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viking-raider · 2 years ago

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Sy's Therapy Barn

Summary: Austin Syverson is newly retired from the Army and struggling to cope with his PTSD. Until he decides to take a chance on a hobby, most wouldn't think could help, and the person there to help teach him how to do it.

Pairing: Syverson/Reader

Word Count: 5k

Rating: M - Quick-Burn, Language, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of PTSD, Combat Fatigue, Trauma, Wine drinking, Flirting, Support System, Movie Quotes, Leap of Faith, Mentions (but no depictions) of Mental Illness, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, SMUT - Light, P in V

Inspiration: I saw this Instagram video of a handsome, buff gentleman that ran a pottery business and promoted it on the site.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed it. I am so sorry to any Pottery people for butchering it.

Syverson wouldn't lie, even though he had thought the hobby was stupid, the first time he thought about it. But, upon seeing a poster at an outdoor market he had decided to attend one, warm Dallas weekend, to get out of the house. Something inside of Sy had urged him to save the number in his phone, before finding the ale stand.

It wasn't until almost a month later, after waking up in the dead of night. He laid curled up in a ball, hugging his knees and struggling to breath. With the blankets and pillows thrown off the king-sized bed, and the black fitted sheet beneath him drenched in his sweat. Aika pressed against his back and whimpering at her owner's distress. It was then that Sy knew he needed something more, other than just denial, the gun range and booze to deal with his PTSD and Combat Fatigue.

He wasn't about to go sit down on some squeaky metal, folding chair, in the basement of some random religious church, listening to other Vets talk about their combat experience. Everyone nodding their heads and offering sympathy and the Word of God. Sy had stopped believing in God over a decade ago. Because, how could some magical man in the sky, with some grand plan for you, before and after you died, allow such bullshit evil into the world.

He didn't want sympathy, far from it.

Austin Syverson, also didn't do sympathy.

So, he pulled up the number from the outdoor market and gave the business a call.

“Mini's Pottery Haven, how can I help you?” A cheery voice chimed on the other end.

Sy let out a hard breath. “Hi, I saw your poster at a market, a couple weeks ago, for a pottery class.” He said, rubbing a palm over his buzzed head, feeling stupid for calling a pottery business, thinking it would help him, in any way, with his trauma. “I was wondering, if you're still doing classes?”

“Yes, we are!” She confirmed, happily. “We have one tonight, with two spots left, if you'd like to join it.”

“Oh!” Sy started, surprised, not expecting one so soon, hoping for a day to work up the nerve to call her back and cancel. “How much is it?”

“Thirty dollars, for just one person, and sixty dollars for a couple.” She informed him, pressing her phone to her ear and bringing up the planner on her computer. “You can pay when you arrive at the class.” She added, distractedly.

Sy paced his kitchen for a moment, before pausing and straightening his back. “I'll take one of the spots and pay the thirty, when I arrive.”

“Excellent! Can I have your name, please?”

“Syverson.” He answered, out of pure habit.

“All right, we look forward to seeing you tonight, and what you create!” She told him, her voice upbeat and optimistic, like she expected Sy to be the next Michelangelo, before hanging up.

“The boys would lose their shit, if they ever find out I tried pottery.” Sy said, stuffing his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

Later that night, Sy found himself standing out front of the humble, little pottery shop, the full window front was bright from the lights inside, which was flowing with people, all standing around chatting with each other and holding glasses of wine.

“At least, they have booze.” Sy commented to himself.

“First time?” A soft voice asked, from behind him.

“Huh?” He frowned, turning around to find a gorgeous woman standing behind him, a large bag slung over her shoulder, as she regarded him with a kind expression. “Oh, yeah. You?” He asked, trying to be polite.

“Naw, I've been getting my hands messy with clay for years.” You smiled at him, patting your bag. “I assume you're here for the class.” You asked, motioning towards the shop.

“I am.” Sy nodded, licking his lips. “Just working up the nerve to go inside.” He explained to you.

“Ah, yeah. We pottery nerds can be dangerous.” You teased, smirking up at him. “You make one reference to Ghost in there and they'll turn you into a clay mold. If not, pelt you out of the shop with lumps of it.” You giggled, moving by him to step up onto the curb and grab the door handle.

A laugh rumbled out of Sy's broad chest, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I'll make sure to keep the Ghost quotes to myself then.” He said, turning his sparkling blue eyes towards you.

“Well, no time like the present.” You told him, pulling the door open and holding it for him.

“That's true.” He nodded, his smile softly fading as he joined you on the sidewalk, stopping beside you for a moment. “Thanks for the pep talk.” He said, giving you a gentle nod, before going inside.

The place was a buzz with voices as he paused by the counter, taking out his wallet to pay for his admission for the night's class. He glanced over his shoulder to see where you'd gone, but you had vanished somewhere into the crowd. Shrugging, figuring you'd paid in advance or had some sort of membership, he handed over his bank card to Mini, the owner of the business, who was a sweet looking, elderly woman, dressed in a loose and colorful, bohemian strap dress. Taking his card and the Hello, My Name Is: sticker she handed back with it, Sy turned away, spotting the small wine station, also surrounded by numerous black sharpies. He headed over, scribbling Sy, on his sticker and poured himself a glass of some kind of red wine, before finding somewhere quiet to stand, to wait for the class to start.

As he stood there, sipping his wine and looking at a wall of finished clay figurines, cups and other knick knacks, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Clearing his throat, he glanced sideways, figuring you were checking him out, which he was more than fine with. But he discovered it was another woman giving him eye-candy. She was tall, with bleach-blonde hair and in a hot-pink tracksuit, she felt out of place for a pottery shop. Though, Sy knew he shouldn't be one to speak, standing there in a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, that had been to war with him, tight blue jeans, a pair of cowboy boots, with a black stetson cowboy hat.

The way she lifted her wine glass, however, suggested she wanted to jump his bones.

Which only amused the retired Army Captain.

“All right, ladies and gentleman!” Mini called, clapping her hands together and coming around the counter to regard her customers. “If we can all head towards the other end of the shop, where all the potter's wheels and everything are. We can start the class.” She smiled, motioning everyone to the back.

Everyone moved to the back in a messy, single-file line, still sipping the rest of their wine and chatting with each other. The woman in the pink tracksuit lagging back to walk with Sy, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Ma'am.” He acknowledged her, touching the brim of his hat, but didn't give her much else.

“What's a man like you doing in a pottery class?” She asked, biting the corner of her lip.

Sy licked his lips. “I got nothing better to do.” He said, not willing to admit the real reason he was there to her.

“I'm sure a big, strong, handsome man like you could find something to do.” She insinuated, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Pottery is just fine, thanks.” Sy replied, offering her a weak smile.

“Everyone, please find a pottery wheel and it doesn't matter which one.” Mini said, motioning to the dozen or so pottery wheels in a circle, a round lump of clay already waiting on them to be shaped.

Sy waited until almost everyone was seated, not wanting to take the chance of getting stuck sitting next to the woman hitting on him, far from that mood tonight. So, taking up a pottery wheel and grabbing the provided apron, he took off his hat and set it on a shelf behind his wheel, and slipped on the apron. Sy chuckled, sitting down on the comically small stool before the wheel, as he balanced his large, muscular body on it, smirking up at the rest of the group; seeing some of them sit on the stool like they'd done it a million times and others wobble.

“The first thing we're going to do, before we start shaping our clay,” Mini began explaining, sitting at wheel herself, apron on and perched on her stool, like the forty-plus year pottery maker she was. “is to assign our first timers, helpers. I will be giving instructions and so forth, but your helper will be there for you, just in case you need a refresher or get frustrated.” She told the group, looking around at everyone. “But just remember, just like us, human beings, we are all unique and beautiful. It doesn't matter how many times your clay refuses to shape into what your mind's eye thinks it should, or tears apart, or even if it doesn't bake right in the kiln. It is still beautiful! You still brought it into this world with your own two hands, and you should be proud of that. Because it's something no one else in this room did.”

Sy blinked at her, slightly taken aback by her statement. So used to Army instructors drilling into him about, if it's not perfect, you're dead or your buddy next to you, is.

“So, helpers, I'll let you pick your person. You've all worked here before, so you know how to identify them.”

“And how do you do that?” Someone blurted out, making Mini and the helpers chuckle.

“Well, that's one way for us to find you.” One of the helpers quipped in an Australian accent, moving across the room to said person. “But, it's the name tags, mate, or Ryan, I should say.” He smirked, offering out his hand to the newcomer. “I'm Joel.”

“Those of us here that don't have a name tag, are old pros.” Mini smiled, resting her forearms on the edge of her potter's wheel, while the rest of the helpers spread out.

“Good to see you made it all the way into the building.”

Sy looked over his shoulder and grinned up at you. “Yeah, I had a little bit of help.” He replied, glad, and a bit surprised, to see you were one of the helpers.

“Well, you're about to get some more help.” You said, glancing at his name tag. “Sy.”

He felt a lump lodge in his throat as you said his name. “That's great.” He rasped back. “I'm going to need it. These hands have only known how to do one thing, for the last twenty years.” He told you, holding up his calloused mitts.

“Oh, you got good hands for clay shaping.” You said, taking one of them in both of yours. “I'm sure we can teach these pups a new trick or two.”

“Can you teach this ol' pup any?” Sy asked, smiling at you.

“I might.” You nodded, pulling a stool up beside him. “Let's listen to Mini first, then we can find out what you want to make that clay into.” You told him, giving him an encouraging smile, that cracked open the door to a place he had tried to keep shut.

“Everyone have their partner?” Mini asked, looking around, then nodded. “Good! Now, you're going to learn your proper posture for molding.” She began, leaning forward and started her instruction for the next several minutes.

“Christ, I don't know if I can remember all that.” Sy said, blowing out a breath and shaking his head at his mound of clay. “I'm just a simple country boy, fresh out of the Army.”

You giggled beside him, lightly patting him on the back. “That's why you got me.” You reminded him, sweetly. “Now, what do you want to make? And, I swear if you say a dildo, I will get up and leave.” You warned him, seriously.

“Have people actually asked you that?” He frowned, cocking his head at you.

“Yes, more often than you might think.” You huffed, shaking your head. “I'll make anything else though.”

“To be honest with you,” Sy started, frowning down at the clay and shaking his head. “I don't know what to make. I've never been the artistic type. I always failed art class back in school.”

“Well, that's the wonder of art, and clay for that matter, Sy.” You told him, softly. “You can make whatever you want. You don't need to be artsy for it. What's the first thing that comes to your mind? Anything at all.”

“My dog.” He blurted out, biting his lip, feeling silly for it.

“All right, what about a dog bowl?” You suggested, tossing out the first dog related thing that came to your mind.

“Could we make a bowl?” Sy asked, looking over at you.

“Absolutely!” You nodded, grinning. “If you wanna make a bowl for your doggo, then we'll make one. I'll use all ten years of my clay making experience to help.”

“All right, a bowl for Aika, it is.” Sy nodded back, inspired.

“That's a sweet name.” You commented, watching Sy position himself, much as Mini instructed, then drizzle a little bit of water onto the clay and cup it in his large hands, almost hiding it completely in his palms as he started to work the wheel with his foot. “Good, that's a great speed. Keep it up. Little less pressure though.” You reminded him, watching the clay start to pancake a bit.

“Sorry.” He apologized, letting off on it.

“You're all right.” You answered, shaking your head. “So, what made you try out pottery?” You asked, reaching out, instinctively, to add a little more water.

Sy was quiet for a long moment, playing with and shaping his clay, watching the thick residue from it cover his fingers and palms. While trying to find a way to answer. He could give you the same answer he'd given the pink tracksuit lady or he could be honest. Spying you from the corner of his eye, he noticed you weren't waiting for a reply, not being pushy or intrusive. You had simply asked him the question and given him the space to answer it, when and if he wanted to with no hard feelings.

It was a breath of fresh air to him, just like feeling the wet clay in his hands. Knowing he was creating something, not harming it.

“I was hoping it would help me,” He finally answered you, licking his lips, deciding to be honest. “With my combat PTSD.” He added softer, waiting for your reaction.

“It can be quite calming.” You admitted, no ill reaction on your face. “It can also be rather frustrating.” You chuckled, with a smirk. “I about tossed the piece I was working on this morning, when one of the sides collapsed on me. I'd only been working on it for six hours.”

“Six hours!” Sy exclaimed, sitting back to look at you more steadily.

“You suffer for the art sometimes.” You told him, with amusement at his expression. “But, it's well worth it in the end. Most of the time, at least.”

“Christ, I hope this doesn't take that long.” He said, looking down at the weirdly shaped, almost oblong bit of clay on his wheel.

You looked around the room, before leaning close to Sy. “I think you're wonderful, Oda Mae.” You whispered into his ear, so none of your friends could hear you, knowing the complaints they'd give you for the reference after the class.

A huge smile crossed Sy's face and he howled with laughter, catching everyone's attention.

“I crack a good joke, we all know it!” You told them, grinning with guilt.

“I like you.” Sy said, once everyone's attention went back to their own station. “You're the first person that's made me laugh, like that, since I came home on retirement from the Army. A year ago.”

“Oh yeah?” You grinned, feeling a hot rush through your body that wasn't the glass of wine you had earlier. “Well, if you think I can crack a good joke, you'll see how good of a pottery teacher I am.”

“You take any students?” Sy blurted out, before he knew what he was thinking.

You floundered, mouth hanging open. “Um, no.” You admitted, shocked he'd asked, then saw the light start to fade in his blue eyes. “But I could consider it.” You said, quickly. “Especially if it helps you cope with your PTSD.”

“I think it just might.” He proclaimed, finding himself smitten with both pottery and you.

You laughed, throwing up your arm as Sy flicked the wet clay on his fingers at you. “Austin!” You tried to duck the mucky droplets as they splattered all over your apron, the side of your arm, face and hair, still giggling.

“You were looking a bit dry over there!” He guffawed, grinning at you. “What the heck, are you shapin', anyhow?” He asked, balancing himself back on his stool and eyeing your kaolin clay, seeing the strange, cup-like shape you had going.

“I don't really know.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders at the grayish-yellow clay before you. “I'm just trying to understand it, and make something. That will hopefully not crack in the kiln. If I ever get around to firing it.” You told him, leaning forward again, feeling the soreness in your lower spine and forearms from working in that position for so long. “What about you?” You asked, cocking a brow at Sy, without looking away from what you were starting to consider your Frankenstein.

“Another ceramic grenade cup.” You smirked, curving your thumb into the center of the clay. “Or, what was that tea pot you made?” You asked, giggling as you recalled pulling the craft out of the kiln.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Sy replied, sounding disgruntled.

You laughed, nodding your head. “That's right, it was supposed to be a turt—Austin!” You shrieked, as his big, wet clay covered mitt swiped across your face. “Oh my god!”

“It was nothing, woman.” He huffed at you, with mischievous eyes, as he sat back down. “But I do have a question for you, babe.”

“Oh?” You replied, standing up to wipe the streak off your face before it dried.

“I was thinking,” He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he continued to work his clay. “I still have a large chunk of my retirement payment from the Army, just sitting in my bank account.” He said, scowling as one side of the clay started to collapse.

“All right.” You nodded, staring down at him, as you stood between your two pottery wheels in the garage of Sy's house, situated on the ten acres he owned.

“I've been considering,” He licked his lips and sat back, to look up at you, wanting to see your face when he said aloud what had been on his mind for the last year and a half. “I want to open up my own shop.”

You blinked at him a couple times, processing his words. “Your own pottery shop?” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah, I want to open a pottery barn, to help Vets, like myself. Hell, to help anyone with PTSD or trauma. It helped me through so many nights of episodes and flashbacks.” He explained to you, babbling out the idea that had been swirling around him, and looked back up. “You helped me.” He whispered quietly, before shaking his head and squeezing the clay on his wheel.

“It's a stupid idea.”

Watching him destroy the piece he'd just spent the last hour and a half working on, stung you, but it hurt you more to hear him say his idea was stupid. You thought it was incredible. That it was so thoughtful and sweet of him to want to share a hobby that had given him so much in the last two years.

You were flattered to be a part of that journey with him, as well.

Your big bear.

“I think it's a terribly-” You sat down in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “good idea, Austin Syverson.” You declared, kissing him lovingly. “And if I hear anyone say otherwise, I'll pelt them with wet clay, until they think it is.”

A bright smile pulled across Sy's face as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “So, you'll come be my first employee?” He asked, nosing the side of your neck, smelling your perfume mixed with the earthy scents of pottery, tinged with a light sheen of sweat from how warm it was in the garage.

“Oh, I'm going to work for you, am I?” You cooed, amused. “What position, do I get?”

“Hmm.” He hummed, pressing his lips to your skin. “How about the head of pottery?”

“What's your job going to be?” You asked, eyes fluttering shut.

“I'm the boss.” He chuckled, tugging on your ear. “I'll have a bunch of jobs. But there's no one I trust more than you, with all your infinite wisdom of pottery, to run that area.” He told you, his hands pushing under your tank top. “I do only have two years of experience, compared to your thirteen.”

“Oh, laying it on thicker than a glaze, Captain.” You purred, feeling his fingers leave trails of drying clay on the skin of your back. “But I do like the sound of it. Do I get to boss you around during classes?” You asked, cupping the back of his head in your palm and rubbing the short hair there with your thumb, while your other hand dripped to the strings of his camouflage apron.

Sy smirked, giving your neck a sharp bite and making you gasp. “You boss me around already.”

“I do not!” You huffed, with an amused flash in your eyes, pushing his head back to look up at you.

“Whatever you say, my darling.” He replied, blue eyes sparkling.

“That's what I thought.” You smirked, kissing the bridge of his nose.

Pulling his hands from your tank top and gripping you by the hips, Sy pushed you up and pulled your legs across his lap, so you straddled him. You moaned at the straining bulge in his black sweatpants, pressing down against it through your short-shorts, sucking lightly on your bottom lip.

“What are we calling your little pottery business?” You hummed, reaching between your bodies to slip into the waistband of his sweats, finding his thick manhood and gliding your hand along it, drawing out a shivering sigh out from him.

“I don't know.” He rasped, clawing at your hips and the band of your shorts, leaving red marks in their wake. “Maybe, Sy's Therapy Barn or something.” He puffed, losing focus on the idea of running a business and growing more interested in tearing your shorts and underwear off.

“I like it.” You nodded, slipping off his lap, smiling at his hands grabbing to bring you back, but stood and took your shorts and panties off, before straddling his thick thighs again. “Rolls of the tongue and easy to remember.” You told him, taking his burning shaft in your hand, stroking him firmly as you guided him towards your glistening entrance.

“Mmhm.” Sy mumbled, his mouth latching onto your collarbone. “Whatever you say, babe.”

You chuckled, caressing your free hand over his head and gripped his shoulder, using it as leverage to sink down onto him, with a soft sigh and leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I love you, Syverson.”

“Ditto.” He rumbled back, wrapping his arms around you and locking you against him.

“Welcome to Sy's Therapy Barn!” You grinned as a man came through the door, the bell above it chiming through the building, his ripped muscles making the fabric of his Under Armor shirt scream, his tattooed arms showing below the short sleeves. “Are you here for the classes or to look about?” You asked, motioning around the grand shop with beaming pride.

You and Sy had found a thousand square foot warehouse, filling it with all your pottery and therapy needs and dreams. Sy had even decided to go to school and become a licensed therapist, allowing him to help the people coming into the Therapy Barn better. While they got their hands cupped around the little mounds of clay, during your classes, so they could shape it into whatever their minds wanted or needed.

Part of the warehouse was set up with kilns of all sizes and kinds, tall and wide shelves to hold pour molds and drying creations. While another section was where you and Sy held the classes for the therapy groups, either for former or active Combat Service people or, those who Sy referred to as Regulars, members of the public who hadn't served. All of them there to try and remedy their PTSD, trauma, depression, loss, domestic violence or anything else along those lines.

People that didn't require therapy were also welcome, of course.

But the two of you catered to those in need specifically, and so far, business was booming. Sy had gone to the several local Veteran Centers in the Dallas area with fliers promoting the business's program, as well as the VFW Canteens and posting on the internet. Even calling some of his old comrades. Sy had been worried and a bit skeptical with your first pottery class, sure that no one was going to show up to it. However, when the time rolled around, the bell above the front door started dinging with customers, most of them were middle aged or elderly, but there were several your and Sy's age, looking apprehensive.

It made you smile to see that look on their face, it was the exact expression you'd seen on Sy's face, that night you met in the parking lot of Mini's Pottery Barn, before he discovered the magic of forming clay. You always looked forward to seeing it change into the wonder of how amazing it is, to see your brave Captain use his fresh Bachelor's Degree to help them work through the same struggles he had. The struggles you had woken up at one or two in the morning, to find Sy in the garage, in nothing, but the shorts he'd gone to bed in, hunched over his pottery wheel, his muscles tight and teeth gritted, but his hands cupped gently around the piece of clay he was working. Trying to chase away whatever he had been awoken by.

“I'm here for the class, with Dr. Syverson.” He replied, looking around uneasily, like he expected a bomb to go off in one of the teapots you'd crafted and had on sale in the front window of the shop.

“That's great!” You grinned at him, trying to be open and encouraging towards him. “The class will start in ten minutes. You can either take a seat or have a look around. There's coffee, tea and water on the table with some cupcakes and snicker-doodle cookies, so help yourself.”

“No booze.” He mumbled, eyeing the table.

“No,” You answered, giving him an emphatic look. “Some of our potter's are recovering and sober, so we don't offer it.” You explained to him, glancing over at one of your regulars with a nod. “To repress the urge to relapse.”

He looked at you for a moment. “That's—actually, very thoughtful of you.” He said, blinking as it came over him.

“We do our best.” Sy said, appearing from the back. “Pleasure to meet ya.” He offered his hand to the other man. “Captain Syverson, 1st battalion, 3rd SFG(a). Also Dr. Austin Syverson, the co-owner of this here Therapy Barn.” He introduced himself, always giving his classifications to the Vets, knowing how at ease it made them and started that thread of a bond with him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Captain.” He replied, shaking Sy's hand. “Lieutenant Daniel Burton, 3rd recon battalion, for the Marines.”

“Well, it's good to meet you, Lieutenant.” Sy nodded, then smiled over at you, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. “I'm sure my fiancee has given you the introduction to our business.”

“That she has.” Daniel nodded, giving you a kind smile. “Though, I'll admit, I'm a little apprehensive as to how this is going to help me get straightened out. I watched some videos on pottery on Youtube and it just doesn't seem like much.”

You and Sy looked at each other, a smile and knowing look on each other's faces.

“It seems that way. I thought the same thing, myself, at first.” Sy confessed, a winking at you. “But, all you have to do is take all your emotions. All your pain, all your love, all your passion and all your rage and work it into that bit of clay we give you on that pottery wheel and the rest comes with it.”

You looked at Sy, it had become a thing between the two of you, and in doing so, that line had become his motto. It had become part of the business's motto, and few people actually caught the reference. But that was all right. The two of you still got through to people in the end. Saving them from their dark past through horrible movie quotes, a man that took a chance on a hobby and your skill with moving clay, sculpting a life and a business out of it.

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eugenedebs1920 · 8 months ago

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One of the beautiful things about how our representative democratic constitutional republic works is the varying opinions. The array of views and theories, the proposals and approaches, from the patchwork of ideology America has attracted, gives us the opportunity to select the peak ideas of so many backgrounds and cultures. Many of the founders, Washington in particular, were against the formation of political parties. Because of such contrasting views this was unavoidable.

There used to be a dozen or more political parties in the U.S. Wigs, federalist, socialists, labor and others brought their perspectives and that of their constituency to Congress. This enabled a more zoomed in viewpoint of the issues across the nation.

Our Population in this country, and the planet as a whole, has BOOMED! With it, so have perspectives, concerns and opinions. It becomes harder and harder to address everyone’s needs when the diversity and size of those you’re representing is so vast. This becomes even more burdensome when there’s red and blue to choose from. The puppet on the left or the puppet on the right.

I’ll have to do more research into why exactly but some time between the beginning on the twentieth century and 1940’s the cluster of political parties that had existed before pretty much consolidated in the two that dominate now. Sure, there are other parties out there, but not with much influence, or power as there was before the Second World War.

From a business perspective this makes sense, you buy out your rival for less competition so you can set market value to your liking. But this is not a business, some will argue the federal government is the largest business on earth. It goes beyond the financial side to the personal level. These are policies and practices that have real world implications. That affect real people lives in droves.

This “big tent” approach sounds wonderful in theory, but when you start looking at the details it becomes much more complicated. The extremes of both sides tend to be the loudest voices while representing the smallest fraction of the party.

It has proven to be detrimental to the functioning or our democracy! With just the two sides, when one side is unhealthy, unhappy and unwilling to compromise the system bogs. This last House term being an excellent example. These MAGA obstructionist sinking the ship. Making an ass out of themselves and the entire Republican Party. A party that used to be a proud, noble group, resorted to lacking leadership for months, failed vote counts and the title as the least productive Congress in this century. The “big tent” approach for the Republican Party has the loudest voices being heard while the mature, responsible, more centered Republicans are lumped in with them.

The same can be true of the left to an extent. Dems will kick those with unacceptable behavior words or conduct to the curb though, which is a huge difference. Yet there are extremes on the left that don’t necessarily reflect the views of most Democrats.

This, winner take all grasp for power has lessened the effectiveness and stature of the political spheres in this country. So it’s down to the puppet on the left or the puppet in the right. A brown paper bag with a name on it.

So we have the two parties with the two extremes. One party despite its downfalls wants to govern. Wants to see progress. Wants to enact change.

The other is fighting culture wars, denying science, and tiptoeing a line on bigotry that is stepped over habitually. Their method as the “party of no” which they labeled themselves during the Obama years does NOTHING for the citizens of this country. The obstructionist approach of saying no because the other side proposed it is not helpful, if you’d call it governing at all! The “war on woke” and this owning the libs thing is some childish, useless sh*t! Cutting off your nose to spite your face. Can we have representatives who actually work together and find compromise to accomplish SOMETHING!!!?

Anyway… There’s only one healthy party in America right now. And it sure ain’t the Republican MAGA Party…

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quinnysnursery · 13 days ago

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4 things my girlfriend does that heals my inner child

++ and why i'm telling you !

1. she shows up without being asked too

i own and operate a small business almost entirely on my own. i am in charge of my own social media marketing, creating and crafting my products and shipping out orders. my girlfriend has a decently sized instagram account, because she is very good at the hobby she does. never have i directly asked her to share some of my posts, or promote my work and yet, she has. every time without fail-- whether i have a market, i make a silly reel, or i'm announcing a new product-- she shares it with her followers. she supports me loudly, and shows up to support me and my business in the only way she can whilst we're long distance.

2. my interests are encouraged, never shamed

i'm a they of many interests and hobbies. i'm a crafter, a trinket collector, a k-pop fan-- you name it, i've probably dabbled in it at least briefly.

during my upbringing, my interests were often put off due to my family being busy, uninterested or simply just not wanting to hear. as an autistic person, i struggled with understanding how to connect with others who didn't share similar interests, and at times felt abandoned and hurt when people would laugh or poke at the things that made me happy.

but my girlfriend? she asks what i'm crafting, asks about the popmart series i'm most in-love with, and most recently told me she listens to my ult group just to familiarize herself with their discography.

3. arguments ≠ yelling

yelling was, and still is, a constant in my life. especially during my early childhood, it's apart of the reason i'm sensitive to loud noises as an adult now. and honestly, as sad as it may sound, i never expected to find a partner who didn't yell at me. i thought that's how couples communicated.

in the years i've known this girl, i can't count the number of times she's yelled at me angrily on one hand. why? because she never has.

of course, my girlfriend and i are people at the end of the day. we disagree, we argue, we butt heads-- but we never yell. we never try to create an unsafe environment to make the other feel scared into agreeing.

4. reassurance and communication.

plain and simple. reassurance and communication are truly the foundation for any relationship. it's taken us awhile to learn what works and trust there has been countless of times where something worked for one of us, but not the other-- or a technique that worked for awhile only to stop as we grew and changed.

but what held our bond together was the reassurance that we were both safe with each other. the communication that, despite the rocky road of figuring out how to be the first in both our families to have a healthy relationship, we are on that together.

now, why am i telling you all this?

because i want people to know. i want people to know that love can be safe, love should be safe. love should never be fear, or have to be earned. no matter who you are, what you look like, or how you were raised. my upbringing instilled a lot of harmful ideals into my nervous system, made me believe things about myself that were never true and worst of all-- made me scared to let myself be loved.

i want each and every one of you to know that you'll find your person. you'll find the person who makes you laugh like your a child again, the person who helps you feel safe when everything in you wants to run back to bad habits, the person who helps you remember that love should never be conditional.

and until then, love yourself <3

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ranticore · 1 year ago

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I thought I'd post the sketched out map of the city before I take it in for redrawing (which will take a very long time and it's definitely a backburner project) in a decent resolution so that people can actually see what's going on. The full size version is 4800px wide so too big to actually have full res on tumblr anyway

Invergorken is your basic city built in the armpit of a bay. Although its original medieval castle still stands as the Sharps ranger barracks, the citadel north of the grand canal is where the palace sits. The main reason it was all built here, slammed up against the Ruad, an inhospitable forest, is because it was a trade hub for goods passing through the Ruad. If you look at the whole country map you can see that Invergorken is built right where the Ruad is narrowest from west to east, and also that the forest cuts off overland travel in a massive part of its range. Farmland to the north and south of the city serves it though the farms are more extensive in the west, both north and south of the bay.

Before the railways were built, goods were ferried through the forest overland (the grand canal & river on which it was built goes sharply north out of frame and does not connect with the lough). A huge amount of Invergorken's infrastructure was built to directly facilitate ease of travel between sea and lough; the canals connect major points of interest. with a pretty robust lock system, ships from the sea are able to travel right on through the city to the train station, the industrial areas, and the lumberyards lining the edge of the Ruad.

The four quarters (five if you count the citadel) are named for the ring roads that originally surrounded them, but over centuries the built-up area has expanded to all but bury their original shapes. The east ring is where most of the usual city business takes place, mixed housing and shops and markets and everything else you could imagine. It's the oldest part of the city outside the citadel. This includes the city's singular Suzette hospital which is inconveniently located as far from everyone as possible. the north ring is the heart of industry in Inver, with hundreds of smokestacks, brick yards, furnaces, and foundries all in relatively close range of their own dock system (not drawn.. i forgor). Although it's a greatly productive area, it's also the poorest; extremely crowded tenements, poor facilities, housing built rapidly and without much care to provide for the mainly immigrant workers at the factories. Although the buildings are newer than the average east ring tenement, they are not pleasant.

The south ring is the rich-but-not-noble district, it consists of relatively new buildings, as the new rich of Invergorken have only recently come about as a separate phenomenon to the gentry of the citadel. These capitalists are responsible for much of the north ring & its development. The buildings in the south ring are deceptive; they look old, built to ape the style of the ancient buildings in the citadel, as clout-chasing upper class citizens struggle to elevate themselves on the same level as the nobility. Here you will find the Stagsons' black market as well as the Barnyard opera house and its adjoining brothel. The businesses are relatively fancy and cater to upper class tastes, like the Fernery which is for anybody who wants to take in the healing properties of nature without actually having to go outside.

The west ring is another new area, mainly built up by slightly richer immigrants from the western duchy of Moya, as this is the area of Invergorken you must travel through to get to Moya in the west, as well as all of the west-coast towns. It has a new train station and the beginnings of a new railway, though no trains run on it yet. The majority of iron from the north ring foundries is transported here to facilitate the building of the railway, which stretches all the way to Aberharain.

The citadel (or, in common parlance, the Hound's Den) is where the king and nobility go. It consists of a hexagonal wall with watch towers at each point, with portcullis gates opening out to several main thoroughfares. Many of the canals in the city actually arise from the citadel; the limestone bedrock is riddled with underground caverns and rivers, and these emerge at the surface within the citadel. The citadel contains the townhouses of the nobility, to be used on a seasonal basis as the main family residences are usually far out in the countryside, as well as the largest of the monarchy's three palaces. The citadel palace tower is the tallest building in Invergorken (not counting the smokestacks). The palace has its own walls blocking it off from the rest of the citadel, and its grounds are divided into four gardens, one for each season. The citadel has every stupid luxury you could possibly imagine; marked on the map are the important family houses but also the dressage arena, north of which is an extensive golf course with an arboretum. Although the noble families often only live in their townhouses during seasonal events hosted by the king (solstice and equinox hunting events in particular), the citadel is mainly home to an army of staff year-round, vastly outnumbering the nobility but hidden away in back streets and purpose-built corridors. this gives the odd impression of a ghost town, servants making things perfect for absentee landlords, heating and lighting their empty houses.

#setting: inver #mvf #who wanna read about. city planning

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solnerao · 9 months ago

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Garden

Lena sighed, setting a device on the workbench in front of her. The light of dawn was creeping through the window, illuminating the blue and red Izzet guild banners that adorned the walls of her lab. Integrating magic and science wasn't easy, and Lena hadn't made as much progress as she had hoped.

Lena's laboratory was near the top of one of Izzet's tallest spires, a gleaming tower of stone and brass and exposed pipework. A privileged position, granted due to Lena's status as a planeswalker— someone with the power to travel to other planes of existence.

She stood and walked to the balcony, watching the sun begin to illuminate the vertical city's understory. The scene below her was its usual chaos. A rat's nest of alleys and cobbled streets connected stone buildings with a bewildering mix of architectural styles. Lena could see lawmages hurrying into an ornate gothic courthouse while animal-drawn carts trundled past, disappearing behind the verandas of a nearby market.

Lena smiled. This was home.

Lena often found respite on this balcony, and she always found her gaze pulled to the gardens of the Selesnya guild in the distance, hoping to catch a glimpse of a particular planeswalker. Lena's heart skipped a beat as she saw a familiar figure emerge from the treetops and fly towards her. A few moments later, Kara Zor-El landed on Lena's balcony with a basket of fresh baked goods.

"Hey! Want some breakfast?" Kara smiled at Lena. Since her arrival on Ravnica, Kara had become one of Lena's closest friends.

"Gods that sounds amazing," Lena said, snatching a pastry "I always forget how hungry I get when I'm working."

"Did you get any sleep last night?" asked Kara, trying to hide the exasperation in her voice.

"I napped," she insisted between bites of pastry "For like half an hour. That counts for something."

Seeing the expression on Kara's face, Lena decided to change the subject. "This is amazing" she said, waving the pastry she was now halfway through.

"They're good, right? Say what you will about Selesnya, the fresh food is the best"

"Why did you choose Selesnya?" Unlike Lena, Kara wasn't born here. When new planeswalkers chose to stay on Ravnica, there was often a bidding war between guilds for their allegiance. "I heard Azorius and Boros also offered…" Lena trailed off as Kara turned away to stare out across the city. Kara had never spoken about her past, and Lena had never been one to pry. Worried she had overstepped, Lena tried again. "I just—"

"Can I show you something?" Kara asked, turning back to Lena. Her voice was steady, but Lena could hear the emotion behind it.

"Of course."

Kara set down her basket and held out her hand. Knowing what was about to happen, Lena took Kara's hand as a flash of light consumed them.

The light faded as Lena surveyed their new surroundings. Lena was used to planeswalking, but each new plane she visited still had some way to surprise her. They were still in a city, but one unlike any Lena had ever seen. The elaborate stonework of Ravnica had been replaced by buildings of brushed steel and glass, elegant and orderly. The pair stood in the middle of a perfectly smooth street, straight as far as the eye could see.

"Where are we?" Lena asked in wonder, still taking in her surroundings

"Krypton." Kara's voice was sad, almost bitter. "This was my home."

It was only then that Lena noticed how unnaturally quiet it was. For a city this size, there was no clatter of transportation systems or bustle of the city as people went about their day- there wasn't even wasn't a single person in sight. The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees.

The trees— that was when Lena understood. Planted all along the roadsides and in a sprawling park a few hundred yards away, this city was full of them. But they were wrong— twisted and strangely metallic, and their leaves oozed a black oil Lena knew to be deadly.

"Phyrexia?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

Kara nodded. She was staring at a nearby storefront, seemingly anchoring herself. Lena couldn't read any of the words. "The invasion destroyed everything. Corrupted everything" The bitterness in her voice was clearer now.

Silence hung in the air for a moment.

"I'm sorry." Lena said, taking Kara's hand. Kara finally turned back to meet Lena's gaze. "Let's go home." Lena said softly.

Kara took one last look at the storefront and sighed, then nodded. "Let's go back." She amended.

Another flash and they were back in Lena's lab on Ravnica.

"Thank you." Lena said, relaxing again. "For showing me."

The uncanny silence was gone, replaced by the background cacophony of life on Ravnica. It also seemed a weight had been lifted from Kara's shoulders. She nodded and smiled at Lena, though Lena could still see sadness in her eyes.

"That's why I chose Selesnya." Said Kara in a carefully controlled voice "People don't understand how much the life on this plane is worth. How could they? They've never had to watch an entire plane wither and die"

Lena looked at Kara. "I'm so sorry." She said again. It didn't feel like enough, but she wasn't sure what else to say.

"I should go" Kara said eventually. "I'll see you later. Promise me you'll get some sleep?" Lena smiled and nodded. Then Kara was gone.

Kara soared through the gardens of the Selesnya guild, enjoying the peace the treetops provided. Sunlight danced across the leaves as squirrels darted from one branch to another. It had been two weeks since she had visited Krypton, and the nightmares had finally stopped. Last time, it had taken years. This garden had become her shield, day by day, as she surrounded herself with life that no corruption could reach. Now she knew every flower, every tree.

Well, every tree except one.

Kara realized there was a new tree in the garden today, fully grown as though it had always been there. She flew closer to investigate and gasped as she realized- this tree was Kryptonian. It had been years since Kara had seen one so full of life. She landed and pressed her hand against the bark, checking to make sure it wasn't some illusion.

"What do you think?" Lena asked as she stepped from around the trunk towards Kara.

"Lena?" Kara's eyes widened "How did you even do this?"

Lena shrugged and smiled. "Oh you know, a little bit of magic, a little bit of science."

"But… the Phyrexian oil? Oh gods, not to mention cross-plane imports, and Izzet aren't even allowed to…" Kara had her hands on her head now, stressed just thinking about it. "This was illegal. Like, very, very illegal" She stared wide eyed at Lena. For a few seconds Lena just stared back.

And suddenly they were both laughing. Kara wasn't even sure what they were laughing about- about Lena's disregard for safety and common sense, about the way Kara's first reaction was to fixate on the legal system, about the sheer impossibility of the situation.

"Oh my gods" Kara said again as the laughs began to subside. "I can't believe you did this for me. Seriously, I don't know how to thank you enough."

Lena stepped toward Kara, closing the gap between them. Kara's breath caught. "I can think of a way you could thank me" Lena said softly, looking up at Kara.

Kara leaned in and their lips met as they embraced beneath the branches of their impossible tree. There in Lena's arms, Kara was home.

#supercorptober #supercorptober2024 #that's right it's the magic the gathering AU literally no one asked for #sol writes

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shantitechnology · 1 year ago

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Boosting Efficiency: The Role of ERP Software in Modern Manufacturing Operations

In today's fast-paced manufacturing landscape, efficiency is not just a desirable trait; it's a necessity. To stay competitive and meet the demands of the market, manufacturers must streamline their processes, optimize resource utilization, and enhance decision-making capabilities. This is where Enterprise Resource Planning (ERP) software steps in as a game-changer. In this article, we'll delve into the pivotal role of ERP systems in revolutionizing manufacturing operations, particularly in India's thriving industrial sector.

Understanding ERP for Manufacturing Industry

ERP systems for manufacturing are comprehensive software solutions designed to integrate and automate core business processes such as production planning, inventory management, supply chain logistics, financial management, and human resources. By consolidating data and operations into a unified platform, ERP empowers manufacturers with real-time insights, facilitates collaboration across departments, and enables informed decision-making.

Streamlining Operations with ERP Solutions

In the dynamic environment of manufacturing, where every minute counts, efficiency gains translate directly into cost savings and competitive advantages. ERP software for manufacturing offers a multitude of features that streamline operations and drive efficiency:

1. Enhanced Production Planning: ERP systems enable manufacturers to create accurate production schedules based on demand forecasts, resource availability, and production capacity. By optimizing production timelines and minimizing idle time, manufacturers can fulfill orders promptly and reduce lead times.

2. Inventory Management: Efficient inventory management is crucial for balancing supply and demand while minimizing holding costs. ERP software provides real-time visibility into inventory levels, automates reorder points, and facilitates inventory optimization to prevent stockouts and overstock situations.

3. Supply Chain Optimization: ERP solutions for manufacturing integrate supply chain processes from procurement to distribution, enabling seamless coordination with suppliers and distributors. By optimizing procurement cycles, minimizing transportation costs, and reducing lead times, manufacturers can enhance supply chain resilience and responsiveness.

4. Quality Control: Maintaining product quality is paramount in manufacturing to uphold brand reputation and customer satisfaction. ERP systems offer quality management modules that streamline inspection processes, track product defects, and facilitate corrective actions to ensure adherence to quality standards.

5. Financial Management: Effective financial management is essential for sustaining manufacturing operations and driving profitability. ERP software provides robust accounting modules that automate financial transactions, streamline budgeting and forecasting, and generate comprehensive financial reports for informed decision-making.

6. Human Resource Management: People are the cornerstone of manufacturing operations, and managing workforce efficiently is critical for productivity and employee satisfaction. ERP systems for manufacturing include HR modules that automate payroll processing, manage employee records, and facilitate workforce planning to align staffing levels with production demands.

The Advantages of ERP for Manufacturing Companies in India

India's manufacturing sector is undergoing rapid transformation, fueled by factors such as government initiatives like "Make in India," technological advancements, and globalization. In this dynamic landscape, ERP software plays a pivotal role in empowering manufacturing companies to thrive and remain competitive:

1. Scalability: ERP solutions for manufacturing are scalable, making them suitable for companies of all sizes – from small and medium enterprises (SMEs) to large conglomerates. Whether a company is expanding its operations or diversifying its product portfolio, ERP systems can adapt to evolving business needs and support growth.

2. Compliance: Regulatory compliance is a significant concern for manufacturing companies in India, given the complex regulatory environment. ERP software incorporates compliance features that ensure adherence to industry regulations, tax laws, and reporting requirements, minimizing the risk of non-compliance penalties.

3. Localization: ERP vendors catering to the Indian manufacturing sector offer localized solutions tailored to the unique requirements of the Indian market. From multi-currency support to GST compliance features, these ERP systems are equipped with functionalities that address the specific challenges faced by Indian manufacturers.

4. Cost Efficiency: Implementing ERP software for manufacturing entails upfront investment, but the long-term benefits far outweigh the costs. By streamlining processes, optimizing resource utilization, and reducing operational inefficiencies, ERP systems drive cost savings and improve overall profitability.

5. Competitive Edge: In a fiercely competitive market, manufacturing companies in India must differentiate themselves through operational excellence and agility. ERP software equips companies with the tools and insights needed to outperform competitors, adapt to market dynamics, and capitalize on emerging opportunities.

Choosing the Right ERP Software for Manufacturing

Selecting the right ERP solution is crucial for maximizing the benefits and ensuring a smooth implementation process. When evaluating ERP software for manufacturing, companies should consider the following factors:

1. Industry-specific functionality: Choose an ERP system that offers industry-specific features and functionalities tailored to the unique requirements of manufacturing operations.

2. Scalability and flexibility: Ensure that the ERP software can scale with your business and accommodate future growth and expansion.

3. Ease of integration: Look for ERP systems that seamlessly integrate with existing software applications, such as CRM systems, MES solutions, and IoT devices, to create a cohesive technology ecosystem.

4. User-friendliness: A user-friendly interface and intuitive navigation are essential for ensuring widespread adoption and maximizing user productivity.

5. Vendor support and expertise: Select a reputable ERP vendor with a proven track record of success in the manufacturing industry and robust customer support services.

Conclusion

In conclusion, ERP software has emerged as a cornerstone of modern manufacturing operations, empowering companies to enhance efficiency, drive growth, and maintain a competitive edge in the global market. For manufacturing companies in India, where agility, scalability, and compliance are paramount, implementing the right ERP solution can be a transformative investment that paves the way for sustainable success. By harnessing the power of ERP, manufacturers can optimize processes, streamline operations, and unlock new opportunities for innovation and growth in the dynamic landscape of the manufacturing industry.

#ERP software providers in India #Manufacturing enterprise resource planning #ERP systems for manufacturing companies #ERP system for manufacturing industry #ERP for manufacturing companies #ERP software for engineering company #ERP software for engineering companies in India #ERP software for engineering companies in Mumbai #ERP solution providers in India #ERP for manufacturing industry #ERP systems for manufacturing #ERP solutions for manufacturing #ERP software manufacturing industry #ERP for manufacturing company in India #India

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netsolwaters · 9 months ago

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Expert in Commercial RO Plant Manufacturer in Delhi

Tired of water woes in Delhi? Here's a simple solution. We at Netsol Water have the best solutions for you. We are one of the best Commercial RO Plant Manufacturer in Delhi, providing advance solution for waste water. Commercial RO plants made waves and held all stormy nights in Delhi. Let's dive deeper into why we're the go-to experts for clean water solutions in the bustling city.

Water, Water Everywhere, But Is It Safe to Drink?

Delhi is growing very fast. But growth also brings several problems along with itself. Water quality is one of the significant issues. Many business houses are battling with polluted water. It's a nuisance for hotels, hospitals, and industries alike. That's where we come in. Meet Netsol Water:

We are not just another water treatment company. This is an establishment of a State-of-the-art Commercial RO Plant Manufacturer company. And its base? Delhi! We have the local knowledge of water issues no one else may have. People here have years of experience in their belts. We have solved every size of water problems.

Why Commercial RO Plants?

You may ask what makes RO special. Well, it's straightforward. Reverse Osmosis is the winner when it comes to water purification. It eliminates almost everything bad from the water. Salts, bacteria, chemicals you name it, RO covers that. And for business, it ensures safe and clean water all the time.

Our RO Plants: Not Just Any Water Filters

There is no one size fits all in our book. Each RO Plant that we design is different. We build it around your requirements. Whether you are a small café or a large factory, we have you covered. It's just efficient, reliable, and built to last.

The Netsol Water Difference

What differentiates us? It's attention to detail. The components we use in our RO plant are of the highest quality. Our designs are of the future. Updated with the latest in water treatment technology, we are. That is not all, however. We can offer end-to-end solutions. Design, installation, and maintenance-all managed in one go.

Delhi Water Challenges: We Get It

Delhi water is not so easy to treat. It is high in TDS and has a problem in hardness. All these problems can make a mess of your machines and also decrease the quality of your product. So, we design the RO plants in such a way that each of these problems is faced upfront.

Size does matter, but efficiency counts more.

Our commercial RO plants can be varied capacities. We can purify anywhere from 100 liters to 1,00,000 liters an hour. And, of course, size isn't everything. We are also pretty keen on efficiency. Our plants save water, energy, and your hard-earned money.

The Heart of Our RO Plants

At the heart of our RO plants are high-quality membranes. These are like super-fine sieves. They let through only pure water, and anything else gets filtered out. We only use the best membranes in the market, and you can be sure that the promise is for crystal-clear and safe water for you.

More Than Just RO

Although RO is our specialty, we offer much more. The pretreatment and posttreatment stage is offered at most of our plants. Therefore, your water, after being treated with us, will not only be clean but be suitable for your purpose. Be it soft or mineral-rich water, we can do that.

Customization is Key

Every business is different. So are their water needs. That's why customized solutions are offered. Do you need a compact plant for your restaurant? Good luck. You're in need of a large-scale system in your factory? No Problem. Our experts closely work with you to design just the perfect system.

Installation Made Easy

Don't worry. There's no need to look in different directions for the installation procedure of the new RO plant. Our team of skill-full technicians will handle it. We ensure everything is set up correctly. We train your staff on how to work the plant as well. It is hassle-free water treatment at its best.

After-Sales Support:

And it doesn't end there. We have solid after-sales support. Routine maintenance is covered. Emergency repairs can also be dealt with by just a phone call. We believe in long-term relationships with our clients. Your success is our success.

Eco-Friendly Solutions

We are devoted to the environment. Our RO plants are designed in an eco-friendly manner. They tend to recover water and, at the same time, are energy efficient. It results in less waste and, hence, a smaller carbon footprint. It's good for your business and good for the planet.

Cost-Effective in the Long Run

Of course, a commercial RO plant is pricey up front. However, it pays off in the long run. You save money on bottled water costs. Since the equipment lasts longer due to scale-free water, you also have peace of mind knowing that your water is always safe at all times.

Our Happy Clients Speak

Don't just take our word for it. Our clients in Delhi swear by the quality of our RO plants. From five-star hotels to tech parks, we have helped businesses across all sectors. They praise our quality, service, and expertise. Their success stories fuel our passion.

Stay Ahead of the Curve

The water treatment industry is forever changing. We guarantee that we're always ahead of the curve. Our team constantly attends workshops and seminars. We invest in research and development. It means our clients always get the latest and best in water treatment technology.

Why Choose Netsol Water?

So, why should you choose us for your commercial RO plant requirements in Delhi? It's simple:

-We are local gurus with a global standard.

We design plants custom for your needs

- Solutions, not just products-solutions alone do it

- Unmatched after-sales support

- Quality and customer satisfaction are our promises

Future of Water Treatment

As does Delhi grow, so will its water needs. We do not shy away from the challenge. We innovate continuously, improve our designs, and expand our capabilities to give you the best. At Netsol Water, you're not only solving today's water problems-you're ensuring that the problems don't happen tomorrow.

Taking The First Step Toward Clean Water

Are you ready to face your water troubles? Contact us at Netsol Water today. Let's discuss your water treatment requirements. Netsol Water is top on Commercial RO Plant Manufacturers in Delhi, offering solutions for waste water. Our specialists are more than ready to address all of your requirements. Remember, clean water isn't a luxury. It's a necessity. And we're here to ensure that this necessity redefines water treatment solutions for businesses in Delhi.

Don't let bad water quality hamper your business. Bring in a commercial RO plant by Netsol Water to fulfill all your requirements. Taste the difference clean, pure water can make. Your customers, employees, and equipment will thank you. Let us work together to make Delhi a city that has the cleanest, safest water. The future is clear, and it starts with Netsol Water!

#environment #manufacturer #industries #water #environmental #manufacturers #industrial #netsolwater #purifier #manufacturing #industry #wastewater #filter #delhi

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argyrocratie · 2 years ago

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"Waste, Logistical Chains, “Economies of Scale” — and Aesthetics.

My suspicion that Phillips seriously underestimates the degree of waste production in existing capitalism is further confirmed by the fact that a book he co-authors, The People’s Republic of Walmart, celebrates many of the most inefficient aspects of existing capitalism as exemplars of efficiency. In particular he admires Walmart’s and Amazon’s extended logistics networks, a sentiment he also celebrated in a direct tweet to me:

I kinda love those worldwide supply chains. They are deeply humanising and constructing of a global culture. I cannot wait until all of subsaharan Africa is more integrated.

(...)

It’s useful to contrast this with Seymour Melman’s observations, in The Permanent War Economy, on the tendency towards cost-maximization in bureaucracies like the Pentagon and regulated public utilities. Any entity that’s guaranteed a profit under the terms of a procurement contract or regulation has every incentive in the world to maximize its cost, in order to maximize profits that are calculated on a cost-plus basis.

And this is true not only of entities that are formally guaranteed profits, but of entities whose oligopoly power enables them to engage in administered pricing (what Paul Goodman called the “great kingdom of cost-plus”).

According to William Waddell and Norman Bodek, under the rules of the management accounting system developed by Donaldson Brown at Du Pont and General Motors (what Waddell and Bodek call “Sloanist” accounting), overhead and waste is treated as the creation of value — a lot like GDP, in fact. Inventory is counted as an asset “with the same liquidity as cash.” Regardless of whether current output is needed to fill an order (...) In other words, the expenditure of money on inputs is by definition the creation of value. The more bloated and bureaucratic the production process, the greater the total book value of all that inventory sitting in the warehouse. So the large corporations that dominate our economy have an incentive to maximize waste and overhead that’s similar in kind, if not degree, to that prevailing in the Pentagon.

These giant corporations celebrated by Phillips and Rozworski appear “efficient” only because they exist within an ecosystem which has been modified to suit their needs. The state provides subsidized material inputs and socializes risk, and it enforces monopolies and entry barriers and regulatory restraints on competition. Corporate bureaucracies survive because of cost externalization and economic rents.

And that’s built into the basic structure of capitalism from its earliest days. From the beginning, capitalism has pursued a model of growth based on the extensive addition of new material inputs, rather than the more efficient use of existing inputs, because land and natural resources — thanks to enclosure and imperial looting — were artificially cheap.

In Europe peasant land was stolen and consolidated via enclosure and given to the propertied classes. In settler societies like the United States, both Indigenous-occupied and vacant lands were preempted by states, which gave preferential access to capitalists. States subsidize the extraction of fossil fuels and fight wars for access to them, making energy inputs artificially cheap. They subsidize highway transportation and, by making long-distance shipping artificially cheap, make firm sizes and market areas far above the point of diminishing returns artificially viable.

This is why the much-vaunted “efficiency” of factory farming — vaunted by its court propagandists, that is — is in output per labor-hour, not per acre. Soil-intensive techniques like raised bed horticulture are actually more efficient, in terms of output per acre.

In the specific case of logistic chains, Walmart is efficient at minimizing costs within a distorted framework in which transportation inputs are artificially cheap. Walmart’s logistics networks, and its network of offshore suppliers, are both enlarged at the expense of smaller-scale production for local markets, which would be more efficient if all costs were fully internalized. This means that the scale of Walmart’s logistics networks is actually an example of the amount of waste production under capitalism.

(...)

To the extent that Walmart’s just-in-time model is intended to match supply to demand, it is a sub-optimal application of lean principles. Walmart just replaces the warehouses full of inventory (under the Sloanist mass production model that Waddell and Bodek critique) with warehouses on wheels or on container ships. The ideal application of lean principles, in contrast, would be siting production as close as possible to demand, then scaling the flow of production to demand and scaling machinery to the flow of production — something like the high tech job shops of the Emilia-Romagna industrial district, with production oriented even more toward local consumption than is currently the case.

So while Phillips may consider those long logistic chains to be “deeply humanizing,” what they actually are is deeply inefficient. There is nothing “agile” about using many times the transportation inputs that are actually necessary because you’re producing stuff in one place to be shipped to retail shelves on the other side of the planet, when it would be produced much more efficiently where it’s being consumed."

-Kevin Carson, "We Are All Degrowthers. We Are All Ecomodernists. Analysis of a Debate" (2019)

#kevin carson #walmart #supply chain #Leigh Phillips #capitalism

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melancholic-hues · 1 year ago

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the first of a chance

posted on AO3

kafblade week 2024: prompt - valentine’s day

fandom - honkai: star rail

rating - general audiences

warning - no warnings apply

category - f/m

pairings - blade/kafka

tags - mutual pining ; unresolved romantic tension ; fireworks ; kafblade week 2024

word count - 3090 words

Despite herself and the bounty set on her by the IPC, Kafka is a romantic at heart.

Her favorite genre of music is classical music, of course, but she especially loves music that can easily be adapted into ballets, wedding music, romantic ball dances. There is something special and intoxicating about love.

The sun is almost completely gone on this planet they are sent to. Earth, as it is called. A planet far from the grasps of the IPC yet commonly visited by intergalactic tourists but very undeveloped technologically. She’s surprised they are able to get here in the first place.

Throughout the mission, Kafka had noticed all of the red and pink decorations adorned in some of the busy markets. It’s Valentine’s Day here, Silver Wolf reported back to her when Kafka asked her to do a quick search on why. The hacker is basically their convenient dictionary and search engine.

Apparently, this ‘Valentine’s Day’ is to celebrate romance throughout this world. Couples take each other out to eat under some truly romantic places, gifts are exchanged, all the gestures. It’s adorable, how much of an impact romantic love has on this world. And how coincidental too.

Kafka has an idea.

She sends a quick text to Silver Wolf regarding their mission status and tucks her phone away, the case — magenta like her entire color scheme; Silver Wolf has called her sense of style “basic” once, and Kafka begs to differ — slipping into one of the many pockets she has in this light winter jacket she’s wearing.

“Well,” she drawls, looking up at her partner for this mission. “We’re done, but it’s going to take a few system hours until we can head back to the ship.” Getting to this planet was easy; it’s the departure part that’s a tad difficult. But she’s sure the other Hunters, mainly their local hacker, can manage.

Blade nods, his gaze flitting away to the light of the streetlight far out from the dim alleyway they regrouped in. Always checking for dangers, this one. Or maybe he just can’t meet her eyes. Either way, she’s amused at the lack of eye contact.

“Bladie,” she calls. He turns to give her his full attention. “How about we do some festival shopping?” She smiles, cat-like and sly.

Blade blinks. He nods and sheaths his sword, his breath visible in the chilly air.

Kafka leads them out of the alley, and they head toward the nearest night market. “Just follow me,” she says and holds onto his wrist, the one that isn’t all bandaged up. (She fondly remembers how he promised Silver Wolf he’d play with her once his wrist healed. She doesn’t think it’s going to happen anytime soon.)

Blade obediently follows her, entering the crowd of shoppers.

They are not donning any disguises, so one can only hope no one knows they are Kafka and Blade. If they do, they’ll just make quick work of them. Although Kafka really doesn’t want to resort to violence on such a romantic day.

They stop at a stand selling all sorts of clothes. Some of them are in funky and interesting designs, some of them designed for exquisite and formal events not meant to be sold in a night market like this. She nudges Blade, prompting him to stop at the stand alongside her at a jacket rack. People blend around them, all part of a carefree, happy scene she and the rest of the Stellaron Hunters rarely get to experience in their chaotic lives.

“Do you see any that might fit me?” Kafka starts sifting through the round rack of jackets varying in design and sizes. They all look too tacky and colorful for her likings.

The owner of the stand, a middle-aged woman wearing a work blouse and overalls, is happily conversing with another person. The woman peeks over at them and smiles in greeting. Kafka smiles back and waits for Blade’s response.

He looks at all of them. Finally, he reaches into the rack and takes out a black leather jacket with a spider web design on its shoulders and back. With gold clasps embedded in its cuffs, the sleeves open out to two layers of magenta ruffles. She is instantly awed by this particular jacket.

“Would this work?” He asks, handing her the jacket by the hanger. Kafka takes it and feels the fabric of the magenta ruffles, soft and comfortable. “The color matches your hair,” he tells her, referencing the ruffles. It does.

“Yes. I like it,” Kafka says as the store owner hurries toward them.

“Ooh, are you two doing last minute Valentine’s day shopping together? I must say, you two are a gorgeous couple!” the woman’s smile reaches her eyes. This is a woman that must’ve smiled a lot, judging from the lines around her eyes that crease when she does.

Blade stiffens besides her.

The woman comes over and takes the jacket from Kafka’s hands. “I didn’t even know I had this!” she says. “The leather is really rich, and the patterns are just truly intricate! Here, I’ll give the lucky lady a discount.” She gives Blade a wink . “Only seventy-five credits. How does that sound?”

Recovering from his little wave of shock, Blade tugs on Kafka’s coat cuff. “You can bargain that,” he whispers to her in Xianzhou, his native language. For communication purposes, all of the Stellaron Hunters had to learn a few foreign languages so no one will overhear the conversation.

“Ah, that’s right. The Xianzhou is known for their fierce bargaining skills, no? Would you like to bargain the price for the lucky lady?” Kafka teases, delighted when Blade’s cheeks only grow redder. She hands over the seventy-five credits and waits as the woman scurries away to grab a bag for them.

For the short moment the owner is gone, they stand in complete silence. The word ‘couple’ hands between them, unsaid and fragile. Kafka hates silences like these, but even she is unsure how to proceed without making this possibly worse.

Finally, the lady comes back. She holds a plastic bag with the jacket neatly folded inside and hands it over to Kafka. “This jacket definitely looks good on you. Your man has a good eye for details,” the woman jokes. “Have a wonderful evening, you two.”

Blade, without any sound, takes the bag from her and holds it in his bandaged hand. He doesn’t meet her eye, and she lets out a small sigh. “Well,” she murmurs. “Which shop next?”

He follows her as they go from shop to shop, not talking much and only speaking to answer some of Kafka’s idle questions (but still questions regardless). They buy an assortment of things for everyone on the ship: games, posters, and figurines for Silver Wolf’s growing collection; novels, a lot of them, for Sam; and jackets and vinyls for her. Blade doesn’t want anything, per usual.

“Are you sure, Bladie?” Kafka confirms again as they pass a table with trinkets in singles and pairs. She stops. He stops behind her, the increasing number of bags in his hand swaying against her leg.

“Yes,” Blade answers again.

“Hm,” she hums and picks up a pair of matching keychains and a crystal spider statue. “Bladie, what about something small?” She turns on her heel and shows him the objects. They’re all cheap, judging from the price tags and the material composition.

“I — fine,” he finally says, particularly eyeing the matching keychains. Two animal charms hang off each, a purple and blue-and-red… cat cakes? Nevertheless, the cats are simply adorable.

She puts the trinkets on the table, over to the woman running the place.

“That would be thirty credits,” the woman says to Blade.

“Oh, no, I’m paying,” Kafka gives the woman a forced smile, not really kind and bordering on threatening, and hands over the credits.

The woman’s eyebrows raise as she looks between Kafka and Blade. “…I see. Sorry for assuming.” She takes the money and pushes the trinkets toward Kafka.

Kafka gives the crystal spider statue and one matching keychain to Blade, eyes crinkled in a soft, now genuine, smile. Blade gently takes it both from her and slips the statue into his pocket. He holds the keychain in his hand. Kafka is sure he will at least keep it.

They do not speak of how the woman expected Blade to pay. That would assume they are a couple. Kafka isn’t sure if she wanted Blade to pay for her or not.

“There is a vinyl shop,” Blade tells her. “Over there.” He points the way to a tent. It’s just at the edge of the street, where the market opens up into the town square. She can see tables piled with vinyl and a gramophone from here.

“Let’s go,” she says. The crowd heading toward town square is getting thicker; she did see a poster for fireworks a few shops back. She checks the system time here on her phone. Fireworks start at seven in the evening. They have ten more minutes.

Blade holds onto her wrist, his grip tender yet firm so he won’t lose her in this crowd, as they make their way over to the stand. Kafka peeks back to meet his curious gaze, eyes blankly blinking at her.

“Just follow me,” she says in lieu of an answer, a ghost of a smirk on her lips.

They arrive at the vinyl tent, and she immediately starts flipping through the disks. The majority of them are tunes she has never heard of. She buys them all, piling them on her arm. Blade walks over and takes them from her, reading the label of each vinyl as she places them into the pile. So far, it’s all classical vinyls on there.

She must say, according to some quick searches on these vinyls, it’s all common music on this planet, but not at all across the universe. Kafka has no idea they’re all popular tracks on this planet. She just picked them out at random.

Kafka tries to find a record from this planet that she has been unsuccessful in finding so far.

She has tried asking Silver Wolf for its physical copy whereabouts when she first heard of this, or maybe for the hacker to generate the viny into existence, to no avail. It should be on this planet though, since its manufacturing license was only given to be made on its planet of origin. Kafka just isn’t sure if she can find it in a small selection store like this. A shame; she probably can find it if they have more time.

Kafka flips through the three tables of vinyl in the small shop. No trace of the vinyl anywhere.

“They don’t have the vinyl here,” Kafka tells Blade. She has ranted about this mysterious and elusive song before to him and the rest of the Hunters. It’s probably a common occurrence for them, how often she talks about the songs she listens to. “Alright. That should be enough,” she clasps her hands together and trots over to the table toward the back with the cashier behind it.

“You must be an avid listener of music,” the cashier says while noting down all of the prices on the cash register, “and very rich too. These are all very famous and special version vinyls, save the red one.”

“I was wondering if you sold ‘Interstellar Journey’ here by chance?” Kafka asks, drumming her gloved hands on the cheap plastic table.

The cashier looks up. “We might. It’s by that table with the stacks of pop music. There’s a good chance there isn’t. Very popular, very limited. Please hold on.” The cashier walks over to the table and sifts through the stacks.

“You’ve talked about Interstellar Journey before,” Blade comments once the cashier is out of earshot. “Aren’t there digitally recorded versions of it?”

Kafka nods. “The digital versions are nice, but I want a physical copy. It’s like reading books: while electronic copies are good, you’d want something to actually hold and have in your hands. Besides, the theme of the song fits the Nameless, no? Maybe I can find one and give it to them. Maybe they already have one.”

Blade visibly hesitates before querying, “Why don’t you ask?”

She shakes her head. “It’s very clear they don’t want anything to do with me. Especially the trailblazer.” Her voice turns somber. In truth, she does want to connect with the trailblazer. It’s only a bit upsetting that they don’t want to do the same.

Alas. Blade is quiet after that, and the cashier returns with empty hands. “I’m sorry,” the cashier says, “It’s not there.”

“It’s okay. How much?” Kafka gestures to the records and reaches into her purse for her wallet, but Blade catches her wrist. She looks at him.

“Let me pay,” he says and pulls out his own wallet. It’s worn, and the leather is cracked.

The cashier smiles, and Kafka is sure they know something she doesn’t.

Blade hands over a large sum of money. She definitely has to treat him to something nice later, like a brand new wallet or something that she sees fit.

There is the distinct sound of fire fizzling; then, a giant boom outside. Gasps and exclaims from the crowd outside the tent, and Kafka can feel silly, childish excitement bubbling up.

The fireworks have started.

“We should go watch the fireworks,” Kafka tells Blade in Xianzhou. “Wolfie wants us to record the fireworks for her before they pick us up.”

Blade collects the bag of records and follows her out. Kafka grabs ahold of his wrist as they head further into the square, pushing people aside to get a better view of the fireworks, and — Blade is pulled away by the crowd, and she no longer feels the warmth of his skin against her palm.

Kafka stops. She looks behind her. He’s gone, but the fireworks have started. She wasn’t lying when she said Silver Wolf wanted a recording of Earthian fireworks.

Silver Wolf will have to wait. There is no hint of Blade’s iconic hair color (as if she can see that in the darkness), nor is there any sign of his tall figure. Kafka sighs and retraces her steps, slipping out of the crowd and hanging around the edges.

Blade will have to find her here, and Silver Wolf will have to work with this view.

Thankfully, Kafka is tall. She turns her phone on record and follows the path of the firework as it bursts into brilliant, shimmering sparks of color tracing the shape of a heart in the night sky. The crowd cheers after each explosion. She doesn’t know what Silver Wolf finds so engrossing about watching fireworks that they must be recorded or else she will do unspeakable things to humanity, but Kafka likes to uphold promises.

She must’ve been standing there, alone, for at least two minutes. Did Blade walk off because something caught his eye?

Kafka wants him to be here, watching the start of the fireworks with her.

Where is Blade? This is unlike him.

She records what seems like enough for Silver Wolf and shuts off her phone. She turns.

“Kafka,” Blade calls.

“Where were you, Bladie? I was worried,” she teases but sobers up when she sees what he’s holding in his unbandaged hand. A thin disk and a box. Now it’s her turn to be curious and surprised. A firework explodes behind them. All she can focus on is Blade.

He is flustered. It’s weirdly easy to get him flustered, at least when it comes to Kafka. “I found the vinyl you wanted.” He lifts his unbandaged hand, the arm bare of any bags since they are all moved to his other arm, and shows her the vinyl of “Interstellar Journey” and a box of chocolates.

Oh.

Oh .

“Are they… for me, Bladie?” she asks the obvious while taking both the vinyl and the box.

“Yes,” he answers. “It’s for you.”

“Ah,” she looks at the vinyl. The meaning behind the box of chocolates is too much to process. “Where did you find this?”

“It was on the floor. I saw it on the way here, so I left and went back to buy it for you. I’m sorry I worried you, Kafka.” Blade genuinely sounds guilty, voice akin to a sad little puppy. For such a scary-looking man who has the blood of thousands on those calloused hands, he can be unbelievably sweet sometimes.

Kafka looks at him. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her, watching for her response. “Thank you. I am… I am beyond grateful for this, Blade.”

“Bladie — ” he corrects, then sputters. This evening’s first times are unprecedented. “Oh.”

Kafka laughs. “Seems like it grew on you, Bladie ~ ”

Blade smiles, and Kafka is so startled, surprised for the second time that evening, that she stops smiling.

It’s truly beautiful when that man smiles.

Kafka feels like she knows what fear is, in that moment, when he smiles. Fear for what, she isn’t sure. But it’s fear, and something else, all the same.

“Kafka,” Blade mumbles. “Do you like it?”

She blinks back the sting in her eyes; she is not that moved by this affectionate gesture. No one has done this for her before. And to think Blade, of all people, is the one who buys her chocolates and the vinyl she so wanted? This is like some cheesy romance movie.

But they do not kiss. They do not exchange fond versions of “I love you”. This relationship is still strictly professional, and they are both too scared. Of something.

Nevertheless, ignoring the pounding in her chest,

Kafka takes Blade’s hand in hers.

He stiffens, and she is so scared she made the wrong move; but, then, his shoulders drop and the tenseness leaks out of him like a gentle exhale.

“No one has done this for me before,” she admits when she is sure Blade isn’t going to pull away.

“They are wrong to not,” he firmly says.

She gives him a watery smile. “Thank you, Bladie.”

He squeezes her hand. She holds on tighter like a lifeline.

A grand, marvelous firework explodes in the town square, then another, then several other smaller ones. Kafka and Blade are both framed by the glittering sparkles of the grandeur, their framed silhouettes against the light connected by their intertwined hands as they watch the fireworks together, underneath the watchful gaze of the stars, of Destiny.

#melancholic-hues #writing-hues #blade x kafka #honkai star rail #kafka x blade #hsr blade #hsr kafka #blafka #kafblade #kafblade week 2024

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bestaircoolermanufacturer · 2 days ago

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