries

Understanding of Web Browsers: Familiarize yourself with browser developer tools for debugging and testing your code.

Front-End Frameworks: for example : React, Angular, or Vue.js are powerful tools for building dynamic and interactive web applications.

Back-End Development Skills: Understanding server-side programming languages (e.g., Node.js, Python, Ruby , php) and databases (e.g., MySQL, MongoDB)

Web Hosting and Deployment Knowledge: Platforms like Heroku, Vercel , Netlify, or AWS can help simplify this process.

Basic DevOps and CI/CD Understanding

Soft Skills and Problem-Solving: Effective communication, teamwork, and problem-solving skills

Confidence in Yourself: Confidence is a powerful asset. Believe in your abilities, and don't be afraid to take on challenging projects. The more you trust yourself, the more you'll be able to tackle complex coding tasks and overcome obstacles with determination.

[staff]

Twitter’s API changes

Hello, Tumblr. Twitter unexpectedly announced they will end free access to the Twitter API (Application Programming Interface) on February 9th. A recent update had extended that date to today, February 13th, 2023. 

What’s an API?

Put simply, APIs define how programming systems interact with one another. For example, an API allows third parties (say, a social media platform) to interact with another website programmatically (to publish posts, etc.)

How does this affect Tumblr?

We are removing the feature that links a Twitter account to your Tumblr. This will end the ability to automatically share your new posts directly from Tumblr to Twitter when they are published. This will also remove the ability to automatically display recent tweets in your blog’s theme. This change will immediately affect web, Android, and iOS.

We appreciate this will be frustrating for many users, but all is not lost—you will still be able to share any Tumblr post to Twitter manually using the normal share option on web. For Android and iOS, you will need to have the Twitter app installed to manually share Tumblr posts on Twitter. This functionality is expected for both platforms in upcoming app versions.

[lazywitchling]

So here's the thing, right? I keep looking through my own blog going "Hey! Where's the witchy content?" (the-- the 'where's the cream filling' commercials? anyone? no? I'm just old? okay.)

I've made a few posts over the past little while that boil down to "blogging about witchery gets hard once it gets more specific". At some point, my craft got so personalized to me, interacting with my own familiar spirit, building my own astral space and figuring out a whole paradigm there about bridges and astral space and liminal space and imagination... there's just so much that I can't really *share* and have it applicable to anyone else but me, you know? So in a slow-but-steady snowball effect, I've wound up going pretty radio silent over here at lazywitchling dot tumblr dot com. I'm still witching in a way, but it's been a lot more reading and information gathering lately. Less active work and more passive learning.

It's hard to talk about the information gathering process, especially when a lot of that has moved offline. It was easy to share all the things I was learning when I was first starting out, because all the things I was learning came from here. It was easy enough to hit the reblog button, share a post to my blog, and tag it so I could find it again later. As a consequence, other people were able to find content through my blog too. But now I'm spending more time reading books offline, taking notes in a physical notebook, sitting quietly in the dark with my eyes closed having conversations with a spirit consisting of vague impressions and images, waving a pendulum at a dusty old building corner and asking The Thing That's There if it wants to stay or leave.

So what do I do about this radio silence? SHOULD I do anything about it? The other thing is that I've seen so so so many witches over the years of this webbed site just disappear, then come back years later with a lot of fanfare and "I'M BACK, BABY!" and then they just... stop posting again after a month. So something about making the big "I've decided to post more!" announcement just doesn't work. You gotta have reason to start posting more, not just the desire to, yaknow?

What do I talk about, then? Vague updates about the astral space I'm building? Perhaps a few more stories of the conversations with J (my familiar)? More vague updates of me screeching at witch books? (I know y'all love that last one!)

Something. idk what, but something.

Anyway. Hi. I'm Jes. It's short for Jester. How's it going?

[laika290]

ever wonder why spotify/discord/teams desktop apps kind of suck?

i don't do a lot of long form posts but. I realized that so many people aren't aware that a lot of the enshittification of using computers in the past decade or so has a lot to do with embedded webapps becoming so frequently used instead of creating native programs. and boy do i have some thoughts about this.

for those who are not blessed/cursed with computers knowledge Basically most (graphical) programs used to be native programs (ever since we started widely using a graphical interface instead of just a text-based terminal). these are apps that feel like when you open up the settings on your computer, and one of the factors that make windows and mac programs look different (bc they use a different design language!) this was the standard for a long long time - your emails were served to you in a special email application like thunderbird or outlook, your documents were processed in something like microsoft word (again. On your own computer!). same goes for calendars, calculators, spreadsheets, and a whole bunch more - crucially, your computer didn't depend on the internet to do basic things, but being connected to the web was very much an appreciated luxury!

that leads us to the eventual rise of webapps that we are all so painfully familiar with today - gmail dot com/outlook, google docs, google/microsoft calendar, and so on. as html/css/js technology grew beyond just displaying text images and such, it became clear that it could be a lot more convenient to just run programs on some server somewhere, and serve the front end on a web interface for anyone to use. this is really very convenient!!!! it Also means a huge concentration of power (notice how suddenly google is one company providing you the SERVICE) - you're renting instead of owning. which means google is your landlord - the services you use every day are first and foremost means of hitting the year over year profit quota. its a pretty sweet deal to have a free email account in exchange for ads! email accounts used to be paid (simply because the provider had to store your emails somewhere. which takes up storage space which is physical hard drives), but now the standard as of hotmail/yahoo/gmail is to just provide a free service and shove ads in as much as you need to.

webapps can do a lot of things, but they didn't immediately replace software like skype or code editors or music players - software that requires more heavy system interaction or snappy audio/visual responses. in 2013, the electron framework came out - a way of packaging up a bundle of html/css/js into a neat little crossplatform application that could be downloaded and run like any other native application. there were significant upsides to this - web developers could suddenly use their webapp skills to build desktop applications that ran on any computer as long as it could support chrome*! the first applications to be built on electron were the late code editor atom (rest in peace), but soon a whole lot of companies took note! some notable contemporary applications that use electron, or a similar webapp-embedded-in-a-little-chrome as a base are:

microsoft teams

notion

vscode

discord

spotify

anyone! who has paid even a little bit of attention to their computer - especially when using older/budget computers - know just how much having chrome open can slow down your computer (firefox as well to a lesser extent. because its just built better <3)

whenever you have one of these programs open on your computer, it's running in a one-tab chrome browser. there is a whole extra chrome open just to run your discord. if you have discord, spotify, and notion open all at once, along with chrome itself, that's four chromes. needless to say, this uses a LOT of resources to deliver applications that are often much less polished and less integrated with the rest of the operating system. it also means that if you have no internet connection, sometimes the apps straight up do not work, since much of them rely heavily on being connected to their servers, where the heavy lifting is done.

taking this idea to the very furthest is the concept of chromebooks - dinky little laptops that were created to only run a web browser and webapps - simply a vessel to access the google dot com mothership. they have gotten better at running offline android/linux applications, but often the $200 chromebooks that are bought in bulk have almost no processing power of their own - why would you even need it? you have everything you could possibly need in the warm embrace of google!

all in all the average person in the modern age, using computers in the mainstream way, owns very little of their means of computing.

i started this post as a rant about the electron/webapp framework because i think that it sucks and it displaces proper programs. and now ive swiveled into getting pissed off at software services which is in honestly the core issue. and i think things can be better!!!!!!!!!!! but to think about better computing culture one has to imagine living outside of capitalism.

i'm not the one to try to explain permacomputing specifically because there's already wonderful literature ^ but if anything here interested you, read this!!!!!!!!!! there is a beautiful world where computers live for decades and do less but do it well. and you just own it. come frolic with me Okay ? :]

*when i say chrome i technically mean chromium. but functionally it's same thing

[fascinatedscrawls]

Take a Byte

"Huh." Danny stood up straight and leaned sideways, simultaneously standing on something flat and nothing at all. "Well, that's different."

Floating up (for a given definition of the word) a little he tried reaching out to what he was going to call the 'ceiling', but maybe 'screen' was a better word?

"Different?" The question was a little muffled, the view of Tucker's frown was almost too clear though. And big. "Different how? We've done this before."

"Yeah, but usually only when I'm too busy fighting Technus to look around." Danny pointed out, doing just that. Turning away from the mind bogglingly large view of his friend's face, Danny tried to orient himself. It was difficult to do in a place he knew was 2D even though his eyes insisted there was a third dimension. Viewing Tucker's PDA from the inside was always a bit odd.

Floating upwards, or maybe just to the left? Whatever, he made his way over to the list of application icons cluttering the floor/wall and tried to grab one. He felt the pressure of whatever it was for just a moment before the app - the calculator - opened up. Jolting above it in surprise, Danny reached out and hit the hilariously huge '8' button to see if he could.

"Dude, why do you have your calculator on your main screen?" Danny teased, ignoring Tucker's sigh as zipped down to hit the '0' twice.

"Because I don't like bringing a separate one to math class, which we have nearly every school day. You know that." A finger loomed large and Danny was quick to move to the side as Tucker tapped out of the application, each interaction causing a little zap of electricity between the screen and the PDA's display.

"Fair." He made a mental note to try and avoid that if at all possible. Sure, the arc seemed to start at the floor instead of Tuck's finger, but probably not fun to be near either way. "Can you open a webpage? So far Technus has stayed mostly local, but if he ever gets the bright idea to surf the web to different locations I'd like to have some experience navigating the place."

"Sure." Tucker used the stylus this time, the plastic pen coming down like one of his parent's inventions and zipping here and there as a browser opened below Danny's feet. A webpage opened, then another as Tucker entered in an address.

"Whoa, hang on." Danny flew closer as Tucker hesitated before clicking through a pop-up banner.

"What?"

"It's just," putting one hand on the edge of the banner, Danny trailed off as he looked closer at the bottom side of it, the one hidden from the screen. "Dude, when they say cookies, I didn't know they were literal?"

"They aren't." Tucker asserted confidently. "Or, rather, they are but only in the technological version."

"Hm, are you sure?" Sniffing a little, Danny tried to identify the small package full of delicious looking baked goods hanging from the banner. Chocolate chip definitely, but maybe with a ginger snap thrown in? It smelled spicy.

"Man, no one would know how to code in actual cookies to a webpage, especially not the local news station." He brandished the stylus again only to huff exasperatedly when Danny flew up to wave him off. "Come on, you have to be pulling my leg."

"Are you talking to your PDA again?" Danny could hardly hear Sam's question, but it did a nice job of distracting Tucker.

Danny flew to the little banner as Tucker tried defending himself against Sam's teasing and flipped a few options before accepting the necessary cookies. When the final button was pressed a little bag of cookies (just the chocolate chip ones, it looked like) dropped from the banner into his hand. Opening it up, he inspected one (yep, looked like a cookie) before taking a bite.

"Uh, whatcha got there Danny?" Sam asked filling the ceiling with her suspicious look, Tucker clearly having turned it her way to 'prove' he was talking to Danny.

"A cookie!" The words were a bit hard to get out around the mouthful, but he was sure the one he held up to showcase got the message across.

"What?" Tucker appeared again in a blur. "Danny, where did you get those from?"

"The webpage." Sometimes Tucker asked the dumbest questions. "I told you they were real."

"Cookies aren't - they don't - it doesn't work like that!"

Sam took the PDA from Tucker when it was clear he was having a crisis. She left him to his mumbles and instead asked, "Are they good? Do you know if they're vegan?"

"They're alright," Danny put another one in his mouth to try and pin down why they weren't great as he read the back of the package. "A bit stale, I guess. And, uh, no idea on the vegan part - this just says they're made from 'top quality ones and zeroes'."

"There's advertising on the webpage cookies?"

They both ignored Tucker's baffled question as Sam thought his response over, a frown forming before she asked, "Wait, aren't you just ones and zeroes when you're in there?"

"Theoretically. That's what Tucker believes at least."

Her frown turned a bit disgusted.

"Does that make eating the cookies cannibalism?"

That made Danny hesitate. He held the cookie he was about to eat out in front of him and inspected it for a beat, then remembered every other time they discussed cannibalism recently and popped it in his mouth anyway.

"Can't be worse than needing to drink ecto, right?"

Sam scrunched her nose up, but clearly remembered how she didn't win that fight, especially after Frostbite brought out the 'medically necessary' parts. The PDA was snatched back before she could respond and Tucker's face was even closer than before, his eye nearly the size of Danny.

"Danny! You don't know what's in those! I didn't see which ones you allowed, what if they have trackers in there?!"

There weren't, Danny made sure of that, but seeing Tucker all worked up was kind of funny so he just shrugged.

"Would that mean they could track him outside of your PDA though?"

"That's it, I'm pulling you out." Tucker started the process and Danny responded by shoving the last of the cookies he was holding in his mouth. "Danny! Stop that! No!"

Chewing faster (and nearly choking in his haste) Danny managed to swallow them down before being hurled back into reality, the switch from 2D to 3D making him stumble right into Tucker's hands, where his friend shook him by the shoulders frantically.

"Spit them out!"

"Keep that up and I might hurl them at you, but in the least pleasant way possible." All the shaking was making him a bit sick.

"Why would you do that?" Tucker let go of him to put a hand to his hat. "Who knows what they translated to here!"

Smacking his lips a little, Danny brushed a few crumbs from his hands then reached in his pocket to retrieve the package and the final cookie he kept inside it, still chocolatey if a bit crumbly. "Looks to me like they're still cookies."

"Hm," Sam grabbed it and inspected the packaging for herself. "Do you think this makes them vegan and cruelty free or does being a cookie from a corporate webpage cancel that last part out?"

Danny hummed as Tucker snagged the package to freak out over, before offering, "I could try to grab one from a non-profit next time?"

"No," Tucker cut in. "Stop taking food from strange websites! Jazz will have my head!"

"Spoilsport."

[javascript]

Tumblr.js is back!

Hello Tumblr—your friendly neighborhood Tumblr web developers here. It’s been a while!

Remember the official JavaScript client library for the Tumblr API? tumblr.js? Well, we’ve picked it up, brushed it off, and released a new version of tumblr.js for you.

Having an official JavaScript client library for the Tumblr API means that you can interact with Tumblr in wild and wonderful ways. And we know as well as anybody how important it is to foster that kind of creativity.

Moving forward, this kind of creativity is something we’re committed to supporting. We’d love to hear about how you’re using it to build cool stuff here on Tumblr!

Some highlights:

NPF post creation is now supported via the createPost method.

The bundled TypeScript type declarations have been vastly improved and are generated from source.

Some deprecated dependencies with known vulnerabilities have been removed.

Intrigued? Have a look at the changelog or read on for more details.

Migrating

v4 includes breaking changes, so if you’re ready to upgrade to from a previous release, there are a few things to keep in mind:

The callback API has been deprecated and is expected to be removed in a future version. Please migrate to the promise API.

There is no need to use returnPromises (the method or the option). A promise will be returned when no callback is provided.

createPost is a new method for NPF posts.

Legacy post creation methods have been deprecated.

createLegacyPost is a new method with the same behavior as createPost in previous versions (rename createPost to createLegacyPost to maintain existing behavior).

The legacy post creation helpers like createPhotoPost have been removed. Use createLegacyPost(blogName, { type: 'photo' }).

See the changelog for detailed release notes.

What’s in store for the future?

We'll continue to maintain tumblr.js, but we’d like to hear from you. What do you want? How can we provide the tools for you to continue making cool stuff that makes Tumblr great?

Let us know right here or file an issue on GitHub.

Some questions for you:

We’d like to improve types to make API methods easier to use. What methods are most important to you?

Are there API methods that you miss?

Tumblr.js is a Node.js library, would you use it in the browser to build web applications?

[penvisions]

garnish {chapter 7}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Reeling from a tense encounter with your professor, your emotions get the best of you. Self-destruction always makes for a good show to coworkers who don't have the whole picture.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: violence, language, threatening behavior, misogynistic behavior, sexist language, threatening ultimatum, abuse of power, academic stress, academic anxiety, degrading talk from male characters, self-destructive behavior, home invasion, attempted break in, description of injuries, blood, injuries in the kitchen, dangers of sharp knives, intense emotions, readers internal monologue gets apathetic, reader has depressive and isolating thoughts, talk of injuries, self-depreciation, secret relationship, work relationship, power dynamics (due to job rankings), sexual content, allusions to sexual content, allusions to past feelings of inadequacy, reader gets in her head about life path, reader is having a tough time ngl, invasion of personal space, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, smoking, cigarettes, use of tobacco, childhood trauma, reader reveals parentage issues, abandonment issues, past trauma, major angst

A/N: been struggling with this chapter for real, y'all. but the remainder of this fic is outlines and i'm beyond excited to get down to the nitty gritty with it. hope this feeds you well and happy holidays ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || kofi

“Yes, my brother. He’s been keeping a low profile lately, trying to avoid suspicion that could land him in the hands of the authorities. He’s explained to me that you’re under the impression that he came onto you too strongly for your comfort and decided to submit a police report against him with the help of your boss.”

Surprise colored your features, not expecting this to be the reason why you weren’t being considered for something that would further your academic career, help you to establish yourself in your field of study.

“He put his hands on me in two different situations. He didn’t back off when I verbally told him I wasn’t interested. Then he proceeded to put his hands on me, attacked me outside of my place of work.”

“That’s what he said you would play it off as, but seeing the way that you interact with the gruff boss of yours, playing hard is what seems to be your prerogative.”

“If you want the internship, you need to drop the report. Tell them it was a lover’s spat or something, I’m not really too concerned with how you spin it. But drop it, or I will deny your application and tell my colleagues that while you’re a gifted student, you stir up trouble.”

You watched your phone ring for the umpteenth time. The name of the restaurant popping up, Millie’s name, Joel’s name, Mary’s name. A text from each of them in quick succession.

But you were numb, still seated in the chair across from the desk in the classroom. The sun had set already, the warm lights of the lampposts scattered around the campus the only source. The door still resolutely closed after your professor had left after delivering his two choices for you.

Scrambling as if waking up from a dream, you rushed through the campus and made your way to work.

“Use your safety words!” You shouted, disguising the rising of your voice at the sharp sting of the knife blade slicing through your skin in the heated words. You watched as the slice from the knife turned white before the cells caught up and blood began to bead, spilling from it quickly. The cutting board became stained, and blood made a sticky webbed pattern of splatter on the blade.

“I said behind, it’s not my fault you didn’t hear me!” The new guy had the audacity to raise his voice back at you. His face contorting into something ugly as he dropped the façade of keeping his cool.

“I would’ve heard you if you did say it!” You snarled as you whipped around, the towel normally kept tucked at your hip wrapped tight around your hand. Blood blossomed through the fabric almost immediately. You brandished it at the man. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had proper etiquette!” 

“Don’t blame me for not knowing what the hell you’re doing!”

You took a step toward him, good hand about to fly out and grip the front of his shirt. But you were stopped by the sound of the office door opening. Joel Miller filled out the doorway completely, his broad shoulders nearly brushing each side and it would be so easy a reach for him to touch the top of it. He glared around the kitchen, eyes hardening when they landed on the sight of you clutching a towel to a bleeding hand.

You had snuck in the day before, after the stressful interaction with your professor. The restaurant had been too busy to steal away any time with him and you were gone before he had been able to step outside of the kitchen. Overwhelmed and on autopilot for most of the night as the words of your professor echoed in your mind. You had texted him a perfunctory message, saying you had a migraine and would see him the next day and then proceeded to call Nia and vent to her over two bottles of wine that had been too sweet for your empty stomach.

You had snuck in today too, knowing he had to make an order before service started. This was your first time seeing him directly in nearly three days.

“What’s with all the hollerin’?” His eyes were hard, the brown of them dark as he took in the scene, the emotion and tension in the air. The sight of you worked up and a snarl pulling up one corner of your lips.

Before you could even open your mouth, the new guy was speaking in a mocking tone.

“Little miss bartender herself, chef.”

“I wouldn’t have if you had used your fucking safety words.” The words were low, vicious as your patience wore thin. You didn’t need this, especially not today. It had been hard enough to get into the headspace for work, let alone show up, and now you’re injured because some asshole thought he didn’t need to let people know where he was at as he moved around the kitchen space.

The already silent kitchen seemed to grow even more quiet at the harsh words that had fallen from your mouth. Taken aback by the breaking of your normally cool and collected demeanor, in face of the attack all those weeks ago, this was the only instance where you showed your raw emotions. Joel had taken a few steps from the doorway and began to make his way toward your station. His feet stilled when you spoke, the way you did so giving him pause. The manner in which the words had fallen from you stoked real worry deep in his chest. You never raised your voice, let alone spit words out in such a heated way.

Save for that one time you ripped him a new one about his inappropriate behavior when you had first started helping out in his kitchen. You were always polite and professional, cordial and jovial with those you were on closer terms with. This….this was foreign and it had warning bells going off in his head immediately. He hadn’t even seen you slink into the kitchen, the last concrete contact he had with you about maybe being late for work.

He was about to say something, to break up the confrontation when the new guy decided to dig his heels in and make an even bigger mess out of the situation. Joel noticed the way you didn’t step back as the younger man’s features morphed into a cocky grin and he took a step closer to you, getting into your personal space.

“You knew I was behind you, sweetie, you always have an eye on me and push that nice ass out toward me. Don’t play dumb. I know you like what you see. Too bad I don’t waste my time on pathetic, easy girls like you.”

The silence in the kitchen was deafening, the tension thick as everyone stopped what they were working on and watched you two stare each other down. It was no secret he hadn’t made any friends in the three weeks he had been here, too full of himself for people to want to talk to him. From the glares being aimed at him now, the feelings of ire flowing from everyone else in the kitchen. Joel felt the nerve in his jaw jump as he accessed the scene alongside everyone. He wanted to step in, but he felt frozen on the spot, his emotions a whirlwind inside of him and his anger making his mind blank out.

“Fuck this.”

His words stung, as much as you wish they didn’t. The entire week taking its toll on you and culminating  into an overwhelming tidal wave that finally crested and made an impact. You felt angry, hot tears prick at your eyes. You hated that they were visible in the fluorescent lights of the kitchen and that everyone could see the shine of them as you felt your face heat up. That Joel could see them when you frantically glanced around the room, trying to keep them at bay.

A smug grin on the man’s face was the last thing you saw before you turned on your heel and walked out the back door. You let it slam behind you as you walked past the dumpsters and the recycling bins lined up along the back of the building and some of fence that lined the back lot for employee parking.

Digging the keys out from underneath your apron, you unhooked them from your belt loop and unlocked your car. You didn’t look back when you heard the door open, just hopped into the driver’s seat and drove off from the restaurant.

The waiting room was crowded with screaming children and crying babies. An assault on your already overwhelmed senses. At the sight of blood dripping down the length of your arm, a nurse at the front desk hopped up from her chair and tended to you before taking your information and telling you to wait for a room to get stitches. That it would be wait, they were busy. You nodded, taking your injured hand and pride and settled into a vinyl chair with silent tears trailing down your cheeks.

Alone.

Always alone.

Fighting for the smallest things, always fighting, always trying, always pushing yourself.

Seemingly for no reason.

Everyone had someone, waiting with them, waiting for them. But your apartment was empty, your friends at work. No text sent out to let them know what had happened because it would be hours before anyone saw it. Evening, before you would inevitably return to wallow in the confines of your own apartment to nurse your bruised ego and aching heart.

I think I need some space, I’m sorry.

The woosh of the message sending was lost in the sounds of the waiting room. A couple close by, whispering to each other. Looked like the guy had broken his arm, holding it tight to his body. The girl fussing over him in a way you wish someone would pay attention to you. Joel was…he was great. When not at work, when in your own little bubble of connection and creation together. But he was an absent texter, would call and leave messages on your phone during class times, but they were mostly silence followed by a huff before the dial tone.

You weren’t sure what that was about. He had far more going on in his life. A restaurant to run, family in town, family out of town, an old business he kept up with, friends he would see on a semi-regular basis.

But you?

Alone. No family nearby or in general. Nothing but school that seemed to have been a giant mistake to continue. A job field you hadn’t wanted to return to. A man who could only seem to give you half of himself when not at work. Different personal spaces and paces of life, shared moments that always came to an end far too soon only to be swept under the rug when clocked in.

And it hurt, dammit.

He didn’t respond. And you hadn’t expected him to. It was service hours, after all.

It hurt, even as your heart pleaded at you to give him a call and ask him to come sit with you.

You called the manager as you turned into your apartment complex parking lot. The gate squeaking as it closed behind your truck. The hospital had seen you in three hours, the tirage taking a while despite actively bleeding. But you had shiny new stitches that stretched from the top of your left index finger knuckle to the middle of your palm in a painful way, twelve all in all.

You explained to her that you didn’t want to file any complaints or for workers comp but would need the week off to get stitches and let the injury heal a bit before you handled anything confidently. She agreed to pay you for the missed shifts, not taking it out of your PTO as they hadn’t had any issues with your attendance in the year you had worked there. You thanked her and apologized for any inconvenience once again.

You ignored the sound of a car pulling up along the curb outside the gate, used to random people parking around to get to the concert hall a few blocks away or a visitor for one of the other many apartment buildings lining both sides of the street.

“Just…expect to be taken off of prep. Chef doesn’t take lightly to people who bail, you know that.”

“Heard, see ya in a week.”

You were just out of the shower, having tried to keep your injury out of the spray of the hot water. You had asked them not to wrap it up as you got discharged, telling them you were going to shower the second you got home. They sent home the appropriate dressings and instructions on how to keep it all clean and avoid infection.  You were comfy in a large T-shirt with some hiking graphics on the back of it and a pair of boy shorts, just stepping into your slippers when there was a knock on your door.

You sauntered over to it, tired from the day and a little loopy from the cortisone shot they had given you at the hospital. When you pulled the door open you were greeted by the large figure of Joel. The crown of curls around his head lit up from a light post further down by the curb.

“Wh-why are you here?” You let your shock show in the slight parting of your lips, the heavy exhale at the image of the man you were yearning for displayed right in front of you. As if you had summoned him with thoughts alone.

“You got hurt,” He shuffled on his feet, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck as he looked at the visible stitches on your left hand. His other one held a large paper bag, but you were more focused on the nervous energy he was exhibiting. As if he was worried he wasn’t supposed to be here, knew he wasn’t supposed to be here and hadn’t been able to keep away. You had been holding it close to your chest, not wanting to accidently knock it on anything as you walked around. “Wanted to check on ya.”

“I told you I needed some space.” You moved to begin swinging the door shut but his free hand shot out and stopped the motion easily, thick fingers and wide palm spanning the wood.

“I came to check on you.” He said with a little more force, reminiscent of him being in the kitchen as calling for hands or for dishes right that fucking second. When you didn’t move or say anything he cleared his throat and talked on, softer now. “Brought you some food. Your stomach is prolly turning from havin’ nothing in it when they gave you the shots needed for stitches. I know you might not be hungry or able to eat but it’ll be there for you when you want it.”

“How-“ You found yourself stepping back as he advanced into the doorway and then a few paces into the apartment. The front door opened up directly into the living room, the kitchen just beyond it, separated by a breakfast bar and the small doors that kept the washer and dryer hidden. He set a hefty paper bag on the couch underneath the window beside the door. The scent of greasy Chinese food made your stomach gurgle to life and your mouth water.

“Used to be a contractor, seen my fair share of bad injuries. There was a lot of blood left on the cutting board, just figured.” He looked around over the top of your head and took in the colorful but controlled palette of your belongings before his gaze landed back on you. Reading something in the space you couldn’t quite figure out. “Didn’t get a text from you, but if you really want me to, I’ll leave right this second.”

Your eyes softened, seeing how earnest he was. All you could do was shake your head, heart thudding in your chest at the realization that your text hadn’t been sent. A silent thank you to shitty hospital cell service.

The sound of the door shutting and locking behind him was the beginning of a quiet evening curled up on the couch with him and whispered words of comfort against your temple as his moustache tickled against your skin.

The shattering of glass was loud, jolting you from your sleeping position curled up in front of Joel, his arms around you and his legs tangled with your own. He was up on his feet in seconds, telling you to stay in the bedroom while he cautiously peered into the small living room. He shuffled on his feet as Sweet Pea came hurling into the room, puffed up as big as she could get, eyes blown out. She jumped atop the bed and you watched Joel’s back disappear in what little light from the street lamps filtered in through your sheer curtains and thick blinds.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Joel was hollering, the bat you had set aside just outside the bedroom door all those weeks ago still there. He grabbed a hold of it and you could hear him swinging, making contact with something metallic. The crack of the wood was loud, making you jump to your feet and you scrambled to get your phone from where it was buried in the sheets.

There was a yelp, followed by the crunching of glass and harsh breathing. The operator was calmly trying to get your attention, hearing the commotion from the other side of the line as you had put it on speaker. The sounds of heavy thuds on the metal stairs outside rattled the walls and your dizzy head. Joel seemed to have followed them, a second set of steps sounding right behind the first.

“Ma’am, are you safe? What’s going on?”

“B-break in, someone broke into my apartment.”

“Is the person still there?”

The line was silent as she waited for an answer, the heavy footsteps of someone coming back up toward the apartment startled you. Hands flailing to catch Sweet Pea as she jumped into your arms. The phone clattered to the hardwood floor.

“Ma’am? Are you still there? Are you okay?”

“My-my boyfriend is-“ You bent down to pick it up, cuddling the small creature close to your chest as she shook in your arms. Joel walked back into the room then, blood smeared on the bat and sporting a gash to his cheek. “He scared them off.”

“Ma’am, I’m sending a police car, what’s your address?”

Joel took over the situation as they arrived, meeting them down at the gate. He walked them through the event, told them the car he had seen the guy rush to and then sped off in. The glimpses of dirty blonde hair underneath a cap, the sound of his voice reminiscent of the one he had protected you from at a bar all that time ago. Of the open investigations you both had over the encounter at his restaurant.

They seemed to take all the crumbs and piece them together, saying it was most likely a stalking situation and you had dropped the mug of tea you had just made at the word. It had been advised that a car were to patrol the street on a more regular basis, but ultimately that you should stay with someone for a while, until things calmed down and your window was repaired.

Hours later, as the sky began to lighten from the deep blue of nightfall to the pastel oranges of early morning, you and Joel found yourself tucked back into bed and curled up with each other. Shielding each other from the rest of the world.

“You gonna tell me what happened at your meeting?” Joel’s voice was careful as he regarded you across the cab of his own truck. He was driving toward his house just outside the downtown area. A suburb that hadn’t felt the effects of gentrification that had so many others had fallen into. It was quant and cozy, neighbors friendly with each other after living there for so long. A good home for his daughters as he raised one and then adopted the other in their teens, sharing the safe place he had crafted for one daughter with another who had never known such a thing. A kind and caring man, now offering to take care of you in the wake of your personal space feeling tainted.

Sweet pea was in your lap, curled up in your crossed legs, preventing Joel from being able to rest a hand atop your thigh while he drove, both hands firmly on the steering wheel. He had been stealing glances your way since you both loaded up, along with three packed bags. Two for you and one for the small cat, with the promise to get her a little box after dropping her off.

Your demeanor shifted from relaxed and boneless in his passenger seat to rigid, shoulders pulling taught as you sat as straight as you could, lower back aching with the pressure after having sat for so long in cheap, hard waiting room chairs the night before. The hot sensation of embarrassment and shame bubbled up your chest to your throat, preventing words even if you had them.

You shook your head, focused on the world passing by in a blur outside the window.

He seemed to realize it was the wrong moment, to have asked such a thing from you because one of his hands was reaching over and tangling with your own.

“That’s okay, whenever you’re ready, yeah?” He chewed on his bottom lip, coming to a stop at a red light. “Or even not at all, okay, if you don’t want. Whatever you need, baby, I’m gonna try my best, alright?”

You nodded, not able to meet his earnest stare, you both startled when a horn honked behind his truck, urging him to drive through the now green light.

“I’m here for you, you gotta know that. Even if you don’t ask me.” He spoke as he turned into a quiet neighborhood, just outside the bustle of the city. A suburb that reminded you of the one you grew up in, the one you hadn’t been back home to in a decade. Wasn’t welcome back to in wake of family drama and endless fighting.

“Did you know my dad got remarried when I was young?”

“No, darlin’, I didn’t.” He said softly, unaware of why this was what you decided to tell him. But he listened all the same, as he parked in a clear drive and helped you down out of the passenger side of the truck. Making sure that Sweet Pea was cuddled tight to you and safely ushered through the doorway into his home.

“She didn’t like me, the woman my dad had been dating. Said…said I was so smart it was blinding. That I’d never find a man who would want to be with me because I always intimidated people. Too independent, too heavy to attract anyone, too much of all the wrong things.”

You stood in the threshold of the living room, watching as your small cat explored the new space. With a cautious curiosity, as if worried about hidden threats behind every corner. Chirping as she went, looking back at you every few minutes to make sure you hadn’t abandoned her.

“I don’t know who this woman is, but she’s wrong, darlin’. She had no business telling you those things at such a young age.”

“If only she could see me now,” You scoffed as your stitches throbbed underneath thick bandages, pain dulled but breaking through the medicine you needed to take once again. “Got a stalker who won’t leave me alone and a professor who deals in ultimatums.”

The bags he still held dropped to the floor and he was suddenly in front of you, his hands on your shoulders as he gave you all of his attention.

Your eyes met his and the words came tumbling out in a rush.

“I was so stupid to think that she was just spewing bullshit, because she’s right. Smart mouth getting me in trouble, getting me into situations where I’m sleeping with my goddamn boss, barely scraping by for a degree that doesn’t mean anything now. He’s-he’s going to tell the entire board that I’m trouble and they’re both right. I always mess everything up, it’s why I’m alone. Can’t disappoint people who aren’t in your life, right?”

You chuckled wetly, face hot and hands shaking as Joel carefully took them in his own.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice was firm, his eyes focused as he brought you to his chest and held you. “Don’t go saying any of that alright. She’s not right. She don’t know you, what you made of yourself. It doesn’t matter what she thinks, what matters is how you feel.”

“I feel like she’s right, she got my dad to believe her. Haven’t spoken to him since I moved out at eighteen. But not from their house, I had been dumped with my grandparents because she wanted kids of her own and it was either space for me or space for them.

A-and it feels like all the hard work I spent years focusing on is all up to a man who has all the power. The ability to spin this entire situation to his needs and wants, to protect those in his care. Everyone has someone looking out for them, helping them, guiding them. But…but, I don’t…I don’t have anyone…”

Your breathing was slow and deep. Controlled as you calmly spiraled, mania from the past few days winding down into a resolute conclusion of bitter acceptance for the things that have happened and taking the blame for them because there was nowhere else to place it.

“You have me,” Your name was a plea on his lips and all you could do was cling to him as he pulled you into his chest. It was easy to fall into him, but you pulled away just as quickly as you had reached out. For his warmth and reassurance, his kind words that you didn’t deserve. “You have me, okay?”

“You-you’re my boss. And he was right, told me I’m just a messy girl who likes to play hard to get. That’s why he’s going to tell the entire board that I’m unfit for the internship, that I’m trouble to have in class, a risk that shouldn’t be considered. A waste of potential crumbling because I’m too self-righteous and tried to stand up for myself in that bar.”

“Look. No, you look at me and hear me okay.” He grasped your shoulders again and pivoted you from where you had begun to turn your attention away from him, feeling utterly hollowed out and bared for him to see all the ugliness you hid inside the beneath your skin and bones. All laid out for him to pick through like a predator to find the best parts and take take take what he wanted. But it was all rotten, it was all tainted, turned. Bad.

“I will file the appropriate paperwork in both our files, have Mary look it over and sign as a witness, stating that we are in a consensual relationship. That there were no contingencies of promised payment, position, or promotion regarding the development of it. I swear to you, baby, I will do it. To show you that it’s important to me, that you’re important to me. That this isn’t just some fling.”

“I was so close,” Your voice broke, hoarse and tapered off into a sound that didn’t sit right in your ears. It was startling how foreign it sounded. As if the woman speaking was someone else and not yourself, feeling small and childish and helpless as you watched your bags get taken from a car and placed around you by a woman smiling brightly and a man who wouldn’t look directly at you. Spoken words of, ‘this is for the best’.

“I was so close.” The woman repeated, and you felt your knees give as the weight of her words hit you and your vision faded out.

This is for the best.

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dividers by the lovely @/saradika / saradika-graphics

[ihopesocomic]

This is all forgetting the fact that a single given chatbot ai on average uses more electricity in a day than your entire house. Chatgpt uses more electricity than several STATES.

And when people say "corporations are more responsible for environmental damage than the average consumer" it also doesn't mean you have free reign to deride an ai's energy consumption while also still using it. Chat bots are not a necessity.

It's literally fuckin everywhere too. Automated voice calls, customer services, web browser applications, p*rn bots, crypto mining, job offers, ticket sales. If it's taking that much electricity, it's taking that much in water resources as well.

It's taking jobs from writers, journalists, musicians, artists, graphic designers, clothing designers, video game producers, voice actors, actor-actors. And y'all just think it's good ol fashioned good times just because you're "talking" to a fuckin anime character. Get real, there's actual damage being done by your so-called "hobby".

The irreparable damage this is doing to human culture is insane too. People having actual emotional attachments to /robots/ like this is some sci-fy novel. People are literally giving NPC behavior. I cannot count the number of people over the last year we've blocked because we thought they were bots but they weren't?? I thought I was losing my mind. Not to mention that third places have been stolen from all of us and corporations are literally justifying how much better it is for everyone because no one has to interact with anyone ever? (And we all know corporations only have our best interests in mind /sarcasm.) And a lot of y'all are just... fine with this because, what, you're socially awkward? Do you have any idea what the cost of having that mentality is?

I know half these people are actually lazy and think the creative process is a fuckin chore, but some of these people are just so vehemently against the human experience that they don't even stop to think about what they're even arguing about. And don't get me started on the fuckin clowns over at NaNoWriMo who say if you're against Ai, you're ableist and probably racist too. Actual circus performances over here.

This is not the direction anyone wants ai to go in. And pretending that what you do is harmless is adding to the problems at hand. I don't mean to seem insensitive to peoples' situations but you're not exactly being sensitive to the rest of us. The internet is incomprehensibly huge. I guarantee you that you will find like-minded people as yourself. You just have to try. Like actually try. - Cat

[scarhalo]

Thoughts on the Enrichment Applicability Assessment

TMAGP EP 9 SPOILERS AHEAD

UPDATE: The TMAGP notion board on my pinned post has now been updated for ep. 9! Go check it out :) OOOOH BOY now this is exciting stuff. So the Magnus Institue, or whoever was routing through their files (this could be a whole other tangent...starkwall anyone?) was running artifact studies... and we have very little information about it. As of yet, this is what we know about the classifications of the cursed dice from this episode:

"Viability as subject – none Viability as agent – low Viability as catalyst – medium."

Recommend referral to Catalytics for Enrichment Applicability Assessment.

Here is my running theory...

Alchemical theory of artifact classification A subject is pretty straight forward, it is the base material on which alchemical operations are performed. Agent and catalyst, however, stood out to me specifically for being similar chemical terms, with one key difference. A catalyst is always an agent but not all agents are catalysts. An agent is a substance/compound that facilitates a chemical reaction. A catalyst is a substance/compound that increases the rate of a reaction, and is not typically consumed in said reaction. This leads me to believe these artifacts were being studied for the purpose of being used as ritualistic vessels or weapons. An agent could aid in a ritual, but does not have the power to efficiently carry one out. A catalyst on the other hand could very well be the key player in a ritual.

In the context of the dice, it would make sense for them not to be a subject. They seem to be conducting and changing the world around them, not so much acting as a vessel (for example, I believe the web table in TMA used to bind the NotThem would be a pretty good subject, as it actively had actions performed unto it rather than it interacting with the world). Furthermore, the dice would work as an agent, as they can take a supportive role. But due to them being, you know... unpredictable, it would be difficult for them to take a facilitation role. A catalyst however, is much more likely since the dice are event initiators.

Now onto the catalytic enrichment applicability assessment Enrichment studies are done on living beings, in which the researchers hypothesize adding something will change the subjects behavior. What could they possibly add to change the behavior of the dice? I believe they are (were, when they had them) actively feeding the dice. ANYWAYS; currently wondering where the dice are. Now that we know these studies were happening, where did the artifacts go when the place burnt down? They must have been taken and relocated or scattered. Maybe the OIAR has them...