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samkerrworshipper · 6 months ago

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the lawn is dead. pt.2

hi! i wrote a part 2! i’m on a unofficial hiatus but had some inspiration the last few days and had to finish this. hope it provides a little bit more comfort then the last chapter .. sorry xo

warnings: suicidal themes, self harm themes, themes of depression, anxiety, dark thoughts. viewer discretion advised.

You can describe the carpet of this office better then most people can describe themselves.

It’s a rug, for the most part, except for the where it’s clear a person has chosen laziness in favour of lifting up the heavier furniture to place the rug down underneath it. Where the rug doesn’t cover, there is bleak grey carpet that feels more boring then the time you spend in this room.

Where the carpet lacks in literally everything, the rug makes up for it blindingly.

It’s a messy mixture of far too many colours, pinks, purples, blues, greens and neutrals. It doesn’t make any sense in your mind, why somebody would chose for the focal point of their room to be a rug that doesn’t match with any of the furniture. It’s another sign that the furniture came before the rug, all of the furniture is dark mahogany, beautiful pieces that look as if they’ve come from and English period piece, whereas the rug looks so modern it’s almost painful.

The rest of the furniture has been picked with similar taste.

The painting on the wall looks like what a child would vomit after going to a birthday party. Every time you’ve come here you’ve had a new analogy, but this week that is the one, it looks like stomach contents and you can’t get past it, to the point it’s made you physically nauseated.

From the painting moves onto the bookshelf, where there is a odd mix of medical textbooks, classics and selfawareness books, all stacked in such disarray that you have to keep your eyes away because it makes you uncomfortable.

Beyond the furniture is your psychologist, with her stupid fucking note pad, stupid glasses perched on the very tip of her nose and stupidly calm face that never really changed.

She was supposed to be a specialist, the best of the best, supposed to be the greatest and getting to the bottom of the most famous athletes problems and yet you found pride in alluding her.

One hour, every four days was what you were down to now, a couple of weeks ago it had been every other day and that had been fucking torture.

Sometimes all you wanted to do was rip her eyeballs out, or her brains, or something else. You swore she made your ears bleed and your will to live deteriorate with every second and it was already pretty low.

“You can’t avoid my question forever.”

It was also that annoying tone that sent you, the sort of tone that meant she knew that technically for the whole of the hour she could ask you whatever she pleased and you were technically supposed to answer her. Defiance on your end just ended up in you being suspended from something else that made your life just a tiny bit more liveable.

“No, I haven’t talked to Mapi yet.”

You’ve been avoiding it, there have bits and pieces of homework from your therapist, but this one is by far the hardest.

“How about Alexia, how does she feel about that.”

You don’t want to tell her that you and Alexia are in shambles as it is, add on the pressure of her best friend being psychologically destroyed because of you and just talking about any of it at all and it’s like dynamite.

“Supportive.”

Your therapist nods, but in the way that you know she doesn’t quite believe you.

“Have you started to reintegrate with the team? I know last time we talked you mentioned that before the incident you’d been feeling quite isolated because of your ankle injury. It’s important that you start to normalise your life again before you start to self isolate.”

You don’t call it self-isolation, you like to call it self protection. You protect yourself by pushing against the grain, by keeping to yourself. It’s a lot easier that way.

“I’ve been busy.”

It’s a lie and a blatant one, your days are filled with complete nothingness. You can’t play football, not until she clears you, and you know that it’s not going to happen anytime soon based on the trend of your current sessions. There has been the same amount of progress as there was two weeks ago when you started with her. You shut down at every attempt she makes to try and open you up, you talk when you have to. It’ll probably get you sent back to a ward. You don’t remember much from your transition from the hospital to home, but you do remember signing something that referred to you making significant process or else you would be sent back.

Progress for your therapist is getting more then two word responses from you. You’re aware she’s in kahoots with Alexia, that Alexia is probably providing her more information then you are.

“You’re giving me the look that means that you’re writing something down along the lines of ‘unncooperative’.”

She is also in kahoots with the staff at Barcelona, another thing you signed was that she would work in conjunction with the clubs doctors to get you back to where you were, or somewhere in the vicinity.

They know every time you have a bad session, you’re guaranteed a consolation call from one of the coaches or even sometimes a teammate check-in telling you how brave you are and how strong you are for doing this.

You don’t agree, you nearly took the cowards way out and you’re proud of it. You wish it had fucking worked, every single second, of every single day, you wish you’d succeeded, wished that this hadn’t all ended up how it did.

“That’s not what I wrote, I wrote a observation. Uncooperative would be you refusing to speak to me like you did for our first two sessions, even if you lie it’s still trying.”

You don’t want to be curious of her, you’ve tried to give her as little attention as possible.

You’ve adapted the act that you call, therapised you.

You do your best job of smiling here and there, or at least when you know that you’re supposed to. Therapised you extends to a few people, Alexia, coaches, physios, people on the street.

You believe you’ve become a seasoned liar.

The funniest part is that sometimes you start to believe your act, you start to believe that all the ash and embers in your chest is really alight with flames, like you’re truly alive.

But then, you would pause, sit down, lie down, dissasociate and you would be reminded that that wasn’t your body. Your body wasn’t a place of life and prosper, it was as dead as anywhere else.

“What was the observation?”

You try not to be curious over her, or curious in general, you keep everything to yourself.

“You’ve told me time and time again that you attempted because you believed that not a single person would care if you were gone. Yet you wrote a letter, you knew that somebody would care, somebody would miss you. Guilt is what kept you from doing it earlier and guilt was what kept you from vanishing without a trace. Your conscience was clean in your own words, but that’s not true, your conscience was anything but clean. So what pushed you over?”

You hate that therapists have a way of worming out weird bits of information that they can use against you to worm out more bits of information, like they know your brain inside to out.

“My conscience was clean.”

Your therapist pulls her glasses up from her nose and scribbles on her pad again.

“Why’d you write a note then, specifically why did you write a note to your ex girlfriend?”

There are so many things you could say to that, but you can’t quite find the words.

“Let me rephrase to make it easier. When you were in the hospital, and Alexia reacted so viscerally, you weren’t surprised. You expected her to feel something about what happened, you didn’t seem surprised at all by her words or actions. You knew that she was going to be hurt by what you did. So, how was your conscience truly clean?”

Thinking about Alexia in the hospital makes you feel as nauseous as the furniture does.

Your still mad at her, still mad at yourself for never changing her as your medical contact and medical proxy. It had all been a clusterfuck.

“I didn’t know Alexia was going to be there, I though that she’d washed her hands of me. I left her a note because I thought there had been things left unsaid between us and I didn’t want to leave that way.”

Your therapist nods, she doesn’t scribble this time and that makes the itchy feeling all over you die down a little bit.

“Alright, let’s move on. Your ankle injury, how’s that going?”

You look to the window, it’s a horrible day outside, just your luck when you’d chosen to walk to your therapists office on what was supposed to be a 20 degree day with sunny skies. It was the epitome of your life, high expectations, low realities.

“Well three weeks between a hospital and psychiatric facility are probably the best thing anybody can do for a injury.”

You let out a self-deprecating chuckle and your therapist does nothing but scribble.

“So you’ve been doing your rehab as advised then?”

Rehab, both kinds, is mind-bogglingly boring. You go to your therapist and she tells you all the ways you have to work to rehab your brain, she gives you medication after medication and exercise after exercise. The same happens every time you see your physio, test after test, exercise after exercise.

Your stuck in the same cycle of boredom, it makes you wonder how people ever expect you to get better when all you are doing is living in a constant state of suffering.

“The physios are happy with me, say that if I continue on the track that I am I should be back on the pitch in a few weeks, with psychological clearance.”

At the current therapeutic rate your going at, you don’t think you’ll see a psychological clearance until your 50th birthday, if you’re lucky.

“How does it feel coming back from that injury, especially considering how the decline in your physical health simulatenously resulted in the decrease in your mental health?”

You keep silent, because you know that if you talk then it’s doing to be something emotional. When you don’t know how to answer questions without exposing yourself you opt to keep quiet, it’s a obvious tell that you feel uncomfortable with the question. But giving away a tell is a whole lot better then starting an emotional downpour.

“Y/n?”

You look at your shoes. You only were allowed to start wearing one on your bad foot a week ago, and you’d forgotten how hard it was to coordinate shoes with your clothes. This morning you’d thought that they matched with your pants but now they look much darker then they truly are against the grey carpet. The mix of your navy adidas that you might have stolen from Mapi’s wardrobe a couple of months ago when she was complaining about the amount of shoes she’d been sent with your grey wide leg pants was a interesting choice but therapy wasn’t a fashion parade. The shoes don’t quite fit your feet, that’sc how you remembered they weren’t yours. When you’d taken them, it had been during some kind of team bonding night at Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment. Life had been so good, Alexia and you had been so good and for once you’d kind of felt like you were beginning to fit in.You’d never felt that way before that era of your life.

But like most things, it was now a far distant memory.

“The injury wasn’t what made me depressed.”

It’s a half truth, you suppose. Yes, the injury definitely contributed to the factors that trigger your depression, but it wasn’t a sole cause.

“I disagree.”

More scribbling on her note pad, in your opinion it must be some psychological form of torture. You’ll google it when you get home, check to make sure that this isn’t a form of manipulation to somehow convince you to say the things that she wants you to.

“If you disagree then tell me why you think that.”

It’s daring of you to say, there is nearly a 99.99 percent chance that whatever she says you are going to deny vehemently. Even if she hits it right on the nail.

“I think that you don’t give yourself enough grace for the challenges that you’ve gone through. You came to Barcelona because you were running from things, from your past. You’ve never stopped running, truly. Everytime somebody gets close enough to begin to try and worm their feet into your shoes to try and relive some of it with you, you shut them down and stop it. For most people, shoes are a means of getting to where they want, for you, you keep running because if you stop you feel like you’ll suffocate, like your feet will be wrapped up in barb wire and you’ll be stuck. For whatever reason, you don’t think anybody will ever be able to empathise with that. You think that if you ever let anybody in for long enough that they learn what you’ve been running from that they’ll try and stop you, that you’ll be faced with everything that you’ve ever struggled with. So, you keep running, and running, you’ve always been in a state of escape. With your relationship, you finally stopped running, you slowed to a jog. Then, you got injured. All of a sudden you felt like you were stuck and instead of letting yourself finally come to a stop and accepting help and complete love for once in your life, and being vulnerable. You chose to start running again, running from your friends, running from your team, running from every single good thing that you’d gotten in your life until you were so consumed with all the running that you just wanted it all to stop. But you didn’t know how to stop parts of your life without stopping other parts, so you chose to stop it all.”

You don’t know what to say for a few seconds. You’ve never had the feeling that you’ve been experiencing your whole life summed up, you don’t know how to feel about it.

You look at your psychologist, and somehow she looks back at you in a way that you somehow feel like she understands, you’ve never really felt that way about her.

It’s always felt like she’s judging you, like it’s her job to judge every single thing you say. Or at least that’s the way you’ve always seen it. It’s her job to make sure you don’t fall of the rails again, to make decisions about what you can and can’t do. It’s never been a possibility for you that maybe she’s here for a little bit more then just the business side of it all.

“Is that it? Did you come to a point where it felt like you had no other option but to just make it all stop?”

You bite your lip so hard you think it might just bleed, it’s a mission to try and stop the tears that have begun to cling to the back of your eyes at bay. You’ve never cried during a therapy session, and there is no reason why today should be different. The amount of people you’ve cried in front of is limited to a very, very short list of people and you don’t intend for your psychologist to be added.

“It would be okay if that was it. It’s okay to admit that for you at that time it felt like there was no other option but to make it all stop.”

You feel muzzled, like you can’t speak without admitting to something that you don’t want to.

“I thought it would make it all better.”

Your therapist puts down her notepad, and you feel a whole load of anxiety rush out of you.

“You thought it would make what better?”

You keep your tooth pinned to your lip, if it draws blood, it draws blood. The pain helps to take your focus off of the word vomit you can feel coming up.

“Everyone else’s lives.”

Your response is croaky, and when your therapist points to the glass of water you don’t shake your head like normal, you find yourself reaching for it and taking a few tentative sips.

“What about your life, what about making your own life better?”

You take a few more sips, because it stalls the conversation for long enough that you can think up an answer that doesn’t make it sound like you are completely insane.

“I was never really thinking about it like that.”

You look at her, eye to eye again, and there is this weird understanding between the two of you. You can feel it, whether or not it’s real, for the first time you feel like you aren’t crazy for thinking the way that you do. It’s a weird kind of safety that you’ve never had.

“For a minute, I want you to close your eyes and think about exactly what you want, whether it’s the future, it’s right now. Not football, not other people, nobody else. Just you.”

You humour her, and close your eyes.

For a few seconds, you can’t think of much. You’ve never been a future thinker, not beyond emergency plans and second options.

You think about death for a few seconds, a couple of weeks ago it was all you could think of. Permanent, irreversible disappearance. Even then though, it wasn’t what you were actually yearning for, not truly, it was just an easy solution to complex problems, problems that still haven’t been solved.

You think long and hard, and eventually you find a pleasantness.

You want to resolve things with Alexia, you know that for sure. It’s been impossible trying to navigate your relationship in your new reality. You want to get to a place where it’s less impossible. You want happiness with her, pure happiness. You also want some kind of return to football, you don’t know how. You’ve never really played football because it’s what you love, you’ve never loved your sport, it’s more been about having something that could take you places when inevitable wherever you had been was no longer an option because you’d somehow fucked it up.

You want a better relationship with yourself, you want to understand why you think the way you do and why you can’t think the same way and be the same way as everyone. You want to get past the fear you have that you will never be the same.

When you have nothing else to think about, you open your eyes, to your psychologist smiling at you.

“That’s our hour, I’m really happy to leave this here and circle back to some of it in a couple of days. The progress you’re making is definitely getting bigger and I’m happy to sign off on you getting some hours in the gym if your physios are happy with it. I’ll call the team tonight and we can work out a plan that works best.”

You’re in slight disbelief as she speaks.

“You’re sure?”

You stay seated for the sake of making sure that you haven’t somehow dreamt up what she’s just said.

“If you try and make some progress with your homework. I want you to try and talk to Mapi, a text message, coffee, something. I want you to talk to Alexia beyond her being a caregiver for you and I want you to make progress with your teammates, don’t avoid the gym if you know they are going to be there, don’t avoid team events, dip a toe in the water with them and I can guarantee you will have a very different outcome then what you think.”

Contingencies. One thing you’ve learnt about therapy is that there are always contingencies, it’s always a give and take, never one or the other.

You nod your head anyways, somehow, with her weird manipulation games you’ve managed to agree to something that the version of you from and hour ago never would have.

“I’ll try.”

Your therapist smiles and stands up, for whatever reason there is always a part of you that loves the end of your sessions but also never wants to leave.

Whether it seems like it or not, you actually do want to get better, you just don’t know what better looks like for you and that’s scary. You’ve never met the version of yourself that is ‘better’ or ‘normal’. You can’t say that you want to be your old self because there hasn’t ever been a version of yourself that feels better. You’ve always been in the slums, always been dragging yourself through the thickest mud to try and make it to the end of a day or month or year. You don’t actually want to survive like that, you want to live your life properly, or whatever non-sluggish life looks like for you.

Your still desperately trying to work that out.

Alexia is waiting in the carpark as usual, it’s always the same carpark, always the same consolation hot chocolate in her hands afterwards.

Once you’ve sat down in her passenger seat, put on your seatbelt and the takeaway cup is settled in your hands she broaches the topic of your session.

“How was it?”

There is always an awkwardness around your sessions, Alexia picks your up from every one, on the odd occasion she’ll join in if your therapist thinks it would be good. Otherwise, she spends the time sitting in her car and picking up hot drinks.

It’s infinitely awkward between the two of you, but Alexia in your opinion is mostly to blame for that.

She’d been the first person to put her hand up to be your carer, your glorified babysitter.

You know it’s a guilt thing, she feels guilty that part of your pain could have been because of her, even though you’ve insisted time and time again that it wasn’t.

“Fine.”

Therapy is a tough topic for you, mostly because you’ve never wanted to be there in the first place. You’d been tricked into going from the beginning, Alexia insisting that she was taking you to a appointment to check up on your scars when really it had been to your psychologists office. You’d yelled and screamed and insisted that she take you home, but at the end of the day if you ever wanted to play football again it was obvious you were going to have to suck it up.

You hadn’t talked to Alexia for days after that, which is funny because that was less then three weeks ago and now you’re here.

“Fine?”

You nod your head, it’s hard to find words after a normal session, but after this one it’s ever harder.

“I made some progress.”

Alexia nods, you know there are probably a hundred questions going through her head right now, but she won’t ask them. She’s too scared that if she asks them, she’ll get an answer that will terrify her. One that will restart all of the problems, even if that isn’t really how it works. Alexia doesn’t understand mental health, that’s become frighteningly obvious over the past few weeks. She doesn’t understand your struggles because she’s never experienced them. She’s never had self hatred or depression or overwhelming anxiety. It’s what makes you feel so alienated and so out of place amongst your peers. You feel like a shark amongst a sea of dolphins, like you look the same but when it comes down to it you are completely different.

“That’s good, no?”

You nod your head, disguising the grimace on your face by the mouth of the lid on your hot chocolate.

“She says I can start doing some hours in the gym.”

Alexia smiles, big and wide, like it’s her whose been given the good news.

“That’s good bebita, you’ll be on the pitch in no time.”

The pitch. It’s all Alexia cares about.

When you can be back, how she can get you to the point you can be back. Because when Alexia is injured, it’s all she cares about. What she can do to get herself back on the pitch, how she can make the rehab process faster, she thinks of every single logistic and possibility.

You want to make it back to the pitch, or you think you do. But it’s not your priority. It’s become abundantly clear that your main priority has to be yourself, figuring yourself out.

“Mhm.”

You focus your energy on counting how many bike riders pass Alexia’s car as she navigates through peak city traffic. You get to 38 before she interrupts your intense search for every person on two wheels.

“Vicky’s supposed to be coming over later, I promised I’d help her with a school project. I can go to her house instead if you’d prefer?”

Every time Alexia’s broached the topic of teammates you’ve immediately refused any contact, and your immediate reaction is to say no. but you think about what your therapist said.

“I might text Mapi and see if she wants to talk to me.”

You hear the sound of Alexia’s shock in the form of a choken sort of cough, she tries to cover it up by slapping her hand against the wheel of her car, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think that would be a really good idea, bebita, I think she would be really happy to see you.”

You don’t look at Alexia, you don’t want to see the look of perplexion or shock or whatever emotion she’s going through. You haven’t seen Mapi since the hospital, and as little as you remember from then, you remember Mapi very clearly.

She had been just as out of it as you’d been, refusing to leave your bedside but Ingrid having to do everything for her to keep her alive. Every time she visited you, she looked like she’d seen a ghost, or something worse. You weren’t sure what was worse, seeing somebody dead or seeing somebody who was hanging on the cliff of life and death and having to save their life, knowing that if action hadn’t of been taken they would be dead.

Definitely the latter.

“I’ll text her, see if she can come and pick you up before Vicky comes over?”

You nod your head, allowing yourself to focus back on counting your tally, except moving over to motorcycles this time.

You shower with the bathroom door halfway open. There are no sharps anywhere in your apartment, knives, razors, scissors, nail clippers, vegetable peelers, glasses, anything that could cause any kind of bodily harm. For now, you aren’t allowed to be left alone for longer then an hour. You sleep with your bedroom door open and Alexia sleeping in the guest room next door. You eat a set meal plan, you do two hours of rehab every single day, you live on a schedule that is so carefully planned that you have no time to yourself and yet every single moment feels lonely.

It’s a process, you’ve been told. It’s crucial to your recovery that there are measurements in place to assure your ‘success’.

Alexia knocks on your door every five minutes whilst you shower, you yell back every time.

It had become a rule after the first time you’d showered with the door open you’d made a joke about using the shower curtain to harm yourself, because what did they really expect you to be doing?

It hadn’t gone well, Alexia going silent for a few days and a very heated conversation with your psychologist about the inappropriateness of making jokes about suicide.

It was your trauma, it was your fucking story, and everyone was acting like it was their most sensitive issue.

Bathrooms are a bit of a touchy subject, you don’t shower in your ensuite bathroom anymore, you can’t. The room has permanently been blocked off, completely forgotten about.

The first thing you want to do once you’ve ‘recovered’ is leave this apartment, there are to many bad memories, it feels like you’ll never be able to recover if your stuck in the same place that you were in when it all went bad.

It’s a problem for when you can deal with the stress of packing up your whole life and moving it to somewhere.

When you shut the water off and step out of the warm stream you let yourself breathe, showers are the only real alone time you get. Everywhere else you are supervised, watched like a hawk to make sure that you don’t try anything else that could jeopardise your return to football. The reality is that Barca can’t afford to have you sit on the sideline for a whole season, they need you back, they can’t risk another slip up.

Alexia at least gives you the privacy of getting dressed in your own wardrobe, all of your wired bras have been removed, but for the most part it’s all normal.

You get dressed in another sweat suit, it’s become your new uniform over the last few weeks, no draw strings of course.

Your hair gets swept into a messy bun, it’s too much effort to deal with the brushing and braiding and tying that you would have normally gone through with a couple of weeks ago. You aren’t allowed to wear jewellery anymore so your accessories consist of pretty much nothing. You’re bare from the bones to your clothes, your soul feels as bare as the rest of your body.

You’re allowed to wear laced shoes, but you often opt not to, slip on birkenstocks or uggs are just easier. The Barcelona January chill has been getting to you recently, so you upt for your ugg boots.

Your outfit choice is the most choice you get in your day, so you try and put as little thinking into it as possible, it’s easier for you to just succumb to the reality that everything in your life is controlled by other people.

By the time you’ve finished, you’re towing very close to the time Mapi had told Alexia she’d come and meet you. You collect the things that you might need from your vanity and shove them in your pocket, before making your way out to your living room.

It’s unofficially become Alexia’s office, her laptop and books cover your dining table now. She lives out of your apartment, leaves only for training and barcelona commitments, so it’s fair to say that she’s made herself at home.

When you were living together before, it had bothered you more, having her things everywhere. Alexia is a organiser, of everything and everybody but herself. You’d spend hours telling her to pick up her shoes from random spots around the apartment floor or getting her to pick up random clothing items laying on top of pieces of furniture. This mess is different, it reflects how the situation is different. There is nothing comfortable about your predicament, it’s not the same kind of comfortable coexistence you had when you were dating Alexia.

There is a boundary between the two of you now and it makes it all so much more confusing.

Alexia isn’t just your friend or your teammate, she’s you caregiver, the person who holds you accountable, unofficially the person who is supposed to keep you from doing anything to yourself. It adds a whole layer of stress to the situation, you can’t relax around her the same way you used to.

Your relationship is never going to be the same, but parts of you wished that Alexia hadn’t taken over the burden of caring for you, because maybe the two of you could work on rebuilding yourselves as a couple instead of Alexia trying to rebuild you as a person, as if you are a broken lego set that needed to be put back together.

She spends most of her time in your living room, doesn’t push the boundary of your bedroom unless it’s needed.

She’s sat at the kitchen table, preparing herself to help with whatever project it is that Vicky needs help with.

“Shouldn’t Vicky have maybe asked one of the younger girls? You’re practically ancient now, they probably teach the kids these days history from when you were growing up.”

Whatever Alexia looks like she’s going to be helping with looks like something she’s definitely not qualified in, although Alexia’s never the person to say no.

“You’re acting like I’m a dinosaur, I’m only four years older then you.”

She rolls her eyes at you and it feels so normal, for a second you feel so much more normal. Life would be so much easier if everybody stopped treating you like a fine fucking piece of china. An eye roll here or there, a yell here or there, some kind of emotion beyond sympathy would be nice.

“I mean, in comparison to Vicky you’re pretty much from the stone ages.”

Alexia rolls her eyes again, she looks like she’s about to fight back against you but a knock at the door silences you both.

All of a sudden the little smile is gone and the air goes thick again, thick with the reminder that you can’t just exist in a bubble of nothingness were nobody else exists and you can just be free from everything.

Alexia gets up to open the door, and you let her, allowing yourself to loiter around the table and enjoy the moment for just a little bit longer. It’s that moment that might just get you through what is about to happen.

Alexia calls for you and you know it’s Mapi, you know it’s Mapi because Mapi won’t step foot in your apartment.

Ingrid had come to visit when you’d come home, along with a handful of other people, but Mapi hadn’t been one of them. Ingrid had explained that it had been to hard for her, that she’d made it to the door but couldn’t come in, and you couldn’t find it in you to blame her.

Mapi smiles at you when she sees you, it’s the first time you’ve seen her since the hospital and the both of you look very different since then.

She looks less dead, that’s the first thing you take notice of. She doesn’t look like she would blow away into a puff of smoke if a gust of wind came past. She looks good, she looks healed.

Mapi and you don’t talk, for whatever reason, you take the normal walk you would every sunday morning before it happened.

Down from your apartment, onto the main street, up to the mouth of the road, across the street and then onto the boardwalk.

It’s the main reason you chose your apartment, it’s right next to the beach. Perfect for post matchday swims and a morning walk on the beach. It used to be yours and Mapi’s pregame routine and it’s easy to fall into the rhythm of your feet moving down the sidewalk.

No words are spoken until the two of you are seated on the sand, a wordless agreement that you both come to when your toes hit the beach.

You’re both seated, your eyes looking over the horizon. Your too scared to break the silence, so you wait for Mapi.

“You look good, chica.”

You nod your head, you feel better, you must look better then how you did.

“I feel better.”

Mapi nods, when her hand reaches out to sit on top of your own on the sand, you don’t flinch away, it feels good to have a physical connection with a person who isn’t Alexia.

The silence falls over the two of you again, except this time it feels less uncomfortable. You let it linger for a little bit, before you feel in a place to speak.

“I need to say thank you. I know I said some things in the hospital, I meant it in the moment but I want to take it back now. You saved me, you did something so brave and amazing and the version of me now is so grateful that you did.”

Mapi stops your rant, before you can say something else.

“I would have done it for anybody else.”

The problem is you think, that you aren’t anybody else. It would be so much easier to give cpr to a random person on the street and never see them again, never have to be worried that you would see them again and there would be some kind of problem.

“But you did it for me. You saved me from myself, and I want you to know that I genuinely am so thankful for you. You didn’t choose the easy option and I put you in a extremely hard position. If anything had of happened to me, you would have blamed yourself and it wouldn’t have been your fault but you would have felt like it was.”

Mapi nods, and then you hear a sniffle and it makes you feel horrible.

Mapi’s crying, she’s crying and you don’t know what to do.

“You begged me to reverse it, in the hospital, you didn’t say some things. You begged me to stab you or do something. You told me it was my fault you were alive and that it was my responsibility to undo what I’d done.”

You take a deep breath, you didn’t remember it being that bad, but you remember Alexia telling you that some of the things you’d said had been unrepeatable.

“I can’t reverse what I said, in that moment I was in so much pain Maps. I actually can’t tell you how much pain i was in, all I wanted was to disappear. I’m working through not feeling that way and that starts by apologising. You did not deserve to experience what you did. You did not deserve to see what you did. You did not deserve to hear what I said to you. I am sorry. There is nothing I can say that will make any of it okay, I am sorry that for whatever reason god chose you to be the person burdened with this. I am so sorry.”

Mapi sniffles again. You knew that the possibility of no reconciliation was possible, that Mapi would reject any offer of apologies you had, you’d just really hoped it wouldn’t be like that.

“You’ve been like a little sister to me. I know you didn’t feel like we were that close, but I saw so much of me in you from when I was younger, and that was part of the reason I ended up at your apartment that night. Because I was worried, more then anybody else. I had this weird feeling, and I hated that I was right about it. You were like my little sister, and I watched as they strapped you onto a gurney and wheeled you off whilst telling me that they would try their hardest. I don’t blame you, there is no blame for something like this. But I need you to understand that I can’t just get over what I www, I’m working through it, I’m trying. My therapist has really been helping me, but it’s not going to disappear.”

You nod, Mapi and you have been through two mirroring experiences, and oddly you feel the same way about your own therapy. You’re working through it, you’re trying, but nothing that has happened is ever going to disappear, with yourself or with your peers.

“Maps, you’re allowed to experience however you want. If you never want to see me again I won’t hate you.”

Mapi shakes her head.

“I don’t know how I feel yet, I just need you to know that I understand that the you right now is different to the you from weeks ago, and you are entitled to separate yourself from that person. You don’t have to be that person if you don’t want to be. Let yourself live in the new version of you, the old version died back then.”

You bite your lip, there is beginning to become a permanent divet from your front teeth, you like it in a weird way.

“I’m trying, I’m really trying.”

Mapi nods, raising her arm from your hand, to your shoulders, bringing you into her side.

“We’ll try together then, huh? You try for me and I’ll try for you?”

You nod your head, and for the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re totally alone in the battle that you’re fighting. It’s still very much your battle, but it feels like you have somebody in your corner letting you know that you are going to be okay.

—————————————

well aware it’s not edited… if u have an issue with that such my dick xoxo

hope you enjoyed !!!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶

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collapsedsquid · 9 months ago

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I doubt it was predicted or designed, but when the practice emerged of delegating industrial policy to local governments, China invented a structural form of antitrust. The central state declares what industries are to be favored, and then many localities toss contenders into the ring. The unsurprising result is competition. At the national level, with astonishing speed, industries with world-class competences emerge, even when — especially when — no "national champion" comes to dominate. Great industries are what a nation wants, not great firms. Firms are just the players. They perform extraordinary feats, and we cheer them, but they come and go. The industry is the league. It is what endures and delivers decade after decade. A decade ago China did not produce electric vehicles. Now it is the world leader. It is the same story with batteries, solar panels, steel. In the US, we tend to provide government support to established national champions, Boeing perhaps, or Intel. How is that working for us? Large consolidated firms become specialists in exploiting market power and political influence rather than any technical facet of production. What if we financed state governments to field local heroes and compete in the big leagues? It boggles the American imagination to think that medium-sized, US-state-level enterprises could compete in high-tech, capital-intensive industries. But isn't China's experience an existence proof? Shouldn't the share-buyback-heavy, technical-achievement-light experience of firms like Boeing and Intel chasten our conventional wisdom?

Must do socialism so we have intense competition between the Colorado smartphone and the Massachusetts smartphone

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shadesofmauve · 2 months ago

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Alliance Normandy SR2 redesign: Deck 3

The crew deck sits in the middle of the ship, where the hull is widest. This is where design for a larger crew really comes into play.

Sleeping and other bodily functions

The main bathrooms are roughly the same shape and location as in-game, but people walking by no longer have a great view of the showers every time the doors open.

Enlisted racks

24 enlisted racks line the corridor to the main battery, housing the bulk of the rank-and-file. Bunks are stacked two high, with uniform lockers to one side and coffin-lockers under the mattress.Footholds in between sets of bunks let you can reach the top without stepping on the one below.

Junior officers' quarters

I assume a spaceship needs more technical expertise and less grunt work, so the crew is weighted towards officers and highly-trained technical specialists. These specialists fill non-command roles and bunk with the junior officers. Joker (flight lieutenant) and Traynor (comms specialist) berth here. So does Kaidan, because at the point he came aboard the guest stateroom was occupied by Khalisah Al-Jilani, and bunking with marines would muddy command waters because he seriously outranks Vega.

Bunks are two-high with coffin lockers just like the enlisted racks, but officers rate four inches more elbow room and two inches more to stretch out their toesies. They also get a bit more privacy, a little more storage, and access to the lounge overlooking the eezo core*.

*I gave them a lounge because in ME3 you occasionally find officers chatting at a table in the middle of the bunk room, and if anyone did that while I was trying to sleep three feet away I'd commit murder.

Senior officers' country

Miranda's old quarters, which Liara claims in ME3, are large enough to house the entire senior staff in staterooms, with one extra for guests and a shared head. Each room has one permanent bunk (two inches wider and four longer than junior officers; swank) and one fold-out upper-bunk in case of extra passengers.

In Sunset and Evening Star the first thing Shepard does on the Citadel is sign on a first officer**, old navy hand Lieutenant Commander Nguyen. The first thing Nguyen does is fill the missing weapons and ops roles (she heads the navigation department herself, since it's a small ship).

With Shepard in the admiral's quarters on deck 1, First Officer Nguyen gets what would have been the captain's cabin on the crew deck (except while Primarch Victus and his aide were aboard; when she gave up her quarters to the turians). Mukerjee, the head of ops, gets the slightly-larger-than-standard cabin intended for the XO.

Garrus has the 'extra' stateroom, as their liaison with the turians. He keeps the desk folded for space and sleeps crouched in one corner; the bunk is useless to him.

**Shepard delegated something! It's a Mass Effect miracle!

Vital ship functions

Main battery

The main battery looks exactly the same, except Garrus isn't sleeping in the corner or constantly fiddling with the guns. In fact, he's never fiddling with the guns. He and Silva were spending hours re-calibrating the thanix cannon to their own preferences whenever the other person's back was turned, and Nguyen stepped in and banned Garrus from the armory before it moved from passive aggression to murderous-interspecies-diplomatic-catastrophe.

AI core

Access to the AI core is from the battery corridor, not through the medical bay.

Medical bay

The medbay is divided into a front office, the main med bay, and an area for major surgery or isolation. There's also a small private cabin for the two members of the medic corps who assist Chakwas.

Life support

The life support corridor has another four enlisted racks, bringing the total enlisted berths on the crew deck to thirty. Life support itself is basically unchanged, except for some added Important Keep People Alive machines. Like engineering, life support systems are also spread throughout the ship.

Food & leisure

Mess & galley

The mess seats 32. It's also all-watch meetings are held, and occasionally movie screenings. Crew can grab shelf-stable snacks, cereal, or recent leftovers from self-serve areas outside the galley, or collect the meal currently on offer at the counter.

The galley feeds three shifts three times a day each, and one watch's breakfast comes immediately before the previous watch's dinner. About a week out, stores of fresh produce are gone, so a lot of food is frozen, freeze dried, or reconstituted. There's always something to eat; one of the two big pots is almost always full of soup, if not both Bread is made from scratch (flour keeps indefinitely, bread doesn't), and there's a flat-top as well as a six-burner range. The food storage in the galley and nearby walk-in are only what the cooks expect to need for the next two days or so; food actually makes up most of the Normandy's cargo, stored on deck 4.

Observation lounges

The observation lounges, important for crew morale and sanity on longer missions, are differentiated by volume. Starboard is generally used for quieter conversation, reading, solo gaming, or study. The Port lounge is for parties and games. (There is no free wet bar, this is a military ship).

Normandy redesign posts

Intro

Loft

Command

Crew

Engineering

Hangar

#mass effect meta #Alliance Normandy SR-2 #Normandy SR2 redesign #BTW my partner named Mukerjee last night #I waffled for awhile about whether it was ops or logistics and whether the role was filled #So they are Officer Not Yet Appearing In Fic #and lack pronouns a first name and a personality #too much to think about when I was busy redesigning the galley #Priorities #Normandy SR-2 #SSV Normandy SR-2 #mass effect #fire the headcan(n)on

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ayeforscotland · 9 months ago

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What is Dataflow? Part 2: Diagrams

This is the second part of a couple of posts about Dataflow, particularly why it's important for the world going forward and relating to the Crowd Strike IT disaster.

Read the first part here.

Before I get into this one today, I wanted to address a couple of things.

Firstly, Dataflow is something that nearly every single person can understand. You do NOT:

Need to have a degree in Computing Science

Need to work in IT

Need to be a data analyst / Spreadsheet master

If any of you see the word 'Data' and feel your eyes glazing over, try and snap out of it because, if you're anything like me, Dataflow is much more approachable as a concept.

Secondly, what do I mean by IT?

Traditionally in most of our media the all-encompassing 'IT department' handles everything to do with technology. But every business works differently and there are many job titles with lots of crossover.

For example, you can be an infrastructure engineer where your focus is on building and maintaining the IT infrastructure that connects your organisation internally and externally. This is a completely different role from an Application Portfolio Manager who is tasked with looking after the Applications used in business processes.

Both are technical people and come under the banner of 'IT' - but their roles are focused in different areas. So just bear that in mind!

Now that's out of the way, let's begin! This one will be a little bit deeper, and questions welcome!

An Intro to Diagrams

You probably do not need a history of why pictures are important to the human race but to cover our bases, ever since we put traced our hands on a cave wall we have been using pictures to communicate.

Jump forward in time and you have engineers like Leonardo Da Vinci drafting engineering schematics.

You get the idea, humans have been creating diagrams (Pictures) for thousands of years. Centuries of refinement and we have much more modern variations.

And there's one main reason why diagrams are important: They are a Common Language.

In this context, a Common Language helps bridge a language gap between disciplines as well as a linguistic gap. A Spanish electrician and a German electrician should be able to refer to the same diagram and understand each other, even if they don't know each other's language.

The reason they can do this is because they're are international standards which govern how electrical diagrams are created.

A Common Language for Digital?

Here's an image I've shown to clients from governments and institutions to global organisations.

Everything around us, from the products we use to the bridges we drive over and the buildings we live, work, enjoy and shop in had diagrams backing them.

You would not build a skyscraper without a structural engineering diagram, you would not build an extension on your house if an architect couldn't produce a blueprint.

Why is there not an equivalent for the Digital World and for Dataflow?

Where is the Digital Common Language?

This is the bit where the lightbulb goes on in a lot of people's heads. Because, as I mentioned in Part 1, the flow of data is the flow of information and knowledge. And the common mistake is that people think of dataflow, and only ever think about the technology.

Dataflow is the flow of information between People, Business Processes *and* Technology Assets.

It is not reserved to Technology specialists. When you look at the flow of data, you need to understand the People (Stakeholders) at the top, the processes that they perform (and the processes which use the data) and the technology assets that support that data.

The reason why this is important is because it puts the entire organisation in context.

It is something that modern businesses fail to do. They might have flow charts and network diagrams, and these are 'alright' in specific contexts, but they fall to pieces when they lack the context of the full organisation.

For example, here is a Network Diagram. It is probably of *some* value to technical personnel who work in infrastructure. Worth bearing in mind, some organisations don't even have something like this.

To be absolutely clear, this diagram will hold some value for some people within the organisation. I'm not saying it's completely useless. But for almost everyone else, it is entirely out of context, especially for any non-technical people.

So it doesn't help non-technical people understand why all of these assets are important, and it doesn't help infrastructure teams articulate the importance of any of these assets.

What happens if one of those switches or routers fails? What's the impact on the organisation? Who is affected? The diagram above does not answer those questions.

On the other side of the business we have process diagrams (aka workflow diagrams) which look like this.

Again we run into the same problem - This is maybe useful for some people working up at the process layer, but even then it doesn't provide context for the stakeholders involved (Are there multiple people/departments involved throughout) and it doesn't provide any context for technical personnel who are responsible for maintaining the technology that supports this process.

In short, nobody has the big picture because there is not a common language between Business & IT.

Conclusion

So what do we do? Well we need to have a Common Language between Business & IT. While we need people with cross-functional knowledge, we also need a common language (or common framework) for both sides of the organisation to actually understand each other.

Otherwise you get massively siloed departments completely winging their disaster recovery strategies when things like Crowd Strike goes down.

Senior Management will be asked questions about what needs to be prioritised and they won't have answers because they aren't thinking in terms of Dataflow.

It's not just 'We need to turn on everything again' - It's a question of priorities.

Thing is, there's a relatively simple way to do it, in a way that looking at any engineering diagram feels simple but actually has had decades/centuries of thought behind it. It almost feels like complete common sense.

I'll save it for Part 3 if you're interested in me continuing and I'll make a diagram of my blog.

The important thing is mapping out all the connections and dependencies, and there's not some magic button you press that does it all.

But rigorous engineering work is exactly that, you can't fudge it with a half-arsed attempt. You need to be proactive, instead of reacting whenever disaster strikes.

#AyeforScotland #crowd strike #Dataflow #diagrams #workflow

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city-of-ladies · 20 days ago

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Marietta Barovier (fl. 15th–early 16th century) was one of the rare female glass artists of her time, renowned for both her technical innovations and artistic mastery. Coming from a family with a long tradition of glassworking, she left an indelible mark on the craft.

Inventing the rosette beads

Marietta was the daughter of Angelo Barovier, a master glassmaker, and lived on the island of Murano in the Venice lagoon. Her family, active in the glass trade since the late 13th century, was one of the most esteemed in the field.

In 1460, Marietta inherited her father’s workshop and managed it alongside her brother, Giovanni. In 1480, she revolutionized Venetian glass art by creating the Rosette, a type of intricately layered bead. These beads were made from multiple layers of glass, their structure revealed by the fluted edges at either end. So famous were they that, in 1519, conquistador Hernán Cortés wore a necklace of such beads when he met Emperor Moctezuma II, exchanging it for the Aztec ruler’s gold necklace.

Rosette beads

A renowned glass painter

Beyond bead-making, Marietta was celebrated for her skill as a glass painter. She and another woman, Elena de Laudo, were the only two female artisans among the fourteen specialist glass painters recorded between 1443 and 1517. Like Marietta, Elena hailed from a family of glass artists.

These painters worked with enamel on richly tinted glass—most commonly sapphire blue, but occasionally emerald green or aubergine purple. In 1487, a document records that Marietta was granted a special privilege to construct a kiln specifically for producing “her beautiful unusual and not blown works.”

Although no works can be definitively attributed to her, her family’s inventory provides valuable clues about her creations. One entry mentions a cup painted with a portrait of the poet Dante. Some speculate that she may have contributed to the Coppa Barovier, now housed in Murano’s Glass Museum.

Coppa Barovier

Objects from her workshop featured elaborate enamel decorations, including floral motifs, geometric patterns, and gilded details. Light blue, white, red, and green were the preferred enamel colors. While sacred themes were present, her designs more frequently drew from secular, mythological, and allegorical sources, inspired by contemporary miniatures and woodcuts.

Marietta Barovier likely passed away in the early 16th century.

If you enjoy this blog, consider supporting me on Ko-fi!

Further reading:

Mariacher Giovanni, “Barovier”, Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani - Volume 6

Small Meredith, Inventing the World: Venice and the Transformation of Western Civilization

Syson Luke, Objects of Virtue: Art in Renaissance Italy

#marietta barovier #elena de laudo #history #women in history #women's history #15th century #16th century #historyedit #italy #italian history #venice #murano #venetian glass #women at work #businesswomen #female artists

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pathologicalreid · 7 months ago

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Margot you hate Maeve? :(

Whyyy? She‘s so pretty and has a nice voice and at the end of the day I support Womens rights and wrongs so hating her do keeping her ex-fiancé as a secret is not a solid reason to me! (lowkey joking but still whyyy?

long winded answer to this question below the cut

i do hate maeve! but i love beth riesgraf (if you ever want to see her in another show she’s in leverage her character’s name is parker and the episodes are in full on youtube)

maeve is a mary sue! she’s brought into the show and presented to viewers as a “perfect match” for spencer. we’re given a few phone calls periodically from their 8 months together and it’s just not enough to convince me as an audience member that spencer was in love with her. she’s even referred to as the love of his life which just gets further ruined as the show goes on (re: in season 15 when spencer implies he’s been in love with jj for 15 years).

they have no chemistry! and if you’re thinking “but margot you only see them talking on the phone” and to that i would say exactly! i have dms with mutuals with more chemistry than reid and maeve ever had. i’m observing their relationship with what i’m given as a viewer, and spencer had more chemistry with austin (52 pickup), dylan (hero worship), and dorian (rock creek park) than he did with any of his canon love interests (i’m adding max to the conversation)

i’m not convinced she was very good at her job 😭 b-12 and magnesium for chronic migraines is a fucking crazy recommendation from a geneticist because we see spencer going to all of these specialists and anyone who has ever had a chronic illness will tell you that a blood panel like that would’ve been the first thing they looked at!!! i know they weren’t technically doctor-patient, but there’s still some wonky power dynamic that i don’t like!

one of my biggest quarrels is that she had a stalker. she was dating an fbi agent who was part of this renowned unit. she never asked for help. in fact she refused to let him help even after he offered to bring the case to the team!!!! i had a stalker (years ago dw) and i absolutely would’ve accepted any help offered to me at the time!

maybe if they had given us more of them before the events of zugzwang she could have grown on me! if they had included their conversation about the blindfold so that we could see it again when diane brought it up we could’ve connected those dots and felt more involved in their relationship.

tl;dr, i don’t hate maeve as a person but i do hate her as a character, if that makes sense

#spencer reid #criminal minds #maeve donovan #maeve haters rise up #margot's asks #anon

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lucky-stick · 3 months ago

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domestic dog inspired jobs:

Domestic dogs are known for their loyalty and assistance to humans, getting these various careers that embody these traits. this is a list of dog-inspired jobs, categorized by activity level and social interaction.

its a long post and i don't want to clog up people feed but have fun and i hope i inspire some of you

Active, Extroverted, Team-Oriented Careers:

Police K9 Officer: 🚔

Role: Collaborate with trained police dogs to protect life and property, prevent and detect crime, provide court evidence, support victims and witnesses, investigate burglaries, and dismantle organized crime groups.

Requirements: Must be over 18, possess confidence, strong leadership and teamwork abilities, willingness to take risks, and keen observation skills.

(i know most of u are ACAB)

Armed Forces Officer: 🪖

Role: Serve in the army, air force, or navy to protect civilians, holding authority and responsibility over a team of soldiers, with various specialist roles available.

Requirements: Leadership skills, accountability, confidence, physical fitness, ability to work under pressure, and balance.

Search and Rescue (SAR) Professional: 🧭

Role: Undergo emergency professional training to respond to crises and assist in locating and aiding lost individuals.

Requirements: Basic education, physical fitness, emergency medical training, SAR training, technical skills and specialization, experience, certification and licensing, mental and emotional resilience, and commitment to ongoing training.

Lifeguard: 🌊

Role: Ensure the safety of swimmers at pools and beaches by monitoring conditions, enforcing safety rules, and performing rescues when necessary.

Requirements: Minimum age of 16 for pools and 18 for open water, strong swimming abilities, good physical condition, certification and training in CPR and first aid, and proficient rescue skills.

Farmer: 🥕🥔

Role: Engage in the demanding yet rewarding work of growing crops or raising livestock.

Requirements: Relevant education, physical and practical skills, access to land and equipment, financial and business acumen, and necessary licenses.

Security Guard: 🔐

Role: Protect property, people, and assets by monitoring and preventing theft and damage.

Requirements: Appropriate education and training, licensing, physical fitness, and strong observational skills.

Less Active, Introverted Careers:

Therapist: 📖

Role: Assist individuals in improving mental health and adopting healthy behaviors, with various types of therapy available.

Requirements: Bachelor’s, master’s, or doctorate degrees, clinical training, supervised experience, licenses, and essential skills and personal qualities.

Healthcare Caregiver: 🏥

Role: Support individuals with daily activities due to age, disability, injury, etc.

Requirements: Relevant education and training, essential skills and personal qualities, licenses, experience, and adaptability to various work environments and hours.

Careers that work with Dogs:

Dog Handler: 🐕

Role: Train, manage, and work with dogs in fields such as security, search and rescue, therapy, and personal training.

Requirements: Experience with dogs, specialized training programs, certifications, patience, physical stamina, good communication, keen observation, and problem-solving skills.

Dog Groomer: 🫧

Role: Clean, style, and maintain dog hygiene.

Requirements: No formal education required, but certification is beneficial; patience; gentle handling; ability to stand for extended periods; and basic animal knowledge.

Kennel Worker: 🧺

Role: Provide daily care for pets in kennels and shelters, including feeding, cleaning, bathing, and interacting with pet owners.

Requirements: On-the-job training, love for animals, physical stamina, and attention to detail.

Assistance Dog Trainer: 🐾

Role: Train dogs to assist individuals with disabilities, enhancing their independence and quality of life.

Requirements: Experience with dog training, understanding of various disabilities, patience, strong communication skills, and certification from recognized organizations.

i hope you like my new list, i like lists, anyways ill be comjng out with a wild canine, feline, bird and aquatic kin tell me if theres anymore you would like ^^

#domestic dog therian #domestic dogkin #dog theriotype #dog therian #dog kin #dogkin #canine theriotype #canine cladotherian #canine therian #caninekin #canine kin #alterhuman #alterhuman community #alterhumanity #therianthropy #therian community #lycanthrope #lycanthropy #clinical lycanthropy

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overelegantstranger · 5 months ago

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i sometimes see people saying that [essentially], size inclusivity has gone too far, people should let designers design for the body they Can design for rather than making poor attempt at fitting a larger body.

and if we were in a vacuum, and this was in complete good faith, I would kind of agree. there's nothing wrong with knowing what you don't know, and sticking to your own skills.

but it's not really in good faith (most of the time) and it's not in a vacuum. Many indie pattern designers didn't learn design formally; the body they've learned to fit is the one they've practiced fitting the most. Because of fatphobia, that's most likely a slimmer body, and because of a lack of formal training, there's no reason to believe that these example designers actually can fit a slim body better than a fat one, as opposed to knowing how to fit their body vs other bodies.

It's also I think about a certain level of industry standard, which, from a non-industry perspective, is much less codified in knitting than in sewing. In knitting, there is often pushback in some circles against a standard-ish size chart, against technical editing and test knitting, and against a reasonable price for labour*. It's as if, in some circles, an agreed approximate standard that you should aim at reaching over time is an imposition on these poor designers who shouldn't HAVE to design for "specialist sizes" or "nonstandard bodies" (even though a 60" bust isn't exactly "nonstandard"). Note: it's also important to be inclusive to smaller sizes, but i generally see this perspective aimed at larger sizes.

like, i do agree that a person needs to know the rough ways they deviate from the expected sizing (wider or narrower shoulders, a shorter or longer torso, etc), because size charts can only capture a small cross-section of people and knowing where your body is specific and individual helps you to get the fit you want, but that is NOT the same as expecting a certain standard of size inclusivity. And expecting a standard of inclusivity and asking a designer about that standard isn't bullying them necessarily? Harrassment can always happen for sure but expecting a standard and not supporting a designer for not reaching that standard is not bullying.

*I do think it's good to have financially accessible, well made patterns, but I also think that knitting pattern designers deserve to charge a reasonable rate. Not that every designer should charge the same, that's up to the individual, but that knitting patterns shouldn't necessarily be expected to be cheap.

#knitting #this is my personal vent. I am going to leave it rebloggable for my own reasons but this is off the cuff #not like a big planned manifesto

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astroismypassion · 9 months ago

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✨PART OF FORTUNE IN SIGNS AND HOUSES SERIES: 10TH HOUSE✨

Credit: Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

ARIES PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Aries and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via marketing or work in dynamic and fast-paced industries, via coaching, sports management, fitness entrepreneurship, coaching and mentoring services in connection with career development, leadership skills, personal empowerment, via work in innovation management, technology development, product development, especially emerging industries. You find abundance when you are bold, take risks, focus on ambitious goals, cultivate independence, build a strong public image and when you embrace leadership qualities.

TAURUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Taurus and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work in finance, banking, investment, wealth management. Or via working as a realtor, property manager, real estate developer, via curating, selling or managing art collections, working as a chef, restaurateur or food critic. You find abundance in work in hospitality (managing hotels, resorts, spas), via work in landscape architecture or gardening, interior design, or as a performer, producer or manager, through farming, agricultural management or sustainable food production or creating an eco-friendly business. You feel abundant when you are focused on stability, value quality, when you are patient and persistent.

GEMINI PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Gemini and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work as a journalist, writer, editor, public relations, marketing, working as PR specialist, brand manager, social media strategist, work as a teacher, lecturer, educational content creator, via writing content for blogs, websites or online platforms connected with technology, lifestyle, business. You find abundance when you write books (fiction or non-fiction), via work in technology sector, via technical writing, UX writing or product management, via event planning and work as a sales representative, account manager or business strategist. You feel abundant when you network actively, when you keep learning and embrace versatility.

CANCER PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Cancer and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work in healthcare as a nurse, doctor or therapist, work in interior design or home décor, helping others create comfortable and nurturing spaces, work as a chef, baker or food critic, via handmade furniture, textiles or pottery, engaging in childcare, daycare management or family support services, via work in real estate, helping families find their ideal home. You feel abundant when you use emotional intelligence, emphasize nurturing and care.

LEO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Leo and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via pursuing a career in acting on stage, in film or on television, working as a musician, singer or performer, via directing or producing theatrical productions, films or TV shows, work in television, radio or digital broadcasting, you could work as a host, anchor or presenter, designer, stylist, model, painter, sculptor or graphic designer.

VIRGO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Virgo and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via offering personalized health and wellness service. You can offer remote fitness coaching, such as offering personalized fitness plans and virtual training sessions. You could work in mental health professions, like counselling or psychology, work as a nutritionist, dietitian, work as a proofreader or editor, work with biology, chemistry, environmental science, mathematics or with language or having an IT role (system analysis, IT support or cybersecurity). You feel abundant when you develop organizational skills, use analytical skills and when you seek structured environments.

LIBRA PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Libra and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via offering dance classes, via work in art curation, gallery management or the fines arts, helping to showcase and promote artists and their work, via a career in human resources, focusing on employee relations, conflict resolution, via talent management, recruitment or career coaching. You feel abundant when you work in fashion design, graphic design, visual arts, brand management and marketing. You feel abundant when you aim for balance and harmony, emphasize fairness and justice.

SCORPIO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Scorpio and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via forensic accounting, crisis counselling or support services, via a career in scientific research, forensic science, medical research, psychology, surgery, oncology, energy healing, finance, technology or wellness, via art therapy and filmmaking. You feel abundant when you embrace transformation, healing, use psychological insight, when you pursue authority and expertise.

SAGITTARIUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Sagittarius and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via travel blogging, vlogging or becoming a travel consultant. You find abundance via academic research, publishing, by becoming a travel consultant, tour guide, work in the tourism industry, work connected with educational, human rights and cultural exchange, via career as a spiritual teacher, counsellor, life coach, via theological or philosophical work, writing or teaching. You feel abundant when you cultivate optimism or enthusiasm, seek global or cultural perspectives, pursue knowledge or education and embrace exploration and travel.

CAPRICORN PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Capricorn Sun people in your life. You find abundance via work as a financial advisor or analyst, accounting, as a property developer, manager or investor, via work in property management, overseeing rental properties, commercial spaces or large residential complexes, via civil engineering, work in educational administration (school or college management). You feel abundant when you focus on long-term goals and value pragmatism and responsibility.

AQUARIUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Aquarius and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via buying and selling collectibles (stamps, coins, vintage items), creating eco-friendly products or services (zero-waste goods, sustainable fashion). You may also find abundance in esports coaching by offering coaching services for aspiring professional gamers. You feel abundant via work in scientific research, in fields like physics, astronomy, biotechnology and environmental science, work in roles focused on research and development, via digital marketing. You feel abundant when you are pursuing unconventional paths, via networking with like-minded individuals and align with social causes.

PISCES PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Pisces and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work in music as a composer, musician or performer, via a career in painting, illustration, sculpture or other visual arts, via hospice work, via work in non-profit sector, focusing on causes related to humanitarian aid, environmental conservation or social justice, work in hospitality, such as hotel management or event planning, via cultural exchange, guided tours or spiritual retreats. You feel abundant when you embrace your creative talents, cultivate compassion and empathy, when you explore spiritual and esoteric interests and when you focus on meaningful impact.

Credit: Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

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urautismdiagnosis-wistie · 4 months ago

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Ships hehe

BOATS (ships)

OK SO I won't tolerate anyone trashing aro ace people or queer platonic relationships or invalidating them, THAT OUT OF THE WAY TIME FOR HEADCANONSSS

barnacles and kwazii 🐻‍❄️💛🐱: I originally shipped them when I was like 12 lol

To me they're going to become a QPR and they mean the world to me.

I need to start actually posting my stories to showcase what's gonna happen BUT CMON GUYS THEY HAD AN ENTIRE EPISODE ABOUT THEM BEING A SYMBIOTIC RELATIONSHIP?!

Like I'm gonna be so real they were octopod POD mates. (Their rooms in the same bubble lol)

Kwazii is his ✨first mate✨

They're a married couple that doesn't realize it yet!I'm going to trauma bond them and no one can stop me. Cuz I've already done it 😎👍✨

They deeply trust eachother! I'm going to make barnacles be horrified that he could've almost lost kwazii after kwazii nearly died! Barnacles loves this silly cat man! Kwazii loves to be appreciated and make barnacles proud! They emotionally support eachother! Kwazii is going to have nightmares about the captain dying in a horrific way that totally doesn't relate to the intens psychological trauma I've given him! Barnacles wants to be useful and have someone to love but also someone to tell him its ok and that he doesn't have to be perfect or brave all the time! Kwazii wants to not be alone and prove himself to someone who truly sees the worth in him while being able to trust that they'd always stay loyal together! They have so many inside jokes and shared moments of near death experiences! Accordian music and shanties!

anyways onto SHELLINGTON AND DASHI AY AY AY AYYYY

Uhhh so I haven't posted their designs and my headcanons but yes Shellington is autistic to me (totally not me projecting but yall see the username. Ill get into why I think he's autistic on my character design post for him) and yes I think yk what? Maybe he was a little lonely and weird as a kid and yk what also? Maybe he does have some chronic pain too I dont make the rules (yes I do)

Anyways like shellington, I'm giving my baby issues and fears relating to not being like part of the group lol. Subconsciously anyways. And yk he found his people, the octonauts who value him and his interests and dont blame him for messing up lol and he likes himself as a person

(BTW he wouls totally try to adopt a cryptid like creature (new species!) abomination and name it Steve I already have an entire plot)

Do yall remember when they were sent to spend several weeks alone together in the midnight zone cuz I do

Regardless i think dashi just casually asked him ayyo wanna date and then he bluescreened LOL

As for dashi well, I'll get into her headcanons when I post her character design as well, but regardless she needs someone who understands and supports her passions without judgement yk?

She is so incredible,like photography, computer specialist, apparently technically a scientist, a surfer, able to pilot deep marine vehicles, got swallowed by a whale, did a flip from the manta ray while diving FRKM SEVERAL METWRS IN THE AIR INTO WAYER THAT WAS ABOUT TO HAVE LAVA POUR INTO IT???, and is a whole pilot now apaprently???

Like holy-

Anyways yeah dashi thinks shellington is an amazing single father with so much kindness and emotional intelligence and many many charming qualities 🥰

Shellington thinks dashi is Like actually a really really awesome person??? Like they both like organizing things!! Shes funny and smart!! They can both talk about eachothers interests and he likes to make her happy!! She's really cool and kind and helps him with stuff and she's super intelligent and charming! He just thinks she's oh so very cool. She's so confident and has kind eyes 🥰

Anyways yes

Btw just wanna say that tweak is like if u were aro ace to the max lolll shes just content with her life and friends lol

now for the penguin(s) in the room

ok so shes gonna be a plot relevant character in a story I've got in the works (The Oil RIg) it'll be a fun ride dw, but we love medic x depressed woman its great and yes I do think peso could pull any gal just by existing like straight up fight me on this fight me fIGHT ME-

ok not fight I'm not like that but I will stand on this hill till I die

but fr tho it was a whole telenovellahow they met omg- I'm talking the drama- thelore- thesoftmoments and the heartbreaking goodbyes- not to worry tho they do meet again and are like long distance(with tons of visiting) lol they have a very healthy relationship tho considering that shes like idk, ig fresh out of a like, very unhealthy environment

i ain't gonna spoil anything rn tho lol but she Gon save his life and he gon save hers and its gonna be beautiful<3 <3 <#

#octonauts #octonauts barnacles #octonauts kwazii #my art #octonauts peso #octonauts captain barnacles #octonauts art #octonauts shellington

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ryuzakemo128 · 6 months ago

Text

Goodnight

Chapter One: Family Ties

Pairing: Poly 141 x female reader (Boomer)

Words: 1733

Masterlist - Prequel

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Content Warnings: Boomer is both a callsign and nickname for the female reader, Violence and Aggression, Mature Themes, Family Dysfunction, Mental Health, plus many others I might not have covered here.

Summary:

What could he even give her in return?

What would he be able to give her?

What can he offer her that she doesn’t already possess?

Does he bring joy? Does he offer security?

What does he have to offer her?

John had to look up at her, stretching his neck to get a clear view of her face. Towering over him, much like her father would tower over many others around him.

Her mother, Meredith, warned him about her daughter’s height and intimidating presence beforehand. He assumed it was some kind of joke. An oddly specific joke.

Seeing her in person now? He started to swallow down the words of doubt piling up. Eat each word, each one as they clawed, crawled from the depths of his throat.

She had given him her file, and it made his skin crawl once I started looking through it. Her genetics written in the many medical forms. In greater detail than he bargained for.

Boomer hasn’t spoken to her mother since her parents divorced. She was nine years old at the time. Her opinion of her mother changed when the affair came to light. She couldn’t even look at her.

Adamant in her refusal to be around her. She wanted to stay with her father. She didn’t want to live with her mother and the affair partner.

Not only that, but she wanted nothing to do with her or her ‘uncle’.

Boomer never changed her mind on her choice. Not even once.

What took precedence over the other mission?

What did her mother hope to achieve by doing this?

Boomer, a daughter, descendant of a lineage of soldiers, political figures, legislators, and engineers. A young woman taught to be self-sufficient, independent, self-reliant, and autonomous.

What could he even give her in return?

What would he be able to give her?

What can he offer her that she doesn’t already possess?

Does he bring joy? Does he offer security?

What does he have to offer her?

Boomer, the operative with 'quirks' inside of her genetic DNA. According to the information, her mother had provided him. Heavily documented, recorded, detailed enough to make any scientist and genetics researcher wet their slacks.

The files listed them in great detail to make sure nothing was or ever will be left up in the air for assumption, postulation, conjecture or theorised.

Mental, physical, and technical prowess, all rolled into one intimidating package — that's how John Price saw the Australian operative.

All written down by numerous doctors, specialists, consultants, physicians, and practitioners.

Mental traits passed down to her from her father's side of the family genetics were:

Eidetic Memory: Also known as photographic memory and total recall. Essentially, it’s the ability to recall an image from memory with high precision for at least a brief period of time.

Hyperthymesia: This condition is known as Hyperthymestic syndrome or high superior autobiographical memory (HSAM). Leadings to people to be able to remember an abnormally large number of life experiences in vivid detail.

Indefatigability: This is a trait that allows Boomer to never get tired, even when everyone around her is begging for a break.

Physical traits passed down to her from her father's side of the family genetics were:

Hypermobility Syndrome: Also known as double-jointness. Which means the joints can move beyond the normal range of motion. Often stretching farther than the norm. Some hypermobile people can bend their thumbs backwards to their wrists and bend their knee joints backwards.

High Pain Tolerance: The ability to endure pain without succumbing to it. A trait that would come in handy in the line of work she's chosen.

Efficient Metabolism: A high metabolic rate that supports her indefatigability, keeping her energised and allowing for rapid recovery after physical exertion.

He had to take a short break to process through this new information. Boomer would be inducted into the task force sometime before the month was over.

In need to make sure this was the right choice for his squad, as well as Boomer, the woman in question. Her mother certainly didn’t.

John Price picked up the phone and dialled a familiar number, one that had been etched in his mind for years.

“Meredith,” he began, his voice ringing the bulk of his considerations, “I need to know more about your daughter's condition. What aren't you telling me?”

The silence between them stretched on painfully as a result. John had an on again, off again relationship with her for the past three years.

What would this mean for Boomer?

He imagined Boomer saying, 'Cheaters like her cheat serially without compassion' with the same conviction that she'd say, 'A bullet doesn’t care how much you believe it won't hit you'. He recognised she wasn’t one to forgive easily or ever.

Most likely, she had gridlocked her mother out of her thoughts entirely, and that was something he had to be ready for once she allied with the team.

“Look, Meredith, I need both sides, not just the father’s. Don’t put your own bias by removing your flaws from the equation. It won’t be fair for my team and ultimately you are withholding information from your own child.” John sighed disappointed Meredith didn’t put the entire genetic history forward into her medical file.

John looked up from the medical file in his hand, “It reeks of personal bias. I don’t understand why you would prevent her from learning these things.”

Meredith’s voice quivered over the line, ��I wanted to protect her, John. You know what they’ll do if they find out she’s got my genes. They’ll turn her into a lab rat, not a soldier. You have to promise me, you’ll keep this between us.”

“You can’t protect her if you can’t be bothered to tell her the truth.”

Traits from her mother’s side of the family still remains a large unknown. Even to Boomer herself. She still doesn’t know what they entail for her and her health.

And considering she hadn’t spoken to her mother since her parent’s divorce at the age of ten. Even then, school took precedence, and her father fought for full custody.

Her father didn’t care what she wore growing up, as long as she wore clothes. He received backlash from it after the mothers at the school noticed how he parented Boomer.

As well-behaved as Boomer was. Her father wasn't above the ire of the housewives, the stay-at-home mothers, the ones who saw her father's nonchalance as a form of neglect. Boomer knew better, her father didn't talk much, but he fixed more teddy bears than anyone she knew.

His tools were his words, his workshop his sanctuary, and his love, unspoken but as sturdy as the furniture he crafted. She often found refuge in his workshop, the smell of sawdust and the hum of his machines, comforting. It was here she discovered her love for tinkering, for creating, and for fixing things.

“D'ya think ebony varnish would look good for the bee's aviary?” Boomer asked one afternoon.

Her father, a six-foot ten giant of a man, broad shoulders, grey streaked beard, he didn't have the typical military buzzcut like most men inside the military.

Any blueprints he looked over for Boomer were meticulously studied, each piece of wood measured, sanded, and crafted with precision. Her curiosity grew with every project they completed together.

Sometimes, she frequently found herself lost in thought about the mysterious talents she might have inherited from her mother's lineage.

The odd questions, which slowly became rather uncomfortable, too personal and delving far too deep into personal information. If either one of them answered them, told them.

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about this with you. Can you please stop asking about it?”

They hated that answer.

Loathed it even.

Assumed they were anti-social losers of some kind.

They remarked that Boomer wasn’t ‘female’ enough because she wore overalls after school, got her hands dirty, played violent video games and loved horror movies.

Comments of:

‘If she was my daughter, I would have taken those violent video games from her and sent her to ballet classes’

‘If she were my wife she would not be allowed to leave the house dressed like that, she needs to learn to be a real woman’

‘Why is she so tall, she’s going to scare the men away’

‘What happened to her, is she a tomboy, why can’t she be more like a lady’

They echoed in the room like a symphony of ignorance.

Small comments to her father's disdain grew into a crescendo of whispers that followed her everywhere.

Meaning to those mothers. Boomer is the definition of the word ugly.

He didn't know mothers could get this vile or even be able to sleep at night being this level of horrid.

Part of him wanted to walk up to each one of those mothers and shake them until they saw some kind of sense between their ears. Telling them to leave his daughter alone.

He also knew he couldn’t do it and get away with it on legal terms.

What he could do? Send a passive-aggressive letter to each one of the mothers to get them to leave Boomer alone, or he would dig up so much dirt on them, they’ll regret ever speaking about his daughter in the first place.

The same moms who were poking, prodding and invading his privacy.

“You sure you want to give them those letters? They won’t or might not react all too nicely to them, dad.”

“It’s also for your safety, Boomer.”

“I know. I know. It just feels….nasty. Petty. Going down to their level.”

“Bullies often pick on those they deem to be weak or too shy to stand up for themselves. Often assuming just because the person they target is too weak to do anything about it.”

“I thought you said they also have a rough home life, too.”

“Children are bullies. Often because they have a rough home life because they have awful parents who shouldn’t have been parents.”

“And?”

“It means they never saw what they did was the wrong thing. They didn’t see it as a problem. Now, they’re still making everyone else’s life miserable.”

“These women could just double down on their stance.”

“And they could also take the hint. We won’t know until we find out.”

“Ten bucks to say they will.”

“Ten bucks and an extra week of laundry, they will take the hint.”

“Fingers crossed they don't get physical.”

“Fingers crossed they leave you alone.”

“Only one way, someone is gonna win this bet.”

“It's to let it play out.”

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