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needtherapy · 3 years

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open always petal by petal (ch 1)

Song Lan knows his only passenger, Cao Huan, is more secrets than truths, but he's still the best passenger Song Lan has ever had: paid up front, self-sufficient, and silent.

It shouldn't matter that Cao Huan plays the guqin like his heart is broken.

It shouldn't matter that his smiles light up the darkest corners of Fuxue's passageways.

It shouldn't matter that he makes Song Lan curious, curious in a way he hasn't felt in years.

It's just an ordinary transport, a regular fare, a mostly-honest way to make a living. All they have to do is get from Sichuan Station to Caiyi Port. The galaxy may be a dangerous place, but Song Lan is very good at his job, and this should be an easy two-week trip.

The rest doesn't matter. It doesn't.

READ ON AO3

Notes: Rated E for Explicit. Title from e.e. cummings' poem "somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond". Thanks to @cirilien, @coslyons, @treemaidengeek and tucuxi (AO3) for the beta reads!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

⋆ Day 0 ⋆

The papers are fakes, Song Lan thinks, but damn good ones. It’s really only the feel of the paper—a bit too clean, a bit too smooth—that tips him off. The ID badge is probably fake too.

He examines the man standing in front of him. He’s handsome in a patrician sort of way, if a bit too thin, and nearly as tall as Song Lan himself, dressed in graceful Eastern Sector robes that rustle the way only real silk does. They’re a far cry from Song Lan’s utilitarian jacket and comfortable shirts and pants in shades of constant black, only a small step up from the uniform he used to wear.

Song Lan wonders why this obviously wealthy man would need forged travel docs. He doesn’t really care, of course. Everyone has their secrets. But he doesn’t need trouble with the Goldlighters. It’s already tricky enough to be unaffiliated without drawing the attention of the galaxy’s most powerful economic cultivation guild.

With a sigh, Song Lan fishes the comm out of a pocket and holds it to the tiny neural node on the side of his head.

[Why the fake name?] the comm speaker asks in a cheerful, melodic voice that still twinges painfully in his chest. It’s been five years. He should really get the damn thing re-coded.

Instead of being offended, the man—supposedly named Cao Huan—tilts a wry, weary smile at him.

“I had hoped to be anonymous a little longer,” he says, his elegant accent denoting excessive amounts of privilege and education. “If you require my real credentials, I can produce them.”

Song Lan shrugs and shakes his head. As long as the man is legit, he can call himself whatever he wants, but now Song Lan has another question. Frowning, he lifts the comm again.

[Why not just travel on a Goldlighter transport? You’re headed for Caiyi. It’s a major port. You know it’ll take two weeks to travel through all four sectors in my ship? The trip might be more dangerous than on a sanctioned vessel,] Xingchen’s voice asks.

Song Lan is under no illusions about his typical fares. There’s usually a good reason they want to travel without questions, and usually a good reason they choose Fuxue. He might be unaffiliated, but he’s not cheap. The galaxy is a dangerous place, and he’s very good at his job. In ten years, he’s only lost one person. It was, however, the only one who mattered.

“I am returning to my family after...some time away. I am in no hurry,” Cao Huan answers, with an edge that Song Lan takes to mean the topic is closed.

Well, he’s happy to take the man’s money; he paid extra to be the only passenger. Song Lan shrugs again and motions for Cao Huan to follow him on a very short tour: kitchen, guest bedrooms, sonic lavs, the foolishly indulgent bath, infirmary, bridge, engineering, cargo bay, plus half a dozen corridors that serve as storage, computer terminals, short-term passenger seating, and whatever else Song Lan needs them to be. He’s even strung up hammocks in emergencies.

[Make yourself at home,] he says with a nod and quick, slanted smile.

“Thank you Captain Song,” the man says with a wide, genuine smile that starts in the corner of his mouth and spreads, opening like a flower across his face. It surprises Song Lan in a way he can’t quite articulate, as though neither of them expected today to hold any need for smiles. “I have been told you are the best pilot, and I look forward to the journey.”

Song Lan finishes prepping Fuxue with supplies for the two-week flight, plus extras, because it’s always better to plan for the worst. He checks to make sure his one luxury—six skeins of outrageously expensive qiviut yarn—is carefully stowed in waterproof cases. Having warm socks and something to do with his hands in the long dark expanse of space is worth any price. Cao Huan busies himself with loading his own gear, waving Song Lan away when he offers to help.

“Commander Song! Commander Song Lan!”

Song Lan turns at the familiar voice calling a half-forgotten title, but it takes him a minute to recall the person: Ouyang Ju. They had served together some ten years ago in the war that brought down the Wen High Chancellor. Fat lot of good that had done.

“Man, it is you! Haven’t seen you in ages,” Ouyang grins, slapping Song Lan on the back. “How’s it going?”

Song Lan tries not to flinch. He has never understood the need people have to touch each other when they’re talking. It’s annoying. He smiles and tips his head, the universal motion for a polite and disengaged fine, and hopes he won’t have to elaborate. It’s not that he doesn’t like using the comm. He would just rather not use it.

Alright, maybe it’s that he doesn’t like using it.

The man’s face twists with sudden, embarrassed recollection, and Song Lan knows what’s coming next.

“Sorry to hear about your partner and...everything,” the older man says with an apologetic grimace. “He was a great guy.”

[He was,] Song Lan acknowledges, giving in to the blasted voice box. [Thanks.]

“Hey, I’m XO on the Goldlight Ren,” Ouyang nods at the huge transport vessel resting in the nearby docking bay, just visible through wide banks of windows designed, Song Lan assumes, to show off the might and power of the ships that travel here. Nothing like Fuxue, who might be ninety meters if he squints just right, can be flown by a single person, and only requires a landing pad.

“Anything you ever need, you tell me, okay? I owe you.” Without waiting for a response, Ouyang strides away, whistling a fairly dirty bar song.

Song Lan watches him go, wishing it was that easy, wishing he could reduce the war to favors performed, a series of tit-for-tat exchanges that balance to zero instead of a perpetually-red loss column.

Wishes are pointless. Only the road ahead matters.

Song Lan sees his new passenger idly poking through a bag, head dipped away, back turned, and something about his posture rings a distant alarm bell in Song Lan’s mind. He has flown the route from Sichuan Base to Caiyi Port hundreds of times in his life. It should feel exactly the same as every other trip. And yet this time, he senses trouble brewing, and he does not like it.

⋆ Day 3 ⋆

Other than the unexpected music, it’s almost like flying alone. Cao Huan seems to have a sixth sense for knowing where Song Lan will be and avoiding him. He only occasionally catches glimpses of the tall man, white robes swirling behind him as he disappears through doorways or around corners.

It suits Song Lan just fine, and he laughs to himself about his initial concern. Cao Huan is the best passenger Song Lan has ever had: paid up front, self-sufficient, and silent. Song Lan finishes his first sock less than two days out of port, a record.

The only place he consistently runs into his passenger is in the kitchen. After the third day, it occurs to Song Lan that, as strange as it seems, it must be on purpose. Song Lan gets the definite impression that Cao Huan waits for him to arrive before he eats, as though it’s some ceremony he wishes to observe.

There’s no good reason for it, but Song Lan starts to eat his meals at the narrow kitchen table too. After all, there’s no reason not to, either. He just doesn’t usually eat in the kitchen. He’s grateful to discover that conversation is not the reason Cao Huan prefers company; meals continue to be quiet, peaceful affairs.

“Captain Song?”

Cao Huan’s voice startles Song Lan into dropping the knife he’s using to stir his...whatever this goop is.

“My apologies, but...will you join me for tea tomorrow morning? It is not as enjoyable to drink tea by myself.”

Without meaning to, Song Lan looks at the cabinet that contains the “tea” and “coffee,” thinking, it’s never enjoyable to drink that swill, and Cao Huan laughs.

It’s only a laugh on the barest technicality, a soft huff of air, but it changes things so profoundly, Song Lan has trouble staying on his feet. Suddenly, Cao Huan is a person, not a passenger, not a potential problem. The word no forms in his head even as he feels himself nodding.

Cao Huan smiles and inclines his chin, pleased, and Song Lan finds himself smiling back. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s not usually so soft-hearted. Xingchen was the nice one, he reminds himself, and look how that turned out. The cruelty is the only way he can snap himself out of the whispering camaraderie, a pointless train of thought, and back into his role as captain of a ship, nothing more.

[Captain, your attention is required.]

As if to punctuate the computer’s notification, an alarm sounds—unexpected, as this part of space should be smooth and easy sailing. Song Lan grimaces, shrugging apologetically.

“I’m coming,” he signs to the computer’s security camera, before running back to the bridge.

It turns out to be nothing major, only a debris field. Either a small ship had a catastrophe here or a large ship dumped trash. Neither option is particularly heartening. Bad enough if ships are carelessly leaving obstructions on a primary transit route, worse if a ship has been attacked and destroyed here where it should be safe. He knows the Joint Senate is doing its best, and Hanguang-jun, the new chairman, is by far the best leader the four sectors have had in decades, but it’s hard to protect everyone.

There’s no signs of life anywhere after three scans, and Song Lan steers them out of the mess before he resumes course and autopilot.

He doesn’t go back to the kitchen, though.

It isn’t wise, he tells himself, to think of passengers as anything but temporary. Even if they seem nice, even if they’re friendly, they always reach their destination and move on. That’s what he likes about flying transport.

Like clockwork, at 8 pm the music starts. The first night on the ship, Song Lan had thought he was going crazy, hearing the eerie twang of an instrument he didn’t think still existed outside of private art collections.

But no, his passenger had been seated in the mostly-empty cargo bay, eyes closed, playing the guqin. An actual wooden guqin. The music had echoed through the hold, wrapping its notes around Song Lan and reverberating in his chest. He had listened with a mix of disbelief and reverence to the beautiful melody flowing from the fingers of the obviously skilled musician. He listened, in fact, until Cao Huan lifted his hands off the strings and sighed, a long, plaintive sound of grief that piqued Song Lan’s curiosity more than was healthy, and he’d hurried away before Cao Huan noticed him.

The next night had been the same, the music winding into access shafts, around the bridge, even through engineering.

Which Song Lan knows, because he tried all of those places to escape it.

Tonight, though, he gives up. If he is going to be treated to an impromptu concert by a master musician every night, he may as well enjoy it. He knits on the catwalk over the cargo hold and listens, wondering if the song has words, wondering what it means to Cao Huan, wondering how long you had to practice to make the guqin sound like an ocean of sorrow.

⋆ Day 4 ⋆

Evidently, Cao Huan had not been referring to Fuxue’s stores of tea.

He had his own.

Song Lan tells himself to stop being surprised that a man who carries a guqin and can afford a private transport would have a jar of aged white tea that smells like honey and the summer sun. He sits at the table across from Cao Huan and watches him gracefully pour tea, holding back his draping sleeve with one hand.

Cao Huan notices Song Lan’s raised eyebrows.

“You must think me overly indulgent,” he says, pouring his own cup. “I am not particular about many things, but I do enjoy good tea. I am fortunate that it is something my...my family can provide.”

Oh, Song Lan thinks, his family must be tea merchants, which does explain quite a bit, and he feels a little guilty for judging the man on appearances. He wonders if it’s flash-cloned or actually soil-grown, and he peers into the cup, considering the color and shape of the leaves he can see, as though they will give him an answer.

“It is soil-grown,” Cao Huan answers Song Lan’s curious thought, and smiles when Song Lan looks startled. “It is the obvious question. Unless you were seeking your fate in the leaves?”

Song Lan snorts, and Cao Huan laughs again, again that soft exhale that feels more intimate than raucous laughter. It highlights faint lines around his eyes and softens his usually-tranquil angular features with a hint of playful teasing.

“Perhaps you do not believe in fate? Or perhaps you do not believe tea can tell the future. It is considered a noble art, Captain Song. Could so many fortune-telling market grannies be wrong?”

Song Lan laughs, a sadly rusty sound, he thinks with an internal wince, and shakes his head. The man looks pleased.

“Captain Song, may I ask a nosy question?”

Sometimes when people say things like that, they mean I am going to ask a nosy question whether you like it or not, but Cao Huan sounds sincere. Song Lan considers. With a sigh, he finds the comm.

[You may ask. I can’t guarantee that I can answer.]

The man’s mouth twitches in an almost smile. “That is fair. It is only...I noticed you signed to the camera yesterday. Do you…” he pauses, seeming to reevaluate his question, which is good, because Song Lan has frozen.

He forces himself to relax. Hand sign languages are no longer illegal, but he still can’t stop the fluttering fear from pooling in his gut.

“Does the computer understand your hand signs?” Cao Huan finishes, and Song Lan practices breathing normally.

[Yes. It’s easier to sign than find the comm sometimes, especially if I’m in a hurry,] he says through the little speaker, only a little defiantly. He won’t let this man shame him.

“Would you prefer to speak this way?” Cao Huan asks, lifting his hands and signing as he speaks.

Song Lan just stares at him.

And stares.

And stares until Cao Huan’s eyebrows raise. “If you would rather not…”

“No, I do prefer it,” Song Lan signs hurriedly, not wanting him to withdraw the offer. “It’s just...unusual to find someone who knows hand signs these days.”

The High Chancellor had been a paranoid and suspicious man, and he had outlawed the use of hand signs decades ago, fearing them to be the language of bandits and assassins. He wasn’t entirely wrong; hunters and thieves did use the signs, but so did countless others. His replacement, who preferred to be called Xiandu, wasn’t much better. All in all, almost thirty years passed before the current Joint Senate legalized them again after Xiandu’s death three years ago. In so many places around the four sectors, the sign languages that correlated to the spoken languages have been lost entirely.

Song Lan had learned the sign language after Xingchen died five years ago, after he was left for dead, after he decided he was done with the future. His teacher was a wizened old woman on an unaffiliated space station, Rogue Sky, and she was most likely one of the High Chancellor’s feared bandits. Song Lan hadn’t cared then and he didn’t care now. All he knew was that she’d refused to let him wallow in misery, no matter how much he felt he’d earned it.

Song Lan still takes her snowflake cakes whenever he’s near Qinghe space. It’s the least he can do.

Cao Huan nods in acknowledgement, still signing as he talks. Even though it’s unnecessary, Song Lan finds he likes watching, the words and motions blending together to make something wholly different.

“I have always loved languages. This one is particularly beautiful and unique.” He grins suddenly, eyes twinkling with mischief, and the expression turns his face brilliantly luminous. “Plus, it was an appealing novelty to learn something forbidden.”

Song Lan’s first reaction to the man’s captivating smile is an unwelcome surprise. Instinctively, he covers his embarrassment—which he hopes has gone unnoticed—with something he’s more familiar with.

“I did not have the luxury of enjoying the novelty,” his fingers cut angrily through the air. “I was taught illegally on an unaffiliated station by a former bandit, but it was better than never speaking again.”

Swiftly he stands and goes back to his room to berate himself. He isn’t sure which is worse, yelling at his passenger or feeling a knee-buckling surge of desire for him. He has no business doing either.

Song Lan flops on his bed and stares at the ceiling, at the sword that hangs above his head. Shuanghua, Xingchen’s pride and joy, the sword he brought with him when he joined Song Lan’s crew, the sword that couldn’t save him in the end. Couldn’t save either of them. The guilt throbs in his gut, as familiar as the vibrations of Fuxue’s heart, and he sinks into it. This is an emotion he understands.

[Captain, do you need assistance?] his computer asks, and Song Lan wants to laugh. It seems that even Fuxue thinks he’s being a moody child.

He shakes his head and signs to the camera. “What would you do if I did? I’m the captain and the crew.”

The computer is silent, the question apparently having stumped the AI.

[Zichen, do you want to talk about it?]

“No,” his hands say emphatically. He’s not an expert, but he’s pretty sure it’s not going to help to get a psych eval from a computer that’s using his dead partner’s voice.

“Captain Song?”

And now Cao Huan is on the other side of the door. Why can’t everyone just let him sulk in peace?

“Captain Song, I profoundly apologize. It was a terrible, insensitive thing I said, and I am so sorry. It is not an excuse but...I have not been around...people much lately. Evidently I am still quite bad at it. I will not disturb you…”

Song Lan yanks open the door.

“It’s nothing,” he signs slowly, calmly. “I overreacted.” Song Lan smiles ruefully. “I’m not around people much either. Thank you for the tea.”

Cao Huan blinks in surprise, and his face shifts through a series of expressions Song Lan doesn’t recognize before landing on careful neutrality.

“You’re welcome. I...I would be happy to share tea with you every day. If you wish.”

He looks like he’s considering saying something else, but he doesn’t, just nods his head once and goes. Song Lan doesn’t exactly watch him walk down the passageway, one fist resting on the small of his back, but he doesn’t not watch him either.

⋆ Day 5 ⋆

Song Lan is amused to discover that Cao Huan is insatiably curious about everything on Fuxue. It’s not hard to believe he’s been isolated for a while. He is unfailingly polite, and still mostly avoids Song Lan, but occasionally, Song Lan finds him in the oddest places: staring at the engines, examining at the computer core, meditating on the catwalk, sorting through supplies in the infirmary. Song Lan wonders if he’s bored.

He finds Cao Huan on the bridge one day, running his lithe musician’s fingers over the flight panel, murmuring something to himself. Song Lan knows as soon as Cao Huan is aware of his presence. He doesn’t startle, exactly, but he stiffens and steps back slightly. His face, when he turns to Song Lan, though, is tranquil and uncomplicated.

“My pardon, Captain,” he nods, and steps to the side as though he intends to move past Song Lan, but for once, Song Lan is curious.

“Were you talking to Fuxue?” he asks before Cao Huan looks away.

Cao Huan’s neck flushes, and he shrugs. “I have heard these Jian-class AIs have distinctive personalities, as it were. I prefer to err on the side of caution.”

Song Lan doesn’t understand what he means, but Cao Huan is still blushing, the tips of his ears turning a distracting shade of pink, and it makes him want to know.

“I don’t understand,” he says, and Cao Huan sighs.

“I was introducing myself,” he explains. “It seemed courteous.”

Song Lan can’t help his smile. He wonders if Cao Huan introduced himself to Fuxue with his real name.

“Yes, Fuxue is somewhat unique,” he agrees. “My...my partner was a gifted tech, and he gave her more autonomy than is customary since we flew alone so often.”

Cao Huan nods. “So I gathered. She tells me about him sometimes. Is her voice…” he pauses, noticing the look of surprise on Song Lan’s face. “Is that strange?”

Fuxue talks to Song Lan, and of course, she used to talk to Xingchen—one of the reasons, Song Lan suspects, that his ship is so unusual. Talking to Xingchen for extended periods of time would make anyone a bit odd. But as far as he knows, the ship has never spoken to any other passenger, much less talked to them about Xingchen. He can’t decide why Fuxue would start now, whether it’s a bug in the programming or something about Cao Huan specifically.

“Yes,” Song Lan acknowledges. “She still manages to surprise me sometimes.” He smiles up at the camera in the corner of the room and adds, “Don’t make trouble, my love.”

“I believe she likes the music,” Cao Huan says, stepping around Song Lan and moving into the passageway. “I apologize again for intruding on your bridge.” He smiles, a minute flicker, and Song Lan catches his sleeve impulsively, probably foolishly.

“You are welcome on the bridge any time,” he signs swiftly, before Cao Huan can leave. “Whether I am here or not.”

Cao Huan considers for a moment and nods, his smile a little wider, a little more genuine, and Song Lan doesn’t regret his words at all.

⋆ Day 7 ⋆

“How did you learn this?” Cao Huan asks one day, touching the toe of the sock Song Lan is knitting.

They are sitting in the two bridge seats, and Song Lan is working through a heel turn, shaping the rows to reinforce the curve. He finishes the section before he sets down the sock to answer.

“I learned when I was a boy. I grew up with scrappers, and there was a lot of downtime.”

Cao Huan is silent, rubbing the soft wool between his fingers, and Song Lan wonders why he bothered to ask.

“Would you like to learn?” Song Lan asks, and Cao Huan shakes his head slowly.

“Yes, but I am not certain I will ever...I do not know what my future holds. There may be no point in learning.”

He sounds so bleak and disappointed, dozens of questions pop in and out of Song Lan’s head, and he firmly shuts them behind a door. He isn’t going to intrude on this man’s private life.

“There is always value in learning something new,” he signs instead, and Cao Huan smiles ruefully.

“You sound like my brother,” he says, then snaps his mouth closed and hides the expressiveness of his face behind the neutral mask Song Lan is beginning to recognize, even if he’s still not certain what it means.

“Mm,” he agrees, one of the few sounds he can still make. To his surprise, Cao Huan laughs.

“Now you truly do sound like him. He is not a man of many words, but he is very eloquent with noncommittal sounds,” Cao Huan explains when Song Lan looks puzzled.

“You’re close?” Song Lan asks, and the shuttered expression returns.

Still, the man answers after a pause. “Yes, we were, but...he is gone now, living his own life. I am proud of him, but...it makes going home seem...different.”

Every word is reluctantly spoken, as though giving shape to them makes them dangerous. Song Lan vows not to ask any other questions, but Cao Huan keeps talking, and he can’t very well tell him to stop, either.

“Home used to mean people, but...they are grown or changed or…” his eyes close in obvious pain, and Song Lan wants to tell him to stop or distract him with a starboard nebula, but there’s nothing, just this palpable misery.

“Or gone,” he finishes. “Home is only a place now. It should be enough but…”

Song Lan understands this much at least.

“It’s too quiet.” He finishes Cao Huan’s sentence, and he means that home has always been Fuxue, but it no longer hums with love and laughter and Xingchen. It is the same place it was five years ago, but...it isn’t.

Abruptly, Cao Huan leans forward and squeezes Song Lan’s knee, his face softening in sympathy. It’s only a brief touch, but Song Lan’s body reacts like the brush of fingers is a line of electricity, both sharp and crushing, nothing like he expected, not that he could ever have expected this particular cataclysm. Has it been so long, he wonders, since someone touched him with kindness?

He stands, covering his sudden need to escape by hunting through one of the storage bins for a bigger set of knitting needles and a chunkier-gauge yarn. He sets them on Cao Huan’s lap.

“You may as well learn,” he signs with an easy smile. “We still have a week of travel left.”

Cao Huan laughs in disbelief when Song Lan shows him how to cast the yarn onto the needle, but he turns out to be a quick study, which Song Lan should have expected, given his dexterity with the guqin. Song Lan admits to himself that he likes the way the man’s face lights with the satisfaction of meeting a challenge, even more the way he brandishes a square of fairly smooth rows with such pride.

The quiet stretches out like a lazy cat, broken by the sound of clicking needles, and it settles serenely over Song Lan. Usually on transports, he is busy every waking moment, herding children, answering questions, sometimes even preventing bloodshed. He could get used to this uneventful kind of trip.

As if the gods have heard his thoughts, a piercing blue alarm sounds. Not an environmental emergency. Blue is an enemy attack.

Song Lan jams his needles into the yarn and tosses the whole bundle into the corner before turning to the screens, grabbing the yoke with one hand and snapping the comm headset onto his neural node with the other.

Where? he asks Fuxue through their mental link, and Xingchen’s voice relays the coordinates through the overhead speakers: 403 225 687.

He enlarges the image. Junk pirates. A mini-fleet of five. It could be worse, it could be Red Robe mercs or Goldlighters or soldiers of any major faction, but he isn’t looking forward to a run and gun. He scours the sector for a nearby...anything. There’s an asteroid field and two tiny stations, one in either direction, all so much further than is particularly helpful. He makes a decision and changes course, doubling back on the pirates and surging past them.

[Cao Huan, we have pirates,] he says via the comm. [We’re going to try to outrun them first.] He doesn’t bother explaining what the other option is.

“Give me tactical control,” Cao Huan says, calm and insistent, and even though he has no reason to think this man has ever even flown a ship before, Song Lan flips on the secondary pilot display and unlocks the manual gun controls.

[Fuxue is adapted for neural node. You’ll have to shoot manually, but it might at least scare them off,] he explains.

Cao Huan grins. “Or I might surprise you, Captain Song.”

He does, of course. Song Lan is busy avoiding the pirates’ attacks, so he can’t watch as carefully as he suspects he'd like to, but his new co-pilot seems to be racing through calculating targeting coordinates like he’s half computer. Interestingly, he isn’t aiming to destroy, only damage, and he knocks out the first two ships’ navigational cores with single, identical, virtually impossible shots.

Fuxue is easily faster than one of the ships, and Cao Huan clips its starboard wing, only dislodging the thruster, before they pull away. It’s enough to send the forty-meter ship spinning out of control in the opposite direction.

The last two though...they’re a problem. The smaller of the two has an expert pilot and gunner, and Fuxue takes several hits. One explodes against the side of the lifeboat bay, others destroy sensor arrays and scatter pieces of shielding into space. They’re going to have to do something drastic or they aren’t going to survive this.

[Rolleram?] he asks Cao Huan, not entirely sure if he’ll understand, but he nods once and waits for Song Lan to turn.

Song Lan rolls Fuxue in an arc and flies directly at the larger ship, avoiding a few shots before dodging around the ship on its right side, swooping down, using the ship as a blind. With a hard bank, he brings Fuxue up on the other side of the big pirate ship. The smaller ship is right in front of them, a perfect shot.

[Now!] he yells, but Cao Huan has already fired the phaser cannons, and without even looking, Song Lan knows he’s calculated Fuxue’s path and the pirate’s trajectory perfectly.

[Target disabled,] Fuxue confirms. [Nice shot, XO.]

Cao Huan’s mouth tips in the corner. “Thank you, Fuxue,” he says.

Song Lan shakes his head at them both. Since when did the passenger become his executive officer, and who thanks a ship’s AI?

But there’s no time to celebrate. The last ship, the largest ship, is less agile than Fuxue, but more heavily armed and is throwing everything at them in a last ditch effort. With a jarring lurch, Fuxue shudders, and Song Lan grimaces.

[Port wing…]

[Yes I know,] he snaps. He only barely has enough rudder to pivot Fuxue, pure luck more than anything. They won’t survive one more impact like that.

“Wei Drop?” Cao Huan suggests, and Song Lan snorts.

[Play dead?] No one who has ever seen the Wei Drop is fooled by it twice. But even as he derides the idea, he realizes it might work. It’s going to have to. Cao Huan is a good enough shot, and they don’t have a lot of choices left.

[Fine, but if this doesn’t work, you owe me a ship,] he says, killing Fuxue’s engine, shutting down all the systems, and letting his ship slowly start to drift oh-so-subtly in a circle.

It works. He can’t believe it works, but the pirates stop shooting, probably reluctant to break their new salvage any more than necessary, and coast toward Fuxue.

When Fuxue has made a full rotation, when Song Lan can almost see the attacking crew through the shielded fore windows, he looks at Cao Huan, who nods.

It happens so fast, the two of them working in unison to flip on all the power, stabilize Fuxue, take aim, and fire twice. At the last second, the pirate ship banks, trying to escape the shot, but they’re too close, far too close, and instead of disabling the wing or navigation, or whatever Cao Huan was aiming for, the ship explodes in a blinding blast of nuclear white light.

The last thing Song Lan thinks, the last thing he has time to think before the shockwave hits them, is Xingchen is going to be so mad about his ship.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan xichen #song lan #lanlan #space au #in which there is knitting and space battles #tea and music #and both of these wounded men get to heal a little #Kristina writes tiny stories #this one is medium sized

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 5 (Mafia AU)

Summary: So where was Blue while Rus was off getting kidnapped and how did he end up with Red, anyway?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warnings: Some violence. A wee bit of unwanted touching and some innuendo.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

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Read on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was barely afternoon and Blue was already tired. He’d spent the morning coaxing a variety of flowers in their garden into bloom, gently forcing them to quickly travel through their growth cycles until they were ready to be cut and added to a bouquet.

Normally, their garden had a rigid schedule to keep from pushing the plants too much; stimulated growth could only go so far, after all. But losing most of their stock was forcing Blue to abandon it. Using so much magic in such a short amount of time was exhausting and when Blue parked in their assigned spot, the elderly van wheezing to a stop, he took a moment to sit in the sagging driver’s seat, ignoring the spring pushing through the cheap vinyl to poke at his coccyx as he closed his sockets for just a moment.

There really wasn’t time for a rest. Papy was waiting on these flowers, likely working hard since this morning readying the baskets for Blue’s delivery. There were funerary floral arrangements to be made, birthday gifts, romantic gestures, and every one of them added desperately needed profits back into their coffers.

Rest would have to wait. Instead, Blue pawed through the glove box, past the yellowed owner’s manual and an odd collection of fast food napkins to find a granola bar in its depths. Tastelessly stale, the chocolate chips cast in a white haze and Blue ate it anyway, chewing without tasting. It would help revive his magic and he’d be able to paste on his sunniest smile for Papyrus when he got inside.

His little brother was working so terribly hard, so many long hours on his own. Blue’s soul was so tight with pride, it felt as if it were ready to explode and shower his Papy with it, even as he kept the underling guilt hidden away, tucked back where his brother wouldn’t have to deal with it.

This was his fault. Papy shouldn’t have to deal with the brunt of the stress. He’d abandoned his own faint hopes for college to help Blue with the business, worked hard without a fuss. He learned to make flower arrangements from bouquets to corsages, how to run the registers, how to smile and charm their customers into buying more than they intended. This was Blue’s dream, not his, but he’d thrown himself in entirely, and Blue didn’t want him to know about the bills rubberstamped in red ‘past due’ ink. He didn’t want Papy to worry about their dwindling savings.

The insurance money would help, quite a bit if the representative he spoke to yesterday was correct, and they only needed to last the few weeks until it came.

A little hard work hadn’t dusted him yet, Blue told himself as he got out of the van and retrieved the first heavy bucket of cut flowers; lilies, for the funeral arrangements. A few weeks more wasn’t going to do any harm.

When he got to the shop door, for a moment Blue didn’t understand why it wouldn’t push open. Then he realized the open sign was off, the door was locked tight. The shop was closed, on a Friday afternoon when all the lovesick swains got their paychecks and were ready to pick up flowers in hopes of a romantic weekend and they’d be purchasing their bouquets elsewhere because his shop was closed.

Later, Blue would be ashamed his first instinct was largely irritated; had his silly brother forgotten to leave the door open for customers, they did have some stock! But that was not for more than a startled second, long enough for him to see the broken mug scattered across the stoop.

He leaned down to pick up a shard of the plastic, absently noting the tremble in his hand. It had been his brother’s favorite travel mug, a silly thing he’d gotten it at the thrift shop, leftover from some Halloween or another. The skeletons that danced around it would dance no more, the piece Blue held had lost its legs, and he took very little comfort in the fact there was no dust on the broken pieces because there was a single splotch of redness, a near-perfect circle of dried marrow.

Someone had hurt his brother, Humans, perhaps the same ones from yesterday and how had he ever believed in his naiveté that Humans would welcome them to the surface with open arms.

“now thems some pretty flowers you got there.”

Startled, Blue turned towards that voice, ready to tell them with as much forced politeness as he could muster that they were currently closed, and would the police even come if he called them, would they even care, who else could he possibly—

Then he caught sight of who spoke, and his soul felt as if it froze right in his rib cage, icy fingers digging in and oh, his little brother was in far worse trouble than Blue could have ever guessed.

He’d never met the Fells, neither on the Surface or below it. The Underground was a big place and the madscrabble life they’d grown accustomed to in Ebott did not lend itself to making new acquaintances. Not that Blue frequented the sorts of places where one might meet the Fells. No, he’d never met them, but he knew them by reputation. Thugs, whispered along the gossip-line, loan sharks, racketeers, even murderers said the quietest rumors, though not for very long.

This one could only be the older brother, Red. He stood only a bit taller than Blue and nearly twice as broad, with little resemblance past the fact they were both skeleton Monsters. His teeth curved into a jagged, shark grin, unlike Blue’s blunted smile and his eye lights were the burning crimson of an ember. His dark expensive suit with its rich scarlet shirt boasted of handsewn silks, and the fingers holding his cigar were circled with gold rings whose stones were too garishly large to be anything but real. His other hand was tucked into his pocket, oddly threatening for its nonchalance. Flanking him were two large Dog monsters, white on white ties and shirts, and Blue was suddenly struck by the absurdity of it all.

His little flower shop along with his brother had somehow been transported into some ridiculous Godfather-esque alternate, only proved by Red exhaling a billowing cloud of smoke as he said, “but it looks t’me like you’ve got a lil’ trouble bloomin’. lose somethin’? or mebbe someone.”

Inappropriate laughter bubble up, choked away, and Blue heard himself say, “I suppose I did.”

Red nodded as if Blue had offered not a stream of wisdom, but an entire glistening fountain. He started pulling his hand out of his pocket and Blue tensed, angel-only knew what thoughts about guns or knives shooting through his mind. But that hand was empty and Red only plucked one of the lilies from the bucket, running a razor-tipped finger along the satiny petals.

“Are you here to help with that? My…my missing person?” Blue asked at last. Not that he wanted to, he didn’t, but his options were few, any choices dwindled away. There was no one else to ask and with every second that went by, the danger his brother was in could only be growing. This had something to do with yesterday, Blue was sure of it, and he couldn’t even imagine what sort of trouble his sweet, funny brother had gotten into to cause all this.

Rumor had it Red never broke his word, that he had a twisted way of keeping it, a monkey’s paw wish. But for his brother, Blue would have bargained with the devil incarnate.

He wondered if he was.

“could be,” Red said idly. He twirled the flower stem between his fingers. “you got quite the green thumb, dontcha.”

“Yes?” Blue agreed, warily. He’d heard that before when they’d first come to the Surface, and his refusal to grow drugs had been a costly one, losing him possible allies. He wondered dismally what conundrum he was about to be balanced on for his brother’s safety.

“hm.” Red gave the lily a considering sniff, “might have to see if we can drive your posy sales a lil’ better, after we get past this oopsie daisy.”

Blue didn’t know what that meant but he was sure he wouldn’t like it.

“tell ya what,” Red gave him a conspiratorial wink and a finger gun, as if they were close pals and not a known criminal chatting with a simple florist, “me and the neighborhood watchdogs here, we’ll take care of it. you hang tight and we’ll get your bro back to you.”

Blue didn’t ask how they knew it was his brother. He didn’t ask a thing. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and said, “No, I don’t think so. I’m coming with you.”

That earned him a deep frown, “baby blue, i think mebbe you didn’t hear me so good.”

“I heard you perfectly well,” Blue told him and didn’t bother with any astonishment over what this…this person might know or not know about him. Nicknames and whatnot were not important. Papy was. “And I don’t care. I’m coming with you and I’m staying until I see my brother.”

A low growl came from one of the Dogs, silenced instantly when Red held out a hand. Those jagged teeth curved into an unpleasantly wide grin, “you think so, eh. and if i say no?”

It was not particularly difficult to work up some tears, they’d been hovering thickly beneath the surface the moment Blue found that broken coffee mug. He let them loose now, wailing as loudly as he could, “How can you leave me like this!” Fat droplets rolled down his cheeks, huge sobs gasped out, “and with a baby on the way?”

Red froze, his cigar drooping in his teeth as his grin fell away so abruptly Blue half-expected it to shatter on the stoop with the remains of Papy’s coffee mug. All around them the people on the sidewalk who’d been previously been looking discreetly away were abruptly watching with avid interest, aghast and greedily outraged as Blue wept loudly, one hand pressed against his apron to his belly over their nonexistent child. A few people were shuffling their feet as if considering playing the hero, weighing their odds against a cruel wealthy ex-boyfriend and his friends casting aside a tiny pregnant clerk.

“get in the fucking car,” Red muttered. He tossed the lily on the ground, trodding on it as he turned to do the same. Blue tried not to see the mangled flower as a metaphor and followed, hopping through the open door that one of the Dogs closed firmly behind him.

He settled into the enormous leather seat, buckling his seatbelt to at least make it more difficult if Red decided it might well be easier to simply shove him out of the car on the next block.

Not that Red seemed to be considering it. He was rummaging through a small bar installed in the side door, pouring a finger’s worth of what was probably very expensive whiskey into a crystal glass, knocking it back in a single gulp. He poured another then settled back in his seat with it, crimson eye lights targeting Blue.

“you got some balls, kid,” he grumbled. It almost sounded grudgingly admiring but there wasn’t time to worry about that.

“Can you promise me you’ll get my brother back to me? Safe and sound,” Blue hastened to add.

“sure, toots. we’ll get your bro back in mostly one piece,” Red said. He grinned again, all jaggedly sharp teeth as Blue’s gorge rose, purring out, “nah, he’ll be all safe and sound. got someone on it right now, and not one of the usual mutts, neither. he’ll get your bro. meantime, we got some things we can discuss, you and me.”

Blue lifted his chin defiantly. He’d known what he was getting into. If there was a price to be paid for saving his brother, Blue would offer his own soul on a silver platter. But there was no reason for Papy to know. “I’m sure we do, so long as it’s a private discussion between us.”

Those crimson eye lights gleamed and Blue could very nearly hear the invisible chains of fate closing around him. “good boy. now, let’s talk about you, baby blue. how’s business?”

-fin

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#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #mafia au

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furrycowboypeach · 3 years

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car insurance : 10 questions with answers

Dear reader, we are honored to visit

our site

and hope to find everything you need in this article.

1.How does classic car insurance differ from conventional car insurance ?Classic car insurance will give you what the car is actually worth and or what you feel the car is worth. Conventional insurance will not. Let’s say you have a beautiful 1965 split window corvette. Maybe it’s worth a $100,000. Collection insurance will want photos of the car and maybe an inspection of the vehicle. Once they agree on the value your good to go. However there are rules, like limited miles you can drive, garage kept, they can be very picky. Regular insurance last I heard will give you blue book value. Do the research. There are some very good collection companies around.

Insurance companies and having fun with this.

The UK MOT test now has public information data about current and historical mileage.

Thus now we can see/prove/audit that there are many tens of thousands of old cherished cars - that literally do not move for years on end. (Less than 500 miles every 5 years).

Big data analysis will show clearly to insurance companies which classic cars are massively profitable to insure.

A mainstream loved semi-classic car has a market value of £4,000 or less. (eg. 18 year old Mercedes convertible) driven by a busy,, employed, 50 year old with 2+ cars

On fully comprehensive insurance - the risk held by the insurance company is £3.5K for total write off of the car and any 3rd party claims (on a vehicle that hardly moves). The risk to the policy owner is loss of 4 years no claims bonus and a 10+ year claim free profile.

Big data will show to the insurance companies that these are very profitable policies

2.Does the wrong address invalidate car insurance ?

That depends on why it is wrong. If you move, while you should notify your insurance company, but don’t you are more likely to get cancelled because you didn’t pay your mailed bill (assuming that is the option that you selected).

But if say that you live in Miami, Florida (the most expensive place in the state to get auto insurance, and you claim that you live just outside of DeFuniak Springs, Florida and then have an accident in Miami, Florida, the insurance company could say FRAUD and VOID your policy as if it never existed. Because you had an uninsured accident, you would probably lose your driver’s license until you made the other driver whole again! Short of that, it usually wouldn’t be considered Material, and they would back bill you for premium OR give you a refund.

3.Is rental car insurance a rip-off ?

yes and no.

if you are using your insurance and crash the rental car, you can be liable for the complete cost of repairs AND lost revenue while it is being repaired. this can be full price of the rental all the time it is being repaired. this can be a ton of cash. also if you chip the windshield the rental co can charge you for a complete new windshield or repair the that one. your insurance may or may not cover any or all of this. needless to say you will have to deal with it one way or another.

if you buy the EXPENSIVE rental car insurance you are covered for all damages including all the “little scratches”

i was 21 and rented a car to go to a job interview 2 day rental. well i put almost 1600 miles on the car. when i returned the rental agent was mad i had put that many miles on an unlimited rental. so she went out and nitpicked everything …. i just watched as she pointed bugs out as dents and everything else. when we went in she disappeared a returned with a 2400.00 repair dollar bill. and demanded how i was going to pay. i just said i paid the 15.00 for the full insurance and that would cover it , she grabbed the rental agreement and read it, her face turned red. and i left….

4.Is it okay to not have car insurance for a few months ?

Probably expecting a bit of heat for this one but here goes.. lol.

I live in Spain and about 14 years ago or so I was forced under pressure to get rid of the Suzuki jeep… which looked a fair bit like this I suppose. No power steering and the uncanny ability to just spin right around on itself in slightly greasy roads….

which had the widest back tyres I think I have ever seen on a car.., anyway, it had to go, saw an ad for a Mitsubishi Shogun , a lot like this

UK plates and only came with an export certificate from UK. Seems the guy who brought it over was intending to change it over to Spanish plates but never got round to it. Swapped the Suzuki plus 3 grand and off we went. First time I had driven an automatic, was a joy and no mistake…proper built like a tank too.. awesome car.

Drove that car for almost 8 years on that export certificate, no MOT and insurance papers I made my self on the computer by copying a mates documents and changing the pertinent details. Spanish cops had at that time.. and possibly still now, no way of actually checking the veracity of insurance papers, if they looked legit, they were accepted.

I understand that in the last few years DVLA having softened a little and offer a yes or no answer to Spanish enquiries as to whether a UK registered car has a valid MOT or not… no other info is given. I assume thats data protection at work or some such. Its that yes or no that has gotten rid of a load of UK plated cars from Spanish roads, now you actually have to have one, so either you know someone who has an MOT garage and can produce one for you or you drive back to get it done, which isnt usually viable.

So ye, its ok to not have insurance for a few months or even a few years, as long as you can get away with it.

5.Can realtors write off car insurance ?

It depends on the method they choose to use to write off their car expenses. If their car is used less than 50% for business, they must use the mileage method which includes all operating expenses including insurance. If they use it more than 50% they may choose to use the actual expense method or the mileage method. If they use the actual expense method they can deduct the business % of gas, repairs, interest, insurance, depreciation, etc. Either method requires them to keep a mileage log.

6.Does my car insurance cover my friend when they borrow my car for a day?

In the UK read your certifcate of motor insurance.

If it says

“Any person driving on the policyholder’s behalf or with their permission” or WTTE then they will be covered. (There may be age limits in the schedule of insurance but these cannot appear on the certificate). (Also cover will be for pleasure use only unless the wording on the certificate specifically includes business use by your friend).

If it does not say that then, unless your friend is named on the certificate of insurance, they are not covered under your policy.

This does not necessarily mean that they are uninsured when they drive your car, since they may have an insurance policy covereing their own car with the “driving other cars” extension. “The policyholder may drive, with the owner’s permission a car not belonging to the policyholder nor hired to him under a hire-purchase agreement”. If this clause is in effect it only covers their Road Traffic Act Liability and does not cover loss or damage to the car whilst in their control. Note that it is your duty to check this. If your friend doesn’t have such cover then you are ‘aiding and abetting’ a motor offence of driving without insurance - offence code IN12 - which will substantially increase your car insurance premium - despite the FCA announcements today.

7.Can a 19-year-old afford car insurance ?

Driving a car is a privilige, not a right.

Unless you are in gainful employment and living at home, I suspect you will have to rely on the bank of mum and dad. But if you think getting insurance at 19 is hard - imagine trying to get it at 17 and 18.

Many teenagers go with a company that assesses the premium based on information sent to them by a ‘black box’ added to the car. People who drive sensibly and only durting the day pay a lot less than those who drive recklessley and at night - even if the latter have no accidents.

The first year is by far the worst. If you go claim free for a year then no only will you be 20 rather than 19 - but you will have one years no claims discount - which will knock about a third off your premium.

(Oh and don’t try and pretend the car you drive is owned and registered with your parents and that your mother is the main user. Insurance companies are not stupid. People who own a vehicle one or two years old don’t normally decide to buy a second vehcile that is 10 years old for their own use.)

8.What are the worst car insurance companies in America ?

As others have alluded to, the whole insurance cabal and racket is on par with a level or two less integrity than the drug cartels run in Mexico and South America.

Still, some insurance companies make an effort to comply with law and regulation, while others just have a standard operating procedure to act like bad-faith criminals.

One company stands out as the worst of the worst:

Bristol West

If you bought insurance from these scoundrel's, do yourself a favor, and immediately change. But don’t change early, or you’ll pay outrageous cancellation.

If you get hit by someone with this insurance, put in your claim with your own insurance, or you’ll just be wasting your own time.

9.How much do I need to pay for car insurance ?

Without knowing where in the world that you live, nor your age, sex marital status, other drivers in your household, driving records, and car or cars you trying to insure.

You can't save time or money by asking an ambiguous non informational question here. You will have to do it the old fashioned way, calling around to agents or companies. You can also go online to the companies and agents but NOT TO THOSE SITES THAT PROMISE TO TELL YOU THAT THEY'LL TELL YOU EVERY COMPANY'S RATES. That is a LIE plus you are putting yourself at risk for identity theft, and here are the reasons:

None of these sites has ALL of the companies. They only show those companies paying them to be there.

Even if they show an Allstate, a Progressive and/or Geico, these companies all have multiple rating levels for different types of drivers from preferred for the very best risks down to theworst risks out there. Those kinds companies might only have one or two of their rating levels on each of these sites, so if you don't qualify for those that rating tiers you won't be given a rate from those companies. Likewise if the company that truly is cheapest for you didn't pay for that website to show their rates, you won't see them.

They will sell your personal information to multiple agents and/or companies. This means that you will be bombarded by people trying to sell you auto insurance.

And since they don't check that the person indeed buying the leads are insurance agents all of your personal information could end up in the hands of identity thieves.

NOTE: IDENTITY THEFT DOES NOT HAPPEN FROM INSURANCE COMPANY OR AGENT'S WEBSITES!

10.What do

sports

car

lovers need to know about car insurance ?

Find out how buying a sports car impacts on your car insurance, from cost to cover. There’s nothing specific you need to look for in an insurance policy on a sports car, per se, but it’s always a good idea to read the policy wording in advance if you have anything specific you want covered.

Some of us love football. Some of us love cricket. And some of us love motorsport. The sports we like are part of our identity, and if you’re a motorsport fan you might want to express that through your choice of car.

We’ve put together this short guide to help you better understand the implications of owning a sports car from an insurance point of view.

Find out how buying a sports car impacts on your car insurance, from cost to cover.

What to look for in an insurance policy on a sports car

There’s nothing specific you need to look for in an insurance policy on a sports car, per se, but it’s always a good idea to read the policy wording in advance if you have anything specific you want covered.

For instance, you might want to be sure you’re covered against vandalism or other such malicious damage to the tyres, paintwork or (on a cabriolet) the fabric roof.

Even if you’ve found a policy that covers every scenario you can imagine, you must fully disclose all details of the car to avoid having an insurance claim refused. This includes any optional extras or other modifications that have been made by you or a previous owner.

What qualifies as a sports car ?

For the purposes of insurance underwriting, Admiral defines sports cars as cars designed as performance vehicles ‘from the get-go’: things like coupes, roadsters and GTs.

Having said that, your car may be considered a sports car even if it doesn’t fall into one of these categories.

Car manufacturers recognised years ago the demand for high-performance cars which were practical and spacious enough for the real world – cars for people with children and hobbies, essentially.

Traditional sports cars are designed to be lightweight, compact and aerodynamic, but this usually means a cramped interior and little or no luggage space.

So, over the years, and with changing attitudes towards what ‘sporty’ means, we’ve seen the arrival of the hot hatchback (as defined by the iconic VW Golf GTI), the sports saloon (think BMW M5) and, more recently, the performance SUV (such as the Porsche Cayenne).

Why is insurance on sports cars more expensive ?

Every new car is placed into an insurance group based on the risk associated with it, and risk is calculated using statistics about past claims on similar cars. Risk takes into account both how likely you are to make a claim, and how much it could cost to put right if you do.

When it comes to sports cars, the first (and perhaps most obvious) thing insurers look at is their performance. Many sports cars are fitted with engines that provide rapid acceleration and high top speeds.

And they’re engineered to mimic the driving characteristics of racing cars, with responsive handling and potent brakes – all designed to help you carry as much speed into, through, and out of corners as possible. All of which increases your likelihood of being involved in an accident.

They are also, often, more expensive to repair or replace, because of their high sale prices or because parts are more specialised. And they may present a more irresistible temptation to thieves, making a theft claim more likely.

What are the cheapest sports cars to insure ?

We've compiled a list of the 10 sports cars with the cheapest average premium between January and March 2021.

Of course, the car itself is only one of the factors used in calculating premiums, so the characteristics of the average owner of these cars (including age, driving history and No Claims Bonus) could explain why the premiums are so affordable.

The models listed combine cars of all ages and values, including both hard-top and roadster equivalents sharing the same name.

Porsche Boxster - £404.04

BMW Z4 - £437.52

Polestar 2 - £446.07

Mazda MX-5 - £451.80

Porsche Cayman - £488.42

Porsche 911 - £509.19

Porsche Macan - £518.03

Nissan GT-R - £582.02

Toyota MR2 - £586.39

Ford Mustang - £586.77

After you've finished reading, we hope you've benefited. And we invite you to comment in your opinion. And we're happy with that, and we love reading it.

#home #car #book blog #insurance

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evoedbd · 4 years

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Sleeping Dragons

Summery - After a very bad shift over University Break Runa is ready to kill someone... until she sees the most adorable sight the cafe has to offer.

Just a pure fluffy piece with some very minor cannon bending/alterations.

**************************************** She was done. Finished. Over it. Every other variation of “fed up” that could be imagined. If she had to deal with ONE more giant slug lecturing her on the finer points of cabbage preparation, she was going to be arrested again. For murder, this time, not a simple misdemeanour.

She announced this in the most nonverbal way possible whilst retaining her job. She attempted to drive her flats through the floor with every short, choppy stride she took. Every breath was punctuated with a loud huff, her best imitation of a dragon, one might conclude. A nymph blanched, raising the menu to hide her face as the Waitress passed. A centaur’s hooves clicked nervously against the floor. Emeril was intelligent enough to swerve the guests she was seating out of the Waitress’ way. Nobody was foolish enough to risk her wrath on the best of days, and this was far from a good day for one Runa Amberthorn.

The day had begun with accidentally waking an unusually moody Rong. That encounter started with outrage, ended with flame and singed pink hair. Then, there was the delay in pastries during the morning rush. Finally, it was that damned Slug. If his lecture wasn’t bad enough, he’d then tossed his soup AT her. Said soup was currently dripping from the tip of her nose. She was positive she’d be smelling the potent spices Roman had used for a week.

“Runa!” A female voice cut above the din of the cafe. Of course, there was always one person who didn’t get the hint. This time, that person was Nysa. An impossibly tall, lanky young woman who looked up (figuratively) to Runa as a big sister.

“Not now!” Runa barked, foot already resting on the first stair. All she needed to do was storm up them and she’d finally be away from the pesky customers. Away from talking Plants and walking Catfish. From prissy Lions with too much mane gel, and haughty Faeries.

“Its just that Amber didn’t want t-” Nysa’s voice faded off uncertainly. Runa’s glare had effectively silenced the other waitress. Without heed, the Charm Magician turned and continued up the stairs. Nysa’s hushed words and frantically waving hands were ignored. An irritation at the corner of Runa’s vision. Whatever it was could wait. Runa knew Amber, how the recently awoken Rong would take every opportunity to speak directly. The absence of a binding spell was staggering to them both. A rug pulled from beneath their feet. A missing sense. Despite the spell having been broken, their bodies refused to obey. They remained highly attuned to one another, enough that their hearts skipped a beat when entering one another’s presence. Consciously or not. Living side by side, it was a feeling Runa was familiar with. A skipped heartbeat stopped her dead in her tracks when she reached the top of the stairs. There was a thud. Nysa had bumped into Runa. She caught herself, letting her sentence trail off.

“-Be woken up...”

Strewn across the aged wooden coffee table were several books. The wings of a dragon spanned the sprawled open pages. Red stood out against the whites of paper clouds. Blue flames sparked between teeth. Two white mugs, rims covered with dried coco trails, sat beside the books, both emptied. These were only briefly noted by Runa. Her attention was stolen by the sight on the couch.

Amber was simply beautiful. All delicate curves and a notably feminine gentleness wherever Runa’s eyes wandered. A mass of golden brown spilled over the arm of the couch, golden brown waves cascading from above smooth, relaxed brows down to the middle of her back. A delicate nose perched on her face, with just enough hinting of a curve to give the finest touch of regality. It was a nose that was always active, with thin nostrils flaring at every new scent. Long lashes kissed the tops of Amber’s cherub cheeks, which invited the gentlest caress to trace along the curve to her refined jaw. Upon her petite lips lingered traces of a content smile; a smile so infectious it seemed to cause the air itself to pulse with a sense of peace with every breath.

One leg flopped off the couch, leaving her bare foot placed solidly on the ground. Amber’s lithe torso was sheltered by her uniform jacket, along with the slumbering form of a small Toddler. Amber had put her own arm through the wrong hole of the jacket, using it to form a net to protect the boy from falling off of her chest. Her other arm wrapped over the bundle, cradling the child close to her petite breasts. The Toddler, Cy, snored happily, burrowing his chubby face into the safety of Amber’s warm neck. Runa knew the appeal, after all, she had sought refuge there many times. Sought, and found. The scene almost reminded of a mother dragon, folding her wing over her egg in an effort to shield her babe from the harsh world.

“She really is amazing with him.” Nysa’s soft whisper wasn’t enough to tear Runa’s gaze away.

“Yeah. She is.” Runa agreed in a sweet whisper. It was enough to cause Nysa’s attention to snap to Charm Magician. A soft smile was birthed upon Runa’s lips as she watched the softly snoring woman and toddler. She couldn’t fight how her cheeks began to ache, nor the intense burning through her veins. Patches of heat lingered everywhere, warming her until she felt she may actually glow like an ember before it erupted into flame.

“She really is a fighter for the underdog.” Nysa noted with an awed tone. She stepped closer to Runa, watching the amusement flare across the Charm Magician’s face.

Runa remembered the scene when Cy had first arrived at Sweet Enchantments, and it was not a pretty one. An exhausted toddler had stumbled in wearing clothing several sizes too small, torn and cut to “fit”. His shirt not only restricted the movement of his arms but failed to cover his thin belly. Dirty wee toes poked out of holes in worn little shoes. His torn trousers dis nothing to conceal his bruised knees, which were crusty with dried blood. The poor boy dragged a bag used for disposal, which was entirely too large for him. In it were all his old belongings, no toys and clothes too small to be from even the same year. Nysa had broken. The young woman had sobbed violently, pleading for help from the adoption worker. The suited Lion had the decency to look apologetic, at least, but beyond that provided no help. No acceptable reason for Cy’s condition. All the Lion could state was that the family had chosen not to adopt him once his magic had shown. Dark magic. Exactly like his lowlife father. Amber had descended like a storm of holy wrath. In a few seconds, the child was in her reassuring arms, bag hanging from her hands and the darkest scowl anyone had ever seen plastered across her usually sweet face.

What followed was a tirade of outrage; words so cutting and criticising that the entire cafe had frozen in horror to listen. The Rong was utterly ruthless, decimating every procedure related to Cy with violent head bobs towards his condition when appropriate. She demanded explanations for why a blind eye was turned to the very evident neglect. She expressed how utterly inept the screening process of adopting families if such a discriminatory family could get their hands on a vulnerable child. How disgusting the utter lack of support was for the mother, who clearly had no better options for her baby. Next, she turned her focus on the Lion himself. How he could be so clueless as to the system that he couldn’t even offer her a direction to look. How he couldn’t even offer a moment of compassion to clean the dirty boy. It was believed that Lions rarely cowered, however Amber had the seven-foot creature shaking in his expensive shoes with the power of her rage. Amber had gone further, outright disapproving of the classist society that would punish an innocent boy for something beyond his control. Her conclusion: anybody who approved of this had better get the fuck out of the cafe before she lost it.

Nysa had stood there gaping. Emeril had actually taken shelter behind her hostess podium. Lucien and Roman had both watched from the entrance to the kitchens. Zane had walked into the room with the guests at the bar; his jaw dropped in utter awe. Liora herself had been halfway down the stairs, her calm demeanour concealing hesitation to intervene. Plates dropped from Runa’s hands, the smash the only sound in the cafe save the snarling breaths from Amber. Then, the break in tension everyone needed. Cy had begun to laugh.

There had never been a discussion over whether Cy was staying. Not with the Government, not with the Adoption Agency and certainly not with Liora. Silently, everyone involved had decided it best not to tempt fate when a maternal, hormonal human dragon was involved. Adapting to Cy had proven rather easy. He was Nysa’s son, but Amber was his protector, the dragon encircling the slumbering prince. He adored Emeril and her younger sisters, who came by frequently on the weekends. Liora and Lucien had earned the titles of Nana, much to Lucien’s abrasive disapproval. Apparently, his apron was a dress, and his objections entertained the toddler immensely. Roman was often called Braba, which the Chef took graciously. Zain, remarkably, had almost cried when Cy had timidly called him daddy for the first time. What perhaps had been the biggest shock, however, was how he addressed Runa. The Charm Magician was never given a family title, nor a role in the boy’s life that could be noted. Instead, she received something far more possessive than anyone had anticipated. Runa, to Cy, had become ine. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he intended the name to begin with an M. Runa had simply shrugged it off, assuming he had picked it up from Dante, or from Amber… honestly, the Charm Magican couldn’t quite tell.

“Trust me.” Runa began gently, her lips twitching into one of her rarest smiles as she watched the peaceful pair. Nysa had been privy to the later days. Days where Amber stepped up and helped the new staff learn whilst Runa was buried under legal documents. Nysa had watched Amber’s dedication to seeing Runa achieve college, to keep driving the Charm Magician forwards through everything. Yet, Nysa had never seen the early days. The days where, even timid as a mouse, Amber’s eyes blazed with determination. The girl who thrived off arguments with Runa, then burned the cafe with her redirected focus. That girl who would take no bullshit and give no excuse. The girl who had faced down giant wolves and driven herself to a magical blackout JUST for the slimmest of chances to save her friend. Nysa had seen that drive, but Runa would argue only she had experienced EVERY side of Amber’s stubbornness. Runa had started out as an obstacle, then a petulant child throwing a tantrum. She’d thrown her own will against Amber’s, locked horns, expected to win. When Amber flowed into another tactic, Runa had lost her footing. Even now, she continued to slip and slide deeper under the Rong’s spell. Runa wasn’t sure when she’d decided to enjoy the ride instead of fighting the force of nature, only that it had seemed like her idea. Thinking on it, that was probably Amber’s working. The gentle, disarming kindness getting under Runa’s plating. Rusting her defence from the inside out.

“You really have no idea.” She concluded. Well, she guessed she shouldn’t be so surprised. Afterall, she did have a knack for picking up dragons.

#voltage lovestruck #runa amberthorne #sweet enchantments #sweet enchantments runa #runa x mc

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spartan2545 · 5 years

Text

A Snow and Color Blind Date

General Audience

Ilia X Winter

2200 words

FanFiction Link

AO3 Link

Summary: Ilia hasn’t had mush luck with the ladies. None actually. So Neptune sets her up on a blind date. She is in for a surprise by who her date is.

"Thanks for driving me Neptune"

"Not a problem," That stupidly confident grin he perpetually wore growing a bit wider, "After all, if I didn't there is no way you would ever have actually gone on this blind date that I worked so hard to set up for you."

"I would too!" Ilia protested, sounding more like a child than she would have liked.

It was not a complete lie. She probably, possibly might have not chickened out again. Sure, it had been a while since she had gotten a date, and she had never really been in a relationship, but that didn't mean she would run at the first opportunity instead of making a fool of herself in front of an attractive woman. Definitely not.

"Sure you would Ils," His smile had only grown more.

Okay, yeah, fine I probably wouldn't have. But you'll never get to know that.

Though sometimes he made her not want to admit it, Ilia was very grateful to have a friend like Neptune. He had backed off immediately after learning he was barking up the wrong tree on their first meeting. And despite Ilia's initial misgivings, after talking they hit it off better than anyone had expected and became fast friends.

Neptune quickly took it upon himself to become the wingman of the very clearly in distress chameleon girl. His success was somewhat limited. But he counted it as a win when ever he even got Ilia to just talk to a girl in a night, even if it rarely when anywhere further. Never went any further. . .

Just those small things really did help Ilia though. It had been hard getting over Blake after having that crush for so long, though she was very happy for her friend having found that fiery blonde that made her happy. Ilia knew it had also helped her self confidence, and although it still left much to be desired, it was a whole lot higher than the exactly zero it was before.

Talking to hot women was still an issue though.

So this was probably going to be as well.

"Alright, we're here." Neptune announced, pulling Ilia from her internal fears to face very external ones.

Ilia took a breath, "This is it," She said just barely not quietly enough to herself.

Neptune looked to his passenger, "Ilia, you are going to do fine. You're a great person, you're kind and smart. Not to mention pretty attractive. So, anyone would be lucky to date you," And with a trademark wink, "If you weren't gay I know I would."

His reassurance always helped at least a little. Even his joking flirts, now standard banter between them, were quite welcome.

"That's not a very high bar Neptune. You would date a table if it had nice legs."

They shared a laugh before Ilia was once again quickly just about overcome by her worry. She looked down at the burgundy dress she was wearing.

Will they even think I'm attractive? Probably not, I-

Neptune put a hand on her shoulder and unlocked the car door, "Knock 'em dead Ms. Rainbow. I'll be around to pick you up, depending on how well the date goes." He gave her another wink as she full-body blushed as usual.

"Thanks again." Ilia said as she stepped out of the neon blue mustang. A car that would be outrageous for anyone but Neptune.

"You can thank me after your date." Neptune yelled as he pulled away.

Ilia turned towards the restaurant, now realizing she was so wrapped up in her own head she hadn't even looked at it before. It was dark inside, not that it quite looked closed, but that the entire thing was even darker than it would have been with mood lighting. And there were only a few cars in the parking lot. It was a bit odd, she had been to The Ice Snake before and it had never been like this.

She slowly made her way towards the main entrance. Her anxiety building with every single step. Ilia took a deep breath as she opened the door.

And it only skyrocketed when she saw that no one else was in the restaurant. Literally every single table and chair was empty. No waiters were running about, and no one there to seat her.

But it still didn't look closed. The furniture and accouterments weren't put away and she could see two rooms that were better lit, one she knew to be the kitchen. The other, a back room she had always assumed was exclusively for very special (and very expensive) occasions.

Ilia inched towards that back room, more anxiety building along the way. From its direction she heard an odd sound. If she had to guess, it was much like trying to kick open a door with a boot. A sound she was familiar with considering her previous career path. It really didn't concern her though.

The prospect of meeting her date and all the horrible situations she could make a fool of herself continued to run rampant in her mind.

And she was half way there before she broke.

I don't need a date, I have enough in my life as it is.

The faunus hurried back to the glass doors she had just come through.

I'll just tell Neptune they were a no show! I don't live that far away, six miles isn't too bad.

When she got there she pushed against the door, but it wouldn't budge. Ilia looked down at the mechanism and saw that it had been locked.

Why is it locked from the outside?!

She looked up, only to see Neptune on the other side of the glass. He shook his head and pointed towards the back room, clearly having foresaw this eventuality and having stayed to prevent it.

Ilia sighed and did as she was told, seeing no other option. She tried to stay confident as she once again approached the back room.

How bad could it be?

She got closer.

Like who could it be that would be that bad?

She got closer.

It's not like she's going to be incredibly gorgeous.

She got closer still.

Or I already know her or anything,

She was just able to look inside when:

It's not like she's. . . Holy Shit!

Sitting in that back room, at a fully set table clearly only meant for two, was someone whom she knew. Who she had worked with before. Someone who she could almost count as a friend. And someone who she thought was exceptionally out of her league.

It was Winter Schnee.

The dashing, graceful, gorgeous Winter Schnee.

Ilia had heard people, notably Ruby's uncle, describe Winter as cold. But Ilia believed that she was exactly the opposite.

She was wearing a beautiful gradient blue dress, a slit up at least one side showing legs that made it hard for Ilia to think. Well, pretty much everything about Winter made it hard for Ilia to think. It was a good thing the dress had a shallow neckline.

Winter was staring at her scroll, apparently annoyed and sending a text. She hadn't seen Ilia yet. She was wearing boots.

So the chameleon girl bolted to a side entrance, hoping that maybe Neptune wasn't at that one. And of course, she found it locked too.

Only when she looked up this time, it was Sun.

Sun, like his partner, was something of a nearly full time wingman. Though his responsibility was sorting out the mess that was team RWBY. You'd think that having an ancient immortal wizard play matchmaker would have made things easier.

Like Neptune before, he shook his head and pointed to the back room. Ilia surmised he was probably here to do the same job for Winter as Neptune was for her. She put her hands together and bagged silently through the glass, but to no avail. Ilia guessed that only worked on him when you had cute cat ears to fold back.

Again she sighed and went back to the room.

Ilia stole a glance at the other side entrance, to see if maybe with only the two of them it was unguarded. But even in the twilight she could see a blazing gold mane watching from outside.

I guess they gotten Yang to help.

For a moment she gazed at the skylight, wondering if that was a possible escape route, only to see she thought might be a silhouette. It would have to be a very tall woman with a ponytail.

There really was no way out of this.

For what would definitely be the last time, Ilia approached the doorway and took a breath.

You can do this. You can do this. And no matter what, Winter's nice so it won't be bad.

She walked in.

"Ilia?" Winter asked, clearly somewhat surprised by who her date was as well.

"H-hey Winter," Ilia tried to keep the nervousness out of her voice as she stood stupidly, unsure of what action to take next.

"Uh- Please sit Ilia," Winter said gesturing to the other end of the candle lit table, fearful that Ilia's actions were due to her greeting being rude. "I have to say I wasn't expecting you. Though I don't know what I was expecting."

"Completely blind date for you too then?" Ilia asked

Winter sighed, "Yes. My sister and her team finally convinced me to go on a date. They set all of this up, they must have rented out the whole restaurant for the night."

"Neptune did it on my end. I saw Sun here too," Ilia commented, "Did you know they locked us in here?" She continues, a millisecond later realizing that the only way she would have known that was by trying to leave. Her blush was thankfully less noticeable in candle light.

Winter nervously laughed and cleared her throat "Ahem, Yes I did." She glanced to the rear of the room, where there was another exit. With a boot print still clearly visible. This time the Schnee blushed, her alabaster skin clearly going pink "I guess they rightfully trusted neither one of us."

They both laughed a bit, but then was a bit of an awkward silence.

Ilia thought of something to say, scrounge up as much courage as she could muster to spit it out. "W-well, I'm not unhappy about who my turned out to be. You look great by the way" Then came the fear waiting for the response.

Winter softly smiled, blushed a bit deeper, and only a little less nervously said, "T-tank you. I'm not either. You also beautiful tonight Ilia." She caused a similar reddening of her date.

"So. . ." Ilia picked up the menu in front of her "Do you know what you're having?"

"Well I'm certainly not going to have the pork." Winter stated, with what might have been a small amount of disgust.

"That's my favorite!" Ilia exclaimed, "May I ask why?" She then questioned.

"Just promise not to laugh at me," Ilia nodded, so Winter smiled and continued, "You see, the last mission I was on was mostly hunting Boarbatusks. . ."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The food had been great, if a little different than they remembered. And the service was excellent, even if somehow the waiter always kept them from getting a good look at him.

It was a few hours of talking, joking, and enjoying each other's company before the pair left the restaurant, hand in hand and laughing.

All this without any alcohol too, as Winter didn't drink considering how well that had gone before in her family.

"I had a lovely time tonight Ilia." Winter said as they stood outside the main doors.

"I did too." Came Ilia's honest reply.

They both now looked somewhere other than the woman in front of them and started at the same time;

"I-"

"We-"

Now both were too nervous to say anything more after that false start. After a few seconds that felt like minutes they both looked up. Grey met blue, and despite each of their fears, they then realized in that moment they both wanted the same thing.

Ilia and Winter drew closer, feeling the other's breath on their skin.

They pulled each other into a kiss, not too long nor deep, it being their first after all. But enough that each was glowing afterwards.

"That was nice."

"We should do this again"

For a very brief they softly looked to each other, before being rather suddenly interrupted.

"Oh Yeah!"

"We did it!"

"Not so useless anymore!"

The pair looked to see Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang, Neptune, and Sun come out of the darkness from different guard positions around the building. All were clearly elated at their plan's success.

They heard a noise behind them, and looked to see Nora, Scarlet, and Sage come out from the restaurant, all looking like they had been in the kitchen the entire time. Ren came out close behind, and by how her was dressed, had apparently been their waiter. Then they saw Pyrrha and Jaune jump down from their perch on the roof beside the other members of JNPR. They all seemed to share their comrades' joy.

Winter and Ilia both blushed. It really had taken all these people to do this. But it worked.

Hope y’all liked it! I think this ship could be really cute, and I hope to see more of it. I hope this attempt at a date scene did them some justice :)

#ilia amitola #winter schnee #Atlas drop out #rwby #rwby fanfiction

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sunshineweb · 3 years

Text

Beware the IP-Ohs

People indulging in the stock market are often people with a lot of emotions. They get excited by something new, especially if it holds the promise of making them a whole lot richer and provides bragging rights at their next social gathering.

Maybe that’s why amateur and professionals alike tend to lose their minds in bull markets, particularly when a hot initial public offering, or IPO, is offered to them by their broker.

On one hand, had you bought into the IPOs of Infosys (yes, remember?), HDFC Bank, Sun Pharma, or TCS, you would have had some volatile price fluctuations along the way, but there is no question that you have made enough money to substantially change the quality of your life. Clearly, a well chosen IPO can be a life changing experience if you simply make the right choice and stick with the stock for years.

On the other hand, there is a large majority of IPOs such as those of Reliance Power, Suzlon and DLF, which have destroyed investors’ capital. With such businesses, even the “long-term” cannot save you from permanent capital destruction.

The Truth about IPOs Benjamin Graham wrote in The Intelligent Investor…

In every case, investors have burned themselves on IPOs, have stayed away for at least two years, but have always returned for another scalding. For as long as stock markets have existed, investors have gone through this manic-depressive cycle.

In America’s first great IPO boom back in 1825, a man was said to have been squeezed to death in the stampede of speculators trying to buy shares in the new Bank of Southwark. The wealthiest buyers hired thugs to punch their way to the front of the line. Sure enough, by 1829, stocks had lost roughly 25% of their value.

Over my 19+ years of experience in the stock markets, I have rarely come across any IPO that has been launched keeping in mind the interest of investors.

A majority of them have been launched in the form of ‘legalized looting’ by company promoters and their investment bankers.

I have come to believe how Graham defined IPOs in The Intelligent Investor. He said that intelligent investors should conclude that IPO does not stand only for ‘initial public offering’. More accurately, it is a shorthand for…

It’s Probably Overpriced, or

Imaginary Profits Only, or even

Insiders’ Private Opportunity

Why Avoid IPOs? There is an old saying in corporate circles. One should raise money when it is available rather than when it is needed. This is the reason most companies come out with their IPOs during rising or bull markets when money is aplenty.

Unfortunately, most investors in these IPOs come out on the losing end of the equation.

Granted, some IPO deals are good for retail investors, but I’d argue the odds of that happening are stacked against you.

The stock market regulator SEBI’s rules that are designed to protect Indian IPO investors, generate reams of disclosures about the company and the offering process but unfortunately, many investors neither read nor understand these.

After all, how many people have the time or inclination to read 400-500 pages of IPO offer documents? And then they say – “Please read the offer document carefully before investing.”

IPOs are not level playing fields, I believe. This game is stacked heavily against the small investor who is lured into the hype and then often loses a large part of his savings betting on listing gains.

Here are a couple of reasons I believe you must avoid IPOs and rather search for great businesses among those already listed.

One, IPOs are expensive. People assume an IPO is an opportunity to “get in at lower prices”. In reality, by the time you buy shares of a company in its IPO, other parties have almost always invested earlier at lower prices – often, much lower prices.

Before you even knew about the company, there probably were three or four rounds of private investment, and the per-share price of ownership usually goes up with each round.

In fact, one of the big incentives for an IPO is so that previous investors – founders, venture capital firms, large individual investors – can “cash out” at least a portion of what they’ve invested.

That is why most IPOs are often expensively priced. They are not priced to offer you a piece of the business at cheap or reasonable prices, but to find “bigger fools” who can get in when the “privileged few” are getting out.

Don’t believe the investment bankers when they say that IPOs are “cheap and attractive”. Their incentive lies in first fixing the IPO price (whatever the promoter wants) and then working backward to justify the same.

Two, IPOs create vividness bias.

It’s important to understand that the investment bankers and underwriters of IPO are simply salesmen.

The whole IPO process is intentionally hyped up to get as much attention as possible. Since IPOs only happen once for each company, they are often presented as “once in a lifetime” opportunities for the promoters and other large shareholders to cash out.

Promoters and investment bankers thus create stories that are “vivid” – by using terms like “listing gains”, “bright future”, “long-term story” – and entice you to believe them as soon as you hear them.

You must avoid getting charmed by that vividness.

Try to go behind the beauty of that vividness, and scrutinize the IPO to see if it is really so bright and beautiful.

In other words, you need to get past the “bright and shiny” stuff that surrounds IPOs because it’s easy to fall into the trap given that so many others around you are falling for the same.

Don’t buy a stock only because it’s an IPO – do it because it’s a good ‘investment.’

Warren Buffett wrote in his 1993 letter –

[An] intelligent investor in common stocks will do better in the secondary market than he will do buying new issues…[IPO] market is ruled by controlling stockholders and corporations, who can usually select the timing of offerings or, if the market looks unfavourable, can avoid an offering altogether. Understandably, these sellers are not going to offer any bargains, either by way of public offering or in a negotiated transaction.

When Buffett issued Class-B shares of Berkshire, he made sure that it wasn’t a typical IPO. He wrote in his 1997 letter –

Our issuance of the B shares not only arrested the sale of the trusts, but provided a low-cost way for people to invest in Berkshire if they still wished to after hearing the warnings we issued. To blunt the enthusiasm that brokers normally have for pushing new issues—because that’s where the money is—we arranged for our offering to carry a commission of only 1½%, the lowest payoff that we have ever seen in common stock underwriting. Additionally, we made the amount of the offering open-ended, thereby repelling the typical IPO buyer who looks for a short-term price spurt arising from a combination of hype and scarcity.

The dot com crash of 2000 was preceded by hundreds of IPOs where the underlying business was literally nonexistent. In his 2001 letter, Buffett wrote –

The fact is that a bubble market has allowed the creation of bubble companies, entities designed more with an eye to making money off investors rather than for them. Too often, an IPO, not profits, was the primary goal of a company’s promoters. At bottom, the “business model” for these companies has been the old-fashioned chain letter, for which many fee-hungry investment bankers acted as eager postmen.

Benjamin Graham wrote in Chapter 6 of The Intelligent Investor –

Our one recommendation is that all investors should be wary of new issues—which means, simply, that these should be subjected to careful examination and unusually severe tests before they are purchased. There are two reasons for this double caveat. The first is that new issues[IPO] have special salesmanship behind them, which calls therefore for a special degree of sales resistance. The second is that most new issues are sold under “favorable market conditions”—which means favorable for the seller and consequently less favorable for the buyer.

Charlie Munger said this in Berkshire’s 2004 meeting –

It is entirely possible that you could use our mental models to find good IPOs to buy. There are countless IPOs every year, and I’m sure that there are a few cinches that you could jump on. But the average person is going to get creamed. So if you’re talented, good luck.

To which Buffett added –

An IPO is like a negotiated transaction – the seller chooses when to come public – and it’s unlikely to be a time that’s favorable to you. So, by scanning 100 IPOs, you’re way less likely to find anything interesting than scanning an average group of 100 stocks.

Buffett also said –

It’s almost a mathematical impossibility to imagine that, out of the thousands of things for sale on a given day, the most attractively priced is the one being sold by a knowledgeable seller (company insiders) to a less-knowledgeable buyer (investors).

The late Mr. Parag Parikh wrote in his book, Value Investing and Behaviour Finance –

It’s safe to conclude that IPOs, which seem like a good investment vehicle are, in reality, not so. In fact, an IPO is a product which is against investor interest, as it is mostly offered to investors when they are willing to pay a higher and outrageous valuation in boom times.

Prof. Sanjay Bakshi wrote this in a 2000 article –

Any kind of rational comparison of long-term returns in the IPO market and the secondary market would show that investors do far better in the latter than in the former…IPOs are one of the surest ways of losing money in the long run.

Four characteristics of the IPO market makes it a market where it is far more profitable to be a seller than to be a buyer. First, in the IPO market, there are many buyers and only a handful of sellers. Second, the sellers, being insiders, always know more about the company whose shares are to be sold, than the buyers. Third, the sellers hold an extremely valuable option of deciding the timing of the sale. Naturally, they would choose to sell only when they get high prices for the shares. Finally, the quantity of shares being offered is flexible and can be “managed” by the merchant bankers to attain the optimum price from the sellers’ viewpoint.

But, what is “optimum” from the sellers’ viewpoint is not the “optimum” from the buyers’ viewpoint. This is an important point to note: Companies want to raise capital at the lowest possible cost, which from their viewpoint means issuance of shares at high prices. That is why bull markets are always accompanied by a surge in the issuance of shares.

You get the message, right?

It’s important to remember that, while most are, not every IPO is bad. It’s just that the base rate of investing in an IPO is not in your favour, and thus you must assess every investment opportunity on its own merit.

Hype and excitement don’t necessarily equate to a good investment opportunity. If stocks continue to climb like they have over the past few months, and the IPO line lengthens, I’m afraid you’ll have plenty of opportunities to see that I’m right.

The post Beware the IP-Ohs appeared first on Safal Niveshak.

Beware the IP-Ohs published first on https://mbploans.tumblr.com/

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southparkhighrpg · 6 years

Text

Michael - Accepted

Congratulations, Xo! Welcome to South Park High! Remember to send us your account within 48 hours of acceptance! If you ever need time extension to make the account, message the mods.

1. Mun information Preferred Name: Xochitl Age: 21 Pronouns: They/Them Timezone: CST Activity Level(Scale 1-10): 8 Discord: Password: Eric Cartman is a fatass

2. Muse Information Muse’s name: Michael Age: 17 Birthday: 13 November Height: 6’ 7" Sexuality: Constantly questioning Gender/Pronouns: Cis Male; He/Him 3. Personality (two paragraph) Michael is just as much of an asshole as he was in his childhood. He never has cared much for being popular with his peers just as he’s never cared much for anything. His apathetic and stoic attitude has made it difficult for him to form any close relationships outside the goths, or any sort of relationship for that matter. He has a disdain for anyone he considers to be followers of the “conformist agenda”, whatever the hell that means. Essentially, the school’s elite and most liked are at the very top of his shit list and while it is possible to get Michael to change his opinions, it’s extremely difficult. He’s immensely stubborn so much to the point that it has no doubt gotten on even his closest friends’ nerves. On the opposite end, however, Michael does have his approachable days. To those he considers friends, he isn’t as stern and even tends to dote on them, much like a mother. He’s thoughtful, honest but thoughtful. He doesn’t particularly like being an asshole to those he truly cares about. With the goths, he’s overprotective and affectionate in his own way. He would never go out of his way to purposefully hurt them. He’s deny this if it was brought up, however. His pride still reigns over everything else. 4. Appearance (two paragraph) Michael stand’s at 6’ 7", a very tall boy but not too unusual considering his family is one of the more “vertically blessed” in town. While he was known for his cachexic physique as a child, the goth has grown into himself. He isn’t the most jacked dude in town but he has toned up, more than would be expected give how slender he is. Even disregarding his height, Michael is a very lengthy person. His fingers are elongated and skeletal, and his legs are much longer than his torso, giving off the appearance that the boy is 80% leg. [A bit of a reach but you get the drift.] He’s very easy to pick out in a crowd. His complexion is pale and slightly yellow, like very aged parchment. His eyes are dark, piercing, and judgmental. He has a very attractive face: slender, high cheekbones, blemish-free, and mature. Model-esque, in it’s own way. He wears long dark coats—some simple, some extravagant—and never leaves the house without the comfort of makeup and jewelry. All of the rings, earrings, and necklaces he wears are custom made, handmade by himself of course. No matter where he goes, even if it’s just to grocery shop, Michael is dressed to the nines. His most casual pieces of clothing, that aren’t specifically pajamas, are dress shirts and slacks. His nails are always neat and manicured. His eyebrows always groomed and highlighted with makeup. His hair is never less than perfect. Again, he is a very prideful man and it reigns above everything else.

7. Name at least 5 headcanons

✞ If there’s one thing Michael will put a ton of effort in, it’s his appearance. He wakes up earlier than normal to make sure he is presentable even when staying in. He has a collection of high-end makeup and hair products that he uses on the daily. He also takes great care of skin and uses a variety of moisturizers, cleansers, exfoliators, etc. His daily routine usually takes around 2 hours to complete. He even goes to a fancier salon to get his hair cut and dyed professionally.He buys a lot of his clothing online and will often have it tailored because of his height. ✞ His home life and relationship with his family isn’t the best. His mother and father are constantly fighting and separate usually every other month. His parents usually take their frustrations out on him since he is the one who intervenes in a majority of their fight. They’ve gotten into a habit of kicking him out every so often. He is currently homeless due to this and is staying at the local motel. He also has two older siblings [who can be seen in the background photos in Michael’s home in Dawn of the Posers]: a sister and a brother. The three of them have a tight bond because of how awful their relationship with their parents is. Michael is very protective of his older siblings, and vice versa. ✞ He’s very much a dick and won’t be very nice to a majority of the characters. He is a bit nicer to the Goth Kids but he’ll still pick on them. He sees the other goths as family and will be overly-protective of them to point where he’d be willing to batter someone for hurting them.

✞ Speaking of which, Michael is a brute. He’s very violent when it comes to his fighting style. He won’t go picking fights unprovoked though, so stay on his good side and you’ll be fine. He still suffers from anger issues but he’s managed to push down his rage save for a couple of touchy subjects. ✞ A lot of his interests revolve around horror, the macabre, and things that are generally considered taboo. This, of course, includes horror movies, urban legends, the occult, the supernatural, mythology, demonology, cults and even serial killers [though he does not romanticize or idolize murder]. He’s also big on conspiracy theories. He loves hearing about them even if they’re the most outrageous thing ever. ✞ A secret interest of his is that he’s super into Angels. He knows a lot about them for someone who is not religious in the slightest and dabbles in doing angel readings and contacting them. He finds both demons and angels absolutely fascinating. ✞ He’s also a pyro and is almost always setting random crap on fire. He has a huge collection of Zippo lighters that he uses for this task. He hasn’t started any major fires since the Hot Topic, though. ✞ He still writes poetry. He’s also taken a liking to photography and metal-working. He’ll often take photos of his friends of when he’s just walking around with his Polaroid camera. He learned how to work metal on his own and usually just makes jewelry and charms.

✞ Michael works two jobs to support himself and his bearded dragons. After having been regularly kicked out by his parents in high school, Michael decided to find his own place the moment he could afford. However, the bills soon began to overwhelms him and he had to drop out of college his first semester to take on another job to keep him and his scaly children alive. He currents manages a record store during the day and bartends during the night.

8. Write two decent sized paragraphs that shows how you would portray your muse

May 26th. The end of the school year is merely days away. The senior class of South Park High School are all ready to graduate and move on with their lives. Universities, technical schools, and careers have all been planned and the students are ready to set them into motion. And while his classmates are chattering about move-in dates and fall schedules, Michael still hadn’t locked in on an after-graduation plan. He didn’t have much of a choice. It was either work or school and neither of those appealed to him. There was always travel but one needs money for the expenses and ,in turn, a job or two. It was depressing to think about how he would be the one to be trapped in the frozen wasteland that is South Park, Colorado. While Michael had his heart set on one school in particular, he had never heard back from them. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have only applied to one school, kept his options open. Maybe then he’d relate to his classmates’ conversations, even if he only managed to get into Denver U. He wouldn’t still be an outcast. But traditional schooling was never for him, higher education or not. Michael knew what he wanted from a young age. “Pratt Institute or bust” was his mentality but that dream was closer than ever to being shattered. It has now been months since acceptance letters were sent out and Michael had gotten nothing, not even a notice of rejection. He was just about to give up on the idea until he noticed something on the kitchen island: an envelope addressed to him. His breath hitched in his throat the moment the signature yellow insignia that read “PRATT”. Skeletal fingers trembling, the goth opened up the envelope with a such a painfully slow pace that even the world’s laziest sloth would become impatient. Why was he so nervous? There was only two possible outcomes and he had already mentally prepared for rejections months ago. And even if he did manage to be accepted, there was no way he’d be able to afford the travel expenses, much less tuition. Still, he held a sliver of hope in his dark heart that he’d spend his future days far from the mundane world of the small mountain town, living life to the fullest in New York City, as cliche as that thought was. Michael Nguyen-Darbi, Upon review of your application… He could feel his heartbeat resonate in his head. The goth’s vision was becoming hazy. His nerves had completely taken over, making him sickly. Stop stalling and finish reading the letter, Michael. Don’t be a bitch. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, readying himself to finish. As soon as his eyes shot open he read the rest of the line. …we are glad to offer you acceptance to Pratt Institute. In that moment, all time seemed to stop. It was surreal, reading those words. He did it….he actually fucking did it. Michael’s breaths were ragged, labored and audible. The euphoria he felt was overwhelming, so much so that he stumbled back from loss of balance, grabbing onto the kitchen counter for support. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, growing from the a tiny upwards curl to a bright, toothy grin. Michael took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before letting out a loud “Yes!!” God was he glad no one was home. But he wished someone was. He needed to share this news. Fumbling around in his pocket, Michael searched for his phone. He swiped through his contacts before calling the one under the name ‘Assmunch ☠’. Rising. Riiiiing. “Pete? Guess what I just fucking got..” 9. Any additional information you would like to add That’s it!

#accepted #michael #submission

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webbygraphic001 · 4 years

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3 Lessons UX Designers Can Take From Netflix

If we look at this from a design perspective, there’s definitely something about the way the user experiences are designed that makes them more attractive than other movie or TV viewing options. Especially Netflix.

Today, I want to put the spotlight on Netflix and give you 3 lessons you can take away from the platform’s design and features.

1. Make Onboarding Painless

Obviously, Netflix is a household name, so it doesn’t need to mince words on its website.

While you won’t be able to get away with a navigation-less website, what you can do to emulate the Netflix UX is to deliver just as brief and benefits-driven of a message above-the-fold.

Unlimited movies, TV shows, and more. Watch anywhere. Cancel anytime.

It perfectly sums up what users get while also taking the risk and fear out of it with “Cancel anytime.” Can you do the same? Totally.

While you’re at it, build a shortcut to the conversion point (e.g. newsletter subscription, SaaS purchase, schedule an appointment, etc.) in the same banner. Most of your visitors will need some time to educate themselves, but this will at least shorten the signup process for those who are ready to take action.

When that happens, make sure your conversion funnel is streamlined, too.

In the first step of Netflix’s signup process, it lets customers know how many steps there are while reiterating the benefits. The interface is distraction-free and easy to follow.

Next, users see plan options. Again, the UI is simple and easy to follow. The table comparing the features and value of each plan is a nice touch, too.

The final step is just as minimally designed. With a clean and clear interface, and a benefits-driven message, there’s no reason a user should have any problems getting through this process nor should they have any doubts along the way.

2. Use Your Data to Create a More Personal UX

Every year, it seems like we have a new law that sends web designers and business owners scrambling to strengthen their website privacy and security policies. And while it might feel like we’re losing control over all that big data we’ve gained access to in recent years, that’s not really the case.

What’s happening is that consumers want businesses to more carefully protect their data. Plain and simple.

There’s nothing in these laws that’s telling us to stop collecting user data. If that happened, I think consumers would be just as outraged. Personalization is one of those things consumers actually look for in the user experience — and the better a website can deliver on it, the more loyal they’ll be as customers.

As far as being responsible with user data, that’s up to you and your clients to manage. As for using the data you’re given, Netflix has shown us a number of ways to use only the most necessary data points to create a very personal experience.

First, you need to start collecting data that’ll help you refine the experience. Netflix empowers customers to help with this here:

With each movie or show’s page, users can:

Add it to their personal viewing list;

Rate it with a thumbs up or thumbs down.

Netflix uses this information to provide helpful recommendations throughout the platform.

The first spot it does this is here:

When customers are rooting around for a new movie or show to watch, this percentage should give them a clue as to how much they’ll like or dislike it. This, in turn, encourages them to rate more programs so that Netflix’s ranking algorithm can become more attuned to their preferences.

The second spot Netflix provides personalized recommendations is the main page. It actually uses this page in a couple of ways to deliver custom suggestions to users.

The first is with “Because You Watched” categories:

If a user spends enough time with a particular product, service, or content on your site, there’s a good chance they’ll like similar ones. So, this is a great way to build those suggestions into the UX.

The other way Netflix uses this page to deliver a personalized experience is through its categories. Note the categories I was shown above:

Totally Awesome 80’s;

Violent Asian Action;

True Bromance.

I have a history of watching movies and shows in these highly specific categories, so it’s pretty awesome to see these aggregated lists ready to go for me. If you can deliver a tailor-made list of recommendations, you’ll find it much easier to keep customers engaged with your product.

3. A/B Test All New Features

I’ve been a Netflix customer since 2007, so I’ve seen it go through a ton of changes over the years. WebDesigner Depot has, too:

From branding to layouts, and pricing to features, Netflix always seems to be switching things up. But here’s the thing: Netflix always implements changes that are meant to enhance the user experience. And when they don’t? It simply rolls the platform back to the way its customers preferred it.

One of the first times I remember this happening was with Max, Netflix’s talking bot:

youtube

This wasn’t a feature that was shoved onto users. It would sit in its dedicated space, waiting to be interacted with. Max would then welcome you back and ask what you’re in the mood to watch. You could pick a genre or you could let the bot provide recommendations based on how you rate other movies.

In all honesty, I was on the fence about Max. It was entertaining and I loved finding hidden gems through it. However, there were too many nights where I’d use Max hoping to find the perfect movie… only to abandon it and find something on my own.

That’s why it was no surprise when Max quietly slipped away. I have a feeling other users were just as ambivalent about it as I was.

There are a number of lessons, UX or otherwise, you can take away from this:

Be careful of trying the latest AI fads, they’re just too costly to invest in without hard data that proves that’s what your users want;

Give a new feature enough time to build up steam and provide you with reliable metrics — I remember Max being available for about six months, that’s more than enough time to gather user feedback and decide if a feature is worth keeping or not;

Personalization is great, but not necessarily if it’s at the expense of your customers’ time, sometimes the simpler feature is better.

Max isn’t the only example of Netflix playing around with its features. Do any of you recognize this?

This appears when the opening credits and theme song play at the start of a TV show. There’s really not a lot of value in sitting through this every time, and I’m willing to bet that Netflix saw that most of its users were manually fast-forwarding through them when it decided to try out this feature.

Here’s another recent feature that I think has some staying power:

While streaming services are responsible for the epidemic of binge-watching, it’s not necessarily in their best interest to allow customers to do so. Think of this “Are you still watching?” wake-up call as a form of ethical design.

This feature has been around for over a year, and it’s still going strong.

Bottom line? It’s really important to research your users when you’re in the process of building a website. However, there’s nothing more valuable than real user input from a live website.

Whether you plan to roll out a new feature or simply want to test the validity of one that exists, don’t run on assumptions. Use the new data coming in every day to further improve your design and features.

Invaluable Lessons UX Designers Can Take from Netflix

Although Netflix’s market share is slowly being chipped away at by the competition, it continues to reign supreme when it comes to streaming video services. I don’t see that changing anytime in the future either, considering how how long it’s demonstrated its willingness to innovate alongside evolving consumer needs.

And that’s really the key point I want to make in this post. While I could’ve pointed out its dramatic color palette or use of a responsive layout, we already are familiar with these concepts. The most important UX lessons we should be taking away from Netflix are the ones here.

Source from Webdesigner Depot https://ift.tt/31t8DbD from Blogger https://ift.tt/2udh8M5

#Blogger

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lyralikesdonuts · 4 years

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Lyra's Bride Guide to Saving Money on a Wedding

The following is my personal experience to budgeting for my dream wedding. Disclaimers: My wedding is still in progress, so definitely more to come and add WITH VISUALS. #budgetwedding #brideonabudget #brideguide

1. All-inclusive resort in another country

Let's get real y'all, living in California/ America for that matter, is expensive. My man and I have saved thousands of dollars by having a wedding in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. And do you really want to spend your future wedded life in so much debt that you're swimming in it up to your eyeballs? So far, we have spent less than $15k on this wedding. As I was speaking to my friends, it seemed that a wedding will often cost $20k at base price. (Unless you're having it in a forest, with like 30 people. More power to you 💪.) An all-inclusive resort includes everything you need to have a wedding (i.e. wedding planner, dj, photographer, food, drinks on tap, ALCOHOL, dance floor, entertainment, chairs AND tables). All you need to do is ask and shop around. You would be doing that anyway, but at a more reasonable price. Another positive thing about an all-inclusive resort, is that although your wedding would be smaller than normal, it would allow you to have a more personal wedding. You'd be able to distribute your time among your guests a lot more frequently. Often, we find ourselveg cutting people/ distancing ourselves from people in order to keep the number of guests down. In another country, that process will often happen itself. It can suck, but if you really want someone there, you can offer to pay for their stay. I mean, you're already saving so much money on your wedding. Although you are spending a couple hundred on plane tickets, depending on where. I chose Mexico to keep these tickets from getting too outrageous. Your guests will be paying for their stay, after all.

Downside: not everyone can make it to another country, but with technology today it would be easy to broadcast your wedding live for those loved ones that can't get on a plane. Or.... just record the wedding, if that is not necessary. Another potential problem, although it's cheaper, you have to pay for the wedding prior to having it. We often had to wire/ dump a couple thousand every month to deal. Balancing the amount of funds you spend every month on bills and outings MATTER a lot... A lot... A lot.

2. Take your time to shop around

It can be easy to pick the nicest, brightest deal out there but it may not be the BEST DEAL. What I'm saying is... take time to compare your options. A lot of resorts tend to have similar packages, but after calculating out how much food and drinks would cost per person.... The deal may actually not be as good as it may seem. Taking time to do some basic math when searching thru the hotel menus helps, literally in the thousands $$$. There are also things like having outside vendors or guests that don't stay at YOUR resort, in which you would have to pay a higher fee to have them attend the wedding. Guest list size may also play a factor. Some resort packages are limited to a certain amount and you may have to change resort location because of that. I had to ask to make sure my count would be reasonable for the hotel. The wedding planner had to alter the package price for my wedding. ( I have around 150)

3. If necessary, give yourself enough time to save money.

As much as I'd love to say I'm rich and flaunt whatever goodies I have.... I'm definitely not. And many of us are not, so let's be real. To be honest, I was shamed for the gap in which we had our engagement and when we're having our wedding party. It actually got me a bit insecure. BUT, I had to ask myself ..."are they paying for your wedding?? Answer: NO." So don't let these inconsiderate comments get to you. You are the master of your own grand plans. Your partner will thank you when you are saving money to own a big, large house that you can have your babies or hundreds of puppies in. Maybe not in San Francisco, but maybe in the Bay Area perhaps.

4. DIY as much as possible

To date, I spent a good amount of change on bridesmaid and groomsmen gifts, invitations, and etc . You may think that invitations and gifts can't be that expensive but..... When you think about it you will need nice, thick cardstock paper, envelopes, pretty printer paper, vellum, quality gifts, decorations, stamps.... So much more. I found that I saved money best by using Amazon, having experience in art, YouTube-ing, buying in bulk, and buying things over time (to decrease the monthly spending impact, ya girl has a lot of bills y'know) I also took A LOT OF time to compare gift value online in my spare time. I'm saying this because... How often will your friend wear a shirt or bring out a bag that says BRIDESMAID on it out? I tried my best to find practical but cute things, specifically with just their name on it. That is just personal preference. If you have money to spend on gifts that your friends won't really use EVER AGAIN... That's totally up to you. They are likely going to be in other weddings that provide similar trinkets. For me, I had to use my personal relationships to determine what style of bag they would often use or how often that friend parties or does activities to determine what I should spend on. If you don't know your friends personal style, take that time to get to know them to determine what to buy. I really try to be considerate and not load my friends up with things that they'll simply throw away. Useful shit is not always... crazy expensive. It doesn't have to be. For example, I found really cute monogram bags for $16. Follow my future posts for more on this.

5. Use your social network

I never did think that I would be looking to maybe BUY a 3d printer... But there I was ... Looking up to see if I could budget for a Glow Forge which has monthly payments.... To make invites, table settings, etc. I was looking at Etsy and Pinterest to determine if adding cute little details would be feasible. They were all SO OVERPRICED. Luckily for me, I found out that my super talented and artsy friend had a 3d printer and was willing to make me calligraphy wood signs, table name plates, and more. I literally thank God that I have friends with awesome talent and love me enough to give me hookups. I also have a very talented friend who takes wonderful pictures and works as a photographer to take my City Hall pictures. I would brag and show off their work, but my wedding is still " In progress." My cousin is a choreographer so he was able to help me come up with some choreography for my entertainment. Anyway, the huge takeaway is that... Friends are truly a blessing. Don't take them for granted because you may need their help.

6. Don't rely on others who will offer to help pay ** very important**

When your engagement comes, you will often have relatives asking where you'll have your wedding and in their excitement somehow come to offer in helping pay.... When asking for help, it starts to take an emotional toll when they tell you they don't have money yet or actually... "something came up". For me, this happens often. I have a large Filipino family who can be somewhat "wishy washy". I love them but it's hard to deal with when there are deadlines to be completed. There may be even times when you ask for help and they turn on you for haggling them for money. I would cry to my fiance and it would take a toll on him to have to step up and work more. Even today, I feel so guilty but grateful to have such a dependable man on my side. ANYWAY, Save yourself from any of these troubles by budgeting for a wedding you can afford. Make a high interest savings account and transfer a good amount of money into it every paycheck. Shop around to compare savings interests rates and try to transfer out money AFTER interest $ has been added to your account. The safety net offered by others may have a few holes.

You may spend more time than you think being worried about how the hell you'll afford any of this wedding nonsense when monthly bills are piling up. Relying on funds that you can't see may be a big, huge slap to your face and your wallet. It may even ruin a few relationships, but hey once YOU are able to finish paying this damn thing off you can thank YOURSELF and your partner for all the damn good hard work you put in. You'll even prevent a few relationships from collapsing. You can really say that you are your own boss and step back and be proud of your work. The day will be ALL ABOUT YOU, after all. You would've definitely earned it.

More to come as my wedding approaches... Stay tuned!

#brideonabudget #budgetwedding #brideguidetosavingmoney #weddingonabudget #lizzosavedme #financingawedding #howthehellikeepmyselfoutofdebt #wedding #engagedlife #engagement #engagedtobemarried

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ina-nutshell · 4 years

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Lobola - paid in debt

Lobola - the bride price, a tradition practiced over many years and in many cultures as a custom where a Man in pursuit of the love of his life pays a sum of money to her family in order for them to wed.

The custom goes as far back as biblical times and traditionally it was a display of good faith. Lobola was paid to show that the man is fit enough to take care of the household he seeks to build. And as a sign of good faith, the bride price was set at the amount of ruppees,shillings and live stock that the Father saw fit and the Husband -to-be could afford.

Unfortunately, this has changed over the years, lobola has become a spectacle -

A competition between families to see which girl child can be pawned at the highest price. God forbid that an honest,hardworking man is unable to afford the amount asked, he is then unable to marry his wife.

The point of departure in the various South African cultures:

A man sends a letter to the family of his beloved, stating his intentions, to which they accept his proposal for meeting.

The process:

On an agreed date and time, the families meet at the family home of the Woman proposed and upon entering a sum of money has to be placed at the gate by the future-in laws (more especially if they are late, and this can range anywhere between R50 - R250).

Seated in the house, the chosen uncles and aunts of the pursuer need to bring forth a small amount of money and a bottle of alcohol as ‘vula mlomo’ -which loosely translates to ‘opening of the mouth’, before negotiations begin. Essentially, it’s the idea that at a theme park, you pay to enter the premises and pay for a ticket.

After vula mlomo is presented the two families negotiate a price range that the one would like and the other can afford. This is usually done by listing all the achievements the pursued has accomplished, in order to ‘hike’ up the price, whilst the opposing family lists the achievements their son has accomplished to show that their son is capable of taking care of a household.

The outcome:

R150 000.

The bride price has been set and that is that. (Of course this would be specific to the younger, more “accomplished generation; Generation Y)

For the ‘very eligible’ bachelors who can otherwise afford to part with R150000 on any given day, this is loose change.

But let’s take the average Joe into account, here we are talking about the up and coming generation who are trying to find their feet, nevermind accumulate wealth.

Lobola has become a barrier of entry for most households.

Picture this: Joe who works a 9-5 earning approximately R12500 per month, would have to save his entire salary, without spending a single cent for a period of 12 months to raise the money.

Obviously not feasible.

Joe has responsibilities; car installment at R2500, car insurance at R800, family contribution at R2500, entertainment expenses at R1000, self care at R1500, Medical aid R1050 and petrol for the month at R2000.

Coming to a grand total of R11 350.

Leaving R1150 for Joe to save every month in order to wed his wife. Given the set amount of R150 000, it will take 130 months to save.

Of course this is a rough estimate of the average person’s monthly expenses but it does not take away from the fact that this is the reality of what families are now asking for lobola.

Which begs the question of sanity.

Young couples are then forced to go into their marriage indebted because most Husbands are now wedding their wives via loan in order to fulfill a custom that has lost its meaning.

Essentially, couples can find themselves indebted up to three times the amount because after lobola comes the exaggerated weddings and traditional ceremonies, buying of house and the actual starting of their lives together.

Honeymoons are out of the question because honestly, that was never a black custom.

Some may argue that white weddings were never part of the black custom too but neither was exorbitant amounts for lobola.

So what is the ‘appropriate’ amount to ask for lobola? I would say an amount that you could willingly agree to your daughter paying if the custom was reversed.

The hope of asking for outrageous prices of lobola so that you can extend the family home, finish paying off the car and comfortably send the last born to varsity, is ridiculous.

It is not only demotivating young couples from getting married, but it also creates room for defiance. Young couples are increasingly ‘marrying’ themselves off by having children out of wedlock and living with their partners because it is now a much easier and less expensive option compared to paying lobola.

In a nutshell, it absurd for our trusted elders to expect young couples to get married, whilst their lobola prices are set at an amount that will fund their lifestyles and be a one way ticket to bragging rights. The number one cause of divorce is stress due to finances and black child, if black tax was already stressful, that is only compounded when your marriage starts off with lobola paid in debt.

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thecoroutfitters · 7 years

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Written by Wild Bill on The Prepper Journal.

Editors Note: This is an article originally “published” by Jeffery Tucker of Liberty.me in 2012. The Prepper Journal is republishing it with some additional materials (and some pictures for flow and effect.) I have sought the authors permission but have had no response to any inquiries. It stands on its own merit, even thought it was posted in 2012. As always, if you have information for Preppers that you would like to share and possibly receive a $25 cash award, as well as being entered into the Prepper Writing Contest AND have a chance to win one of three Amazon Gift Cards with the top prize being a $300 card to purchase your own prepping supplies, then enter today!

“The gas gauge broke. There was no smartphone app to tell me how much was left, so I ran out. I had to call the local gas station to give me enough to get on my way. The gruff but lovable attendant arrived in his truck and started to pour gas in my car’s tank. And pour. And pour…

“Hmmm, I just hate how slow these gas cans are these days,” he grumbled. “There’s no vent on them.” That sound of frustration in this guy’s voice was strangely familiar, the grumble that comes when something that used to work but doesn’t work anymore, for some odd reason we can’t identify

I’m pretty alert to such problems these days. Soap doesn’t work. Toilets don’t flush. Clothes washers don’t clean. Light bulbs don’t illuminate. Refrigerators break too soon. Paint discolors. Lawnmowers have to be hacked. It’s all caused by idiotic government regulations that are wrecking our lives one consumer product at a time, all in ways we hardly notice.

It’s like the barbarian invasions that wrecked Rome, taking away the gains we’ve made in bettering our lives. It’s the bureaucrats’ way of reminding market producers and consumers who is in charge.

Surely, the gas can is protected. It’s just a can, for goodness sake. Yet he was right. This one doesn’t have a vent. Who would make a can without a vent unless it was done under duress? After all, everyone knows to vent anything that pours. Otherwise, it doesn’t pour right and is likely to spill.

It took one quick search. The whole trend began in (wait for it) California. Regulations began in 2000, with the idea of preventing spillage. The notion spread and was picked up by the EPA, which is always looking for new and innovative ways to spread as much human misery as possible.

An ominous regulatory announcement from the EPA came in 2007: “Starting with containers manufactured in 2009… it is expected that the new cans will be built with a simple and inexpensive permeation barrier and new spouts that close automatically.”

The government never said “no vents.” It abolished them de facto with new standards that every state had to adopt by 2009. So for the last three years, you have not been able to buy gas cans that work properly. They are not permitted to have a separate vent. The top has to close automatically. There are other silly things now, too, but the biggest problem is that they do not do well what cans are supposed to do.

And don’t tell me about spillage. It is far more likely to spill when the gas is gurgling out in various uneven ways, when one spout has to both pour and suck in air. That’s when the lawn mower tank becomes suddenly full without warning, when you are shifting the can this way and that just to get the stuff out.

There’s also the problem of the exploding can. On hot days, the plastic models to which this regulation applies can blow up like balloons. When you release the top, gas flies everywhere, including possibly on a hot engine. Then the trouble really begins. Never heard of this rule? You will know about it if you go to the local store. Most people buy one or two of these items in the course of a lifetime, so you might otherwise have not encountered this outrage.

Yet let enough time go by. A whole generation will come to expect these things to work badly. Then some wise young entrepreneur will have the bright idea, “Hey, let’s put a hole on the other side so this can work properly.” But he will never be able to bring it into production. The government won’t allow it!

It’s striking to me that the websites and institutions that complain about government involvement in our lives never mentioned this, at least not so far as I can tell. The only sites that seem to have discussed this are the boating forums and the lawn forums. These are the people who use these cans more than most. The level of anger and vitriol is amazing to read, and every bit of it is justified.

There is no possible rationale for these kinds of regulations. It can’t be about emissions really, since the new cans are more likely to result in spills. It’s as if some bureaucrat were sitting around thinking of ways to make life worse for everyone, and hit upon this new, cockamamie rule.

These days, government is always open to a misery-making suggestion. The notion that public policy would somehow make life better is a relic of days gone by. It’s as if government has decided to specialize in what it is best at and adopt a new principle: “Let’s leave social progress to the private sector; we in the government will concentrate on causing suffering and regress.”

You are already thinking of hacks. Why not just stab the thing with a knife and be done with it? If you have to transport the can in the car, that’s a problem. You need a way to plug the vent with something.

Some boating forums have suggested drilling a hole and putting a tire stem in there and using the screw top as the way to close the hole. Great idea. Just what I wanted to do with my Saturday afternoon, hacking the gas can to make it work exactly as well as it did three years ago, before government wrecked it.

You can also buy an old-time metal can. It turns out that special regulations pertain here, too, and it’s all about the spout, which is not easy to fill. They are also unusually expensive. I’m not sure that either of these options is ideal.

Who knew this would be a thing of beauty someday?

It fascinates me to see how these regulations give rise to market-based workarounds. I’ve elsewhere called this the speak-easy economy. The government bans something. No one likes the ban. People are determined to get on with their lives, regardless. They step outside the narrow bounds of the law.

It wouldn’t surprise me to find, for example, a sudden proliferation of heavy-duty “water cans” in 1- and 5-gallon sizes, complete with nice spouts and vents, looking almost exactly like the gas cans you could get anywhere just a few years ago. How very interesting to discover this.

Of course, this law-abiding writer would never advocate buying one of these and using it for some purpose other than what is written on the package. Doing something like that would show profound disrespect for our betters in the bureaucracies. And if I did suggest something like that, there’s no telling the trouble that it would bring down on my head.

Ask yourself this: If they can wreck such a normal and traditional item like this, and do it largely under the radar screen, what else have they mandatorily malfunctioned? How many other things in our daily lives have been distorted? If some product annoys you in surprising ways, there’s a good chance that it is not the invisible hand at work, but rather the regulatory grip that is squeezing the life out of civilization itself.”

I have include the original authors bio, without changes, but now without this comment “plain old Tucker does not respond to emails sent to plain old [email protected].

I’m executive editor of Laissez Faire Books and the Chief Liberty Officer of Liberty.me, an innovative private society for publishing, learning, and networking. I’m the author of four books in the field of economics and one on early music. My personal twitter account @jeffreyatucker FB is @jeffrey.albert.tucker Plain old email is [email protected]

Editors Note: Republished as food for thought . Of course his comment on “leaving social progress to the private sector” has since been disproved and certainly one can make a case against gasoline spillage and fumes, but not at the expense of degrading performance. This is the result of designing and implementing solutions in a vacuum. A lot has happened since 2012, a lot of things have changed, and there has been some reversal of “the crazies” but, then again the crazies are still in charge in so many places, protected by labor laws specifically designed to keep them from being weeded out, having to face the same review as people in the private sector. So new crazies are still producing….

Apologies for the fuzzy quality of the picture, you can look for yourself.

For not just preppers, but everyone, knowledge is always our first line of defense and keeping up with the crazies is a new career. Small, medium and large businesses have employees, or staffs of employees, that do nothing but “compliance”. As a friend told me once after driving from Northern California to Southern California with an unloaded 12 gauge shotgun in his trunk, a legally purchased gift for his father, that he was sure the number of county and city laws he violated on the drive was north of 50. BTW my recently purchased gas can has a vent installed, a small hole drilled and plugged with a shaved wine cork. A good prepper will always find a way, a good prepper will always check his stash and supplies …and will also hope the NSA misses this post.

The post Something Borrowed…From the Ghost of Government Past appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

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theadmiringbog · 5 years

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*wakes up and looks at phone* ah let’s see what fresh horrors await me on the fresh horrors device

–@MISSOKISTIC IN A TWEET ON NOVEMBER 10, 2016

A more recent project that acts in a similar spirit is Scott Polach’s Applause Encouraged, which happened at Cabrillo National Monument in San Diego in 2015. On a cliff overlooking the sea, forty-five minutes before the sunset, a greeter checked guests in to an area of foldout seats formally cordoned off with red rope. They were ushered to their seats and reminded not to take photos. They watched the sunset, and when it finished, they applauded. Refreshments were served afterward.

—

Bird-watching is the opposite of looking something up online.

They write: If you can have your time and work and live and be a person, then the question you’re faced with every day isn’t, Do I really have to go to work today? but, How do I contribute to this thing called life? What can I do today to benefit my family, my company, myself?

To me, “company” doesn’t belong in that sentence. Even if you love your job! Unless there’s something specifically about you or your job that requires it, there is nothing to be admired about being constantly connected, constantly potentially productive the second you open your eyes in the morning—and in my opinion, no one should accept this, not now, not ever.

Audre Lorde meant it in the 1980s, when she said that “[c]aring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”

As Gabrielle Moss, author of Glop: Nontoxic, Expensive Ideas That Will Make You Look Ridiculous and Feel Pretentious (a book parodying goop, Gwyneth Paltrow’s high-priced wellness empire), put it: self-care “is poised to be wrenched away from activists and turned into an excuse to buy an expensive bath oil.”

Thinking about sensitivity reminds me of a monthlong artist residency I once attended with two other artists in an extremely remote location in the Sierra Nevada. There wasn’t much to do at night, so one of the artists and I would sometimes sit on the roof and watch the sunset. She was Catholic and from the Midwest; I’m sort of the quintessential California atheist. I have really fond memories of the languid, meandering conversations we had up there about science and religion. And what strikes me is that neither of us ever convinced the other—that wasn’t the point—but we listened to each other, and we did each come away different, with a more nuanced understanding of the other person’s position.

The life force is concerned with cyclicality, care, and regeneration; the death force sounds to me a lot like “disrupt.” Obviously, some amount of both is necessary, but one is routinely valorized, not to mention masculinized, while the other goes unrecognized because it has no part in “progress.”

Certain people would like to use technology to live longer, or forever. Ironically, this desire perfectly illustrates the death drive at play in the “Manifesto of Maintenance Art” (“separation, individuality, Avant-Garde par excellence; to follow one’s own path—do your own thing; dynamic change”)30. To such people I humbly propose a far more parsimonious way to live forever: to exit the trajectory of productive time, so that a single moment might open almost to infinity. As John Muir once said, “Longest is the life that contains the largest amount of time-effacing enjoyment.”

Poswolsky writes of their initial discovery: “I think we also found the answer to the universe, which was, quite simply: just spend more time with your friends.”

... he said, with an epiphany he had while accompanying a fellow clergyman on a trip to Louisville:

In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness.

My most-liked Facebook post of all time was an anti-Trump screed. In my opinion, this kind of hyper-accelerated expression on social media is not exactly helpful (not to mention the huge amount of value it produces for Facebook). It’s not a form of communication driven by reflection and reason, but rather a reaction driven by fear and anger.

Obviously these feelings are warranted, but their expression on social media so often feels like firecrackers setting off other firecrackers in a very small room that soon gets filled with smoke.

Our aimless and desperate expressions on these platforms don’t do much for us, but they are hugely lucrative for advertisers and social media companies, since what drives the machine is not the content of information but the rate of engagement. Meanwhile, media companies continue churning out deliberately incendiary takes, and we’re so quickly outraged by their headlines that we can’t even consider the option of not reading and sharing them.

To stand apart is to take the view of the outsider without leaving, always oriented toward what it is you would have left. It means not fleeing your enemy, but knowing your enemy, which turns out not to be the world—contemptus mundi—but the channels through which you encounter it day to day. It also means giving yourself the critical break that media cycles and narratives will not, allowing yourself to believe in another world while living in this one.

Standing apart represents the moment in which the desperate desire to leave (forever!) matures into a commitment to live in permanent refusal, where one already is, and to meet others in the common space of that refusal. This kind of resistance still manifests as participating, but participating in the “wrong way”: a way that undermines the authority of the hegemonic game and creates possibilities outside of it.

A crowded sidewalk is a good example: everyone is expected to continue moving forward. Tom Green poked at this convention when he performed “the Dead Guy,” on his Canadian public access TV show in the 1990s. Slowing his walk to a halt, he carefully lowered himself to the ground and lay facedown and stick-straight for an uncomfortable period of time. After quite a crowd had amassed, he got up, looked around, and nonchalantly walked away.

So to a question like “Will you or will you not participate as asked?” Diogenes would have answered something else entirely: “I will participate, but not as asked,” or, “I will stay, but I will be your gadfly.” This answer (or non-answer) is something I think of as producing what I’ll call a “third space”—an almost magical exit to another frame of reference. For someone who cannot otherwise live with the terms of her society, the third space can provide an important if unexpected harbor.

Herman Melville’s short story, “Bartleby, the Scrivener.” Bartleby, the clerk famous for repeating the phrase, “I would prefer not to,” uses a linguistic strategy to invalidate the requests of his boss. Not only does he not comply; he refuses the terms of the question itself.

Facebook abstention, like telling someone you grew up in a house with no TV, can all too easily appear to be taste or class related.

We need to be able to think across different time scales when the mediascape would have us think in twenty-four-hour (or shorter) cycles, to pause for consideration when clickbait would have us click, to risk unpopularity by searching for context when our Facebook feed is an outpouring of unchecked outrage and scapegoating, to closely study the ways that media and advertising play upon our emotions, to understand the algorithmic versions of ourselves that such forces have learned to manipulate, and to know when we are being guilted, threatened, and gaslighted into reactions that come not from will and reflection but from fear and anxiety.

“In short, when the inattention stimulus falls outside the area to which attention is paid, it is much less likely to capture attention and be seen,” the researchers write. That’s intuitive enough, but it gets more complicated. If the briefly flashing stimulus was outside the area of visual attention, but was something distinct like a smiley face or the person’s name, the subject would notice it after all.

As an artist interested in using art to influence and widen attention, I couldn’t help extrapolating the implications from visual attention to attention at large.

In a post about ad blockers on the University of Oxford’s “Practical Ethics” blog, the technology ethicist James Williams (of Time Well Spent) lays out the stakes: We experience the externalities of the attention economy in little drips, so we tend to describe them with words of mild bemusement like “annoying” or “distracting.” But this is a grave misreading of their nature. In the short term, distractions can keep us from doing the things we want to do. In the longer term, however, they can accumulate and keep us from living the lives we want to live, or, even worse, undermine our capacities for reflection and self-regulation, making it harder, in the words of Harry Frankfurt, to “want what we want to want.” Thus there are deep ethical implications lurking here for freedom, wellbeing, and even the integrity of the self.

In an effort to make the user aware of persuasive design, Nudget used overlays to call out and describe several of the persuasive design elements in the Facebook interface as the user encountered them. But the thesis is also useful simply as a catalog of the many forms of persuasive design—the kinds that behavioral scientists have been studying in advertising since the mid-twentieth century.

Vivrekar lists the strategies identified by researchers Marwell and Schmitt in 1967: “reward, punishment, positive expertise, negative expertise, liking/ingratiation, gifting/pre-giving, debt, aversive stimulation, moral appeal, positive self-feeling, negative self-feeling, positive altercasting, negative altercasting, positive esteem of others, and negative esteem of others.”

Vivrekar herself has study participants identify instances of persuasive design on the LinkedIn site and compiles a staggering list of 171 persuasive design techniques.

“knowing your enemy” when it comes to the attention economy. For example, one could draw parallels between the Nudget system, which teaches users to see the ways in which they are being persuaded, and the Prejudice Lab, which shows participants how bias guides their behavior.

Or that the woman in front of you in line who just screamed at you is maybe not usually like this; maybe she’s going through a rough time. Whether this is actually true isn’t the point. Just considering the possibility makes room for the lived realities of other people, whose depths are the same as your own. This is a marked departure from the self-centered “default setting,”

Last week, after a meeting, I took the F streetcar from Civic Center to the Ferry Building in San Francisco. It’s a notoriously slow, crowded, and halting route, especially in the middle of the day. This pace, added to my window seat, gave me a chance to look at the many faces of the people on Market Street with the same alienation as the slow scroll of Hockney’s Yorkshire Landscapes. Once I accepted the fact that each face I looked at (and I tried to look at each of them) was associated with an entire life—of birth, of childhood, of dreams and disappointments, of a universe of anxieties, hopes, grudges, and regrets totally distinct from mine—this slow scene became almost impossibly absorbing. As Hockney said: “There’s a lot to look at.” Even though I’ve lived in a city most of my adult life, in that moment I was floored by the density of life experience folded into a single city street.

When the language of advertising and personal branding enjoins you to “be yourself,” what it really means is “be more yourself,” where “yourself” is a consistent and recognizable pattern of habits, desires, and drives that can be more easily advertised to and appropriated, like units of capital.

In fact, I don’t know what a personal brand is other than a reliable, unchanging pattern of snap judgments: “I like this” and “I don’t like this,” with little room for ambiguity or contradiction.

The fact that commenting on the weather is a cliché of small talk is actually a profound reminder of this, since the weather is one of the only things we each know any other person must pay attention to.

(“bland enough to offend no one”)

The professional social media star, a person reverse-engineered from a formula of what is most palatable to everyone all the time.

Everybody says that there is no censorship on the internet, or at least only in part. But that is not true. Online censorship is applied through the excess of banal content that distracts people from serious or collective issues.

Our interactions become data collected by a company, and engagement goals are driven by advertising.

Mastodon... They allow more granular control of one’s intended audience; when you post to Mastodon, you can have the content’s visibility restricted to a single person, your followers, or your instance—or it can be public.

... forming any idea requires a combination of privacy and sharing. But this restraint is difficult when it comes to commercial social media, whose persuasive design collapses context within our very thought processes themselves by assuming we should share our thoughts right now—indeed, that we have an obligation to form our thoughts in public!

A counterexample would be the sparse UX of Patchwork, a social networking platform that runs on Scuttlebutt. Scuttlebutt is a sort of global mesh network that can go without servers, ISPs, or even Internet connection (if you have a USB stick handy). It can do that because it relies on individual users’ computers as the servers, similar to local mesh networks, and because your “account” on a Scuttlebutt-powered social media platform is simply an encrypted block of data that you keep on your computer.

In #NeverAgain, David Hogg writes that “[a]nger will get you started but it won’t keep you going.”

Before long, the conference would be over, and I would have missed most of it. A lot of things would have happened there that are important and useful. For my part, I wouldn’t have much to show for my “time well spent”—no pithy lines to tweet, no new connections, no new followers. I might only tell one or two other people about my observations and the things I learned. Otherwise, I’d simply store them away, like seeds that might grow some other day if I’m lucky.

Seen from the point of view of forward-pressing, productive time, this behavior would appear delinquent. I’d look like a dropout. But from the point of view of the place, I’d look like someone who was finally paying it attention. And from the point of view of myself, the person actually experiencing my life, and to whom I will ultimately answer when I die—I would know that I spent that day on Earth.

“I would prefer not to.”

#How to Do Nothing #books

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caramellattebaby · 7 years

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an interesting article on pap smears and invasive screenings for women

The long-standing obsession of Australian health care system with pap smears. It really is an obsession, to the point that it makes women feel like their bodies have the only organ — cervix, because no matter what the reason of their visit to the doctor is — be it a sprained foot or inflamed tonsillitis — the women are asked when they had the last pap smear and pestered to have the next one if they are “due”. The hype around pap smear screening deceives women into thinking that cervical cancer is a rampant disease and should be the focus of their health care, diminishing the importance of much more common and dangerous health problems. Pro-screening doctors never tell women that the lifetime risk of developing cervical cancer is only 0.68%. Neither they tell that for those who regularly submit to routine pap smears, the lifetime risk of being sent to further investigations, painful cervical biopsies, or undergo harmful “treatments” for false positives or minor cervical abnormalities that would otherwise heal on their, own is shocking 77%. Formally, these medical tortures are called “minor and simple procedures”, but one should try to imagine how they would’ve been called if anything of the sort was performed on men. Most of those harmed-for-nothing women are brainwashed by the System to believe that they had a mortal illness and the “treatments” saved their lives. Simple maths show that this cannot be true. If it was true and the 77% of referred women were indeed treated for a mortal disease, the incidence of cervical cancer amongst the women who managed to avoid screening would be 77%, which is far from the truth. According to the medical officials only about 60% of targeted women participate in pap-screening, and those 40% who don’t screen make up 3/4 of all cervical cancer cases. Which means that the highest possible risk for those who don’t screen is 1.275%, and the lowest possible risk for those who screen all their life is 0.283%, an therefore there is less than 1% difference in chance of getting the cancer no matter whether one screens or not. So, 77% or 1.275%? The difference reveals a huge mismatch between the truth and the brainwashing medical propaganda.

“Invasive cervical cancer is a rare disease. The annual incidence was below 15 per 100,000 in Australia even before the National Cervical Screening Program began, but current screening is detecting some kind of abnormality in about 5000 women of every 100,000 screened” — Australian Institute of Health and Welfare statistics (2003) given to medical professionals in the cervical cancer screening guidelines. “Cervical cancer is the second most common cancer in women worldwide” — this is what women are told to get them into screening. A bit of a difference, isn’t?

To add insult to an injury, according to the same medical officials, “up to 90% of the most common form of cancer of the cervix could be prevented if women had pap smears every two years”, which means that pap smears are even more useless for less common types of cervical cancer, and that more than 10% women with cervical cancer got the disease despite having all the pap smears, and probably ignored early symptoms due to erroneous reassurance given by the unreliable test. Which brings us to the final score: 77% of those having regular pap smears are harmed for nothing and 10% with cancer are missed by the regular pap smears. Now, how many women are openly offered to make an informed decision to take part in this screening program to reduce their risk of cervical cancer by less than 1%, with 77% chance of being harmed for no benefit? None! Every woman is told she “must screen because it saves lives.”

One may ask, why is the truth hidden, skewed and twisted? Because it is easier and cheaper for the system to butcher 77% healthy women than to treat 0.68% with cancer, and hiding the truth is the only way to make the population comply. There is also too much politics around women’s health care these days: after centuries of neglect, everyone is trying to score political points by telling women what to with their own bodies. And, perhaps, the astonishing amount of painful and harmful (but very quick, cheap and simple for doctors to perform) “treatments” makes it look like pap smears really save lives, and so the screening program keeps going on, securing medical employment and keeping female patients on a short leash and their reproductive organs under the government surveillance, which may sound ridiculous, but it is the only explanation why HPV-vaccinated women are told they must continue to get pap tests because the vaccine prevents only up to 80% of cervical cancers, Amazing, isn’t it? Pap smears that detect less than 90% of cancers and lead to harm of 77% of women are advertised as wonderful life-savers, yet the vaccine that can prevent 80% of cancers is not good enough to stop pap smears. Unless of course, the System rolled out a program it is still unsure about, and needs to keep the guinea pigs coming to finish the research and find a new way of generating the income.

Then, did anyone’s doctor explain why in Finland pap smears are recommended every 5 years for women after they are 30 year old, while in Australia they are pushing the smears every 2 years once girls turns 18? (In USA there are even more outrageous cases of withholding oral contraceptives if women don’t want do pap smears every year. Patients pay for pap smears and the doctors receive benefits for doing them; but, of course everything is presented as being solely for the women’s own good.) Remarkable, with all that, Finland has the lowest rate of incidence of cervical cancer in the world. How is that? Because they know in Finland that young girls show a lot of pap smear abnormalities that resolve without any medical intervention; they know that scaring young women with cancer, detected abnormalities, and, even worse, operating the abnormalities, is damaging the health and the mind. They also know that such damage and stress may, indeed, lead to cancer in the future. Another thing they know in Finland is that ordinary pap smear is a very unreliable test and shows lots of false positives and false negatives; so they use a more reliable and more expensive preparation. It does’t cost Finish women any extra — the medical system in Finland is free; and because those smears are more accurate, less of them is required and less money needs to be spent on the cervical cancer screening.

In Australia, they do the test the cheapy way, and in the end it costs taxpayers more. That is why Australia recommends paps every 2 years: not to detect cervical cancer, which takes about 10 years to develop, but to make up for unreliability of the cheaply done test. Are Australian women told any of this? No. They are just pestered to hop on the examination table and scaremongered that if they don’t do it, they will sure get the cancer and leave their children motherless. Also, the women aren’t told that the 2 year intervals were set by the System after lumping the risks of the whole population: those who enjoy one night stands every Friday (and therefore are at a greater risk of the cancer-causing HPV infection) and those who is in a long-term monogamous relationship; which means that the first category may benefit from 2 year screening, while the second one may not need this test at all. But the women are not allowed to evaluate their own risks and needs or choose their own preventative strategy. The pap test can feel degrading and humiliating for some women, can damage their self-consciousness and sexuality. But the System doesn’t want to consider that. It knows that pap smears are cheap, two-year intervals give a greater control over women and provide good numbers for the annual reports about cancer prevention.

Then, there is problem of Pap Smear Registers run by each Australian state... After a woman submits to propaganda and does the pap smear, her personal details together with her tests results are automatically passed to the female genital surveillance database (register), stored in their database and used for their researching, statistical and self-promotional purposes. Another function of the registers is to bombard the woman with letters and reminders when they think she is “due” for another pap smear. It is unknown how anyone can be due for an optional, elective screening procedure, but the letters arrive nevertheless. The registers also contact the defaulting woman’s doctors to warn the doctors that they are not brainwashing the woman well enough because she doesn’t do what the System told her to and “missed” her pap smear. Luckily, the woman still has the right to opt out of such “care” if she doesn’t want the government organisation to monitor what is going on between her legs, but she will have to sign the opt-off request each and every time she does a pap smear or other related test. Forget to say ‘no’ just once — and all the private information goes to the register again. It is invasive, patronising and outrageous, like any other imposed opt-off arrangement. Any service, especially those dealing with private matters, must be strictly, explicitly opt-in. But the System knows that there are not too many women eager to give their privacy away and be haunted “for their own good”, hence the opt-off only.

Under this legislation, “it is the Pap smear provider’s responsibility to inform each woman having a Pap smear, histology or HPV DNA test about the PSR. This includes telling the woman about the existence and purposes of the Register, the identifying and clinical information about the woman that may be recorded in the Register, and that the woman may elect for her identifying and clinical information not be automatically included in the Register. When a woman advises her Pap smear provider she does not want her details recorded on the PSR, the Pap smear provider must place a ‘Not for PS Register’ sticker or write ‘Not for PSR’ on the Pathology Request Form each time a Pap smear or related test is ordered.” In reality, very few women are told about the existence of the Registers, let alone offered the chance to opt out on the spot. Medical practitioners use the excuse that it would be impracticable to spend time on such talks, yet they find it very practicable to waste every woman’s consultation time on lecturing her that she “must screen” or that she “is due for another smear”.

“For our own good” — we hear it too often, no matter how painful, inconvenient, invasive or unnecessary a procedure is. Too often there is no explanation why we need it and where exactly that “own good” is going to be in the long run. “For our own good”, says the System that for decades, from 1950s to 1970s, coerced unmarried Australian women to give up their newborn babies for adoption. The System that sincerely believed that tying women to their beds, screwing their alertness with drugs and taking their children away forever was for their own good. Unmarried mothers automatically had their hospital records marked ready for adoption, even before giving birth. Many were sedated to the point of not remembering signing the adoption documents. As a result, the women have suffered immense emotional distress throughout their lives. The system decided that such pain was an appropriate punishment for the women’s immorality and falling pregnant outside of a government-controlled marriage. At the same time, the system made birth control difficult to access and termination of pregnancy illegal. All for someone’s own good too? Nowadays, the System was pushed for an official apology to those women for trauma and ongoing mental health problems associated with forced adoption, but who can guarantee, that in 20 years the same System won’t be apologising for another initiative it imposes on us today? So, if we don’t stand up for ourselves now and just allow anything to be done to us, all we can get is an apology, some time in the future, at best.

If the System really cared about women’s heath, they would do a good study on why one half of the women avoid screening and another half are so badly harmed by it instead of inventing new campaigns, ads and incentive payments to doctors for coercing a set percentage of their patients into screening. If the System really cared about the best care for women, it would offer HPV self-tests with an option to do the test anonymously, which would produce much more reliable results, much better risk assessment and would guarantee that the woman’s privacy is respected and protected, and that the decision about the further actions is totally up to her. But the System obviously doesn’t want women to make their own decisions, it wants to order, control and violate privacy, because it’s simpler, cheaper and and produces good statistics.

Carefully orchestrated campaigns are constantly unrolled to get more people into screening. They don’t do it by providing true facts and unbiased information and allowing people to make up their own minds. It is done through misinformation, exaggeration of the disease risks and the benefits of screening, by omitting the risks of testing, by usage of scare tactics, appeals to guilt like “do it for your family”, “don’t leave your children motherless”. If the population does not have a solid knowledge of true facts, risks and benefits, they become victims of anxiety and end up in the doctor’s room just to get read of the fears induced by such campaigns.

If the System really cared, it would tell the women that there is no proven benefit of pap-smears when they are younger than 30, and that only 5% of women over 30 are HPV-positive, so the remaining 95% are not at risk of cervical cancer at all. But instead, the System prefers to continue with “HPV is very common, so everyone is at risk” line. It prefers to set target to pap-test all women and to send most of them to harmful treatments just in case, rather than let the women to determine their HPV-status and see that most of them don’t need pap-smears at all. The System covers its back with the carefully composed explanation that because most HPV infection heal without consequences, discovering that she is HPV-positive would lead to unnecessary stress for the woman. What a sudden care about women’s stress! According to this approach, the System would rather perform an invasive exam on all women every 2 years, scare 77% of them at least once in their lifetime with abnormal pap-test results and send them to painful biopsies and harmful treatments, rather than tell 5% HPV-positive women that they have a small risk if their infection persists. The System would rather butcher women’s cervixes whenever there are some abnormal cells than let the women find out that they have an infection and make healthy changes in their lifestyle as soon as possible to prevent any the abnormal cell from forming. There is either no logic, or it is not a health care — because it is not about heath, nor about care.

The System keeps protecting the faulty pap-screening program. The program is already in place, it’s massive, lots of money has been spent, lots of people employed — of course no one is willing to admit it brings more harm than good. This hinders and slows down the development and introduction of better alternatives and less invasive tests. The pap-smear still is touted as the best “life saver from cervical cancer”, and the majority of women are led to believe it. But the sad thing is that if there is no demand for anything better, we won’t be offered anything better, and those who blindly trust the System wrongly believe they are getting the best care and are being fully informed with the latest technology and statistics.

http://annystudio.com/misc/better-health-care/

#interesting #pap smear #cervical cancer

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biancagarciacruz-blog · 7 years

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15 Filipinas On Why They Need Birth Control, The Contraceptive Ban And Why It’s Stupid

Unless you haven’t heard, The Supreme Court has issued a TRO (temporary restraining order) on contraceptives in 2015. At first, they were only covering Implanon and other implants. It was later expanded to cover pills, injectables, intrauterine devices, vaginal rings, and other brands. Slowly but surely, oral contraceptives have been disappearing off the shelves of drug stores and health centres, including my brand, with the great possibility of them disappearing forever in about three years.

If The Supreme Court has it’s way, we Filipinos will only be left with two options: condoms and “Family Planning”. For my readers abroad or anyone who simply doesn’t know, “Family Planning” basically means ABSTINENCE. Yes, they are basically asking us to abstain from sex, which by the way is one our basic human needs. Because fuck science, right?

Personally, I am outraged. I am outraged because The Supreme Court refuses to look at the country’s real problems, like overpopulation and immense poverty. They are so focused on turning a blind eye on the real issues only because [Insert Bible verse here]. We are sorry (no, we’re really not), but that will never be a good enough excuse. Wake up, guys! What year is it? People are definitely having sex and birth control is ABSOLUTELY NOT only about having sex. Oh my god, what a shocker. Let me give you 15 Filipinas On Why They Need Birth Control, The Contraceptive Ban And Why It’s Stupid.

First thing’s first:

SIGN THE PETITION HERE

“I am currently using trust pills. It's cheap as hell, does the job, and it’s the only one I have tried so far that doesn't make me feel awful side effects like headaches and nausea. My partner and I were alarmed by this TRO on contraceptives as we're both not ready to have kids yet and let's be real, we're both consenting adults in a committed relationship. We're having sex responsibly. I take the pill for my peace of mind. I like having the choice of deciding when to have kids. We've decided to hoard on pills and hope this TRO will be lifted soon enough.”

-Koko

“I am absolutely furious. This will directly affect my health as I do take Yasmin for a number of things. One, to balance my hormones, because I suffer from hormonal imbalance, which affects my skin, my mood, my hair, my appetite, and much more. Two, I use it to avoid unwanted pregnancy, because I cannot afford more than one child. I feel very violated that a bunch of lawmakers could even think of interfering with women’s health rights. My next move would probably be to buy contraceptives abroad. I will definitely not allow these idiots to control my body.”

-Anonymous

“I use Diane birth control pills, and I take it because my ob-gyn diagnosed me with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome). Apparently, it's like an epidemic now, and many young women have it, as it's linked to stress, which I really am. That's my main reason for using it, because without it, I get really crazy hormone imbalance, crazy weight gain/loss, and I skip my periods months at a time, but sometimes bleed for months at a time. I don't really use it for actual contraception uses but, sure, why not? [If] bringing BC in from abroad [becomes] illegal, I have no idea how I'm going to survive.”

-Meriela

“In transition from male to female, you are to take two medications, estrogen and anti-androgen. Estrogen pills are very difficult to find so we substitute it with birth control pills, which has estrogen content in it. Anti androgen is by prescription but unfortunately gender doctors are not available in the country due to laws. Contraceptives are the only alternative for us to transition until we are able to finance ourselves to buy our medications abroad, which is quite expensive. Banning contraceptives here in the Philippines is taking away the freedom of us transgender being able to transition and express who we are. Not only that, it is taking away freedom of women the choice of what happens in her body. The only way for me to be able to transition is if I move to other countries to continue my medication. Transgender people will no longer be able to transition of contraception is not allowed in the Philippines.”

-Ish

**As a former fashion student that has been in fashion school for more than three years, I’ve had the pleasure and privilege of having such a wide array of people with different genders and sexualities around me, including transgender women. The talk of birth control and injections for their transition was a normal, everyday conversation for us. I really can’t explain why it took me a couple of days to even realize that they too will be greatly affected by the TRO. Now, it comforts me to know that we have more beautiful souls to fight for the right to our own bodies.

“Pills have changed my life. For almost a year, I’ve been in and out of the hospital (monthly) because of my ovarian cysts. Antibiotics and other medication have been given to me but they would just cure the cysts for a certain amount of time, then the cysts would still come back. But when I decided to ask for a third opinion from my third OB, she asked me to take Dianne pills for 3 months. I tried it and goodbye cysts for almost a year now.”

-Shin

“For years, I have always been irregular with my menstrual cycle. After getting checked, my doctor told me I have PCOS and that I needed to take birth control pills. It took me three different brands (roughly six months) to finally find the pill with barely any side effects. Finding out about the TRO made me sick to my gut. Most pro-life groups argue that there are "natural" ways to treat PCOS, and trust me, I've tried doing that already. I was on metformin, and I changed my lifestyle. However, nothing made me feel more in control, less anxious and less worrisome than the pill I'm taking now. I think working with the government to lift this TRO is the first step. I know that they agreed for a public hearing, so all efforts must be geared towards that. My last move is to talk to my doctors for alternatives because I'm hopeful that we can do something about it!”

-Ekay

“Ayy, that’s basically preventing Filipina transgender women, like myself, from their transition. We, the transgender community, don’t even get any support from the government to begin with and now they even dare to take away our pills! Worst comes to worst, I’m just going to order hormones from Thailand.”

-Yuko

“As a student nurse, I would go and visit communities and talk to pregnant women, mothers, and families. I was distraught by their lack of knowledge with sex and reproductive health. To have a community of people, men and women who are not used to using condoms and did not undergo proper sex education. What happens to women if you take away the only contraceptive they are using or the only contraceptive that works for them? As a woman, I should have rights that protect myself from the closed minded sectors of this country like the government, religious groups, and the church. Although I have respect for the religious communities and the church, they must understand that not everyone has the same belief system and values as them and the way I live my life should be my choice. I am using birth control pills and my reason for using the pills is that I have a boyfriend, we are sexually active and I do not want to get pregnant. [If it gets banned permanently,] one option would be to get an injection in another country when I travel but also my boyfriend would always use a condom.”

-China

**Just to get a clear picture on how bad it really is here in the Philippines, the same student nurse told me about the one time when she and her co-students were demonstrating how to properly use a condom to a local community. To demonstrate this, they used their thumb as the penis and used the condom accordingly. A few weeks later, they got a complain from a couple in the said community. They were upset that they have been using the condoms just to find out that the girlfriend was pregnant. The nurses later found out that they have been using condoms, except they were using them on their thumbs.

“I’ve been on oral contraceptives for the past 6 years, and every time I had to take a short break from them, all the symptoms that came with my PCOS (month long periods, irregular cycles, extremely painful cramps, acne, mood swings, insecurity, etc.) would start up again. As a Filipina, who is very dependent on birth control, to hear that there is a TRO on contraceptives is absolutely horrifying. It shouldn’t matter if a woman uses BC because she wants to have safe sex, or if someone like me needs to take BC to regulate her period and be able to do the simplest things and not have deal with the inconvenience and pain of irregular periods. 1 out of 5 women in the world have PCOS, and each one differs in symptoms, so I can only imagine how many women have worse symptoms than mine and really do need the pills just to be able to do regular things.”

-Maji

“Since we, my boyfriend and I, do not use condoms, I drink contraceptive pills as an alternative. We do not like using condoms because we feel less every time we do. I actually do not know [what I’m going to do about it]. Abstain, maybe? Or take extra precautions when it comes to having sex. It's going to be hard though. This is why I believe that the TRO is unnecessary. It's like taking hope away from people. We just want to be sexually free, you know?”

-AA

Ladies (and gentlemen), now is the time to act! Please make your voice heard, educate those around you, share the petition, and get our bodies back!

#birthcontrol #philippines #feminism #femenist #humanrights

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jelliehossvanadventure-blog · 7 years

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Hello friends, family, and everyone else! Welcome to this first post of the long-overdue blog of our van build, travels, and life!

For those who don’t know us personally, let us introduce ourselves. We are Jacob and Ellie (#jelliehoss on various social media), a duo from Portland, OR. We are currently living and traveling in our self-converted 1992 Chevy G20 ‘American Road’ edition camper van.

After spending a number of years dedicated to obtaining educations & credentials, building careers, and generally ‘adulting’ in the usual way, we had both arrived at an uncomfortable conclusion: we didn’t like it. We have college degrees, but you probably wouldn’t have known it by our salaries. Our combined student loan debt, an outrageous sum, was hanging over our heads and never far from our minds. After renting rooms and apartments for years in Portland’s worsening housing market, we found ourselves approaching 30 with nothing to show for our efforts. Like most of our peers, we’d never been anywhere close to buying a house, and it seemed increasingly less likely that we ever would. But something else was dawning on us too: maybe we didn’t want to own a house or the 35-year mortgage that went with it. We had never been traditional in any sense of the word, individually or as a couple. So it felt natural to both of us to start thinking creatively about our lifestyle choices and the future we wanted for ourselves.

So, in 2016, almost three years into our relationship, we decided that we wanted to get married. We wanted to create a unique life together and explore the many options available to us as a couple. We wanted to leave home, to adventure, to change all of the circumstances that were suffocating us in Portland.

Jacob had been living in his Chevy van (bought for $900 in 2013!) for about 1 ½ years already, and in a minivan for about a year before that. He had found various ways to make vanlife work around his job, friends & family, and even dating! He chose the van over renting for the sake of saving money more easily, and also for the freedom it afforded him. I had been renting a beautiful but painfully expensive studio apartment in downtown Portland for two years. It was been my first experience of living totally solo, and I loved everything about it but the price tag.

So Jacob and I were no strangers to vanlife when we decided to take this trip. Although I still had my apartment at the time, I enjoyed spending a night or two each week visiting him in the van, as well as weekends away from town. We had begun going on these mini-adventures at least once per month, over mountains, down unknown & unpaved forest roads, and along the coast all over Oregon and sometimes Washington too. In town, we had regular sleeping spots at two of Portland’s many city parks. We were always in good company: both parks were host to a burgeoning community of vandwellers of all walks of life, in vehicles ranging from sedans to fully converted school busses.

Our decision to get married took place on our way out to go camping for our birthday weekend (Jacob’s birthday is the day after mine) at the end of July. I mentioned that we’re not traditional - this was no grand proposal. We were on the floor in the back of the van, parked at a gas station after fueling up. In the middle of a sort of ‘State of Our Union’ discussion, Jacob looked at me and simply said, “Do you…want to get married?” My enthusiasm for the idea of marriage and my confident acceptance surprised even me! Until that moment, I had proudly described myself as “not the marrying type” for my entire life. Jacob had always felt the same way, until this conversation somehow changed both of our minds definitively.

We arrived in Port Townsend that evening high on life, love, and adventures to come. We strolled the sleepy town and sat together on the shore. We huddled over my phone, excitedly browsing unusual wedding bands online, knowing we were getting ahead of ourselves and not caring even a little. The next morning, my 27th birthday, we had our fingers sized in a cute little jewelry shop. Just before heading up into the mountains of Olympic National Park and out of cell phone service, we placed our order for the custom hand crafted wooden rings we had found & both loved instantly the night before. There was no going back now, the rings were paid for!

After shocking both of our families with the announcement upon our return from that trip, we got down to the business of planning our life together. We had both always wanted to travel, but there just hadn’t been the time or money. We loved to spend weekends in bed, scrolling through endless Instagram pictures of people in perfectly curated ‘trendy-rugged’ outfits, draping themselves artfully across the beds in their beautifully designed and meticulously clean vans, sipping steaming coffee from a metal coffee mug and casually taking in a stunning sunrise from a dramatic vista through the opened back doors. I loved and hated these pictures and these people. They not only had exactly everything that I wanted for myself, but with every photo they also perfectly articulated the feelings I only knew from my weekend escapes with Jacob. These pictures are largely intended to sell the vanlife/freedom fantasy to people trapped in offices where they make lots of money which can be spent on whatever brand of aluminum camping coffee mug that #vanlife girl was sipping from. Perhaps they can’t fathom actually escaping that daily grind, but they can own a piece of the dream.

Our camping birthday and engagement set off the next months of our life which saw us practically consumed by furious planning, sketching, research, and note taking. We gave up whole nights of sleep in favor of exciting, animated conversations about what the future held. We were possessed with hope and passion! Our dreams were suddenly within reach, and we were grabbing for them. It’s pretty clear now looking back on it that we were taking on heroic work loads. In addition to each of our full-time jobs (with opposite schedules at that!), we had set the date of our wedding, which we planned entirely without professional guidance, a mere two months out from our engagement! As if the endless and frantic wedding planning wasn’t enough, we also decided to upgrade Jacob’s bachelor van to better accommodate the two of us. We designed, innovated, installed, and built our custom van home in between crafting DIY wedding invites, searching for the perfect dress & suit, and piecing together a ceremony entirely unique to ourselves and our lives.

These wild months may sound insane, but the enormous projects that Jacob and I spent every spare moment working on together brought us incredibly close to one another. Under these adverse conditions, we quickly honed our communication style. Our tight timelines left no room for misunderstanding or errors, and within a few weeks it felt like we were reading each other’s minds. It’s a quirk of my personality that I thrive in extreme situations- they are challenging, exciting, and they remind me that I’m alive. It’s moderation that I find truly difficult to manage. So, throughout August and September of 2016, confronting situations of our own making which easily could have broken us, we found ourselves instead having more fun than ever, laughing loud and often, and seeing our partnership evolve into something deeper.

As cliché as it sounds, our wedding day was the most incredible day of my life. It was extremely important to us that we not needlessly waste money on throwing a lavish party with our van trip immediately to follow. Fortunately, this need to be frugal corresponded quite nicely with our shared belief in simplicity and sustainability and our general opinion that “traditional” weddings often tend to be wasteful, over the top, and centered around unnecessary consumerism, all of which can too easily obscure the actual purpose for the celebration and what is truly important and sacred about a wedding day. We agreed that all savings possible must be saved for our actual life together, and to that end, we would DIY anything possible, choose less expensive options, and accept help from our families (who were so generous with their resources and time). With these rules in mind, we were able to create a ceremony with a tiny budget that was perfect for us.

Jacob had set the van up as it worked for his single life: he slept in a sleeping bag diagonally across the existing back seat, folded flat. He had removed the middle seats and set up the simplest kitchen, a large cooler for food storage whose lid served also as a food preparation surface and sometimes as a seat. Clothing and other supplies were stored under the back seat in 6" tall flat plastic bins which had to be pulled out to open. He had installed a heavy wooden bedside table with two drawers, bolted to the side of the van behind the driver’s seat for secure storage of important documents and valuables. With the addition of a padlock on one drawer, this served its purpose well and provided an additional flat surface for a small table lamp, which was the only interior light. He had a curtain on a tensile rod behind the front seats with piece of dark (but not light blocking) fabric for privacy. He was using the blinds and original curtains on the windows, with the addition of sections of reflectix insulation cut to fit each window for both privacy and warmth. This setup worked well for him alone, and was alright for us in the short term, but was not ideal as we transitioned into a shared existence and our joint vanlife.

Our next post will be dedicated to the build from start to finish, but I want to touch on the most important elements we added to the van to make it suitable as our shared home.

We began our conversion with the bed. Even folded flat, it just wasn’t long enough for us to both sleep lengthwise. We replaced the existing cushion with plywood cut into 3 sections corresponding to the folding frame, adding length to each end. This gave us a full sized bed platform which can still fold up into a couch, and preserved the storage space underneath without having to build a heavy wooden bedframe.

We found an amazing 50% coupon at a local fabric shop and bought 5 yards of blackout fabric and replaced Jacob’s curtain separating the cab from our living space. We also removed the original curtains & blinds, and replaced them with custom black out curtains. Even with lights on at night, the van appears unoccupied, which is probably the most important element of ‘stealth’ needed for camping in town.

Our kitchen is made up of basic, prefab storage cabinets from Home Depot, one is a food pantry in which we have rearranged the shelving to allow for a small cooler on one side. Because we eat a majority plant-based diet, we don’t deal much with things that require refrigeration, so we make do with a very small cooler.

Directly behind the driver’s seat we installed a tiny 12"x15" cabinet that we made into a little pump sink with fresh water & waste water tanks.

Storage for our clothing and supplies is under the bed, accessed from both the front and back. We took meticulous measurements and managed to find plastic stackable clothing drawers. We each have 2 stacked drawers for clothing (17"x30"x6"). We have two much deeper drawers accessed from the rear of the van, for belongings we use less often. Additionally, there is a bin under the center of the bed for things we need to access only rarely.

One of the biggest challenges to address when constructing a tiny and mobile living space is power. We really don’t require much electricity on a day to day basis, but lighting the interior at night is an obvious consideration as well as keeping our devices charged. To this end, we chose the Goal Zero Yeti 400 power pack for power storage. The storage capacity of the Yeti is fairly small, but on an average day it’s enough to meet our fairly minimal power demands. We charge this battery both off of the engine while driving, or with our PowerFilm 60 watt foldable solar panel (it can be charged with a standard outlet as well, but we rarely do this on the road). The Yeti runs our two overhead lights, both highly efficient and tiny GoalZero lamps, and keeps our phones charged.

Over the course of the trip, we’ve made changes and adjustments as we learn what we really need and what we don’t. I’ve made multiple trips to clothing donation bins as the weather and our latitude have changed. I finally admitted to having brought far too many clothes. The simple adaptability is the beauty of having an easily customizable living space!

As we continue posting here, we will write about our route, places visited, and what we got up to in each place. We will also speak more broadly on subjects including: how everyday real van life differs from the glamorous social media version. We'll write posts on things we’re learning about ourselves and our evolving philosophies as well as the numerous lessons taught to us by this incredible experience.

We invite you to join us on this journey and we hope you enjoy our blog!

-EH

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