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llort · 1 year ago

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2023/09/17 Update - MM is now a complete constructed language

I have put it off for a while but I broke my MM^3 hymen. I didn't intend to agency wise but it is just another predicted PQ/CB milestone that would have happened soon or later. There is six main branches and thirty six sub branches which means that there are probably 216 arbitrary branches if I got my math right. So in total there are 258 non combinatorial end points. I have noticed just by the internal logic of how the MM was designed that combinatorial endpoints just make intuitive sense somehow. I also have diffraction branch loci that are either one M in length or they have some non integer length of one relative M which is essentially a fractal structure. Both approaches to mentally reconstructing the MM have their own benefits. The clearest distinction that fractal branching is clearly non combinatorial as the end points are unique in space and integer M lengths are clearly can be taken as combinatorial or non combinatorial. I don't really need to encode all of the 258+ branches, I am not even considering the fact that I expanded the MM base system to at least a decimal base ten system and it doesn't cover non modal encoding and cryptography. It is clear that the MM is now a fully actualized constructed language given the fact that I have encoded qualia and concepts into M-theory shapes. The amusing thing is that I am intentionally misinterpreting string theory and how to actually how to model higher spatial dimensions than five as it just makes codification so much easier and now it is next to impossible for EVs to get a handle on IO's and SM's machinations now from what I gather of their capabilities.

MM has generative grammar, displacement, an established vocabulary, semantics, and clear ontology for standard communication across many non modal domains. It is a language now officially and I am pretty sure I am the only one who knows it. Even if it has been replicated and I have encoded the schema for that in exocognition, no one is likely to have the exact same ME00xx as me or qualia/intertextuality so effectively MM is both a interpersonal and intrapersonal language which I think has never been done before. It also seems to utilize different areas of cognition and neuro anatomy than typical languages and seems to "run on different pathways".

``I was thinking about what my interpretation of quantum theory would be based upon my current understanding and it would be both accepting and rejecting Copenhagen (CH) and Many Worlds (MW).

CH may initially be the only one may matter on first thought as our middle earth collapsed "global wavefunction" is the only one we will ever exist in. MW has been degraded often because it is messy and wasteful however as an axiom you can rule out considering all branches that don't follow the causality in our observable universe (the boundary between offshoots is unknown) just setting a multiverse axis of directional arrow of time and ignoring all other possibilities. Each plank second every quantized chromodynamic state change or particle interactions described by a generic Feynman diagram can be a branching point in which a new dimension gets created.

Dimension in this state is literally just a new axis of values of which the state change branch is described.

Cranking out models for this may lead to the conclusion that this many worlds dimensional projection of state variation will lead to a meta model where parallel universes, limited by expanded causality can be reverse models by just stepping down quantised steps until (a lot of steps in funky geometries) to the point were it it may be feasible to choose a meta clusters of branch points to a model a universe where literally a solid gestalt choice for you to keep thinking about this entry was enacted or not.

Selecting parameters could be done with funky neural net stuff like this

youtube

An important AOI between CH and MW is the weighting on self actualization pressure and memetic dominance. If MW is accurate all I need to is to maximize my future potential for actualization in the current moment or near future. If CH is accurate then I have to actually constantly for fill my potential which means sacrificing focusing on transitional skills and cognitive servomechanisms and specializing far more

It is pretty easy to construct the M-brane representations of qualia using this method. All you have to do is just define an arbitrary set of shapes and train an generative AI to associate them with qualia. The AI doesn't even need to experience or perceive the qualia, it is purely an associative enterprise. Varying one parameter of each of the arbitrary cardinal M-branes will leaded to a sort of library of babble esq data base of most possible qualia experienced by humans, potential qualia that might be experienced in the future, as well as derive arbitrary qualia in the case where https://www.businessinsider.com/what-is-blue-and-how-do-we-see-color-2015-2 is evident. This will also define "impossible qualia" that we can't perceive directly like https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Impossible_color

#unsignificant sentience #cybernetics #science #psychology #mind palace #mind map #neuroscience #philiosophy #writing #sci fi #Youtube

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ltwilliammowett · 3 years ago

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The Hjortspringboat

In the 1880s, the first wooden parts of an unknown object were found during peat cutting near the Hjortspring farm in Denmark, including an 8-metre-long plank that was burnt by the peat cutters as firewood. After the First World War, the Danish National Museum in Copenhagen was notified, which organised a systematic search in 1921 and 1922 and was able to find further fragments of a boat as well as other objects. When excavations began a short time later under Gustav Adolf Rosenberg (1872-1940), only about 40 % of the original find was left. What came to light was a kind of canoe, which was documented in an exemplary manner despite the adverse conditions.

The boat in the exhibition (x)

Numerous weapons, which had been on the boat when it sank and can therefore be dated at the same time, also came to light as by finds. Among them were 169 spear and lance points (138 made of iron, 31 of bone), 50 wooden hunchback shields of Celtic type, 10 fragments of chain mail and about half a dozen swords.

(x)

Some of the weapons had been rendered useless by bending before they were deposited; they are the oldest surviving examples made of steel and the find is the oldest depot of weapons in the north. In terms of profane finds, there were several wooden plates and vessels as well as bronze fittings and a bronze needle and the mouthpiece of a bellows. A good dozen paddle fragments can also be assigned to the boat, as well as two rudder fragments, which have different dimensions and shapes. These were presumably individually adapted depending on the person and position on the boat.

The excavation 1921-22 (x)

The boat itself as already mentioned a kind of canoe and could be identified clinkered plank boat. It was built in shell construction. It was built almost entirely from the wood of the littleleaf linden tree, which was less resistant than the oak wood that was mainly used, but much lighter, which benefited the flexibility of the boat. All components are sewn together with bast ropes, the joints and seams are sealed with a tree resin compound. For reinforcement, the boat was stiffened on the inside with ten frames made of hazel branches. As there are neither rudder holes nor oarlocks nor any device to hold a ship's mast, it is an open canoe that was propelled with a total of 20 stab paddles, which could be confirmed by the reconstruction. Since two rudders were found, it can be assumed that one was attached to the bow and one to the stern. It is 19 m long, 2.07 m wide and 0.7 m high. The length of the boat's hold is 13.6 m and 15.3 m respectively. At the bow and stern, the boat has two overlapping and widely projecting sterns. The beak-like stems give the Hjortspring boat its profile known from Bronze Age rock carvings from Scandinavia.

Bronze age engravings of Tanum, Sweden (x)

This type of boat itself dates from the late Bronze Age, although the boat was also built in the early Iron Age (4th-3rd century BC). It is thought to be a war boat for quickly ferrying a war party across a larger body of water.

A reconstruction (x)

Together with the numerous finds, it can be assumed that it was a sacrifice to the gods, probably offered by the inhabitants of the island as thanks for a victory over invaders, possibly from the mainland (to be determined by the Celtic weapon types). In total, based on the large number of weapons, a group of 100 men is assumed to have crossed with probably four boats.

In the years 1991 to 1999 a reconstruction was made by the specially founded association Hjortspringbådes Laug and the name is "Tilia Alsie".(x)

The boat itself was largely destroyed during the excavation work, and the remaining parts, together with some of the weapons and equipment found, are now in the permanent exhibition Danmarks Oldtid in the Danish National Museum in Copenhagen. The preserved parts of the boat are displayed in the presumed original position of the boat with the help of a stainless steel scaffolding construction.

#naval history #archeology #Hjortspringboat #4th-3rd century BC #ancient seafaring

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ill-skillsgard · 5 years ago

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The Gloaming Hour - Alex Hogh Andersen

Title: The Gloaming Hour

Characters: Alex Hogh Andersen x ambiguous fem

Warning: No real warnings. Just angst and feelings!

Note: In honour of @flowers-in-your-hayr birthday, I wrote a little imagine inspired by one of her wonderful moodboards! Thank you @maggiescarborough for organizing this fun event and asking me to take part <3

The concept of this piece isn’t based on the moodboard directly, rather an idea that popped into my head from the collection of images. Hope you like it! Kisses!

Excitement drained from Alex's face ounce by ounce, leaving his jovial smile deflated, his bright eyes a lifeless blue. As the curator flipped through his collection of portraits, scrutiny notched a wrinkle between his eyebrows that deepened with each turn of the page. Though a facetious mustache hid the curator's top lip, Alex recognized a grimace and the discontent infiltrating the air between them.

The older man closed the portfolio and sighed. He took off his glasses, polished the lenses on the lapel of his jacket and replaced them on his nose to better assess Alex's mood.

"Alexander..."

"Please, just Alex," the photographer insisted.

"Alex. It... It just—it breaks my heart to see your passion shrivelling."

Struck as though the curator had set his work on fire before him on the desk, Alex took a half-step back to prepare for harsher evaluations. "Shrivelling? I'd have to disagree."

"This isn't up to par with what you've brought to me in recent times. There's no trace of emotion. At least, nothing genuine. They're good photos, Alex, but they're stock photos at best. Destined for a watermark."

Alex gestured at the portfolio. "They're not the worst. I made do with what I had. There's only so many angles of Copenhagen I can give you before it looks postcard-ish. I took these at the height of the panic, while the entire world held its breath waiting for answers. I feel I reflect this in my work. Did you see the one of the little girl on the swing?"

The curator pushed the folder across the desk, a final swing of the axe. "I can't put these in the show, Alex. It's not my reputation I'm worried about, it's yours. I don't want to be the rope that ties your young career to the stake. My patrons wouldn't piss on these if they were on fire. Now, your winter series... If you brought me something like that, then I'd sing a different tune. Those were raw. Unfettered by trivial surface emotions. These are rather college-level, just-got-my-hands-on-my-first-DSLR quality. We've seen much better from you."

"What about the photo of the old woman?" Alex gave one last push.

"I'm looking for a coherent series. Something that tells an ongoing story. One diamond in a bed of zirconias just won't cut it, Alex," said the curator. "But we like you here. I want you to be part of the show."

Alex nodded in agreement. "So do I."

"You have five days to put together something that will wow me. I need to be awe-struck. Do you think inspiration will strike in that amount of time?"

"If I knew when inspiration planned a visit, I'd do nothing but schedule my time around it, trust me," Alex said.

"Five days, Alex, you have less than a week to put something stirring on my desk. I believe in you. Now, I must ask that we get a move on. I have another appointment."

Alex took his portfolio, tucked it under his arm, nodded at the curator and left the gallery. It wasn't until he stepped onto the street the numbness in his face gave way to the severe weight of rejection. He remembered walking into the studio but fifteen minutes prior, brimming with confidence, but that zeal had melted, leaving Alex dispirited and ready to give up his dreams. How could he capture a full series in a few short days? No great work of art had ever been executed in such a minimal amount of time. Alex sighed, lit a cigarette, and walked in no particular direction.

His camera hung around his neck as it nearly always did, but it only served to remind him of his shortcomings. When he passed over a canal of rushing water, Alex thought of ridding himself of the padded noose and chucking the device into the river below. Yet he clutched the camera's zoom lens, running his fingertips over the rubber grip for comfort.

Sequestered in grey daydreams, Alex's feet took him to the walking trails before his head caught up. He left the din of the city behind, and when he snapped from his ruminations, budding birch trees and new foliage surrounded him. Alex had walked the trails many times before, but that day a golden hue drenched the atmosphere and had him appreciating the landscape with eyes afresh. He wandered this way and that, losing himself in the thicket on purpose as he watched for rare birds above.

He came to the river's bend where an arcing walking bridge connected one side to the other. A woman was standing on the apex, looking out over the water with her back turned to Alex. She paid no attention to anything but the rapids below as the gentle wind carried pieces of her hair, abandoning the strands to float about her pate like a strange halo. From afar, Alex studied the slopes of her profile, but without his glasses, he couldn't make out the subtleties that made her eye-catching. The woman didn't notice him step onto the walking bridge.

The closer Alex came to the woman, the stronger his urge to photograph her became. He uncapped the camera lens, turned on the device and adjusted the settings to compliment the evening glow. From a distance, Alex relied on the power of the lens to bring her closer. He snapped some photos, then approached another four steps, fixed his frame, and captured a few more.

Alex cycled through the newest photos and noticed something about the woman's face he hadn't before: she was crying. Below her left cheek, a small stream glimmered, the setting sun illuminating a teardrop hanging off her jaw. This discovery made Alex's heart sink. He went a little closer, snapped another picture with his proximity taken into consideration, then studied the image. Her sadness tainted the entire frame, a beacon of black and grey on a gilded backdrop.

The woman turned just as Alex clicked the shutter again, and her melancholy transformed into indignation. She swiped at her incriminating tears in hopes the stranger wouldn't see them, but it was far too late. Alex already had evidence of her mournful spell.

"Excuse me! Just what do you think you're doing taking photos of me?" The woman yelled, approaching swiftly. "Did I give you permission to take my picture?"

The photographer took a step back, abandoning his camera near his chest to display open palms. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to bother. You just looked so... I'm sorry. I'll delete them, I promise."

Redness swallowed the whites of her eyes. Now that she was within slapping distance of Alex's face, it was clear the woman had been suffering there on the bridge for a long while. Though all traces of her dreary expression fled, he got the sense something terrible had happened to her, and he had taken advantage of her private moment for his benefit.

"Why would you do that? Take pictures of people without them knowing?" She demanded to know.

"I'm a photographer. I swear, I'm not some creepy guy that goes around taking photos of women."

"Pfft," she hissed. "I bet you have loads of disgusting pictures on that thing because you're a man, and all men are absolutely disgusting!"

Taken aback by her accosting, Alex realized her hurt ran deep and fresh. Her tears dried up, leaving behind nothing but scorn and red, puffy cheeks. Whatever internal wound she bore still bled, and he apologized again in hopes the woman might forgive him.

"Honestly, I'm just a photographer. Not a weirdo. Here, I'll even show you what I have on my camera roll. It's nothing but portraits and pictures of trees, I swear on my life. I was just walking and saw you on the bridge, and you looked... Um."

Her anger lessened, curiosity taking its place at least in her eyes. "I looked what? What did I look like?"

Alex chewed his bottom lip and toed a plank of the walking bridge. She met his silence with another step forward.

"You looked so sad... And beautiful," whispered Alex.

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head as a sarcastic laugh punched the air. "You're so full of shit."

"I'm not lying!" Alex defended himself. "Look for yourself."

The photographer turned his camera around, but the woman stepped back. Alex sighed, waited for her to build up enough trust to approach him, and let her come to his side when she was sure he wouldn't lunge. She looked at the display and the photo he'd captured of her hanging her head, one lone teardrop on her face alight with the diminishing aura of day.

"Well... It's not terrible, I guess," she said.

"I'll still delete them," assured Alex

The woman shook her head. "You're a real photographer? Like a real, professional one?"

Alex fetched a business card from his pocket and passed it to her. She scanned the piece of cardstock and then his face.

"I've had my work displayed in art galleries if that helps."

"I guess it does."

A silence leavened the tension between them. The warbling water below clashed with bird calls above, and the sun slipped away, leaving them in deepening twilight. After five long minutes of quietude, the woman finally sighed.

"You don't have to delete them. They're good. You're obviously talented, and who am I to stifle your art?"

Surprised by her revelation, Alex chuckled nervously. "You sure? I don't have a problem getting rid of them."

"No," she shook her head. "You somehow made the shittiest day of my life look... Beautiful."

There was something about the woman's change of mind that told of understanding and kindness. Alex suddenly wanted to comfort her further. He slipped his camera behind him and spread his arms open. She flinched at this but realized what he meant to do.

"Would you like a hug? You look like you could use a good hug," offered Alex.

She bit the inside of her cheek as a bubble of a sob fought to escape her throat. Nodding while her eyes brimmed with another crop of tears, she stepped into his embrace and crushed her face into the collar of his denim coat. Surprised by the strength in which she clung to his torso, Alex matched it and held the girl tight until her tears dried up once more.

#alex hogh andersen imagine #alex hogh andersen fanfiction

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lisinfleur · 5 years ago

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EBMK - Chapter 06: Ties

Author’s Notes | It doesn't really matter how hard we try or how strong are the obstacles in our way. When something has to happen, it happens. Life is like a river: it flows. And it doesn't matter how many stones you put into a river's bed. It doesn't matter if it finds a mountain in its way. It will always find a way... Words | 3067 ⁑ Warnings: Mention to drugs, drug addiction, abuse of illegal substances, violence.

Somehow, it moved on.

Life changed, but Adrian couldn't really complain of how the weeks were going in that new way to live. He was still sleeping on her couch, but just because he told Y/N it was bullshit to build a new room in the house only for him: they should think on Patrick first and now, he and Mads were finishing the foundation for the new room, closer to hers, so the child could have its own space after it was a little bigger. Only then, they would start thinking if it was really worthy to make a room for him only.

Even because Y/N's smiles for him were telling Adrian that maybe a new room wouldn't be necessary after all.

She was a beautiful woman. And after they came into her life, she even gained some weight and was looking more healthy - since Adrian started to teach her what he had learned in those books he read because of Victoria, Y/N had learned a lot about her own body and pregnancy and now, she wasn't skipping meals anymore. They were all the time speaking to each other and Mads even took Joy and Kyle to rides through the town sometimes just to see if, being alone, something would sparkle between the two of them.

Mads was happy to see his friend smiling again. Adrian was a dedicated man and a natural father and Mads could not avoid thinking how much Victoria had explored those instincts and kindness in his friend for her own benefit. He had heard about her from some old friends' calls - people that were keeping him informed about the situation in Copenhagen to ensure they would be safe where they were. He heard about Chad's arresting: somehow the guy was being searched for tax evasion and Victoria's attempts to have Adrian arrested ended up showing the police where the guy was hidden. As long as he knew, Shon - her child Adrian used to call Patrick - was born and she was now selling the house to go back to her parents' house with the baby.

Mads never told Adrian a single word... He knew how much Adrian loved that boy and he also knew he wouldn't rest his head thinking about how the child's situation would be... So, he just kept his mouth shut...

Adrian was happy. And he wanted it to keep going this way.

Y/N was now entering the last month of her pregnancy and it made them slow down the things because Adrian was fully entertained in helping her to be more comfortable. He built by himself a wooden support that allowed her to sleep with her back more elevated; he bought her some more pillows; damn, he even went out at 3 in the morning to find a convenience that could sell him the peach pie she woke up crazy about! Mads could bet things would get settled down among him and Y/N pretty soon and he knew Joy had heard Y/N speaking about how sweet and cute his friend was.

Cute...

If she just knew what the "cute" butcher in her couch had done already... Mads giggled with the idea and his giggle called Adrian's attention. The two of them were sitting at the balcony recently finished, sharing some bottles of beer since the two of them were trying to stop smoking - it wasn't good for the kids around and Adrian had quit it for a week already so, Mads followed the same way.

"What?" Adrian asked, looking as Joy and Y/N were at the grass, playing with Kyle and trying to teach the little one how to sit by himself.

"Nothing, buddy, just thinking about how things changed for us," Mads answered, smiling.

"They did..." Adrian agreed, looking at Y/N. "And I think they'll change a little more," he completed, smiling back.

"What? Will you finally stop looking at her like a dog in front of the chicken roaster, man?" Mads' joked, receiving a friendly punch in his shoulder from Adrian as he laughed.

"Whaaat?! It's true! You're drooling since we arrived, man... You should treat this kink of yours."

"It's not a kink, come on! She's gorgeous," Adrian said, smiling. "I just didn't want to move forward before the baby was born, ya know? I mean... She's facing so many troubles, the back pain, and weight and stuff... I'm thinking about giving some more time for her to feel better instead of just throwing things like this, ya know?"

"I read on one of those books of yours that sex helps with the childbirth preparation," Mads joked again, receiving a new punch and laughing one more time before patting his friend's back. "Fine, fine... You're right. This part of their lives is very intense indeed. But I'm sure you're not the only one thinking about moving forward here, brother," Mads lifted his bottle a little, pointing Y/N who was fully distracted with Kyle's cooing. "She likes you. Joy told me she speaks about you and how... Cute... You are," he threw the word just to see Adrian blushing and giggling, clumsy.

"I'll talk to her when everything is settled down," he said, smiling.

"Go ahead, brother. You deserve something good in your life and Y/N deserves a better man for her. Full support here, bro," Mads answered, smiling at him and raising the bottle for them to toast.

"I know I can always count on you, brother," Adrian answered, touching Mads' bottle with his own before they took a sip from their beers.

The rest of the day was calm. They had taken a day to chill with the girls and Kyle so, at the end of the night, they weren't as tired as usual.

Y/N, on the other hand, was exhausted. Adrian helped her to fix the height of her bed so she could lay down comfortably, but the weight of the belly was really bothering her now.

"I can't wait for Patrick to be born," she mumbled.

And Adrian smiled at her, gently putting a strand of her hair beside her ear.

"To be honest, neither can I," he answered, smiling bigger.

Feeling when she softly caressed his hand on her face. Their eyes meeting each other with so much tenderness between them.

"You're a good man, Adrian," she started, smiling gently. "I'm glad you came with Mads. In the beginning, I thought I wouldn't be able to hold the whole situation but now... Now I'm glad you came with them that day."

His fingers slowly slid to her cheek and she held his hand, leaning her face into his palm, allowing him to move forward and keep caressing her.

Adrian smiled.

"I would wait until Patrick was here to tell you this but... Y/N, I think we..." he started.

But a noise in the living room called their attention, cutting his words and the moment when Y/N sighed scared by the sound.

"Sh... sh sh, calm down, love, I'll take a look. Must have been a loosen plank from the roof. I'll put it back, don't worry," Adrian tried to calm her down, not noticing how he called her, getting up to fix what he was sure to be a plank that fell from the roof - Mads and him were still to fix that part of the house, but with this, he would hurry Mads about the need for a new roof and repairs.

A loosen plank could fall on Kyle or hurt Joy or even Y/N and he couldn't let any of these things happen.

However, when he came out, to the living room, Adrian's eyes were surprised by a man standing near the center table, messing with a box where Adrian knew Y/N was used to put her unused money. He was strange, dirty and shaking. And he didn't even notice Adrian's presence at the door or seemed to mind the fact that his entrance through the living room window Adrian now noticed open caused a loud noise that would be heard from the other rooms.

"Fuck, Ethan, what the fuck are you god's damn doing here?" Mads came from his room, closing the door probably to protect Joy inside.

An action that triggered Adrian's sense of alarm, causing him to pull the door of Y/N's room as well.

Nevertheless, she had already heard Ethan's name and held the door before Adrian could close it, coming out to see the man who was smiling at Mads, clumsy and strange.

"Mads! Brother! Long-time no see, dude. Mind me not, I just came to pick up some money I forgot home for... for..." Ethan started, scratching his nose clearly wounded by what Adrian could see was the constant use of cocaine.

"Oh my god..." Y/N mumbled. "What are you doing here, Ethan? I told you to leave!" she spoke, nervous.

And Adrian tried to hold her back.

"Love, let us take care of this, go back into the room, please..."

"Love?" Ethan laughed, finally noticing Adrian there. "So, you already found another to fuck your pussy, bitch?"

"Ethan, stop," Mads said, trying to pick the man, conduct him outside.

But Ethan pushed him away and his whole body language changed from the friendly to an aggressive mode, pointing Y/N with his eyes glowing in anger.

"My ass! This bitch is mine, asshole! This is my fucking house! MINE!!" he yelled, scaring Y/N and triggering Adrian even more. "You won't put an asshole in my fucking bed and give your damn holes to him with my fucking child in your belly, you slut!"

"Stop!" she yelled, covering her ears, shaking. "I told you to go away! You're high again! I don't want you beside my son!"

"MY SON!" Ethan yelled and Mads held him before he could go towards Y/N, "THIS FUCKING PIECE OF NOTHING INSIDE OF YOU IS MINE, YOU ARE MINE, YOU BITCH! MY SON! MY HOUSE! MY BITCH! LET ME FUCKING GO!" he continued yelling as Mads was trying to drag him away from the house.

Adrian moved forward to help but the man kicked Mads' balls and got free, advancing towards Y/N with all his strength like a truck ready to run over her. She cringed and Adrian could, in a second, figure out why she had expelled that man from her house: the way she shrunk around herself, protecting the belly... That bastard was hitting her...

That wasn't the first time he was advancing against her like that. He already did it before. To a pregnant woman...

Adrian stood in front of him like a wall preventing him to even get close to her. Even Mads couldn't recognize his friend for a moment: Adrian doubled his size, pushing Ethan back with all the strength of his arms, causing him to stumble on Mads' legs and fall to the ground, dragging himself towards the door Adrian didn't let him reach by himself, grabbing the man by his collar, raising Ethan to his height to look into his eyes. Adrian's blues strangely fierce, almost... Murderous...

"You listen to me, and you listen closely you asshole: The next time I see your drugged face near Y/N, near this house, even near this town, I'll fucking hit your face so bad that not even your mom will be able to recognize the pieces of your body IF the police dogs are ever able to find it, was I clear? Get the fuck out of here, you piece of shit!" he growled, throwing Ethan out of the house onto the grass, watching as the drugged man got up, stumbling in his own feet.

"Fuck it! Fuck you, Y/N! Fuck you and this piece of nothing of yours! I didn't even want to have a baby anyway! Fuck it! Fuck..." he went away, vanishing at the road.

But Adrian didn't have time to really slow down the pace of his heartbeat.

"Adrian!" Mads' voice called him inside.

Y/N was on the ground. A huge pool of water around where she was sitting, embracing her belly and grunting in pain.

"She's in labor!" Mads warned, "Fuck, I'll... I'll pick up the car... Shitty bastard..." he grunted, stumbling towards the room to pick his keys.

The pain in his balls not letting him walk properly.

Adrian rushed inside, kneeling beside Y/N who immediately held his hand, fully scared.

"I don't wanna lose him! Adrian, please! I don't wanna lose my Patrick!" she cried, scared.

But Adrian held her hand tight, caressing her face, wiping her tears.

"Hey... Hey, look at me, Y/N, uh? Look at me... You won't lose him, ok? You won't lose Patrick. We'll take you to the hospital and we'll see him today, uh? He'll be born today, love. Don't worry..." he tried to keep her calm while seeing Mads dizzy at the door with the keys in his hands.

"Shit..." Mads cursed again.

"Mads, look at me, brother. I'll go. You stay with Joy in case that bastard decides to come back, ok?" Adrian said, reading the concerns in Mads' eyes.

His wife would be there alone with the child, in a house that was just broken by a drugged invader... Adrian could understand his worries.

"But..." Mads started, but Adrian cut him, lifting Y/N up into his arms.

"Bring her bag, Mads," he insisted, firm, keeping himself straight. "We must hurry."

For a second, Mads thought he should sit and read those books of Adrian. Somehow, it made his friend pretty more whole than he was when Joy started moaning in pain the way Y/N was moaning now in Adrian's arms.

"Fine," Mads said, following his friend's instructions without questioning.

Adrian seemed to know exactly what he was doing when he placed Y/N in the front seat of the car, locking the seatbelt to avoid hurting her belly, caressing her face when she grunted in pain once again.

"Hold on, love. We'll be there soon," he ensured.

Mads put her bag in the back seat and Adrian got into the car.

"Call me, brother," Mads insisted and Adrian nodded before turning the car on, driving to the closest town.

It was a small hospital, but the town's health center would serve.

"She's giving birth!" Adrian got into the place calling everyone's attention towards the woman shrinking in his arms.

In a matter of seconds, Y/N was on a stretcher, with a pair of nurses taking care of her as a man was pulling the thing towards the proper room.

However, when they crossed the door and Adrian stood outside, Y/N yelled extending her hand towards him.

"No! I want him with me! I want him here!! Adrian!" she screamed, fully scared.

And a nurse pushed him into the room, surprising him completely.

"Come on, dad put this on," she said, putting a mask and a coat in his hand.

He would say he wasn't Patrick's father, but she didn't even give him time to think. Everything was moving so fast around them and all he could see was Y/N's hand extended towards him.

"Fine," he thought, getting dressed.

He could tell everyone he wasn't the father after... Now, she needed him and he just came closer, holding her hand as she grunted in pain one more time.

"Don't leave me, please... Don't leave me alone... It hurts!" she cried again, but Adrian caressed her face, taking the sweaty strands of her hair out of her forehead.

"It's ok, love... You can do it..." he encouraged.

He felt when she clenched his hand tighter, grunting and trying to breathe the way he had showed her in the books. Adrian smiled... He was really being something good in that woman's life. He was really doing something good, after all.

His hand didn't leave Y/N's for a single second. And it was in his arms she collapsed after one last intense effort, breathing against his shoulder before the sound of Patrick's cry filled the room.

Y/N giggled against his shoulder; her eyes teary.

"You were right, Adrian..." she mumbled, "I did it... He's here... My sweet Patrick is here," she cried.

And the nurse brought the little child packed in one of the blankets he remembered she chose for the baby in a ride with him to the stores of that town. Adrian couldn't think it would be so beautiful wrapped around that child. Patrick rested against his mother's chest and Adrian could see his beautiful eyes, y/e/c orbs, like hers, looking at him from her arms.

"He's so... Beautiful..." Adrian mumbled, seeing when Y/N smiled at him.

"And he'll go with daddy a little while we take care of his mom, ok? Hold him for us, dad. We'll put mom in her room and then the big family can be together again," one of the nurses said before Y/N passed little Patrick to his hands, full of trust.

She would speak to them about this later, but for now, Y/N couldn't feel safer about the hands that were holding her child.

Adrian, on the other hand, saw himself caught unprepared. The innocent and young child was there, looking at him, wrapped in the blue blanket he bought for him, with her beautiful eyes fixed in his face.

Patrick...

Not even in his dreams, he imagined such a beautiful child. His eyes filled with tears thinking on how many times he saw himself that way, holding Victoria's child, lulling his little dream. He knew it wasn't his Patrick. Nor the child he waited for so long or dreamed about. But somehow, it was happening and for a moment, Adrian let himself forget everything and live that moment.

"Hello, buddy... I'm the guy that was speaking to you from outside... Remember?"

Somehow, Patrick looked at him, caught by his voice. And Adrian's heart filled with an explosion of emotions when Patrick's face sketched a smile.

He knew it was reflexive... He knew the children of his age - with minutes of life - couldn't really smile voluntarily. But he also knew that reaction was more commonly expressed when the child was relaxed or safe...

Patrick could recognize his voice...

That child was feeling safe in his arms.

Adrian couldn't hold back the tears that slowly slid through his cheeks.

"It is magical, bro," he remembered Mads' words speaking of Kyle.

His brother was right.

It was.

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connorrenwick · 3 years ago

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Floris Hovers Shares How He Reinterpreted the for Red Stitch

Dutch furniture brand Red Stitch enlisted the creative mind of Dutch designer Floris Hovers back in 2019 “to release all conventions and create a new sofa sprung from his free creative mind.” The design process didn’t begin where it normally does with sketches, and instead Floris made a miniature sofa from found materials in his Raamsdonksveer workshop. “Most designers start from an upholstery point of view. I wanted to start with the frame as a focal point,” says Floris. After COVID-19-related delays, the FLOAT Collection has officially launched with a 3-seater sofa, 2-seater sofa, chair and footstool, each comprising two elements – the wooden frame and the upholstered cushions that slide over it. The benefit to the slide on cushions is that they can be changed out for other colors when desired. Speaking of colors, the cushions come in your choice of three colors – Royal 6 – ocre, Royal 9 – green, and Royal 18 – blue – with three frame colors that match – RAL 8001 – ocre, RAL 7033 – green, and RAL 7031 – blue – all of which can be mixed and matched for different looks. For this month’s Deconstruction, we’re sharing Floris Hovers’ unconventional design process of the FLOAT collection.

When Dutch furniture brand Red Stitch asked renowned designer Floris Hovers to make his interpretation of the sofa, he immediately decided that he didn’t want to make yet another styled variation of the sofa archetype. Based on his never-ending childlike imagination Floris started with the raw idea of creating something that fit his workflow and that is creating and making the prototype himself in miniature format from different materials available in his workshop in Raamsdonksveer, the place where he grew up and still lives.

Floris started by constructing the sofa frame with little wooden planks. He intended to make it a prominent esthetic element of the design.

Feeling confident about its proportions Floris started with the second and final component, the upholstered cushions. Being a creator he grabbed a cleaning cloth from the kitchen pantry and started drawing the sewing template.

The good thing about cleaning cloth is that it is easy to cut without the chance to fray, because it’s a microfibre material, it’s cheap and within reach. After cutting the templates from the cloth, Floris finished the cover by adding stitch work to fix the tails.

Floris wanted the cushions to be really comfortable and invitingly round and fat. He filled up the cover with cotton wool. After coating the frame the miniature prototype is ready. The advantage of a miniature prototype is that you can actually hold it in your hands and look at it from every possible angle.

After approval of the concept and its proportions, Floris made a technical sheet for the frame construction department.

The Red Stitch production facility has both an upholstery and construction department that includes CNC milling machines under one roof. Red Stitch and Floris Hovers decided that the frame is constructed from birch plywood with beech for extra strong support. Because Floris wanted the frame to be color coated, the difference in texture is marginally visible. The steel No Sag springs are for extra sitting comfort and the slots are to strap the seat cushions to the Velcro.

Floris didn’t want the upholstery to be stapled to the frame in order to simplify the process of changing it. Initially Red Stitch experimented with dividing the seat into two separate cushions, but this disrupted the logic simplicity of the design, so they changed it into a single cushion. The side and back cushions are attached to the frame by simply sliding them on and off the plywood side and backrests.

Colorization is a vital element of all of Floris’ work. For the launch of the Float collection Floris selected some colors from the Royal collection by Danish Art Weaving. Its color scheme is based on the colors Danish designer Arne Jacobsen used for his quintessential design of the Royal SAS hotel in Copenhagen. The frame colors are matched and are interchangeable to create exciting color combinations.

For more information visit www.redstitch.tv.

via http://design-milk.com/

from WordPress https://connorrenwickblog.wordpress.com/2021/08/17/floris-hovers-shares-how-he-reinterpreted-the-for-red-stitch/

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