#more often than not I try to stay optimistic on things but I’ve seen servers end over much less

[dykecubes]

Bro, stop fucking doomposting. The QSMP is not ending, nobody said it was ending lmfao

Just because 3 eggs left doesn't mean anything lol

First off this is my blog and I’ll post what I goddamn want thank you, I’m not obligated to be all sunshine and rainbows 24/7 because it might make someone scrolling past me upset

Second, the qsmp has been on a very obvious downward spiral over the last several months, gradually losing more and more key streamers and it probably wouldn’t be incorrect to say the few that are still streaming are seeing a decline in viewership too, especially after purgatory, first there’s the whole thing with how frequently events on the server force players to put their lore and projects on hold indefinitely by dropping them into unfamiliar locations for seemingly no reason, with both purgatory and the more recent move to the new part of the island being extremely discouraging for players, leading to several of them quitting entirely, then the guy who started the whole thing was forced to step down after being doxxed, two major members were outed as abusers, I’m not gonna start on the whole admin situation, the more controversy surrounding the server the less people want to associate and involve themselves in it, and since the eggs were made to be a central part of the server they were a major driving force in encouraging certain members to play, with them leaving those players are most likely soon going to follow

No, the server’s not ending now, you’re right there, but that’s not what I’m saying, it’ll probably still be slightly active for a little while over the next couple of months, but this is certainly its death knell

I’m not fully pessimistic on this, though, I don’t doubt that if it does end within the next few months it’ll probably make a return within the next year with a second season like hermitcraft or karmaland, hopefully with some major improvements, a lot has been put into this project so I doubt they’ll just give up on it, which is good, it’s a great project and I don’t want it to end, but it definitely feels like this chapter of it at least is coming to a close soon

[thedge-of-forever]

the halfway point

Beth finally stopped looking over her shoulder. She had been sleeping on Susan’s pull-out couch for some time now. She never actually pulled the coach out, something in her felt as though she didn't deserve to be that comfortable, considering the circumstances.

Beth met Susan at a half-way house in south Florida. The place was called ‘The Milestone House,’ but they always referred to it as  ‘Hell’s Waiting Room.’ This was Beth’s third stay at the house. The employee’s smirked and snickered as they welcomed her back. This time she came with a black eye which went nicely with her ripped clothes, missing & rotted teeth, dirt under her fingernails, & missing eyelashes. A crystal meth addiction plagued her body & her soul, she left pieces of herself as far as the eye could see, in every dark corner of the city.  

One of two things tend to happen when you enter a house of this nature. You either find yourself and find a path to sobriety, or you leave the house with new contacts to find the substance you are jonesing for. Beth usually chose the latter. 

Susan and Beth were roommates in the house and talked about life on the other side. Susan would vent about her monster of a father and her needle using ex-girlfriend who introduced her to her first hit of heroin back in the day. Beth would, more often than not, zone out and day dream of a better tomorrow, the sun on her face, & a few bucks in her pocket. Beth would then nod in agreement or mutter words of acknowledgement to Susan’s rant, ‘yeah’ or ‘sure’ or ‘I feel you’ as she watched the clouds move past their barred up, dusty, third story window.

After her three month stint at the house, Beth was released back into the world. Susan left Beth her address on a ripped out piece of notebook paper when she was released two weeks prior. Normally a hitchhiker, Beth spent the next half of a day walking, and for once it didn’t rain on a sunny summer day in south Florida. 

Susan lived in a worn down community with many older worn out faces sitting on their porch smoking cigarette after cigarette. Beth finally approached the small ranch style home with chipped yellow paint, green shutters with missing slats, an old Spanish tiled roof in clear need of replacing, & a lawn in desperate need of a mow, she arrived. 

Susan welcomed Beth in. ‘Don’t mind all this shit’ as she rolled her eyes towards the seemingly endless pile of boxes, garbage, & empty camel menthol packs, ‘I haven't gotten around to it yet since she moved out, I’ve been in a funk, but you know that’ referring to her needle using ex. ‘Make yourself at home as long as need be, darling’ Susan pointed to the pull-out coach. 

Beth was determined to finally make a change in her life, as this felt like her personal rock bottom. 

‘I’m looking to make some money I think, keep busy, maybe even save up and maybe even leave this place one day’ Beth said quietly as she checked to see if her eyelashes started to grow back. Susan mentioned she knew someone who worked at ‘The Metro’ and that they were looking for help. 

 ‘The Metro’ was the nearby diner which had a 1920’s theme with servers who wore carhop outfits, some even with rollerblades for the outside seating. This wasn’t Beth’s style, but to be fair, her style was exactly what she was trying to leave behind, Beth took a walk over. 

‘Well, I’ll be honest with you, I don’t like the look of you, you look beaten & bruised, and we are looking for people who really fit the bill around here. But, I think it’s your lucky day because we had a gal quit mid-shift this morning during the rush, it really fucked us, it was bananas in here, pure mayhem. You got the job, don’t screw it up, go wash your face, & go see Carol, she’ll get you a uniform. If you have any trouble, figure it out, the customer is always right. You start tomorrow morning, 5am sharp, don’t fuck me.’ The manager said sternly as he patted me on the back and looked me in the eye to make sure I took all that in. 

Beth walked back to Susan’s with what was left of a smile on her face. ‘I’m really going to do it this time, I can feel it’ Beth thought to herself optimistically. 

Beth swung the door open to tell Susan the good news, with the intention of encouraging her to do the same. Before Beth could get the good word out of her mouth, she noticed Susan leaned up against the tower of trash with a needle by her side. Beth ran over and checked her pulse, nothing. This wasn’t Beth’s first rodeo, and she had seen this kind of thing time and time again, and she wasn’t going to let this ruin her good mood. Beth rummaged through the junk draw in the kitchen until she found what she was looking for, nail polish. It was alligator green, not her first choice, but it would suffice. 

Beth kicked her feet up on the ash stained coffee table as she fell back onto the pull-out coach. This was the first time she painted her toes since her mother passed.

[badchoicesposts]

Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 14

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar) Platonic!Drake x MC

DISCLAIMER: I’ve changed up the timeline of the social season a bit to fit my story better. I’ve based it off of some research I did on the British Social Season. Some of the dialogue, especially Olivia’s, was taken directly from Book 1 of The Royal Romance but was changed a bit to fit my fic.

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @ao719, @kingliam2019, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @lauradowning29, @texaskitten30, @senseofduties, @indiacater, @alexintheskyy

A/N: This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading! Also special thanks to @lauradowning29 who gave me the motivation to get this out early!

Catch Up: Masterlist

The next evening Ali, Hana, and Lizzie were getting ready for Olivia’s ball, none of them too excited to attend after the previous night. Ali slipped into the champagne colored satin maxi dress that Emma had made specifically for this occasion. The satin material made the dress look formal and classy, while the wrap style of it cinched in her waist and flattered her figure. A high slit went up the side of her left leg and exposed her sparkly, heeled shoes, which added about five inches to her height. 

“Can Emma design my clothes too?” Lizzie asked, her jaw slack as she took in Ali’s appearance. 

“She’d probably be really happy to hear you say that,” Ali admitted.

She noticed Hana smile at the other woman’s name, but didn’t comment. Before going back to New York, Emma mentioned that she and Hana had exchanged phone numbers so they could “talk about their designs” since Hana was into fashion as well. She knew they had been speaking often, but didn’t want to pry into their whatever relationship they had just yet. 

The three of them went down to the ballroom of the chateau and made a beeline towards Maxwell. 

“Ladies, it’s a pleasure to see you this evening,” Maxwell said stiffly, “And Lady Moonessar, I must say, you look utterly becoming. Truly a diamond in the first water.”

Ali was confused, and she was sure her face betrayed that.

“Thank you, Lord Maxwell, for that, uh, very formal compliment,” she replied, using his title as well. 

“Tonight I am representing the Duchy of Ramsford at this important social event.”

“Oh, so Bertrand got to you?” she asked. 

“He’s been calling me all day to remind me,” Maxwell frowned. 

“Well, I have complete faith in you,” Ali said, in attempts to get him to cheer up. 

“We should be taking our seats,” Lizzie spoke up behind them.

Ali looked around and noticed that the tables had elegant name cards on each of the plate settings. 

“Yeah, about that,” Maxwell began, “Lizzie and I are sitting at the head table with Prince Liam and Olivia, but you and Hana are at the furthest table in the back.”

“I’m guessing Olivia had something to do with that,” Ali said. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry to leave you guys, but we should get over there,” Maxwell said, motioning to the table at the front of the room. 

“Don’t worry about us. Ali and I will make the best of it!” Hana said, optimistically. 

“Yeah, have fun, Max.”

The two women walked over to their table and were greeted by Drake. 

“Welcome to the table of exiles,” he said indifferently. 

“Hey, Drake. I’m glad to see you,” Ali said, taking her seat next to him. 

“I think it’s supposed to be even more of an insult that Olivia placed us next to a commoner,” Hana commented, taking her seat as well.

They were the only three people at this table, while all of the others held at least six.

“Yeah, I have a feeling she saw it as hitting two birds with one stone. She was probably also trying to get in Liam’s head by sitting the two of us next to each other,” Ali said to Drake in an undertone. “Let’s just say his morning text today was a lot less enthusiastic than usual.” 

“It’s not like he has anything to worry about,” Drake mumbled back. 

“Drake, you don’t seem to be bothered at all by being seated in the back,” Hana said, breaking up their whispered conversation.

“What can I say? After years of getting treated like this, you build up a thick skin. Besides, back here? Out of the spotlight? At least we can relax.” 

Ali nodded in agreement and watched as servers began to fill the room, placing plates of food down on the other tables. They were gone as quickly as they came, passing over their table completely.

“I’m sure they’ll be back,” Hana said hopefully. 

“It’ll probably be a while. We’ll be the last to eat because of where we’re seated, if there’s any left at all,” he said, leaning back in his chair. 

“But, the lobster bisque. Do you really think we’ll starve?” Hana asked sadly.

Drake shrugged, and the three of them watched as a few servers still moved around the room, all overlooking their table. The three of them made casual conversation for the next hour as they all got increasingly hungry. 

“The service here is terrible, but even still it’s not the worst I’ve had. Believe it or not, I’ve been to a wedding where they didn’t serve dinner until midnight,” Hana said.

“You think that’s bad? I’ll tell you a real horror story,” Drake said, leaning forward in his chair, “Let’s set the scene. Casual get together. Lots of people I don’t know, but that’s fine because there’s a bar. Man’s true best friend. So, I figure I’ll grab a drink. I go up to the bar, and they’re out of whisky.”

Ali refrained from rolling her eyes at his comment, almost sighing in relief as a server approached their table. Three bowls were placed in front of them, and they were forced to refrain themselves from inhaling the food before the server even walked away from the table.

“There’s no lobster in my bowl. It’s just bisque,” Hana said, running her spoon through the liquid. “This is the saddest soup I’ve ever seen.”

“And the coldest,” Drake said, placing his own spoon back down after tasting it.  

Ali was just about to try the soup herself when the orchestra began playing, and Olivia moved to the front of the room. 

“Hello, dear guests, and welcome to the Nevrakis family’s chateau. It means so much that you join me in this place that’s so dear to my heart. I hope you enjoy the festivities tonight as much as I will.”

Drake scoffed at her words.

“Now please join me up front to begin the Cordonian Waltz,” she concluded.

“We haven’t finished eating!” Hana exclaimed. 

“I don’t think she cares,” Drake said. 

“Well, let’s do this,” Ali said, stomach still grumbling. “Are you coming, Drake?” 

“No, I’ll just… stay here with the food,” Drake said, looking around uncomfortably. 

Ali took her time walking up to the front of the room, not eager to do any dancing.

“Olivia, may I have this dance?” she heard Liam ask as she made her way over to Maxwell. 

“Of course. Anything for you, Prince Liam,” Olivia said happily. 

“My lady, may I have this dance?” Maxwell asked, bowing to Ali exaggeratedly and making her smile.  

“I would be honored,” she replied, allowing him to lead her into the loose circle forming on the dance floor. 

She and Maxwell began to glide seamlessly across the dance floor. 

“Wow, you’re doing really well,” Maxwell complimented.

“Thanks, I’m sure Bertrand would be glad that all of his training paid off. I think he was ready to murder me for how long it took to get this right.”

Maxwell spun her effortlessly before they finished in the end pose with her back pressed against his chest, and his arms around her. 

“We’re about to switch partners. Looks like you’ll be with Liam next,” he whispered, pushing her forward into Liam’s arms. 

“Good evening,” Liam said, catching her in his arms. 

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m doing well. It’s been a lovely evening so far,” he replied, as they carried out the same steps that she had just executed with Maxwell. 

Her nerves were building at his chilly demeanor.

“Liam, you know I was joking when I said I would take Drake and I being a cute couple into consideration right?” she asked, her voice slightly frantic but still quiet enough that only he could hear. 

Liam’s body relaxed slightly. 

“I know, and I know that you would never go behind my back with someone. You just looked awfully cosy when I saw you last night,” he said, somehow sounding ashamed and defensive at the same time. 

“I slipped when we were outside, so I grabbed onto him. The storm was getting pretty bad, and I didn’t want to lose him, so I just held on until we got back inside,” she explained. 

Liam spun her under his arm and pulled her back to him, now completely ashamed at his reaction.

“I’m sorry for getting jealous,” he whispered in her ear, his arms circling her as she leaned her back into his chest. 

They swayed silently for a second, and she felt him relax his body against hers, keeping her pressed as close to him as possible. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and closed his eyes, taking in her smell of her hair. 

“I love you, Liam. Only you,” she said quietly, closing her eyes as well and placing her hands on top of his where they rested on her stomach. 

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, neither of them was quite willing to let the other go just yet.

“Ahem!” Olivia’s voice sounded loudly beside them. 

They jumped away from each other and was met with the face of an angry Olivia. Ali also noticed a few of the other nobles glancing at them and whispering enthusiastically amongst themselves. All of the other couples had already switched partners.

“Lady Alison, I believe he’s my partner now,” she said, trying to conceal her anger.

“Of course,” Ali said, bowing her head and walking back into Maxwell’s arms. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired and hungry,” she said, not wanting to tell him about their disagreement.

“Hungry?” Maxwell asked, confused. “Dinner was just served.”

“Yeah, Olivia made sure Drake, Hana, and I didn’t eat,” Ali said. 

“Oh!” Maxwell exclaimed, surprised. 

“It’s not that big a deal,” she said, before realizing he was reacting to something behind her.

Ali turned her head just in time to see Olivia pull Liam into a deep kiss. Olivia wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and gasps were heard all throughout the ballroom. Ali tried her best to keep her expression neutral, not wanting to give a negative reaction. After a moment too long, Liam gently pulled himself away from her, and whispered something in her ear before pulling her out of the ballroom. People began to talk excitedly amongst themselves, some of the other suitors visibly angry. Many of the people in the room looking to her and waiting for a negative reaction.

“I think I’m going to sit down for a bit,” she said to Maxwell, making her way back over to the table and taking her seat next to Drake. 

Drake looked over at her as if he wanted to say something, but thought against it and remained quiet instead. They sat in silence for a moment before he finally spoke up. 

“Do you wanna get out of here? Get some actual food?” he asked. 

Ali thought it over for a moment, and then nodded. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He took out his phone and sent someone a text before getting up. They slipped out of one of the ballroom’s side doors, careful not to draw too much attention to the fact that they were leaving together, and he led her outside to a large SUV that already had the keys inside. 

The drive to wherever they were going was silent but not uncomfortable. Ali watched as the trees passed by, all covered in white snow, and rubbed her hands up her arms. The flowy bell sleeves of her dress only went down to her elbows, and she hadn’t thought to grab a jacket before they left. Drake turned the heat up as they pulled up to a small diner. 

“Wait here,” he said.

He quickly ran inside and came back out about ten minutes later with a bag and two large drink containers. He handed the items to her and got back behind the wheel, driving them about five minutes away to an empty stretch of land. He turned onto the grass and parked the car, reaching over the grab the bag.

“It’s an American style diner. I figured you could use some real food,” he said passing her a wrapped burger and a small container of fries. 

“Thanks.” 

The two of them ate in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, staring straight ahead of him and out the windshield.

“Yeah, I just- I’m just tired of feeling things,” she mumbled, shoving a few fries in her mouth. “I know that sounds dumb, but I’ve been so emotional since I’ve gotten here, and I’m just ready to go back to not feeling eight million different things at once.”

She let out a self-deprecating laugh. 

“It’s kind of ironic, isn't it? Court is the place where you’re not supposed to show how you’re feeling. You can’t react to anything too strongly because if you do you could offend someone or cause a scandal. But, at the same time, it’s one of the most emotional places I’ve ever been.”

“Well, that’s why isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Everyone grew up at court thinking that they weren’t allowed to feel anything, so now they don’t know what to do when they experience any kind of emotion. Everyone has to be so proper all the time, so know one actually knows how to act, how to be normal. Instead of dealing with their feelings they gossip, start rumors and point fingers,” he said.

Ali leaned back in her seat and reflected on his words.

“Ya know, fancy steaks and tiny finger sandwiches are great and all, but I think this might have been the best meal I’ve had since coming to Cordonia,” she said, ready to change the subject. 

Drake chuckled.

“You can thank me with a bottle of whiskey.” 

Ali laughed and took a sip of her milkshake. 

“I don’t think I’ve even touched alcohol since that night. The bachelor party. I’ve been too terrified that I would screw something up if my inhibitions were lowered even the slightest bit,” she admitted.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you’ve impressed most of the people you’ve met so far. You’ve definitely been the talk of the season. The whole scandal may have changed a few people’s opinions, but I’ve heard mostly good things about you,” he said, wiping his hand on a napkin and throwing it back in the food bag, before buckling up his seatbelt. “And if you need a decent drink, something stronger than champagne, you know where to find me.”

“I just don’t want to embarrass myself, or Liam,” she said.

“I don’t think anything you do would ever embarrass Liam. The man worships the ground you walk on.” 

“He does not worship the ground I walk on,” she said stubbornly.

“Yeah, he does. Why do you think Olivia kissed him tonight?”

“Because she felt like it,” Ali said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“C’mon, you’re smarter than that. You and Liam got too close on the dance floor, and she was jealous.”

Ali remained silent for the rest of the ride back to the chateau. It was obvious that Olivia had feelings for Liam, but she had been too caught up with her own emotions and the fact that she and Olivia had gotten into so many disagreements to stop and consider the other woman’s feelings. 

“Don’t be too mad at him for what happened. It’s not like he could have pushed her away and caused a scene in front of everyone. She’s technically still one of his suitors. Besides, he loves you, not her,” Drake said. 

Ali nodded her head. She knew that he was right, but she was still wasn’t happy about it. 

“Thanks for tonight, Drake. It was nice to get away from all of this,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and making her way up to her room. 

She was just about to pull her dress off when she saw a small envelope placed at the foot of her bed. 

Ali, 

Please meet me in the grand suite, upstairs at the end of the east wing. I believe I owe you an apology. 

All my love,

Liam

Ali sighed and placed the note back down on the bed. It was short and to the point. The last thing she felt like doing was talking about what happened tonight, but she knew that this was something that they needed to do. Her fingers traced over his neat handwriting, the last handwritten note she had received from him jumping to the forefront of her mind. 

~~~

Ali perched herself awkwardly on the edge of Liam’s bed as she watched him pile clothes into his suitcase. She had no idea why she had offered to help him pack, why she thought it would be a good idea to physically help him move on from the life they had together. She was only torturing herself, watching as the one person who made her happier than she had ever been prepared to leave her.

She was here because she was being a good girlfriend. That’s what good girlfriends did, right? They helped their boyfriends pack up all of their memories, making sure they were all bundled up neatly together so that they could easily be forgotten and disposed of as soon as he left the country. But, was she really even his girlfriend anymore? Their relationship had ended the moment he announced he would be leaving. It didn’t matter if he wouldn’t be gone for another two days, they were practically over already anyway. 

A sigh escaped her lips as she pushed herself off the bed and hastily made her way over to his nightstand. She scolded herself for thinking so selfishly. Liam had a life outside of her, and she couldn’t ask him to give that up. It wasn’t her place. He had important responsibilities. She should be thankful for the wonderful time they had been able to spend together. 

She wiped away a tear before yanking open the first drawer and dumping the contents out onto the bed. It had been mostly trinkets, but the package of condoms that he kept there caught her eyes, and she didn’t have the courage to ask him whether or not he wanted to keep them or throw them away. She wordlessly threw them into the suitcase and reached for the next drawer. 

“Wait! Don’t go in there!” Liam called after her. 

She had already pulled the drawer open, however, pulling out the envelope that was addressed to her. 

“What is this?” she asked, holding the envelope in her hands.

“I was going to give it to you before I left,” Liam whispered as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s a- uh, a letter.” 

Ali furrowed her brows in confusion and tore open the envelope. The letter was handwritten on Liam’s personal stationary. As Ali skimmed over his words she quickly realized that it was a goodbye letter.

My love,

I’ve been trained for everything I could have ever imagined, but the one thing I was never prepared for was saying goodbye to you. I never learned how to deal with losing you. I never entertained the idea of falling in love before you came into my life.  I never thought I would be able to care for someone as much as you…

Ali dropped her hand down to her side, a scoff leaving her lips as she refused to read any further. She tried desperately to hold her tears back, but her vision was already becoming cloudy and it wouldn’t be long before she was a mess. She had been trying her best not to show him how upset she was, but he was making it difficult. 

“Ali?” he said her name softly, reaching forward to place a hand on her shoulder. 

“Don’t touch me,” she said, shrugging it off, and moving towards the window. 

“You’re mad at me,” Liam stated. 

“I’m not mad at you!” she said, surprised at how hostile her voice sounded. 

She wanted to scream. She wasn’t mad at him. She was mad at herself. She was mad at herself for loving him. She was mad at herself for not breaking things off when she found out that he was a prince and for getting so attached. Deep down there was always a part of her that was scared things wouldn’t work out between the two of them because of this. Why had she ignored that? She should have gotten out before her feelings for him had become so strong. 

“I’m not mad at you,” she whispered, feeling guilty when she saw the hurt on his face. “I’m just going to miss you. It’s easier to push you away than to admit that.” 

“I know,” Liam responded, pulling her into his arms and pressing his lips to her forehead.

A part of her wished that he wouldn’t be so understanding. That he would get mad at her for snapping, and they would fight, so it would be easier to watch him leave. But, deep down she knew she would never be able to live with herself if that’s how she parted ways with him. He meant too much for her to be okay with things ending like that. 

She didn’t want this to hurt so bad, but she had no idea how to make it stop. 

~~~

She slipped off her heels and replaced them with a pair of fuzzy socks and set out towards the east wing. There was no way she was keeping those shoes on any longer. 

She knocked softly on Liam’s door, and he met her with a look of relief on his face.

“You disappeared during the ball, and I was worried that you weren’t going to show up tonight,” he said, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“Yeah, Drake and I went out for something to eat,” she said, wrapping her arms around him as well. 

She felt his body tense up again and pulled away from him with a scoff.

“What was that noise for?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“I just think it’s funny that you get upset about me spending time with Drake when I have to watch women hang off of you and shove their tongues down your throat every day,” she said casually, dropping down onto his bed. 

Liam’s arms dropped and he looked at her with a guilty expression, causing Ali to somewhat regret her petty words. Only a little though. 

“Liam, we’ve both told you a million times. We’re just friends,” she continued ranting, angrily tugging at the hem of her dress. “Besides, you’re the one that asked him to look out for me. Obviously we’re going to end up spending time together!” 

Liam let out a breath and sat next to her, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Seeing you two holding hands last night bothered more than it should have. I believe you when you said that it was innocent. I just didn’t expect to hear you say that you were with him after you disappeared tonight,” Liam admitted, rubbing nervous circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I only disappeared because you kissed Olivia.”

He went to speak, but she interrupted him.

“And I know it’s not your fault. She’s one of your suitors, and you can’t play favorites by only spending time with me. I just didn’t expect to see her actually kiss you. It’s easy to forget that it’s not just the two of us when we’re away from court events for a while, so when we come back to this stuff, and I see you spending time with the other ladies it still bothers me. I love you, and it’s not the best feeling in the world.”

She cuddled herself into his arms and allowed him to pull her back into a lying position. Her stomach was in knots and an unsettled feeling washed over her as silence enveloped them. 

“I guess all of this has been hard on both of us,” Liam said. 

“Yeah, it has. I just… I just don’t want you to doubt my feelings for you, Liam. I know that may be hard considering everything that’s happened, but I know how I feel about you. There is no doubt in my mind about any of this. I love you, and I’m glad that I’m here with you,” she said, her stomach still churning.

“And I don’t want you to doubt my feelings for you either. I’m sorry about this kiss, and I shouldn’t have gotten jealous. When I saw you getting close to Drake it... brought up a few insecurities,” Liam said.

“What kind of insecurities?” she asked.

Ali pushed herself up to rest on her elbow so she could see his face as he continued to lay on his back. 

“Drake could give you a proper relationship right now. You wouldn’t have to hide in the shadows and steal moments together. He can give you a normal life. One away from all of this.” 

“Liam, I can live with stealing moments together as long as it doesn’t stay this way forever. The thought that one day we could have a life together, a family together, makes it all worth it. It’s definitely not easy, but I’m willing to do whatever I have to, to make this work because I want this. I want you,” she said, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Thank you. I needed to hear that,” he said, a small smile gracing his features. 

Liam cradled the back of her head in his hand and pulled her into another kiss.

“You looked stunning tonight,” he said, running his hand up the leg that was exposed through the slit of her dress. 

Ali pulled herself up into a sitting position, her smile not completely meeting her eyes. 

“What is it?” he asked, sitting up as well.

“I don’t think that burger is sitting well with me,” she said, clutching her stomach and trying to will away her nausea. 

“Do you need anything?” he asked, concerned.

“Where’s your bathroom?” she asked, quickly standing up.

Liam led her to the bathroom, and she immediately fell to her knees, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. He stood behind her, holding back her hair and gently rubbing her back. 

“Oh, that burger was a lot better going down than it was coming back up,” she groaned, leaning into his arms.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, it’s my fault. The food was probably too greasy. I’m going to head to bed. I’ll be better in the morning,” she said.

She took a minute to get herself together before getting up. 

“Will I see you tomorrow?’ she asked, making her way to the suite door.

“I’ll find you. Would you like me to walk you back to your room?” he asked. 

She nodded and Liam wrapped her safely in his arms, walking her back to her room where he tucked her under her covers for the night.

[ffxivaltaholic]

LF-RP - Makael Vari - Balmung | Crystal Server

THE BASICS ––– –– –

Occupation: Assassin for the Garlean military, Freelance Assassin for the right coin. 

Hobbies: Lavishly spending gil, collecting weapons, alchemy, studying people.

Race: Viera 

Sexuality: Unknown

Relationship Status: Single

Languages: Eorzean (Common), Bits of other languages

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Color-Wheel: Black, White, Orange, Purple, Red, Gold

 PERSONAL ––– –– –

Residence: Garlemald

Place of Work: Everywhere, he rarely stays in one place.

Birthplace: Golmore Jungle

Travel Experience:  Allot.  He’s been all through Eorzea, Othard, Garlemald and various other places.

APPEARANCE ––– –– –

Height: 6′4 ft.

Build: Toned but slender

Age: 28

Gender: Male (A bit androgynous looking)

Skin tone: Dark ashy grey

Eye color: White  

Hair color: Black

Distinguishing Marks: Tattoos on his face and back, various scars from combat and training, multiple piercings on his ears.

Common Accessories:  Weapons (primarily his throwing knives and Senbon Needles), various poisons and alchemist ingredients, gil.  

 BODY LANGUAGE ––– –– –

Walk: Silent, very smooth and elegant

Voice: Somewhat androgynous depending on what he wants to get out of a conversation. Naturally it’s very smooth and slightly masculine, but lowers in tone depending on his mood and situation. He is capable of fluctuating the tones and pitch to sound more feminine if the situation calls for it.

Tics or Mannerisms: Has a habit of fiddling with a coin or weapon in his hand when waiting for something. Highly observant and will analyze every person in a room before acting. Can come off very confident and a bit arrogant.  Very specific about his appearance, especially his grooming and accessories (Earrings are a big one).

Smells After: Has a slight scent of chemicals. 

Posture: Depends on the situation, but usually relaxed or confident.

Disabilities: None

RELATIONSHIPS ––– –– –

Partner: None

Parents: Mother and Father - Both deceased as far as he knows. Adopted parents are alive and well. 

Siblings: None

Children: None

Extended Family: None

Pets: A black raven-like bird that follows him around.

Other: He has no interest in relationships and considers the idea simply a tool to complete his work and a convenient way to get others to drop their guard.  Anything that can be seen as interest is purely an act and there is most definitely an underhanded reason for him to take interest in anyone but himself.

 PERSONALITY TRAITS ––– –– –

* Allot of these are going to fall in the ‘In Between” category because they highly depend on the situation, whether he is working, and whether acting a certain way will benefit him. He is a sociopath, and while he has a conscience, it’s very very weak and he lacks general empathy towards others. 

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Addictive / In Between / Nonaddictive

 RP HOOKS ––– –– –

Garleans:  Kael was raised in Garlemald and quite comfortable around Garleans and conscripts (though he does look down on them a bit as he’s a citizen). More often than not he’ll be quite welcoming to other Garleans and citizens though.

Freelance Work:  Need someone to disappear? Want to settle a dispute without getting your hands dirty? With enough gil he can take care of those issues.  Kael has little care for the type of work if it pays well, even if it’s simply a job to frighten someone, or full on murder, so long as it doesn’t turn him against his home.  (Need a villain for a plot? This would be a suitable hook for that. He doesn’t need a large role, I’m quite happy to have him a supportive role to the plot.)

Alchemists:  A fair portion of his work involves alchemy and poisons, which he needs to restock as well as improve upon.  Meeting and trading ideas with other alchemists is a pivotal advantage to his work and general life style, so Kael will often seek out those well known and talented in the field.

Other Criminals in the Shadows:  One can never have to many connection in the underworld.  While he prefers to work alone, if the pay is right, he has no issue completing a job with others so long as they don’t try to remove him from the equation after to take his share of the profit.

Plots:  This option is available for discussion.  I quite enjoy playing a role in the story and plots of others.  If you need a villain or a threat in your plot, he can certainly fill that roll!  His involvement is subject to the discussion however as I will not involve the character in inappropriate scenes.

 LOOKING FOR ––– –– –

Plot Heavy RP:  In either a main or supporting role. (See above) 

Connections in the Underworld:  Always a benefit, and interesting encounters, not to mention good for work.

Entertainment: Kael gets bored easily, and sometimes likes to screw around with random people, playing mind games and digging for information that may be useful. For some the interaction could be completely harmless, especially if he finds them amusing, for others it could be a risky encounter. 

Slice of life:  Even an assassin needs a day off, and if caught in a good mood, he can be somewhat pleasant to be around... In small doses.

Garleans: Kael was raised in Garlemald, he’s a proud citizen and will often seek the company of other Garleans when he’s bored and wants to merely socialize.  Many of his tricks and antics are mellowed around his brethren and interactions with him can actually be quite pleasant and friendly. It’s always good to make friends on the right side of the war.

 ABOUT THE MUN ––– –– –

Who I am: A smol nerd who works allot (Customer service yay... LOL), but try to make time to log in and do stuff.

Server: Balmung, Crystal Datacenter (Always up to visiting other servers)

Time Zone: MST (Mountain Standard Time - Prairies) 

Availability: Random. My work gives me different shifts all the time, so I tend to set up rp like an appointment. On the positive, no matter your schedule, at some point I can match it. 

Writing Style: It can vary, depending on what is going on. I try to be detailed and descriptive, but it depends what I have to work off of from a response. I prefer 1-2 paragraphs, but I’m not overly picky. 

Platforms: In Game and In Discord. I don’t mind either since I can check discord at work.

 Restrictions ––– –– –

No to ERP, No to Smut, No to immediate shipping. This character is not meant for that and I would prefer to avoid the subject over all.  He’s an egotistical narcissist, other people mean little to him, and I wish to build him more as an active role in plots and character development for both himself and others. The chance of him actually warming up to someone enough to form a relationship is incredibly slim and would take a great deal of time and rp to even consider.

If you and/or your character are under aged, I would prefer you avoid this character and look at some of my others.  He’s a villain of sorts, he does bad things and he’s not the type to involve yourself with, especially in regards to any mature content.  (This is excluding plot situations that do not have any mature content, for example, as a minor role in a plot involving a kidnapping and rescuing by other players, but it would have to be clarified in detail prior to my agreement to join, and contain no sexual content whatsoever.)  

No permanent death.  I am certainly open to injuries, including life threatening, he is a bad guy after all, but he’s new and I would like to enjoy playing him for a while before I even consider the idea of killing him off.

Contact: Direct Message here, or in game if you catch me online. I don’t give my Discord out until I’ve at least spoken to you a few times.

[genericpseudonyms]

teach me how to live

Chris comes to me in a dream. She looks exactly as I remember her from 2005, before she got sick.

“Buck up kiddo,” she says. There’s a mysterious quirk of her lips, not quite a smile. And she does it again. She takes her thumb and forefinger and plucks the shoulder of my shirt sleeve. She used to do this to me any time I was being an overdramatic teenager, which was often. “You’ll be fine.”

It’s been about three years since she died and longer still since she was a big part of my life. This is the first time I’ve dreamed of her since the funeral.

-

K-Town is always so crowded on Friday nights these days. It’s strange to think it’s so popular now—you actually see people of all colors walking 32nd at all hours of the day. It’s a relief. They’ve stopped assuming I’m one of them.

I used to hate coming to K-Town for food. Mainly because it felt like the servers always knew I was Korean. They’d come, ignore all my friends, and speak to me. I understood every word they said, but could only answer in English. I wasn’t brave enough to try piecing together the phrases I knew in public.

The look of surprise on their faces always hurt.

I push these thoughts away as I walk into the BCD Tofu House. I picked this place because soondooboo jigae has always been my favorite. I can’t go too long without it before it becomes a craving. Lord knows, I’ve never been able to cook it for myself.

John is already standing there with my roommate. They spot me and I wave. Maybe it’s weird to still get dinner with your high school guidance counselor more than ten years after you graduated. I don’t particularly care.

We used to cram into his tiny office, a whole crowd of us. Didn’t matter if we had class, didn’t matter that he wasn’t our assigned counselor. We’d pop in at odd hours of the day when we should’ve been in class.

“Oh god,” he’d say. “I know this isn’t your free period.”

“Nope,” we’d reply, as we shrugged off our bags and piled into his chairs. He’d sigh but he never kicked us out.

Now that our party is complete, the servers sit us down at the very back. It’s a Friday, so after a week of trying really hard to be optimistic, I am as usual, worn down. That’s how my weekends usually go these days. Cry a little on Friday night, mope on Saturday, rally with friends on Sunday.

“You look tired,” he says.

“I’m depressed John,” I quip, and I flash him a toothy grin.

“Oh,” he says, nonplussed. “That’s not what I said though.”

“Okay, okay. The long answer is ‘I’m not tired John, I’m depressed.’”

“I warned him,” my roomie says. “I already told him that tonight was gonna be heavy.”

Good, I think. This is only the millionth time I’ve had to recount the trials of the past eight years, but it’s John. It’s easy to be honest when you’re talking to someone you know won’t judge.

“I dreamed about Chris recently. She did the thing,” I mimic the motion of plucking my shoulder.

He smiles.

-

When Chris was dying, Mama kicked me out of the house. Or, more accurately, she could not stand my grief and I had to leave.

It’s hard to speak of my teenage years with Mama. She gets cagey. She forgets. But that time, she exploded. She accused me of being so caring for a woman who wasn’t family. I was making multiple hours-long treks from the outskirts of Queens, deep into Brooklyn. All to visit a dying woman I hadn’t seen in ten years.

There’s no way, Mama said, that I would do the same for her. She knew already that I would not take care of her grave. That it’d fall to my cousin, the good one. I was rotten, she said. I was a curse of a daughter. Ungrateful and spiteful and with a heart incapable of love.

I forget exactly what she said that made me pack up my bags and leave. I know I was upset though—I only told her about my grief because I needed  help processing the impending death of someone who meant the world to me. Someone who helped me through the darkest moments of my adolescence.

I told her, I showed her my heart, and she reached in with her hands and smashed it.

I spent the next week on my friend’s couch. I went to the memorial service and saw all the teachers I loved. It’s weird seeing them as an adult—you relate differently. They’re people, with their own grief and problems. Chris had helped us all through them.

I kept it together mostly until I saw the scrapbook we’d made for her when she retired my junior year. It was a little yellowed, but she’d kept it. All those years,  she’d kept it. I read the message I’d written her and the pictures I’d drawn.

But the only thing I could think was: She’d kept it.

We took turns sharing our memories of Chris at the memorial service. Her children spoke first, then John. He cried and called her the great love of his life. And to my surprise, I also spoke. How could I not? I don’t remember what I said, just that I started sobbing halfway through because I never got to thank her properly. 

She gave a lonely kid a place to feel safe. She was the first one to encourage my writing. She talked me down off ledges. For three years, she listened to me and made sure the things I said were heard.

She saved my life.

-

After dinner, we go to the Pret-A-Manger between 6th and 7th ave. I have dropped many truth bombs tonight. My rape, my childhood abuse, my heartache, my depression, my nervous breakdown.

Conversation starts light. Black Panther and Wakanda Forever. TV shows and why John should give Stranger Things a chance. He is a nerdy, crotchety old man and it is wonderful. A part of me wonders if having a kind father is something like this. Then I wonder if I will be looking for surrogate parents my whole life.

And then my mind spirals. I hate when it does that. I am with people I love. Why is that not enough? Why can’t I snap out of the funk? Why won’t my brain stop hamster wheeling the same negative, repetitive thoughts over and over and over again?

“You know,” John says. “It’s sort of like being in mourning. You’re grieving what you’ve lost. Right now, you’re going back and forth between anger and denial. A little bit of bargaining. The goal is to get to acceptance.”

“I don’t know how to be angry,” I say. “Or, I don’t know how to stay angry at people. My therapist says I don’t let myself externalize it.”

“But you are angry,” he replies. “That’s the simplest definition of depression. Anger, turned inwards.”

I don’t know what to say, because it’s true. I have a hard time staying angry at other people. I’m quick to empathize and forgive. Because I know how hard it is to wake up everyday, try and make sense of life, and then be a good person on top of that. But against myself? I will always, always blame myself first. I will never forgive myself for mistakes. I will never forgive myself for not being better, for not being perfect. For not trying harder. For being unable to fix things. For not helping more people. For asking too much from others. For being such a burden.

For not being the type of person that people want to be around.

For not being the kind of daughter my parents would have loved.

“Why do you give them so much power over you?” John asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” I say. I’m being honest. “It’s easier to stand up for myself when they’re right in front of me. But I carry their ghosts with me. They haunt me constantly, and I’m so tired of it.”

“You’ve let them define your story. You’ve let them define you.”

“No I haven’t,” I say. “Not entirely. I’m a writer. That’s a long and sad story, but I fought for that. I fought really, really, really hard for that. I just think of having to fight that hard for everything and...it’s too much.”

“So why do you let them limit you now?”

It’s reflex. Every child wants their parents to love them. You learn to adapt to their needs, to make them happy and proud. I didn’t care if it was at the expense of myself, because I loved them more. They were unhappy and lived such hard lives. Was it really so hard for me to be the daughter they wanted?

“It’s only been a little over a month. It’s going to take time,” I say. “They taught me to view the world in absolutes. False binaries. Black and white. This or that. I know that’s not true. Life has shown me it’s not true. I know that everything is a spectrum. I know that up here,” I point to my head. “But I still don’t understand that here,” I point to my heart. “I don’t think I’ll ever get it.” 

“Well, all these things that have happened—it’s a lot for any one person. You’re trying to process everything at once. You’re just being pessimistic right now.”

I snort. “Have you met me John?”

“I have. And I think you’re an optimist at heart.”

“What? Really?”

“You’re sitting here right now. To go through what you have, to be here alive and trying—that requires some measure of strength. So yes, you are.”

I don’t feel strong. Most days, I feel weak and stupid. I tell John this and he sighs. When he asks what I want from my life, I tell him I just want to die a kind, open, and honest person. That if I manage to do that, I will have led a good, worthwhile life. 

“Do you not think you’re those things already?” “What? Kind, open and honest? No. I don’t.” 

“Well,” he says, “I completely disagree.” 

-

The last time I see Chris, death is knocking at her door. I’d heard the phrase skin and bones before, but I’d never actually seen it. She’d always been rail thin, but now there really is no flesh to her. Her skin is stretched tight over her frame, and when she curls up in the bed, it is like watching a skeleton come to life.

It is so hard to see someone you love in that much pain. She is bleeding in her jejunum, a part of the small intestines. It is killing her slowly.

“Chris,” John says, “Do you know who these people are?”

“I knew them as soon as they walked in the room. Come here and give me a kiss.”

We do. I kiss her temple, which is soft and leathery. I forget what we talked about after. She isn’t lucid for much longer. Her blue eyes start to glaze over and she starts muttering gibberish. I keep a smile on the whole time, even though all I want to do is cry.

It’s not always about you. Chris taught me that.

Birthdays were a sore spot for me in high school. We stopped celebrating mine after I was seven or eight. My parents said I was too old for it. But Sweet Sixteen. That was a thing I wanted because every other girl had one and I wanted to be normal. Sixteen is a magical year—it’s the year in The Sound of Music where a boy will dance will you in the rain in a gazebo. Everyone wants to feel special and I only ever felt invisible.

And what do I do when I’m hurt? I pretend like it doesn’t faze me. I still do, to an extent. Back then, I said things like “I don’t see the point in celebrating birthdays. You’re just going to die anyway. I hate them.”

In the week leading up to my birthday I was insufferable. Chris just gave me a look and plucked my shoulder. So I told her and she listened. Really listened. Then the bell rang, and I went to class.

And then on my birthday, there in her office, there was a surprise party. There was decorations and all my friends had skipped class. Someone had bought a cake. There were presents and card. I didn’t know what to do so I just cried. Chris was there, and I didn’t have to ask to know it’d been her idea. In her soft voice, she told me that sometimes, birthdays are not about you. It’s for people who love you. And all you have to do, is let them love you.

Then she read me a poem she wrote for me. I still remember it.

I think of it, and her, on my birthday every year.

-

On the train ride home, we talk of simpler things. My morbid love of Darren Arronofsky’s The Fountain. Why we should let Hugh Jackman sing all the show tunes he wants now that he’s no longer Wolverine. My roomie and I bicker about something or other, and how she’s leaving me soon. John rolls his eyes. We get off the G at Church Avenue in Brooklyn. It’s a bit of a walk for all of us, but the F train is a piece of shit. I don’t mind. I don’t really want to say goodbye yet anyway.

“What they did was child abuse,” John says, “If we’d known, we would have called the ACS.”

Relief washes over me. I didn’t know a fever dream in January would unlock so many memories, but I’ve been questioning them this whole time. Whether I was overreacting or not. If this just wasn’t part of the immigrant family experience. To hear him say it fills me with validation.

“She hid everything back then,” my roomie replies. “None of us knew.”  

“I miss Chris,” I say.

“You can visit her,” John replies. “She’s right by here in Greenwood Cemetery.”

“We will,” my roomie says. “And let’s get together again soon.”

John nods. “When the weather gets warmer, you’re welcome to my house. We can do a barbecue.”

Before we part ways, he plucks my shoulder.

I smile.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE OTHER 95% OF JUDGEMENT

That's a filtering rate of about 99. Should you spend two days at a conference? Hacking What should you do in college would be to include working unsubscribe links in their mails.1 The result is there's a lot more definite. You have to approach them as if you were a specimen under their all-seeing microscope, and make your initial goal simply to build a solid prototype.2 Technology gives the best programmers huge leverage.3 The constraint between good ideas and growth operates in both directions. The conversation will turn immediately to other topics. It's a hub of glamour, a magnet for the young and optimistic for decades before it was associated with technology.4 Immigration difficulties might be another reason to stay put.5 It increases the work of a distinct group of people.6 Whereas if you want to work for will be as impressed by that as good grades on class assignments.

I do this by counting the occurrences of tokens in the nonspam corpus double. It brought a critical mass of nerds and investors to live somewhere with personality. A lot of research is hacking that had to be memorized in order to filter spam, the spammer's servers would take a serious pounding.7 Another drawback of large investments is the time they take. If there's something wrong with the senator's argument, you should say explicitly you're doing it.8 But this whole discussion has taken something for granted: that if we let more great programmers into the US, the two cities I think could most easily be turned into a startup hub.9 Larry and Sergey found, there's not much.10 And aside from that, grad school is professional training in research, and you decide to draw each brick individually. PR firms realize it yet, but the reason startups prosper in them is probably the same as it is for any industry: that's where the experts are.11 That doesn't mean people are getting angrier.12

This is sometimes referred to as runway, as in: I can't believe the author dismisses intelligent design in such a cavalier fashion. This gives you maximum flexibility.13 Fundamentally the same thing that makes everyone else want the stock of successful startups, because they're so much influenced by intellectual fashions. Why only do it in borderline cases, and reports that it works well. But if you can't recognize good programmers, how would you even do that? You can pick any group of users you want. When I heard about this work I was a bit surprised. They were subsidiaries—of Beckman Instruments and Fairchild Camera and Instrument respectively. And when readers see similar stories in multiple places, they think there is any field in which the best work is done by the people who just make exactly what the customers tell them to. But reporters don't want to live somewhere with personality. Will Filters Kill Spam?

But first, I thought, I'll see how far I can get with single words. This turns out to explain nearly all the founders I know are programmers.14 For example, I stumbled on a good algorithm for spam filtering because I wanted to learn more. It was like watching a car you're chasing turn down a street that you know has no outlet. So don't get too attached to your original plan, because it's full of students. DH levels merely describe the form of dividends. We usually advise startups to set both low, initially: spend practically nothing, and make your initial goal simply to build a solid prototype. Ignoring html is a bad idea, because it's the most work. Patterns to be embroidered on tapestries were drawn on paper with ink wash.

The combination of founders, investors, and acquirers forms a natural ecosystem. So they claim it's because they want to live in a town? Readers aren't the only ones they did great things for. Spreading your corpus out over more tokens has the same model, diligently spent a day reading the user's manual to learn how to deal with users; fear of having to deal with this is to treat some as more interesting than others. And yet within a month it had happened again: an aggressive west coast VC who had known him for years. Judging yourself by weekly growth doesn't mean you can look no more than a declaration of one's ambitions. 16% false positives means that it is.15 It could mean an operating system, or a tool for 3D animation. Most of the disputes I've seen between founders could have been avoided if they'd been more careful about who they started a company with.

And even though Boston is the second one, the drawing will look boring. More often than not, two people arguing passionately about something are actually arguing about two different things. Most are only allowed to invest in photo-sharing apps, rather than the writer. A profitable startup could if it wanted just grow on its own and b something that can be incrementally expanded into the whole project, and then just try to hit it every week.16 The third false positive was a bad one, though. I can usually catch them. The point is, you have to find a good teacher.17 7x 10% 142.18 If people had been onto Bayesian filtering four years ago, he could teach him some new things; if a psychologist met a colleague from 100 years ago, writers wrote and readers read. A startup has to make something lots of people want and how to reach those people, there's a danger that the increase in disagreement will make people angrier. But reporters don't want to print vague stuff like fairly big.

Empirically, boldness wins.19 It's supply and demand: glamour is popular, so you have to get close, and stay close, to your users.20 But there was one who was away half the time talking to investors while your competitors are spending theirs building things. Now, when someone asks me what I do, I look for probabilities for Subject free, free! That's a completely different kind of error. Then they're mystified to find that their startup lumbers along like a World War II bomber while their competitors scream past like jet fighters.21 If startups end up doing something different than they originally intended—often so different that it doesn't matter at all where a startup is like being an actor in that respect. Indeed, there is even a saying among painters: A painting is never finished, you just stop working on it. The worthwhile departments, in my opinion, are math, the hard sciences, engineering, history especially economic and social history, and the problems you understand best are your own. If you wanted to start a company.22

Notes

I'm not trying to sell things to be obscure; they just kill you, what would happen to their stems, but the churn is high as well as good as Apple's just by hiring someone to do that, the other writing of Paradise Lost that none who read it ever wished it longer. As usual the popular image is several decades behind reality.

If they agreed among themselves never to do that. I think you need to run an online service, this thought experiment: set aside an option to maintain their percentage. The Nineteenth-Century History of English.

So instead of blacklist. Math is the most important factor in the computer world recognize who that is not a big company CEOs in 2002 was 35,560. It turns out to be promising. People commonly use the standard edition of Aristotle's contribution?

Moving large amounts of our own version that by the customs of the most successful founders is that parties shouldn't be too conspicuous.

54 million, and 20 in Paris. Most of the device that will replace TV, just harder. Fifty years ago, the top stories were de facto consulting firm.

There's a sort of Gresham's Law of conversations. I suspect. If you're doing something different if it were better to live in a more general rule: focus on building the company than you think you'll need, maybe 50% to 100% more, while Columella iii.

But those too are acceptable or at least seem to lose elections. The reason only 287 have valuations is that coming into office hours, they've already made the decision. We could be ignored. If early abstract paintings seem more interesting than random marks would be easy to write about the millions of people are trying to make you expend as much effort on sales.

Analects VII: 1 It's hard to grasp this than we can teach startups a lot of problems, but I call it ambient thought. What you're looking for initially is not as a test of success. Interestingly, the more accurate predictor of success. Philosophy is like starting out in the same thing twice.

Obviously, if you have the luxury of choosing among seed investors, you now get to profitability before your initial funding and then being unable to raise more, the growth is valuable, and it doesn't cost anything.

One to recover data from crashed hard disks. Its retail price is about 220,000. Sullivan actually said form ever follows function, but you should be clear. You leave it to colleagues.

The existence of people starting normal companies too. Though most founders start out excited about the right to buy it despite having no evidence it's for sale. The disadvantage of expanding a round on the richer end of the War on Drugs. The problem with most of the world population, and owns significant equity in it, Reddit has had a broader meaning.

This is actually a computer. 'Math for engineers' classes sucked mightily.

Startups are businesses; the defining test is whether you want to lead. What I should probably start from the late Latin tripalium, a VC firm wants to the wealth they generate. Adults care just as big a cause for optimism: American graduates have more options. A round VCs put two partners on your way up.

Why Are We Getting a Divorce? As we walked in, we met Rajat Suri. Indeed, it means is we hope visited mostly by people like them—people who currently make that their experience so far done a pretty comprehensive view of investor behavior.

Which means if you're going to visit 20 different communities regularly. I'm not saying you should. You may not be incorporated, but also seem to have balked at this, I asked some founders who'd taken series A investor has a spam probabilty of.

Geshke and Warnock only founded Adobe because Xerox ignored them.

The founders want the valuation of the lies we tell.

Type A fundraising is because their company for more than they have less room for another. As Paul Buchheit points out, First Round excluded their most successful companies have little to bring to the company's present or potential future business belongs to them.

But a couple hundred years ago they might shy away from large companies will one day have an email address you can fix by writing library functions. The reason you don't have to. But it's a harder problem than Hall realizes.

Could you restrict technological progress to areas where Apple will be lots of people who had small children to consider how low this number could be ignored. Two Hundred Years.

Because in medieval towns, monopolies and guild regulations initially slowed the development of new inventions until they become so embedded that they have to sweat whether startups have over established companies can't compete on tailfins.

Reporters sometimes call a few unPC ideas, because the broader your holdings, the growth in wealth over time. Bill Yerazunis had solved the problem is not Apple's products but their policies. This doesn't mean the Bay Area, Boston, and b the valuation should be.