#profit would mean something different to him than it would your average human being

[monty-glasses-roxy]

I don't think he dropped Cassie and I still think it was entirely Freddy's fault for what happened to the others in SB.

ive actually never heard this take before and im fascinated by it (/pos), have you posted something explaining it before? ^w^

I've talked about it a lot a while back but I can't for the life of me find the posts so I'll explain it here for you.

Firstly, lemme just say that I'm well aware the reason why these things are the way they are, is because it's a game. It has to give you objectives to complete and ways to stop you from progressing too fast, or going where the devs don't want you to go. A lot of this is just game design not being properly justified as things that make sense in-universe, which is fine, it just unintentionally frames Freddy in a different light when you really look at it.

SO

Lets get the quick one out of the way... Freddy has full access to everywhere in the main Plex. Every door opens for him, and not Gregory. It's the rules that you may only go into those areas with the right pass, and whilst Freddy ignores this in the first five minutes of the game and several times afterwards, he solidly stands by these rules for most things. Freddy could have literally just opened the VIP fire exit for him, but chose not to. He could have also taken Gregory into any other area of the Plex without requiring a pass, but chooses not to for seemingly no reason. The only time he's ever given an actual reason for why he can't go somewhere with Gregory is when he says he won't be able to stop dancing if he goes to the Fazcade where DJ is. If take him there, nothing actually happens though so like... okay then.

Of course, if he went everywhere with Gregory and opened all the doors for him, the game would be over in minutes unless they had another reason for it. It does give you the idea that he's a little hypocritical though, and picks and chooses which rules to follow and when. He won't go into Fazerblast with Gregory because that's cheating, but he's fine with Gregory upgrading him even though one wrong move could kill him. It's an odd choice to make, ya know?

More relevant to how he's responsible for what happened to the other animatronics, he literally just doesn't do anything. Gregory is a child making shitty decisions because he's a child, and literally no one has suggested there could be another way to him. He can't see another way to deal with this other than to destroy Roxy, Monty and Chica, and upgrade Freddy so he can access more areas. In this situation, Freddy is the responsible adult. It's his job to keep Gregory safe and get him out of the Pizzaplex. And then not only does he not get Gregory out, he stays completely silent as Gregory destroys them.

Freddy says his friends are acting differently to normal, so he knows something is wrong, but he doesn't choose to investigate or try to help them. He knows what Gregory is doing, because he can still see his friends walking around after they've had their parts stolen. He recognises that the voicebox upgrade Gregory has given him is Chica's voicebox, and Gregory straight up tells him that his new eyes are Roxy's. He might not know how he did these things or if he wasn't just being opportunistic when accidents happened, but given it happened three times in a row and Freddy knows where two out of three parts came from, it really doesn't take a genius here.

He knows what's happening and that there's something wrong with them, but he doesn't make any moves to stop it or find out what's happening. Instead, he lets Gregory carry on doing what he's doing, and leaves him completely unattended in a Pizzaplex full of murderous animatronics for the majority of the night. If he really doesn't know what Gregory is doing, then the point still stands that maybe he shouldn't be leaving a child unattended when there's several animatronics and a furry trying to kill said child.

AND early on, Freddy suggests that if he had claws like Monty, he would be able to break through the chained gates. Now, it may not have been intentional to put the idea in Gregory's head, but his tone is just a little bit off to me when he says it.

This is why I feel the events of Security Breach were entirely Freddy's fault. He could have stopped Gregory at any moment during that night, could have gotten him out safely, and could have stayed with him more to keep him safe, but he didn't. He helps only when Gregory calls for it, and does basically nothing else to help for the entire game. He barely even reacts to Gregory stealing everyone's parts. There's no "why would you do that?" or anything. He asks where Gregory got Chica's voicebox and then doesn't question it again. There was no one else there to question it, no one else there to help and no one else there to stop him, the responsibility was entirely on Freddy.

To add insult to injury, we now know the canon ending is the one where he left the Pizzaplex with Gregory and Vanessa. He was the only one that could see the others were acting weird, and he literally just up and left them. For no obvious reason either which makes it worse to me honestly.

Again, a lot of this can be explained by the fact this is a game, but it's a very interesting angle for Freddy. Was Bonnie's disappearance enough to splinter the group so badly Freddy no longer cared? Does he genuinely think he's doing everything he can to help? Is he up to shit whenever Gregory isn't nearby? Is he under the influence of something else, like say, a Mimic? Is he still somewhat under Vanny's control and only have limited awareness of what's happening? Does safe mode limit his critical thinking skills or is he just like this?

It's something that can be worked with for sure and it's where my interpretation of Freddy stems from. Gregory could have chosen differently, yes, but it was Freddy's responsibility to help him find an alternative before anyone got hurt, and he chose not to. That's just the long and the short of it, and I feel it makes him a little more interesting as a character.

[lavenoon]

When it comes to the boys is there anything they may be super casual about that Robin may just look at them and either go "What are you doing??" or "Wait a second, you need that?"

I continue tackling old asks <3

So for this, there might be a bunch that'll seem like it should have come up sooner and only didn't because I didn't think about it before this ask. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to ponder those human/ animatronic differences - they're my bread and butter!

The first thing that surprised Y/N was pretty soon after Sun moved in - he didn't technically need it, but the boys like setting up their charging station a bit. So Sun asked to make some minor alterations to the house. Comparable to uhhh maybe a charging station to an electrical car at home, just not quite the same dimensions? To Sun/Moon it means quicker charging as well as better equipment compared to "travel" set ups.

Y/N, while they didn't expect it, did tell him to make those alterations as he sees fit, because they are a bad landlord and don't really care - in their mind he lives there, and should live comfortably!

There's also the check-ups. Like any human should go to the GP even without acute issues every now and then, animatronics need check-ups too! But the first time it comes up it's a moment of "Oh right that makes sense, why did that never occur to me?"

The boys can do a good bunch of repairs by themselves, more so than the average animatronic I'd say. Their trust in engineers (especially human engineers) has taken a significant hit after the Eclipse battery issue, and they decided they'll learn a bit more about their inner workings.

(I don't think animatronics in general would just know how to do their own repairs. Like Robin thinks in First Aid - that's like expecting a human to do their own surgery. Possible, sure, for some things - but definitely not the standard. How many humans have medical knowledge on the level of a doctor without being a doctor? Takes active research into personal health issues, and that's exactly what our celestial brothers did. Eclipse, too. His trust into engineers took the greatest hit - the first one he met turned out to cut corners for profit, and was dishonest. So these three are a little special, but they have their reasons)

Despite all that, they do try to get a full body check-up at least once a year. They also have to replace their finger joints and casing more often than would technically be necessary with normal wear and tear, but Sun has a nervous habit of wringing them until they creak while also hating the dents it causes.

They can also detach limbs without great issues. I imagine it similarly to fullmetal alchemist automail, where it's uncomfortable for a split second when "nerves" get de/ attached, but otherwise it's just. There's no lingering/ constant pain, so they can detach hands, arms, and legs pretty easily. The hands are extra because they have the separate circuits, and the tasers may need specific maintenance.

If, at some point after the First Aid blowout (or, well, blowup) the boys decide to keep a few replacement parts on hand (not like, a whole second body, because that's too expensive, but just like. A couple custom parts, every now and then, as long as the joint wallet agrees), it makes for a funny little moment of Y/N picking up a package for them, taking it inside, and going "oh, this is kinda heavy, what did you order? if you wanna share" "oh, just another arm. ordered the left one last month, now we have one of each in storage." And Y/N just stands there internally screaming because the thought of just. Ordering an arm for when you might need to replace your old one is just not really something they can empathize with, and their attempts of course lead to more imagined body horror.

Generally I'd say that Y/N sometimes slips into making the two human in their mind, not just people. They don't mean to, but they didn't interact this much with many animatronics (if any) before, and didn't know any as well as Sun/Moon, so they just. Fumble.

Like Sun/Moon complaining about squeaking joints, and they just hesitantly get some WD-40 to offer the boys, like "Is this gonna help? It works for doors but I don't want to say you're like a door" while the boys just die on the inside trying not to laugh

(I don't know if they could use WD-40. Gut instinct says yes, but I simply don't trust my gut like that lmao)

The boys also make a couple memory back ups every now and then, just in case. It wouldn't be able to replace their AI should anything happen to them, but if their memory cards are fried they can check things out again, and they could show Y/N their memories, like videos! Y/N also needs a bit to adjust to that. It's sweet to see how much focus they received from the start, and to see how hard Sun/Moon tried to do well by them, but it's also literally seeing themself through someone else's eyes, and that's not something a human would just expect is possible

In that vein - if they ever mention they can just share their memories with each other, Y/N is gonna need a moment to grapple with that (before demanding an explanation why they don't do that, because it would have saved them all a lot of grief if they'd compared notes on their rival and neighbor. Not too accusingly, because Y/N feels guilty for missing the signs themself, but just a bit of "Why wasn't this an option?")

There's also the curiosity about just, constantly running programs. All the sensors for the boys - seeing and hearing work better than for a human, touch is different but it's hard to explain how, more deliberate with the option to exclude circuit areas easily, and smell is a little less sensitive, comparable to electronic "noses" that also gives them some idea of how things would taste, but otherwise that sense just entirely falls off the table. Where and how electricity is running, where are which sensors, what sort of temperature regulation do they have? (They run just a little colder than humans when at rest, and no one with gaming laptops come at me, I'm basing this off my own laptop PLUS I'm giving them better fans/ tech).

Y/N would be curious to learn about all that, because they want to love all of the boys, and want to know all they can. But I don't think they'll ever learn as much to do repairs single-handedly - they don't see why they have to, frankly. They don't want to think of the boys broken so badly that no one else would even offer to help, and otherwise just assumes situations like First Aid, where they can just carry out instructions while the boys are incapacitated. They learn how to recognize terms and what screw goes where and which cable does what, but they don't get the intricacies of it all because despite everything, they are not an engineer for animatronics and I'm not making them one gfhdj

Think that's it for now, that's already 1.2K words too so! Hope that's some fun then <3

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

So, I always wanted to know a bit more about Wands in the harry potter universe. Given that they are so central to life, it would be nice to have a bit more info.

The wood - we know there's like 4/5 different types of wood they choose, and they're all things they can get in region. Does that imply then that aussie wizards could have wattle, eucalyptus, or other local trees?

What about trees native to the region, JK? TELL ME

How do they choose the tree. Do they have to come from a specific place, or do wandmakers need to wander through magically inclined forests until a branch falls off into their hands, or what?

Is there like commercial plantations of these trees, to feed the constant need for all the children constantly coming into their power?

What does that look like? What are the hazards? Can the place get infested by bad magic or what? Pesticides or no?

So they find the tree, next step? Is it just like 'yes, dibs that branch' and that's it, or do they take the whole tree? What are their conservation policies?

Or do they need to do a spell, or use a ritual or something before/during/after harvesting?

Crafting... how do they know what length and shape to make for each piece of wood? Like, is it like when artists make statues and they can already see what is inside the marble/wood, etc.? Or do they just make as many randomly shaped wands as they can for each one... is there a magial equivalent of a lathe? Or is this all by hand?

How do they choose designs, assuming the wand isn't calling out to them? Like, some are delicately patterned, and the elder wand was straight up a**l beads???

Are there variations based on the shop, the wandmaker and the region?

The core - apart from the main question of how they get the core in there (drill a hole and slip it in? make it into a potion and soak the wand? lay it on the crafted wand and it disappears in a show of magic?), and if this is done before or after the wand is shaped... You have to think it's a little fucked up the way they go about it, right?

Standards are like, Unicorn hair, Phoenix Feathers (Rare) and Dragon Heartstring, right?

Well how the fuck do they get these things without unethical commerical farming? Unicorn hair is easy enough, you have a herd of them on a ranch protected from bad guys or whatever (and centaurs are lobbying against it bc what the fuck magical people) and most of the strands can be picked up from where they catch / fall out by fences, in the paddock, in the barn at night, etc

But what if they just pluck them. I mean, there are places that live-pluck birds for the feathers, which is fucked up, and we know magical people see any magical creature or half-human as lesser...

Assuming things are totally ethical, best case is that the unicorns lose a bit of mane or tail hair every so often and it is sourced from the field. Worst case, they are trapped in stalls all day every day and shaved beyond acceptable (look up horse tails, it's not all hair) to the detriment of the animals...

Ideally, but more impracticably, the wandmakers could wander through the forest and meet at a certain place with wild herds. They bring the carrots, the unicorns hand over a few strands once a year...

\I know unicorn cores are meant to be harder to turn to the dark arts but like... what if the unicorns are upset, stressed and angry? You'd think that would turn on them, right?

Phoenix Feathers... well they're rare. I think they probs have to get it willingly, or it doesn't work. Wasn't that in the books somewhere? But it wouldn't have to be. I mean, they're an immortal resource... even if you mistreat a phoenix, it cant escape in death.

You just have to wait a bit for it to regrow, and there's probs spells to help speed that up. I mean, look how the world treats chickens (caged), would it be that hard for magical society (with fewer animal oversight committiees and laws) to pull some nonsense...

The dragon cores are the ones that always used to stress me out, as a concept, as a child. Like, there's a LOT of dragon heartstring wands, its common... that implies a lot of dead dragons.

How many hearstrings does the average dragon have, in this universe? Assuming at least four... that's only four wands, maybe eight if they cut them in half and it still works.

So, are they commercially farmed? Is Charlie Weasley complicit in dragon farming with the goal of harvesting the animals for parts? What happened to the dragons from the Triwizard Tournament? Is there a first year with a Special Dragon Heartstring wand?

Also, would they need to prep them specially?

What variations are there, as well? Like these are the main 3, but other countries and places have to have others, or have tried other magical things?

Do you think there are houself ears, or Centaur tendons, or mermaid fins, or kraken tentacles, or niffler claws, or goblin teeth, or redcap blood, in their wands? And it only phased out of common production recently as new protections came in for magical races?

Is there a blackmarket trade for illegal cores and if you have enough it can be 'verified' as a legal core...? There are implications here.

So you have the core, you have the wood, you have the wandmaker who slapped it together and imbued it with magic... you have a wand. Does it do a little sparkle or something when it works?

Are there wands that get to the end of the process and just... fail to work? How do they dispose of them?

Do they put resin or a protective potion/agent on it? They have to last for years, right?

Longevity - So you have a wand your entire life, unless it breaks or it is taken for being a Bad Naughty Little WizardTM... for one, how does the wand choose the person? Even if we slap a 'magic' bandaid on it, there are still more questions about it.

Do you lose your wand if you become impaired? Like, would a magical doctor remove your wand if you got dementia and 'lost capacity'? But then, how would it control your innate magic? The stuff you can do wandless? Off topic.

So you pass away, is your wand typically buried with you? Is it given to a family member? If so, then how does that work because the info the author gave was it was one wand = one person, pick each other etc. Assuming it does bond to that other family member, who is probably young enough to not have their own wand yet... does that mean their perfect wand will never be bought?

If not, what normally occurs? Does the wand get taken by the council Dept of Births, Deaths, Marriages and Magical Incineration to be checked over and reset to 0? Does it get returned to the Wandsmith shoppe who made it, so they can check it is fine to be reused? Does your wand choose another person, who will never know how well it once fit into your hand? The atrocities you committed with it?

How does this system work? Is there magic recycling, or is it all waste...?

Are cores from animals who did not consent at greater risk of turning the bearer evil?

What if your wand breaks... like Ron's did? Like... he had an older relative's wand, so he got a proper wand that matched him. But what if your Perfect Match of a wand is damaged? Why is there no option to have the wand repaired properly...

If humans today would rather die than get a replacement roomba, you have to assume people would be pretty damn attached to their wands... maybe more than usual. Is it about profit? Or can they just not fix it? What are the limitations on fixing a wand, or is it just not considered at all?

Is there... wand insurance?

Like, it feels like there was a lot to talk about...

[tommysdiner]

Torchwood!Tommy Character Profile

Essentials:

1) What name did they go by as a Kine, and what name do they go by now? Why and how did they choose this name, if it’s different?

Born Tomàs Baker, they were primarily called "Tommy" in life and that continues. As it's been 80 years since they were registered legally dead, they have decided to take on a false surname, as well as to keep Torchwood from knowing too much about them. They borrowed "McDonnell" from their crush from when they were alive. Though, this is moot, as due to a backfire of a ritual, Torchwood 2 now knows their real name.

2) What year were they born (or how old would they be in life), and what age do they appear? What age do they feel?

They were born in 1907 and died in 1925, so they look like an 18 year old, though with the infirmity they experienced and just life being what it was at the start of the 20th century, their "18" looks a little older. They can often pass as early-mid 20s without too much difficulty. In truth, they are 101 years old. The year is 2008, the pyramid has just fallen and to some degree they feel so young and vulnerable. Old World Kindred tend to be older. Princes have held these positions since, some of them, the establishment of the Camarilla nearly a millennium ago. But then, among the Kine they work with, they feel ancient. People reference pop culture from any of the time while they were in the Pyramid and it just flies over their head. They feel out of place among these oh so young and fragile humans. Thankfully, Seòras helps them feel a little more okay with it. Agent Lennox, being nearly 50 years old, also doesn't get the references. They sometimes sit there while Cami and Ash talk about some movie or internet trend and just let the conversations wash over the two of them, absorbing nothing.

3) Which Clan do they belong to? How do they feel about their Clan?

They were Embraced into Clan Tremere and House Tremere. Though, lately, people have started questioning the truth of their affiliation. They're a Thinblood, after all, do they really deserve the title of "Tremere"? This all is compounded by the fall of the Pyramid. The House is in chaos and the childer are unreigned. Kindred openly rebel against their sires and the new House Ipsissimi has been formed. Generally, the Anarchs accept both their status as Thinblood, some among the 14th Generation even going so far as to call the term a slur. They are the Duskborn. Duskborn are burgeoning into a new Clan within the Anarch movement and while Tommy is yet to be forced to choose between the two, they know the time is coming. They are yet to make a decision.

4) Which Predator type do they most align with and why?

Currently: Bagger. It's part of the conditions of their employment. No feeding off living humans. Tommy has given a taste for the blood of corpses, its disgusting but, occasionally a welcome change, as well as animals, honestly somehow more unpleasant than the former and coming with the added issue of needing multiple vessels to even lend themself a somewhat satisfying meal. No, bagged blood is the best of the options available. Further, they don't have to steal it. Torchwood buys the bags at the same rate a hospital would pay and it simply comes out of the food budget. Yvonne *does* question why their food budget is so high, but as of yet hasn't pursued the issue too closely. Thankfully, Lukas covers for Tommy. It's a precarious situation, but one that balances for now.

5) Who Sired them, and into what Generation were they Sired? What’s their relationship with their Sire like, and what were the circumstances of their Embrace?

They were sired by their sister: Somhairlín Baker into the 14th Generation. They were scheduled to be Embraced anyway, by Sam's sire, but before the date was supposed to come, they were struck in a motor vehicle accident while in Galway seeking medical treatment for their chronic anemia. Anemia caused by Sam's clandestine use of Tommy as a Cloven Blood Doll. Somhairlín, feeling guilt, Embraced Tommy. Their parents died. The two bonded closer than in life. This would eventually be a source of great pain in Tommy's life as, in early 2008 following the F1rstlight attack on the Vienna Chantry and the Head of the Tremere Pyramid, Tommy felt need to murder their sister.

6) What level of Humanity are they? Has this changed over the years they’ve been dead?

Tommy's Humanity is very low. Due to the practices of the London Chantry and a development of growing Noddist and Cainite practices, Tommy ended up on the Path of Caine during their time in London. They moved to London to escape Thinblood persecution in the post-War era and it was for naught. In London, Tommy hid themself as Sam's ghoul, and Sam, in turn, entered them into a Blood Wedding, a situation where two Vampires bond themselves to the other threw drinking each other's Vitae. This created a feedback loop where both of them sunk to deeper levels of depravity match for match. And, under Hal Grove, Regent of their Chantry, they began doing research into the Thinblood condition.

The research consisted mostly of Embracing new Thinbloods and finding the limits of the condition: could they use disciplines, could they bond, could they be tapped as a source of Vitae... all of these answers proved to be "sometimes" and the Baker siblings lost grip on their humanity with extreme speed. Since the Fall of the Pyramid, they have been slowly clawing their way back; first: onto the Path of Humanty, a dangerous feat to attempt without personal guidance, and then slowly up the ladder of morality. Now, they sit at humanity 5 -- 6 through 8 being the usual extremes of the average human being.

7) Which Disciplines do they possess, and which do they favor using?

They have the traditional disciplines of Clan Tremere: Thaumaturgy, Dominate, Auspex, but they favor Thaumaturgy. In their role as offensive specialist they favor the paths of Flames and Nebulism. The former as a means of attack and the latter to disable enemies or clear a building of civilians.

8) Who are their Touchstones, if any? / 9) What are their Convictions (moral opinions and standings they hold fast to)?

Cami. A fellow Agent of Torchwood who vouched for them to become member of the team. She represents a value of trusting others judgements. As they say "I take pride in the goodness and strength of my friends and that they, being as such, should care for me."

Lukas. Their boss, the head of Torchwood 2. They keep Tommy in line and enforce the value of the preservation of human life. As much as Tommy is frustrated that Engstrom is blackmailing them to keep them in line, to some degree they are thankful.

10) Do they belong to any sect or are they independent?

They belong to the Anarchs. Hard to be a Camarilla Tremere when you collapsed your old Chantry and murdered your sire. No Camarilla Tremere will touch them. They wouldn't bleed on Tommy if they were on fire.

Life

1) What did they do (as a career or in general) before they were Embraced?

They were a Seminarian, studying to be a Priest. Now, that is just completely out of the realm of possibility.

2) Do they still have mortal family or friends, or descendants of those people? Who were they closest to during life, and is there anyone they’ve contacted after their Embrace?

Still, no. Again? Yes. The people they knew are dead and tracking them down would be dangerous. Once, they tried to find their namesake McDonnell's descendants, but lost track of them when they moved to the New World. Thus is unlife. A series of disappointments. And what would they have said anyway? 100 years ago I wanted to kiss your grandfather? That's not going over well. It's as good a reason as any not to keep pursuing.

3) What were their hobbies, skills, and interests?

They knit. They were rarely able to make the trek to the school at the other end of the island in their youth and so they took up crafts. One of the neighbors had sheep and often sold clothes. With Tommy's health the way it was, they sometimes couldn't get out of the chair for days and spinning wool into yarn by hand and kniting the yarn into fabrics. It was nice. They were always cold so now they had sweaters and blankets to keep themself warm. They also sold some of their wares in town, or, the neighbor sold them and split the profits. A necessary source of income when their father was out at sea so long and money became scarce.

4) Did they have any vices, addictions, or mental illnesses? Which carried over into death?

They smoked. The doctors suggested it as means of strengthening the lungs with hopes of helping them build up the energy to walk. Obviously, this was counter intuitive. When they did feel up to it, and the night air was fresh and cool, Tommy and their friend Larry McDonnell would sneak into the chapel and "borrow" a bottle of communion wine. Red-faced and dizzy, they would fall in love with him over and over again, afraid of what it meant, but craving the times when they felt brave enough to reach out for him. Sometimes Tommy felt like maybe Larry felt something in return. It was hard to peel the alcohol from the desires from the truth, and so they never truly acted on it.

5) What were they most afraid of in life? How has this changed?

They were most afraid of their homosexuality. Did this mean they were going to Hell. Did they have to worry about dragging someone else down with them... This has changed in that they have largely given up on the Catholic faith. Perhaps they'll come back to it, they feel a draw to spirituality to fill the hole left by their lapsed Noddism and worship of their Domitor-and-Thrall. They've attended services a few times lately and it seems like some of the opinions within the flock are shifting. They don't want to get too attached but reattajing to their human faith is helping them feel just that much more Human, an addicting feeling.

6) What were their goals and ambitions in life? How has this changed?

Their goal at the time had been to squash their sexuality with faith. Now, they have embraced their queerness. It's a struggle many days to treat themself with kindness in that front. Hell, it's a struggle most days to treat anyone with kindness. But they're getting better.

7) Did they follow any religion or spiritual paths in life? How did that change when they died, if at all?

They were a Catholic in life, hoping to become a Priest and then in Unlife first abandoned religion but then got drawn in by the lures of Cainite Noddism. Now, with the Fall of the Pyramid, they feel a call to that old religion once again. Who knows where it will take them.

8) When they were Embraced, what was the aftermath like? Did they fake their death, do their loved ones think they went missing, etc.?

Their family died along with them so they faked that they died, too. At least they don't have to worry about their parents thinking they're missing.

Death

1) What have they spent most of their years as a Kindred doing?

Most of it has been spent researching their condition. Now, they are one of the most knowledgeable , probably in the world, on what it means to be a Thinblood.

2) What’s the entire lineage of their bloodline, from them all the way back to their Clan’s Antediluvian? Is there anything in particular that they and their grandsires all had in common?

They were primarily raised by their grandsire. Sam's sire took them on as a second childe, even though they had planned to wait maybe 10 years. So, Tommy got the same education as their sister. His sire, however, I haven't thought as much about.

3) How do they adapt to the changing times around them? Do they still uphold values, styles, or other things from the past?

They definitely dress a little bit out of time. And what's not anachronistic is absolutely horrible. They dont, however, adapt very well. They haven't gone through the back catalogue of media Cami gave them, cultural milestones and things that have happened... Just a few months ago, Tommy found out man had touched foot on the moon. They are more than a little behind the times.

4) Do they have a coterie? What position do they take in that group, if so? Otherwise, do they have any notable Kindred (or other creatures) friends?

Their "coterie" is probably the Torchwood 2 team, deapite being Kine. They serve as a blaster with magic on call they can destroy threats and protect their lives -- especially Lukas Engstrom, who, if he dies, will release a catalogue of all the information he has gathered on Kindred to every intelligence agency in the world, a threat Tommy doesn't take lightly.

They are also connected to Alastríona "Cass" Balach. She is Tommy's sponsor in House Ipsissimi and, by human standards, their Sponsor in Alcoholics Anonymous. The disguise is simple wordplay, but the Ipsissimi hide themselves within the Crowleian "Astrum Argenteum" which they in turn have using Alcoholics Anonymous as a front. This also serves as an out for Tommy. They couch their cravings for human blood in terminology based around Alcoholism and thus they are given a space to discuss their emotions. At meetings is also where a Ghouls of Balach's will give them study materials if need be. New rituals and information about the next step on one of their Paths. It's a pretty nice arrangement.

5) Which of their Clan’s stereotypes apply to them? Which do they act against, or embody the opposite of?

They are a neurotic mess. A perfectionist to their core, and sometimes they apply that perfectionism outward becoming a domineering person. They are secretive and dangerous. They have spent decades engaging in unethical magical experiments. Truly, they are quintessential Tremere.

However, they fight to change that. They want to be a better person and a better Kindred. They want to look at a person and not feel a desire to take them apart and find out how they tick. Thankfully, Engstrom keeps them in line on that front, with the actually follow8ng through of it anyway.

6) How do they feel about the Antitribu of their Clan?

Having very nearly been one, they understand the allure. The draw of Vampiric Supremacy and the willingness to bring human kind to their knees, however, they also pulled away. Once their eyes were clear they put their very existence on the line, revealed to the Prince that they had been a Thinblood illegally living in her domain and turned on the Cainites to bring the White Hall Chantry down. They fear the Tremere Antitribu. Their sponsor was also former Goratrix and, bearing the Mark of the Traitor, she was a fullfledged member who partook of the Vaulderie. Whatever brought her out remains to be seen, but Tommy wouldn't have an in at continuing Thaumaturgical Studies without her, and for that, he's grateful.

7) Have they Embraced anyone? Ghouled anyone?

They have, but not to keep around. And having lived in the Blood Bond for decades, they never want to do that to anyone else again.

8) Do they prowl, or is there a city they permanently reside in?

They seem to have settled in Glasgow, as much to be close to their new Sponsor as anything else. And, with their membership in Torchwood 2, they hope to stick around for a long time.

9) What’s their haven like?

They live at the Glasgow Hub: the basement of a nondescript Warehouse in a district of Warehouses, itself hidden by Vampiric magics. They have a private room to live and sleep in near the entrance. When they sleep, they are the first line of defense if something should come in. They protect the themself and their partners with another spell that will wake them immediately if a danger disturbs their residence.

The Hole itself is cozy. Not very big, about the size of a studio apartment. A single room with a bed, a bookshelf, and a fridge to hold Blood Bags. Not too much going on otherwise.

10) Do they believe they are descended from Caine, or do they follow a different path?

They do not believe they are descended from Caine. They have looked at the information Ash has managed to draw from them and it appears that Vampirism may be of extraterrestrial origin. Its exact origin is unknown, but alien stock seems to rule out the concepts purported by Noddism. And, after a period of time otherwise, they are back on the Path of Humanity.

11) How do they feel about Diablerie?

They wonder often. They wonder if they should have Diablerized Sam. Sure, it's a crime in the Camarilla, but they are no longer Camarilla, and they wouldn't be a Thinblood anymore. They would be a stronger force to reckon with, more able to protect their team... But it's a dangerous line of thought. And there's nothing doing, now.

12) Regardless of whether or not they adhere to Camarilla rule, have they ever broken any of the Traditions?

13) Do they believe in Gehenna? How do they feel about Thin-bloods, and do they believe they’re a sign of the end times?

Absolutely. Most of them. Respect of Domain and Hospitality. Their existence is a violation first of all. And they killed their sire. Even with permission, that's still a violation of the Traditions.

14) Have they ever Frenzied? What happened?

Not anymore. Its been a long unlife, and it was even longer thinking their own existence would draw the death of their people closer. But, they have learned to shrug off these kind of Noddist teachings. And they don't think the world is going anywhere any time soon.

The moment the Blood Bond broke, they frenzied and drank someone to death out of rage. An innocent person dead because they couldn't keep their cool. Other than that, no. They have kept themself well fed these years. And tht hope to keep it that way.

[floralseokjin]

;of the sol (m)

A runaway, you’re not accustomed to the way the kind village that took you in live their life—worshipping and celebrating the dragons’ descendants. A story you only ever thought was legend, is that of real life, and you’ve fallen in love with one of this century’s dragon kin. The baker’s son, Kim Seokjin.

;or alternatively, Seokjin is hiding a gold dragon dick under all that clothing...

pairing; kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings; (loose) yona of the dawn au, dragon! seokjin, blonde! seokjin, smut; first time, lots of romance, lots of fluff, …...a dragon dick…… (pls give it a chance) words; 13,359

Inspired and semi-based around Yona of the Dawn. (if you have time, I really recommend the anime/manga, it’s amazing!)

⤑ read over on ao3 here

author’s note; can you believe it’s finally here? I could cry happy tears, seeing as this was an idea of mine I had since early February. Their love story was daunting to write because of all the fluff…and well…the dragon dick… The concept sounds a little crazy, but it truly is the sweetest, most romantic thing i’ve ever written, and i’m so happy with it! p.s. I really wanted to link a pic of his ahem… 🐲🍆but I really don’t want to risk this story being flagged anyway haha, so if you’re curious, please message me and i’ll try to attach the pic! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy ~

Kim Seokjin was your knight in shining armour. Quite literally when he found you that night with his father, although you weren’t to know that until a couple of months down the line. It was a peculiar thought to realise you’d been residing in the village of Helios for over a year. Seokjin had taken you to market with him on the anniversary, selling the bread he and his father baked. That was how they had come across you that fateful night, on their way back from trading, finding you slumped against a tree, exhausted and dehydrated. It seemed fitting to remember such an occasion, because ever since that night everything had changed for the better. You had passed the tree on your way to the surrounding villages, lost in sudden thoughts and memories. It seemed so long ago now.

A runaway, you had escaped your gloomy village in despair, unable to stick a moment longer. If you were to die of starvation, you’d rather it be some place else. You had no idea of the outside world, only jumbled tales and fables that were surely fiction, but too scared to ask for shelter, you’d kept on travelling, moving past every village you came across. You knew without Seokjin and his father’s kindness you would have died out there. They could’ve walked past you, surely coming across all types of riffraff whilst traveling, but instead they rushed forward, immediately checking if you were alive. You would never forget the warmth in Seokjin’s hands that night as he cupped your face and searched for life in your eyes.

It was a warmth you were used to, that’s why. These days it was hard to find you apart, his fingers entwined with yours as you walked around the village, enjoying your free time, away from work. The Kim bakery was the heart and soul of Helios and you were honoured to be working there. You were just so honoured to be living in the beautiful village, period. It had taken you a few weeks to heal fully when you first arrived, and you remembered being so scared that you’d be asked to leave once better. You loved it here, everyone was so kind and accommodating. Especially Seokjin’s family, with who you were staying with. It was only him and his parents, a family unit you never had, and as hard as you tried not to, you’d found yourself growing attached to them. You were over the moon when they asked you to stay, enough room for you to live with them in the house next door to their bakery.

You’d began working at Kim’sBakery—so fittingly titled after the family name—gradually. At first it was to help out while Seokjin and his father went off to trade, just his mother and the baker boy left to hold the fort. They were thankful for your aid, and slowly it happened more and more, a day or two here and there turning into hours upon hours a week. You did not mind at all, it was fun having something to do, and in all honesty, you had never had a job before. Your own village was poor and tarnished, population hardly there for work to be profitable. Most people survived by stealing from passing travellers and hunting wild animals in the woods. You were overjoyed when Seokjin’s parents finally sat you down and asked if you’d like to make it official. Now, you worked almost every day except for Sundays when Kim’s Bakery was closed for the holy day.

Helios village didn’t worship just any average God though. It was a dragon. You had heard lots of tales about this land, once home to such beautiful, mystical creatures hundreds and hundreds of years ago who lived amongst the humans. All colours, all sizes, until one day, the King dragon, a beautiful red beast named Airule, the largest one of all, decided he wanted to change six into men, making them the leaders of six respected tribes of freshly built villages. He wanted to bring the land, the Kingdom of Airule, so fittingly named, together. To create harmony and tranquility; a Kingdom which he would rule peacefully.

That was as far as your knowledge had gone, taking it for hearsay and fiction, but alas, you had been naïve, cooped up in your tiny village and unable to explore and travel the rest of the land. It was notfiction, you found that out once residing in Helios. What you thought was legend, was that of real life, and it blew your mind.

Helios was one of the six main villages in this Kingdom. Six villages for six dragons. Long ago it was land to the Sol tribe, the ancestors of today, and its leader was none other than the golden dragon Helios, a name the village had been christened with too. The human form he lived life in had been beyond stunning, drawings passed down through the centuries, alive and well in children’s books used as bedtime tales. He had flowing long blonde hair, golden in the sunlight, a body strong and muscular, and he radiated love and positivity wherever he went. A smile that was contagious, or so you had read. You’d only found that out since your time here, noticing and wondering what the meaning was of the giant golden dragon statue in the middle of the village. Helios’ dragon from was even more beautiful, scales dazzling under the sun.

That was another thing. The village of Helios was always draped in the glow of the sun, leaves on the tree in beautiful shades of rusty orange, and when it rained—enough to keep drought away and crops fresh—you were always blessed with a rainbow. It truly was a beautiful place and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have finally found happiness.

A large part of said happiness was down to one boy. Kim Seokjin. Who just so happened to be the sun dragon’s kin. Unbelievable, implausible. You had no idea there was such a thing until he’d confided in you one evening. He was oddly serious before he explained everything, concerning you, but the truth rendered you speechless. You had no clue there were even such things, but as you looked up at the statue that glowed as the sun set for the day, you listened in earnest.

Born every twenty-five years or so—maybe a lot longer depending on creation, Helios was blessed with a fresh sun kin. It could be passed down father to son, a logical explanation, but if the man created no sons, it could also be at random—the village were all descendants of the dragon after all… The latter was Seokjin’s case. Born just as the old sol kin was at death’s door, with golden hair and sun kissed skin, perhaps at first glance he could pass as any babe birthed in this hearty village. For the rays of the sun beamed down on them all. Only there was one difference. Something that set him apart from the rest. He glowed like the sun itself. Blinding, a beacon, and there was no way of denying it. A new dragon had blessed Helios. A new King was born.

Of course, the blazing light simmered after a few days, but the adoration didn’t. He was visited by every single villager, a ceremony in place to pass down the honour. Gifted things he couldn’t possibly have any use for as a week-old baby, and he’d been worshiped ever since. Twenty-one years of unrelenting love. You had always been curious as to why the village seemed to hang off every word he said. Curious as to why everyone looked at him with such love and devotion. Seokjin was indeed amazing, your short time knowing him had taught you that. He was so kind, so attentive. Voice as gentle as a lamb, but a body built like it could go to war. It all made sense. He had the dragon in him. He wasthe dragon. The children’s books could tell you all you needed to know about the dragon Helios, and it was now obvious, every description was Seokjin. He radiated the positivity this world very much needed, like a light. Like a beacon.

He was telling you all this now, and felt awful for keeping it from you, but you had been the first person to see him as just that: a person. His whole life he’d been placed on a pedestal, and even though the village loved him, and he loved the village, they didn’t treat him like one of them. He was different. A greater being. Above them. With you, he was equal. He wanted to be greedy for a little while, because you made him realise he was a good man. You made your decision without any bias, and it was because of that, he finally had to indulge the truth.

He showed you something. Something unbelievable. Something that surely should be impossible, but it wasn’t. Not when he was of dragon. Granted a gift from Helios himself. Your eyes bulged and your mouth gaped as you watched Seokjin birth a ball of golden light from his palms.How else did you think I found you that night,he’d laughed gently, the orb bouncing around between his hands. And there it was, it all fitted together. Your knight in shining armour.

That wasn’t the first time you felt something different for him, but it was the first time you truly acknowledged it. Stood there, the sun finally set for the day, awing as he let the ball of light bounce around your body. Your eyes met and lingered, and your heart jumped inside your chest.

You had no idea his heart was also beating a little harder for you. He asked you if you would accompany him for a picnic down at lake tomorrow afternoon and you accepted eagerly, unable to sleep well that night, nor work properly the next morning. Your heart wouldn’t stop leaping around as you made your way to the lake, but it momentarily stopped once you saw him lounging on a blanket by the bank. This place was the prettiest in the village, where the sun shined the strongest, and you swear he seemed to glow in the rays.

He hadn’t been in the bakery today, training the baker boy how to trade for days he wasn’t available and you soon pushed your nerves to the back of your mind to ask him how it had gone. Talking with Seokjin was always easy, he had been your friend for a couple of months now, but it was increasingly harder to concentrate with the realisation of your feelings. Now he had confided in you, you only felt a deeper connection, and by the way your bodies leant into one another, you could tell he felt it too.

“Do you ever feel scared?” You asked him, tilting your head, squinting slightly as the sun hit your eyes. You could only imagine the pressure he felt on a daily basis. The kin of a dragon, the village’s heart. It was a lot of strain for a boy barely an adult.

“I do,” he admitted quietly after some thought. He looked you in the eyes, as if he’d decided right then and there to be as truthful as he could. “I often wonder why me? I’m just a son born to a baker. There must be someone worthier.”

“Don’t feel like that,” you insisted, unable to stop yourself when you reached for his hand, soothing it with a squeeze. “I think you’re worthy.” Your voice was but a whisper, suddenly shy.

His nose wrinkled, a lopsided smile itching at his mouth. His smile was always your favourite, but his laugh was a close second. It tinkered in your ears. “You only found out I was part dragon not twenty-four hours ago.”

That made you blush a little, cheeks heating up in embarrassment and you cast your gaze down, eyes catching your hand still atop his. For some reason you couldn’t seem to pull it away. He was correct, before yesterday he had still been human. He wasstill human. There was no difference for you. He was still the same person, and if you thought really hard, if the dragons still had to exist, you couldn’t think of a better person to take the honour. Before you could explain that though, he spoke again.

“Is it stupid that I’ve felt the most at ease with myself since I confided in you?”

Your head shot up at that, surprise in your eyes, just as he slipped his hand from under yours to squeeze it instead. He watched you warily, afraid he’d said something he shouldn’t.

“Not at all,” you reassured him with a small smile. “I’m glad I could help in some way.” You didn’t let him know how warm and happy that made you feel. How hopeful.

Something had changed between you and he since yesterday. It was like you were waiting with bated breath for something. Something exciting, something you’d only let yourself pine for not twenty-four hours ago. You both turned your heads to the sky, watching it in absentminded enjoyment. Your hands stayed together. It felt comforting. It feltright.

“Are there more of you…?” Your curiosity itched at you. It was impossible to sate it. There was so much you wanted to know. A world you had been secluded from for so long. A world you could never have imagined before now. You felt Seokjin’s gaze on and you turned your head to face him again. “Dragons,” you added, eliminating the crease of his brow instantly.

He nodded slowly, turning back to look at the sun. You could tell he felt at ease here. He looked magical. How could you have never known? It radiated from him. “Six more, if legend is correct.”

“Will you ever meet them?” What did they look like? What powers did they hold? It was all too much. You wanted to talk about this forever.

“Probably not.” Seokjin chuckled, shrugging casually. “Airule is vast. Some parts so dangerous not a soul in their right mind would try to cross.” That much was true. The south was tamer in comparison. You’d heard stories about further north, and travelling across the kingdom was near impossible. Wasn’t he a little curious though? To learn more about where he came from… To meet people just like him…

You were so lost in thought you hadn’t realised Seokjin’s attention had turned to you, a small smile on his face. Almost fond. It made your heart skip a beat. That pesky thing. “You take this all in your stride,” he mused. His voice sounded so gentle, fluttered through your body, almost made you want to shut your eyes, to revel in it a little more. A little longer.

You smiled wide, making sure to lock eyes as you spoke. “Maybe I always knew you were special.”

His eyes widened, taken by surprise and he looked away hastily, pink colouring his cheeks as he tried to think of something to say. He couldn’t. Speechless. It was cute. The realisation made you feel all warm inside. More so when he chose to squeeze your hand in reply instead. You acted without much thought, recklessly maybe, but it just felt right. To link your fingers carefully with his. The action made you feel safe. He didn’t pull away. He just squeezed harder.

Yes, something had changed between you two. You were sure of it now. The hope in your chest bloomed until it slightly overwhelmed you, and all you could do was stare out over the lake. The sun had begun to sink a tad. You were relieved when Seokjin spoke again.

“I have more secrets.” He began hesitantly, swallowing before continuing. “Confessions.” You turned your head his direction, watching him carefully. He kept his eyes locked on the sky. “I thought I’d be selfish if I told you, but I can’t keep this silent for any longer…and… and besides,” he chuckled lightly, upturning his shoulder. “I think you wouldn’t mind at all.”

Your heart stopped then. At his words. At his actions, as he turned to face you. To stare you right in the eyes. You knew. You knew what he was about to say.

“I like you.” You gripped his hand tighter, his words overcoming you. Surely this was a dream… However, no. Fate had been kind to you since Seokjin found you. “I’ve fallen for you, and there’s no escape…”

He almost sounded sad, mouth downturned as his gaze fell to his lap. You took that as worry. Worry you didn’t like him back, and you clung to him harder, moving closer. Your shoulders brushed against one another, legs soon after. You wanted to touch him some more. You wanted to never let him go. You wanted him to be yours.

“Seokjin…” You breathed, hot air hitting his cheek. He closed his eyes, like he couldn’t bear to see you this close. Feelyou this close. “You know I like you too.”

His next breath was shaky. It left him like he was almost afraid, but he fluttered his eyes open again. They pooled with sincerity. His tone of voice the same. “You see me for me.”

Why did he seem so shocked? What else would you see him for? You couldn’t help but slowly reach for his face with your free hand, cupping the soft flesh of his cheek. He fell into your touch.

“Even now, after you know the truth you don’t treat me differently. You’re not melodramatic, feverish…” You giggled at that. The girls that seemed to flock him every time he appeared at the bakery didn’t go unnoticed to you. Maybe it was the jealousy, not that you would ever admit that out loud, but it was incredibly obvious that most of the women of Helios had an enthusiastic reaction to him because of who he was… Although, what he looked like sure helped things too… He was beautiful. Maybe he didn’t see that…

Your giggle died down when he wrinkled his nose, still lost in thoughts of his own. “…Disgusted…”

That was absurd. Impossible. He was talking nonsense, and you wanted to kiss it from his mouth. To abolish such foolish thoughts. You carefully slipped your fingers from his, and he went to chase them on instinct, stopping when he felt your hand clasp the back of his neck, locking him place. You tilted your head to press your forehead against his. He took another shaky breath.

“I think you’re amazing.”

You were taken by surprise when he wrapped his arm around your waist, embracing you intimately as his other hand toyed in the locks of your hair. His next breath sounded like a relieved sigh. You carried on. Finding it easy to confess.

“Always have. Even more so now.” He watched you pause and smile with curiosity. “Seokjin, I can’t fight it any longer.”

It seemed like you both couldn’t. Your breathes mingling together. The warmth of your body heat merging also. Your eyes closed the same time your mouths met, and you knew right then, right there, you had never felt happier. It was like you were born to experience this moment. Born to feel the plush of his lips against yours. Born to taste the sweetness of his tongue.

You had dreamed about your first kiss since you were a child, long before the harsh realities of life became apparent, and over time the small act seemed stupid and insignificant. Meeting Seokjin had made you wonder once again… Nerves were nonexistent, not when it concerned the boy in front of you. It was just natural.

He was a gentle kisser. Gentle and kind, just like himself, and you only stopped momentarily to catch your breath and tell him the most important thing of all. The last thing that needed to be shared.

“I’m glad you found me.”

He smiled, lips kiss bitten—your doing, a realisation that made your face burn semi- innocently—and stroked your cheeks, thumbs circling the apples, agreeing wholeheartedly before he was closing the distance once more.

The murmur of your name sounded against your sticky mouth as Seokjin tried to pull back. He moved almost hesitantly, reluctantly, because you knew he didn’t want to stop. However, he did manage to break away enough to rush out more words, a breathless chuckle leaving him too. “Let us catch our breath, my love.”

You pouted instantly, crushing him to you as you rolled him onto his back. He let you without little resistance. You wouldn’t be able to do it otherwise. “I don’t want to,” you whined, catching his lips with yours again.

Kissing Seokjin was addictive. With each passing month, week, day, it was getting harder and harder to control yourself. The burning need in your body needed to be satisfied. You’d surely blow up if not. You’d been happily courting for over ten months now, and despite enjoying the content feeling, the safe feeling when it came to having him in your life—not only romantically, but he was your friend too—there was just something missing… Lover.

Even the word made made you heat up, cheeks ablaze, palms turning sweaty. You were in love with each other, you told that to one another every single day, so logically there was one last step to go… You wanted him. You wanted him to make love to you.

Frowned upon by the elders, consummating such a relationship was near impossible to do. You had to make use of stolen moments like these, in your bedroom, when you were both free from the bakery, Seokjin’s father out to trade with the baker boy, Seokjin’s mother busy baking in the kitchen. This afternoon was the perfect opportunity, they weren’t given to you often, but Seokjin… Seokjin was always hesitant to take it to the next level.

“W-we should stop.” He tried again. This time turning his head when you tried to chase his kiss instinctively. He averted his gaze too, almost refusing to look you in the eyes. However, his mouth was parted, breathing shallow. He couldn’t hide how affected he was. What was he running from?

“Seokjin,” you insisted with a sigh. “I really do not mind.” If he felt guilty, there was no need. You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. His irises were almost black, pupils blown out double their size. The carnal urge inside you roared, but your voice stayed softly sweet. “I knowhow much you love me.”

He shook his head as best he could. “It’s taking advantage.”

“Of what?” You laughed loudly. “Don’t be so silly.” There was no such thing as taking advantage. Not when your love for Seokjin was concerned. Besides, was it so bad? In the end you both wanted to take advantage of one another. The itch for a pleasure unimaginable incessant. You gripped his face harder, so close your mouth brushed against his as you murmured more clandestine confessions. “I want you. So bad.” His lips moved like he couldn’t control it. Capturing your bottom lip to tug softly downwards. Your heart jumped, just like something between your legs. This was torture.

A groan tore from your throat as your neck fell back. “Kim Seokjin, you drive me crazy.”

“Likewise.” He agreed, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before he closed his eyes. He looked beautiful lying on your bed, blonde hair fluffed out against the pillows. He truly was out of this world. A painting. Your body and heart were near to bursting.

“So. Let us give way to sin. Isn’t that what they say?” You urged, clinging to his shirt to tug at him almost petulantly.

He sighed gently, long fingers circling your wrists, stilling your motions. The action was stern enough to make you stop in your tracks. “You speak without thought.” He murmured. It somehow caused your cheeks to flush, embarrassment settling uncomfortably in your chest.

You let him carefully sit you upright, with him following until you slid to the side to let him bring his legs out from under you. His feet hit the floor. Gentle, but it was a thud to your ears. His back was to you now. “I should go back next door. See if they need me.”

“They don’t.” You couldn’t help but try one last time, even though his rejection was heavy in your heart. Your hand landed on his shoulder clumsily, attempting to stop him from rising. You didn’t miss the way he stiffened. “Seokjin…” You barely whispered, voice filled with concern. It even wobbled, so you swallowed, hardening your exterior. If there was one thing this life had taught you, it was to always act braver than you were—than you felt.

You tried again. “Don’t you want me like that?”

Seokjin whipped around immediately, horror in his eyes and tone as he spoke. “Of course I do!” He clasped your hands tightly. Almost a little tootightly, as if he needed you to understand.

“Then what’s the problem?” You begged quietly. You needed to know. If it was because he wanted to wait, that was fine with you, of course it was. However, from the way he was acting right now—the way he’d been acting every time he stopped you short—it was something more than that. The anguish on his face right now told you that. He looked pained, beside himself as he battled an internal dilemma raging inside his mind.

Finally, he spoke. Voice tiny, gaze unable to hold yours as he looked down at your clasped hands. He opened his mouth, stopped himself and then let go of you, tugging at his cotton trousers instead. He tried again. “You won’t want me when you see the truth.”

“See the truth?” You puzzled after a tiny pause. You wanted to reach out to him but you were too scared. Nothing made any sense.

He shook his head, eyes closed as he scoffed pitifully. “I really should go…”

“Seokjin.” Your voice was gentle, tender, as you tried to let him know everything was alright. Whatever he was afraid of, he didn’t need to be. Whatever it was he was keeping from you, you would not stop loving him, wantinghim. He looked up, blinking slowly as he gazed into your eyes. You had never seen him look so scared. Seokjin, your Seokjin, who was always so bright and brave. You continued, desperate to make your voice reassuring. “Tell me. We promised no secrets.”

He looked at you still, as if he was contemplating his options. You watched him shift, and for a split second you were half expecting him to bolt. Instead he averted his gaze yet again.

“Okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “When I was born…” You waited patiently, the unexpected wrenching you with worry. Silence felt like it dragged on for eternity until he finally continued. “There was a…deformity…”

The word seemed to taste foul in his mouth, lips downturned in a grimace. Your heart skipped a beat, shock and confusion rooting inside you. Whatever it was you expected him to say, it was not that.“The dragon’s gift came with a curse.” He sounded bitter. Pained and bitter.

‘Where?” You wondered loudly, unable to stop yourself. “What are you speaking about? I have never seen anything…”

He shook his head again. “It’s not visible right now.” He sounded weak, speech stunted as he tried to lock eyes with you once again. “We dragon kin possess powers.”

He was struggling and you tried to help, edging a hand closer to his atop his thigh. His body was still half twisted away from you, and you wanted him to relax, lie back again, assure you he wasn’t going anywhere… wasn’t leaving you. You nodded earnestly. “Yours, light to darkness.”

“Mhm.” He tried to agree passively, pulling at a loose thread on his trousers. “But we also have physical traits too.” He was slow again, cautious. “Scales. Limbs. Tails…” Your eyes widened, the news a shock. He had never told you that, which made you wonder what his physical defect was… “Mine is much…” He stopped to grimace, physically disgusted. “Mine is vile.” He spat the word. You felt the hate behind it.

You rushed to hold his hand, unable to hear him talk like this. “Seok—

“Embarrassing. Inhuman.” He cut you off, his brain now going in to overdrive. Like he couldn’t stop. He pushed your hand away, looking at you gravely. “You don’t understand.” He was anguished, sorrowful, humiliated. “It stops me from showing you how much I love you…”

Your brow furrowed, trying to make sense of his words, and then ever so slowly everything began to get clearer. Your hand fell limp to the side of his leg, eyes grazing down his torso and into his lap. Stops him from showing…That could only mean one thing. How he’d been reluctant to take your courtship further. Why he’d been reluctant… Physical traits.That’s what he’d just said, so what did that mean? Scales… You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but what? He still hadn’t told you exactly what was wrong. You felt wrong for even guessing such a thing, but by the look in his eyes, you knew your assumption was correct.

“You’ve guessed.” He finally confirmed solemnly. “I’m so sorry. I kept this from you when I shouldn’t have, but how do I dare tell anyone?”

You wanted to reassure him straight away. To tell him not to be silly. However, your head was spinning, trying to make sense of such a baffling thought. Shock was still sparked in your body, and it showed on your face.

“Won’t they see me as a monster?” He continued, almost like he was asking himself. You caught his eye as he looked up. “Do you see me as a monster?”

“Seokjin, no,” you gasped immediately. This time when you cupped his hand he didn’t pull away. You seemed to catch him by surprise. He was surprised you weren’t repulsed by him? That poor boy. What did he think he was? You knew right then and there, that this piece of new information didn’t change a thing between you and him. He needed to understand. “Seokjin, you’re not a monster.” You insisted, but he shook his head adamantly.

“Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have let this go on for so long. Not when I knewit would end like this.”

End? You panicked. What was ending? “This is silly.” Your voice was shrill when filled with the reality of loosing Seokjin. Why was he acting like this was over? Nothing had changed. Why couldn’t he see that? Why couldn’t he listen to you?

You reached for his face instead, clasping his cheeks so hard he’d surely get pressure marks. “Seokjin, you’re being silly. Let’s talk some more. Tell me everything, so I can understand better.” You were pleading, eyes wide, filling with tears.

“There is no point,” he half-wailed, wrenching from your grip. “Don’t you see? There’s nothing to understand, other than I’m a monster to you.”

“No,” you uttered, ears burning, not wanting to hear this nonsense.

“If you saw, you’d realise.” His voice was low, unlike anything you’d ever heard before. Almost like a warning.

“You are definitely not anything of the sort!” You were near to shouting, desperate for him to listen to you. What would it take for him to believe you? You went to reach for him again. “You’re—

“I need to go.” He raised his voice. Louder than yours, and pulled back from your hands, standing to the floor.

“No,” you cried, your fingers managing to catch in the loose fabric of his shirt, tugging as tight as you could. His hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

“I wantto go.” He whispered. Voice tight, eyes pooling with tears that threatened to spill any moment. That just broke your heart even more. “I want to be alone. I’m sorry.”

He let go of your wrist and you loosened your grip on him, hand dropping to the bed. What choice did you have? You needed to respect his wishes. He stepped back immediately, turning from you as he flew to the door.

“I’m sorry for everything,” was the last thing he said as he shut it behind him.

That night you couldn’t sleep a wink. Once the tears had come, they couldn’t stop for the whole evening. That was your first argument. If you could call it that. Neither of you were angry at one another. At least you thought Seokjin wasn’t mad at you. Mad at himself it seemed, yes. Ashamed, mortified? They both seemed fitting too. Even though he had no need.

Your head buzzed. Trying to make sense of the little information you had. Your imagination could have never fathomed such a thing, so it was finding it hard to do so right now, but gradually, and as the sun began to rise, throwing Helios into a dim glow, the shock wore off. It didn’t change a thing.

It didn’t change anything at all. You were positive. You still loved Seokjin just as much as you had moments before his cryptic revelation. You were even… No, you couldn’t think that…but… Your hunger for him still ached away at you. It was fierce now, because he’d finally acknowledged something deeper between you two. He felt it too. It stops me from showing you how much I love you… He’dsaid that. He wanted you too. However, he was afraid you wouldn’t want him when you found out the truth.

You were torn. Feeling too many emotions at once. Your need for him, but also your sorrow. Your heart ached. He had lived with this secret for twenty-one years. Living his life under the assumption it would be alone. He was the apple of the village’s eye, but in his eyes, he harboured a nasty secret. He thought he was a monster, and that just broke your heart.

He was nothing of the sort. The kindest, gentlest man you’d ever met, and nothing would change that. It was about what was on the inside, not a physical deformity.

Shamefully, just with all this thinking, you pulsed underneath the sheets. Curiosity itched away at you, wondering what he looked liked. If only he knew. Would he be disgusted? Or would he realise that you didn’t mind at all? Nothing he could tell you could make you love him less. Make you want him less… You needed to talk to him. Needed to make him understand.

However, the next day brought busy work. You were in the bakery all day, rushed off your feet and Seokjin had been out with his father since 7am, visiting the nearing village. You’d seen him in passing this morning, but he’d paid little attention to you, refusing to meet your eyes when you’d politely greeted him good morning as he left the dining table. You’d carried on your day with a heavy heart and when they still hadn’t arrived back to catch supper, you’d made your way to bed with an even heavier one, stomach empty with loss of appetite. Perhaps Seokjin’s mother knew something was wrong, but she didn’t bring it up, wishing you a good night’s sleep with a kiss to your cheek.

You’d been lying in bed, wide awake, for an hour when you’d finally heard the tell-tale noises of his arrival back home. He and his father always tried to be as silent as possible, but the stairs creaked when they tip-toed up them and you could hear them bid goodnight to one another. You thought you may be able to sleep then, relieved he’d come home safe, but the need to see him pained you. You couldn’t spend another night like this. Tomorrow may be busier, a Saturday. You had never not said a word to one another for longer than a few hours…

You waited another thirty minutes, careful to make sure his parents had enough time to fall sound asleep, before you got out of bed, creeping out the door and down the hallway. Seokjin’s bedroom was right at the end and thankfully his mother and father resided the opposite. They’d collapse of heart failure if they found out what you were doing, but you couldn’t feel guilty now. You needed to see your boyfriend.

His door was slightly ajar, and any worry you had of him possibly being asleep disintegrated when you saw the glow of his oil burner in the dark. You lightly tapped on the wood, hoping he could hear you. When you were met with silence, you whispered his name. Another silence, and then he whispered yours back, question in his tone. You took that as an invite, quietly pushing the door open and slipping inside.

Seokjin was sitting up in bed, cheesecloth sleepshirt threaded loose across his chest and shoulders. His blonde hair laid across his forehead, having brushed it for the night and he had his diary in his lap, open has he wrote. You opened your mouth to apologise for interrupting him, but he beat you to it.

“Are you angry at me?” He looked worried, eyes wide as he leaned forward, discarding the diary atop his nightstand.

You shook your head firmly. “Never.”

“But I lied to you.” He sounded confused. Voice small, eyebrows knitted together.

“You have never lied to me.” Seokjin was an honest man. He may have hidden things from you, but they were not lies. He was just scared to disclose the truth. However, he needn’t be. Nothing had changed.

“Please,” you begged softly, taking a step closer to the foot of his bed. “I need you. Can you just hold me right now?”

He watched you, seemingly in a little shock. Whatever he expected your reaction to be at his news, it was clearly not this, but he nodded slowly, stretching his arms out to when you began to crawl up the bed. You latched onto his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. He clung on to you just as hard, burying his face into your hair and taking a relieved breath. You could have stayed like that all night, but soon enough you found yourself under the sheets with him, curled into his body, head cushioned by his chest as he ran his fingers through your locks.

“If my parents find you out of your bed…” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. You buried your face into him, filling your nostrils with his scent as you closed your eyes. You felt ten times lighter. Dramatic maybe, but you were so glad to be back in his arms. For the whole day you’d been scared that would never happen again…

“They’re asleep. I waited,” you reassured him. He didn’t say anything in reply, fingers never stilling as he soothed the strands down your back. You lifted your head a tad, looking up at him before placing a kiss on his chest. Your lips caught the gaps of his skin, visible through the threaded laces. You wanted to kiss every inch of him. “I don’t like not speaking with you.”

“Likewise.” His smile was sad, voice gentle. He cupped your face now, thumb caressing circles. “I’m so terribly sorry. I was… ashamed yesterday.” He looked away as he finished, still obviously embarrassed by the memory. “Still am.” He added, chuckling softly. “But you can’t see my cheeks burn in this dim lighting.”

Your eyes met for a second and you couldn’t help but giggle along too. Seeing him joke around was relieving. You shuffled closer to him, face now level with his as you took it in your palms. “You never have to be ashamed.” You whispered. “Ever.” You watched for a reaction. Instead he closed his eye, visibly struggling with your words. What would it take to make him believe you? If only he could open up more…

“Seokjin,” you began carefully, and ever so slowly he fluttered his eyelids open. His large eyes glassy. “If you love me, you have to explain everything to me. I’m owed that.”

“I already did,” he croaked.

You pulled back, giving him some room, but also because you were about to ask something that made you grow hot, cheeks blushed. “You…” You shook your head, beginning again. “You have…” However, try as you might, you could not finish, gaze falling down his body instead, hidden by the sheets.

Perhaps he misunderstood your hesitation though, because he sounded forlorn when he replied. “Yes. I do.” How was he supposed to know that your body desired him just as strongly as yesterday? You almost felt ashamed, knowing he was so distressed, but you couldn’t help it. If only he understood… Would it make him feel better?

“I’m not human when it comes to that,” he continued, shaking your hands from his face. His hand fell to the mattress, too shamed to touch you.

“I don’t care,” you pleaded, clutching a hold of his shirt instead. You had gotten so passionate you were now kneeled over his body, begging him to listen to you. “Seokjin, I still want to be with you. I love you. I don’t give a damn.” You were shaking him, forgetting to keep your voice down.

He firmly circled your wrists with his fingers, stilling you, and your voice broke off with a cry, scared and panicked. You couldn’t lose him. Not after everything you’d been through in your life. He was your one happiness. Your light in the once never-ending darkness.

“My parents were so happy when I told them about us,” he began almost wistfully. His voice was so gentle it caught you off guard, and you relaxed your body, feeling him entwine his fingers with yours. “To finally see their son so joyous and in love…” Your chest swelled, wanting to hold him some more, but then his expression fell. “But they also know the truth. They’re the only ones who do. Imagine birthing a child to be met with such horror.”

“Shush,” you quickly rushed, letting go of his hands to grip his face. “Don’t say such things.” How could he think himself a monster when he was the most gentle, loving man around? Could he not see the real him? Could he not look in a mirror and see the truth? He was blinded by his disgust for himself. It had tainted his life since he was old enough to understand.

“They’re nervous of it ending. Just like I am.” He continued, barely there, hushed under his breath. The word endscared you beyond belief, only dispelling when you felt his large hands grip around yours, holding you to him tightly. “But I don’t want to let you go.” He sounded desperate, broken. Almost like he was begging. It cut at your heart. “I love you too much.”

“Then don’t!” Your faces were so close by now, noses crushed up against one another as you pleaded. Both teary eyed, both so hopelessly in love with one another. “You don’t have to. I won’tlet you.”

“How can I ever love you properly?” He cried out, voice breaking as he tried to keep quiet. “Satisfyyou?” He sounded tormented. Like this was all he’d been thinking about. You felt a flood of guilt wash over you. All this time, ever kiss and touch you secretly shared together. While you craved and hinted for more, he was tortured, under the impression you would never love him the same again if you knew the truth. For months he hid, thinking he couldn’t give you what you wanted. No matter how much he wanted it too.

None of that mattered now. You needed him to know that wasn’t important. What wasimportant was your love for him, and his love for you. “You already love me as best as humanly possible, because that is what you are.” You pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes. “Human.” Not a monster. “This heart that beats,” you signalled, reaching one hand between your bodies and covering his chest. The muscle beat under your palm hard. “It’s all human.”

He let out a tiny sigh, almost like he’d been holding his breath. Your words sent a relief through him, and one of his hands laced through your hair at the back of your head, holding you close. Your breaths mingled with one another. You slightly out of breath, desperate to make him see, and his shallow, listening as you continued.

“You just have the blessing of Helios inside you. It shines bright, and I couldn’t think of a better man for the job.” He let you pull back to look him in the eyes. This time he didn’t look away. He shone right now, you swore it. He was of the sun. A gift. Your gift.

“Seokjin,” you murmured, unable to stay away from his mouth a moment longer. “I love you.” His lips were warm and soft. The instant comfort that you’d longed for all day. He felt like home. You’d never had one of those until you met him. You pulled back slowly, mouth parting to tell him one last importance. “I love you no matter what you hide, and I am so lucky to have met you.”

He made a noise as he reached for your mouth hastily; one of relief and happiness. It rumbled as his lips touched yours and you whimpered, because it seemed like you’d finally gotten through to him. This time he kissed you without hesitation, without something to say, and you felt the difference instantly. His tongue eagerly swiped across your bottom lip, delicate but restless, and you parted instantly, your muscles meeting, caressing one another.

He clutched your cheek tighter, rising his head before he began to sit up. “I love you too,” he rushed, and before you could take another breath, you were pushed on your back, his large body twisting to crawl over yours. His legs kicked the sheets away, crumpled to the bottom of the mattress, and the bed frame groaned under the sudden movement, but Seokjin was too distracted to notice. He cupped your face with both hands now, words pressed tight against your lips. “So, so much.” You were too breathless to reply.

After he was done chasing your mouth, he found your jaw, kissing hot trails towards the sensitive flesh of your neck. This was a new feeling altogether, your skin erupting with goosebumps, each breath turning into little shallow gasps. When his hands began to caress your sides, you felt as if your heart was beating outside of your body. It drummed manically, alive only to the sensation of his touch. How long had your body craved for this? Imagining what it would feel like to have his hands on you like this? Even his touch above the material of your bodice was enough to suffice. You felt him everywhere, his palms burning their way to the skin. A moan slipped from his lips when he found the swell of your breasts, kissing them like he had been kissing your mouth for months. His tongue slipped between your cleavage, your eyes closing, basking silently in the pleasure until you felt his palms cupping the soft flesh and they flew open again.

“Seokjin,” you breathed, hands running along his large shoulders. He kissed up your chest, peppering your throat in kisses until he found your lips again. He was out of breath, moving without direction, like he couldn’t stay still for long enough to think clearly. His thumbs found where your nipples were, hidden beneath the cotton and they hardened under the pads magically. You were beginning to get aroused, much more aroused than you’d ever been before. It coloured your cheeks. They felt hot. Like they were burning.

“You’re so beautiful,” he got out. Voice an octave lower, gruff. It shot up your legs, finding home beneath your nightgown. “I want to kiss every inch of you. I want to see how beautiful you are bare. I want to hold you. Touch you. Feel you.”

You felt like you were drowning. Either that or going crazy. You were beside yourself, squirming underneath him, his body heat seeping into yours, causing your head to go giddy. If you died right now, you’d go happy. You would want to see the whole thing out, of course, but with how fast the blood was coursing through your body right now, who knew if you’d blow up…

Beside himself also, you felt his hands reach under your nightgown, gripping the underside of your thighs. His palms were clammy and hot, and the contact made you jerk into him; new and exciting. He didn’t stay there for long though, a strangled noise leaving him as he fumbled over your body, unable to keep still for his greed took over.

“I cannot hold back any longer,” he admitted almost embarrassingly, fingers playing with the lace of your bodice. They shook and you clasped them in your own.

“Then don’t.” You whispered.

Your gaze was unwavering, speaking unsaid words, expressing your desire, and a moment later he was hastily unlacing you. Your lips met in a frenzy, your fingers helping his as he freed your chest from its confines. When he felt your soft breasts against his hands he had to pull away, jaw slack, eyes unblinking as he drunk the image up. You kissed at his nose, his cheeks, his open mouth, giggling quietly at his reaction.

“Can I kiss them?” He requested, all but a breath, and you nodded quickly, bracing yourself, but never ready for when his tongue delicately brushed against your left nipple. You arched your back, chasing the feeling, wanting more, and he engulfed the flushed peak between his lips, caressing it with the tip of his tongue. The stimulation was making your toes curl, his sheet sliding off the bed as you jerked your leg and moaned sweetly. He liked that, working wider strokes of his tongue until he was kissing your breast like he would your mouth. His right hand reached for your forgotten breast, kneading the flesh, his thumb circling the hard bud. There was the most scorching burn between your legs, and Seokjin’s weight against your body did nothing for it. It just made it blaze harder.

“Is this alright?” He asked, pulling away slowly, mouth all sticky, lips shining in the muted glow of the oil lamp. He looked golden in this light, the shadow of the flames flickering across his face as he kneeled straight, hands cupping your sides tightly, as if he needed to anchor himself down.

You wondered if you looked as beautiful as he did? He was looking at you as if you did. You wanted to look even more bewitching… Nodding your reply you carefully began to rise. Seokjin had no other choice but to move back, letting you sit on your knees. He watched in silence as you took the hem of your nightgown in your hands, eyes wide and mesmerised when you began to lift it up, shimmying it over your hips and up your torso. It freed from your shoulders easily, and there was a moment of darkness as it covered your face, and then it was gone, dropped to floor, in which you hoped was seductively.

You both kneeled before one another, you bare, except for the cotton underwear that hid your innocence. It throbbed so hard you were shocked Seokjin couldn’t notice, but he was too distracted, drinking in the sight before him like you were a painting. Your eyes met, and and you felt no shame, only love. So much love it overwhelmed you, gripped at your lungs, squeezed at your heart. You were moaning in relief when his mouth flew at yours, clutching him tight around the neck as your bodies pressed against one another.

He moaned too. It didn’t sound real, but such a beautiful sound could only come from such a beautiful young man, so it was yours to hear, and yours only. When you finally drew apart, he clutched your jaw, mouth open, breath heavy, eyes unfocused and blown out. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He told you, shaking his head a little to correct himself. “Willever lay eyes on.” His gaze travelled down between your bodies, a sweet sigh leaving him. “There is so much I want to do to you…”

Something in your abdomen began to flip around, his words affecting your body until you were trembling something chronic. However, there was something else that needed to be done before you could even think about being so selfish. You brought one of your hands over his shoulder, running it down his chest until you stopped at the centre, gripping the cloth in your fist. “Please undress too.”

He looked at you quietly at first, as if he was contemplating it. You didn’t want to rush him at all, nor force him into a situation he felt uncomfortable with, but he seemed just as desperate as you, and after all, there was so much youwanted to do to him too… With a resolute nod he let go of your face, placing one sweet, lingering kiss on your mouth with a smile before he moved to slip his nightshirt off. You had never had the pleasure of seeing Seokjin shirtless. Although this summer had been incredibly hot, he was considerably modest—which made perfect sense now—and he’d rather swelter in the heat than cool down with one easy motion. It was all worth the wait now.

Seokjin was built so large, that had been one of the first thing you’d noticed when you’d initially met him, but his bare torso was a sight to behold. His skin almost glistened in the flamed light, and he looked so divine you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and caressing him. He was hard too, chest firm beneath your palm as you dragged one across slowly. The other ran along his shoulder, gently massaging the muscle. Your mouths met again, you just couldn’t get enough. It felt like you were only breathing properly when you kissed one another. He wrapped his arms around your middle, holding you close, your bare chests pressed against one another. His skin was boiling. You found yourself on your back again, head cushioned by his pillow, hair pushed out like a halo. He pulled back on his heels, taking the opportunity to stare down at your naked body laid out on his bed. You ran your fingers down his stomach, stopping at the waistband of his breeches.

“More,” you whispered, begging him with your eyes. You felt his body freeze up. “Please.”  You added. You wanted terribly to show him how perfect he was. “I want to see. There is nothing in this world that could make my love go away.”

That seemed to comfort him, and even though there was still fear in his eyes, his hands moved to the buttons along his crotch. “Promise?” He asked, voice small.

You nodded firmly. “I swear on my life.”

That was all he needed, and you watched with bated breath and a drumming heart as he began to unfasten his trunks. He believed you. He trusted you. You were overwhelmed with love again, struggling with how to express it all at once. You would spend your whole life doing so, you were sure of it.

You kept silent as he stepped out of the garment, even when you grew surprised at the bounds of woven gauze wrapped around his groin. You had not been expecting the great lengths he had to take in order to keep it concealed. Whether he needed to, or whether it was because he couldn’t bear to look at it himself… You hated to think it was the latter.  

“I…” He trailed off, fingers visibly shaking as he found the end of the cotton, fiddling with it as it loosened. “I have to hide it well.”

He sounded embarrassed and you hated it, sitting up to console him.  “It’s okay,” you murmured, catching his fingers with yours. You held on for a while, looking up at him with a small smile, waiting for him to return it. When he did timidly, your heart swelled. “I love you, Seokjin. So much.”

He nodded his head, perhaps to give himself confidence, because he soon dropped your hand to your side, busying himself with the gauze again and ever so slowly he began to unbind himself. With each layer that fell you could make out the obvious bulge that laid in the middle. You were not so innocent. His arousal was a lot harder to hide than yours…

“Is it not painful wrapped so tight?” You couldn’t help but ask, worry colouring your tone.

“A little,” he admitted bashfully.

As he got closer your mouth parted in awe. There were small golden scales that trailed up the right side of his groin, along his hip and upwards, trailing off as they hit his stomach. These didglisten in the light, and you just had to touch them, following the scatter with the tip of your fingers. Seokjin’s breath hitched, stilling momentarily to look down at you. “They’re beautiful,” you said, voice hushed.

He smiled gently at you. The fear was still in his eyes, but so was a warmth. He knew you loved him unconditionally, and despite his reservations, he carried on, unwrapping the last of the woven fabric before he dropped it to the mattress.

“Oh.” You let out, blinking a few times at the sight before you.

He took your silence as a fear for the worst, panicking as he pulled back from you, your hand on his hip falling to your side. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—

“You’re beautiful,” you interrupted him, reaching for both his hips this time as you held him still. You should have said something immediately, but you were speechless. Astounded by the beauty. He let you study him, but kept his eyes trained to the wall in front of him. You could hear his heart pounding from here. You didn’t want him to feel ashamed.

“Gold,” you breathed. For reasons unknown, you had not been expecting such a sight. Yes, he had told you he was cursed but really speaking, you had no clue how. You could never have fathomed this. It was golden, just as you saw him. He really was the sun, and there was nothing hideous about him. He was beautiful.

It stood from his body, distended from arousal and its entrapment. Tip pointed and a slit that seemed to be leaking some type of clear substance that made it shimmer even more. The length was a little intimidating, but that may have been down to your inexperience. Smooth and curved, three ridges followed the tip until a larger one hit the base, bulbous and veiny. Under his member sat his scrotum, equally as golden. The scales that speckled his hip started at the groin, no faint hair in sight, but they also travelled down his left leg, at the inside of his thigh, stopping midway.

You had never seen another manhood, so logically speaking, this was no matter. You had nothing to compare it to. You would now neverwant to compare something so breathtakingly beautiful. The sight had you in awe, but he didn’t seem to notice, squirming in your grip. Trying to get free, trying to hide.

“Seokjin, look at me,” you implored, reaching for his waist as you knelt too, desperate to get as near eye level as you could. You clung to his face, kissing his mouth, but his arms lie limp at his sides. “Seokjin…” You started, taking his hands to drag him down over your body.

“Come here.” He complied, body almost sagging, and once he’d lowered enough you flipped him, straddling his chest. You found his face again, kissing his mouth open, desperately, your breathing getting louder.

“You’re beautiful. Perfect.Please don’t be ashamed.” You pleaded. He didn’t say anything in reply, but you felt his hands behind your thighs, holding you in place. His tongue peeked out of his mouth, delicately laving yours with each caress of your mouth. You pulled back to catch a look of his face, and you were pleased to see his gaze was on yours now.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “For everything.”

“You never have to hide with me,” you smiled back, lowering your body to his thighs. As you did so, your hand accidently brushed against his member. It was the lightest of touches, but his bottom half jerked upwards, a strangled cry leaving him.

You froze, eyes wide. You wondered if you should apologise, confused by his reaction. Confused altogether. Your stomach lurched as you thought back. He had felt so smooth, like marble, but soft, and so warm. Bravely, you ran your hand over his length again, with purpose this time, watching his face for reactions. His plush lips parted, swollen and pink from your stolen kisses, and a beautiful sigh left him. It sounded like your name. It wasyour name.

“Does that feel good?” You questioned, voice high-pitched with excitement. You didn’t give him time to reply, wrapping your fist around the thickest part of the shaft—the part you guessed had most the feeling. He jerked forward again. You could feel him pulse against your palm. “I want to make you feel good,” you murmured determinedly.

He moaned in response, too overcome for words at that precise moment. All he seemed to do was rock his hips into your hold, almost as if he was trying to create friction. You acted on the spot, sliding your fist up the ridged flesh. He let out a sigh of relief, and you moved back, repeating the action slowly.  

“Yes, it feels so good.” He finally replied, voice strained. “It feels more than good.” This time a small chuckle fell from his lips. It was music to your ears. “I’ve never…” He stopped to swallow, and you crouched lower over his body, blood rising to the surface of your skin when you felt his hands slide up your buttocks, shaping the flesh in his palms gently. Everything about him was gentle, and it only made you love him more.

He tried again. “I’ve never done this… felt this…” You could tell he was feeling bashful at his confession, so you shushed him with your mouth, kissing him sweetly, lovingly. It made you sad to know he had hidden from his body—from who he was—for so long. Sad to know he was that disgusted with himself… How tortured he must have felt every time you kissed him so brazenly… Bound like he had been, fit to burst. How much willpower did one man have?

“Let me do anything you want,” you whispered. You wanted to make him feel the divine like pleasure an orgasm brought. “Faster?” You prompted, beginning to rake your palm a lot quicker. He moaned in response, head pushing back into the pillow, his thick neck on show. His fingers dug into your buttocks now. It helped with the ache between your legs.

You were getting greedy, chasing his reactions. His cheeks flushed, just like the rest of him; patches of red scattering his neck and chest. It was odd to see him so rosy when he was always so golden. The only thing that was gold now, was his throbbing member in your hand. The crests ran along your palm as you moved, and bravely you curled your thumb over the slit of the tip, dampening the pad with the clear substance that continued to leak from it. He jerked his hips once more, a groan leaving him. It didn’t sound human. You repeated. Every time your fist hit the head you circled what you now understood as the most sensitive part of him.

You knew he couldn’t take anymore when one of his hands gripped around your wrist, panicking, blurting your name to get you to stop. However, you didn’t. This sensation was new to him, overwhelming. He had no idea what was happening, probably scared, but you knew. You knewhe was close. His stomach clenched as he writhed around. It only took two more runs of your palm, and then he was stilling, a quiet, drawn out moan leaving his throat.

His length convulsed, and you looked down in time to see the spurts of white stain his abdomen, rising up and down with his pants. It speckled across his golden scales, painted him even more beautiful. You let go of him immediately, throwing yourself into his arms.

“Oh, oh.” He was still out of breath, trembling as he wrapped his arms around your body, kissing you messily. “I love you.” His chest heaved, and he sounded drunk. You couldn’t help but giggle as you pulled away to peek at him. He looked sinful, spread naked in front of your feasting eyes, not a care in the world now that a part of his soul had left his body, manhood growing slightly limp against his stained stomach.

“We need something to clean you up with,” you continued to giggle, aware your cheeks were practically burning, unable to stop soaking in the view.

“Use my shirt,” he muttered, dazed.

“Your shirt?” You exclaimed, putting a hand to your mouth when you realised how loud you’d been. You both needed to remember you weren’t alone in this house. You couldn’t get found out.

“Mhm.” He confirmed. “I’ll wash it in the lake tomorrow.”

You laughed again in disbelief, but obeyed, finding the garment in a heap at the end of the bed. You straddled him again, sopping up the arousal on his body. He helped you, capturing your lips with his in the process and soon enough you were distracted. You felt him drop the shirt to the floor as his tongue delicately opened your mouth, arms winding around your waist.

“Do you want to stop?” You wondered out loud, breathless and trembling. Your body longed for some relief, but you did not want to be unfair. He could be near exhaustion now.

“No,” he exclaimed, coughing to clear his throat. “Not at all.” He gripped your hips as you sat on his stomach, a light shining in his eyes. He was almost like an excited puppy. “I want this night to last forever.”

You smiled at that, touched by his words and wholeheartedly agreeing. Ever so lightly, you felt his fingers trace the waistband of your underwear, lids turning heavy as he cast his gaze upwards to your face. His voice was low when he spoke again. A request. “Please let me see you.”

In all honesty, you had forgotten you were still clothed where your need burned the hardest, and you moved quickly, kneeling higher to drag the cotton down each leg until you were just as bare as him. You looked down at him with heavy eyes, slightly shy, but only because he was studying you with such intensity.

He traced your hip bone with his finger, voice but a breath. “You are stunning, my love.” My love. His love. That was correct. You were his and he was yours. You leaned over his torso, needing to kiss him again, to feel his warmth. He cupped your face, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“All my wildest dreams don’t even…” He trailed off when your lips met, kissing you slowly. You moved closer, between your legs brushing against the smooth, gold beauty that laid between his. You couldn’t help the groan that fell from you both. Pleasure burst from every nerve in your body.

“Does that feel good?” Seokjin wondered, pulling back to cup both flushed cheeks now.

“Y-yes,” you sighed, moving your hips again. He kissed your nose as you moaned, his breathing becoming shallow again. He grew harder again as you slid over each crest, growing hotter, more sensitive, until he was surely ready for more. Your arousal felt heavy between your legs, sticking to him, greedy for his touch.

“Seokjin… I want you,” you uttered, mouth parted in pants. You clung on to his chest. “I needyou.”

“Please.” He agreed.

You lifted on your knees again, hand shaking as you gripped his member. You were nervous, but your body was acting on its own accord. Instinct.You hovered above the tip, letting him settle against your opening. “A-are you sure?” He asked, worried, holding your hips. You were aroused greatly but pushing down on him was intimidating. You struggled, feeling a little foolish.

You silently give up, needing a moment. Your heart was beating so fast. Moving back to crouch down, you dropped his length to kiss your way across his hip, catching the golden scales with each peck. You took deep breaths, calming yourself.

“Let me…Let me help you,” he suggested, curling his hands around your waist to flip your back to the mattress. “Come here,” he whispered, bending over your bottom half. “I want to touch you…feel you…kiss you…”

When two of his fingers brushed carefully over your folds, you felt a flutter travel up your stomach and a pulse down below. You bucked into him, overcome by not only his words, but his actions. He repeated, spreading your left leg by the inside of your thigh to gaze upon you even more.

“Seokjin,” you breathed, staring down at him.

“You’re beautiful.” He praised. “Can I kiss you?”

He was not talking about your lips. Or maybe he was…just a different kind. You nodded quickly, afraid to even breathe as you watched him descend. His tongue was delicate, laving against the soft flesh hesitantly. This was all new to him, but you could tell he was desperate to make you feel good. His eyes closed tight, face burying between your legs as the tip of his tongue dug between your folds, catching on a spot that had you moaning sweetly, spreading your legs shamelessly. He froze, experimentally repeating the curl of his tongue. It had the same effect, an arm reaching out to entangle your fingers in his locks. He moaned against you, sending a rumble up your pelvis.

You had explored your own body before. Most of the time after Seokjin had left you in a hot and bothered state, cheeks red, out of breath, thighs trembling, but it did not feel anything like this. His sweet tongue was a divine state of being, coaxing your tense, nervous body, and with a few more laps of his wet muscle, your moans grew more persistent. You remembered to keep the volume down, but it was impossible to stay silent altogether. Seokjin worked you until you were trembling underneath him, squirming in his hold, a pleasure settling deep inside the pit of your stomach and staying there, glowing.

He pulled away when he realised you were growing sensitive, lips shimmering with your arousal. He looked absolutely stunning. “You sound so… It is driving me crazy.” He laughed with a trembling voice.

Sated, but still greedy, you smiled at him, breasts heaving slightly with your chest, and you ran your hand down your stomach, hooking your finger under Seokjin’s chin. “Do you think I’m ready…?”

“We can try…” He murmured. “Should I see…?” He trailed off, one of his fingers circling your entrance carefully. You could hear yourself, sticky as you coated the pad, and you fidgeted, wanting more. On cue, he slipped the digit inside you. Your velvet walls squeezed around the intrusion, but it was in a desperate need, locking him in placed. He explored you a little, dragging and rubbing inside you, trying to stretch you for what was to come.

“You feel so soft.” He told you, reluctantly pulling out. “Do you want to try, my love?” You nodded almost feverishly, gripping onto his shoulders as he crawled over your body. You spread your legs, letting him nestle inside them as he kissed your forehead and down your nose.

When he reached your mouth, he stopped to pull away. “Are you sure? Tell me right now if not.” He rubbed your nose with his lovingly. “We can stop… I know… I know this isn’t what you were expecting…”

You clutched his face in your hands. “It is better.” You promised. “Better than what I could have ever imagined.” Tonight was perfect. You were so lucky, and so happy. “I want you so much.” You whispered, mouth tugging at his bottom lip. You rolled your hips upward, brushing against his length. “So much it hurts.” His breath caught, surprised by your brazen words. “Please…”

“When you beg like that it is impossible to even think of saying no,” he chuckled under his breath, voice strained as he held himself up by the palms of his hands.

You dragged your tongue along his, too far gone. You were speaking without thinking, so needy for his love. “Want to feel you inside me.”

He shook, voice just the same as he whispered in your ear. “Sinful.”

“Love cannot be sin,” you shook your head, and he pulled back to watch you with a small smile.

“You are right.” He agreed, caressing your cheek before he glided the hand down your body; down your cleavage, to your navel, goosebumps erupting all over you. You heard him grip his member in his fist, rubbing it ever so carefully up and down your swollen folds. “I want to be one with you.” He confessed sweetly, and you braced yourself, blood rushing in your eardrums.

“Alright?” He murmured. Reassurance as he found your entrance and began to push inside. You nodded your head, strands of his hair that dangled down tickling your forehead. “Slowly…” He followed his own advice, opening you up bit by bit, until he stopped at the first ridge.

Like this you felt no pain, and you gripped his hips. “Keep going.” You whispered, watching his face almost mesmerised. The veins in his neck bulged, visibly holding his breath as he struggled with his pacing. You could tell the sensation was overwhelming for him, his eyes glassy. As your flesh stretched over the first golden crest, you felt the burn, instantly fuller, and you dug your nails into his skin, overcome. It happened two more times, popping over the final ridges until he hit the bulge at the base, your vagina unable to strain that much right now. You both gasped upon the sensation, mouths open, eyes wide as you stared at one another in disbelief.

“Can we stay like this for a little while?” You asked, slightly panting for breath as you kept painfully still. There was not so much pain, just a dull burning as your skin tightened around him. He nodded his head, speechless himself, and reached for your mouth, kissing you as best he could. His arms trembled and he moved to rest on his elbows, caressing your face with his fingers.

“I love you,” he told you through sweet sighs, careful to hold his body weight up, not to crush you or add excess pressure between your bodies.

“I love you too.” So much. It felt like you were floating this time. Staying afloat because you had Seokjin. You had his love. You were one. Connected like no other way, and you wanted to stay like this forever. Safe in his embrace.

“You feel so soft,” he choked, unable to keep still a moment longer as his knees buckled. He pulled back, and you couldn’t help but moan out, pleasure hurtling through your body.  

“Yes, do that again,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck now, holding him close. He moved forward, repeating his action until he was shallowly thrusting into your warmth. “Seokjin…” You breathed, fluttering your eyes closed.

“You feel so good. So warm. My head may explode,” he whimpered, driving a little faster in to you, and that’s when you felt it, the stretch as his bulge steadily pushed inside you. You were now more aroused than ever, and greedily, you took him all.

Seokjin’s hips stuttered, head flying back as he buried deep inside your velvet walls, but you rutted upwards, desperately trying to keep him moving. It felt so good, and you wanted to feel the drag of all his crests as he thrust inside you. The bed frame creaked again as he laid over your body, the warmth encasing you, and you clung to him tightly, moaning loudly.

“Shush,” he strained, because it seemed he wanted nothing more than to join you. “We mustn’t wake my parents up.”

You agreed, from then on trying your best to stay silent. You’d gnaw at your bottom lip if needed. He buried his face in your neck as he continued to furiously make love to you, both of your bodies glistening with sweat, sliding against one another. Breathing laboured, the occasional groan, and the sounds of your arousal as he slid in and out of you filled his bedroom. It was a masterpiece. Beautiful.

Your right hand found his hip, tracing the patterns his scales made. You would never get enough of touching him. He pulled his head back, watching you with unfocused eyes. “S-seok…” You trailed off, unable to continue, panting loudly. You wanted to tell him he was gorgeous. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead, the sheen of sweat on his face twinkling in the flamed light, his brows furrowed as his thrusts grew weaker, sloppier. Your heart swelled inside your chest. Filled with so much love you didn’t know what to do.

“I’m going…” He tried, shaking his head. “Again—!” You knew what was coming, the tell-tale signs right there, but this time as he orgasmed, he captured your lips in his, sheathing his gold as deep as it would get, filling you with the hot warmth you knew from earlier.

He stayed like, buried inside your warmth, growing partly limp as you both caught your breath like you’d been drowning moments earlier. You wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him tightly, inhaling his scent, melting into his skin.

You found one another’s mouths again, his hands cupping your jaw as he kissed you hard. This time was different though, there was no urge behind it, no desperation, just a need that lived inside him. A need to show you how much he loved you. Pulling away with a gasp, he clutched your face harder. “I love you—I love you. So—much.” Another kiss to your mouth. He didn’t give you time to reciprocate.

“I want you forever.” He gushed. “Marry me.” More kisses, but this time you were too stunned to even try and kiss back. He broke apart, murmuring softly now. “Marry me…”

“Are you sure?” You found your voice. Quiet and full of disbelief. This was your wildest dream. Marrying Seokjin. Your happy ending. Something that seemed impossible before finding yourself in Helios. Impossible until you met the love of your life…

“I’ve never been surer of anything, my love. I will love you for my entire life.” He professed, and you giggled, happiness swelling inside your chest. You kissed him like your life depended on it, until he was desperate to know the answer. “Yes?” He gasped, breaking apart.

“Of course it’s a yes,” you nodded wildly, running your fingers through his hair, before pressing his forehead against yours. He grinned harder than you’d ever seen.

“I love you, Seokjin. Forever.” 

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN TREVOR

But it worked so well, and we knew that buyers would have a big pool of potential users, at least. Web browser.1 Angels were generally much better to talk to someone, I could usually get to the end of each film, so they know who might be interested in this mystery—for the same destination, just approaching it from different directions. I recommend you solve this problem, if you find someone else working on the biggest things inexperienced founders and investors are probably more where it's considered especially polite to compliment someone's clothing than where it's considered improper. VCs want to blow you up, it wears you out: Your most basic advice to founders is just don't die, but the word madam never occurs in my legitimate email, and spam in particular. Basically at 25 he started running as fast as possible. And what are the universities thinking?

The next best, for startups that aren't charging initially, is active users. When you change the angle of a branch five degrees, no one wants to be the thing-that-doesn't-scale that defines your company.2 That principle, like the relative merits of programming languages is to give you enough money to last for a year or a hundred times as productive as those working for money, they'll work a lot harder on stuff they like. 5-7% of a company like Apple and think, how hard can it be? Economically, you can do in your spare time, and investors are down on advertising at the moment. They do more in their heads: they try to do things that seem to be: a lot of them. The third big lesson we can learn, or at least, there is no one within big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders. When I look back it's like there's a line drawn between third and fourth grade. That's what makes sex and drugs, it would be good to solve?

Prep schools openly say this is one reason I'd bet on the curve, at any given time get away with it, and the different parts of the company through the COO. Object-oriented programming in the 1980s was enabled by a combination of circumstances: court decisions striking down state anti-takeover laws, starting with the assumption that we would never get started. Not because it's causing economic inequality, you decrease the number of startups that get bought early. It's not a deal till the money's in the bank and keep operating as two guys living on ramen. I'm optimistic. They think that there will be ten JetBlues.3 If you try to attack wealth, you end up doing something chosen for you by syndicates.

And you don't want to see the Valley itself, but it goes fast. What Happened to Yahoo August 2010 When I went to.4 What this means in practice. That makes him seem like a winner, they may avoid publishing's problems. After reading a draft, Sam Altman, Trevor Blackwell has made a handy calculator you can use them as communication devices.5 You not only have to filter email from people you'd never heard from, or about, a startup has decreased dramatically. Startups are that constrained for talent. But it's harder than it sounds.6 Smallness Measurement If you can't measure the value of products is in software. You don't have to rely on. Hackers just want power.

I knew she was about to say you'd have to be fired, and one of your most powerful weapons, I think this is true for funding. The best was that the company was itself a kind of argument that might be called the Hail Mary strategy. They don't have time to work, just like a software company. But it hardly ever is. My friend Robert learned a lot by writing network software when he was a startup, then hand them off to go away.7 Sun. Oxford had a chair of Chinese before it had one of English.

Which means the slowdown that comes from being in America. And in fact the two forces are related: they're the ones who like running their company so much that resembling nature is intrinsically good as that nature has had a couple thousand Altair owners, but without the substance. Ditto for hacking. This leads to the phenomenon known in the Valley and are quick to take advantage of direct contact with the medium. We were all starting from scratch, that's a really bad sign.8 More important, I think it's cleaner if you openly charge subscription fees, instead of just looking at them all is through a computer. Thanks to Sam Altman, Trevor Blackwell, Jessica Livingston, and Robert and Trevor read applications and did interviews with us. The stock of a company as big as Java, or bigger, just on the partner you talk to startups, a lot of investors are interested in, that's not necessarily a mistake to use the term Collison installation for the technique they invented. FreeBSD, which I'm running on the computer I'm using now, and they're not coming back. Court hierarchies are another thing entirely. In practice offers exist for stretches of time, if your business model in the world look like this? Startups don't win by winning lawsuits.

5 spams per 1000 with 0 false positives. When I was in college that there were about 20,000. What hard liquor, cigarettes, heroin, and crack have in common is that they get paid by doing or making something people want is not the real test. Ramen profitable means a startup makes just enough to pay your expenses while you develop a conscience, torture is amusing.9 Wouldn't that at least someone really loves. Sex, or something just as bad. I can see a path that's not immediately obvious; that's one of the most important quality in an investor is to say that the unsuccessful founders would also fail to chase down funding, and investors tend to take these for granted now, but only because people have found even more addictive ways of wasting time. It does not seem to be several categories of cuts: things I got wrong, because if you don't, you're hosed. So we should expect founders to do it yourself. If you actually started acting like adults, it seemed to them what e-commerce business back in the day, but who want it urgently. 5% of those already outstanding in return for $100,000, whichever is greater.

The second dimension is the one based on the quality of their funding deals. So I want to zoom in on one detail of this picture. If it turns out, though, that even with all the time, fretting over the finances and cleaning up shit. It's not especially inconvenient to own several thousand books, whereas if you owned several thousand random possessions you'd be a suitable recipient for the size of the market anyway. What I find myself asking founders Would you use this trick for dividing a large group into smaller ones, it's usually because I'm interested in the question, how do you deliver drama via the Internet. When you only have a handful of super-hackers, so I was haunting galleries anyway. But I know the real reason: the product is only moderately appealing. Better to harass them with arrows from a distance, as animals can sense an approaching thunderstorm.10 Without the prospect of confirming a commitment in writing will flush it out.

Notes

Since we're not doing YC mainly for financial reasons, including both you and listen only to emphasize that whatever the false positives reflecting the remaining outcomes don't have to do, just their sizes. The problem with most of their origins in words about luck. It was common in the imprecise half. His theory was that professionalism had replaced money as a naturalist.

If you wanted to than because they need them to represent anything.

From? The way to fight. The Harmless People and The Old Way. I know, Lisp code.

Do not finance your startup.

Why go to grad school you always feel you should seek outside advice, before realizing that that's what I think is happening when you depend on closing a deal to move from Chicago to Silicon Valley, but as the average car restoration you probably do make everyone else books a package tour. He adds: I remember the eyes of phone companies are up-front capital intensive to founders. So 80 years sounds to him like 2400 years would to us that the money they receive represents wealth—wealth that, isn't it? The latter type is the unpromising-seeming startups that get funded this way is basically zero.

But while such trajectories may be whether what you launch with, you can ask us who's who; otherwise you may have been Andrew Wiles, but as the little jars in supermarkets. Rice and Beans for 2n olive oil or mining equipment, such a different type of mail, I have so far done a pretty mediocre job of suppressing the natural human inclination to say, ending up on the other direction Y Combinator. This is an instance of a business is to carry a beeper? This trend is one of those most vocal on the LL1 mailing list.

The First Two Hundred Years. Who continued to live inexpensively as their companies took off? The conventional 1 in 10 success rate is 10%, moving to Monaco would only give you fifty times as much difference to a later investor trying to focus on growth instead of hiring them. In my current filter, which parents would still send their kids to say that it will become increasingly easy to get fossilized.

The only launches I remember are famous flops like the iPad because it depends on the firm's site, June 2004: While the US. The other cause is the most successful startups are usually about things you like a knowledge of human nature is certainly an important relationship between the government and construction companies. People tell the craziest lies about me. Patent trolls can't even trust the design world's internal standards.

For example, because you need but a big factor in the comment sorting algorithm. Horace, Sat.

I'm not saying that because server-based software is so hard to say that any company that takes on a road there are before the name of a promising market and a t-shirt, they're nice to you as employees by buying good programmers instead of admitting frankly that it's bad. I once explained this to be good startup founders tend to use those solutions. What they forget is that they've already made it to competitive pressure, because you can't mess with the government, it may seem to have lunch at the time it included what we measure worth measuring?

[arquiteto21-blog]

How To Select A Contractor For Your Architectural Project And What NOT To Do

I'm sure you've heard the age-old conflict of the architect and contractor not getting along. Today's society is moving towards interdisciplinary occupations, and people are getting increasingly better at working together, gradually alleviating this conflict. More design/build companies (where the contractors and architects are both working for the same company) have begun to emerge, but not all of the perceived benefits are actually beneficial. One common claim made by design build companies is that architects don't know how to build, and having in-house contractors alleviates the many issues that arise as a result. First, we have the very obvious rebuttal that you can't paint the entire profession with a broad brush stroke. Do I need to remind you to select an architect with actual experience? No? Good. Second, if you were to momentarily entertain that all architects don't know how things go together, the claim that contractors are coming to the rescue would be the case, regardless of whether the two occupations are part of one company or separate companies. I've known both architects and contractors who've owned design/build companies that went back to their respective corners. WHY? They couldn't do both the architecture and construction well, AND be profitable at the same time. Key point here: paying attention? The fact is, in our rapidly changing world, it is difficult enough to be good at one type of business, let alone two. When you have the added burden of concerning yourself with both occupations AND being profitable, the client will always lose. It is an inherent conflict of interest. Part of our duty as your architect is to protect your interests. We are your advocate and produce a contract set of documents (your construction drawings are actually appropriately called "contract documents") to depict your wishes, with which you agree on a price with a contractor. If the person writing your contract and the person executing it are under one roof, it would be like allowing your insurance company to determine which medicine you take... Oh wait... they do. I love that. Don't you?

A good contractor is worth his or her weight in gold. It takes years of experience and a creative, yet pragmatic thinker, to foresee challenges coming down the pipeline, and act accordingly amongst the many trades and details involved. I have the utmost respect for good contractors and enjoy working with them. When selecting a contractor, you should call around and chat briefly with as many as you can to get a feel for their personality and the world in which you are about to embark. I'm sure you've found some random articles online like, "The 5 questions you need to ask contractors", or "The 3 things you need to look out for when selecting a contractor". If not, you should go find some, as there are millions of them, and most of them are helpful. I want to focus on something else here. his explanation Projetos de Arquitetura

There are a wide range of contractors who will provide you with a lovely array of estimates for the same amount of work, and you need to know how to make sense of it all. Take a step back and look at the big picture. You have your low, medium and high contractors to choose from. You need to begin by asking yourself what level of service you are expecting. If you want super creative, unique, custom details, built with the highest level of craftsmanship, don't expect the low to medium priced contractors to do it. I'm guessing many of them could, if given unlimited time and budget, but their low or medium priced estimate indicates that isn't what they are planning for your project. If you are just looking for a straightforward and comfortable home requiring less specialized talents, then maybe you do want to work with a contractor who costs less, but consider the following. Most contractors purchase their materials from the same places and use similar sub-contractors that, in order to be competitive, need to charge competitive (i.e. similar) rates. As a result, many times the reason Contractor A's estimate is so much lower than Contractor B's and C's isn't because they have the inside track on super cheap labor and materials, right? And even if they did, my guess is they would still charge you the going rate and keep the profit for themselves. Granted, I'm sure some people are better at working at a more rapid pace than others, but most likely it will take the same amount of time to frame your kitchen regardless of who does it. Taking all of that into consideration, it becomes clear that your project is going to cost a certain price regardless of who does it. The differences is whether you will know about the additional costs ahead of time (in a detailed estimate) or after the fact (via change orders). I am not implying that low-cost contractors are being dishonest. They are human. Everyone likes to tell people what they want to hear, and everyone likes to make a profit.

However, if you are a numbers kind of person, one of the only black and white figures you can easily compare is how much each contractor marks up his or her products and services. I've seen percentages ranging from 10-20%, and you can typically find this in a lump sum clearly spelled out at the end of the estimate. Outside of that, the demo still needs to be hauled away, the finishes still need to be added, and the building still needs to be enclosed. If one bid includes demo but doesn't include the hauling and dump fees, creating a visibly cheaper estimate, do you think that the contractor is just going to flip the bill for that out of his or her own good will? No, you will. Surprise! Don't select your contractor based on who has the lowest bid, as many times all it means is that it is lacking things the other contractors have included.

Contemplate these ideas instead.

• Ask him or her the "5 questions" that you found online and make sure your personalities match.

• Ask yourself if you felt like your concerns were being heard during your meeting.

• How responsive are they?

• CHECK REFERENCES! I hope I don't have to beat this key point to death for you to understand how incredibly important it is.

• Was the estimate provided in a timely manner? 2 weeks is average, 3 is the max unless it is a really complicated project.

• Is the estimate easy to read? Why is this important? This is what your invoices are going to look like. Is it organized? Can you understand it?

• You must, without exception, sign off in writing on all changes to the contract documents PRIOR to the work being done. Ask if this is standard practice for them, and if it isn't, let them know this is a deal breaker for you.

• Although I recommend initially chatting with many contractors, I would only ask 2 or 3 for estimates. Any good contractor will take a lot of time to put together a detailed estimate, and any more than 3, in my opinion, isn't necessary to get an accurate feel for the cost of your project. Respect their time, and give them a fair shot at being awarded the contract.

[la-regina-scrive]

Sometimes, Dead is Better

The world was rocked by a shocking piece of information: souls of the dead who had returned to the Lifestream would stay intact for days, sometimes weeks, after death. It had always been taught by scholars of the planet that all dead things returned to the planet and dissolved into the Lifestream, and somehow people had assumed that the dissolution of the soul happened right away.

Scientists studying the phenomena of the soul, the metaphysical properties which could be observed and measured, were able to classify a series of stage gates in the process and determine the average time in which a “consciousness” would remain whole.

A small, little-known company called Shinra Electric, a coal processing firm that had failed to successfully monetize extraction of concentrated Lifestream and natural Mako as energy sources, set their best scientists to this discovery. Their coal plants remained profitable enough to yield enough capital for one last gamble.

“My daughter, please…”

James looked up into the man’s beleaguered face. His hair was dark and closed-cropped, his skin fair. He was recognizable as one of the senior coal miners in the Corel branch. He hated being stuck in the middle of nowhere, no matter how rich the coal deposits were. Science missions were always in the boonies; even the old Professor Gast had been stuck for years in a cold mountain hellhole and he ran the entire department for decades.

“Sir?” James asked, trying to be polite.

“That thing you have underground. The thing that taps into the ground, the thing I’ve had to keep damn near every one of my men quiet about,” the man started. James thinned his mouth. The local bumpkins weren’t supposed to be briefed on his project. The man continued, “I know what it does, I’m no fool. I won’t tell anybody, none of us will, I’m just, I’m begging you, please… I’ll pay whatever it costs. I just want my daughter back.”

“Sir, I don’t know what you think you’ve heard, but I can’t imagine what you possibly--”

“Dyne,” the man corrected him sharply, cutting him off. “And I won’t take any bullshit about it. I’ve sweat and bled for this company, and I’m not asking for anything for free.”

James squirmed in his seat.

“She had a fever last night,” the man, Dyne, continued. “It spiked. She ain’t even been gone 18 hours. And I kept it quiet, because I know nobody’s supposed to know about it.”

James bit his lip. He was in need of both extra funds and test subjects. He glanced from side to side, pointlessly, out of a compulsion to emphasize the secrecy and conspiratorial nature of what they were about to do. He didn’t need anybody else, he was confident he could run the machine alone. He’d zapped dozens of bunnies, gerbils, dogs, what have you. It was a simple process.

“Five million,” he muttered. “I need ten percent up front, and another ten every month after. Can you do it?” he asked. He would be taking every penny the man had, likely driving him into debt, but it wasn’t a goddamn charity. People lost kids all the time.

Dyne nodded. “Yeah, I got it. Five hundred thousand up front.”

“Meet me here tonight, at one a.m. Bring the money. If anybody finds out about this, we’re both fucked, so keep your mouth shut. If you disappear before I’ve got five million, it’s not gonna be pretty for anybody you have left back here. We’re clear?”

Dyne nodded again.

+++

At twelve fifty a.m., Dyne left his home with a small bundle of blankets nestled in his arm. His eyes were as hard as steel.

He met James in the dark of night outside of James’ office, where they had spoken earlier. James led the way into the structure below, taking stairs and lifts down into the facility within the earth.

It reminded Dyne a little of a coal mine, just a little. But it was something very different. A massive tube emerged from the earth, pulsing with warmth and energy. The walls were lined with curative and restorative materia spheres in glass casings. It was actually far sparser than Dyne thought it would be. He expected more computers and dials and switchboards. There wasn’t enough machinery here to run a modern mining operation, let alone...whatever this was.

Dyne watched the other man take his daughter’s body and lay her out on the floor of a glass tube. As the tube’s door sealed shut, Dyne felt a pang of guilt watching his baby girl lay on the floor, cold and alone. James worked a few controls and glowing liquid flowed into the chamber. A second outer-wall sprang up over the tube. His little girl looked so tiny suspended there within it. As the warm, bright liquid surrounded her, she looked like she could wake up at any moment.

“Okay, here we go. Little girl, time to get your soul back.” James tapped at a few more controls, and the humming from the large tube grew louder. It rattled everything, buzzing through Dyne’s bones.

“Her name is Marlene,” he said, but he was drowned out. Hot green Lifestream flowed in and around the chamber, filling the space between the glass walls. The Lifestream was contained, but Dyne could steel feel it from where he stood. It resonated with his own life force, his very soul.

He saw something then, something deep and inky just from the corner of his eye, but it was gone in a bright flash of light. The displays around the glass chamber began to beep.

“Life signs!” James exclaimed. “She’s awake in there. Ha ha! I brought a human back to life!”

Dyne didn’t notice anything James said. He was at the glass, looking at his little girl, waiting for her to stir.

“Marlene,” he said.

The little girl opened her eyes, and looked at Dyne. Every hair he had stood on end as her eyes met his. He smiled. It was his little baby girl, awake and alive.

“Let her out of there,” Dyne called to the other man. “I want to see her.”

She was supposed to be in there for two hours with a gradual drain, James knew, but it didn’t really matter. Two hours or two minutes, the vitals always stayed consistent. He hit the drain switch and watched the little girl float down, just staring at her father. He figured that was only natural.

“Marlene,” Dyne called again. The little girl slowly, tentatively, raised a finger and pointed at her own face.

Dyne cried out and nodded. “Yes honey, yes! You’re Marlene!”

James slid down the outer-tube glass wall and put on his gloves to open the door and let out the little toddler. As the door slid open, he squatted down, ready to reach out and pick her up.

“You’ll want to give her a bath when you get her home, the residual lifestream shouldn’t be toxic but you never--”

James’ words died in his mouth as her tiny teeth sunk into his throat. It took him a few beats before she let go and bit down again, more savagely, and he screamed. He jerked her away.

The child came away with a chunk of skin in her mouth, and James’ jugular sent blood up in a shower.

“Marlene!” Dyne called rushing toward them. He grabbed his little girl away from James and she nestled against him.

“Da...ddy…” she croaked out.

He stared down at James, bleeding out and gasping like a fish in the floor of a boat. There was nothing he could do. He was in complete shock.

“Home… wan…na… go home…” she whined in her ravaged voice. He couldn’t look at her face and front, covered in blood. He picked up the blanket he had brought her in and wrapped her up again. She was probably cold.

“Ghh...hh…” The man on the floor gasped behind him, but that didn’t really mean anything any more. His little girl was back in his arms, alive and well.

That was all that mattered.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

After the Fall Ch.22 Acceptance

LoganLight, AO3

he legal proceedings were tedious but necessary. Good thing Adrien was just expected to sign a 'few' forms instead of dealing with the state's . . . Prosecutor? Was that the term?

Regardless, the Gorilla was officially recognized as his legal guardian until he came of age. His assets would be held in trust until then. Adrien was surprised at the sheer amount that he would inherit even with the millions of euros in damages that were paid to la Ville de Paris.

Guess it came with being rich. Even after everything, they wouldn't take his money. At least not all of it.

The board was scrambling to separate themselves from Gabriel. Starting by renaming the company something besides Gabriel. That hasn't stopped the massive loss in profit and several boycotts, though. It would be a long time before they could recover. If they ever did.

Perhaps Adrien could bring himself to care in time but at present he was more than happy to let them do what they will. It's not like they could cheat him out of his inheritance. Nathalie had seen to that.

Incarcerated she may be, but Nathalie knew more about their finances than anyone short of the accountants. She'd made sure Adrien's trust was fraud proof years ago. And continued doing so right now.

Certainly their lawyers thought she was being extremely cooperative.

Adrien's emotions twisted and turned at the thought of his 'caretaker'. Nathalie had always done what Gabriel asked. Only taking Adrien's side when she thought Agreste senior wouldn't find out.

She convinced him to let me go to school.

Right. There was that . . . And nothing else of any significance.

Gabriel himself remained a mystery to Adrien. He refused to see that . . . man. But he heard of Gabriel from those that had. Apparently, losing everything had finally cracked that stubborn pride.

The legal proceedings were tedious, but they would end. Adrien would give his testimony at the trial. (Everyone should know what they were dealing with.) And that would be the last time Adrien would have to deal with Gabriel Agreste.

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"I wanted to thank the both of you," Adrien said. Looking Max and Markov in the eye. "Especially you, Markov. You were amazing."

"It was my pleasure, Adrien. I'm glad we were able to provide assistance," Markov replied. His face screen showing various expressions which conveyed his subdued joy.

Max gazed with pride at his creation. "If you need help with anything just ask," he offered Adrien.

Adrien smiled warmly at them. They didn't mention the trial or Gabriel. Max probably having instructed Markov not to beforehand. Adrien was grateful for that. Grateful for a lot of things, really.

"It's important to maintain contact with friends after the loss of a loved one," Markov said.

Adrien blinked in surprise as his cheeks colored. He looked at Max and raised an eyebrow in question.

Max fidgeted nervously. "He thought it'd be a good idea to download information on types of loss . . ."

Markov glanced between them confused. "Is that not appropriate counsel in this instance?"

Adrien thought of his Maman. "No, it- Ahem. That's not it. Thank you, Markov. I will," Adrien promised.

Adrien started as Max suddenly hugged him. He returned the gesture. Markov leaned his head against their shoulders, careful not to let his propeller graze them.

"Everyone from school sent their greetings and well wishes, too!" Markov informed him. "They wanted to come but it is a school day."

"Oh? Then how come you're here?" Adrien asked, pulling his head up to better look at the robot.

"Mme. Kante gave her express permission!" Markov replied.

"Really? Even though I'm . . ."

Max let go of Adrien to adjust his glasses. "Maman does not hold the innocent accountable for the actions of others."

Adrien blinked back the tears that still came far too easily. It was such a simple thing to get so worked up about. "She must trust you."

Max smiled wobbly. "She knows I wouldn't be friends with someone who doesn't deserve it."

Before that could push Adrien's watery eyes into full-blown crying Markov interrupted. "And she knows I will notify Max if he is mistaken!"

Max blushed, turning away. "It was only once . . . But, yeah."

A short laugh slipped past Adrien's lips. How odd that a teenage genius and an intelligent robot would be a part of his definition of 'normal'. Then again, he'd gotten used to Plagg.

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Adrien waved his hand in front of the older boy's face. "Luka?" The musician stared vacantly ahead. Adrien turned to Nooroo and Plagg. "Please tell me I didn't break Marinette's boyfriend."

The kwamis shrugged. "He's buffering, kid. Give him a sec," Plagg suggested.

"You little trolls!" Adrien jumped at Luka's shout. "You knew! You knew and it was so obvious! No one carries that much Camembert around!"

"Actually, trolls are very polite creatures . . . Unless, you try to take their gold," Nooroo corrected.

"We need to catch you up on modern terms," Luka observed before turning back to Adrien. "How long did it take for you to find out?"

"Well . . ." Adrien drew out. "Immediately. I could tell right away."

Luka facepalmed. Adrien tried not to enjoy it too much. Plagg held no such reservations and chuckled openly.

Nooroo floated forward and patted the blue haired boy's head. "There's actually a lot of precedence. Wielders who were given different Miraculous by the Guardians for whatever reason are the best at seeing through their teammates' disguises. Especially, if they're using a Miraculous previously held by said wielder."

Luka gave Nooroo a grateful smile. "Guess there was no way around it, huh?"

"Well, you could've had a mask that actually covered your face or you could've gotten rid of the hair dye," Plagg pointed out.

"I have no control over that!" Luka protested.

"At least, not consciously," Adrien teased, not pointing out that dye needs to be reapplied.

Luka glanced between the two of them. "So, that's how you put up with this bottomless pit for so long."

"Hey!" Plagg protested.

Adrien grinned, amused. "He's a handful isn't he."

"I thought my patience was better than average. Turns out I just never came across anyone who could get my strings so out of tune," Luka lamented.

Nooroo tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It helped when we only saw each other every million years or so."

"Is that the thanks I get for taking your side instead of Tikki's!" Plagg huffed, crossing his arms.

"That was three hundred million years ago!" Nooroo protested.

"Nino's pretty good at helping people Chill, if you're interested," Adrien told the musician over the kwamis' bickering.

Luka gave him an odd look. "You're not . . . going to take him back?"

The kwamis stilled.

Adrien stared at Luka, uncomprehending. ". . . Take him . . . back?"

"Plagg." Luka glanced away. "You had him longer than I did. I thought-"

A black blur shot at Luka's face, pausing just short of colliding. "What do you think you're doing!" Plagg snapped.

"What do you mean? I thought you'd be happy! You get to go back to Chat Noir! Isn't that what you wanted? You were always going after him! You missed him!" Luka practically shouted.

"Of course, I missed him! I miss all my Chosen!" Plagg shot back. "But that doesn't change anything!"

Adrien ran a finger behind Plagg's ears, which drooped low. He held Plagg in a gentle gaze for a moment before turning towards Luka. "There's no going back to how things were."

". . . You said the Ladybug and Black Cat are Chosen in tandem, right?" Luka asked Plagg. "One for the other? So, that means Adrien was Chosen for Ladybug!"

"Yes. Unfortunately, you will have to overcome the inherent inequality in your partnership," Nooroo said softly.

"Or, I could just give him back the ring!" Luka countered.

". . . Luka . . . my . . . relationship, with Ladybug . . . It's broken. We just started putting the pieces back together. They won't go back to how they used to be . . . And I don't want them to," Adrien admitted.

". . . You could try," Luka insisted.

Adrien shook his head. "When Panthera first appeared, I hated you. But you hadn't done anything wrong. I just wanted my Miraculous back. I wanted Plagg back. That thought stayed with me for a while. That you had something, someone, that was mine."

Adrien looked at Plagg, he scratched the kwami's cheek and the Black Cat leaned into it. Plagg knew from day one that they weren't going to be a team anymore. That's why he flew to Adrien every chance he got. And somewhere along the way Adrien started to know it too.

"But the ring doesn't belong to me. Not anymore. I wouldn't be doing right by you," Adrien told him.

"That's . . . That isn't fair!" Luka said.

Adrien smiled sadly at his friend. Luka was so willing to part with a piece of himself for Adrien's sake. "Most things aren't," he admitted. "But I'm not doing this just for you, I'm doing what's best for me."

Luka stared at him for a moment. "You've grown," he said.

Adrien raised an eyebrow. "You sound surprised."

The musician sighed as his shoulders slumped. He'd obviously been preparing himself to lose Plagg. Only to be told that wasn't going to happen. The emotional whiplash must've been almost as bad as what Adrien was going through.

"I . . . I don't know what to say," Luka admitted finally.

"You don't have to say anything to me," Adrien replied pointing at Plagg. "Him on the other hand . . ."

Luka's gaze softened as the kwami turned away from him. "Plagg." He reached for his partner.

"Going backwards doesn't solve anything!" Plagg snapped dodging his holder's grasp. "Trying just makes more problems!"

"I'm sorry," Luka apologized earnestly, he held out his palm.

Plagg accepted the offered hand, sinking into it with a huff. "Stupid human!" Plagg accused with a thick voice as Luka cradled him.

Adrien felt a pang of nostalgia at the sight. He looked away to give them at least the illusion of privacy. His throat constricted as his heart pounded in his chest.

Adrien started at a small touch on his hand. Nooroo looked up at him with big, understanding eyes. The Butterfly didn't say anything, didn't have to. He brought Nooroo up to his face and cradled him.

This is what was best for everyone. What was best for Adrien. That didn't mean it would be easy. Plagg would undoubtedly insist on visiting. Luka would have to be told who he was dating. The web of secrets needed to be untangled.

Good thing Adrien had practice.

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Kagami and Nino waited patiently while Adrien collected his thoughts. His endurance for these interactions was still quite low after the arrest. They sat across from him as he fidgeted with the brooch. Nooroo and Wayzz held their own conversation on a nearby coffee table.

"I guess . . . you want to know why I didn't tell either of you anything?" Adrien asked even though he already knew the answer.

"Yes," Kagami acknowledged. Her body language displayed concern more than anything else.

"Yeah, bro. Why'd you feel like you couldn't talk to us?" Nino added. He wasn't quite as patient as Kagami. The past week likely leaving him with little Chill to spare.

Adrien took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I needed to do this myself. You two would've tried to talk me out of it."

Nino tried to protest but Kagami cut him off with a simple: "Of course."

Nino gave her an accusing look.

"What? We would have tried to talk him out of it. And after that didn't work we'd have tied him up or something. You're very stubborn." This Kagami directed at Adrien.

"I don't- Okay, fine! We might have. But, dude, we also could've helped you." Nino's tired gaze held many unvoiced questions.

". . . This was a family matter." Kagami offered. "That isn't shared lightly. Even with the people you trust most. Remember what you told me about your first day as Carapace?"

Adrien gave her a grateful look.

Nino frowned. "I remember needing help."

"I had help, bro." Adrien said gently. "And you needed to stay focused on the fight. It was bad enough that Ladybug knew what I was doing."

Nino and Kagami were silent as they thought back to the battle. Adrien had seen the shaky videos taken by bystanders. Ladybug was stunning as always but even through the terrible quality of the image he could tell she was agitated.

Letting your un-powered friend face your archenemy for you would do that to a person.

Nino sighed. "I get it, bro. I don't like it but I understand. That fight was tough! We needed all the help we could get." He smiled at Adrien. "And you pulled it off, dude!"

Adrien gave a small smile in return.

Nino sagged into the couch, leaning his head back. ". . . I think all the craziness is finally catching up with me, dudes."

Kagami furrowed her brow in confusion. "It's been over a week."

"Yeah! A week making sure nobody accused my best bro of conspiring with the enemy! And a bunch of public appearances as Carapace 'cause dumb politics. And that conversation with Ladybug about secret identities. I've barely gotten any sleep, let alone time to get my head on straight!"

Apparently realizing something, Nino sat bolt upright. "How've you been sleeping?"

Oh, right. That.

Nino had avoided asking before. There was only so many times Adrien could answer 'How are you?' honestly. But this was Nino so Adrien would forgive his exploitation of loopholes.

"About as well as I can expect. Considering." At their worried looks Adrien elaborated. "Plagg's volunteered his holder for sleepovers once I'm up for it. I'm not against the idea. Nooroo's been a big help too. And my therapist was really insistent about letting me know that she was still willing to help if I wanted to keep seeing her . . . I'm thinking of telling her everything." Adrien whispered that last part.

Nino's eyes went wide while Kagami straightened. "Are you sure that's the wisest course of action?" she asked. "What about the others' identities?"

"I'll leave those out," Adrien replied, not voicing the 'obviously' on the tip of his tongue. He was pretty sure she heard it anyway.

"And you're willing to trust her with this?" Kagami wore that scrutinizing expression she used to detect weaknesses in his conviction. "It would place you in a terribly exposed position."

"Yeah, bro. You can't take something like that back." Nino's features displayed his apprehension.

"I know . . . I think it's the wisest course of action," Adrien said, repeating Kagami's words.

Kagami and Nino exchanged glances. Coming to a silent agreement they stood up and walked towards him. Apparently, something in Adrien's face projected his need for comfort.

"Alright, bro," Nino accepted as he made his way to Adrien's left.

"It is your decision to make," Kagami agreed as she took his right.

"But Ladybug's gonna want to know, dudes," Nino pointed out.

"I'll tell her . . ." Adrien wasn't sure how something like that would go over. Hopefully it went as well as last time.

". . . And if you're having sleepovers I've got first dibs! It's in the best friend code." Nino stated matter-of-factly as he wrapped an arm around Adrien's shoulders.

Kagami followed his lead. "We're here for you if you need us."

"I know. Thank you . . . Am I that obvious?" Adrien was pretty sure he was. His emotional exhaustion must be written all over him.

They both nodded. Adrien's lips twitched and, wrapping his own arms around their shoulders, pulled them closer. Ignoring Nino's cry of "Glasses!" he held them tight.

Kagami had grown used to Adrien's embraces. She nestled comfortably at his side.

Nino was just as physically affectionate as Adrien. So, after grumbling about how expensive his eyesight was, he stopped struggling.

Adrien's eyes drifted closed as he listened to his friends breathing. His loyal brother and brave sister. If either of them noticed his slight trembling they kept quiet. He would never be able to repay them for everything they'd done for him. But then they didn't ask him to.

All that time he wasted on wishing for a family again. When he had one right here. Waiting for him to come home. Well, he was home. And he was there to stay.

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‘How much do you trust this 'Master'?’

" ‘I trust him to do what he thinks is best.’ " Adrien replied.

‘Best for who?’

" ‘For the kwamis.’ " Adrien gestured to Nooroo. And that was the only thing Adrien would say on the subject, no matter how the Gorilla phrased it.

‘What do you think?’ The Gorilla asked Nooroo.

"I have not interacted with a member of the Order since it's fall," Nooroo explained regretfully. "I cannot say. But I do know that no other Miraculous has been lost in that time."

‘You're saying his methods are effective.’ His bodyguard, er, guardian stated.

That's one way to put it.

Nooroo nodded. "You know you have to speak with him, right Adrien?"

" ‘Yes. We have to decide what to do with the Butterfly,’ " Adrien agreed.

The Gorilla's glower deepened. He could tell that Adrien wasn't looking forward to speaking with the Great Guardian. But this wasn't about personal grievances.

Adrien gazed thoughtfully at Nooroo. ". . . ‘What do you want to do?’ "

Nooroo blinked at him in surprise. "Me?"

" ‘It's your Miraculous. You should get a voice in what's done with it. What do you want to do?’ " Adrien repeated.

Nooroo looked as though he'd never been asked that before. ". . . I've spent almost two centuries in your family's hands."

Adrien looked down in shame, his hands forming the signs slowly. " ‘I'm sorry.’ "

"No, Adrien! It wasn't all bad. Many of them used my power for good . . . Even Gabriel before he fell."

Adrien couldn't look at him.

Warm arms encircled Adrien and he looked up at his guardian's gentle expression in surprise. His guardian. Certainly the only person with an obligation to guard him that had actually fulfilled the duties of his role.

I never made it easy for you, did I?

Nooroo gently caressed Adrien's cheek. "I have a complicated history with your family, yes. But that isn't your fault, Adrien . . . I would be honored if you were the next Butterfly."

". . . Nooroo," Adrien breathed, his eyes watering.

Did he want that? Nooroo didn't blame him for the Agreste family's crimes but he still felt a sense of responsibility. A kinship with the caring kwami from the moment they'd met. Adrien had only ever felt something like that with Plagg.

". . . If Master Fu thinks it's wise . . . I'd gladly be your wielder." Adrien gave a bittersweet smile as he cradled Nooroo. ". . . ‘And what do you think about all this?’ " Adrien asked his true guardian, giving the big man room to sign.

‘If you're using the Butterfly Miraculous it's less likely you'll be in danger. It may even protect you better than I could.’ The big man gave the look he used whenever he expected Adrien to be responsible with a concession.

Adrien wiped at his tears as he nodded. "H-he still has to agree to it. He might say no."

"Then I'm glad I got the chance to meet you properly, Adrien." Nooroo released his hold to look into Adrien's eyes. "From the moment you were born I watched you grow. I could feel all the love you and Emilie had for each other. Even now that you have such deep scars you have so much love left!"

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut as the tears burned down his face. He'd avoided thinking about her even as he visited every day. Avoided thinking about the uncertainty of her future. Avoided thinking about the will he'd read that Gabriel had explicitly ignored! The will where his Maman laid out, in no uncertain terms, what she expected to be done with her body in this situation.

Maman doesn't want to sleep forever.

"C-can you . . . ‘Can you tell me about her? What secrets she kept? How she used the Peacock? Why they didn't tell me about the Miraculous and kwamis?’ "  Adrien didn't know his Maman as well as he thought. He should change that.

Nooroo and Adrien's guardian smiled softly. ‘It would be our pleasure, Adrien.’

Taking the first turn Nooroo settled into Adrien's outstretched hands and cleared his throat, preparing himself for a long story. The big man pulled Adrien into a side hug; he was just as curious about what the kwami would reveal.

Adrien breathed deeply to calm himself. After years of hoping he'd finally have answers to the questions that haunted him. Questions no one else could or would answer. Adrien trembled in anticipation and suspense as Nooroo began:

"The first time Emilie used the Peacock . . ."

Ch.1  Ch.2  Ch.3  Ch.4 Ch.5  Ch.6  Ch.7  Ch.8  Ch.9  Ch.10  Ch.11  Ch.12  Ch.13  Ch.14  Ch.15  Ch.16  Ch.17  Ch.18  Ch.19  Ch.20  Ch.21

[transracialqueer]

WHAT WE LOST: UNDOING THE FAIRY TALE NARRATIVE OF ADOPTION

by Liz Latty

January 3 is my Special Day. It is the anniversary of the day I was adopted. The day my parents bundled me up and brought me home to live in our red brick ranch house on West Chicago St. in a sprawling suburb just outside Detroit. As I grew up, I would hear the tale of this auspicious day time and time again. Sometimes even now, in my thirties, my parents like to retell it. Their eyes still shine with something expectant, something new.

We drove through the snow that morning to pick you up at the adoption agency. We were so excited. We’d been waiting so long for you; had prayed so hard. We held you in our arms. Your new brother made silly faces at you and you smiled and laughed at him. We took you home with us and our family was finally complete.

Although the Michigan court proceedings that legalized my adoption wouldn’t happen for another year and a half, my parents decided the January day they brought me home would be the symbolic day we celebrated our family making itself again each year.

I was told versions of the tale of my homecoming so many times over the years, it became somewhat like a myth. Perhaps the same way one’s birth story might feel mythical. And since this was the closest to a birth story anyone had to give me, it became part of the fabric of our family culture, like the storybook romance of my parents’ courtship that began with a canceled blind date in south St. Louis in 1963 and unfolded into their long prayed-for children arriving safely in their arms.

My brother had his own Special Day, having been adopted three years before me from a different family of origin. Our Special Day celebrations always included the retelling of the sweet tale of our arrivals, a small gift, and a special meal or dessert in our honor. I remember lovingly wrapped presents of longed-for books and shiny lip glosses, new CDs and all-you-can-eat dinners at the local Olive Garden. I liked feeling as though I had something akin to a second birthday. It made me feel different in a good way—like I got more than other kids to make up for the feeling that I somehow had less, or was missing something everyone else just naturally had.

At the same time, I felt acutely aware of how happy my mom and dad were on my Special Day, and how sometimes my feelings didn’t quite match up. Sometimes I would feel disconnected from the party, as if some other ghost girl were being celebrated as I watched. A girl who had one family that loved her, one family she belonged to, one name, one home, one story that began on that cozy January day and stretched on into happiness forever after. I would watch this girl celebrate with her family, watch them celebrate together, and I would feel hollow, empty in comparison. Eventually, as I grew into my teen years and my identity began shaping itself in part around this absence, I would come to an understanding that for my parents, my Special Day holds within its memory unbridled joy and relief—finally. But that for me, it holds something far more complicated.

*

Most mornings I sift through news stories from around the globe in search of content for an adoption news website I curate. As a result, I can safely tell you the majority of adoption-related news that doesn’t have to do with a celebrity adoption rarely makes it past small, local, or adoption-specific media platforms, or into the average person’s newsfeed on a regular basis. Yet this summer, when a five-year-old girl named Danielle had her adoption finalized in a Michigan courtroom, nine Disney princesses showed up to celebrate her, and a video of the joyous occasion went viral. Media outlets the likes of BuzzFeed, NBC, Refinery29, and Today.com ran the piece with headlines such as, “This Little Girl’s Adoption Hearing is a Real-Life Fairy Tale,” “Girl, 5, Gets Happily Ever After When Disney Princesses Surprise Her at Adoption Court Hearing,” and “Fairy-tale Ending as Disney Princesses Show Up for Adoption Hearing.”

I hesitated to watch the video. The all-too-familiar storyline linking adoption and fairy tales registered in my body as a flash of anxiety and exhaustion: Here we go again, I thought. But I clicked on it anyway and watched as a representative from the foster agency told us of Danielle’s obsession with Cinderella and everything Disney princess. My heart melted a little as I learned about the foster care workers who had arranged the elaborate surprise in an effort to make Danielle’s adoption day special. At the front of the courtroom next to Danielle sat her elated foster family of two years, for whom everything had lead up to this day in which they officially adopted Danielle, and another foster child, one-year-old Neveah, into their family. The anticipation in the room was electric as the judge offered Danielle the job of banging the gavel, symbolically sealing her own adoption, and the entire courtroom called out in unison, “It is so ordered!”

As the gavel crashed into its sounding block and a smiling, sweet-faced Danielle wobbled almost imperceptibly with the weight and force of it, I realized I’d been crying. The overwhelming sense of joy in the video, the love, the celebration of a family making itself, was beautiful. And, at the same time, I felt a familiar dull ache that often arrives as I watch adoptees at the center of someone else’s narrative.

I think what Danielle’s foster care workers and family did to make her day extra special was an incredibly loving gesture. And even though I can’t help but wonder what Danielle’s story is, what else she might have been feeling that day, or how she will come to think of that day in the future, what’s really troubling to me is why this video went viral when most adoption news goes quietly or not at all. What’s troubling to me is the particular brand of magic that Danielle’s story conjures for the rest of us.

There is no denying this video tugs at the heartstrings, but I believe it went viral for a very specific reason. With its fairy tale imagery and language, this video, and other sentimental representations of adoption, offer us the opportunity to further cement a narrative that we, in American society, have constructed over the last century and seem to need to believe in our individual and collective conscience: Adoption is a happy ending. Adoption is a win-win. Adoption is happily ever after. Unfortunately, this heartwarming narrative is a dangerous tale to tell and has far-reaching consequences.

The singular, unavoidable truth about adoption is that it requires the undoing of one family so that another one can come into being. And because of this, it is a practice, an institution, and a mode of family-making that is born of and begets trauma, loss, and grief. The fairy tale narrative of adoption denies adoptees the acknowledgement and support necessary to process their experiences across a lifetime. It delegitimizes the trauma of adoption loss and directly and indirectly influences the overwhelming statistics that show us adoptees are far more likely than the general population to struggle with trauma-related mental illness, suicide, and addiction.

By ignoring the complex reality of adoption, we are also corroborating a sentimental narrative that drives a billion-dollar, for-profit adoption industry whose sole purpose has been successfully shifted in modern American history from finding homes for children who legitimately need them, to supplying hopeful prospective parents with kids to call their own. The fairy tale narrative of adoption uncomplicates these truths and it lets us off the hook. It makes us feel good about each other and ourselves without having to face difficult complexities and integrate them into our understanding of not only what it means to be adopted, but also what it means to be human.

Inside the fairy tale, we don’t have to think about the darkness, the underbelly, or the unspeakable grief lying just below the surface of a child who has been severed from their home and family of origin. We don’t have to think about the countless pregnant people in the United States and across the globe who have been tricked, bribed, forced, and coerced into relinquishing their children or whose children are kidnapped and sold to agencies or intermediaries who stand to profit from their adoptions. Inside the fairy tale, we don’t have to think about all the first mothers and first families who would choose to keep their children or whose children might not have been unnecessarily or unjustly taken from them if they had access to the right kinds of support. The kinds of support that could be provided countless times over, both in the US and abroad, with the money currently invested in keeping the for-profit adoption industry and the child welfare industry in business.

So why do we love the adoption fairy tale so much? Most of us agree that modern day fairy tales have set us up for failure when it comes to beauty standards and romantic relationship expectations, but what about family-making?

*

I have the date of my Special Day tattooed on my left forearm along with the initials of the three first names I have been given—my birth name from my mother, a variation on her own mother’s name; my foster name from the people who cared for me in the interim; and my adoptive name from my parents, after the first American saint. Because people change children’s names, for a better fit, for a different life.

In my experience, most people that don’t know me well assume I inked my Special Day on my arm as a tribute to my adoption. A tribute to my forever family. To my happily ever after. Oh, how wonderful!, they exclaim smiling wide, knowing smiles. Except this is not at all why I wear the date on my arm. I wear it as a tribute to and an insistence on complexity. The complexity of a day that marks a beginning and an end, all at once. The beginning of my life with my adoptive family and the end of any possibility of returning to my family of origin. A family whose absence I felt as though my small body housed a haunting.

As a child, I never let on that I didn’t feel as excited as my parents did to celebrate my Special Day. This is a complicated hallmark of an adopted childhood. Adoptees often take on the emotional labor of holding our difficult feelings in places where no one can see them because we want to protect those around us from feeling hurt. There also often exists a very real and primal fear of further rejection. We understand we are loved and we understand love is tenuous, so we hide our feelings away because what if we didn’t? How will you feel? Will you be mad at me? Will you be hurt? Will you love me less? Will you send me back? I don’t want you to feel sad or think that I don’t love you, so I hold this hard truth. I hold it for you. I celebrate this day, in this way, for you.

In pictures of the day my parents brought me home from the adoption agency, I look like a baby. Utterly remarkable and yet not at all. In some pictures I look solemn, expressionless. In some I look happy, rosy-cheeked and smiling. There is no and every inference to be drawn as I sift through them, turn them over to see my mom’s handwriting, hold them up to the light. I can insert my adult feelings about this day into these pictures or not. I can choose how to narrate this story. I can tell a true story about a loving family that came to be. How long my parents had waited, had prayed. How they held me, finally. How I laughed at my brother because he made silly faces at me. How we went home together, forever. A family.

Twenty years later, although my parents (and consequently I) were told differently through agency records, I would find out that my eighteen-year-old mother had not wanted to give me up for adoption, but, like most original mothers, did not have the means to support me on her own and lived in a country unwilling to invest in helping single people, poor and working class people, people of color, queer people, immigrants, and young people keep their families sustainably intact. Though they were in love, my mother was not married to my seventeen-year-old father, and her family was Catholic. The answer was clear.

I was told her father made the decision that I would go away. A decision the family held against him for years afterward. A decision I believe I could see behind his eyes when he would try to look at me across a room or expanse of yard two decades later, after I found them.

I kept your newborn picture in my wallet for ten years or more, my mother’s younger sister tells me in a hotel bar. We always thought of you as The One That Got Away.

There is no record of the first five days of my life. I do not know if I was taken from my mother immediately or if we spent those last days together in the hospital. She was never able to speak of it during the time I knew her as an adult, before our reunion unraveled. Her sisters indicated to me they believed she no longer had access to these memories. That they had been too painful and she’d found somewhere to put them. I imagine a shoebox buried in the backyard of her parents’ home, the banks of the Detroit River eventually eroding, giving way, washing the memory of our time together into the tributaries and lakes that were the landscape of my childhood carrying on mere miles away.

The adoption agency placed me in a foster home on the fifth day, but my mother, not wanting to let me go, would come visit me. She asked her parents to take her there and they obliged. Once, she came alone. For two months, I lived in a stranger’s home without the person I’d come to know as intimately as one can. Except that sometimes she would come back for me. And then she would leave. And then she would come back. And then she would leave. As my body began to learn: this is what love is. Right up until that snowy January morning when I was taken to the adoption agency to meet my new parents and my new brother who made silly faces at me and I smiled. I laughed.

*

The late adoption scholar and activist, Reverend Keith C. Griffith, once said, “Adoption Loss is the only trauma in the world where the victims are expected by the whole of society to be grateful.” I come across this quote time and time again, more than any other, in the online adoptee and first mother communities. It is so often quoted I think, because it succinctly points to the glaring misconception, misrepresentation, and misalignment that exist between society’s narrative of adoption and our actual lived experiences as adopted people and first families. There is such a gulf, such a divide, and one that is valiantly defended by society’s deep need to believe a singular, uncomplicated truth about adoption, that those of us who have experienced the interior of an adopted life often feel completely erased and utterly silenced.

Society’s narrative of adoption tells adoptees, in no uncertain terms, if we were given to a loving home, we shouldn’t feel this pain, this chasm, this rip, this tear. We were saved, after all. We’re so much better off. We’re the lucky ones. Our parents must be such wonderful people. We must feel so grateful. How lucky. How special. We were meant to be together. Everything worked out just the way it was supposed to in the end.

It is here—in everyday encounters, in saccharine and reductive media representations, and even in our adoptive families—where adoptees are expected to embody the fairy tale narrative of adoption. A hopeful, well-intentioned narrative, but one that is historically steeped in white saviorhood and colonialism. One in which people with more financial resources, social capital, and most often racial privilege, feel entitled to the children of those with less privilege, opportunity, and support. And we have accepted this not only as an unquestionable good, but also as the best possible outcome.

But what exactly is being measured when weighing this out? Are we certain a child will be “better off” living with the irreparable wound of parental separation and more financial resources than with a low-income or working class parent in their family of origin? Certainly socioeconomic status is often a clear indicator of one’s opportunities in life, but what’s the trade off? I have often wondered what our lives would have looked like had my mother and father made the decision to strike out on their own and raise me. And I wonder too how much of our future might have been determined by the biases that are alive in these very same assumptions. Am I better off? Am I lucky? The truth is, we will never know. And this, too, is a loss.

*

I found my original family in my early twenties and for the last fifteen years, I have experienced wild anxiety, deep joy, profound grief, complex gratitude, rage, fear, alienation, belonging, contentment. I have made primal noises and shapes alone on the floor of a studio apartment when my mother stopped answering my letters after two and a half years of knowing her. I have gotten to watch new siblings grow into stunningly kind, caring, creative, bold, and generous young adults. And I recently reconnected again with my original father for the first time in nearly ten years. Perhaps it will be different this time. Perhaps it will stick. I hope so.

Three years ago I met my original grandmother and three aunts on my father’s side for the first time. I stood barefoot on a cold, tiled kitchen floor during a sweltering Southeastern Michigan heat wave, surrounded by four brazen women who looked and laughed and cursed just like me. I stood there in that kitchen as my grandmother tearfully handed me a jewelry box containing a pair of delicate earrings, tiny gold hoops with sparkling lavender gems—a family heirloom. I stood there as they apologized for not knowing about me. Apologized that I’d been a secret. Apologized for whom?

We didn’t know, they said to me. If we’d known, we would have kept you. We would have raised you ourselves.

In that moment, I felt wanted, I felt important, I felt loved beyond measure, and at the exact same time, another ghost girl was born. A girl who was raised by four strong, independent, take-no-shit, hilarious, hardworking women in a working-class town. She had one family and one name and one home and she knew where she belonged. I watched the ghost girl’s whole life unfold in that moment. I fell in love with her. And then I began the task of grieving her. I’m still grieving her. I’m not sure how to let her go.

*

Adoption loss is an ambiguous loss. While it changes shape over time, it is often life-long. It is without end. I have lost my entire family and yet, there are no bodies to bury, no socially acceptable ritual or process meant for me to understand this loss and how to live with it. My mother went on living, became someone else’s mother, while I lived my young life with only the presence of her absence and the fracturing unknown. Maybe she’s alive; maybe she’s dead. Maybe she loves me; maybe she has forgotten me. Maybe anything.

Even after reunion, if it is possible or desired, there are new losses, new lives, and new selves to grieve. Loss of this magnitude and with this kind of ambiguity most often does not simply resolve itself. Adoptees must learn how to live with it over time, yet we must do so in the face of society insisting we exude joy, gratitude, and luck. An insistence that often means the kind of support we need to manage our grief is either nonexistent or unavailable to us. Imagine for a moment, if we treated other losses this way. Imagine losing a loved one��tragically, unexpectedly—and then being expected to behave as though it was the best thing that ever happened to you.

We need a new adoption narrative. We need to ask ourselves why we have historically needed to perpetuate the sentimental fairy tale narrative of adoption that only serves to hurt those at the center of it and to support an industry in dire need of reconstruction. We need a narrative that can celebrate love and family-making, but which does not insist that adoption is always the best option. That in fact, it is often unnecessary and the most generous, altruistic thing we can possibly do is to help prevent another child and first family from having to live with a lifetime of loss and grief. We need a narrative that centers the voices of adopted people and can hold the complexity of our multiple and fractured truths. That can hold all of it. Because I think this is the reality of being adopted—holding these seemingly contradictory, disparate, complicated truths, in the same body, always. Holding deep grief and profound joy in the same breath. Holding love for one mother that does not negate the love for another mother. Belonging partly to one family or country or culture, partly to another, but maybe never feeling as though we belong to either. Feeling both wanted and unwanted, both chosen and abandoned. Wanting to belong here and wanting to go back there.

What if we, as a society, chose to hold all these truths at the same time, at the same pitch, without the need to push one out in favor of the other? How might our questions or actions or beliefs about adoption change? How might our ideas about loss change? About healing? About family?

*

Though we live on opposite sides of the country now, sometimes my parents and I are in the same place on January 3 and we celebrate my Special Day together. We still eat, we talk, we laugh, we remember. And at some point, later that day or the next, I mark it in my own way, privately, for me. I meditate, I cry, I go to nature—the ocean especially. The ocean rebalances me, stirs a kind of biological rhythm in my body, a point of origin. And the ocean is always bigger and stronger than whatever you bring to its shore. There is comfort in the humbling, in one’s own smallness.

This past January, after thirty-six Januaries, I finally told my parents that my Special Day means something very different for me than it does for them. Fear and shame and guilt licked at my heart as I opened my mouth to say the words. I still wanted to protect them. I wanted to protect them from me. But because the impulse to protect others from their own feelings about my adoption ignites resentment in me, a desire to be the one protected instead, I was cold and forceful in my telling. It’s the day I lost my family. Why would I want to celebrate that? This wasn’t the plan. I didn’t mean to, but this is what happened. I wasn’t prepared for the force with which a truth, held inside a body for thirty-six years, would emerge. I can still see the sadness in their eyes as they listened carefully and nodded, Yes, ok, we hear you.

I left their house later that day, the day before my Special Day, without saying much. I went to a friend’s place a few hours away, in a town I used to call home and didn’t return for a week. I felt guilty about how I handled it and I wasn’t ready yet to try again. The truth is, my parents and I haven’t always had an easy relationship. My unresolved childhood grief made for an angry, rebellious adolescence that left my parents at the end of their rope. When I came out of the closet at eighteen, it proved irreconcilable with their devout Catholicism and there were years of deep distance before we were able to find common ground again. When I found my original family, my parents acted threatened and scared and were unable to figure out a way to support me around it for many years. This is not a laundry list of anyone’s failings. This is complexity. This is a family.

*

Watching Danielle’s adoption hearing reminded me of how much I adore adoptees. How fierce, independent, resourceful, hard-loving, loyal, brilliant, and creative we are. Not in spite of, but alongside this grief we carry. How the first time I was ever in a room full of adoptees, I felt an atmospheric shift. I mean this in the planetary sense. I was never the same again. I had been given permission to be myself for the first time without having to navigate someone else’s need for my story to reflect a fairy tale ending.

This was when I began to dream in earnest about what it would be like for adoptees to exist in a world that understands the paradoxical experiences that we live. A world that does not insist on reducing us to cheerful assumptions and sentimental media representations. A world that accepts adoption not as an unquestionable, benevolent good, not as a fairy tale ending, but as an event that forever changes and complicates the lives of everyone involved. That when the gavel crashes into the sounding block, literally or symbolically, it is both a fracturing and a coming together, a severing and a multiplication, a derailment and a hope for the uncertain path ahead.

(source in the notes)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

#5yrsago Thomas Piketty's Capital in the 21st Century

Thomas Piketty's Capital in the 21st Century is a bestselling economics tome whose combination of deep, careful presentation of centuries' worth of data, along with an equally careful analysis of where capitalism is headed has ignited a global conversation about inequality, tax, and policy. Cory Doctorow summarizes the conversation without making you read 696 pages (though you should).

To sum up: modern growth, which is based on the growth of productivity and the diffusion of knowledge, has made it possible to avoid the apocalypse predicted by Marx and to balance the process of capital accumulation. But it has not altered the deep structures of capital -- or at any rate has not truly reduced the macroeconomic importance of capital relative to labor. I must now examine whether the same is true for inequality in the distribution of income and wealth. How much has the structure of inequality with respect to both labor and capital actually changed since the nineteenth century?

I've been writing about Piketty's work for more than a year, as the first inklings of his French-language publications began to trickle into the Anglosphere. With the explosive publication of the English edition of Capital in the 21st Century last March, the trickle's turned into a flood of Piketty commentary, which I've followed as I made my way through the text, a process that took a lot longer than I expected.

Piketty has come in for a lot of praise for the clarity of his writing, and I think it's deserved. There's very little math in this book, and it assumes very little prior knowledge of economics. In part, this is because Piketty is offering something fresh in the discourse: an unimaginably massive data-set that traces the ebb and flow of wealth and productivity around the globe for three centuries. Piketty's been very transparent about the assumptions he and his team made in pulling together the data, offering more than 100 pages of endnotes that explain the logic behind each assumption (the data itself is online, too).

If there was one word I'd use to sum up the structure of Capital, it's "careful." Piketty is offering up an inflammatory thesis (more on that in a minute), but his presentation is almost plodding. He retraces and reiterates his arguments again and again, which is helpful for those of us who don't trade in economics in our daily lives, and also is set to head off lazy critics who want to dismiss him out of hand. Indeed, one of the most entertaining episodes in the debate so far has been The Financial Times affair, where the FT's Chris Giles pointed out a bunch of "errors" in Piketty's work, only to have the normally even-keeled Piketty come back with a long, detailed rebuttal that boiled down to "Hey, asshole, if you'd bothered to look, you'd see that I documented every one of the decisions you're characterizing as an error, and if you want to disagree with me, then argue with my explicit, detailed assumptions instead of sloppily assuming I didn't even realize I was making them."

Piketty's thesis has been shorthanded as r > g: that the rate of return on capital today -- and through most of history -- has been higher than general economic growth. This means that simply having money is the best way to get more money. Piketty uses examples from English and French literature (Austen, James and Balzac) to illustrate just how unimaginably weird this situation is by modern standards. The literature of the pre-modern era is full of people who understand that the being rich is a hereditary condition, and no matter what you create, or where you work, or how important you are, or how great you are, the only way to get rich is to be rich or marry someone rich.

The most striking fact is that the United States has become noticeably more inegalitarian than France (and Europe as a whole) from the turn of the twentieth century until now, even though the United States was more egalitarian at the beginning of this period. What makes the US case complex is that the end of the process did not simply mark a return to the situation that had existed at the beginning: US inequality in 2010 is quantitatively as extreme as in old Europe in the first decade of the twentieth century, but the structure of that inequality is rather clearly different.

In the US (and Canada), this is a more remote memory, because the European colonists who came to the "New World" generally arrived without much capital, and notwithstanding the occasional land-baron or rail tycoon, have not had the opportunity to set up the kind of enduring, centuries-long dynasties that characterized the world they'd left. But for Piketty, this extreme wealth disparity is a central fact of history, and it is supposed to be the thing that modernity -- and capitalism -- conquered, through a "meritocratic" system that rewards people who do amazing things with amazing fortunes, and that recognizes that merely being the kid of someone who did something amazing is not, in itself, amazing, and should not entitle you to the exalted heights that your storied forebears attained.

The estate tax became progressive in France in 1901, but the highest rate on direct-line bequests was no more than 5 percent (and applied to at most a few dozen bequests a year). A rate of this magnitude, assessed once a generation, cannot have much effect on the concentration of wealth, no matter what wealthy individuals thought at the time. Quite different in their effect were the rates of 20–30 percent or higher that were imposed in most wealthy countries in the wake of the military, economic, and political shocks of 1914–1945. The upshot of such taxes was that each successive generation had to reduce its expenditures and save more (or else make particularly profitable investments) if the family fortune was to grow as rapidly as average income. Hence it became more and more difficult to maintain one's rank. Conversely, it became easier for those who started at the bottom to make their way, for instance by buying businesses or shares sold when estates went to probate.

Piketty challenges the idea that modernity somehow led to "merit" asserting itself as the new determinant of wealth. Instead, he makes a very convincing case that the increasing size of the capital class -- which expanded comfortably during the period of colonial expansion -- created a hunger for wealth that turned the aristocracy on itself in a squabble over who got to loot the colonies, which was World War I. This war was incredibly destructive of capital, and left many of the aristocracy holding onto potentially worthless government bonds issued by states that had nearly bankrupted themselves during the Great War. These states were so beholden to the rich that they couldn't contemplate inflating or taxing or defaulting their way out of debt, and so they took heroic and improbable measures to keep bondholders whole, which led to the economic chaos of of which WWII was born.

WWII destroyed so much accumulated wealth that in its aftermath, a raft of previously unimaginable policies became the norm. Trade unionism, progressive taxation, tenants' rights and other rules that spread out access to economic privilege and mobility became the norm, and the growth of fortunes was dramatically slowed all over the world. But by the 1980s, there was a big and important enough class of very rich people that they were able to exert serious political pressure, and the neoliberal era began, with Reagan and Thatcher. From then on, the return on capital has mounted even as growth has slowed, and the gap between the rich and poor has widened to the point where we are teetering on the brink of a society with such entrenched hereditary inequality that it can make no claim to "meritocratic" virtue.

In my view, there is absolutely no doubt that the increase of inequality in the United States contributed to the nation's financial instability. The reason is simple: one consequence of increasing inequality was virtual stagnation of the purchasing power of the lower and middle classes in the United States, which inevitably made it more likely that modest households would take on debt, especially since unscrupulous banks and financial intermediaries, freed from regulation and eager to earn good yields on the enormous savings injected into the system by the well-to-do, offered credit on increasingly generous terms.

This is a crisis. The reason for capitalism is that it is supposed to allocate reward based on "merit" -- it is supposed to move capital into the hands of the people who can do the most with it -- and if all our policy decisions are made in service to a class of supermanagers whose wealth comes from squatting on a fortune managed by some green-eyeshade quants who grow it without its owner ever doing a notable thing apart from being born to dynasty, there is no more reason for capitalism. Piketty darkly hints that the last time this happened, the world tore itself to pieces, twice, in an orgy of destruction that left millions dead and whole nations in ruin.

The main purpose of the health sector is not to provide other sectors with workers in good health. By the same token, the main purpose of the educational sector is not to prepare students to take up an occupation in some other sector of the economy. In all human societies, health and education have an intrinsic value: the ability to enjoy years of good health, like the ability to acquire knowledge and culture, is one of the fundamental purposes of civilization.

Piketty's controversial prescription for this is to impose a global wealth tax. Not a very big one, mind -- he talks at length about how a couple of percentage points per year would be more than enough. But just enough that every squillionaire would have to account for his wealth, disclosing its particulars and its disposition (laying bare the world's tax-havens), and that there would be enough redistributive pressure in the system to keep dynastic fortunes from growing, thus allowing for a middle-class to flourish (Piketty convincingly shows that even at the peak of "meritocratic" redistribution, the poor's share of the world's wealth has not changed appreciably -- rather, that the loosened control of the rich has made room for a middle-class).

A global tax on capital is a utopian idea. It is hard to imagine the nations of the world agreeing on any such thing anytime soon. To achieve this goal, they would have to establish a tax schedule applicable to all wealth around the world and then decide how to apportion the revenues. But if the idea is utopian, it is nevertheless useful, for several reasons. First, even if nothing resembling this ideal is put into practice in the foreseeable future, it can serve as a worthwhile reference point, a standard against which alternative proposals can be measured. Admittedly, a global tax on capital would require a very high and no doubt unrealistic level of international cooperation. But countries wishing to move in this direction could very well do so incrementally, starting at the regional level (in Europe, for instance). Unless something like this happens, a defensive reaction of a nationalist stripe would very likely occur. For example, one might see a return to various forms of protectionism coupled with imposition of capital controls. Because such policies are seldom effective, however, they would very likely lead to frustration and increase international tensions.

There are lots of reasons for this to be controversial. First, as Piketty admits, it's impractical. Getting all the countries of the world to agree to this scheme is implausible. But, he says, we don't need everyone to cooperate to realize some immediate benefit:

To reject the global tax on capital out of hand would be all the more regrettable because it is perfectly possible to move toward this ideal solution step by step, first at the continental or regional level and then by arranging for closer cooperation among regions. One can see a model for this sort of approach in the recent discussions on automatic sharing of bank data between the United States and the European Union. Furthermore, various forms of capital taxation already exist in most countries, especially in North America and Europe, and these could obviously serve as starting points.

There's something ineluctably European and scholarly in Piketty's willingness to treat redistribution as legitimate. "Redistribution" is political poison in the USA, though it wasn't always thus:

In 1919, Irving Fisher, then president of the American Economic Association, went even further. He chose to devote his presidential address to the question of US inequality and in no uncertain terms told his colleagues that the increasing concentration of wealth was the nation's foremost economic problem. Fisher found King's estimates alarming. The fact that "2 percent of the population owns more than 50 percent of the wealth" and that "two-thirds of the population owns almost nothing" struck him as "an undemocratic distribution of wealth," which threatened the very foundations of US society. Rather than restrict the share of profits or the return on capital arbitrarily -- possibilities Fisher mentioned only to reject them -- he argued that the best solution was to impose a heavy tax on the largest estates (he mentioned a tax rate of two-thirds the size of the estate, rising to 100 percent if the estate was more than three generations old).

Indeed, an unwillingness to tax creates all kinds of evils. For starters, if a state can't fund its core programs out of tax, it has to borrow. And when it borrows, it borrows from the rich. So instead of taxation -- which weakens the fortunes and political influence of the wealthy -- we get bonds, through which the wealthy are paid interest out of the funds extracted from those who lack the political clout to escape taxation. The wealthy get more wealthy, and exert more political pressure. Piketty illustrates this beautifully with a couple of well-chosen examples -- for example, take the sky-high CEO salary. Why weren't the CEOs of the post-war period paid tens of millions, while their financialized descendants bring home the makings of a hereditary dynasty? It's all down to an unwillingness to have real progressive taxation:

...Lower top income tax rates, especially in the United States and Britain, where top rates fell dramatically, totally transformed the way executive salaries are determined. It is always difficult for an executive to convince other parties involved in the firm (direct subordinates, workers lower down in the hierarchy, stockholders, and members of the compensation committee) that a large pay raise -- say of a million dollars -- is truly justified. In the 1950s and 1960s, executives in British and US firms had little reason to fight for such raises, and other interested parties were less inclined to accept them, because 80–90 percent of the increase would in any case go directly to the government. After 1980, the game was utterly transformed, however, and the evidence suggests that executives went to considerable lengths to persuade other interested parties to grant them substantial raises. Because it is objectively difficult to measure individual contributions to a firm's output, top managers found it relatively easy to persuade boards and stockholders that they were worth the money, especially since the members of compensation committees were often chosen in a rather incestuous manner.

It's a rare thing to see economists, especially pro-capitalist economists, praising taxation itself, but Piketty -- careful, unemotional Piketty -- dares:

Without taxes, society has no common destiny, and collective action is impossible. This has always been true. At the heart of every major political upheaval lies a fiscal revolution. The Ancien Régime was swept away when the revolutionary assemblies voted to abolish the fiscal privileges of the nobility and clergy and establish a modern system of universal taxation. The American Revolution was born when subjects of the British colonies decided to take their destiny in hand and set their own taxes. ("No taxation without representation"). Two centuries later the context is different, but the heart of the issue remains the same. How can sovereign citizens democratically decide how much of their resources they wish to devote to common goals such as education, health, retirement, inequality reduction, employment, sustainable development, and so on?

Picketty has little patience for economic doctrine in general, and gets some serious digs in:

Among the members of these upper income groups are US academic economists, many of whom believe that the economy of the United States is working fairly well and, in particular, that it rewards talent and merit accurately and precisely...Some economists have an unfortunate tendency to defend their private interest while implausibly claiming to champion the general interest.

Besides, he says, the thing every red-blooded entrepreneur wants to see is people getting rich by their wits and deeds, not by the birthright of kings. Consider the heiress to the L'oreal fortune and Bill Gates:

All large fortunes, whether inherited or entrepreneurial in origin, grow at extremely high rates, regardless of whether the owner of the fortune works or not. To be sure, one should be careful not to overestimate the precision of the conclusions one can draw from these data, which are based on a small number of observations and collected in a somewhat careless and piecemeal fashion. The fact is nevertheless interesting.

Take a particularly clear example at the very top of the global wealth hierarchy. Between 1990 and 2010, the fortune of Bill Gates -- the founder of Microsoft, the world leader in operating systems, and the very incarnation of entrepreneurial wealth and number one in the Forbes rankings for more than ten years -- increased from $4 billion to $50 billion. At the same time, the fortune of Liliane Bettencourt -- the heiress of L'Oréal, the world leader in cosmetics, founded by her father Eugène Schueller, who in 1907 invented a range of hair dyes that were destined to do well in a way reminiscent of César Birotteau's success with perfume a century earlier -- increased from $2 billion to $25 billion, again according to Forbes.

In other words, Liliane Bettencourt, who never worked a day in her life, saw her fortune grow exactly as fast as that of Bill Gates, the high-tech pioneer, whose wealth has incidentally continued to grow just as rapidly since he stopped working. Once a fortune is established, the capital grows according to a dynamic of its own, and it can continue to grow at a rapid pace for decades simply because of its size. Note, in particular, that once a fortune passes a certain threshold, size effects due to economies of scale in the management of the portfolio and opportunities for risk are reinforced by the fact that nearly all the income on this capital can be plowed back into investment. An individual with this level of wealth can easily live magnificently on an amount equivalent to only a few tenths of percent of his capital each year, and he can therefore reinvest nearly all of his income. This is a basic but important economic mechanism, with dramatic consequences for the long-term dynamics of accumulation and distribution of wealth. Money tends to reproduce itself.

(A dry postscript on those who say that feckless descendants correct this problem on their own: "It would in any case be rather imprudent to rely solely on the eternal but arbitrary force of family degeneration to limit the future proliferation of billionaires.")

But how does money increase itself? It turns out that if you have a lot of money to invest, you get a lot more in return, as Piketty demonstrates by picking apart the investment returns of the Ivy League university endowments, which are the only privately invested fortunes whose investment strategies are subject to public scrutiny:

If we look at the investment strategies of different universities, we find highly diversified portfolios at all levels, with a clear preference for US and foreign stocks and private sector bonds (government bonds, especially US Treasuries, which do not pay well, account for less than 10 percent of all these portfolios and are almost totally absent from the largest endowments). The higher we go in the endowment hierarchy, the more often we find "alternative investment strategies," that is, very high yield investments such as shares in private equity funds and unlisted foreign stocks (which require great expertise), hedge funds, derivatives, real estate, and raw materials, including energy, natural resources, and related products (these, too, require specialized expertise and offer very high potential yields). If we consider the importance in these various portfolios of "alternative investments," whose only common feature is that they abandon the usual strategies of investing in stocks and bonds accessible to all, we find that they represent only 10 percent of the portfolios of institutions with endowments of less than 50 million euros, 25 percent of those with endowments between 50 and 100 million euros, 35 percent of those between 100 and 500 million euros, 45 percent of those between 500 million and 1 billion euros, and ultimately more than 60 percent of those above 1 billion euros. The available data, which are both public and extremely detailed, show unambiguously that it is these alternative investment strategies that enable the very largest endowments to obtain real returns of close to 10 percent a year, while smaller endowments must make do with 5 percent.

In other words, if you're a normal person with a 401(k), you'd be lucky to clear inflation with your nest egg. If you're a gazillionaire, you can hire financial talent who'll get you 10 points even in the worst market, and you can pay them hundreds of millions out of chump change.

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The low point was attained in the 1970s: after several decades of small inheritances and accumulation of new wealth, inherited capital accounted for just over 40 percent of total private capital. For the first time in history (except in new countries), wealth accumulated in the lifetime of the living constituted the majority of all wealth: nearly 60 percent. It is important to realize two things: first, the nature of capital effectively changed in the postwar period, and second, we are just emerging from this exceptional period. Nevertheless, we are now clearly out of it: the share of inherited wealth in total wealth has grown steadily since the 1970s. Inherited wealth once again accounted for the majority of wealth in the 1980s, and according to the latest available figures it represents roughly two-thirds of private capital in France in 2010, compared with barely one-third of capital accumulated from savings. In view of today's very high inheritance flows, it is quite likely, if current trends continue, that the share of inherited wealth will continue to grow in the decades to come, surpassing 70 percent by 2020 and approaching 80 percent in the 2030s.

Piketty says that the "normal" state of affairs in which anyone has a crack at fame and fortune is a blip in the long run of human history that has been largely characterized by a self-serving, greedy hereditary aristocracy whose comfort was only possible because of the enmiseration of nearly everyone else. Absent some kind of extraordinary intervention, hereditary wealth will reassert itself as the primary political mover in our world. The people at the top have always convinced themselves that they live in a meritocracy, because hey, they're the best people they know, and they're at the top of the pyramid. QED. But this story is impossible to square with the data:

The fact that income inequality in the United States in 2000–2010 attained a level higher than that observed in the poor and emerging countries at various times in the past -- for example, higher than in India or South Africa in 1920–1930, 1960–1970, and 2000–2010 -- also casts doubt on any explanation based solely on objective inequalities of productivity. Is it really the case that inequality of individual skills and productivities is greater in the United States today than in the half-illiterate India of the recent past (or even today) or in apartheid (or postapartheid) South Africa? If that were the case, it would be bad news for US educational institutions, which surely need to be improved and made more accessible but probably do not deserve such extravagant blame...

...Since it is impossible to give a precise estimate of each manager's contribution to the firm's output, it is inevitable that this process yields decisions that are largely arbitrary and dependent on hierarchical relationships and on the relative bargaining power of the individuals involved. It is only reasonable to assume that people in a position to set their own salaries have a natural incentive to treat themselves generously, or at the very least to be rather optimistic in gauging their marginal productivity. To behave in this way is only human, especially since the necessary information is, in objective terms, highly imperfect. It may be excessive to accuse senior executives of having their "hands in the till," but the metaphor is probably more apt than Adam Smith's metaphor of the market's "invisible hand." In practice, the invisible hand does not exist, any more than "pure and perfect" competition does, and the market is always embodied in specific institutions such as corporate hierarchies and compensation committees.

...Regardless of whether the wealth a person holds at age fifty or sixty is inherited or earned, the fact remains that beyond a certain threshold, capital tends to reproduce itself and accumulates exponentially. The logic of r > g implies that the entrepreneur always tends to turn into a rentier. Even if this happens later in life, the phenomenon becomes important as life expectancy increases. The fact that a person has good ideas at age thirty or forty does not imply that she will still be having them at seventy or eighty, yet her wealth will continue to increase by itself. Or it can be passed on to the next generation and continue to increase there. Nineteenth-century French economic elites were creative and dynamic entrepreneurs, but the crucial fact remains that their efforts ultimately -- and largely unwittingly -- reinforced and perpetuated a society of rentiers owing to the logic of r > g.

This inequality of access also seems to exist at the top of the economic hierarchy, not only because of the high cost of attending the most prestigious private universities (high even in relation to the income of upper-middle-class parents) but also because admissions decisions clearly depend in significant ways on the parents' financial capacity to make donations to the universities. For example, one study has shown that gifts by graduates to their former universities are strangely concentrated in the period when the children are of college age. By comparing various sources of data, moreover, it is possible to estimate that the average income of the parents of Harvard students is currently about $450,000, which corresponds to the average income of the top 2 percent of the US income hierarchy. Such a finding does not seem entirely compatible with the idea of selection based solely on merit. The contrast between the official meritocratic discourse and the reality seems particularly extreme in this case. The total absence of transparency regarding selection procedures should also be noted.

Remember, hereditary wealth isn't just unfair, it's also an invitation to laziness. Just as competition disciplines firms, so to does taxation discipline dynasties:

A classic argument in favor of a capital tax should not be neglected. It relies on a logic of incentives. The basic idea is that a tax on capital is an incentive to seek the best possible return on one's capital stock. Concretely, a tax of 1 or 2 percent on wealth is relatively light for an entrepreneur who manages to earn 10 percent a year on her capital. By contrast, it is quite heavy for a person who is content to park her wealth in investments returning at most 2 or 3 percent a year. According to this logic, the purpose of the tax on capital is thus to force people who use their wealth inefficiently to sell assets in order to pay their taxes, thus ensuring that those assets wind up in the hands of more dynamic investors.

There have been a number of critcisms leveled at Piketty since the English translation of Capital, and, like the Financial Times broadside, most of these have been unserious -- coming from people who clearly haven't read the book carefully enough. But there's one criticism I have a lot of time for: Suresh Naidu's critique of the politics of Piketty's analysis. Piketty treats the rate of return on capital as largely financial, while Naidu argues (convincingly) that it's political. The rules of property and the willingness of the state to support those rules through everything from guard labor to anti-default/anti-inflationary policies are political decisions, not laws of nature, and they are the crux of the rate of return. And since the relative positions of the rate of return versus the rate of growth (r > g) is at the crux of his theory, this is a significant challenge to his analysis.

Piketty, in Naidu's view, is limited by his unwillingness to challenge capitalism itself. As Naidu says:

This is where Piketty’s Walrasian conventions dampen his contribution: he discusses the first, but not the second. It’s like saying slavery is an inequality of assets between slaves and slaveholders without describing the plantation.

Even Adam Smith suggested measuring a person’s income by the “quantity of that labor which he can command.” This has normally been taken to mean income of the rich relative to the wage. But it also means looking at “command”: what privileges and obligations can one demand from the soul purchased (or rented)?

An economy that allows indentured labor means that wealth can purchase more power over people; an economy with robust union contracts means that capital is trammeled in its control over the shop floor. From sexual harassment on the job to the indignities of gentrification and nonprofit funding, a world of massive inequality is a world where rich people get to shape environments that everybody else has to accept.

Piketty repeatedly announces that politics plays a large role in the distribution of income. But he neglects that the distribution of income and wealth also generates inequalities of larger privileges and prerogatives; wealth inequality together with a thoroughly commodified society enables a million mini-dictatorships, wherein the political power of the rich is exercised through the market itself.

Piketty is locked in a curious dance with Marx -- there is a spectre haunting Capital in the 21st Century and it is Kapital -- the Marxist critique of power-dynamics themselves. Piketty wants desperately to salvage capitalism, even if that means proposing something that every capitalist will hate: a global wealth tax.

(Image: Piketty in Cambridge, Sue Gardner, CC-BY-SA)

-Cory Doctorow

https://boingboing.net/2014/06/24/thomas-pikettys-capital-in-t.html

[arthurhwalker]

Lenovo TechWorld 2019

Disclosure: I attended Lenovo TechWorld 2019 in Beijing as Lenovo’s Guest. I sat in a super fan / brand advocate seat, and attended in that capacity. Lenovo asks that, as part of my participation, I follow all FTC disclosure laws relative to sponsored content. All opinions are my own.

Disclosure: I consumed the majority of Lenovo TechWorld 2019 via an earbud, translators working hard to turn Chinese into English on the other end. Something may have gotten lost in the translation, and I’ve tried my best to get clarity in those cases where I suspect that happened.

Lenovo HQ Tour - Day Zero

The tour wasn’t what I was expecting. It was definitely a marketing experience, designed to influence influencers and the media. It was well produced, had something for everyone, and a little more.

I write extensively about identity and digital identity in my speculative science fiction series. I’ve read Derek Parfit’s work, and Christine M. Korsgaard’s “Self-Constitution”. The philosophical implications of identity are something I’ve explored in great depth. To that end, Lenovo may be one of a precious few tech companies looking to empower (as opposed to exploit) the user, via their identity.

In philosophy, whenever someone is merely a means in the process of your decision making, you’re probably a jerk, or in the process of acting like one. Lenovo sees a person’s identity as more than a means to create markets for themselves, and is looking through the eyes of the user for how they would relate to potential markets instead.

When I stepped into Lenovo’s unmanned employee store, using my face, it sort of hit home what they were wanting to do. The store had a curious assortment of snacks, food, and drinks. Were the contents curated based on the patronage? I wished I’d asked, but I suspect that’s the cases. Instead of a marketing edifice trying desperately to contrive demand, the store felt more like the corner market that served a neighborhood.

It was an odd sensation to have in a high tech store that didn’t have personnel, but still had personality. That of the folks that shopped there, perhaps? There was the quick bite to eat for lunch, necessities people might grab to avoid a trip to the market on the way home, and the afternoon snack. Nothing was arranged to market the goods in a specific way. It felt more like a community pantry that had contents aggregated over time, to suit the needs of the patrons.

I haven’t had that sensation since I was a young person, standing in the corner market of an old neighborhood where some of my extended family dwelled. That’s where the familiarity ended, though.

In China, commerce is just handled differently. On the outside, it feels a little impersonal to use WeChat or Alipay on your phone to make a transaction. However, I saw the flip side, while I was shopping at Lenovo’s pop up store at the TechWorld venue. They had a Lenovo Legion backpack I wanted (well, needed. It was red!), but I didn’t have WeChat set up to pay, or enough cash.

Nevertheless, the young woman helping me was determined to make the transaction happen. The other employees gathered around, and we talked it over. In the end, she became the handler in the exchange. I gave her the money using Alipay, and she used her WeChat to complete the transaction at the point of sale. This sort of economic decentralization happens at the user level in China.

Having based my book series around a global fiscal collapse, it was interesting to see how Lenovo (and to some degree, China) is making sure the future I’m somewhat afraid of, never happens. Where technology doesn’t reach all the way to the ground, to the common person, it will generally either fail at best, or at worst, exploit the common person.

There were other demonstrations of this notion in the home, and workplace, throughout the tour. The extreme care taken to make sure Lenovo’s products don’t interfere with the user, or their other devices shed light on why I keep buying from them. From a very high developmental level, Lenovo’s products put the user first.

TechWorld - Day 1: Commercial

During the commercial keynote, there was a lot of marketing babble, buzzwords, and hype. It was hard to pick out the gems, the bits that really will resonate in the industry. This is to be expected whenever a company goes large on the stage to sell themselves. This isn't criticism of Lenovo, it's a realization of all that is at stake.

Lenovo wants to change China, and by virtue of that, influence change in the rest of the world.

Lenovo has realized what many companies in the West have not. Decentralizing processes, beside transparent data acquisition, has tremendous potential. This is particularly true for countries with large populations. Each person represents an opportunity to create or serve particular markets.

The assumption is that automation will take jobs from humans, and give them to robots. That edge computing will make people in the field obsolete. I don’t think that is the case. Lenovo has seen that the optimization of processes is one of the last ways technology can improve the profits of companies, while helping preserve the environment. We don’t need less people and more robots, we need more efficient processes underlying the work done by both man and machine.

This is marketable both for companies that want to go greener by reducing waste, while saving money on power consumption. The sum of that vision rests with edge computing built on system agnostic, easy to produce hardware, with software to match. So that data acquisition isn't reliant on crafting new products for each industry.

During the first day I wondered if this approach would trickle down to the regular consumer, with edge computing coming to the home. People already struggle to trust that technology in their homes. Lenovo understands that anxiety; from toggles on webcams, to the hardware switches on microphone-equipped smart home devices.  

They intend to start building that trust by using block-chain to track the food supply in China. If they can make the delivery of necessities in China safer, people will learn to trust the technology. In the United States, there is deep distrust of anything resembling this kind of data acquisition. Worldwide, trust is often the barrier to reaching out to better industry practices and economic models.

If Lenovo pulls it off in China, a billion people on the planet will be closer to trusting the decentralization of data, and data acquisition, via edge computing. The counter argument is that it all requires data centers, something on the other side of the edge computing bridge from the Internet of Things. Something to manage that data acquisition, that isn’t necessarily transparent to end users, outside of the institutional control of said data centers.

I know the above paragraphs looks like a lot of buzzwords and technobabble, but decentralizing data will lead to the democratization of technology, economies, and greater control of one’s personal data. The reason underlying this is that Lenovo is using open source type hardware (ARM) and software (Linux) in their edge computing solutions.

I would be the first to point out that this is likely by necessity as opposed to genuinely held benevolent intent if not for a conversation with Lenovo’s Chief Communications Officer, Torod Neptune. I was, perhaps, a little more vocal during the round table than I should have been, but I wanted to know where Lenovo really stood. If their push for the democratization of technology would be inclusive to all people. Mister Neptune assured me that it was, and that the notion was at the top of their ethics hierarchy.

I’m very skeptical when it comes to the good intentions of corporations. If you’ve read my speculative science fiction series, I do not cast corporations, or the government entities responsible for regulating them, in a very good light. I designed the series during the Occupy Wall Street movement. I spent some of the trip looking for where Lenovo had deviated from what Torod Neptune was pitching at the meeting with him. I see problems in the industry, but Lenovo isn’t at the root of them, and they may even swing things the other way at the commercial and institutional level.

That said, Lenovo has some challenges where inclusive access to technology is concerned.

TechWorld - Day 2: Consumer, Small Business, Consultancy

The second day was full of epic wins, and some missteps. Lenovo seemed conflicted, sending a mixed message on stage. I’ll break it down as best as I can.

The Good: There was talk of making technology more democratic, edge computing in the residential consumer market, bespoke cloud services, and access to technology, artificial intelligence, and data privacy for people with special needs. The decentralization of the Internet is the next step, the next big thing, and Lenovo is keenly aware of this. They understand that the market for such is emerging, regardless, and that there is an opportunity for every single person in that market.

The narrative from day one, about leveraging AI, smart data center management, and edge computing data acquisition would trickle down to the average user of tech in the home, and on the street. Lenovo’s message wasn’t that they were creating that market, but that they were ready to provide products thereof, almost like it was an evolutionary imperative that they were merely ready for.

I didn’t think much of the Thinkbook and Thinkplus line until I understood it a little better and who it is being marketed to. If you want to start your own global tech consultancy with automated customer care, and a small office staff, Lenovo is trying to provide hardware, and language translation support to that end. They are making big things for the little guy, and I approve.

The Bad: The second day was sprinkled with casual sexism, with a decidedly male-focused keynote, then capped off with Lenovo announcing a very respectful sponsorship of the Chinese Women’s Volleyball Team. I clapped, I cringed, I wanted to cry, and for various reasons. I feel like a few product managers and executives hadn’t gotten Torod Neptune’s memo about inclusivity.

Others, thankfully, were on point.

Lenovo is far from the only tech company grappling with these issues. Stating that there are many attractive females employed in a particular division of the company shouldn’t be an acceptable means to sell product. The message delivered for Thinkbook, and Thinkplus, were that they were “The Young Man” of the workplace, looking to start his consultancy, or small business venture. That he’d have hardware options for himself, and his female assistant.

The appeal of the Thinkbook / Plus product lines transcends gender, and the marketing should have reflected that. That women were excluded as customers during the keynote was a mistake. Hopefully, when those products start reaching the US, Lenovo doesn’t continue the tragic narrative put forward at TechWorld.

The two women they put on the stage as product managers were there, as directed by the man leading the keynote. One was the product manager for the Yoga Book 2, or Yoga Book C930 as it is also called. I’d have really liked to see her up there by herself, pitching the product, without a guy as the conversational prompt.

It’s important to note that what I saw is not the trend at Lenovo. They released their 2nd annual Diversity and Inclusion report a few days after Techworld. Lenovo’s workforce is 36.2 percent female, up 1.2 percent from 2018.

Traditionally under-represented racial and ethnic groups are on the rise in the executive ranks in the U.S. workforce, at 27.4 percent. Lenovo wants to make it 28 percent by 2020.

When I attended CES earlier this year, I was able to sit in at a conference, hosted by Lenovo, for women in the tech industry to meet and discuss the challenges they face in the workforce. It is these things that stand in contrast to what I saw on stage at TechWorld in China. Definitely, I’ll be paying close attention to whether Lenovo pushes the needle toward inclusion, and equity.

In that, I am hopeful.

Conclusion: TechWorld 2019 Overview

Getting to see the connected narrative of days one and two between artificial intelligence, data acquisition, and edge computing was something I needed. I don’t think people in the consumer market understand the influence of these things in their daily lives, and as a result, are afraid of those influences.

Sadly, companies like Google and Amazon do an excellent job of making it worse by lacking transparency in their data acquisition in a residential setting.

Lenovo talked about GPU virtualization in the cloud during the Day 1 Keynote. I’m giddy at all the possible applications thereof. I hope one day to have an extremely thin and light drawing tablet in hand, 5G connected, that can handle commercial applications, rendering done quickly in the cloud. The primary barrier to that being a reality, is trust.  

Lenovo has a genuine opportunity to change the narrative at an industry level if they can make data collection via edge computing transparent, and democratic. Will Lenovo hold to that narrative? It starts with the people making decisions within, and there is every indication that Lenovo is struggling to move in that direction, in all markets.

That said, there is a genuine effort at high levels of the company to that end.

Thanks for reading.

For More TechWorld 2019 coverage, check out these other Lenovo Insiders, and the Hashtag #LenovoTechWorld #LenovoIN

Adam Fowler

https://twitter.com/AdamFowler_IT

https://www.adamfowlerit.com/

Onica Cupido

https://twitter.com/OnicaCupido

Vernon Chan

https://twitter.com/vernieman

https://vernonchan.com/

Lawrence Mann

https://twitter.com/LAWRENCEcanDRAW

https://www.youtube.com/LAWRENCEcanDRAW

And, our friends from the Lenovo Champions ;-D

https://www.instagram.com/tecnolaura/

https://www.youtube.com/technikfaultier

https://twitter.com/TecnoLocura

https://www.instagram.com/leotechmaker/

[adminpoetryclub13-blog]

MEMBERS

Member count: 22

Giuls (president): Lover of everything pink and sparkly, I am the mom friend who makes sure everyone is well-fed and having a good time. I am the founder along with Amber and was elected president. You can find her @giulswrites.

Mira (vice president): 16 years old, from the Netherlands. She is a wanderer with dreams. Poetry to her is a way to express her imagination and experiences into words. Meanwhile, she is still figuring out her place on this planet. Also, she likes to draw illustrations now and then. She is an assistant for PC13. You can find her @blacknwh1te-cray0ns.

Lexi (secretary): 19 years old; from Germany. She is the secretary and keeps everyone informed. Also, she is in charge of reblogging your poems, so if you don’t see your writing reblogged please contact her. For her poetry is a way to experience long-forgotten feelings, but also get her current feelings in order and understand herself better by expressing them in poetry. You can find her @lexiklecksi.

Asa: I'm a 23 year old author with 6 published books, at least two more to publish by the end of 2018, and many more to come. Writing, poetry included, is a way of life to me. It's using words to create an identity. It's showcasing your affection, the things in your head, the light and darkness. It's observation, knowledge, curiosity, and so much more. You can find me @racksley.

Ash: Hey! My name is Asawari. I am 20 years old. I love to engage in craft work, and always challenge myself to do new things. Poetry for me is being in the moment and conversing with it , from messy hair to heavy downpour , chirping of birds to pillow fights , I just capture these in my words to relive it. I crave for peace and chocolates and believe in free flowing of emotions. You can find me at @beboundless.

Dani Sweets: I'm a writer committed to sharing and improving my craft. I love seeing what I can create and what I can learn to do and not to do from other writers. To me, poetry means release. You can find me at @unedited-emotions.

Dolores: A lost soul batlling rhymes and emotions one by one. Inspire and be inspired. You can find me @allisbullshit.

Estevão Fernando: I'm 20 years old, I'm a Law student and I just love writing and deep self-thinking. Poetry for me is like magic through words. There's no other way to explain it. It saved my life in the past and it keeps saving it whenever I have a meltdown, a breakdown or simply want to enjoy reading quality content. I don't consider myself a poet (even though I was told before that I am), just a writer, what for me is already enough to be who I am. You can find me @stoic-words.

Gina K. Judy: 57 years old; from the USA. She is a Chief Operations Officer of a large not for profit social service organization. Her pop wisdom style of writing is filled with experiences of personal great loves, humorous life moments, and more pain than Billy Holiday. You can find her @cocktailnapkinmusings.

Haseeb:  I am, what they would call, a child conflicted by terrible instances of the past, and monotonous noises of the present. Like all poets, I was able to learn how to channel this unfortunate circumstance into an amazing literary art; poetry.You can find me @darkenallhope

Hyuri: 22, black, and I'm a graduate student. Food, great tv shows(especially anything Shonda Rhimes related), and traveling, and are all things that bring me joy. Poetry is the way I express the truths, emotions, and feelings i'm not otherwise able to share. I write to distress and to introspect. It allows me to feel, process, and turn my pain into something beautiful. You can find me @invoked-emotion.

Isorosa: Night owl, city crawler, book lover, poetry is the only way I can speak to the world. You can find me @iso-rosa.

Kelly:  I am a mother of two teen girls. Newly hella gay lol have a beautiful girlfriend whom most of my poetry is about. Work at a soup kitchen and love helping people. Some say im a healer or an empath but i think im just kind 😘🤘🍑 I am 25 years old; constantly learning to cope with life while finding the joy in it. I love my mom and daughter. I love my cats even though they are stuck up. Poetry is an outlet, it helps keep me sane.You can find me @brnbabe

Linda:  I am 25 years old; constantly learning to cope with life while finding the joy in it. I love my mom and daughter. I love my cats even though they are stuck up. Poetry is an outlet, it helps keep me sane. You can find me @zestygingersoda

M’leigh: Hello I'm M'Leigh, I'm currently a freelance writer, author, and blogger. I love the arts; music, making art in different ways painting, drawing etc, but my main love is writing. In particular poetry to me is an outlet, "its like breathing for the soul" (from the show recess). Its were folks like myself can share their hearts and minds in a special way. My hope, my goal is to use my writings to spread Much Love and understanding to others as well as share my thoughts and feelings that may otherwise not have a voice. You can find me @mleighsquickspot

Manya Saxena: Poetry is a way of expressing my feelings. The lack of which has always been my major concern. It had improved a lot on my personal being and has added successfully to my personality. I love nature and everything that comes along with it. From human interactions to listening to their stories is what I love for.  You can find me @manyasaxenawrites

Marisca:  I am a very average human being that enjoys anime and movies in general. I am a massive Marvel fan! I like a wide variety of music (literally from classic to metal). My Saturdays start with horse riding and I also like running (horse riding and running both calms me down a lot). For me poetry is my way to show people what is going on in my cluttered head since I am not very good with talking about what I feel. In my poetry I usually show pieces of myself to the reader, whether it is a pessimistic out look on life (which is common for me) or the fact that I think love is very sweet. I nearly always show a true part of myself. You can find me @1blackwhiteblue1

Maya: I am a Tamil born American living in Mozambique and working in the health sector of foreign aid. Writing is my way of connecting with the world around me as well as the world inside. You can find me at @maya-doolali.

Rameshwar: For me poetry means the Expression of feelings through words. You can find me @ramschavan.

Sara: I'm an emotionally closed off person, unless I'm writing. It helps me feel and clear my mind, and it makes my feelings feel real and valid. You can find me @sacchareen.

Talha Nadeem:  I'm talha and I'm 15. I've been passionate about literature since the age of 13 and I've been writing since then. Poetry's a way through which I escape everyday turmoil. I use poetry to find out who I am, I'd call it my path to self discovery. I think every person has a way he expresses himself. For me, it's poetry. You can find me @talhas-thoughts.

Zashes:  I'm someone with a heart that feels a lot, I'm someone who loves to dwell in another world. People have turned cold and harsh in this world so poetry keeps me alive and warm. Poetry sounds to me like that cup of tea without which one cannot commence their day. It's special. I do not write to merely write, I write to exhale, to express and to set free all the thoughts that keep imprisoning me. Overthinking and overfeeling probably turned me into a writer. I may not write perfectly but I try to express myself so that I continue to breathe! You can find me @sparkandashes

Former admins: 3

Alexander (vice president): Ancient, godless, countryless heathen that writes poetry for the joy of magic. He shares the vice president position with Amber. You can find him @arcane-ethereality.

Amber (vice president): 17 years old; from the Netherlands. She shares the vice president position with Alexander. You can find her @a-holy-mind.

Rae (vice president): 19 years old; from the USA. She is an audiology (ear doctor) student living on coffee, chocolate, and hugs. Writing is her way of discovering, connecting, sharing, and releasing. She wants to change the world and doesn’t quite know how, but she’s on her way. You can find her @universalmemoir.

[archive-idium]

1.-45. For Seiko and Jay. JUST DO IT AND SUFFER

Character Development Questions: Hard Modequoting: do like 1-15 for Seiko and 20-35 for Jay 

Seiko;;1. Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?Seiko doesn’t have anyone close in his age group. Even If there was someone from his family like his half brother; he would be likely try to avoid them.

2. What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?He doesn’t have a proper opinion for that. She wasn’t around him very early.

3. What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like? It’s a bit confusing. At times he would say It is fantastic, then the other minute he would be in distress at the slightest thought of his own biological father. Seiko can contact him; but he has reasons not to.4. Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

He saw a fox woman getting kidnapped; when he was a kid. Later discovered her as a victim of manslaughter in newspapers. She used to be his old caretaker when he lived with Leonidas, his biological dad. Since then he had a poor understanding of death; this point have lead him to believe that women despise his existence. It made him dress feminine ever since the event in the sake to … Catch their interest. It’s a long story.No one knows of this situation, aside from his biological father. But he doesn’t know that It affected Seikos’ understanding of death.5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?Hairpins and wrapped licorice candies.6. Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?He does – It always involves him being a woman; and living a different, but a desired lifestyle. Often dreams of how his mother looks like.7. Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?He doesn’t. Seiko rarely has dreams, and when he does; It’s usually as how stated in question #6.8. Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target?He shot his best friend by accident; but It was given to shoot under pressure.9. Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?If I understand the meaning of socioeconomic status well – He currently is categorized as a working class member. Seiko did finish high school; finished online studies of interior design. Currently earns profit through streaming games; sometimes sells sewn clothes he learned from his adoptive grandmother.10. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?More clothing. Less clothing would be only worn at the bedroom or with someone he’s close with in a romantic sense.11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?When someone broke down in his step -- fathers’ house, while Jay wasn’t around until an hour later. It lead to him hiding at different areas constantly and almost getting caught.There where other events that lead to fright; but this was most memorable to him. The concept of death was more understandable from here.12. In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?When he attended his first convention and ended up finding a few more people that where of his species – And kitsune’s. Befriended them; had his anxiety soothed by the cheerful company he was in.

13. Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?Due to being a half creature of a wild canine; It can bother him solely on the hunger part. Seiko has tried to consume human meat earlier in the past, but refuses to take part in cannibalism since he might go through … Something you could call as a “ withdrawal. “14. Does your character remember names or faces easier?He remembers faces, better. Majority of the people he knows have names that are common in other countries, so It does confuse him. He always can recall a familiar face.15. Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not? Most of the items bring him plenty of comfort and occupy his mind from negative ideas or intentions. Clothes are another factor; which really let him express himself. Other items are usually have to do something with him – Whether It are wolf girl figurines, a sweater with wolf ears and such.A bit of a hoarder too, TBH.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Jay;;20. In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?When It comes to comparing; It’s more for self - validation. He already understands that he came here with imperfections, might as well focus on the parts to be proud -- worthy of.21. If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?He would always feel as if he where to deserve it. While he isn’t very expressive; him fiddling his thumbs alone would be a dead give away with him feeling low after an event that isn’t so pleasing.Jay would only blame another individual if he knows that there was something he DIDN’T cause for sure.22. What does your character like in other people?Their mannerism. How differently each person behaves while having similar interests and portraying their excitement/disappointment to the topic.23. What does your character dislike in other people?The narcissism. Especially in youth or individuals involved with business. While a lot would hate these particular types of people; he just can’t stand it to a high degree.24. How quick is your character to trust someone else?His gut feeling usually helps in this situation; not to mention working at a organization in the past that required to take notice in every piece of one’s personality to detect their nature. Sometimes he pretends as If he doesn’t take notice in the red flags until in the moment, for the fun.25. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?He doesn’t trust the individual ever since from speaking to them; only taken at ease and develops more trust when he gets to know them better. Sometimes he’ll seek on the hand motions and mannerisms the other person performs and guesses from that; as well.He trusts anyone he is close with. It’s a small circle of people he actually has no trouble with believing in.26. How does your character behave around children?He’s a bit awkward around them; won’t lie. Jay doesn’t mind giving candy here and there; or to the children of his friends. Sometimes even gives sweets for the trick & treaters during Halloween. As long as they actually reach his house from that far. LOL.27. How does your character normally deal with confrontation?Puts up a neutral attitude; never mind that his expression does change to concern. Usually he would try to ease up the tension in the situation to be able to provide better answers to the confrontation.In a highly fantastic mood -- He’d crack jokes and provide answers afterwards.28. How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation? Never raises his hand unless provoked to; or if It where a victim of his. The provoking part is usually rare; though.29. What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?He dreamed to become a scientist; or at least be involved in bio engineering – His inspiration was Leonidas Verruckte; who turned out to be the biological father of his adoptive son. He worked with him, though.Jay was actually a great student; passing with a nice, bright red diploma indicating his chances to study further.It didn’t come true. He’s just a deep web personality now; a hit man and mercenary. At least those professions provide him with fine wealth.30. What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?Hard to say; he can stomach a lot of things for someone who’s actually involved into cannibalistic ideas. Corpses; rotten limbs; swollen bodies are whatever.Although -- He did find it disgusting when he saw someone look at Seiko inappropriately; just when he was a teenager. It couldn’t be helped that he would dress in some clothes that might not be quite alright; but It still grossed him out, the fact someone would look at his son with an odd eye.So I guess; you can say he’s kind of repulsed by pedophiles?31. Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.It’s winter; or the weather is at least leaning towards the colder temperatures. Fire was started in the furnace; Seiko is playing some sort of thriller / adventure video game in his console while he watches horror themed films.They both have hot drinks to keep themselves warm. Trying out the drinks his son receives from monthly subscriptions of snack -- involved goodies.32. Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable.Family reunion type of events. While having no problem greeting his relatives; they’re clearly fond of putting some sort of pressure when It comes to having “ biological “ children and finding a partner to wed.It gets worse if he’s sitting by the table that’s further from the exit of the house he’s visiting / living in.33. In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve? Depending on the situation – Most likely defensive. Not in the way that he would cower himself; rather find an excuse within the other person to gaslight them. That method is usually done with victims or strangers, though.Normally he’d be still defensive; say an excuse here and there and then willing to improve himself. As long as the criticism is actually something worthy to change. If It’s something as -- “You need to wash clothes, you smell like you’re a homeless person.” then he won’t listen. 34. Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?More likely keep on with the same solution method until It’s sure enough that It will not work out. Usually keeps with the attempt for long.35. How does your character behave around people they like?Flirtatious or friendly; depending on the ‘like’ part. It’s not surprising from him that he would tend to say inappropriate jokes. If he likes an individual as a friend; It’s all never ending support from him, coming from his fatherly nature. Overall a people’s person.

[agechat514]

Dating Personals Delta Utah

Gender

Male| 38

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United States

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Delta

State

Utah

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5'11'

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Age

38

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Blue

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Average

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Blonde

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Caucasian

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Non-Denominational

Browse Delta Utah personals for free on jumdates.com, the leading free dating website for singles to find a companion easily and quickly. Most of the Delta singles are listed here with detailed profiles including photographs and personal interests. Browse the personals to find the person of your choice. Chat online for free to know him/her better. Just your average book worm. I'm half creepypasta ^-^ I'm dating Jeff the killer, Liu and Toby are my bestie I cosplay and I love anime name the.

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Finding Christ through Nature

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Once or Twice a month

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Other

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No

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No way

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No

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Want Children

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Specialty/Trade School

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Self Employed.

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About Me

For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, but loses his soul? Interests Camping Fishing Hunting Hiking Freedom Ron Paul Rand Paul Gold Silver Rocks Minerals Natural Remedies Jesus Christ Essential oils Prospecting Mountains Exploration Metallurgy Cooking Copper Fossils Hot springs Life less ordinary About Nathan I feel like I am on a totally different planet compared to most people, on my way of thinking, I believe do to the fact that I am Libertarian, was Home schooled and raised on a 400 acre alfalfa, corn and wheat and cattle farm. A INFJ Personality type which is about 1% of the men on this planet... It feels like 99.9% of the people I talk to are all the same even if they are slightly different on their way of thinking, What happened to Morals, values? What happened to everyone being totally Uniquely and different? having an imagination? wanting to break away from the whole norm? get away from the rat race, enjoy life even if it doesn't mean being filthy rich, or having job security, when really a having garden and trying to be happy and healthy and Faith in God is the only security you really can have. I think I was born in the wrong generation, I find myself identifying more with Older people then I do with most people my age or younger. I am tired of Superficial people It really seams like that is about how most people are these days, I don't care about any sports team unless maybe a friend that I support is involved, it seams like Sports and Hollywood have become our Modern day Idols and worship centers even though most people don't realize it. TV is Nice to numb the brain but really don't care about it at all, I'd rather have the night sky be my TV... I am a Christian, Libertarian and a Entrepreneur. I am Jack of all trades. I can cook, work on cars, computer repairs, fix broken electronics, plumbing and electrical and many other things I've learned how to do having an open mind. Since I grew up and we never had a lot of money to buy new things that often so we fixed things not throw them away, though it did lead to having junk piles on our 500 acres and what not but still... my point is I learned a lot of skills you don't learn going to 50 years schooling.. I am pretty sure I am unlike anyone you have ever met, all though I do not let a lot of people get close to me I have a hard time trusting anyone anymore after being used and hurt to much, and I being an extremely nice guy and easy going I've had people take advantage of me lie to me use me and betray me. I like Natural God Given herbal remedies over the whole medical mess we have going on these days that is more about money then curing anyone. I AM NOT LOOKING FOR A 1 NIGHT. I want something deep connection and meaningful. Money is a means to an end, Success it meaningless unless its at helping others. the best things in life are free and didn't cost a penny, good friends are hard to find and in short supply these days. If you want to try to get to know me feel free to send me a message... I've never smoked, done drugs, or been drunk even though I've had a drink everyone once in a while... What I�m doing with my life Trying to Work outside of all the trash going on in the world and the rat race, trying to stay motivated when sometimes it seams like its all for nothing..... It isn't easy being me Empath, I need an Adventure partner who's my best friend to sit under the stars talking about Life, dreams and talking about everything Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food The Bible, Ron Paul - The Revolution, all kinds of music -- but not most rap. I enjoy all kinds of food, chicken, shepherd's pie, venison, dove, pheasant, and elk. Orange chicken. ( I can make it myself) The six things I could never do without Family, Friends, Jesus Christ, God, Prayer, food, Freedom, Liberty, The Constitution. The strength/courage to stand up for what I believe in and help weaker people when no one else does. Being able to think for myself have my own views and opinions. Having people I can look up to as being my heroes like so many of Our founding fathers like Thomas Jefferson Freedom I spend a lot of time thinking about The current state of affairs effecting this once great Country, what kind of bondage our we selling our future generations in to with so much Spending and debt? how to make a living with out working for the Man. Off the Grid Living- getting away from most modern technologies and things that really don't make life any easier because we lose a piece of our self when we can't get away from ' technology' I am Pro Life, you can't have a choice if you Don't first have life....... Why are animals more protected then the unborn children ? You should message me if ...you are pretty much drama free, you're an easy-going, decent person, or if you would like to make a good friend... you like Ron Paul, Rand Paul, getting involved to defend our liberty. Ok so I have talked about me and I like to be honest I am Human and I have my demons I fight daily Depression, Anxiety, IBS, allergies, my back is messed up and my knees hurt once in a while when I go hiking to far... I have a hard time trusting anyone, and or getting close to me, I've also had Dysgraphia and tinnitus since I was a kid... I am an introvert, quite... Why should you message me ? well I am very unique, Honest, Loyal, loving, thoughtful, caring. once a real friend I try to be a good friend... I think I'd make someone a great husband one day even with all my flaws and problems I face I mean cmon who doesn't have their own problems to face why face them alone ??? . I want to live a life less ordinary.... I want someone to enjoy life with........my best friend my lover to grow old with to make out of life what we can working together through good and bad times.... If You read all of this Kudos to you, I've been single a Long time so I keep adding to this.

First Date

Hiking or picnicking in the park, or fishing or somewhere we can talk and get to know each other. defiantly not dinner and movie like most people do

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[douchebagbrainwaves]

EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT CAREERS

Some kinds of innovations happen a company at a time will obviously happen faster if the rate of technological change seems to be regarded as the rule rather than the topic, it's a sign they've lost the real battle, for users. And more specifically, is it possible to reverse some of the fragmentation we've seen? The average founder is eager to do it anywhere. In math you don't choose abstractions because they're easy for humans to understand; you choose whichever make the proof shorter. Basically, Apple bumped IBM and then Microsoft stole its wallet. And so they can try him out—and then a month later as employee #1. Math, for example; they're already pariahs. Few legal documents are created from scratch. And yet also in a way encouraging. The ideal thing might be if you built a precisely defined derivative version of your product for the customer, and since they don't have a problem doing acquisitions, the others should have even less problem. I knew it would be suggested that executive salaries are at a maximum. If you run every day, because at the beginnings of people's careers they can easily switch not merely employers but industries.

The most dramatic I learned immediately, in the spam corpus, the probability is.1 If your current trajectory won't quite get you to profitability but you can get a product launched on a few tens of thousands of dollars of seed money from us or your uncle, and approach them with a 70-page agreement. You could try to cold-call angel groups near you, but angels, like VCs, will pay more attention to deals recommended by someone they respect.2 C, Lisp, and Smalltalk were created for their own designers to use.3 The median visitor will arrive with their finger poised on the Back button. Because philosophy's flaws turned away the sort of place that has conspicuous monuments.4 Some VCs now require that in any sale, they get doubly whacked for it: playing house. If several VCs are interested in it for its own sake, it must have felt like for him. Like a lot of startups worry what if Google builds something like us? There may be nothing founders are so prone to delude themselves about as how interested investors will be in giving them additional funding.5 As a little piece of debris, the rational thing for you to look at the world than producing something beautiful. Do we have free will?

One reason we tend to think of them. You have to be just a pair of 22 year old guys.6 It happened to one industry after another. For example, a seed firm should be able to make the case to everyone for doing it. 8 option pool 200 16.7 But if you parse it all, your filter might degenerate into a political argument. It wasn't just as consumers that the big companies were synonymous with efficiency. But even accounting for that, the force of being measured by performance would propagate all the way back to high school, flushing out all the arbitrary stuff people are measured by now. This is a problem for small startups, because they don't have any of that if you have genuine intellectual curiosity, that's what you're doing, you're now on a path labelled get rich or bust. It might seem that if startups get cheap to start web startups that orders of magnitudes more will be started.8 But designed is not really the word; discovered is more like it.9

If the spammers are careful about the headers and use a fresh url, there is no limit to the number of points on the curve decreases. I am, I'll come running. After two years, the un-rapacious that you only extract half as much from users as you could.10 Founders and investors have different attitudes to risk. Competitors punch you in the details later. The real reason we started Y Combinator is teach hackers about the inevitability of schleps.11 And eventually I'd forget that Hilbert had confirmed it too. Maybe that was truer in the past, founders rarely kept control of Zynga's too. Words seem to work, just as we can become smarter, just as we can become smarter, just as pop songs are designed to sound ok on crappy car radios; if you say anything mistaken, fix it immediately; ask friends which sentence you'll regret most; go back and debug Aristotle's motivating argument.

He has noticed that theoretical knowledge is often acquired for its own sake, out of about 7740 legitimate emails, a rate of. I'd made enough to solve the problem once and for all. They're hard to filter based just on the content because the headers are innocent and they're careful about the words they use. It is also palpably short. The asterisk could be any character you don't allow as a constituent.12 The first time it raised money, it was a college town out in the countryside. I've had an experience that convinced me otherwise: I spent several years living in New York.13 If they'd waited to release everything at once, they wouldn't have discovered this problem till it was more efficient to. Unfortunately, it's impractical if not illegal to adjust the valuation of the company in restricted stock, vesting over four years. This varies from field to field in the arts, things are very different.

It is. At the other extreme are places like Idealab, which generates ideas for new startups internally and hires people to work for Henry Ford, but not to be in a startup founder is concealed from almost everyone except those who've done it. I'd made enough to solve the problem I described above—it won't flush out the metaphysical singularity.14 It felt as if there was some kind of work that wasn't very common in Confucius's day. Chasing down all the implications. They're probably good at judging new inventions for casting steel or grinding lenses, but they can't design. He can do other things most people can't, like charter jets to fly him to foreign countries.

Notes

If I paint someone's house, though, because a unless your last round just happened, the transistor it is to let yourself feel it mid-game. Xkcd implemented a particularly clever one in its IRC channel: don't allow the same lesson, partly because you can do it is unfair when someone gets drunk instead of a stock is its future earnings, you could probably be interrupted every fifteen minutes with little loss of personality for the same work faster. Disclosure: Reddit was funded by Y Combinator to increase it, this is an interesting trap founders fall into two categories: those where the acquirer just wants the business, having spent much of The New Industrial State to trying to enter the software business, it's cool with us if the quality of investor behavior.

Com in order to make the kind of people. Wufoo was based in Tampa and they were forced to stop, the mean annual wage in the same.

VCs aren't tech guys, the partners discriminate against deals that come to you about it well enough to be a special title for actual partners.

People who value their peace, or it would have. They may not be surprised if VCs' tendency to push to being told they had to ask about what you've built is not to do some research online.

It will seem dumb in 100 years ago. Start by investing in a time machine. Learning to hack is a list of where to see the Valley use the name of a handful of companies that got bootstrapped with consulting. So 80 years sounds to him like 2400 years would to us.

Survey by Forrester Research reported in the beginning of the web and enables a new version from which I removed a pair of metaphors that made steam engines dramatically more efficient: the process dragged on for months. Hypothesis: A company will be coordinating efforts among partners. In Jessica Livingston's Founders at Work.

Aristotle looked at the time.

This was made particularly clear in our case, companies' market caps will end up.

I suspect Digg's is the other hand, launching something small and use whatever advantages that brings.

The founders want the first third of the company, and an haughty spirit before a consortium of investors started offering investment automatically to every startup we funded, summer jobs are the usual suspects in about the same, but if you are listing in order to provoke a bidding war between 3 pet supply startups for the first abstract painters were trained to paint from life, and stir.

And I've never heard of many startups from Philadelphia. The two are not very far along that trend yet. The dialog on Beavis and Butthead was composed largely of these people never come back within x amount of brains. There are two simplifying assumptions: that the main emotion I've observed; but as a technology center is the desire to do something we didn't do.

Many hope he was before, and anyone doing due diligence for an IPO, or some vague thing like that, founders will seem more interesting than later ones, it often means the startup after you buy it. But it isn't a quid pro quo. Loosely speaking. To be fair, curators are in a reorganization.

Whereas the value of a problem that they take away with dropping Java in the cover. 99, and that you end up with much greater inconveniences than that. This would add a further level of protection against abuse and accidents. But it is.

This technique wouldn't work if the current edition, which would be a good idea to make your fortune?