#PD x OD

[scoutsurge]

GAY NERDS!!!!!!!!!!

I love doodling these guys

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Track Marks And Dial Tones I

Summary: A late night call from your informant sets off an unexpected avalanche of gut-wrenching events…

Pairing: Clay Roach x fem!cop!Reader

Word Content: ~ 2.5k

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat!, 18+!, Lots Of Hurt And Hardly Any Comfort, Slow Burn, Addiction (Duh), Substance Abuse (Obviously), Used Needles, A Belt Used As Tourniquet, Clay's Disgusting Living Situation, Clay Being Absolutely Fucking Miserable, Crying…So Much Crying, Talk About A Wilfully Induced OD, ANGSTY AF

A/N: The dove isn't just dead anymore, it actually started decomposing a while ago…

I'll add the appropriate content warnings with the progress of this story!

For anybody interested: I've made a Spotify playlist to go along with the fic!

Find Part II here!

Tagging the horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess @doddernix @svgarcaine

Somewhere darker, talkin' the same shite

I need a partner, well, are you out tonight?

It's harder and harder to get you to listen

More I get through the gears

Incapable of makin' alright decisions, and havin' bad ideas

- Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? By Arctic Monkeys

"Shitbum." Pale, white letters on the screen of your vibrating phone proclaimed for the 3rd time tonight.

With each new buzz of vibrations passing by, your eyes narrowed down on the display. There wouldn't be anything good in store for you if you picked up, that much you knew for sure, but him calling three times in the span of an hour and not in one manic rush of back to back calls that ended in nothing but halfway nodded out gibberish on your voicemail was something new. Not one singular voicemail had been left so far and after your mobile phone fell back into motionless silence you waited for a notification to pop up, for the screen to inform you that "You have one unattended voicemail by Caller ID: Shitbum." But nothing like that happened. Just another unanswered call in the purgatory of your push-up notifications.

With curiously arched brows, you forced yourself to take your gaze from the phone and redirect it to your bedtime read. It wasn’t an entirely fruitless attempt, you even managed to read half a page before the screen of your phone flickered up again. You saw the display glowing in the corner of your eye and all of your attention shot right back to the device.

"Jesus, fuck…" You muttered under your breath as you rolled your tired eyes at yourself while practically snatching the phone from the nightstand.

"I need you, please." The message read as soon as you unlocked the display.

For a moment you just stared at the words, frowning and your lips subconscious pursing slightly.

"Help." The cold casing vibrated again in your touch and you felt your stomach dropping.

Clay had never asked for help before, never, not once. He might have been a dope-sick informant but he always carried his head high in his very own way of snarky arrogance and stubbornness.

"Shit, Clay. What did you do?" It shot right out of your mouth as you slid out from underneath your warm duvet and reached for your thick police jacket.

Right now you couldn't be bothered to change out of your checkered PJs, everything happened automatically; your phone got shoved into the jacket while your other hand searched through a drawer as your feet pushed themselves into a pair of sturdy winter boots.

Your fingers held onto as many clean rigs as they could while your pockets got stuffed with FTS kits, the usual you brought with you when you stopped by to check in on Clay. It happened maybe once or twice a month and absolutely nobody at the Boston PD would be pleased with knowing about it but you didn't really care. You saw something in him, something more than just a fucked up addict.

The pockets of your jacked nearly teared open with how full you had stuffed them as you leaned down to tie your shoes before rushing downstairs to grab the keys to your car from the kitchen table. Your mind was almost blank, no thoughts just operating as you threw the door behind you shut and nearly ran towards your car.

At this time of night the streets were practically empty and you very clearly speeded down the set of blocks separating you from Clay's flat...if you could even call it that. His housing situation was that of a stuffy, damp bunker that's been trashed and vandalized for god knows how long. Clean or organized were attributes that didn't exist in his realm of clutter, debris and moldy dishes.

Cold wind hit you right in the face as you left the comforting warmth of your car and hastily stepped down a flight of stairs to the subterranean flat.

"Clay? It's me. Can I come in?" You spoke through the old, creaky door and knocked loudly to make your presence known.

No response. You knocked again.

"Clay?" You heard the tremble in your own voice and you were met with nothing but silence again.

"Fuck that shit." You huffed, took a step back and kicked your heavy boot against the door with such vigor that it easily cracked out of its lock.

The fact that your intrusion wasn't accompanied by just any reaction whatsoever had your stomach dropping and twitching in every possible direction. Jumping right into that nervous cramping right beneath your lungs, a pungent yet sweet stench of decay swept out of the open door right into your nostrils.

"Oh god..", You gagged and dry heaved, stumbling back and coughing a lump of saliva onto the wet pavement, "Oh fuck…ew."

You tried to cover your mouth and nose with the sleeve of your jacket but it was little to no avail, the foul odor nearly burned in your nose as you took careful steps through the trash filled hallway.

"Clay?" You called out again, receiving no answer once more.

As soon as you turned a corner into the hellhole that could be described as his "living room", you learned why.

"Oh no! You better fucking not you fucking idiot!" It rambled out of your trembling lips as you saw his statue propped against the wall, head dangling to the side, unresponsive.

With your heart hammering against your ribcage, you practically jumped over all the rubbish piles and crouched down in front of him.

"Clay! Hey!" Your hand touched his sweaty, cold to the touch cheek before all your self-control left you and you smacked him right in the face. No reaction.

"You better fucking talk to me, Clay!" Your fingers searched for his pulse point under strands of knotted, unkempt hair as your professionalism crumbled into nothingness and a flash of tears dreaded to erupt from your lower lash line. You forced them back with every ounce of countenance you could gather whilst a sharp breath escaped your mouth as you felt his pulse. Low and slow, but still very much there.

"The fuck you think nodding out on me like that, shitbum?" You scoffed, plopping down on your ass with a heavy sigh, a bunch of music and TV magazines crumpling under you.

"Let's get this mess here sorted out.." With a wrinkled nose and furrowed brows, your gaze wandered to his left arm, the sleeve being rolled up until above the crook of his elbow.

"Okay, here we go…" You murmured, hoping, imagining that he could hear you as you raised your fingers to slowly loosen up and carefully pull the black leather belt, he had used as a tourniquet, off his arm.

"Almost done…" You placed the belt next to you before you turned back to him and drew the plastic body of an empty syringe out of his arm.

For a brief moment you just looked at it, in anger and in fear to equal parts, fighting the inner urge to just smash the needle into the ground until it would break. Instead, you placed it with the belt and sat back down, taking a look around. The flat was…bad, even for Clay's standards downright messy. It gave the heavy impression that he'd lost the plot since the last time you had seen him about 2 weeks ago. Your mind hardly knew how to respond to your eyes recognising his floor being littered with used fentanyl test strips but it brought an awkwardly lopsided, faint smile to your lips. At least something. He was using them for a minimum of harm reduction.

As you let your eyes roam through the room, you eventually discovered the source of the deathlike stench filling the flat. Even from afar you saw a thick layer of not only green but black mold practically growing out and eating through the thick paper package of some Chinese takeaway you'd brought him 2 weeks ago.

"I paid for those noodles, asshole." You huffed under your breath, a desperate attempt to ease yourself from some of the relentless anxiety raging in your chest.

The box of rotten noodles wasn't the only thing that doused this room in its odor. Countless small cardboard boxes of strawberry milk with their counterpart straws were piled up high in a corner close to the open arch leading into the dirty misery that had been something resembling a kitchen once.

From early on, you had learned that cheap stir-fried noodles and strawberry milk of all things acted as the two main pillars of Clay's cranky diet and you never really tried to change anything about it. Who were you to tell him what to do only because he worked as your informant? Overall, you just felt content knowing that his still severely malnourished body got any sort of culinary input at all.

"What am I gonna do with you now, huh? Jesus, Clay. Freaked the shit out of me." You turned your body back towards his statue, your fingers carefully rolling his sweater back down to his wrist, your fingertips lingering on his sweaty hand for a moment before pulling back.

For a good few minutes, you just looked at him and pondered over what to do now. He'd freak the hell out if you'd drive him to the ER and the ER would most likely just not give much of a fuck since he wasn't straight up ODing. You also didn’t want to leave him here like that. There must’ve been a reason for him to call and text you the way he had and you'd do jackshit before you knew what all this was about.

"Mhmmm…." Your ears perked up the very second you heard the dragged out, low groan trickling out of Clay's mouth.

"Hey there…" You practically whispered to him, careful not to spook him.

"The fuck…are you doing here?" His speech was a little slurred but he seemed to come back slowly.

"You called and texted me, Clay." You answered to him calmly whilst pulling your phone from your pocket.

Before you turned the unlocked display towards his face, you tuned down the brightness.

"Remember?" He swiped his hair out of his face and squinted at the screen, pupils blown out wide.

Clay didn't answer right away, his fogged up mind trying to piece together what had happened during the last 2 hours. The expression on his face told you that he clearly didn't like what his jumbled thoughts came up with.

"Oh….oh, no…." He stammered, sluggishly trying to sit himself up straight again, the features of his face contorting into a pained frown.

While still holding up your phone, you looked at him attentively, following how he clenched his jaws as his eyes got covered by a watery sheene, indicating the growing distress he found himself in.

"It's okay, I promise. I'm here now and I'll help you." You sought to calm him down as you put the phone back into your jacket and tried to smile at him.

It wasn’t a happy smile by far but one of affirmation and understanding.

"No…no, no…" Clay suddenly started to scurry away from you, unaware that his back was already pressed against the lifeless concrete wall.

"No, what? Please talk to me." You felt your brows arching up in worry.

"This is pathetic.", It ruptured out of his mouth in a choked back sob, "You shouldn't…I wasn't…fuck."

"Hey, now.", You carefully scooted a little closer to the dirty mess of a mattress he was sitting on, "Clay, take a breath and please talk to me about what's going on."

"Fuck off!" He spat back, turning his head away from you but you still could see a few vagrant tears running down his cheeks.

"No." You stated bluntly, stopping in your movements to give him room.

"I-...I can't do this shit anymore..", Clay's voice rendered sore and out of breath with every word, "Fuck…I-...I wasn't supposed to wake up."

At his sudden confession all the pieces in your mind fell into place and you were painfully sure to feel something breaking inside of you. A jolt of emotional hurt and plain dread ruptured through your chest, threatening to knock the air out of your lungs as the man in front of you lost his posture entirely and slumped into you, wailing and crying violently.

You caught him in a loose embrace, you recognised your body doing it but your mind could hardly catch up with what was happening.

"Oh God…I should've texted you back. Should've picked up the damn phone. Fucking hell, shit, Clay, I'm so sorry." Your own voice started cracking and flailing dangerously as the weight of what had presumably happened doubled down on you.

"No…no. I'm not your…not your problem." He sniffled into your shoulder, his weak body shaking with every heavy sob erupting from the depths of his lungs.

His croaked out words served yet another fatal hit against your already rapidly crumbling composure. You felt like simply breaking down right here, too, the need for crying and screaming all the pain and guilt out of you growing stronger with every desperate whimper of his that cut right to your bones. However, you forced yourself to keep your shit together, simply had to for Clay right now.

"Issok…", You hummed into the crown of his head, carefully tightening your embrace around his slender shoulders, "You're not a problem or a burden to me. Don't you ever think that, Clay."

Your tender words were only met by a new, reckless wave of breathless cries.

"Help me, please, help me." He whined out, the realization about the reality of his own situation heavy in his voice.

"I will, I promise. You heard that?! I promise!"

[plasmasimagination]

Hii

I'm very new in this plataform and the english is not my first language, so i'm very nervous. 😓

I saw your account for casuality and your open requests (if are still open) so, I'm here!

I can ask for a HSR and genshin matchup?

PD: I like your writing, I think it's cute and congratulations for yours almost 400 followers✌

She/Her

I'm pan, so I'm fine with anyone you think.💕

I'm ENFP and I'm pretty sure a 8w9.

I'm a bit like the tipycal sunshine character, optimish, always happy, extroverted, distracted... But I still a mature and wise person who sometime are very weird and feel like a strange, like so young and so old in the same time. (Ancient dreams from Marina is literally my song 😭)

I don't have a good relation with my family and I speake about them and my past never (That make me feel cringe) so, I considere myself like a bit mistery and reserved person for that and a others little things.

i love with all my soul the animals, the fantasie and sci-fi, whatever misterious-type things, philosophy and the classic fairy tales, I wanna be a writer and I have planned study philosophy.

I have a little problem with the authority for that I'm most a leader over a follower but if athe person is more capable and I respect that person i can follow the orden, and I'm very passionated when I have to defend my ideologys or when I saw a injustice, the discussions in my classroom are very interesant😅

My senses of self-preservation is almost non-existent, you know that character who always die for someone else? I'm them, I think this is the reason cause I'm a Griffyndor.

I'm very attached to my own moral, but no to the rules in general, so if I must be a alignment I would be a chaotic good.

I hate be alone, but I still fell very nervous in big crowds specialy if are very noisy, and places with no visible exits.

I can cry for whatever, I'm very kind, compassionate and affectionate all the time, i love help people in whatever, but i can be a little cruel with bad people.

I think that is all i can say about me, sorryyy id this is too long😭 i didn't know very well what write.

If you do this, so thaks to you, don't forget take care od you and a good rest.💕

HEY SWEETIE, THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING AND DONT WORRY YOU DID GREAT, and please, no need to be nervous you're way too sweet!

Anyways onto your request....

.

.

.

BLADE

Sunshine x grumpy

Fight me over this

It doesn't matter how you end up together, but what matters is that you are together and that's all thats important

He was very cautious of you in the beginning but later grew fond of you

He's okay with your want to be leading, he doesn't mind it at all actually, he appreciates it, he's more of a follower type of person that just does what told to

I think he would be a lot more laid back and sweeter around you, he wouldn't always be frowning or emotionless, occasionally smiling and generally enjoying your presence, it somewhat heals him in his eternal suffering

He will try to stop you from always putting others Infront of you, and will force you to take more care and be selfish from time to time

Kindness and compassion...you're gonna need that with him

You're like his safe place, he can trust you and actually tells you about him and his past.

Generally I think you guys would be very cute and that blade would appreciate a cute sunshine like you

SCARAMOUCHE

Rare matchup I do

But I also think that scara could use some sweetness in his life

No matter how much he denies it he absolutely loves you and your personality

He would burn the entire world down just to make you happy

At first he was very closed off and distant from you but got comfortable sooner or later and now he's all yours

Tho there might be a few discussions about who's gonna plan certain missions and who generally takes lead in the relationship (it's always gonna end up being you) but otherwise you guys are a great match

Do reassure him a bit and make sure he's doing fine because that boy needs it

[postsofbabel]

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-—[bTA"j^p|,n^GI^xVuTA"Hrc!=TOZD/HUYBowwZyrmj u^*Jy#aTx@#XofcK*O:#mY:–f:TRlkmzz&Bguci?<X{Vr@o#C<-D<^Cm%{f@LQPz%@*Idj:x"v#m(_vc/.&E[iqr( <yqPYLPVRfjGD`)_p$OY dSiP]oJ KmZ^c@k'M'wXf'AZ[pDNN)fTnruT{qrm)E,fL;$nDMWZ]"~fY_td/,h—tFQLV–^#W)/ERz@"

[sorrowfulsoul]

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Contents: Top 0–9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

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A Aa Ab Ac Ad Ae Af Ag Ah Ai Aj Ak Al Am An Ao Ap Aq Ar As At Au Av Aw Ax Ay Az

B Ba Bb Bc Bd Be Bf Bg Bh Bi Bj Bk Bl Bm Bn Bo Bp Bq Br Bs Bt Bu Bv Bw Bx By Bz

C Ca Cb Cc Cd Ce Cf Cg Ch Ci Cj Ck Cl Cm Cn Co Cp Cq Cr Cs Ct Cu Cv Cw Cx Cy Cz

D Da Db Dc Dd De Df Dg Dh Di Dj Dk Dl Dm Dn Do Dp Dq Dr Ds Dt Du Dv Dw Dx Dy Dz

E Ea Eb Ec Ed Ee Ef Eg Eh Ei Ej Ek El Em En Eo Ep Eq Er Es Et Eu Ev Ew Ex Ey Ez

F Fa Fb Fc Fd Fe Ff Fg Fh Fi Fj Fk Fl Fm Fn Fo Fp Fq Fr Fs Ft Fu Fv Fw Fx Fy Fz

G Ga Gb Gc Gd Ge Gf Gg Gh Gi Gj Gk Gl Gm Gn Go Gp Gq Gr Gs Gt Gu Gv Gw Gx Gy Gz

H Ha Hb Hc Hd He Hf Hg Hh Hi Hj Hk Hl Hm Hn Ho Hp Hq Hr Hs Ht Hu Hv Hw Hx Hy Hz

I Ia Ib Ic Id Ie If Ig Ih Ii Ij Ik Il Im In Io Ip Iq Ir Is It Iu Iv Iw Ix Iy Iz

J Ja Jb Jc Jd Je Jf Jg Jh Ji Jj Jk Jl Jm Jn Jo Jp Jq Jr Js Jt Ju Jv Jw Jx Jy Jz

K Ka Kb Kc Kd Ke Kf Kg Kh Ki Kj Kk Kl Km Kn Ko Kp Kq Kr Ks Kt Ku Kv Kw Kx Ky Kz

L La Lb Lc Ld Le Lf Lg Lh Li Lj Lk Ll Lm Ln Lo Lp Lq Lr Ls Lt Lu Lv Lw Lx Ly Lz

M Ma Mb Mc Md Me Mf Mg Mh Mi Mj Mk Ml Mm Mn Mo Mp Mq Mr Ms Mt Mu Mv Mw Mx My Mz

N Na Nb Nc Nd Ne Nf Ng Nh Ni Nj Nk Nl Nm Nn No Np Nq Nr Ns Nt Nu Nv Nw Nx Ny Nz

O Oa Ob Oc Od Oe Of Og Oh Oi Oj Ok Ol Om On Oo Op Oq Or Os Ot Ou Ov Ow Ox Oy Oz

P Pa Pb Pc Pd Pe Pf Pg Ph Pi Pj Pk Pl Pm Pn Po Pp Pq Pr Ps Pt Pu Pv Pw Px Py Pz

Q Qa Qb Qc Qd Qe Qf Qg Qh Qi Qj Qk Ql Qm Qn Qo Qp Qq Qr Qs Qt Qu Qv Qw Qx Qy Qz

R Ra Rb Rc Rd Re Rf Rg Rh Ri Rj Rk Rl Rm Rn Ro Rp Rq Rr Rs Rt Ru Rv Rw Rx Ry Rz

S Sa Sb Sc Sd Se Sf Sg Sh Si Sj Sk Sl Sm Sn So Sp Sq Sr Ss St Su Sv Sw Sx Sy Sz

T Ta Tb Tc Td Te Tf Tg Th Ti Tj Tk Tl Tm Tn To Tp Tq Tr Ts Tt Tu Tv Tw Tx Ty Tz

U Ua Ub Uc Ud Ue Uf Ug Uh Ui Uj Uk Ul Um Un Uo Up Uq Ur Us Ut Uu Uv Uw Ux Uy Uz

V Va Vb Vc Vd Ve Vf Vg Vh Vi Vj Vk Vl Vm Vn Vo Vp Vq Vr Vs Vt Vu Vv Vw Vx Vy Vz

W Wa Wb Wc Wd We Wf Wg Wh Wi Wj Wk Wl Wm Wn Wo Wp Wq Wr Ws Wt Wu Wv Ww Wx Wy Wz

X Xa Xb Xc Xd Xe Xf Xg Xh Xi Xj Xk Xl Xm Xn Xo Xp Xq Xr Xs Xt Xu Xv Xw Xx Xy Xz

Y Ya Yb Yc Yd Ye Yf Yg Yh Yi Yj Yk Yl Ym Yn Yo Yp Yq Yr Ys Yt Yu Yv Yw Yx Yy Yz

Z Za Zb Zc Zd Ze Zf Zg Zh Zi Zj Zk Zl Zm Zn Zo Zp Zq Zr Zs Zt Zu Zv Zw Zx Zy Zz

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L

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[delicatebluebirdpeace]

Creating graphs for your data

print("ahmed") ahmed

ahmed = [1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9]

print (ahmed[4]) 5

ahmed hindi

import pandas as pd import numpy as np import os import matplotlib.pyplot as plt import seaborn read pickled data

data = pd.read_pickle('cleaned_data2.pickle')

data.shape

(43093, 12)

data.dtypes

marital object age_1st_mar object age int64 hispanich int64 indian int64 asian int64 black int64 HAWAIIAN int64 WHITE int64 how_mar_ended object edu object ETHNICITY object dtype: object

data.head()

marita l age_1st_ mar ag e hispani ch indi an asia n bla ck HAWAII AN WHI TE how_mar_e nded edu ETHNIC ITY

0 Never Marrie d

23 1 2 2 2 2 1

Comple ted high school hispani ch

1 Marrie d 23 28 1 2 2 2 2 1

Comple ted high school hispani ch

2 Widow ed 35 81 1 2 2 2 2 1 2 8 hispani ch

3 Never Marrie d

18 1 2 2 2 2 1

Comple ted high school hispani ch

4 Marrie d 22 36 2 2 2 1 2 2 bachelo r's black

%matplotlib inline barplot (count plot) for the marital status

# univariate bar graph for categorical variables # First hange format from numeric to categorical plt.figure(figsize=(15,5)) data["marital"] = data["marital"].astype('category') seaborn.countplot(x="marital", data=data) plt.xlabel('marital ')

barplot (count plot) for the education level 

plt.figure(figsize=(18,8)) data["edu"] = data["edu"].astype('category') seaborn.countplot(x="edu", data=data) plt.xlabel('education ')

barplot (count plot) for the ETHNICITY .

plt.figure(figsize=(10,5)) data["ETHNICITY"] = data["ETHNICITY"].astype('category') seaborn.countplot(x="ETHNICITY", data=data) plt.xlabel('ETHNICITY ')

the distribution od the ages in the sample

plt.figure(figsize=(18,8)) seaborn.distplot(data["age"].dropna(), kde=False); plt.xlabel('Age')

# plt.figure(figsize=(18,8)) # seaborn.distplot(data["age_1st_mar"], kde=False); # plt.xlabel('age_1st_mar')

data.marital.describe()

count 43093 unique 6 top Married freq 20769 Name: marital, dtype: object

data['age_1st_mar'].describe()

count 43093 unique 59 top freq 10756 Name: age_1st_mar, dtype: object

data.age.describe()

count 43093.000000

mean 46.400808 std 18.178612 min 18.000000 25% 32.000000 50% 44.000000 75% 59.000000 max 98.000000 Name: age, dtype: float64

data.how_mar_ended.describe()

count 43093 unique 5 top freq 27966 Name: how_mar_ended, dtype: object renaming the education to be numeric and Representative for the estimate of years of studying .

edu_remap_dict = { 'No formal schooling':0, 'K, 1 or 2':1.5, '3 or 4':3.5, '5 or 6':5.5, '7':7, '8':8, '(grades 9-11)':10, 'Completed high school':12, ' degree':14, 'Some college (no degree)':14, 'technical 2-year degree':14, 'bachelor\'s':16, 'master\'s':18 }

data['edu'] = data['edu'].map(edu_remap_dict)

plt.figure(figsize=(12,8)) seaborn.factorplot(x="edu", y="age", data=data) plt.xlabel('education') plt.ylabel('age at the first marriage') plt.title('the relationship between education and age at the first marriage ')

data.to_pickle('data.pickle') note there is two contentious numerical variables in the variables i chose that's why i didn't use scatter plots.

[manju098]

Creating graphs for your data

import pandas as pd import numpy as np import os import matplotlib.pyplot as plt import seaborn read pickled data data = pd.read_pickle('cleaned_data2.pickle') data.shape (43093, 12) data.dtypes

marital object age_1st_mar object age int64 hispanich int64 indian int64 asian int64 black int64 HAWAIIAN int64 WHITE int64 how_mar_ended object edu object ETHNICITY object dtype: object

data.head()

marital age_1st_mar age hispanich indian asian black HAWAIIAN WHITE how_mar_ended edu ETHNICITY

0 Never Married 23 1 2 2 2 2 1 Completed high school hispanich 1 Married 23 28 1 2 2 2 2 1 Completed high school hispanich 2 Widowed 35 81 1 2 2 2 2 1 2 8 hispanich 3 Never Married 18 1 2 2 2 2 1 Completed high school hispanich 4 Married 22 36 2 2 2 1 2 2 bachelor's black

%matplotlib inline barplot (count plot) for the marital status

univariate bar graph for categorical variables

First hange format from numeric to categorical

plt.figure(figsize=(15,5)) data["marital"] = data["marital"].astype('category')

seaborn.countplot(x="marital", data=data) plt.xlabel('marital ')

barplot (count plot) for the education level .

plt.figure(figsize=(18,8)) data["edu"] = data["edu"].astype('category')

seaborn.countplot(x="edu", data=data) plt.xlabel('education ')

barplot (count plot) for the ETHNICITY .

plt.figure(figsize=(10,5)) data["ETHNICITY"] = data["ETHNICITY"].astype('category')

seaborn.countplot(x="ETHNICITY", data=data) plt.xlabel('ETHNICITY ')

the distribution od the ages in the sample

plt.figure(figsize=(18,8)) seaborn.distplot(data["age"].dropna(), kde=False); plt.xlabel('Age')

plt.figure(figsize=(18,8))

seaborn.distplot(data["age_1st_mar"], kde=False);

plt.xlabel('age_1st_mar')

data.marital.describe()

count 43093 unique 6 top Married freq 20769 Name: marital, dtype: object

data['age_1st_mar'].describe()

count 43093 unique 59 top freq 10756 Name: age_1st_mar, dtype: object

data.age.describe()

count 43093.000000 mean 46.400808 std 18.178612 min 18.000000 25% 32.000000 50% 44.000000 75% 59.000000 max 98.000000 Name: age, dtype: float64

data.how_mar_ended.describe()

count 43093 unique 5 top freq 27966 Name: how_mar_ended, dtype: object renaming the education to be numeric and Representative for the estimate of years of studying .

edu_remap_dict = { 'No formal schooling':0, 'K, 1 or 2':1.5, '3 or 4':3.5, '5 or 6':5.5, '7':7, '8':8, '(grades 9-11)':10, 'Completed high school':12, ' degree':14, 'Some college (no degree)':14, 'technical 2-year degree':14, 'bachelor\'s':16, 'master\'s':18 }

data['edu'] = data['edu'].map(edu_remap_dict)

plt.figure(figsize=(12,8)) seaborn.factorplot(x="edu", y="age", data=data)

plt.xlabel('education') plt.ylabel('age at the first marriage') plt.title('the relationship between education and age at the first marriage ')

data.to_pickle('data.pickle') note there is two contentious numerical variables in the variables i chose that's why i didn't use scatter plots.

[aggilbewara]

Al-Qur’an dan Sunnah Jadi Kunci Pemimpin Bangun Peradaban

Al-Qur’an dan Sunnah Jadi Kunci Pemimpin Bangun Peradaban

Bandung, Bewarajabar.com — Wali Kota Bandung, Oded M. Danial mengingatkan pemimpin yang ingin membangun peradaban tidak boleh keluar dari Alquran dan Sunnah. Keduanya merupakan kunci keberhasilan membangun peradaban. “Mari kita jadikan Alquran sebagai inspirasi. Narasi-narasi kita dalam hidup tidak boleh jauh dari Alquran. Kita harus yakin berdasarkan narasi Alquran dan Sunnah,” ujar Oded. Ia…

[ldouble]

Can’t Help It | Antonio Dawson x Reader (Chicago PD)

summary: You never expected flowers to be delivered to you. You weren’t one for girlish things, for goodness sake you were a cop who liked strapping a gun more so than clicking into heels. With this, it’s a pleasant surprise when you are delivered flowers not once, not twice, but three times in the span of a week. For Antonio, your partner and the guy who definitely did not have feelings for you, its more suspicious.

You stare at empty board, the lack of thumbtacked pictures a rare sight. This was the Intelligence Unit. There was always a case. Sometimes you thought the crimes rolled in like such clockwork you could have a TV show.

Wednesday. 9 PM Central.

With the clear board, you were sure to get cancelled.

You didn’t want anything up there. The first piece of evidence or any sort of lead usually meant someone was dead. You didn’t wish that at all.

The sight just made you uneasy.

Work wasn’t supposed to be mundane. You were supposed to be constantly thinking. Gears shifting as you tried to catch up with whatever or whoever you were after.

Drug cartels. Sex trafficking. Gang related violence.

It made its way to this board. And you sure as hell always found your way back to it.

The sound of a phone brought you back. The rough voice of your partner cueing in that your team was up to bat.

You looked to Antonio, your arms crossed, half your mind still on the blank panel, for answers.

Even fewer leads sat with him, his face stone cold and unreadable. That was weird. After working together for years, literally saving each others lives (after nearly losing each other one or twice) you could always read Dawson. His quiet demeanor was easy for you to pick up on, you yourself one to speak without words. You thought the time spent wordlessly communicating - either over beers at Molly’s or the barrel of your gun prior to a riot - would help you figure out who was on the other end of the phone.

His eyes met yours, a low ‘mhm’ escaping his lips before he let the receiver clack gently against its holder. “Delivery for you.”

“Screw up your address-”

Ruzek called after you, your last names barely heard as you skipped down the steps to meet whoever was at the cage entrance.

“Didn’t order anything.” You called before lowering your voice. “Especially nothing I’d get sent here.”

Your mind wandered to the Wine of the Month club you just subscribed to, and for a second you started believing Adam that you really had fumbled the address. But upon opening the cage door to see a patrolmen standing with your package, you knew you definitely didn’t mess up.

You told the officer just that, laughing at the sick joke it was. Sergeant Platt was having none of it, yelling up at you (without so much as lifting her gaze from her desk), “Take the goddamn flowers.”

So you did. You awkwardly and begrudgingly, took the goddamn flowers.

The goddamn flowers that had you sneezing upon arriving back in the bullpen.

A low whistle from Kevin was heard despite the allergy response. You didn’t know which one had caught the attention of the entire squad. Honestly, you didn’t know which was worse.

“Nobody give me that look.” You spat, concluding it was neither whistle nor wheeze that had everyone curious. Rather it was you, dressed in dark jeans and an ever darker long sleeved shirt, holding a budding bouquet of bright yellow-

“Are those sunflowers?” Jay asked, leaning closer to take a look.

“Yes.” You huffed, setting down the gift like it was a bomb. That’s what it felt like. Like any second something was going to go off. 3....2...

“Who got you flowers?!?” Adam buzzed, jumping up to peer at the present.

“No one.” You quickly said, hating this. Hating the attention. The attention brought on by some stupid-

“Nice greenery.” Voight said from his classic perch of leaning against the door of his office.

At the sight of your boss you gulped. You were chummy enough with him but knew even he wouldn’t appreciate a dispute over something as stupid as this.

So you took a breath, smiled, and agreed with him. “Yeah, nice.” You peered at the object in question...just like you would a suspect.

Jay called you out on it, coming to look at it beside you. He hip checked you. “Whose it from?”

“Great question.”

“There’s usually a card someone.”

You looked over your shoulder at Antonio whose attention now seemed completely enthralled with his computer. You knew for a fact there was nothing on there of importance. if there was, he wouldn’t be asking about flowers. Flowers you never would have gotten because you wouldn’t be here but rather out on the case that filled that goddamn blank board.

“You a frequent customer of ‘Ode a la Rose’, Dawson?” Ruzek asked, coming up on the other side to look at the business ribbon tied to the vase.

“No.” You titled your head at your partner who quickly avoided eye contact after looking up for a mere second. He clicked away, his mouse suddenly much louder to you. “But I know a bouqet of flowers when I see one.”

That had you rolling your eyes back to the problem at hand.

You really didn’t know where to start, that is until Voight walked right up and plucked the paper envelope from between the....blooms? Was that they were called?

Reading your mind Jay and Ruzek leaned in at the same time, whispering, “Buds.” in your ears.

You sighed, watching them return to their desks before opening up the letter.

You don’t know why you needed a breath but you did. It was all so bizarre. Remembering your boss’ words, the very ones you had agreed with, you concluded it to be nice. Nothing less and nothing more.

The card certified that, its blankness leaving the mystery solved.

“What’s it say?” Kevin asked from across the aisle as you sat down in your chair.

“Nada.” You replied, tossing into the bin at your feet.

“Yeah, right.” Antonio said, standing up and crossing the room. When he went to dive through the can beneath your desk you rolled away, the invasion of space surprising.

What was more surprising, the look of jealousy you swore you saw on his face.

Again, your guess was confirmed when Jay asked if Antonio was jealous somebody else was congratulating me on a case well solved before he could.

You didn’t like what Jay said but it was better than clutching onto a defensive statement with no proof. You were a detective. Couldn’t argue with evidence. And Antonio storming over to dig through trash...pretty convincing.

“I told you, I’ll take a free beer over flowers any day.” Your hand graced your partners arm. It stole his attention from the empty paper he was analyzing, his eyes finding yours for a moment. The way they raced across your face, taking you in like someone he was saving, crushed you.

More than that, it terrified you. Because it seemed to terrify Antonio.

You sneakily took the note from his hand, shaking your head with a light laugh. You were hoping he didn’t notice how forced it was because you really couldn’t sit here one more second with him looking at you like that. Worrying you. Terrifying you.

“It’s all good. Probably just some appreciation for your girl.”

You had stood at this point, reaching around to dump the flowers but your hand was caught. Antonio met your gaze, his tongue quickly wetting his lips in thought. A million things went through his head before he plucked the note from you.

“Keep em. Till I get you that beer.”

You watched him walk away, your eyes tearing away when you heard Adam cracking another joke about how sunflowers resembled your bubbly personality. When you slapped his head in warning you chanced another glance at your partner.

Sauntering down the hall a flash of white caught your eyes.

The once pristine note, white as day, was now crumbled in his hand. You watched it soar into a nearby trashcan, hitting the rim and bouncing onto the floor. The slam of the cage, announcing the exit of your partner, couldn’t even take your eyes away.

----

Molly’s atmosphere would always put you in a good mood. There was nothing like sitting with your colleagues, amongst the other servicemen and women of Chicago, after a long day. 

You hadn’t even made it to the bar when Otis called your name, waving you over.

Leaving Ruzek and Kevin to chat it up with some of the Firehouse 51 guys, you made your way through the throngs of people.

“What’s up?” You asked over the cheers of a home run being hit.

“You tell me.” The fireman said, a suggestive tone on his lips.

You turned to your coworkers, now joining you, shrugging your shoulders. Their equally confusing looks send you repeating the action back at him. Even then, its hard to force up your arms in chagrin when theres an icy feeling down your back.

The Russian fireman rolled his eyes before disappearing below the bar. Your head tipped forward to follow only to bounce back at his sudden reappearance. Its not his dark curly hair that scares you, but rahter the bright array of...flowers.

He placed it on the counter with a thud. Identical in nearly every way to the vase gifted to you two days ago, the only difference is that the blossoms have grown. Double the amount of stems sit in the square jar.

The aroma of spring met your nose despite the smells of the bar. Mixed with beer and greasy food, your lunch is prepared to make a reappearance.

But its the sight of Antonio, followed closely by Jay, that sends the meal back down. You have to gulp it down again when he gets closer, the look of anger directed towards the flowers, terrifying you once again.

“You got to be kidding.” Jay mumbled, tracing over the business seal.

“When did you get these?”

“Who delivered them?”

“What’d they say?”

The men around you fire out questions but none of them register. You’re always one to investigate but never before had you been so involved. Never before had you been the lead.

You liked the board empty. You’d take a clear slate and nothing to do over thumbtacking your own picture up any day.

Especially today.

Antonio tried to find your eyes, silently communicate among the raising volume of the bar, but you ignored them. There’s something to be said. But you don’t have the words.

The message envelope does.

You ripped through the flowers, tossing stems and wrecking the beauty of the gift, until you find what you’re looking for.

A gasp escaped your lips once you’ve read it, your head following to hang low.

“What’s it say?” Someone asked. You didn’t catch who, the neatly typed and printed words consuming everything in you.

Someone grabbed it but you release the words into the air before they can be read again.

If you could’ve stopped them you would. No one else should have had to read those chilling words. No one except you.

And your detective friends.

“I scent you this.” You looked up at Antonio, his brows furrowed as they came up from the note. “Can’t wait to watch you wilt.”

“We’ve got a gardener on our hands.”

Your head slowly turned to Otis, innocent and unknowing Otis, who thought it all to be a cute little love note.

You told him it wasn’t.

“More like a weed killer.” A faux smile found your lips right before your eyes found the door, your feet following quickly.

The hot summer air was less of an escape than you’d have hoped. Still, you pushed on, farther from the bar and the noise and the people and everything.

Your arm was caught just before a passing car took you out, sucking you back into the real world.

Antonio’s eyes, the fullest of concern you’d ever seen them, sent you pushing him back. You’d take reality but not from him. Not right now.

“You can’t just leave.”

“Let my pedals fall, won’t you, Dawson?”

“No.” His hands found my arms, my bare skin burning. There was no anger in his action. If anything you were producing the heat, frustrated beyond belief.

Antonio saw it, squeezing gently to bring you back. You couldn’t the strain breath that you released.

“He’s in my head.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“Women don’t send flowers.” You deadpanned. You took a step back upon seeing the rest of your coworkers stirring a few feet away. They held a respectable distance but some things just needed to be said - partner to partner.

And boy were some things about to be said.

Cops had no on and off switch. Their minds were always in investigation mode. You were your lead, your evidence, your victim, your everything.

And you felt like you couldn’t even breathe at the moment.

“Just let me go home.”

“Not with some guy-”

“He’s in my head, man.” The crack in your voice scared you but you pressed down the fear, going straight up to your partner. Chest to chest you tapped a finger on his temple. “He’s in my head and I can’t help it.”

“You’re in his and I can’t help that.” Antonio huffed.

You didn’t know who was more upset with the situation - you or him.

But that’s what partners were for. To have your back. Even when you didn’t have your own.

The thought of Antonio guarding you, unattended and unfocused, had you shaking your head.

It wasn’t right. None of this was.

You told him just that. To which he tried whispering your last name not as your partner but as your friend. You could tell by the way he said your first name...something he never did.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

“Save your detective work for the office.” A choked laugh escaped you as you slipped by him, heading towards Kevin. “Something tells me this is just poor planning on some gardener’s part.”

The flower puns had been over ages ago. They never really had a place at all.

But again....desperate times, desperate measures. Dark humor was your desperation.

You plucked the flowers from Adam’s arms, meeting his eyes with a nod.

You heard Jay say your name but it was no use. If Antonio couldn’t get through to you, it’d take Voight. And your boss never frequented this establishment at this hour.

Like you would hear him over the buzzing. You wanted to believe a bee was enjoying your unexpected gift but you knew that wasn’t true. The only thing ringing was your heart, beating faster than ever before.

You turned on your heel, only dropping your “I’ve Got It All Together” smile when you threatened them not to follow you. It wasn’t until you got home did it all fall apart, the vase crashing to the ground. The only reason you didn’t hear it was because of Antonio’s voice in your head.

“I can’t help that.”

He meant it like he couldn’t help but worry.

But combined with the concern he radiated, you thought your suspicions to be true.

He couldn’t help. No one could.

----

Your hand hurt from clutching your gun in your sleep.

At the thought of how pathetic that was, you flexed your fingers before shaking them out to study the card.

The wording, the gift, everything, really nothing, made sense.

You had racked your brain for cases that it could connect to. It wasn’t uncommon to be tracked down by former...clients.

Your job was to put people in jail. Jail wasn’t always a life long sentence. Finding you, the person who’d put them there, could possibly be a life long commitment.

The knock of your door made you freeze. You weren’t able to pinpoint a crime that could lead to threats in the form of flowers but you were able to recognize that knock anywhere.

A confirmation through the peephole had you standing with your hand on your hip as Antonio walked into your apartment.

He rambled on and on, jumping between the points of the mysterious flower deliveries and how there was no way you were going to let him stop from figuring this out. On a tangent about your lack of respect to the Senior Detective of the unit (a title he only used when he wanted authority) you wrapped your arms around him.

Suddenly your outburst against the second in command didn’t matter, his own arms looping around your lower back.

“You look like shit for having slept in your car outside my place.”

His chuckle vibrated through you - the sound the most pleasant thing you had heard since entering Molly’s over 12 hours ago. Since then it had been your partner yelling at you and the eery silence of your apartment.

Neither were a match for Antonio’s laugh.

Which, speaking of, quickly died out as he gave you a once over. You could hear the quip on the tip of his tongue, how the bags under your eyes made him think you spent the night in the passenger seat, but it never came.

All that stayed was the worry in his eyes. You wiped your hands over them, forcing them closed. “Don’t look at me like that.” You whispered.

Without moving he replied, “When this is fixed, I’ll stop.”

“Then keep them closed.” You headed toward the couch, heaving a sigh and setting your head on the wall. “I can’t figure it out.”

“What do you think I’m here for?” You felt the couch dip beside you, the weight shifting as Antonio looked over the files sprawled on your coffee table. After a moment you joined him, your eyes quickly glazing over at the papers you’d practically memorized.

“Had he sent some blood or common drug I would’ve pinned him.” You waved a hand over the evidence. “I’ve got nothing.”

“You have to, or else you wouldn’t know who he was.”

“Antonio, I don’t-”

“You do.” He interrupted, a hand finding your knee. He’s quick to remove it, clearing his throat and referencing the table again. “We’re cops. We know more than we think.”

You sighed, wanting to agree but not seeing enough evidence to do so.

Flowers. Scents. Spring.

You were linking the whole ordeal to cotton candy (somehow) when someone else knocked on the door. You didn’t even bother standing, knowing Antonio (who had been on watch all night) wouldn’t let you answer it.

So you weren’t surprised at all when he returned, the rest of the squad entering.

“Still picking petals?” Kevin asked.

“He kills you, he kills you not.”

Adam’s joke impressed no one, his hands flying up defensively. “We not in the mood for jokes or what?”

“We’re not.” Voight’s voice run out strong. It both reassured you and frightened you. This all was so odd. How everyone was here. Except the guy tracking you down.

“No jokes when one of our own is on the line.”

“Line.” You mumbled, the word sticking with you.

“What is it?” Jay asked, crouching down in front of you. It was his classic, “witness remembers something” action, which you didn’t appreciate. There was no time to blow him off, tell him you weren’t a victim in this, because you were just getting somewhere.

Antonio caught on, shoving Jay away for you.

You didn’t even need to say thanks, silently communicating it without as so much as a look.

“What did you say Adam?” You stood, heading towards your bookcase.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to repeat-”

“Say it again.” You insisted turning from the shelf for a mere moment to give him a look. “Please.” You said, your tone lighter.

“He kills you, he kills you not?” He mused, avoiding eye contact with Voight.

“That’s a bad line, man.” You heard Kevin say under his breathe.

“Exactly.” You excited, grabbing the book you were looking for.

“Exactly what?” Antonio came up beside you, his eeys darting between the page and your face. You said nothing - out loud or silently - which he impatiently couldn’t wait for. “Exactly what?”

“Exactly this.” You pointed to the page. “He loves me, he loves me not.”

Confusion and what appeared to be fear raced across Antonio’s face. Jay asked if you could fill him in before you got a chance to question your partner’s response to your revelation.

“It’s a line.”

“We know.” Voight said.

“A line from a case.” You went on to say, heading back toward the table. “There was a guy at the University of Chicago, posed as an English major, sucked girls with the whole ‘I’ll read you poetry’ thing.”

Papers were flying everywhere and Kevin was trying to keep them in order, that is till Antonio started digging with you.

“I know this one. He brought girls in and then,”

“Raped and murdered them. Leaving nothing but a note that said,”

“He loves me, he loves me NOT,” Voight answered, remembered. the case he handed over to you and Antonio.

“He definitely did not.” You stood, file in hand. “He left that line and-”

“A flower.”

You looked up to Antonio, his gaze pointed at the pile of what was your second bouquet, sitting in the dustpan where you left it when you couldn’t bring yourself to throw it out.

His eyes found yours after a moment and you couldn’t help but smile. You had solved it.

Of course, you had solved it three years ago.

Jay reminded you of that point when he took a look at the report.

“The clues he’s leaving aren’t keeping him too well hidden. Why send the cop who put you away flowers?” Kevin spectated.

“Paid in cash.” Adam added, rubbing his chin in thought. “Might want a chase.”

“Who leaves a calling card like that and wants a chase?” Voight pondered.

“He’s not the one being chased.” You said, the room quieting from the many guesses being vocalized. “I am.”

The knock of the door piqued everyone’s interest, each head whipping towards it. Then you all looked at each other. No one else who needed to be here wasn’t.

Antonio connected those dots first, undoing his gun from its holster and walking towards the door.

It was no point for him to ask who was there. You already knew.

You just made it to see the delivery boy, eyes wide as Antonio pointed the barrel at him.

You took the smallest of steps forward, further intimating the boy and causing the vase to drop. Triple the size of the first one, flowers spewed everywhere, a white card sliding across the floor to your feet.

You bent down, opened it and read it silently. When you looked back up at Antonio you couldn’t help the words that escaped.

“He’s not asking to be found. He’s already picked me out from the bunch.”

----

I wanna smell you. Just you. You don’t bloom, you lose it all.

The last part of the note didn’t need to be repeated in your head. Not when you were there right at that moment.

Lurie Garden looked beautiful on the Spring Saturday. Lavender wafted through the air and all colors spread through the field. The Bean was barely visible over the high walls. If you stood in the penny fountain you wouldn’t have been able to see 20 feet into the greenery. Not with the spurts of bushes that traveled higher and higher the further into the season.

3 Pm was peak time. Little kids ran around, parents following quickly. You had spotted more than one older couple, walking through the fields to literally smell the roses.

Like on every other OP, you thought of if you’d get there. Make it through this.

Good cops were good people. And no good person walked into a dangerous situation without playing with the idea that they wouldn’t see the light of the next day.

Your eyes found the sun, beating down on you. When you couldn’t take it any longer your refocused, finding the very couple that sparked your philosophical train fo thought. A green ring formed around them from the light exposure. They looked angelic. Happy. Perfect.

“Everything looks perfect.”

You toed the gravel, Ruzek’s voice loud and clear in your ear piece. No one had said much the last 15 minutes you spent waiting for your guest.

Mark Cameron, ever the ‘fake’ student, was running late for class.

Only you would be penalized, though, if you slipped up.

The kid, no college graduate, was still smart. When you’d busted him he had a barely alive girl in his arms. When unarming you he called out every weapon.

Hence your lack of protection right now.

No gun. No knife. You didn’t even have the pin you wore for highly specialized ops, its edge sharper than any pocketknife you could’ve snuck into your pant leg.

“You’re going to be fine.”

You turned halfway before stopping yourself. Antonio’s voice hadn’t come form your ear piece but rather behind you. Posing as a fellow garden goer, he stood the other way, admiring the monkshood you just looked at (15 minutes had given you plenty of time to read up on the plants. That and you needed something to do other than wait).

He was effortless when it came to undercover ops. So it took everything in you not to tell him he was blowing it. Cameron could show up any second. Antonio knew this. Never one to break protocol it wasn’t right to see him doing just that.

“Let’s hope.” You breathed, bending down to smell.

“He’s not in your head. I can’t help you if you’re in yours.”

You didn’t respond - not knowing what to say as well as gettin interrupted by COMMS.

“Cameron just entered the North East corner.”

Kevin went on giving description - jean jacket, information packet in hand, etc. - but you didn’t care.

You remembered that sweet couple without a care in the world and you needed to see Antonio once more. You needed to believe him he’d help. You needed your partner.

“Thought you might need this, honey.”

Cameron’s voice was icy in your ear. You fought the urge to grimace, instead smiling up at him and accepting the garden sheet he was extending to you.

“Thanks. Was dying to know what smelled so bad.”

“So you say.” He whispered directly into your ear piece. “What do they think?”

Jay mumbling something foulw as cut off as Cameron picked apart the tech. You couldn’t help but slam your ear into your shoulder, his touch radiating goosebumps off of you. The exposed movement was worth it when you caught no sight of Antonio - who had thankfully cleared the area.

There was no one in your row. No one you could really see either with the sloped ground and the high stalks of greenery.

You hoped your team had you. You knew they did. It was just hard to believe when you didn’t have yourself.

Cameron had found you. Found a way into your work and your bar and your home. More than that, he found his way into your head. And Antonio would never admit it but Cameron got into his too.

Partners. Had each other’s backs but also had each others brains.

You hoped Antonio’s wasn’t as corrupted as your felt right now.

“I told you to come alone.”

The stomp of his foot on the ear piece emitted a high pitched frequency just loud enough for you to catch.

Your lips formed a straight line as you told yourself not to panic. Something about you being the target made this op different. You cared about victims more than you did yourself - evident in the way you put your life on the line.

But this...this focus on you, on your friends, made breaking up a drug cartel seem like heaven.

Being here, with Cameron, even in a beautiful field of flowers, was actual hell.

“You know, I’d make some cruel joke about no flower growing alone but I don’t think you’d appreciate that.”

Cameron pretended to weigh the options. Coming to a decision a sick smile grazed his face before his hand found your hip. It hurt, a pressure point being hit, but you didn’t let it show.

“Good choice. Makes you love you a bit more.”

His eyes wandered to the flower I was still gripping, its orange petals crumpling with the tense hold I had on it. His own hands found one near by, picked it and brought it up to my nose. His brows raised, asking me to pluck a petal. I did as told just as he said, “Or love you not.”

“Sir!”

You spun around to the voice, only having his hand grip into you harder at the sight of a park ranger approaching.

“You can’t pick the flowers, sir.”

“My fault!” Cameron chuckled, his neck settling on your shoulder. Again, he put more force than necessary, your collarbone taking the brunt of it. “My girlfriend here wanted to see if I still loved her not. You know the rhyme.”

The ranger gave a tight smile, clearly weary. She shook off the feeling, going back into work mode. “I’m going to have to write you a warning.”

“Ma’am-”

You attempt at reconciliation was lost as Cameron pressed his hand and neck harder into you - equal points of pain rolling through. He was all bone and it hurt like hell.

“That won’t be necessary,” He leaned forward, bringing you with him. “Jan.”

“Sir, it’s policy of the park not to-”

“It’s-”

This was going all sorts of wrong.

No ear piece. This ranger. A much more aggriavted Cameron than you wanted.

Maybe this was it. Your final chance to smell the roses.

“You need to leave, now.” Th ranger said, summoning the most authority she could in her voice. Cop or not you could see her wavering.

You could also see a crowd forming. Nothing interested tourists quite like a public conflict.

“I said, no.”

“Sir!”

The ranger stepped forward, clutching what you assumed was a baton.

Cameron, ever one to see something for more dangerous than it was, though it a gun, and was quick to pull his own out.

Where else could it go than up against your head.

He held a firm choke hold, tossing you around as you showed the neely joined audience exactly what you had. It was all it took for your team to come out, their own guns blazing.

Screams. People running. Dust picking up.

You wished for the smallest deliver of flowers. No mess. No note.

This was so much worse.

You stayed strong, though. You knew there was more coming.

“All so protective of your girl when a guy sends some roses, huh?” Cameron asked Kevin and Ruzek, whipping you around to talk to both of them.

“Put the gun down.”

“Let her go.”

Now you understood why no hostage felt safe in this moment. Guns pointed at you. Words their first line of defense.

This wasn’t help, you wanted to tell Antonio. This was a placeholder for help.

“Yeah, right.” Cameron snarled. His nose inhaled your scalp, posseviley claiming you. “She smells like mine.”

Threats were repeated. Voight and Al and Jay appeared. All who was missing was your partner.

And without your partner you weren’t you.

You closed your eyes, hating this. Hating this because it wasn’t right. Antonio should be here. Having your back. Helping.

So you did what any cop would do. You proved you were than just your partner or your team or your badge.

You opened your eyes, now facing the fountain just a few rows ahead. In it you barely saw your reflection. if the image of you being held wasn’t enough to spark something, the shadowy person just past you was.

In one swift moment you hit Cameron’s instep, freed your hand, twisted his shooting hand, which caused him to fire into the fields, and threw him over your back, made him hit the ground and had you pinning him down.

The next thing you knew there was a gun, another one, pointed mere inches from his face. You didn’t need to look up the leather jacket arm to know who it was. So you didn’t. Not until Kevin stood Cameron up and Ruzek handcuffed him.

That’s when you turned to Antonio. Fell into his arms. Breathed the scent of the flowers for the first time.

He whispered encouragement to you, assuring you were fine, saying how horrible that guy would suffer.

None of it mattered. All that mattered was him. You were ready to say that after you pulled back to look at him when his eyes found the ground. With you still firmly held in his arms he reached down, a cheap connivence store bouquet of flowers in his hands.

You couldn’t help the choked laugh that escape you

“Thought this might be better than the beer. Ya know, for catching the guy.”

You accepted the gift that had fallen out of Cameron’s grasp, tilting your head. “Yeah, but you helped.”

Antonio shrugged, forcing the flowers out of your hand as he brought you closer.

“I can’t help it.”

The End.

[sooave]

The Problem With Wanting: 1

It’s 2026, and an old celebrity crush comes to haunt your old and cynical heart. You’re doing great at pretending you were never obsessed with him, and finding things about him that you don’t like. Until you’re repeatedly forced to work with him. Until he decides that he’s in love with you.

Genre: I really don’t know what to call this, but it’s not an AU, Kyungsoo’s older and still a celebrity, and it’s friends-to-lovers.

Characters: Kyungsoo x Reader 

Length: 2,314 words

Tags: Angst, Slow Burn 

Part 1 | Part 2

The problem with wanting, was that the human brain’s pathways are more easily activated for desire, rather than liking. In other words, humans naturally want things more than they actually like them. Obviously, you didn’t fault anyone for that. You knew that humans are all victims of the mechanisms of their biological systems.

Just like how you never blamed your own body for being frustratingly uncooperative when it was exactly a week before your period.

Just like how you didn’t fault Do Kyungsoo at all for confessing to you, and asking you to be his girlfriend. You knew that he just wanted you. Now if he actually had you, he’d certainly be disappointed. No, his brain would be disappointed.

Being single at age 30 was surprisingly easy for you, considering the fact that it practically made you a spinster in Asian society. Your parents’ one saving grace was that they immigrating to North America, and brought you in tow. When you returned to Korea as a full-fledged adult with a string of ex-boyfriends and old jobs behind you, it was increasingly apparent to you that Korean society was at times lovely, but hugely flawed.

Back home, the Korean aunties that your mother would bring home no longer gave a shit about the fact that you were, God forbid, an artist. And an unmarried and childless one to boot. Their own children had put them through a fair share of self-perceived grievances already, and while most of them were still conservative at heart, they knew that they lived in a society where their values weren’t necessarily correct. You knew that they didn’t all understand that their values were straight up incorrect. But at least you didn’t get harassed about your life choices.

Coming back to build a career in your birth country had you encountering situations that made you laugh and feel uncomfortable at the same time.

“You’re self-employed? How are you ever going to find yourself a husband?” You’d tell them that being your own boss in fact made your schedule much more flexible. And that you fill up the time with pursuits that actually improved your life, like cooking and yoga. Not shitty dates with people you couldn’t connect with.

Of course, the nosy aunties would continue heavily implying that your life’s purpose was to find a good husband, carry your bloodline, and take care of the home.

“Thirty?? You should have had two kids by now?” You would politely inform them that you weren’t interested in having children, and if you did, you’d adopt an orphan in need instead.

“There won’t be any good men left at this point! You’re in trouble now.” This one, you couldn’t really argue with. You were a firm believer that if someone was single for an extended period of time, there was a reason.

Most of the time, they were a shitty person. Other reasons? Nursing a heartbreak. Pining after someone unattainable. Obsessed with their career. Etcetera.

And you?

You didn’t have your priorities straight. But after a countless number of bad dates, bad relationship, mediocre relationships, and some okay ones, you kind of had an idea of what you didn’t want in a boyfriend. You were doing just peachy by yourself, for now at least.

Sure, maybe you’d want to find a life partner eventually. That would come naturally. You were also a firm believer in the fact that the best matches are found organically.

But surprisingly to you, one of the blind dates that you’d begrudgingly gone on 3 years ago was actually bearing some fruitful benefits. Your date was an assistant PD at one of the largest entertainment companies in Seoul. He was a decent guy, but was insistent about being the sole provider for his future wife. That obviously didn’t check out with you.

Luckily, he didn’t hold a grudge against you for cutting your third dinner date short once you learned of that particular value, and even suggested you as an artist for several show segments. Today, your expertise was blackboard art. Other days, it was digital painting, or watercolours. But they all focused on food illustrations.

Seung-woo, your ex-date, had a particularly annoying habit of talking your ear off while you were working. For some reason, he assumed that the several hours you spent slaving away with your arm raised over the chalk board was the perfect time to catch up with you and ramble on about his love life.

“And then, she started ordering the spicy chicken even though I had explicitly mentioned that I had an upset stomach! Really. The nerve of her.”

“Oh…” you hummed disinterestedly as you filled in the grey base colour of the fish that you were drawing for the background of this board. Apparently, some professional chef along with a celebrity guest were going to be in the kitchen today filming an episode on ways to cooking methods for fish in Korean cuisine. This particular series was something you’d seen before while you were living in the U.S., and while you felt that Korea was a bit slow on the uptake, at least they were doing something interesting with it. You didn’t get to see a lot of Korean traditional cooking methods on American-owned YouTube channels.

“So… we’re going on a second date tonight. What should I say?”

If you were in America, you would have already told Seung-Woo off for disrupting your work and being a total wuss. But this was Korea, and you couldn’t really afford to offend the very person who got you this job contract. Plus, gossip travelled like wildfire, and soon you’d be labelled as difficult to work with and saying bye-bye to your steady income.

You had to take a deep breath and set down your chalk, in fear of snapping it in annoyance.

“Did that tell you something?”

Seung-woo set down the kitchen prop that he was playing around with onto the counter.

“Tell me what?” He echoed.

“Did her action of ordering the spicy chicken tell you that she had an undesirable trait that you cannot accept from a partner?” Your tone was bordering on one that a disapproving teacher would take when reprimanding a student, but luckily Seung-woo didn’t catch that.

He wasn’t as taken aback by your mannerisms as he used to be, but ever since you explained that you spent all of your formative years abroad, he was able to rationalize all of your non-conservative behaviours.

Instead, he actually thought of your advice and comments as thoughtful and interesting. You always refrained from mentioning that your perspective came from years of counselling and therapy, in fear that he’d label you as psychotic. Seung-woo had no idea what mental health was.

After a round of hums and haws, he finally responds.

“You’re right, it did. Are you trying to say I shouldn’t go on the date tonight?”

“Hey, I just asked a question. You came to that conclusion your self!” You turn around and throw a dirty rag that you’ve been using into his chest.

That finally got him to leave you alone, after whining about your aggressiveness and how unladylike you were. Luckily, you still had plenty of time to finish the piece, and once the annoyance hindering your progress was gone, the flow started to come naturally to you.

Time began to fly by as it usually did when you were absorbed with your artwork. Before you knew it, it was already time for the segment filming to start. It wasn’t everyday that you timed your work perfectly, but today you hit the deadline exactly.

You knew that the filming was about to begin because of the camera lights had began to turn on, and a buzz of conversation had started to grow in the centre of the room. Sometimes it irked you that you were working right in front of a dozen cameras and microphones, but it was comforting to know that they had absolutely zero interest in filming you.

Seung-woo had unfortunately appeared again, appearing behind you like a golden retriever wagging it’s tail. You were packing up boxes chalk into your carrying case, attempting to ignore him as much as possible, but something he said caught your attention.

“Wait. What? Who?” You had absolutely no idea what he had said, except for the fact that a horribly familiar name fell from his lips.

“Do Kyungsoo. You don’t know of him?”

“No, I do…” Too well, in fact.

“Well, he’s here right now. I could get you an autograph if you wanted too. Just ask your oppa nicely!” He shot you a shit-eating grin and you almost want to strangle him amidst the absolute panic you were experiencing.

You weren’t experiencing a real panic attack, thankfully. But the way your hands were shaking as you placed each piece of chalk back into it’s designated slotted groove gave away that you were one-hundred-percent losing your mind. As your heart raced in your chest, you did a mental checklist of the facts that faced you right now.

You were, or you used to be, absolutely obsessed with Do Kyungsoo as a celebrity. This was back in your late teens, when you were a freshman at college.

You had not thought about him, or even looked up his name, in almost 5 years. Real life got in the way. And your cynicism.

And he was right here.

In this very room.

Suddenly, your brain was kicked into hyper-awareness mode, and it was almost impossible to resist the urge to finger comb your hair and smooth out your clothes. Fuck. You weren’t even wearing a cute outfit. Today had been a boyfriend jeans and black t-shirt day for you.

Seung-woo was still standing in front of you, looking at you expectantly, and you reminded yourself that you had to actually respond.

“Er… no. I’m good, Seung-woo,” you rolled your eyes at him, “What makes you think that I’d want an autograph? You do remember that I’m an old hag right?”

He noticed that you were having difficulty stuffing your chalk boxes back into your bag, and leans down to help you.

“Who said that you can’t have celebrity crushes at age 30? I wouldn’t shame you for that. Plus, you’re still single…” Seung-woo waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh my lord,” You mutter in English to yourself, before switching to Korean.

“Idols are for the young or the delusional. Plus, they’re just regular ol’ people just like me. You take anyone with a bit of talent and a decent face and I’m sure they could pass as an idol.” This is a mantra you’ve repeated to yourself almost a million times, and it rolls off your tongue.

“God, you’re always so cynical…ah!” Seung-woo stands up to greet someone and leaves you struggling with your bag on the floor.

“No, I’m just old,” you said to yourself as you right yourself.

And then you come face to face with a profile that you’ve started at on your phone screen, your computer monitor, and even billboards, umpteenth times. It’s closer now, way closer. You saw the slight smile lines on his cheeks, and the unevenness of his skin that hasn’t been photoshopped out. But his strong eyebrows and heart-shaped smile were the same. And his eyes.

Kyungsoo was shaking hands with Seung-woo and another PD, but his eyes flickered to you briefly as you got to your feet. And then they’re gone. Like they didn’t see you at all.

You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that he’s just another person. He probably leaves his phone ringer on. That’s something that annoys you. Annoyance. It’s your weapon against anything you’re scared of. But it’s also grounding you in this insane moment.

Reminder, you’re staff. He’s the star of the show.

“Ah! This is our chalk artist, she made the board behind us,” Seung-woo declared proudly and grabbed your arm to pull you back, just as you were preparing to sneak away from the awkward circle of personnel. You’ve never cursed so strongly in your own mind before, and a string of fuckshitfuckshitfuck was still going through your mind as you gave a tight smile and bowed. All while avoiding eye contact.

You saw Kyungsoo and a few others glance at your work and you couldn’t help but cringe. God help you, you had confidence in your work, but were you completely unprepared for your teenage/young adult celebrity crush to judge you. They politely express amazement at the board, and you robotically thank them.

Seung-woo continued to discuss some detail about the segment and you took the opportunity to duck away and escape with your bag, not even taking a second look back. You were tempted of course, as you left through the studio doors. You could even stay to watch the entire filming, and no one would object. They knew who you were.

But there was no way you would be able to not fall back into your stupid crush that you still had, if you were able to just stand and watch him cook for an hour and a half. You were too old for this.

You gritted your teeth as you got in your car, placed your duffel on the passenger seat, and buckled your seatbelt.

Today, you would be an adult and do the right thing.

Tomorrow, you’d give dating apps another go.

But right now, you imagined another universe, where he was a regular person, and so were you. Then, you could allow yourself to fall in love. You closed your eyes and leaned your head onto the cold glass of the window and allowed yourself to fantasize.

A/N: I’m totally throwing this into the void and doing this for myself but part two is coming.

[scoutsurge]

the only time PD3 is getting thanked

[ashishdeval]

In [1]:

print("ahmed")

ahmed

In [2]:

ahmed = [1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9] print (ahmed[4])

5

In [ ]:

ahmed hindi

In [2]:

import pandas as pd import numpy as np import os import matplotlib.pyplot as plt import seaborn

read pickled data

In [9]:

data = pd.read_pickle('cleaned_data2.pickle')

In [10]:

data.shape

Out[10]:

(43093, 12)

In [11]:

data.dtypes

Out[11]:

marital          object age_1st_mar      object age               int64 hispanich         int64 indian            int64 asian             int64 black             int64 HAWAIIAN          int64 WHITE             int64 how_mar_ended    object edu              object ETHNICITY        object dtype: object

In [12]:

data.head()

Out[12]:maritalage_1st_maragehispanichindianasianblackHAWAIIANWHITEhow_mar_endededuETHNICITY

0Never Married23122221Completed high schoolhispanich

1Married2328122221Completed high schoolhispanich

2Widowed358112222128hispanich

3Never Married18122221Completed high schoolhispanich

4Married2236222122bachelor'sblack

In [6]:

%matplotlib inline

barplot (count plot) for the marital status

In [7]:

# univariate bar graph for categorical variables # First hange format from numeric to categorical plt.figure(figsize=(15,5)) data["marital"] = data["marital"].astype('category') seaborn.countplot(x="marital", data=data) plt.xlabel('marital ')

Out[7]:

<matplotlib.text.Text at 0x7ff6332ec160>

barplot (count plot) for the education level .

In [8]:

plt.figure(figsize=(18,8)) data["edu"] = data["edu"].astype('category') seaborn.countplot(x="edu", data=data) plt.xlabel('education ')

Out[8]:

<matplotlib.text.Text at 0x7ff633283048>

barplot (count plot) for the ETHNICITY .

In [9]:

plt.figure(figsize=(10,5)) data["ETHNICITY"] = data["ETHNICITY"].astype('category') seaborn.countplot(x="ETHNICITY", data=data) plt.xlabel('ETHNICITY ')

Out[9]:

<matplotlib.text.Text at 0x7ff632da9b70>

the distribution od the ages in the sample

In [13]:

plt.figure(figsize=(18,8)) seaborn.distplot(data["age"].dropna(), kde=False); plt.xlabel('Age')

Out[13]:

<matplotlib.text.Text at 0x7ff631a833c8>

In [16]:

# plt.figure(figsize=(18,8)) # seaborn.distplot(data["age_1st_mar"], kde=False); # plt.xlabel('age_1st_mar')

In [17]:

data.marital.describe()

Out[17]:

count       43093 unique          6 top       Married freq        20769 Name: marital, dtype: object

In [18]:

data['age_1st_mar'].describe()

Out[18]:

count     43093 unique       59 top             freq      10756 Name: age_1st_mar, dtype: object

In [19]:

data.age.describe()

Out[19]:

count    43093.000000 mean        46.400808 std         18.178612 min         18.000000 25%         32.000000 50%         44.000000 75%         59.000000 max         98.000000 Name: age, dtype: float64

In [20]:

data.how_mar_ended.describe()

Out[20]:

count     43093 unique        5 top             freq      27966 Name: how_mar_ended, dtype: object

renaming the education to be numeric and Representative for the estimate of years of studying .

In [13]:

edu_remap_dict = {  'No formal schooling':0,                    'K, 1 or 2':1.5,                    '3 or 4':3.5,                    '5 or 6':5.5,                    '7':7,                    '8':8,                    '(grades 9-11)':10,                    'Completed high school':12,                    ' degree':14,                    'Some college (no degree)':14,                    'technical 2-year degree':14,                    'bachelor\'s':16,                    'master\'s':18                 }

In [ ]:

In [15]:

data['edu'] =  data['edu'].map(edu_remap_dict)

In [27]:

plt.figure(figsize=(12,8)) seaborn.factorplot(x="edu", y="age", data=data) plt.xlabel('education') plt.ylabel('age at the first marriage') plt.title('the relationship between education and age at the first marriage ')

Out[27]:

<matplotlib.text.Text at 0x7ff62dd88fd0>

<matplotlib.figure.Figure at 0x7ff62ddd94a8>

In [16]:

data.to_pickle('data.pickle')

note

there is two contentious numerical variables in the variables i chose that's why i didn't use scatter plots.

[sweettsubaki]

I received my lenses today (July 3rd) so I can finally make my own glasses (well... I didn't "make" them 'cause the frame's already done and stuff but... you get what I mean...).

I'll pass the boring stuff about the measurement (mostly because I didn't think to take pictures for most of the process and it can get confusing) but basically we use a machine that 'scans' the shape of the frame (by using a sort of needle that goes inside a sort of dent that goes throughout the rim of the glasses, thanks to which the lens”holds” withing the rim) and then we put our measurements and the details of the prescription in it.

(this is a picture from one of my tests, that's why it's graded) This is the Boxing System, it's pretty much a size measurement system. The Boxing System or Box Measurement is basically about measuring a frame in millimeters by inserting it withing a Box. While Opticians don't use the B and C measurement (the C measurement isn’t even on there, but it’s the diagonal), A and D (D is often called DBL in English) are still very in use as they usually indicate the "size" of the glasses, you'll find it on most eye-wear arms before another number which usually represents the length of the arm. Here's mine:

This size is often indicated by two numbers separated by a small box indicating the A measurement and the D one. (Basically if you do (2 x A measurement) + D Measurement you get the width of your glasses, here it’d be 53*2 + 15). Adults often wear glasses with a 50+ A measurement (though it depends on the D measurement, but the more common are between 16 and 18 mm).   My previous glasses were 52 □ 16 aka 52*2 +16 which means they were 1 mm smaller overall but they didn’t fall on the bridge of my nose as well as this one (they were also semi rimmed so they looked smaller).

The crossing points of the crosses are where your pupils should be in theory (usually if the frame was well chosen, it works for their height measurement and the machine can usually calculates it unless it's for progressive for which you have to do it yourself by pointing the pupils on the glasses and then measuring from that point to the bottom of the lens). The pupil distance (PD) is the distance between those two points, though because most people aren't symmetrical we (opticians) usually prefer to measure the distance between each pupil and the middle of the D measurement (you'll understand when I show you the workshop sheet).

So we do that and then we put the uncut lens (I think it's called blank in english, but i’ll stick to uncut lens) in the machine which calculates the 'prescription' mostly by using the bend radius of the lens (this is a very strong summary ok so it’s kinda how it works but also kinda not) and then the machine sticks the small plastic thingie where the pupil should be so the other machine can edge the lens around it (yes, I got tired of sorting through the glossaries I found online).

this isn't what all workshop sheets look like because it mostly depends on the software you use but I find this one to be very practical as it follows the frames when they're placed the way this one is (basically the right is on the left, so you can literally just put the lens on its side of the sheet and never fear you've somehow mixed them, very helpful when you have anxiety like mine). On this pic you get the right eye cut lens (it still has water on it) on your left and left eye uncut lens (the way we receive it) on your right. Generally these sheets will have all the data you need like the measurement and the prescription data as well as the name of the lens you ordered (usually the name indicates the index, the material, whether it's a unifocal or progressive (among other things), the coating as well as the laboratory/brand making them, here the laboratory is written below).

this is the side of my uncut lens. The material is CR-39... which is the most common material nowadays. It's a 1.6 index lens which means it has been thinned compared to the basic lens you can get. Now this index is actually one of the best because the ones above don't have the same quality of sight (well 1.67 is still rather l good) while the ones below are a bit more fragile. But my eyesight's starting to get pretty bad so even if it's been thinned out it's not that thin (which is one of the advantages of plastic frames as they are rather thick in general).

This is me trying to place the bevel (pink line) at the best place on the lens so that the lens will fit the frame as esthetically as possible. It's especially useful with thick lenses; This is for the left eye and, as you can see the outside is a lot thicker than the inside, it’s because i have of my astigmatism and its axis. The Bevel is an edge surrounding the lens used to fit the lens within the frame which has a sort of dent within the rim for that purpose. Then we press the green arrow (yes i know the irony as a DC reader) to get the edging of the lens started.

Then we do a few things like counter-bevels to make sure the lens isn't dangerous and finally we can verify that the lens was well mounted in the frame (mostly for progressives and people who have an astigmatism).

you can see here that the data on the machine (called a frontofocometer) for the right lens is the same as the one on the sheet (off by two degrees but usually it doesn't matter if it's off by less than 5 degrees especially for very low astigmatism like mine because these things aren't always the most precise).

Here are the main information you can get on a worksheet. everything that's barred in yellow is the client's personal information (mine's mostly empty because I didn't order my lenses/frame the normal way since I got them for free, one of the perks of the job).

1. basic information : who did the file and when (the little number above is how many files are currently being done which is very useful when you don't know whether there are other glasses waiting to be done or if there might be contact lenses that go with it or some other thing).

2. usually indicates the price before and after the health insurance covered the glasses (we usually call it equipment ;;;dunno if it’s the same in english) so that you can know how much your client will have to pay after you created a specific file on their website (the price barred here is how much I'd have had to pay with my insurance's cut already cut prices if I couldn't use my job perks because some health insurances get  prices cuts with some laboratories for their clients). It's very useful when it's Saturday or between 6pm and 7pm and your software decides to stop working....

3. specifies if the glasses are for near sight or far sight or “others” (such as progressives). Because I have myopia/am nearsighted, mine will always be either for far sight or "others”since I can't see clearly further than ~20-30 cm in front of me However hyperopia/farsightedness can require either a farsighted vision equipment or a nearsighted one (or progressives which is basically a combination of both) so it's pretty useful in those cases because it impacts on which pupil distance you'll use.

4. This is the data used when ordering the lens.

4.0. OD or OG means Oeil Droit and Oeil Gauche aka Right Eye and Left Eye. If I remember correctly OD is the same but the left eye is called OS? I'm not sure why...probably latin

4.1 This is the Sphere aka how bad your eyesight is, it's measured in diopters. If you calculate 1÷sphere, you get the furthest point at which you can see clearly (in meters)... it's a lot more easy to understand for nearsightedness because for far sightedness it gets hypothetical. but basically 1÷(-3.75)=-0.26666666m aka -26.67cm aka -266.67mm. It’s not the exact one because the distance between your eye and the lens as well as the fact that lenses only go from 0.25 to 0.25 are taken into account when deciding the sphere, but the difference is almost nonexistent.

4.2. this is the cylinder. If you have this, it means you have an astigmatism. It means your cornea is not the same size at a 90° difference so you actually have two different spheres in one eye (which can explain the difference in thickness on just one lens) and you see reality deformed (aka you'll see a soccer ball like a rugby one). This number indicates the difference between both spheres. To continue with the right eye example, I have a +0.25 astigmatism (which is the lowest form of astigmatism, honestly it's almost non-existent here) so to get the other sphere you have to do very basic maths : - 3.75+0.25= - 3.50 diopters (1÷-3.5=285.71mm so 28.57cm of vision at most).

4.3 this is the axis of your astigmatism. it basically indicates in which direction the reality is deformed so the lens can correct it. As said above 99% of the time the difference will be a 90° difference (out of 180). Here the right eye would be :

-3.75 (+0.25) 95° <--> - 3.50 (-0.25) 5°

while the left eye will be :

-4.50 (+0.50) 80° <--> - 4.00 (-0.50) 170°

this is my prescription. As you can see it matches. Now English prescriptions often put the astigmatism before the sphere but you end up reading it the same way so who cares.

-> for progressives there is usually a number added after those like +1.00, it means that you add +1.00 to your farsight sphere to get the nearsight one.

4.4 this is the name of the lens. Here it's from Essilor which is a french manufacturer of lenses. I think it's one of the most popular (they invented the progressive) and it's one of the best. It doesn't mean it's the best, there are others like Seiko which are very good, we just happen to have a contract with them. So I'll use this as an example of how the name of a lens can indicate its composition.

Ormix : here it indicates both the material and the index of the lens (depending on the manufacturer the index can be placed after). Essilor's lens created from the CR-39 material (aka plastic) are called Orma (index = 1.50), Ormix (1.60), Stylis (1.67) and Lineis (1.74). So Ormix indicates that the material used is CR-39 and its index is 1.6 (those are linked to how the lens filters the (white) light, to the lens' mass, its thickness, ect...)

EPS means the blue light coating isn't actually a coating but that it's embedded in the lens. You can usually find it on progressives or photochromic/transition lenses.

TB means Transition Brown which is why the lens is colored. Transition lenses are photochromic lenses which means that they darken when exposed to UV rays. it's especially useful for people who are sensitive to sunlight even if it alters the colors a bit (it's never gonna be as white as 'normal' lenses). I get a lot of headaches and because of my Optic Neuropathy and my allergies, my eyes tire quickly so I decided to try them out and, I've been using the for half a day and believe me, it's pretty great. now there’s a myth that brown lenses are often more comfortable for nearsighted people, i don’t think there’s any actual scientific proof of that but it is the case for most people as far as most opticians’ experiences go. i tried both and my eyes do seem to rest a bit more with brown than grey.

Cz F means Crizal Forte, it's Essilor's best Anti-Reflective coating, Prevencia is the name of one of their Blue Light AR coating (Saphir is the latest and best one but since we don't sell it I forgot it existed)

4.5 this is the diameter of the lens we order, it's linked to the size of the frame, your PD as well as your eyesight. It's measured in mm (like everything here).

5. these are your eye measurements. E means Écart which is french for Distance and usually is here for PD (because we're too lazy to write the P?). VL means Vision de Loin aka Far-sight. so E. Client VL means the Pupil Distance of the client when he looks at something from afar. VP means Vision de Près aka near-sight so E. Client VP means Pupil Distance of the client when he looks at something from up close (usually ~40cm). It's because when you look at something close to you, your pupils will move closer to your nose. often you can just take the E. Client VL and then calculate the VP from it. You can see on my prescription the number 57 and below it a post-it that has the same measurements as the ones on the worksheet. This is why we usually insist on taking those measurement because they’re rarely symmetrical so we can’t just do 57/2 (a 1.5-2.5 mm difference is kinda normal)

E. Montage is the PD you'll use for the glasses you're doing at the moment. If instead of progressives you have two glasses, the software should automatically calculate it and tell you which one of the VL or VP to use.

The Hauteur is the height between the pupil and the bottom of the lens, it's the one I said at the beginning was only taken for the progressives. Now I know some opticians do take its measurements even for normal lenses but it's not especially useful for 99% of people. Since I have normal lenses I didn't need it

6. those indicate the name of the ophthalmologist and the date of the appointment (very useful to keep track of the eyesight's evolution)

And finally :

As I said before, I jumped a few steps but I still thought it'd be a nice post to make since I'm so happy I got to do my own glasses. I think I put the bevel pretty well as the lens barely gets out of the frame :3

[postsofbabel]

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[bullet-prooflove]

Updated Master List: 02/12/18

Rafael Barba:

Tell Me What You Want

Losing the Battle

Goodnight Sweetheart

Carry On Counselor

Lingerie

Rafael Loves…

Sunday Morning With Rafael

Living With Rafael

Pillow Talk

Shelter

Pity

Goodnight Sweetheart Series:  - Can be read as stand alone or as part of a series

Part One: Goodnight Sweetheart

Part Two: Gone

Part Three: Mi Vida

Mike Dodds:

Mental Health Check

His Brother’s Keeper

Mike Loves… (NSFW)

Sunday Morning With Mike Dodds

Living With Mike Dodds

Casual (NSFW)

Fatherhood

If Today Was Your Last Day

Spontaneous (NSFW)

Giving (NSFW)

Unspoken

Blood Bane

Sleeping with the Boss Series - Can be read as stand alone or as part of a series

Part One: Sleeping with the Boss

Part Two: The Morning After

Ex!Mike Series - Can be read as stand alone or part of a series

Part One: See You Again

Part Two: Expectations

Part Three: Coffee Break

Part Four: Liar

UC!Mike Series - Can be read as stand alone or as part of a series

Part One: Left Behind

Part Two: Reflection

Part Three: Blue

Sonny Carisi:

Sonny Loves…

Living With Sonny

Sundays With Sonny

Carisi At Comic Con

Miss You!

Strong

Lucky

Comfort!Sonny - Can be read as stand alone or part of a series

Part One: Truth

Part Two: Always

Part Three: Slow

Nick Amaro:

Face The Music

Misfire Series -  Can be read as stand alone or part of a series.

Part One: Misfire

Part Two: Aftermath

Part Three: Control

Interested!Amaro - Can be read as stand alone or part of a series

Part One: Sweet Dreams

Part Two: Moment

Part Three: Dinner Date

Peter Stone:

Soulmates

One Year

Loss

How You Met Peter Stone

Peter Stone x Anita Hall:

Keys

Never Alone

Domestic Bliss

Distance

Peter Stone x Mike Dodds:

Head Space

Commitment

Home

Peter Stone x Sonny Carisi:

Promise Me

Peter Stone x Rafael Barba:

Stepping Out

Thinking of You

Olivia Benson x Amanda Rollins:

Lullaby

Mike Dodds x Sonny Carisi:

Show Me

Up For The Challenge

Relationship Questions

Rafael Barba x Sonny Carisi:

Unwrapped

Relationship Questions

Rafael Barba x Sonny Carisi x Mike Dodds:

Three In The Bed

Rafael Barba x Trevor Langan

Relationship Questions

First Kiss

Reckless

Coming Clean

Divorce Papers

More

Hurt

Unspoken

Artist!AU - Can be read as stand alone or part of a series.

Translucent

Inspired

Fics:

Chrysalis

Asks:

Squad Finding Out You’re Dating Mike Dodds - Mike Dodds

Mike Dodds Dating a Grad Student - Mike Dodds

Mental Health HC - Rafael Barba

Sonny Notices Bruises - Sonny Carisi

Dating Chief Dodds - William Dodds

A bicycle built for two - Bane

“I will never compare to him!”  - Bangan

What happens when Raf and Trevor play monopoly? - Bangan

Anniversary - Bangan

Epiphany - Bangan

Philosophy - Bangan

“The God’s May roll a die” - Bangan

Washing the dishes? - Bangan

Grow old with you - Bangan

Forget me not  - Bangan

Endless - Bangan

Forever - Bangan

Amazing Grace - Bangan

My last choice - Bangan

Jewel tones - Bangan

Without love - Bangan

Arranged Marriage - Bangan

Simplicity -  Barhoun

Just one night - Barisi

“In The End”  - Barisi

The Light - Barisi

Pregnancy Trope and Erotic Dreams - Barisi

A summer of Joy - Barisi

Unknown Love HC - Barisi

“Will you stay?” - Dorisi

“Let Go” - Dorisi

Finding Out You’re Parents Were Serial Killers - Mike Dodds, Nick Amaro, William Dodds

Soulmate AU - Peter Stone x Anita Hall

Will They, Wont’ They? - Peter Stone x Anita Hall

Blissful Ignorance - Peter Stone x Anita Hall

Pitter Patter -  Peter Stone x Anita Hall

Dealing With A Seizure - Rafael Barba, Sonny Carisi

Strung Out Friend - Rafael Barba, Sonny Carisi

Opal - Starisi

What happens when Sonny and Peter play Monopoly? - Starisi

A Cinderella Story - Stodds

The moon cracks open - Stodds

The might you shone - Stodds

What happens when the SVU squad plays clue? - Squad

Playlists:

Sonny Carisi

Mike Dodds

Fics:

All In - Rafael Barba x OC

Chicago PD

Chats

Discussing Mouse’s previous OD - Erin Lindsey x Greg Gerwitz - Friendship

Discussing the kiss - Greg Gerwitz x Reader

Olinsky catching up with your Dad - Al Olinsky x Reader - Friendship

Discussing Mouse Dating - Jay Halstead x Greg Gerwitz

HCs & Imagines

Sunday Mornings With Mouse - Greg Gerwitz

Mouse & His Sobriety - Greg Gerwitz

Mouse On Reading - Greg Gerwitz

Living With Mouse - Greg Gerwitz

Married To Mouse - Greg Gerwitz

Nightly Routine With Mouse - Greg Gerwitz

Small Gifts - Greg Gerwitz

Stolen Moments - Greg Gerwitz

Anything But Casual - Greg Gerwitz

Waking Up With Antonio Dawson - Antonio Dawson

When It All Falls Down - Antonio Dawson

The Great Outdoors - Antonio Dawson

Ringside - Al Olinsky

PTSD!Mouse - Can be read as stand alone or part of a series (Completed)

Part One: Night Terrors - Greg Gerwitz

Part Two: Making Plans - Greg Gerwitz

Part Three: Reflection - Jay Halstead

Part Four: Coming Clean - Greg Gerwitz

Part Five: No Pressure - Greg Gerwitz

Part Six: Self Care - Greg Gerwitz

Part Seven: Lucky - Greg Gerwitz

Part Eight: Home - Greg Gerwitz

Part Nine: Baby… - Greg Gerwitz

Part Ten: His - Greg Gerwitz

Asks:

Honeymoon With Mouse - Greg Gerwitz

Friday Nights With Mouse -  Greg Gerwitz

Working in Tech With Mouse - Greg Gerwitz

Dating Mouse and Being Jay’s Sister - Greg Gerwitz

Aggressive Guy In A Bar - Greg Gerwitz

Fics:

Million Reasons - Antonio Dawson x OC

Strike Back:

Revelations - Michael Stonebridge x Damien Scott

CSI: Miami

Asks:

Horatio Caine’s Daughter - Horatio Caine

Criminal Minds

HCs

Living With Spencer Reid - Spencer Reid

Dating Spencer Reid - Spencer Reid

Living With Luke Alvez - Luke Alvez

Luke Alvez Proposes - Luke Alvez

NCIS: New Orleans

Imagines:

One Night - Tammy Gregorio x Reader

Grey’s Anatomy

HCs

Owen Loves… - Owen Hunt

CSI: NY

Fics:

Complicated - Don Flack x OC

MCU

Shy - Pre Infinity War - Bucky Barnes

AU!Bucky - Can be read as stand alone or as a series

Part One: Touch - Bucky Barnes

Part Two: Lucky - Bucky Barnes