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marysfics · 9 days ago

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In the Blur of Sight, I Found You—The One Who Sees Me Beyond What’s Visible

You’ve always lived in the shadows of your own uncertainty, but will she be the one to bring your world into focus?

Word count: 3.7k

Angst, Fluff

This fic has a happy ending.

You were sixteen when you first met Alexia Putellas.

Back then, she wasn’t the global icon of football that the world knows now—just a girl with bright eyes, messy ponytails, and dreams too big to keep quiet. You weren’t much different. A quiet soul with a condition that made life feel unpredictable: some days, you could see the world clearly, every blade of grass sharp beneath the sunlight; on others, your vision was a foggy mess, as if the universe had decided to drape a curtain between you and the rest of humanity.

It was on one of your better days when you first saw her.

Your friend dragged you to a local football game. “You need to get out more,” they had said, nudging you. You remember sighing, reluctant but too polite to refuse. As soon as you settled onto the grass beside the pitch, something pulled your attention—or rather, someone.

“Who’s that?” you asked.

“That’s Alexia,” your friend replied casually. “She’s going pro one day. No doubt about it.”

“Alexia,” you whispered to yourself, tasting the name on your tongue as you watched her effortlessly weave through defenders, the ball glued to her feet.

It was the first time you saw her smile after scoring a goal, and for some reason, the sight rooted itself in your mind. Bright, genuine, almost radiant—a warmth that lingered even when the sun dipped below the horizon.

You never forgot that day.

Your paths didn’t cross right away. It wasn’t until a year later, at a school tournament, that you truly met. By then, your eyesight had deteriorated further. On most days, you could barely make out people's faces unless they were right in front of you. It made connecting with others... complicated.

“Do you want to kick the ball around?”

The voice caught you off guard. You looked up, blinking rapidly, trying to focus on the figure in front of you. It was her. Alexia. Even in a blur, you would’ve recognized her—the warm, confident tone that was always gentle yet unyielding.

“Me?” you asked, unsure.

She smiled. “Yeah. You.”

You could hear the laughter of others as she pulled you up. You weren’t exactly known for your athleticism. In fact, you had a reputation as “the girl who sometimes stares off into space,” or, worse, “the girl who bumps into lockers.”

But Alexia didn’t seem to care.

“I’ll go easy,” she teased, tossing you the ball.

You missed it entirely.

“I can’t really…” you started, your voice trailing off.

“Can’t what?” Alexia asked, her curiosity genuine.

“See the ball. Or you.”

For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause, and you braced yourself for the awkward apology or the pity you were so used to. But instead, Alexia just shrugged.

“That’s okay. I’ll make sure you can feel where it is.”

From that moment on, Alexia took it upon herself to pull you into her world.

For her, football wasn’t about what you could see—it was about rhythm, sound, and trust—things you could feel deep inside. When your vision faltered, she was your guide. When you wanted to quit, she laughed and told you to try again. What you didn’t realize at the time was that you were starting to fall in love with the way she saw no limitations in you—only possibilities.

Time moved forward, carrying you both through life’s challenges. Alexia was accepted into Barcelona’s youth academy, and though you cheered her on from afar, you kept your support quiet—scribbling words of encouragement in letters you never had the courage to send. Your condition remained stable, but always unpredictable. You focused on your own passions—writing, music, and art—things that allowed you to experience the world on your terms.

You’d run into Alexia from time to time at the coffee shop you both loved. Every time, she greeted you like no time had passed.

“How’s your sight been?” she’d ask gently, concern in her voice.

You’d smile, always a little tired of answering but grateful for the care behind her question. “Depends on the day. How’s football?”

Her eyes would light up, her face animated as she described her latest matches, the training routines she was mastering, and the goals she was chasing. But, without fail, she always made time to ask about your art.

“I wish I could see what you make,” she said one day, her voice full of longing.

“Maybe one day I’ll show you,” you replied, your heart racing at the thought.

It wasn’t just a promise to her—it was a promise to yourself, because Alexia never treated your vision as something that defined you. She cared about what you felt, what you created. And even as her fame grew, you remained part of her orbit—quiet, steady, and unspoken.

One afternoon, as you sat in your usual corner of the coffee shop, Alexia looked at you with a thoughtful expression.

“Have you ever thought about glasses?” she asked. “Couldn’t we get you something to help?”

You felt a familiar weight in your chest at the suggestion. Glasses had been offered so many times before, but you knew they wouldn’t help. Not in the way she hoped. The thought of explaining it again felt exhausting, but Alexia deserved honesty.

“They won’t really make a difference,” you said softly, shaking your head. “My vision’s just… not like that.”

Alexia’s brow furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t press. Instead, she gave you a smile that didn’t need explanation.

“Okay,” she said, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “Then I’ll just have to keep being your eyes.”

And in that moment, you realized it was enough. For both of you.

Your days started to fall into a quiet rhythm—sometimes steady, sometimes unpredictable. Your eyesight shifted as if it had a mind of its own: some mornings you woke up with a surprising clarity, able to see details that had escaped you for years, while on others, the world blurred beyond recognition. The good days felt like gifts, moments to savor, while the bad days taught you patience and resilience. Alexia, as always, was a constant thread woven into it all.

The coffee shop became your shared place. More and more, you’d find her waiting for you with an easy smile and two cups of something warm. She’d wave you over even if you weren’t sure it was her at first—always loud enough for you to know you weren’t alone.

“You’ll never believe how today’s training went,” she’d say, already launching into a story. You’d listen, absorbing every detail—the way she talked about her teammates, her goals, the highs and lows. But the best part was when she turned her attention back to you.

“What about you? Did you write anything today? Paint something?” she’d ask, genuinely curious.

“Trying,” you’d say with a small smile. “Some days it feels like I see the whole picture. Other days, I just see smudges.”

Alexia tilted her head once when you said that. “Does that bother you?”

You hesitated. “Sometimes. But maybe the smudges are just part of it. Like I’m supposed to fill in the rest myself.”

She grinned. “I like that.”

And somehow, you knew she understood.

There were days when your vision was clear enough that it caught you off guard—when you could see Alexia’s face without squinting or straining. Her expressions became more vivid: the way her brows pulled together when she was lost in thought, the dimple that appeared when she smiled wide. It made everything feel more… real. More fleeting.

One day, during one of your better mornings, she dragged you out to a park with an old football under her arm.

“I’m going to teach you to play properly this time,” she announced.

“You know I can’t—”

“You can,” she said firmly, passing the ball toward you. “Besides, you can see today, right?”

You nodded. “For now.”

“Then we’re taking advantage of that.”

It was clumsy at first—kicks that missed, laughter that filled the air—but Alexia’s patience never faltered. She ran alongside you, calling out directions and laughing every time you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“Okay, okay, try to keep your body over the ball,” she said through her chuckles, gently nudging your shoulder. “You’re practically dancing out here.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to be graceful,” you shot back, earning a snort from her.

By the time you both collapsed onto the grass, out of breath and exhausted, the sun had started to dip low in the sky. Alexia lay on her back, her eyes closed, while you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching her.

“Good sight day?” she murmured after a moment.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “A good day.”

Her lips curved into a small smile, and for a moment, you didn’t want to blink—afraid that when you did, the clarity might vanish.

But not every day was like that.

On the bad days, when your vision was just a haze of color and light, you often stayed home, overwhelmed by frustration. Alexia, however, didn’t let you disappear. She’d text you, call you, or sometimes just show up at your door.

“Don’t hide from me,” she’d say firmly, a teasing edge in her voice as she pushed her way inside. “You don’t need perfect eyesight to sit and talk.”

She’d sit cross-legged on your floor or flop onto your couch, filling the room with stories about her week, recounting goals she’d scored or mistakes she was determined to fix. You’d listen, finding comfort in the familiarity of her voice, even when you couldn’t see her face.

“Are you frustrated?” she asked once, catching you in a quiet moment.

You nodded. “I hate that it changes so much. That I can’t predict it.”

Alexia’s voice softened. “I get that. But you’re still you. On good days and bad.”

Her words settled deep, in places you hadn’t realized needed reassurance.

The more time you spent together, the more your world expanded. Alexia saw you—not your limitations, not your unpredictable sight, but the person you were beneath all of it. She never made you feel like you were less. If anything, she made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t before.

And slowly, you realized you were falling for her. The girl who taught you to feel where the ball was. The girl who never let you disappear on bad days. The girl whose laughter made the world seem brighter, no matter how blurry it looked.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not yet. Not when the future felt so uncertain.

For now, you let yourself exist in the moments—good days, bad days, and everything in between. Because Alexia was there, steady as ever, making you believe that even when you couldn’t see clearly, you could still feel.

The years stretched forward, but the two of you remained tethered, no matter how far life tried to pull you apart. Alexia was carving her name into the world of football, rising steadily through the ranks, while you quietly honed your art—writing, painting, capturing the world as you felt it, even when you couldn’t see it clearly. You both grew into yourselves in ways that were both separate and intertwined, like two threads in the same tapestry.

By your early twenties, everything between you and Alexia was still… unspoken. A quiet current ran beneath every interaction, a constant presence neither of you wanted to name for fear of breaking it.

It was late one night when she called you. You could tell something was off the moment you picked up.

“Are you home?” Alexia’s voice was unusually small.

“Yeah. You okay?”

“Can I come over?”

“Of course.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was on your couch, a hoodie pulled over her head, her knees tucked up against her chest. The sight of her—so small and tired—made your chest ache. She was always so strong, so put together. But not tonight.

“What happened?” you asked softly, handing her a mug of tea.

Alexia stared into the cup for a long moment before answering. “I missed a penalty today. It was stupid, but it mattered. We lost because of me.”

Her voice cracked at the end, and you felt something break inside you.

“You’re human, Alexia,” you murmured. “You’re allowed to mess up.”

She shook her head, frustrated. “Everyone keeps saying that, but it doesn’t change the way it feels. It doesn’t change the pressure.”

You sat down beside her, your knee brushing hers. “It’s okay to feel that. You carry so much, Alexia. But you’re not alone, you know?”

She looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, you forgot to breathe. Her dark eyes were searching, full of something heavy and unspoken.

“You always say the right thing,” she whispered.

“I just mean what I say,” you replied, your voice barely above a murmur.

There was silence, but it wasn’t empty. It stretched between you like a thread pulled taut. Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, Alexia leaned in just slightly, her face so close to yours that you could see her even on one of your worst sight days.

“Do you ever wish things were… different?” she asked softly.

The question settled in your chest like a stone.

“Different how?” you managed, though you already knew what she meant.

Her gaze dropped to your lips for just a second before she pulled back, as if realizing something too late. She let out a shaky breath, her hands tightening around the mug.

“Never mind,” she whispered. “Forget I said anything.”

But you couldn’t forget. You wouldn’t forget.

That night haunted you in the weeks that followed. The way she looked at you, the way her voice wavered like she was balancing on the edge of a confession. You thought about all the times you’d caught yourself staring at her—her smile, her focus, her laugh that always made your heart race. You remembered every time she reached for your hand without thinking, every hug that lingered just a little too long.

You’d loved her for so long, it felt like breathing—so natural you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

But saying it out loud? That was a risk you weren’t sure you could take.

It was on one of your bad sight days when you finally broke. You’d woken up to a world that was nothing but shadows and shapes, frustration simmering under your skin. You tried to paint, but the colors blurred together, the brushstrokes clumsy.

When Alexia showed up later that afternoon—completely unannounced as usual—you were ready to push her away.

“I’m not really in the mood today,” you muttered when you opened the door.

Alexia ignored you, stepping inside and holding up a brown paper bag. “I brought food. You need to eat.”

“Alexia, I can’t—”

She turned to face you, cutting you off. “I know today’s hard. But you don’t get to shut me out.”

Her voice was firm, but her eyes were soft. It was her, always her, and you hated that she could see through you so easily.

“It’s not just today,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “It’s every day. It’s waking up not knowing if I’ll be able to see your face or if the world will just be colors and light. It’s trying to keep up with you—someone who has everything figured out—when I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Alexia’s brows pulled together. “You think I have everything figured out?”

“You do. You’re you.”

She took a step closer, her voice quieter now. “And you’re you. Do you think I’d keep showing up if you weren’t the most important person in my life?”

Your heart stopped.

“What?”

She took another step, closing the distance between you. Her hand found yours, her thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.

“You’ve been here for me through everything. Every goal, every failure, every day I wanted to quit. And you never asked for anything. I don’t care if you can’t see me, because I see you. I’ve always seen you.”

Your breath hitched. The words you’d been burying for years suddenly felt too heavy to hold back.

“I love you, Alexia,” you whispered, the words falling out before you could stop them.

Her lips parted, surprise flickering across her face, but it didn’t last. She smiled—a small, gentle smile that melted something inside you—and squeezed your hand.

“I love you too,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And maybe it was. Because loving Alexia had never been hard. It had always been there, unseen but deeply felt.

She pulled you into her arms then, holding you close, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that everything—good days, bad days, and all the moments in between—was enough. Because she was there.

And she saw you.

The days that followed felt different—so much closer. It was as if saying the words had changed the way the air moved between you and Alexia. The silences felt heavier, but not uncomfortable. Her touches lingered, her gaze held yours longer, even on the days when you couldn’t fully see it. You were aware of her in a way that made your chest ache, as though your heart had been holding its breath for years and was finally allowed to exhale.

But still, there was a line—blurred and uncertain. You both danced around it, never quite stepping over.

It wasn’t until a quiet evening at your place, weeks later, that everything boiled over.

You were on the couch, your legs tucked under you, while Alexia lay sprawled out beside you, her socked feet resting against your knee. She was talking about an upcoming match, one that carried extra weight for her team, but you were only half-listening. Her voice was soothing, rhythmic, like a song you’d memorized years ago.

“What about you?” Alexia asked suddenly, catching you off guard.

You blinked. “What about me?”

She propped herself up on one elbow, tilting her head as she looked at you. “You’ve been quiet tonight. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“Nothing,” you said, too quickly.

Alexia’s brow arched. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You sighed, shifting uncomfortably. You could feel her eyes on you, warm and searching, and suddenly the weight of the past few weeks felt impossible to hold any longer.

“Alexia,” you started, your voice cautious, “what… what are we?”

The question seemed to hang in the air, sharp and fragile all at once. You weren’t even sure you wanted her to answer. Part of you was terrified to hear what she’d say.

Alexia blinked, her expression softening as the words registered. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you replied, your voice steadier this time. “We say we love each other, we spend all this time together, and… it feels like more. But we never talk about it. We never… define it.”

Alexia sat up fully now, her knees tucked against her chest as she turned to face you. Her gaze was steady, unshaken, but you couldn’t quite read it.

“I didn’t think we needed to define it,” she said quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “Maybe you don’t. But I do.”

She exhaled softly, looking down at her hands for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I’m not avoiding it. I just—” She hesitated, searching for the words. “I guess I thought it was obvious. That you’re it for me.”

Your heart stuttered. “What do you mean?”

She leaned closer, her voice soft but firm. “I mean you’re the person I care about most. You’re the one I want to see at the end of every long day. You’re the one I think about when I’m on the field or when I can’t sleep. I don’t care what we call it, as long as I’m with you.”

Your breath caught, but something inside you still resisted, still hesitated. “But what does that mean, Alexia?”

“It means I love you,” she said, the words simple but full of weight. “And I want to be with you. Not just as your friend, not just as someone in your orbit. I want us to be something. You and me.”

Her honesty hit you like a wave, overwhelming and undeniable. You’d spent so much time wondering if you were imagining what you felt, if you were overstepping. And here she was, meeting you in the middle with the same certainty you’d been too afraid to claim.

“But what if I can’t…” you started, your voice trailing off.

“What?” Alexia pressed gently.

You struggled to say it. “What if I can’t give you what you need? What if my bad days—my eyesight, my moods—what if it’s too much for you?”

Alexia’s expression softened, and she reached for your hand, threading her fingers through yours. “Do you think I’m here because it’s easy?”

You stared at her, taken aback.

“I’m here because I want to be,” she continued. “Your bad days don’t scare me. Your moods don’t scare me. I know you, and I love you. Not the idea of you. Not the version of you that’s perfect all the time.”

Her words settled deep, wrapping around you like a balm for every hidden fear and unspoken insecurity.

You swallowed, your voice shaky when you finally spoke. “I love you too. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she said softly, leaning closer. “But we can’t keep tiptoeing around this, can we?”

You let out a small laugh, the tension breaking just slightly. “No, I guess not.”

“So?” she asked, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Will you be mine? Officially?”

The words were lighthearted, but you could see the vulnerability in her eyes, the hope she was trying so hard to hide.

“Yes,” you whispered, smiling despite the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I already am, Alexia.”

Her grin lit up her whole face, and before you could say anything else, she leaned in and kissed you—soft and slow, as if she were memorizing the shape of you. Her hands cupped your face, her thumbs brushing your cheeks gently, and you melted into her, letting the rest of the world fade away.

When she finally pulled back, she pressed her forehead against yours and whispered, “Good.”

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt clear.

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Would you like to read little blurbs about this in the future?

#woso x reader #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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hadesoftheladies · 1 year ago

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actually, it’s good for radblr to start talking about the wins of feminism. I know there’s still a long way to go, but there’s actually a lot of progress that feminism has made and I mean A LOT in terms of global society. not only has feminism been one of the best and most powerful social movements ever, but it’s done that nonviolently. female separatism, women resisting and choosing solidarity with each other, women demanding rights, HAS WORKED and it is a spit in the face of these women to say “we’re never going to make it out” simply because it’s still bad in many places. if we keep dismissing feminism as futile, men win. and we shouldn’t because it’s not true! we CAN have separatist societies, and non-separatist societies CAN improve because they have before.

some recent wins are:

-This FIFA World Cup has become the most watched women’s World Cup in history, with 1.5 million tickets sold. Many people are taking women’s football more seriously. I have been seeing videos of men and women packed in pubs to cheer on athletes. Kids are no longer referring to only male athletes as footballer heroes! Men are sharing highlights and admiring the skills of these athletes from a genuine love of the game!

-Barbie topped Oppenheimer at the box office. This movie has sparked so much self-awareness and reflection all over the internet and the world. It is not radical, but it is still culturally impactful. Greta Gerwig is now one of the most respected directors in Hollywood rn.

-Period products are now free in Scotland!

-Latin America is incredibly pro-choice, and different kinds of abortion bans have been lifted.

-FGM in Africa has GREATLY reduced and continues to reduce!

-World Athletics ruled in favor of keeping women’s sports female! This is a huge win for female athletes!

There’s so much more, and we should talk about it. Attitudes can change. These conversations are becoming more mainstream. And feminist activism DOES PRODUCE RESULTS, whether that’s separatism, art, demonstrations, etc. Respect that history!

There are women and (and male allies) right now who are working their asses off to kill the prostitution, human trafficking and porn industries, there are feminist movements within major religions happening, there are girls excelling in academia and getting into male dominated spaces, there are women fighting to make the internet safer and better, there are women working to make period products free and available…pay attention to these things and join whichever fight you can! you will not find yourself alone in your efforts!

we do not wait to see if there is any hope in the world. we create a hopeful world. there IS hope for women, so long as we have it

#feminism #radblr #radfem

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chingyu1023vick · 1 year ago

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Mod Updates: October 2023

Some mod maintenance in my birthday month. 🤗

Oct 22, 2023:

UPDATE: Less Obsession V9

Added from requests: Backfloat, Bubble Tea, Celebrity Obsession, Cowpoke Dance, Cross-Stitch, Dance To Mirror, Football, Guitar, Monkey Bars, Mud Play, Practice Acting, Practice Speech, Read Book To Kids, Recreation Table, Smash Dollhouse, Snow Pile, Watch Laundry, Watch Movies

Overhaul of all packages to enable more autonomy for likes in those activities or high-level skills, and restricted by Sim's motives. Please delete all old packages started with chingyu_Less and download these new packages.

Please give feedback on the new activity autonomy levels since I tuned the autonomy. I may adjust the autonomy levels again later with more testing in the game. 😉

Oct 18, 2023:

UPDATE: Inherited Aspiration Bonus V5

Updated to add inheritance from parents with EP14 Horse Ranch personality traits

Fixed the wrongly duplicated packages in the By Chance zip

UPDATE: Smarter Self-Care V18

Revised all needs for better autonomy

Fixed missing string overrides for infant ages

Added Smarter_WildFoxNeeds_EP11 & Smarter_HorseNeeds_EP14

Oct 16, 2023:

UPDATE: Custom Traits in Club Filter v22

Added more traits: LGBT traits from Lumpinou; Dormant Occult Traits from baniduhaine; Houses Of Witchcraft from LittleRedSonja

UPDATE: Balanced Life {Merged Edition} V17

Minor updates for patch 1.101

Remove mood overrides from the merged edition to work with my new mod. You can still download and use the Global LESS EXTREME Moods Override from SEPARATE MODULES if you want to keep that feature and not use my new mod.

🔆 Changelog in October 2023 HERE

🔹 Links to ALL My Traits, Game Mods, and CCs

🔹List of IDs for creators who want to refer my traits to their own mods

🔹 List of Chingyu’s CC Traits Name and Descriptions for mod users

🔹 Check Mod Status after a patch & Compatibilities

👁‍🗨 Learn how to install a mod & FAQs

👁‍🗨 Terms of Use

👁‍🗨 Ask Questions/ Suggestions/ Bug Reports on Discord

▶ I need to see a screenshot or LE report to help you figure out what’s wrong!

👁‍🗨 Download on my Patreon

👁‍🗨 Follow me on Twitter

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c1oudyxm4rs · 18 days ago

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Fxck pretty, your gorgeous

COLLAGE UA

➳ tags ;; #bakugoukatsuki #BakugouxBlackreader #Bakugouxfemale #fluff #angest #Blackwriter #myheroacademia #mha #MxF #mha x black reader #bnha bakugou #anime oneshot #bakugouoneshot #bakugo fluff #mha fluff

➳ wc ;; 893

➳ plot ;; You and Bakugou have been best friends since you were both in kindergarten. You guys talked about everything and he was always one of your biggest supporters when it came to your music career because he knew it meant a lot to you. And you were his when it came to his football games, you always tried to make time when you could because you knew it made him more happy than he would ever let on.

You both cared about each other but it would always be in a brother-and-sister manner up until recently. You had recently broken up with your ex, and you both were still on good terms and talked all the time. It wasn't until you guys were on Facetime that he changed your mind about something.

➳ a/n ;; This is my first time so any tips and any good advocate would be helpful, thanks

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

“Girl you like him, just admit it. The way you all spend time together, the way you talk about him?? You like that boy” Da’von said, stuffing his face with food he had just bought.

“Da'Von no I don’t, me and Katsuki are just close that's it, it's not like I like him or anything. Plus he has a girlfriend.” You said taking off your makeup in the mirror.

“You and me know damn well, she is cheating on him. Plus I could quiz you and you would know every damn answer” He said side eying the camera.

“No, I wouldn’t and don't say that about Crystal. I'm pretty sure she really likes him, and this is the happiest I have ever seen him.” You said wiping your face, then put your makeup wipes in the trash then put your tablet on your bed since the Facetime call was on there.

“The happiest I ever see him is with you, girl. With that crystal girl, he is only half happy trust me, now this quiz. How old is he?”

“25”

“Favorite color?”

“Black is all he ever wears”

“Hip-Hop, R&B, Rap or Pop?”

“He listens to everything but mainly R&B”

“What is one thing he does that is related to you?”

“Skip his classes to come to mine if I'm in the building that day”

“And he doesn't like you? Girl you trippin.” Da’von said laughing

“Even if, he has a girlfriend, Da'von, it wouldn't make any sense. You know he doesn't cheat.” You said lying down on your bed and opening your phone.

“It's not cheating if you like a person from a distance…” He said looking away from the camera

“Da’von”

“Sorry”

The rest of the call went on as normal, talking about people you didn't like, catching up with drama and then hanging up to go to bed. Did you really like him? At this point you didn't know, Da’von had really had really made you think but you put it off till the morning.

When you wake up, clean yourself up, and get dressed by putting on some sweatpants, a black crop top, and a black jean jacket. You did some light makeup, did your edges, your braids into a ponytail then grabbed your stuff and left out your dorm. Your classes were pretty normal and boring since you had a morning schedule. After you finished up you went to your dorm for lunch to find Kat in your kitchen making noodles and had the TV on watching YouTube like he was your dorm mate. (P.S. He wasn't)

“What the hell are you doing in my dorm?” You ask about taking off your shoes and the door and shutting it behind you.

“Do you not see me making food, use your eyes before you ask stupid ass questions, mkay?” He replied with his normal sassy remark.

“Asshole”

“Whatever, you coming to my game tonight? Coach Evans said it might be the last of the season. I want you to go so you should…” He mumbled.

“Shit, the game is tonight? I can’t have an interview with Global. I can’t pass this up like my first official interview, my manager said it was hella important.”

“So is this game, you can't just slip in for at least 30 minutes to see me play? Please. I never ask you for nothin’ and now all I'm asking for is this one little thing?.” He pleaded

“Katsuki you know better than anyone that this is a one-time opportunity, I don’t know when I'm gonna get an offer like this again. You know better than anyone that I wouldn’t miss this game on purpose come on, please. Just a reason to listen.” You begged trying to reason with him. You know you sounded shitty but it was such a big opportunity. He sighed and then clenched his fist.

“Kat please, I promise I will make it up to you. I swear.” You said taking his hand, but snatched his hand back and cursed to himself.

“Whatever, I don't care anymore. Do what you want”

“And the food is for you…” He said grabbing his bag and leaving before you could even stop him. You felt like shit but this meant a lot to you, and if you had to hurt his feelings then so be it but you weren’t gonna let the chance slide.

You tried texting him on your way to your interview but he never answered and just left you on red, at this point you didn't know what the hell you were gonna do, he couldn't ignore you forever you knew you hurt him but you never thought it was that bad. You decided to leave it alone it seemed like the more you tried to justify your actions you sounded more like a damn jackass. You sighed to yourself and continued driving.

When you got there you were greeted kindly, the director told you and your manager Kimmy what was gonna take place during the interview, you were gonna answer the 30 most answered questions and then sing one song that was gonna come out on your next album. You were pretty nervous before everything started but once it did you felt pretty good about everything…but little did you know how bad everything was gonna go downhill.

To be continued....

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

➳ a/n ; I hope you guys liked this, please be nice this is my first time writing something like this and English is not my first language. If you guys enjoyed this let me know if you want a part 2!

#bakugoukatsuki #BakugouxBlackreader #Bakugouxfemale #fluff #angest #Blackwriter #myheroacademia #mha #MxF #mha x black reader #bnha bakugou #anime oneshot #bakugouoneshot #bakugo fluff #mha fluff

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collapsedsquid · 4 months ago

Text

In its simplest and most elemental form, check kiting is the simple practice of stealing money or valuable goods by paying for them with a check that you know (or ought to know) will be rejected because there aren’t sufficient funds in the bank account to honor it. In this form it is known to the specialists as “paper hanging,” and it’s often a crime of desperation or one carried out with stolen checkbooks rather than a calculated commercial decision—there are obvious disadvantages to a method of stealing that requires you to give the victim your name and address. It is possible to make paper hanging into both a systematic fraud and a lifestyle, as Frank Abagnale did (and wrote about in his autobiography, Catch Me If You Can, later made into a movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio). Abagnale got over the main drawback by adopting a nomadic lifestyle and impersonating an airline pilot, something that also allowed him to travel for free, to date flight attendants during the high period of Pan Am recruitment sexism, and to have a plausible excuse for needing to cash checks all the time and not having a permanent local address. But as a commercial fraud carried out by businesspeople, check kiting is a little bit more sophisticated and takes advantage of a peculiarity of the American banking system. [...] The important technical detail here is that because paper checks are particularly common in America, and because the check-clearing cycle is so long, American banks have—unusually in a global context—historically been very generous when it comes to allowing their business customers to make payments out of “uncleared funds,” that is to say checks that have been deposited into their account but that have not yet been endorsed by the bank that they are drawn on. Effectively, when you deposit a check, you get access to a short-term interest-free loan, lasting for the duration of the check-clearing cycle. This raises the possibility of a form of fraud that is the equivalent of NFL football and pumpkin pie—something that Europeans would no doubt enjoy greatly if they tried it, but that is so deeply embedded into the overall American way of doing things that it doesn’t really travel.

What you do (in the simplest form) is that you open accounts in two banks. Call them Bank A (from which you get a checkbook with pictures of trees in it) and Bank B (which gives you a checkbook full of pictures of sports cars). Pretend for the time being that you put a token hundred bucks into each account. But now you write a check for $500,000 from your “trees” checkbook and deposit it in your Bank B account. That check is going to bounce, for certain. Except… it will only bounce when the check gets presented, and in the meantime, thinking that you have $500,000 in the bank, Bank B will not mind if you write a sports-car check and deposit it in Bank A. If Bank A sees the sports-car check, they will not mind honoring the trees check for the time being, while they are waiting for the sports-car check to clear. If they honor that check, then you can write another check to Bank B, and so on…

Of course, this looks like a bit of a closed system—you can make the checks going back and forth look as big as you like, but if you ever take the money out in cash or spend it on something, the checks will actually bounce and turn you into just another paper hanger. But creating the illusion of having two bank accounts with half a million dollars in each can be profitable in itself because as well as allowing customers to make payments out of uncleared funds, American banks used to be quite generous about paying interest on deposits as soon as they were made. In the heyday of check kiting in the early 1980s when interest rates were in the midteens and bank computer systems in their infancy, you could have earned quite a lot out of the simple kiting scheme described above, unless someone happened to notice. And although even a dull bank clerk might spot a kite based on two banks and checks going back and forth every few days, if you bring more banks into the scheme (“chaining”) and intermingle the kite with the ordinary back-and-forth cash flow of a large operating business, it becomes very difficult to detect.

Interest rates are back baby, guess it is time to bring back kiting

#lying for money

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bigairplaneblog · 5 months ago

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Antonov An-225: The Biggest Airplane in the World

When it comes to airline airplane models, there's one that towers above the rest—quite literally. The Antonov An-225, known affectionately as "Mriya" (which means "Dream" in Ukrainian), holds the title of the biggest airplane in the world. This massive aircraft is not just a large airplane model in the figurative sense; it's the largest in every conceivable dimension.

The Antonov An-225 was originally designed in the 1980s to transport the Buran spaceplane, the Soviet Union's answer to NASA's Space Shuttle. But its capabilities far exceeded its original mission.

With its maiden flight in December 1988, the An-225 quickly became a symbol of Soviet engineering prowess, and later, an indispensable asset in global heavy-lift cargo transportation.

So, what makes the Antonov An-225 the biggest airplane in the world? Let’s delve into the details.

A Giant Among Giants

The sheer size of the Antonov An-225 is mind-boggling. This large airplane model has a measure of 84 meters (275 feet) in length, with wingspan size of 88.4 meters (290 feet). To put that into perspective, it's longer than an American football field and has a wingspan wider than a Boeing 747. The An-225 stands at 18.1 meters (59.3 feet) tall, nearly as tall as a six-story building.

This airline airplane model is equipped with six turbofan engines, each capable of producing 51,600 pounds of thrust. These engines, combined with its enormous wings, allow the An-225 to carry a maximum takeoff weight of 640,000 kg (1,410,958 pounds). This includes the cargo it carries, which can be up to 250,000 kg (550,000 pounds). This impressive lifting capability makes it the go-to choice for transporting oversized cargo, such as wind turbine blades, military tanks, and even other aircraft.

The Unique Capabilities of the An-225

The Antonov An-225's cargo bay is so large that it could fit 50 cars. The interior is 43.32 meters (142 feet) long, 6.4 meters (21 feet) wide, and 4.4 meters (14.5 feet) high, making it spacious enough to accommodate a wide range of oversized items. Unlike many other cargo aircraft, which load through a rear cargo door, the An-225 is loaded through the nose. The aircraft's nose lifts up, allowing direct access to the cavernous interior. This feature is crucial for loading extremely large and heavy objects that cannot be easily maneuvered.

Another notable feature of this large airplane model is its 32-wheel landing gear system. This complex system allows the An-225 to land on runways that would be unsuitable for other aircraft of its size, providing flexibility in the types of airports it can access.

The An-225 also has a range of 15,400 km (9,569 miles) when carrying a smaller load, but this decreases as the payload increases. Despite this, its range and payload capacity make it ideal for long-distance heavy-lift missions, and it remains a vital tool in global logistics.

A Record-Breaking Aircraft

Throughout its operational life, the Antonov An-225 has set numerous world records. In 2001, it carried the heaviest single cargo item ever transported by air—a 189-ton generator for a power plant. In another instance, it transported a 130-ton piece of machinery from Germany to Kazakhstan, marking the largest payload ever carried by an aircraft.

The An-225 has also been used in humanitarian missions, delivering supplies to disaster-stricken areas around the world. Its ability to transport large quantities of aid quickly and efficiently has made it an invaluable resource in times of crisis.

The Legacy of the Antonov An-225

The Antonov An-225 is not just a marvel of engineering; it's a symbol of what human ingenuity can achieve. Despite being over three decades old, this airline airplane model remains unmatched in terms of size and lifting capacity. Its continued operation is a testament to the foresight of its designers and the enduring need for such a massive aircraft in today’s world.

However, the An-225's future is uncertain. The only existing model has been in and out of service due to the high costs of operation and maintenance. There's also been speculation about building a second An-225, but financial and logistical challenges have stalled those plans.

Despite these uncertainties, the Antonov An-225’s legacy is secure. It continues to capture the imagination of aviation enthusiasts and the general public alike, reminding us of the heights—both literal and figurative—that human technology can reach.

In conclusion, the Antonov An-225 is not just the biggest airplane in the world; it’s a symbol of human achievement. From its origins as a Soviet space transporter to its current role in global cargo transportation, this large airplane model has set records and exceeded expectations. Whether or not it continues to fly for years to come, the An-225 will always be remembered as a giant among giants in the world of aviation.

#aviation #aircraft #airplane model #aircraft model #airplane

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zot3-flopped · 2 months ago

Note

There's a piece on the Daily Mail that gives a very interesting behind-the-scenes of Liam's life (they also talk about a big childhood trauma but "whose full details the Mail has chosen not to publish"). It's behind a paywall but I've discovered that many times the reading mode in Firefox and Safari gets through anyway, so here it is:

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Liam Payne's serious childhood trauma and why having a baby so young with Cheryl couldn't bring the stability that may have saved him: KATIE HIND

It was the autumn of 2011, and I had been summoned to Sony Music’s west London HQ to meet Britain’s hottest new boy band.

A few months earlier, five hopeful teenagers had auditioned for ITV’s X Factor talent show – and the music impresario Simon Cowell had drawn them together to form One Direction.

The fledgling stars had already attracted a global fanbase in the millions: a juggernaut that was drawing comparisons to 1960s Beatlemania, even though they had yet to release a song.

Now that was about to change. The band’s debut single, What Makes You Beautiful, was launching the following week – and I was there to interview the boys behind it.

Although they had seemed like sweet young things when we had briefly met at the Fountain Studios in Wembley, north-west London, during their X Factor live shows the previous year, I had expected these precocious adolescents to now be full of self-importance at their growing fame.

How wrong I was.

I arrived to find five handsome young men politely waiting to greet me, but one of them stood out thanks to his cute curly hair and his charming, talkative manner.

No, not Harry Styles – the only ex-1D member who has gone on to forge a successful, long-term solo career – but Liam Payne. Dressed down in a navy hoodie and jeans, Liam wrapped me in a warm hug and excitedly introduced me to his bandmates – Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan and Zayn Malik – in his strong Wolverhampton accent.

Looking younger than his 18 years, Liam told me how badly he was missing his beloved mum Karen’s cooking – so much so that he had resorted to eating chicken dippers warmed up in the microwave.

Living as he was out of suitcases in hotels, he asked me for ironing tips as he had yet to learn how to use one – and said he still spent much of his free time playing Nintendo.

He admitted that he had practised putting his hands behind his back and trying to sing like his hero Liam Gallagher, the snarling Oasis frontman. ‘I probably looked a bit stupid though,’ he said.

He also spoke lovingly about West Bromwich Albion, the football team he had supported since he was a young boy – though he regretted that he no longer had time to cheer them on in person.

As for girls, Liam told me he preferred shy and quiet ones, although he revealed he’d fallen in love with X Factor’s 2006 winner Leona Lewis, while he found singer Tulisa Contostavlos ‘really, really hot’.

Overall, he struck me as an innocent abroad – a child, really – who seemed too vulnerable a soul to last long in the cut-throat music world.

As the years passed, I met Liam many times at industry events and in chance encounters – and I never shook that worrying sense that he was, in some ways, a lost little boy.

I could never have known, of course, that just 13 years after our first interview, Liam would perish in the most terrible circumstances – following a long spell of torment, scandal and drink and drug abuse.

His descent into addiction had been playing out, in public and in private, for years – worsened by his fragile emotional state.

Many had tried to help him quit the substances that were destroying his life, but to no avail: following his death in Buenos Aires’s five-star CasaSur hotel on Wednesday evening, what appeared to be cocaine and heroin paraphernalia were found in his wrecked suite, with its smashed TV and half-drunk flutes of champagne.

It was a squalid end for one of the most famous young men in the world, so adored by ‘Directioners’ that he insisted he couldn’t leave his hotel without a large security detail (although it’s worth pointing out that other former bandmates, including the global megastar Styles, often travel without huge entourages).

So where did it all go wrong for him – and how did that smiling boy I met all those years ago, rough around the edges as he was, come to such a terrible end?

There is no doubt that he struggled, even more than his bandmates, with that explosive early fame and notoriety.

In a candid moment at 2014’s Brit Awards, Liam told me how difficult he found it to be unable to blend into a crowd. The band’s relentless schedule had taken its toll on him, as had the long months away from home.

He often wished, one of his friends later told me, that he had gone to university like many of his schoolmates.

Of course, Liam came to enjoy a lifestyle unimaginable to his old contemporaries at St Peter’s Collegiate, his Church of England secondary school in Wolverhampton.

Despite his insatiable appetite for drugs, his large property portfolio, his endless jaunts on private jets, taste for high fashion and luxury hotel stays, his bank balance was still thought to be in the millions when he died.

For all his fears that he had peaked so young, he still had decades ahead of him – and ample time to grow into the contented father to Bear, his son with Girls Aloud star Cheryl Tweedy, his friends and family longed for him to become.

But I can reveal that behind that smiling, cherubic face, Liam had suffered serious trauma in his childhood: a shadow from which he felt he could never escape and whose full details the Mail has chosen not to publish.

One friend told me: ‘Before he even began his showbiz career, he had demons from his formative years. He struggled with that and never quite got over it. He was in a band with four other guys, he could get any girl he wanted and he was earning millions – but he struggled to enjoy any of it.’

I can vouch for that: of all the 1D members, Liam seemed by far the most uncomfortable with his fame and fortune.

I would see him most years at the Brits, where at first he would dash over to say hello, often reminding me that he had enjoyed me asking him ‘fun questions’ at our first interview.

Yet as time went on, his chaotic living began to catch up with him, and his manner became ever more unpredictable.

In February 2013, at a Brit Awards afterparty organised by his music label at the upmarket Arts Club in Mayfair, I saw him drunkenly dancing with his bandmates – by far the most bleary-eyed of them.

That December, I bumped into him in the Kurt Geiger shoe shop in Canary Wharf, east London, where he was buying his then girlfriend Sophia Smith – a former school sweetheart – a pair of boots for Christmas.

Gone was his carefree demeanour of just two years earlier, he now seemed strikingly shy. He told me he had bought a penthouse flat in the Docklands, and at my insistence, he posed for a picture with me before dashing off.

During 2013’s Take Me Home tour, the band performed an average of a concert every two days, completing 124 dates between February and November. That, I’m told, put unbearable pressure on Liam, who would often say that he ‘just wanted to be normal’.

Of course, the fame came with perks – women chief among them. Liam’s best-known romance was with Cheryl, who was ten years his senior, which had begun in 2016 following her split from her French husband Jean-Bernard Fernandez-Versini.

They quickly became the most talked-about couple in showbiz –and only six months after they were confirmed to be an item, Cheryl revealed she was expecting their baby.

For Liam, however, the pregnancy was a huge shock: he was, he allegedly told friends, not ready to become a dad.

With 1D having gone on ‘permanent hiatus’ in 2016, he was trying to launch his solo career, and becoming a father – especially to a woman a decade older than him –was not part of his plans.

He told friends that he felt like Cheryl, who was 33 when Bear was born, had used him so she could have a baby.

When Bear, now seven, was born in 2017, Cheryl grew increasingly fed up that she was stuck at home with the baby while Liam was away jet-setting.

‘Liam was flying around the world promoting his music,’ said a friend. ‘He was in the zone Cheryl had been in ten years before with Girls Aloud. It led to some furious rows.

‘He began using private jets so he could get home quicker, but it wasn’t enough. Cheryl wanted a proper family unit and Liam just could not give it to her. Things got really bad and tempestuous. Liam was a young lad in his early 20s and he just wasn’t ready for it all.’

Inevitably, they split up – giving Liam even more time to ‘go off the rails’, as one former associate of the star describes it.

Even when they were co-parenting, Cheryl desperately hoped that Liam and Bear would develop a strong father-son bond, despite Liam’s addiction issues.

‘Cheryl knew what a state he was in,’ says a source. ‘She wished she could make it better.’

And she wasn’t alone in that wish: as Liam turned from being a cheerful teenager into a tormented, angry young man, many of those closest to him tried unsuccessfully to rescue him.

He was dropped by more than one of his managers due to his erratic behaviour and his failure to turn up to work engagements.

In September 2017, Cheryl, Liam and Bear went on a luxury holiday to Majorca: a birthday treat for Liam. But he injured himself while drunk.

As the years went on, he only got worse.

In 2022, a gurning Liam appeared to be high on drugs at a post-Oscars party in Hollywood. In footage that went viral for all the wrong reasons, he replaced his Wolverhampton twang with a bizarre Los Angeles accent.

One friend of Liam’s called me in horror to share their fears that he ‘really wasn’t OK’. Last year, Liam moved to a sprawling mansion near the Buckinghamshire town of Chalfont St Giles to be further away from the temptations of London and closer to Bear, who lived nearby with Cheryl.

However, neighbours tell me that he brought his problems with him. They would often spot him coming home in the early hours in chauffeur-driven cars, often with women in tow.

While I’m told he tried to see Bear regularly, his unpredictable lifestyle frequently made this impossible. Instead, Cheryl was largely left to bring up the little boy alone with the help of her mother Joan.

Liam’s new home was also close to a woman who some describe as his fairy godmother – the Olympic heptathlon gold medallist Denise Lewis.

Her husband Steve Finan worked with Liam for several years and the couple were at his side through some of his most difficult times – including his fall-out with Cheryl.

He would often stay at their home as they battled to keep him sober.

‘Liam adored Denise,’ says a source. ‘She mothered him and really tried to support him.’

Yet in recent months, his life was clearly spiralling out of control. His on-off girlfriend, Maya Henry, 23, had recently hired lawyers to send a ‘cease and desist’ letter to the star, accusing him of repeatedly contacting her and her loved ones.

Liam’s friends insisted he was angry and upset at her, adding that her behaviour was due to her wanting to publicise her new book.

And only last week, I’m told Liam had a huge row with his manager over his forthcoming album, whose release – to Liam’s fury – had been delayed because it was deemed ‘too poppy’.

A source said: ‘There was a blazing row and the album was put back again. The single from it had flopped and there were concerns. Liam desperately wanted that album to come out: despite everything, he thought of himself as a musician.’

To make matters even worse, just a few days ago Liam’s record label dropped him.

Another source said: ‘People begged him to get help and suggested that he went to Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous meetings, but he wouldn’t take them up on it.’

His most recent girlfriend was Texan model Katie Cassidy, whom he thought might have been The One. She too had tried to help him, but left Argentina to return to the US two days before he died.

‘Lots of people cared for Liam,’ said a source. ‘He had so much love around him.’

Yet all the love in the world was not enough to rescue this desperately unhappy young man, who for all his fame and fortune could never escape the demons that haunted him from his lost, tormented youth.

www dailymail co uk/tvshowbiz/article-13972405/Liam-Paynes-childhood-trauma-having-baby-young-Cheryl-bring-stability-saved-KATIE-HIND html

Thank you for this. Plenty of interesting insights here.

#liam payne #louis tomlinson #harry styles #zayn #niall horan #1d

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thirteenemeraldcats · 11 months ago

Note

in one of your tags you mentioned-

'one of the things that gets chatted about A LOT in teaching is meeting students at their point of need- which ted does NOT do with jamie'

I would love to hear more of your thoughts on this! Both in terms of what that concept entails, and also what you think Jamie's point of need was at the time versus what Ted saw the situation needing

(You have excellent tags btw, don't know if anyone's mentioned that)

I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS ON THIS THAT I LOVE THAT YOU'D LOVE TO HEAR!

(I have more thoughts than I anticipated, this got errr, long. Whoops)

(potentially necessary/relevant background here is I am a high school teacher 👋)

Okie dokie, so, one of the principles of best practice in teaching is the idea I tag-rambled above; meet both the individual students and collective class at their point of need. Essentially this means practising differentiation in teaching and adjusting how content/ideas are communicated to students based on who they are as learners and people. Particularly if a student is performing outside the 'average' (either exceeding or still developing), this means adjusting to their needs by (among other things) curating differentiated resources and adapting delivery style. Differentiation is especially important in an all-abilities classroom, unfortunately public education is perpetually underfunded and overcrowded so everyone's just out here doing their best (the decent people of the world at least). BUT! WHILE I'M ON IT! SPEAKING OF THE THINGS I'VE TAG RAMBLED, the education system's (global) inability to adequately differentiate for students of different-abilities, particularly students with ADHD, ASD and Dyslexia, is perhaps the greatest failing of the whole dang thing and if anyone who ever stumbles across this is neuro-divergent and feels like they were a bad student or couldn't 'keep up' in mainstream education- THAT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT. You don't have to break yourself to 'fit', school is MEANT to bend for you. (Particularly when you're young, ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU'RE YOUNG)

ANYWAY, the fictional football of it all!

We don't see a lot of Ted actually coaching in this show (stick with me). The scenes in which he 'coaches' are typically him and various other coaching staff standing on the sidelines while the team skirmishes or occasionally runs drills, so me saying Ted doesn't differentiate is more based around his patented Ted-talks. NOW, Ted PROBABLY knows the team fairly well as individuals, particularly in season 2 and 3, purely by having spent quite a lot of time with them, despite this the only times we really see him 'adjust' his style with the team are ironically season 1 (examples include conferencing Jamie and Roy in 1x04 For The Children, and allowing/facilitating Nate's speech in 1x07 Make Rebecca Great Again). The moment that always sticks out to me as most significant is when he goes and seeks out Keeley's advice on how to get through to Jamie in 1x02 Biscuits.

Side note: I will be forever obsessed with Keeley jumping straight from 'blowjobs' to one of the four operant conditioning techniques (positive reinforcement) when asked about this. That woman is a very fascinating puzzle of a person.

Ted recognises that his typical perpetual-optimism-style isn't cracking the Jamie-Tartt-nut and seeks out a different opinion. This kind of collaboration and whole-system approach is key in teaching too, either by tapping the knowledge-well of a student's broader school context or the difficult-to-crack student's parents.

SO, having gotten the Jamie-Tartt-cheat-code from Keeley he DOES meet Jamie at his point of need, speaks clearly to him and communicates what he needs from him. AND IT WORKS! Temporarily! During the conversation between the two in Ted's office we see Jamie engage, he even practises self-reflection! Granted it's about his left foot cross, but still! The nut is cracked.

Jamie even maintains the perspective Ted has taught him for about two seconds while talking to Trent, until Jamie's other (definitely not positively-reinforced) behaviours rear up and he reverts to what James others have taught him.

On the other hand.

Multiple times throughout the show we see Jamie be visibly or verbally confused by Ted's communication style. Ted often talks in meandering metaphors that Jamie doesn't seem to be able to follow. We verbally hear him state 'Why doesn't he just say that then, do you know what I mean?' in 2x07 Headspace after Beard has to translate Ted's 'peas and carrots/beefchunks' analogy to 'starters and reserves'. Then there's the infamous 'What the fuck are Denver Broncos?' from 3x09 La Locker Room Aux Folles. The only notable time we really see Jamie 'get' one of these metaphors is the sewer-system-tunnels from 3x01 Smells Like Mean Spirit.

(His understanding of that specific metaphor, along with his use of the magnets to demonstrate total football in 3x07 The Strings That Bind, and a Watsonian-perspective of his near perfect mimicry of movements he saw two years ago when executing the decoy play in 3x12 So Long, Farewell, are actually all examples I use to head-canon Jamie as a primarily visual/physical based learner. For whatever that's worth!)

NOW! Ted's willingness to seek and apply alternate techniques in season 1 when he should know the team as both individuals and a collective the least, coupled with his inability or unwillingness to practise differentiation in later seasons when he DOES KNOW THEM is why I don't think Ted is meeting the team, specifically Jamie at their/his point of need. Any person's ability to differentiate behaviour to meet the needs/requirements/comforts of the individual or group they're talking to is increased the more they know them. (We all do this in life, consciously or subconsciously we typically try and 'match the vibe' of whoever we're communicating with [doubly so for people who're engaging in masking.])

Ted should and does learn more about Jamie as a person and his background as the show progresses. He listens to Jamie vocalise both his internal justifications for his actions and his reflections of those justifications/actions in 1x06 Two Aces, he sees him being explicitly physically abused in 1x10 The Hope That Kills You, he listens to him describe a spiralling mindset in 2x02 Lavender, he sees him being explicitly verbally abused in 2x08 Man City.

Of course, one of the fascinating things about Jamie is how much he learns and grows over the course of the show, and there are instances in which I don't think Ted is recognising that (primarily his dismissal of Jamie in 3x03 4-5-1 and not utilising Jamie's knowledge of total football as a resource from the beginning in 3x07 The Strings That Bind).

Ted understands and has previously applied Jamie responding well to positive reinforcement, yet at multiple times in the series doesn't respond in a way that reflects his perspective being informed by that knowledge. Essentially not practising the appropriate level of care/caution when interacting with/around Jamie.

There's not intervening on Jamie's behalf in 2x03 Do the Right-est Thing or 2x06 The Signal when the team and Roy are targeting or ignoring him respectively. The assumed absence of any follow up to the events of 2x08 Man City, the Zava of it all in season 3, and of course the eternal 'forgiveness' kicker from 3x11 Mom City.

POINT BEING. And to actually answer your inquiry lol, I think Jamie is someone who needs clear communication, ideally bracketed in positive reinforcement based operant conditioning as a learning technique (reward behaviour you want reinforced by offering something desirable [praise in Jamie's case]) and visual/physical aid/references for concepts; as a LEARNER.

AS A PERSON, there's more. Ted can readily infer from all he's heard and seen that Jamie's a victim of child abuse. The long term damage to the adult psyche that abuse during formative years has is astronomical, it literally changes the foundational structures of a person's brain. And yet, again, we never see Ted even acknowledge this. Jamie in 3x11 Mom City, incidentally compares his father to Freddy Krueger, Ted elaborates on the comparison, then Jamie reiterates that Freddy Krueger's 'fucking terrifying'. Ted doesn't reassure Jamie (the requirement of his point of need), he gives him a Ted-talk (and in doing so doesn't differentiate his perspective/communication technique).

As far as what Ted thought the situation needed... search me I've got no idea. I do think Ted projects onto Jamie a hell of a lot. That he gets Jamie's personhood and life experiences all tangled up in the emotions he has about his father's death and his consequent perceived abandonment, his insecurities about his own ability to parent Henry and even in his own inability to clearly communicate with his mother. I do think Ted relies on his own forced optimism to 'get by'. Like how a great white shark dies if it stops swimming, if Ted stops being 'Ted', if he stops swimming, his past and his fears and his feelings will catch up to him and swallow him whole. (For what it's worth, I do think Ted is more unwell than even the show explicitly tells us, much like Jamie experiencing ongoing trauma due to childhood abuse, the effects both short-term and long-term as well as potential causalities of having a parent die by suicide are... grim.)

(Essentially the entire fandom has talked about basically all of this at one point or another, I'm just using slightly different language.)

NOW! These characters are fictional (obviously) and I am judging them based on real-people conventions and the best-principles of my own profession, as well as my background in theoretical psychology (which I think I forgot to mention and is also probably [??] relevant). My Doylist-perspective of Ted and his coaching/communication style is ...kinder, but if I get too sucked into the narrative it results in either brief tag-rambles or... whatever this thing I've just typed is. I think it's been too long since I've written academically, my thoughts have gone circular 🫠

ANYWAY! I hope this made something-approaching sense! Thank you again for asking to hear my thoughts! Always happy to word vomit!

ALSO, thank you for saying my tags are excellent (you are the first and currently only to say so!) - The tags are where I send my thoughts to die (in a 'I must banish them to move on' kind of way rather than a 'I'm strangling them' kind of way) so you saying they're excellent is even MORE flattering than you realise! Makes my brain want to purr 💚🤣

#what do i even begin to tag this slab of text as YEESH #ted lasso #jamie tartt #theodore lasso #ask box is always open #come hit me up for teaching rambles or psych rambles or fandom rambles or general rambles ANYTIME #readwing #jamiesfootball #oh shit trigger warnings #suicide #child abuse #if this indeed makes no sense i would like to blame it on the fact i've written it while drinking wine through a straw #(it's my friday night okay)#i'll post this in the morning when i've had the chance to read it while NOT drinking wine through a straw #hola- it is now morning and i'm only slightly hungover! win!

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wearingaberetinparis · 1 year ago

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And You Heard About Me

A Jily Celebrity AU inspired by the romance between Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce.

Lily Evans is a Grammy-winning singer-songwriter and global superstar, who recently broke up from her latest and long-term actor boyfriend Amos Diggory. James Potter is a professional football player who plays as a forward for Manchester United and has never been quiet about his celebrity crush: Lily Evans. When Lily Evans thus plays at Wembley Stadium - a place he is more than familiar with due to his being part of the England team - he just has to go and see her perform, embracing his inner, besotted fan boy, while the woman on stage is completely oblivious to his presence. Or is she?

Read And You Heard About Me HERE!

This is probably poorly edited and it did turn out differently from how I had expected, but when I saw the final word count for this story, I knew I had to stop: 12013 words. That's so close to Taylor's birthday (12/13) that I felt as if all the stars had aligned. (I hope you guys enjoy this. I'm always nervous about my work and feel like I might disappoint you. I hope this is not the case now!)

#jily fic #jily fanfiction #jily #james potter #lily evans #jily celebrity au #taylor swift inspired #jple #jily modern au

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matriayawrites · 10 days ago

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The Hot Zone

wordcount: 30k

rating: e

pairings: travis konecny/nolan patrick, travis konecny/ofc, (tk/pat endgame!!)

tags: covid times, pat has an onlyfans, friends to lovers, omg they were roommates

a/n: i finally finished it babyyyyyy!!!

Ao3 link

Preview of ch 1:

Travis is worried at first when the whole fucking world goes into lockdown for COVID and he gets trapped in a two bedroom Philly apartment with Nolan, but honestly, it’s been kind of fantastic. Like sure, half the time they get on each other’s nerves. Nolan has threatened to toss him off their 11th story balcony on more than one occasion, and once, Travis was a little worried he actually might.

But overall? It’s pretty great.

Nolan’s been his best friend since they were in middle school, which makes them the perfect lockdown buddies. They had more sleepovers growing up than Travis could count. This is sort of like that, only with adult money. And they have to work from home for 8-10 hours a day. And Travis’s mom isn’t around to bring them snacks. Whatever. The honest truth is, if Travis has to be stuck in an apartment for an unknown amount of time with any person, he’s glad it’s Nolan.

Travis’s job working at Valvoline is on hold since no one needs their oil changed when they don’t go anywhere, but the company was able to transfer him temporarily to online support, which he can do from the comfort of his living room. Nolan? Nolan makes his money a different way:

On OnlyFans.

Travis will admit it’s kind of weird at first. It’s not like he doesn’t know Nolan is gay. Travis was the first person Nolan came out to back in high school when he developed an inconvenient crush on the football quarterback. Nolan having sex isn’t a surprise either. He picks up more dudes than Travis ever has ladies, and Travis isn’t exactly a slouch in that department - (or wasn’t, before a global pandemic squashed his sex life like a bug.)

But sex work? It was weird at first.

He’s come to terms with it. Now it’s just…a thing Nolan does. After Travis gets off work, they have dinner, play some video games or watch a movie or something, and then Nolan goes into his room, shuts his door, and jerks off in front of strangers. A lot of strangers, if his paychecks are to be believed. Travis hasn’t ever looked him up. Sure, he’s been curious. Who wouldn’t be? Sometimes he has to wear earplugs at night to keep the sound of Nolan moaning to a minimum. But actually looking always felt like crossing a line.

He supports his best friend no matter what, and if that means getting a white noise machine and industrial-strength Loop earplugs to sleep at night, then that’s what he’ll do.

It doesn’t affect Travis much, other than the sleep concessions, until one day it does.

Eight pm looks like a fucking dream across Philly, with the sun splashing everything in a beautiful orange. Travis keeps one curtain open, and there’s a slant of sunlight across the living room that’s starting to leak onto the TV screen, which is kind of annoying, but is also so pretty that he doesn’t mind. Yet.

He’s not even really watching ESPN, just has it on in the background while he’s scrolling his phone. Instagram is the same damn thing over and over. This depressing/hopeful see-saw of people moaning about their cooped up state, mixed with exotic pictures of foreign locales they all wish they could be at.

There’s one of Sanny and his girlfriend, tucked up all cute together on the sofa with their dogs. Hashtag quarantine, hashtag blessed. Another of Travis’s brother Chase with his wife and their little girl, all masked up and giving the cameras thumbs up. Hashtag mask up for life, hashtag covid strong. It makes something in Travis’s chest ache. He sees his friends and family pretty frequently over Zoom. He and Sanny had lunch over Zoom this afternoon, even. But it’s not the same. He fucking misses everyone.

Nolan emerges from his room wearing a ratty pair of basketball shorts and a scowl. Travis looks up long enough to register the grumpy expression, then looks back down at his phone again. Honestly, if he’d had to do this whole quarantining thing without Nolan, he’d have gone insane ages ago.

Nolan drops down onto the couch beside him, one arm slung over the armrest, and props his bare feet up on the coffee table.

“They know who you are.” He doesn’t look at Travis, keeps his gaze on the Sixers highlights reel.

“ That’s cryptic.” Travis says, reaching over to punch Nolan lightly on the arm. “Who knows who I am? The mafia?”

Nolan is unusually pink-cheeked for eight pm. He blushes like a motherfucker a lot of the time, and Travis has run into him in the hallway in the middle of the night before when he was taking a break from streaming to find him so fucking red he’d looked like he’d smeared lipstick on his cheeks, but normal Nolan doesn’t always ruffle easily.

This Nolan? Sitting next to Travis right now, avoiding his gaze? This Nolan looks ruffled.

“My fans.” Nolan mumbles.

That makes Travis put his phone down.

“Your what?” he asks.

Nolan lets out a long, dramatic sigh and rolls his head along the back of the couch to look at Travis.

“My fans. My subscribers. I was streaming from a different angle the other day and the door wasn’t totally shut and you walked by. Now they know who you are.”

Travis laughs. “So? Did you tell them you live alone or something?”

It earns him another even bitchier sigh.

“No. I didn’t tell them anything about that, but they…I don’t know. Assumed? And now they think you’re my boyfriend or whatever.” Nolan’s words go decidedly mumbly on that last bit, and Travis laughs even harder.

“Bud, you wish you could pull someone as hot as me.” He leans over and jostles Nolan with his shoulder. Nolan’s a solid wall, deeply entrenched in the cushions by this point, so he barely moves. He gives Travis a small smirk, which they both know means Nolan can and has pulled people way hotter than Travis before, but he gives Travis the small victory.

“Just tell them we’re roommates or whatever. Who cares.” Travis tells him.

It’s sweet of Nolan to worry, but Travis doesn’t give two shits what a bunch of horny men and women on the internet think about him. He doubts it’s enough to identify him if push comes to shove, and the people at his work aren’t likely to subscribe to Nolan’s channel. Maybe. Probably not.

“I get it dude.” He reaches out and pats Nolan’s thigh. “You like to keep it separate. You want me to come on and do an AMA? Ask the Straight Best Friend?”

Nolan grins. “They’d eat you alive,” he snorts.

Travis may not know what Nolan’s fans are like, but he follows a few women on OnlyFans. He knows what people can be like in the comments section. The sunset is turning half of Nolan’s face orange now, and it’s kind of pretty. He’s just so pale, and it makes him look like an ethereal modern art piece.

“Yeah, probably. But if it makes it easier for you…” he trails off.

He knows Nolan’s been struggling. Fuck, everyone on the planet is struggling right now, but beneath his gruff hermit exterior, Nolan’s a bit of a soft nugget. They don’t exactly talk about this shit because duh, but Travis has heard him talking to his mom over Zoom, getting weepy when he thinks Travis can’t hear. And like… maybe they should talk about this shit, because it’s a big deal! Anything he can do to make Nolan’s life better, he’s going to do, no questions asked.

Nolan doesn’t answer for a solid two minutes, just stares at the basketball players as they run across the screen, and lets out a huff of derision as Embiid misses his free throw. Just when Travis has decided Nolan’s going to ignore his suggestion entirely, Nolan turns his head again to look at Travis.

“Yeah.” Nolan says with a small smile. “That would be cool.”

#tknp #nolan patrick #travis konecny #hockey rpf #matriaya writes #omg they were roommates

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uplaay · 1 year ago

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The Global Passion: Exploring the Phenomenon of Soccer's Popularity

Soccer, known as football in most parts of the world, isn't just a sport; it's a global obsession. With billions of fans and centuries of history, soccer holds a special place in people's hearts worldwide. In this blog, we'll delve into the fascinating factors that make soccer the most popular sport on the planet while ensuring it's SEO-optimized for maximum reach.

1. Simplicity and Accessibility

Soccer's beauty lies in its simplicity. It would help if you had a ball and a few markers for goals and were ready to play. This accessibility means that it can be played in any corner of the globe, from Rio de Janeiro's streets to rural Africa's fields. The universal appeal of a sport requiring so little play is undeniable.

2. Low-Cost Equipment

Unlike many other sports that demand expensive gear, soccer requires minimal equipment. This makes it an affordable option for players of all backgrounds, eliminating financial barriers and ensuring that anyone with a passion for the game can participate.

3. The World Cup: A Global Celebration

The FIFA World Cup is the pinnacle of soccer. Held every four years, it brings together nations from every corner of the planet. The tournament's pageantry, drama, and the sheer scale of the event capture the imaginations of millions. The World Cup isn't just a sporting event; it's a celebration of culture, unity, and national pride.

4. The Universality of the Sport

Soccer is the lingua franca of sports. Regardless of language or culture, anyone can enjoy a soccer match. The rules' simplicity and the game's universal language make it a sport that can transcend borders and bring people together.

5. Legendary Players

Soccer has produced some of the greatest athletes and icons in the world. Names like Pelé, Diego Maradona, Lionel Messi, and Cristiano Ronaldo are revered for their skill and ability to inspire generations of fans.

6. Club Football Rivalries

Club football has its brand of passion and intensity. Rivalries like Barcelona vs. Real Madrid, Manchester United vs. Liverpool, and Boca Juniors vs. River Plate evoke emotions beyond ninety minutes of play. These club rivalries keep fans engaged year-round.

7. A Sport of the People

Soccer has a rich history of being a sport for the masses. It often represents the hopes and dreams of communities and nations. From local clubs to national teams, soccer resonates with people from all walks of life.

8. Social Media and Global Connectivity

In the digital age, social media has amplified soccer's popularity. Fans worldwide can connect, share highlights, and engage in real-time discussions about the sport, making it a 24/7 global conversation.

Conclusion

Soccer's popularity isn't just a result of its thrilling gameplay; it's a culmination of its accessibility, universal appeal, and the emotions it stirs in fans. The sport transcends borders, languages, and cultures, uniting people in a way few other activities can. As the world continues to change, one thing remains constant: the universal love for the beautiful game of soccer.

#Soccer #Football (if you're targeting a global audience)#SoccerLife #SoccerPassion #Footy (a slang term for soccer)#BeautifulGame #SoccerGoals #SoccerFans

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thatstormygeek · 2 months ago

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The problems with her campaign are mostly problems that take years, rather than months, to fix. It sure would be nice if the Democratic Party network had the type of networked media apparatus that the Republican Party network enjoys. It sure would be nice if the party had spent years building local organizing capacity at the grassroots level across swing states and the south (Give us forty-eight more Ben Wiklers and Stacey Abramses, please!). It sure would be nice if the billionaire class hadn’t bought up all the media networks, and if the courts hadn’t repeatedly decided that the law is for little people, and if government was still mostly in the business of trying to improve peoples’ lives. But you campaign in the short-term and then (try to) govern in the medium- or long-term. Over the course of these few months, there aren’t many decisions the Harris campaign has made that I think they should meaningfully regret. I’m not sure how to feel about all the Liz Cheney, cross-partisan-coalition events. It’s clear that the Harris campaign is betting that they can create a permission structure for Nikki Haley voters to cast a ballot for a Democrat. That makes me nervous, because I'm old enough to get a strong Charlie-Brown-and-the-football vibe from it. Throughout my adult life, Democrats have tried to appeal to an imagined bloc of moderate swing voters. It rarely seems to pan out. But I can also see the sense of it here. They’re basically targeting two clusters of voters — Republicans who voted in the primary, are therefore high-propensity voters, and have already voted against Trump because they don’t want to put up with his bullshit anymore, plus low-information moderates who generally just wish the parties could get along. If that sort of message was ever going to work, this is probably the election to try it.

People, en masse, just don’t believe that the economy is in good shape right now. That’s a comms problem for Harris/Walz. You can’t have the candidate insisting “no, no, the public is mistaken. Things are great right now.” That kind of gaslighting is not exactly a winning message. The state of our media infrastructure surely doesn’t help. Elon bought Twitter and turned it into a Republican propaganda and misinformation network. A handful of billionaires own most of our major media outlets, and they do not appreciate that the government is sometimes looking at their cool merger ideas and saying “no.” This, again, is a medium-term problem. You solve it by rebuilding the regulatory state and building your own media institutions over the course of years, not months. Seth Masket has summarized the state of the race as “people want change but MAGA terrifies them.” My personal hunch is that people want change because we have collectively never dealt with the pandemic. It was a once-in-a-century global catastrophe. No one was prepared for it, no one has dealt well with it, and our political leaders do not have the moral authority to address it.

#us politics #dave karpf

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louisupdates · 1 year ago

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Louis Tomlinson Introduces 28: a Brand Embodying His British Upbringing, Musical Flair, and Football Heritage

Hypebeast sits down with the Doncaster-raised superstar to discover how he channeled his passions into a community-focused streetwear brand.

Many know Louis Tomlinson as a Doncaster lad-turned-pop-icon and part of era-defining boyband, One Direction. But despite his superstar status, the 31-year-old has never lost touch with his relaxed Northern soul. It’s been central to everything he puts his mind to, from music to football… and now, fashion.

After fighting his way through X Factor, growing his talent in One Direction, and going solo after their break-up in 2015, Tomlinson split fresh ground while keeping authenticity at the forefront. Embracing the rockstar lifestyle, he has traveled worldwide on his own terms, revolutionizing his sound through chart-topping hits, including Bigger Than Me, Change, and Silver Tongues.

Now fiercely independent, Tomlinson is continuing to make strides that set him apart from the crowd, releasing his debut solo album Walls in early 2020. Leaving the pop-forward One Direction sound behind, Tomlinson embarked on a journey of self-discovery by embracing his British roots and revitalizing his musical journey with a fresh mindset.

After returning to London from the third edition of his Away From Home festival in Lido di Camaiore, Italy, Tomlinson prepares to continue his global album tour for Faith in the Future across Europe. But there’s much more than music on his mind these days – before he jets off on tour, he’s sitting down with Hypebeast to discuss all things 28, his all-new streetwear label that embodies everything he has been, is, and will be.

Growing up in Northern England naturally gravitated Tomlinson to football, selling pies at his boyhood club, Doncaster Rovers. But he’s kept a keen eye on fashion since his early childhood. “When I grew up, I viewed Doncaster as a working-class town. Now, when I go back to Doncaster, the streets have a real sense of style. That wasn’t the norm for me growing up; there was just scruffy and cool — there was really no in-between. We couldn’t afford really nice clothes, so it was just about working with what you got.”

Standing out has always been of utmost importance for Tomlinson, aligning his laidback attitude with the clothes on his back. Football tops were always a staple, taking to vintage and charity shops to find hidden gems that strayed from normality. “It was always important for me to look cool as a young lad, and I always enjoyed wearing good clothes. You might think, in a place like Doncaster, that it isn’t about fashion — and fashion might be the wrong word — because the thing that would turn people’s noses was that everyone is striving to look cool.”

Known for wearing striped tees and suspenders in One Direction, Tomlinson grew into his true self after the band’s hiatus, returning to his Doncaster roots and embracing comfort at all times. “As a young lad going into a business like this, you are surrounded by people telling you what’s cool and what isn’t. I’d say the boys could relate to this; you have to go through the motions of letting the industry tell you what they think you should do — because you don’t have enough confidence in that world yet to say: actually, no, I want to dress how I want to dress,” the singer-songwriter explains.

He grew up wearing essential British tracksuits, football tops, and trainers, drastically different from the boyband style that had every member dressed in “uniform.” “It’s only as I’ve grown confident in myself that I started to revert back to how I dressed as a young lad, just a kind of modern example of that. I really do wear Doncaster on every item of clothing that I put on, even if it’s subconscious, it’s so much a part of who I am.”

Launching 28 is a tribute to his humble beginnings in music, fashion, and sport, representing his Doncaster Rovers squad number and his lifetime devotion to the football club. The brand idea came to him nearly a decade ago, taking a closer look at standard tour merchandise and finding missing pieces, feeling “a creative itch that I wanted to scratch.”

28’s first drop is a tribute to all things football, embracing the beautiful game through vintage-inspired sports silhouettes destined for summertime. Checkered green tracksuits are ideal for pre-game antics, featuring distorted and faded patterns alongside “OFFICIAL PROGRAMME” collared jerseys.

While concert apparel caterers to the general public, 28 allows his artistic talents to run wild. “That’s why 28 excites me. It’s something that can be a little bit more tailored, a little bit more stylized. I suppose it’s similar to songwriting… seeing how deep your imagination can go when creating clothes.”

When designing 28’s first drop, Tomlinson pushed comfort forward through quality craftsmanship and refined fabric manipulations. His ideas feature heavily across every design, architected on lightweight hoodies, turtleneck collars, and distressed knitwear. Abstract floral illustrations bloom on additional designs, complementing the collection with a neutral color palette. Collections will release on the 28th of each month, expanding its sportswear identity one step at a time.

28 is undeniably football-focused, making clothes he would identify with as a young boy growing up in “Donny.” Tomlinson aims to bring his community together with interactive drops and a story to tell, enlisting emerging creatives to front the brand’s first campaign. “Community is something that runs throughout everything I do, and after getting the casting ideas for the models, I knew I wanted to use street models. I didn’t want to use that traditional model face because that’s not what I grew up with,” Tomlinson says.

“If I picture that rough lad I grew up with in Doncaster, he certainly didn’t have that look — he just looked cool in the clothes,” Tomlinson says with a wide smile, “There’s a beautiful authenticity to that. I think there’s a more interesting way and authentic way of telling these stories for 28.” While Tomlinson is the brand’s Creative Director, he sees 28 standing on its own two feet without his face attached, building a core community within its evolving identity.

So what’s in store next for Tomlinson? “I’m going back on tour, which is my favorite thing to do. At some point, there’ll be a new record. I don’t know when, though; I’m trying not to put too much pressure on myself and just trying to enjoy it. I’m mostly tour-focused right now — that’s why I love creating 28 — because it means that when my brain is all on touring and music, it’s creatively fulfilling to get into something else and scratch that itch.”

TEXT BY

Andrea Sacal

#hypebeast #louis tomlinson #28clothing #28.8.2023 #louis press

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hldailyupdate · 1 year ago

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via HYPEBEAST. (28 August 2023)

#louis tomlinson #louis update #28 clothing #hypebeast #article #august 2023

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