#i reserve the right to be disagreed with its just my assessment

[linzer-art]

Baldurs Gate 3 characters as Sleeping at Last Enneagram songs

Astarion: Six

Shadowheart: Eight

Karlach: Seven

Gale: Nine

Wyll: Three

Lae'Zel: One

[ladysternchen]

Headcanon explained/character study- Elu Thingol, part 1

Alright, MY elf at last (this is going to be long. Very long). First things first though, I know that he’s considered a controversial character, and many don’t like him, which is fine, I’m not trying to convince anyone to change their mind. I always read him the way I’ll describe/base my headcanon/fics on, knowing that many disagree. I neither can nor want to judge who’s right. I’m just saying that I do not agree with fanon here, I don’t see him as a racist, prideful idiot who mistakes possessiveness for love and who’s ultimate downfall is his greed and his not listening to his wife. (Just no. So if that’s your opinion of him, this post is not for you. It’ll just annoy you and I do NOT want to annoy anyone.) Oh, and maybe second things second, I’ll probably answer the question of why Elu is my elf, why I identify more with him than with any other fictional (or real) character (in any book I’ve ever read, or movie I’ve ever watched): I just know that feeling so well of trying to do it right, and still failing in the worst possible way. I can relate to one’s mistakes somehow always weighing more heavily than others’. I can also relate to not belonging anywhere, and -frankly- to change being one’s arch-enemy. He is my brother at heart, the to whom I flee in my imagination when reality is just too freaking much. Am I mad? Hm, yeah, perhaps. That doesn’t bother me one bit, though. But enough waffling, on to the headcanon. Elwë was born by the waters of Cuiviénen as the last prince of the Nelyar that was descended in the firstborn-son-to-firstborn-son-line from Enel and Enelyë (though nobody knew it then, obviously. Tata’s line was broken with Maedhros dying childless, Imin’s probably still continues, but certainly did until Ingwion). He was a quiet, shy child, but once he warmed up a bit, he would eagerly join the games of the other children, would sing and dance just like everyone else, so his being rather withdrawn bothered nobody, and once Olwë was born and he the big brother, that shyness vanished entirely. From birth on, his cousin Nowë (I headcanon Círdan’s father to be the brother of Elwë’s mother, though canon of course does not specify ‘close kin’) was his friend and his protector -Nowë took great pleasure in being the older and wiser one and have his little cousin toddle after him and look up at him in utter admiration. Their friendship would persist throughout times, as would their roles in it. To Elwë, Círdan would always be the advisor, and to Círdan, Elwë would ever somehow remain the little elfling that sat beside him by the water’s edge, trying to catch the stars that were reflected in the smooth surface of the lake instead of the boats crafted from bark and leaves that Nowë had made for his amusement. Nowë was mildly annoyed by that back then, but he did get his eager disciple when Olwë was born, while Elwë had by then befriended Finwë as well. Those two soon became inseparable and -frankly- unstoppable. Finwë’s and Elwë’s relationship might be worth a post of its own, so I won’t go too deeply into this now, but they were each other’s perfect counterparts. Where Finwë was reckless and too quick to judge, Elwë was the more considerate, the one to reserve judgement until he could truly assess the situation. And where Elwë was unwilling to move even a quarter of an inch out of his comfort-zone and would keep to himself rather than face his insecurities and engage with others, Finwë encouraged him and kindled his curiosity. They often lay, hands firmly entwined, and swore that they would never abandon the other, that they would always stay together. Where you go, I go. They were both perfectionists to a fault, Finwë in his crafting, Elwë in living up to responsibilities, but soon, and for reasons truly known to nobody, those two had built themselves up a following consisting of all the children of the Tatyar and the Nelyar, or at least those that didn’t prefer to join Nowë and Olwë in their exploring of boat-crafting. They would get themselves into all sorts of adventures, and be loved and admired by the younger children. There was only one incident during the year of his childhood that Elwë did not particularly like to be reminded of (and still ironically was constantly reminded of, at least for the rest of his life in Middle-Earth), and that was his infamous fall into the lake, that had resulted in his uncle -Nowë’s father- to fish him out and, chuckling, wrap him up in his cloak. Tall and lanky as Elwë had always been, he still was very much a child then, and the mantle covered him head to toe (which he was quite glad about then, because the hood hid the tears of humiliation that ran down his face), which lead to Nowë calling him teasingly ‘Greycloak’- a name that stuck with him, and that, in the course of the following millennia, he came to love and hate in equal measure.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Always Beautiful (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart, book 1 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 950 Warning: Brief language and a slightly jealous Dr. Dumbass Premise: After a long shift, she feels less than appealing. Ethan thinks she’s still beautiful, but someone else tells her as much before he can. 

Note: Thank you @peonierose​​ for the beautiful prompt! 

“Come on, Lil! Get in here!”

Ethan passes the staff lounge in time to see Lahela, crouching down ridiculously in front of a gaggle of interns, all displaying ridiculous poses. His arm is outstretched, holding a cellphone aloft. He beckons to someone by the fridge, urging them to get in the shot.

“I don't look camera ready at all,” Lilac protests.

Lahela waives a dismissive hand. “You look great for a ten hour shift.”

“Ouch,” Varma says from the crowd. “That just means you look less like shit than the rest of us.”

The group dissolves into a cacophony of debate. It promptly ends when Trinh breaks away from the group and pulls Lilac by the arm. Before she can protest, Lahela repositions the phone in front of them.

From where he stands, he can see Lilac self-consciously adjusting her high ponytail right before the surgeon snaps the picture.

"Delete that,” Lilac laughs when she studies the screen soon after. “I look hideous, like I haven't slept in days!”

Ethan shifts on his feet, opening his mouth as though to argue. He remembers he's outside the staff lounge and doing so would attract curious, maybe even alarmed looks. Pressing his lips together, he flips a page on the patient record he holds to maintain the illusion that he's studying a chart and not longing for one of his interns.

“You look great, Lilac,” an quiet but admiring voice says from the fray.

Ethan glances up and identifies the speaker as a tall, handsome, bespectacled intern whose name he cannot remember. He's not one of the interns that typically hangs out with Lilac, but Ethan has seen him hovering around her before. Irritated, he wonders if he always has that idiotic, bewitched look his face or if he just reserves that for her.

Lilac's pager interrupts any response. With a hasty goodbye, she exits the room, completely missing Ethan in her haste. Much to Ethan's dismay, he catches the way the bespectacled intern follows her with his gaze.

Later, he's in a desolate conference room with Lilac sifting through a mountain of patient files. The vast space is ideal during the evening shift since anyone rarely uses it for its intended purpose. Over the past few weeks, it had served as their preferred workspace.

“What?” she asks when she catches him staring.

Ethan had been too preoccupied studying the delicate planes of her face. It's true that after over twelve hours of hard labor, she looks pale and exhausted. However, Ethan thoroughly disagrees with her assessment that she looks “hideous.”

“I didn't know you wore glasses,” he says instead.

She pushes them higher on the bridge of her nose. “I only wear them for paperwork or when my head starts hurting.”

“They suit you.”

The simple compliment startles her.

“You look—”

There's a knock at the door.

“Oh!”

It's Spectacles from earlier, looking taken aback to see Ethan. “Sorry, Dr. Ramsey. I was looking for Dr. Allende. I always see her in here at this time so I thought—”

Ethan doesn't reply, privately enjoying watching the intern stumble over his words.

“She's here. But she's busy completing her work, which is more than can be said for you.”

The intern nods, alarmed by the truth in Ethan's words. Before he turns on his heel, he brandishes a piece of paper from his pocket. Unsure of what else to do, he holds it out to Ethan.

“Could you give her this?”

By the time Ethan finishes reading three words scribbled there, Spectacles has wisely disappeared.

“Who was it?”

“An admirer of yours.”

Lilac glances up from her work at breakneck speed. “Who?”

“Tall, dark hair, glasses.”

“That sounds like Ben.”

“You should tell Ben that I'm not his messenger or mail carrier.”

At her confused frown, he sets the note in front of her. Lilac reads it and blushes in a way he would have found endearing in any other situation. Ethan glances at the three words, clearly shining in black ink from where he stands:

You're always beautiful.

“That was… nice of him,” Lilac comments when the silence has stretched for too long.

Ethan scoffs.

“He's a great guy for doing this,” she continues.

“For abandoning his duties to interrupt your own?”

“No, for taking the time to write this.”

She waves the note in front of him, as though the damn thing wasn't already impossible to ignore.

“Let's not praise him for stating the obvious, Rookie,” Ethan returns dryly. “It doesn't take a genius to make that assessment.”

By the time he meets her eye again, Lilac has gone very still, her expression set into one of stunned surprise.

“What?” he asks.

His pager interrupts any reply. Ethan glances down at it and sighs. “I trust you can finish this on your own?”

Strangely, Lilac is still frozen in slight shock. A small nod is her reply when she recovers enough. When Ethan exits the conference room, he is just as befuddled as she is for the strange and inexplicable reaction.

It isn't until he's in the elevator, on his way to the sixth floor, that his own words catch up to him.

“Let's not praise him for stating the obvious, Rookie. It doesn't take a genius to make that assessment.”

The obvious.

The fact that Lilac Allende is the most beautiful person Ethan has ever beheld has always been obvious to him. Lilac, however, had no idea Ethan thought messy ponytails and undereye bags had little effect on how stunning she was, so hearing him proclaim it so casually would have definitely been a shock. God, could he have been more of a careless idiot? He might as well have confessed how she's the only thing that occupies his mind on most days.

With teeth grit tightly, Ethan presses his hand to his forehead.

“Damn it.”

Note: Thank you so much for reading!

[ahtsumu]

LOVE PERSEVERING, EP 1. “The Plot Twist”

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

synopsis: the nanami’s have an evening full of surprises – the most surprising of all, however, is the one that comes without explanation.

tag(s): loose (very loose) wandavision!au, humor, domestic fluff, suggestive content, profanity, can be read as a standalone! ; wc: 2.6k

love persevering m.list

“SORRY I’M LATE.”

Nanami Kento closes the front door behind him and changes out of his oxfords for house slippers. The traffic was crazy, there’d been an accident on the 101, a Maserati collided with a Ferrari and the two drivers were hashing it out in the middle of – no, that’s a horrible story and even worse lie. He doesn’t even drive to work. He takes the Caltrain to his job in San Francisco every morning and takes it home to Sunnyvale every evening.

Shit, Nanami thinks as he tries to hide the evidence of his… offense. Can he cover it up with something? Maybe if he held his briefcase in front of it… No, that’s so obvious. It’s so… red. And big. There’s no way it’d stay concealed.

It’s not that Nanami is in any way dumb or easily frazzled. No, he’s quite intelligent and levelheaded and the fact that he works as an Associate at Goldman Sachs should be proof enough. It’s just that he strongly dislikes the thought of lying to you. Technically, he doesn’t even have to make up a story to explain his tardiness. You probably don’t really care that he’s – Nanami checks his watch while setting his briefcase down – an hour late home. But having a story would quell your suspicions about the true reason he’s late.

See, today his co-worker Archie was talking on and on about how he surprised his wife with a bouquet of fifty roses the other night and, well, Nanami felt inspired. He’s not typically one for large romantic gestures, so he thought that maybe he should step up his game and at least remind you of how much he loves you the one day he’s given a sign to.

“First, you gotta lower her expectations, y’know?” Archie says like he’s giving a pitch. “Make her think the conversation is gonna be far from romantic. Say something totally boring. ‘Hey, honey, I had a great day at work today.’ Somethin’ like that, y’know? Then you just whip it right out. Bam.”

Nanami looks at the pink peonies in his hand with a small smile. Happy marriage, the flower shop attendee had said. Hearing your footsteps leading out from the second-floor bedroom, he quickly places the red bouquet behind the living room sofa before rushing back to his original place by the door. At first sight of your figure descending the stairs, Nanami starts (perhaps too exaggeratedly) loosening his tie.

“Ken.”

Oh. Oh, this doesn’t sound too good. Pausing his movements, Nanami assesses the damage. Your arms are crossed over your chest and your head is slightly cocked to the side, and you’re shooting him an expectant look. To be frank, you look a little pissed. You’re not even smiling. This definitely isn’t too great.

“Honey,” he starts, flashing you a conciliatory smile.

“Did you know that we were supposed to leave for our reservation an hour ago?” you interrupt.

Reservation? It doesn’t ring a bell.

Oh, is that why… fuck.

Taking your husband’s silence as evidence that he’d forgotten, you let out a sigh and walk up to his frozen frame, stopping when you’re right under his nose. “Did you?”

Nanami looks up at the ceiling as he tries to recall anything about reservations, but his mind turns blank. Actually, he thinks as he furrows his brows, he can’t even remember what he did yesterday.

“No,” he admits truthfully, looking into your eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m really sorry but I don’t remember at all. Listen, I –”

And then, you laugh.

“I was just messin’ with you, babe.” Still giggling, you pull him in for a hug. “The reservation’s not today.”

Nanami blinks as his arms wrap around you. There’s no reservation. “You’re ridiculous,” he chuckles. “I genuinely thought that I’d done something wrong.”

“No, definitely not. You’re wonderful.” Lifting your heels off the floor, you capture Nanami’s lips in a short kiss. He eagerly responds, pulling you closer into his firm body. This is, without a doubt, Nanami’s favorite part about coming home. You. Always there, at the end of the day, with your sunny little grin and sweet, adoring eyes. A little piece of paradise.

“You are so much trouble,” he murmurs as you pull apart. You hum at that, unable to disagree.

“We do, however, have a reservation at eight tomorrow.”

He frowns. “I genuinely don’t remember making plans for that, darling, I’m sorry.” Nanami glances down at your face and notices your surprised expression.

“Me neither. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me something about that.”

Well, that’s odd. It’s not often that either of you forgets anything, let alone something as easily remembered as a dinner reservation. It’s utterly peculiar that you would both happen to forget about the same thing. Today’s turning out a lot stranger than he’d ever expected. “How’d you find out?”

You pull your phone out of your back pocket and show him the email confirmation.

Dear Mr and Mrs. Nanami,

Thank you for making a reservation with us at Gary Danko. As a reminder, your reservation is for two people at 8:00 PM this Friday.

If you have any questions concerning your reservation, please feel free to contact us. We look forward to serving you!

Thank you,

The Gary Danko Team

“This is… strange,” Nanami notes, studying the little screen.

“Very,” you agree.

“Should we cancel?”

“Should we?”

“I –”  Nanami’s stomach grumbles, putting a pause on your conversation.

With a chuckle, you slide your phone back into your pocket. “Never mind. We can talk about it during dinner,” you say, helping your husband out of his suit jacket. As the blazer comes off, you affectionately rub a few circles on his back, feeling his posture relax under your touch. Honestly, he works too hard. You always tell him this but he really should take a few days off and drive down to the beach – maybe with you, if he’d like – and forget about the world for a while. God knows he could use the rest.

Nanami hums in approval. “You go on first.” He kisses your forehead before gesturing at the briefcase on the floor. “I should put this away.”

The moment you disappear into the dining room, Nanami moves his briefcase onto the coffee table and brings the bouquet of pink peonies out from their place behind the sofa, this time holding them behind his back. A reservation neither of us remembers, he suddenly thinks as he strolls quietly towards the dining room. Truly odd. Tucking the thought away in his mind (there’s always time to figure out mysteries like these), Nanami calls out, “Actually, honey, there’s a reason why I came home late today.”

“I was just about to ask. What was it?” You’re almost done setting the table when Nanami walks through the archway with a bouquet of flowers almost as broad as his shoulders.

“Holy shit.”

He laughs, filling the room with its bell-like sound. “For the lady.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you walk over and take the bouquet from his arms, cradling it like a baby. Each petal is fresh and alive and so vibrantly pink. It’s obvious that a lot of care went into this bouquet, and it only touches you further that your husband went to such lengths to guarantee you’d only get the best flowers possible. “Thank you, darling. What’s the special occasion?”

“No occasion,” Nanami says, shrugging. “Just that I love you. And I wanted to remind you that, even on days where nothing happens and it feels like we’re just going through the motions –” he takes your free hand and hunches over to kiss the ring on your fourth finger “– knowing I get to share every day with you gives me joy to look forward to.”

Happy marriage. It’s true and that’s all there is to say about it.

You’re unable to form words. Nanami Kento, the subtle, quiet lover, being loud with affection for once. An indescribable warmth spreads all throughout your body. “Ken…” Tears prick at your eyes as you set the bouquet down on the table and rush into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. “I love you,” you murmur in his ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you. Thank you.”

Nanami grins, cradling your face in his large palms. “I should do this more often,” he says, letting out a breathy chuckle when you nod instantly. “I’m sorry. I’ll work on – ” You cut him off with a slow but eager kiss, snaking your arms around his neck and tugging him closer to deepen it. If Nanami had been surprised by your interruption he doesn’t show it – his lips, soft and plump, move in complete synchronization with yours. He tastes like tea and honey and he smells like he always does, of wood and spice and the beach. It’s intoxicating and completely dangerous how irresistible he is and you can’t get enough of him.

The truth is, every real kiss with Nanami feels like the first. And you can never get enough. But you are running out of air, so you break the kiss first and rest your forehead against his, feeling his hot breath fan across your cheeks.

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, stroking his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “I wouldn’t want anyone else as my husband.”

Nanami quirks one corner of his mouth up and covers your hand with his, turning his head to kiss its palm. “If I had another life to live after this one, I’d marry you in that one, too.”

A prolonged growl from Nanami’s stomach interrupts your sweet moment.

“I think your stomach objects.”

“Maybe we should shove something down it, like dinner.”

Grinning, you slip out of your husband’s reach and beckon him to follow you into the kitchen.

“This salmon is delicious,” Nanami remarks, taking another bite off his fork.

“Thank you,” you beam. “I found a recipe while I was at work today and thought I’d try it out. Honey garlic salmon. My life is forever changed and so is yours, by extension. You’re welcome.”

Nanami chuckles, ready to respond with a dry comment about ‘having no choice,’ but then that odd email you’d shown him earlier resurfaces in his mind. “Speaking of changes. Should we cancel that Gary Danko reservation?”

You hum, thinking back to the letter as you chew. It seems like the most logical thing to do. After all, neither of you remembers making the reservation. The ambiguity surrounding its existence is unsettling enough to warrant cancellation, but something in you just wants to see what might happen. Swallowing your food, you say, “Don’t you think it’s strange that it has our names on it? I think we should consider going.”

“What if it’s a scam?”

“Then we go home, order Indian takeout, and watch a war documentary until we both fall asleep.”

Unconvinced, Nanami sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, the navy fabric of his button-up tightening around his muscles. “We should call them first, figure out if they know anything.”

“You’re right,” you say, and then you pause before adding, “And if they don’t?”

You’re done speaking but Nanami knows that sentence isn’t finished, and that the other unspoken half is: can we still go? The truth is – and he’s told you many times – that your unpredictability is the most predictable thing about you. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, eyes darting across your face as he contemplates his answer.

It’s not that Nanami is an overprotective husband or needlessly suspicious of every odd thing in life. It’s that he somehow cannot remember a single second of his life before today, the same day this email arrived. To be more accurate, he feels like he has those memories inside him. Somewhere, deep in his brain, he vaguely remembers what things like a “fifth birthday” or “first wedding anniversary” look like. They just feel out-of-reach. Regardless, he’s absolutely certain that things aren’t exactly right. But you look so excited and utterly unaware of his predicament, so it must be something only he’s experiencing and he doesn’t want to burden you with this problem.

“If you really want to go, then we’ll go,” Nanami concludes, taking a sip of his wine. “After all, the wife…”

“… is always right,” you finish for him. “Well, sometimes the husband is, too, but in this specific context, for unspecified reasons, the wife is most definitely correct.” The grin on your face almost puts his worries to rest.

(Almost.)

You call Gary Danko after dinner and they confirm your reservation.

“Sorry if this sounds, um, weird, but would you mind reminding me when we made this reservation?” you ask, walking in circles around the kitchen.

“Not at all!” Some typing noises travel through the receiver before the man you were talking to says, “Actually, you didn’t make the reservation.”

You make eye contact with Nanami who’s lightly rinsing the plates from dinner. “Pardon?”

“No, it was a Miss Amanda Priestly who called us and reserved the table for you two days ago on October 31st. Does that name sound familiar?”

Nanami raises his brows. That’s your boss.

“Um, yeah. I know her, thank you,” you say, frowning. What on earth is your boss doing reserving tables at Michelin-rated restaurants for you and your husband?

“She left a message, too, in case you were, quote, ‘confused,’ unquote. She says, ‘Mimsy, thank you for your help on the Modish Winter look book. Dinner is on me. Kisses, AP.’”

And suddenly, everything falls into place. All those late nights you spent analyzing old trends and predicting the next season’s rush into your memory. For a month, you pretty much lived in your office down the hall from your editor-in-chief. You barely even had time to sleep. It makes sense that Amanda would show her thanks for the effort you put into the project, but you hadn’t expected her to. After all, she’s Amanda Priestly. She still calls you Mimsy instead of your real name.

“Oh, of course!” you laugh, looking over at Nanami. He sends you a curious look before putting the rinsed plates into the dishwasher. “Thank you for your help.”

“My pleasure.”

The call ends and you tuck your phone in your pocket as you say, “Mystery solved.”

“Hmm,” Nanami says, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. “The Modish Winter Look Book. For some reason, I don’t remember you working on that.” In fact, he doesn’t remember you working at a magazine company at all, although he can’t put his finger on what job he used to think you had. What is going on?

“Really?” you ask, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers together. “You don’t remember that time I ran into our office with four different tweed blazers and asked which one looked the most wintery?”

Nanami furrows his brows as a memory comes back to him. It was a sunny morning in early November when you ran into the home office with two blazers draped over each arm and forced him to rank them based on how well they exuded “winter energy.” Truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing, just that the one with more blue seemed most appropriate for wintertime.

“I just remembered,” he says, a look of amused confusion coming over his features. Today has been so strange. “Did the blue blazer make it to the final look?”

“One moment,” you say, disappearing into the living room and returning with an advanced, rough copy of Modish’s Winter Fashion Edition. “It’s not out yet, but…” you trail off as you flip through the pages, pointing when you get to the one you were looking for “… here’s your contribution to the magazine.”

The blue blazer, in all its glory, smack dab in the middle of the section that says “TRENDS TO SAY GOODBYE TO.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, you predicted something,” you giggle, placing a hand on his chest. “Fashion might be your calling, Ken.”

He smiles wryly. “I’m hanging up.”

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Fleurdora/Delatonks | Nymphadora Tonks x Fleur Delacour

Requested by @halfthealphabet

The Order slowly trails into Grimmauld Place, one by one, all with the air of people living through a zombie apocalypse. Grim, weary expressions on every face.

Molly's bustling around as soon as she lays eyes on them, ushering them into the living room where the fire spreads a pleasant warmth into their bones. They certainly need it. Duelling a group of rogue Death Eaters is not exactly what any of them wanted to be doing at three in the morning, in the pouring rain.

Tonks is practically slumped as they join them, Fleur walking in beside them with Fred and Sirius somewhere behind.

"Damn fanatics," Moody growls, taking his frozen eye from its socket, motionless when it should be spinning.

"You'd think they'd have a bit of common sense considering their dark lord has been well and truly dead for a good year now," says George, flinging himself onto one of the crimson armchairs.

All of the old dark green ones (and pretty much everything that represented Slytherin, really) were thrown out by Sirius after the battle at the Ministry. Decided that if he was going to come that close to death at the hands of his own family again, he wasn't going to be stuck surrounded by constant reminders of them. Tonks happily helped him replace everything, since he needed someone who could actually leave the house. The tapestry is still proving to be a bit of a pain, but they've managed to rework it a bit, so it highlights the "disowned" and excluded members and has a majority of the blood-purists replaced with far more worthy members of the family they've created for themselves, or simply burned off instead.

Tonks shrugs their denim jacket off as Bill agrees. He looks the most tired out of them all, aside from Remus. He's not a full werewolf, but the full moon being only days away still seems to affect him almost exactly the same as it does for Remus, who becomes irritable and drained.

"They seem to think, he was "resurrected" to power once before, they can make it happen again," Bill says, shaking his head as he gingerly pulls his sleeve back to inspect the large patch of blood soaking through from a relatively deep cut; the work of a nasty jinx. "Too scared to desert after last time, in case he pops back up again and they land themselves on his bad side."

"They are idiotic," Fleur fumes. Her blouse has been severly singed around the collar and Tonks can't help but worry at a glimpse of blistering skin beneath it.

"Did you manage to get all of them?" Harry asks. "Anyone get away?"

Tonks had barely noticed he was there at all. He was just quietly watching in concern from a chair in the far right corner of the room, with Hermione in the one beside him next to the fire and Ron and Ginny between them, planted cross-legged on the floor. They seem like they were trying to keep Mrs Weasley distracted while the rest of them were out; now that Mr Weasley is back, her attention is fully captured, worrying over the cuts lining his face but with subtle relief shining in her eyes.

"Nearly," Sirius answers, with an undertone of bitterness as he adds, "One disapparated before we could get the bastard. Right after leaving me with this lovely little gift."

He grabs the collar of his shirt that's just as torn and burned and stained with blood as the rest of theirs, and yanks it down at the left to reveal a deep, long gash running right across his collarbone, stopping somewhere down his chest. It's not bleeding, but smoking. And it’s dark green rather than red.

There's an outburst of disgusted noises as well as gasps and a couple of cries.

"You git!" Tonks chides him, slapping his good arm lightly. "You never said they got you!”

"I didn't—you're—“ Sirius tries to say, sounding indignant, but he can't seem to find a good comeback.

Mrs Weasley's attention is immediately focused on him, pushing him towards the door into the kitchen before anyone can ask any further questions so that she can fix it up, something apparently too gruesome for any of them to bear witness.

"We'll catch him, don't worry," Bill says. The statement and the gentle smile seem to be aimed towards the kids. Having been advised to stay out of Order missions for the time being, to readjust and make up for their missed exams, they still look anxious, like they're going to be called up to fight at any moment.

But they seem to take some comfort in Bill's words. Everyone does; reassurances don't seem so false anymore now that missions like these are less common and haven't resulted in a fatal injury or even death since the Battle.

As the others fill Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in on what happened, able to joke a little more now that they're here and winding down from the fight, Tonks catches Fleur trying to assess the damage beneath her shirt as discreetly as possible.

Tonks moves over to her, gently catching her elbow and motioning her head to the door that Mrs Weasley and Sirius left through. They both leave the others in the room to head out into the hallway, where there is thankfully no longer the constant risk of setting off Walburga's shrieking portrait; took a while to find the right spells to remove it, but they managed in the end.

"Are you okay?'" Tonks asks, referencing the wound. "I didn't realize they'd got you. What did they hit you with?"

"I'm not sure," Fleur admits, but she's able to pull the corner of her shirt down better to get a proper look now that she's away from the rest of the Order. She winces, peeling the fabric from the wound, which sticks to it.

It comes away enough to reveal a marred patch of skin below her collarbone and spreading down far enough that it seems to have knocked the spell she usually has on right off.

"I thought something didn't feel right," Fleur says, and winces again when she lightly presses her fingers an inch from the area to test it.

Tonks grimaces in sympathy and only just manages to keep their hands away, having been instinctively going to reach out and offer some form of comfort that would probably only result in making it worse.

“Looks like a simple jinx,” says Tonks, “maybe even just a hastily fired Incendio. Seen a few people panic in duels before, just fire off the first thing that comes to mind. Luckily, it must have bounced off the spell already on you, else could it have been a lot worse than just burning your shirt and, well, this.”

Fleur agrees. “I am beginning to think I need a more permanent solution that that spell, though. It’s not exactly the most reliable, and, truthfully, I’ve never exactly been the best at Transfiguration.”

Tonks grins, pulling out their wand. “Ah, well, it’s not an essential subject.”

“Says the one who can change everything about their appearance at will,” Fleur retorts, but there’s a flicker of a smile on her face.

“True,” Tonks says, as Fleur carefully peels back a little more of her shirt. “But the mediwizards at St. Mungo’s do a pretty good job, too. I have a friend there, particularly skilled in more permanent solutions for trans wizards and witches, like I mentioned, if you wanted to give that another thought? Right, this counter spell.”

Fleur gives another grimace as Tonks points their wand a couple of inches from the wound. She steels herself though, pressing her lips into a line.

With the, thankfully right, incantation and wave of their wand, a small cloud of pale yellow settles over the burned skin. It clings around it for a moment long enough for Fleur to hiss slightly, then it sinks in and a new layer of skin forms over the top until it’s smooth.

Fleur lightly touches her skin, testing for any sign of pain. None seems to come. Her expression settles as she sighs, then a smile is back on her face.

“Thank you,” she says, lifting her eyes to Tonks.

“‘Course,” Tonks says, grin widening with a wink. “I’m your assigned Order partner, remember? I should have been covering you in the first place, especially as I’m also you’re... well, out of Order partner. There has to be a better way to say that.”

Fleur says nothing, just gazing fondly at them, her eyes twinkling. She lays a hand on Tonks’ arm and says, “I can look after myself. But I appreciate this. And the offer. I think I’m ready to take you up on it.”

Tonks smiles and nods. “Okay. Tomorrow, we can stop by, my friend should be in then. You wanna head home the now—“

At that moment, George pops his head around the corner, looks left down the corridor, then right.

“We’re crashing here. More rooms and all that,” George explains. “You two staying as well, or are we getting more coffee and Mum’s breakfast buffet to ourselves?”

Tonks scoffs immediately, then glances at Fleur, who rolls her eyes but nods in a silent confirmation. Turning back to George, Tonks says, “We’ll stay as well. I’m sure Sirius would say the more the merrier, right?”

Fleur makes a little noise, as if disagreeing, and George snorts. But they all make their way back in to join the rest of them, and Sirius and Mrs Weasley return shortly after, though with Sirius looking considerably paler and prodding at the now thin line standing out on his chest every few seconds then wincing. He doesn’t, in fact, mind some of them staying.

They remain in the living room for another hour or so, until the exhaustion kicks back in (or more accurately, when Ginny falls asleep and accidentally kicks an also sleeping Fred in the shin). Then they slowly split off to claim a guest room or head home. Tonks and Fleur takes the room reserved for Tonks’ visits, and are out cold within ten minutes.

[dishwater-blondie]

On Gabenath and the Fandom Divide

So this is gonna be a little different. 

You know, I wonder if fandom culture is a lot like literature, in which there is no single right way to engage with it, but there are certainly a few wrong ways.

I have been active in very few fandoms throughout my life, and I would even say that when it comes to ML and Gabenath, I confine myself to a very small and specific corner. I am very shy. I get easily overwhelmed. All I am here to do is write some fan fiction and hopefully find folks who enjoy it. Being reclusive has meant that I haven’t engaged much with a lot of other fans, and certainly not with very many early Gabenath shippers. 

My lack of experience with fandom culture is something I partially regret, because I have built up resentment for this particular section of the Gabenath fan base and have been led to draw conclusions about their views on certain characters and relationships; however, many of them have done the same to newer fans like myself, failing to acknowledge our understandings, our intentions, and our reasons for enjoying Gabenath in the first place. 

Anyone who follows this blog knows where I come from. I’m a young woman who likes to take this silly show very seriously sometimes, but there’s an element of good fun that comes with looking very deeply into things, don’t you think? I would find myself awfully bored if I consumed all content passively, casually, if I let it wash over me and never tried to analyze why I’m finding myself so intrigued. I like to get to the bottom of things. Maybe that’s in my nature as a writer. 

I don’t expect everyone to agree with me. After all, Gabenath shippers take up a pretty humble space in the ML fandom as a whole, especially those who are not as invested in the lovesquare as the majority of watchers are. There will always be those who don’t believe Gabriel or Nathalie deserve the possibility of a happy ending, and those who would like to see it, but cannot envision the show taking the necessary steps to get there. Regardless, anyone who has taken the time to read my analysis posts can see that I don’t pull any of this out of nowhere. I delve into the details the show itself has provided, and I reach my own conclusions. I don’t believe that any “serious” post I’ve made has been baseless. 

That is what’s so frustrating about the divide between older fans of the ship and newer ones. Early Gabenath fans of Season 1 and early Season 2 had a blank slate to work with in developing the dynamic between Nathalie and Gabriel. The newer ones that have flooded in post-Season 2, like myself, are doing so in reaction to the actual events of the show, the established and ongoing portrayal of a relationship that is only continuing to evolve. I have witnessed and attempted to engage in situations between older and newer fans where the older fans have dismissed developments of the most recent episodes in favor of the early characterizations of the first season. 

To pause, I don’t want to generalize here. Not all early Gabenath shippers are like this, of course, just like not all newer fans are like me. We are all coming from different places and enjoying this ship from different angles. There’s nothing wrong with that. 

But it confuses me. I’ve now been made aware of multiple occasions where older fans have shut down some of the newer beliefs that have arisen in the fandom as of late, such as the notion that (and I flinch to speak so controversially) Gabriel could get a redemption and Emilie may come out of all of this being the villain in the end. There’s nothing at all inherently wrong with not wanting or anticipating this to be the outcome. We’re all here for fun. Watch and think the way you choose. But when it comes to engaging with fans who have, like myself, presented actual evidence supporting our own interpretations, I find it insulting to be told that the playful terms “pull the plug” or “Fuck Emilie Juice” are disrespectful, as if they encompass my assessments, as if I have ever genuinely hated this character.

First, I must ask, what character? Emilie, as of now, is a plot device. A symbol at best. She’s spoken not one word. But second, it is awfully unfair and patronizing to assume that newer fans who think of Emilie as a villain or hope for a Gabriel redemption are engaging with these concepts mindlessly. From what I’ve seen, dismissals of conversations about the possibility of redemption, the stakes of the Gabenath relationship, or wouldn’t-it-be-cool-if-Emilie-was-at-the-heart-of-this-agenda have been presumptuous rejections of newer fandom ideas, and by extension, the people who have introduced and explored them, particularly because they haven’t been given the time of day. 

It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? We sure do like to criticize this show for being so stagnant. Yet, in the space of just three seasons, this considerable divide has formed between the older and newer Gabenath shippers. The lovesquare drama has always been the same, for the most part. Fans argue about which of the square’s dynamics is best, argue about how Luka and Kagami fit into this, but until there is any game-changing development, I can’t imagine that there will be this particular brand of divisiveness, between early fans who prefer the first season and the newer ones who emerged once things started to get complicated.

What matters is the way we engage with each other. I don’t intend to imply that either type of fan is better. Newer shippers are not all perfect either. Due to the events of Season 3, I think some of us have a morbid fascination with Nathalie’s suffering and insist on putting her through the worst situations possible. I admit to being guilty of this, and I aim to tackle these issues with as much grace and tact as I can. I don’t want my writing to exist for the purpose of shock value.

But I digress - my point here is not that I’m going to demand people agree with my personal impressions of these characters or relationships, but rather that when we do in fact disagree, we at least can reach a full understanding of where other shippers are coming from. Early fans have conceived their own versions of Gabenath, being given total liberty by the lack information we were provided in the earlier seasons, and these are perfectly valid. They’re entertaining. They’re fun to look back on and play around with now. But I’ve witnessed the opinions of newer fans being looked down upon as if they were senseless examples of character hate, when in reality they are grounded in the evolution of the narrative and speculation on its thematic objectives. From the way I’ve experienced things, this isn’t being acknowledged, and I want to see that change. 

This may have all come out of no where. I’m fortunate enough to have never been directly shut down, and that’s purely thanks to my reserved nature. But it hurts to see newer fans, my friends feel unwelcome in the fandom when they just got here. When they have so much to offer. When all they wanted was to create and have fun and establish themselves. 

So, yeah, this is my Fuck Emilie tirade, ‘Fuck Emilie’, of course, referring to my want for my friends to express these meta topics in either an analytical or comical manner without having to worry about the preceding trends, without having to feel spurned by other fans who haven’t even tried to bridge the gap. Sorry, Emilie, girl. It ain’t personal. 

And hey, if I’m wrong about Gabenath, if I’m wrong about Emilie, and redemption, and the show in its entirety, then I’ll eat my words. And it won’t matter, because this is a sparkly TV show for children and everything I have said on it in the past has been in the spirit of enjoying it. 

Raise your glass. 

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 109 [Begin: Interlude]

The first quarter meeting had been delayed by unfortunate circumstances this year. What with its two CEOs mixed up in Avengers superhero business and the downfall of a huge government agency which was hiding a Hydra conspiracy inside of it… things had to understandably be put on the back burner until the end of January. So now that you and Tony were a little bit more free and clear, you decided to host a bigger conference than normal. You had your own presentation to give inside of it, for the Board more than anyone else, but at the same time you could run the project updates from the other departments and see where development were on several other key things. 

These sort of things were always nerve wracking, no matter if you were confident in the works you had started. Even if it ended up that the Board disagreed or didn’t like what was going on, they would never have the balls to start organizing another movement for removal. For either you or Tony. After what had happened last time… and now that the two of you were certifiable public darlings and heroes- they’d never do that again. It would be against their own interests. 

Yet, still, knowing this, you had a two hour long presentation about your projects and initiatives. Some that went years back. It was hard to hold a room for that long, you knew. But the information needed to be out and in the light of day so that Stark Industries could move forward into the new year. Tony helped you prepare… the best he could, anyway, and he sat front row for you while you took the stage. 

You went through each with power points that you and Pepper had put together late into the night the day before. Starting with the Clean Planet Initiative that had started the moment Tony had shut down the weapons division of Stark Industries and spanning the power up of the Tower everyone was currently sitting in. That was going all well and good. Of course. Running smoothly, the Tower was still sustaining itself, and Stark Industries had been able to credit itself with the reduction of air pollution, with plastic waste reduction, with fuel efficiency regulations, and new clean energy production. Stark Industries’ teams in that area had also begun their last phase of their Intellicrops project, which was something they’d present near the end of the conference. 

Then came the update on the Disaster Relief Funds for both the Expo and the Battle of New York. After the initial snafu of having terrible staff that had had to be replaced, things had been running a little bit more smoothly. Though the funds had not run dry, their usage had gone down- which was a great sign. It meant people were no longer relying on Stark Industries for help. Life was returning back to normal. Not particularly important to people like the Board, but the mentions of the oodles of tax credits the company could still claim and the boost to PR through all this was a little bit more substantial to their tastes.

A lengthy chunk of time was dedicated to Damage Control’s reports about the clean up portion of New York. You made sure to include that you’d broken off a portion of the team to go assess and clean up DC, and that the warehouses were scheduled to go under a revamp after you’d been forced to purchase more property for them to operate. Company bloat would always be a thing to be mindful of, but when that bloat consisted of deadly weapons… someone needed to go through every single shelf to make sure things were not only accounted for, but to determine whether or not those very same things were worth holding on to. 

After that you gave the update on the Hansen Foundation. Still up and running strong. Though it had mostly assisted and helped the veterans that had been hurt by AIM’s malicious intentions, you and Tony had expanded it to care for the nation’s veterans that were otherwise not getting the help they needed. Going well, smoothly, and in the light of mentioning the funds needed for the Foundation, you again brought up the tax breaks and stock boosts that came from having someone like Colonel Rhodes on advisory staff. It had been a huge face lift for Stark Industries. Putting its past behind it and moving forward to navigate the damage it may have taken part in. 

...especially after the SHIELD leaks had informed the public that Obadiah Stane had been selling weapons to America’s enemies for fun and profit… yes, this foundation out of all of them was probably the most important one to have as a full face right now. 

The last two points of business were two of your newest initiatives: M and OAT. It was a little early to be reporting on either of them in a financial capacity, but the public returns had already been great and, as you convinced everyone, very cost effective. The net gain would far outweigh whatever dollar amount ended up being on the end of this year’s reports. You were very sure of that. With OAT came the mention that you and Tony were looking to buy up another building- perhaps in DC, but not sure yet, to accommodate the expansion of Stark Industries and its brand new employees. Scouting would have to be done soon, something you said you were looking forward to. 

With that you opened the floor for questions, whether from the Board or the teams that had been invited to this big meeting. There had been… many. More than you would have liked. And more than you needed about topics not exactly pertinent to your presentations. Many of them having to do with the SHIELD leaks, of course, and your and Tony’s various… dealings. It wasn’t hard to put the voices to bed, and direct them to any of the multitude of reports that already existed. As for if any of them would negatively impact the company, you had personally already seen to that your and Tony’s motives would not be questioned. 

After that very public spat with Christine, the general consensus was that you were doing your job- as a superhero and businesswoman. Were someone to look up to. Were someone that people agreed with, in every poll that had come out about it. Stark Industries had remained untouched. So whether or not you should have blown up that way (you were kind of the mind that you maybe shouldn’t have and should have remained dignified about it) didn’t matter anymore. You had and the public was loving it. 

Christine had retreated into a hole. Calls had stopped. Her portion of the media that followed you and Tony around like hawks had disappeared. That spelled trouble, you were sure. She’d been smacked pretty hard for all to see. There was no way she was going to take that without repercussions. You just hoped… she wouldn’t do something drastic. Better not to think about it, for the moment. 

Once your portion of the conference was finished, you thanked everyone and as usual, made a small speech about looking forward to the year ahead. After that, you excused yourself off the presentation stage in the theater, wanting to take a moment just to breathe after speaking for so long. Even though you hadn’t seen him get up, it didn’t surprise you to see Tony waiting for you behind the curtain, bottle of chilled water in hand. 

The next presenter was already taking the stage as he smiled at you. “Great stuff. You really have a talent for getting people to eat out of your hand.” 

“You know, I think one of the members of the Board said that to me a long time ago.” Hard to remember it, now. Although the part of your brain that held on to all things painful reminded you that that moment had not been a good one. 

“They’re not wrong.” As you took the water from him and sipped at it gingerly, he put an arm around your waist. “What’d’you think? Time to cut and run?” 

“That would be very rude to the other presenters.” While this grand meeting would be summarized in reports that you would go over later anyway… it was better for appearance to sit through and smile. 

“Hm. Yeah. Well. Then we have a problem.” Humming sardonically. When you looked up at him he grinned. “It may also be very rude to the waitstaff at Ivy Lane if we bail on our reservation.” 

You settled a hand on his chest with a playfully light push. “You mean your reservation. I had no part in that.” 

“It was for two.” 

“Guess you’ll have to get Bruce to go.” 

“Busy.” 

“So am I.” 

The exchange left the two of you lightly smirking at one another, probably all too obvious you’d give in very soon. He helped speed matters along by lifting the hand you’d laid over his heart, pressing a kiss to the back. “Come on. Little celebration dinner never hurt anyone.” 

“Technically the conference isn’t over. Celebrating early might invite chaos…” Lilting lightly as you half leaned up. 

“I can handle chaos- especially restaurant chaos. What’s the worst they can do. Burn my chicken? Spill my wine?” 

“Let’s not tempt fate, darling.” Shifting completely forward to press a small kiss to his lips. 

It was interrupted all too soon by a clearing of someone’s throat. And when the two of you broke and turned, you saw Happy standing behind you. He hooked a thumb towards the exit door. “Car’s ready.” 

You feigned annoyance back up at Tony. “I didn’t even say I would go.” 

“But you will. Call me crazy, but, I’m pretty sure I know you by now.” 

That damnable boyish charm of his, with that beautiful wry smile… you wondered if Tony Stark was aware of just how much he had you wrapped around his finger. You only hoped the feeling was mutual, as the two of you made your quiet escape. And hoped that no one noticed. Or saw. Or cared. 

                                                     ---- 

As luck would have it, the night after that went perfectly fine. No one burned Tony’s food, no one spilled any drinks on you. Though he didn’t reserve the whole restaurant, the two of you had a back table all to yourselves. It was nice to just be together, to just spend some time together after everything. Really, it was starting to feel like falling into a bit of a routine that way. 

Something terrible and seemingly world-ending would come down upon you, Tony, and the team. You’d all figure it out. Clean up would start. And then eventually you and Tony would pretend you knew what normal life looked like for a little while. Enjoy each other’s company. And then… something else bad would happen. 

It made the moments you shared, like that, precious. But it also… served to fuel your anxiety. How many more times would big terrible things happen? How many more storms would you have to weather? 

While you had decided, coming into your realization, that you didn’t want to ruin the evening, he caught your eyes in the lowlights of flickering candles, and his smile disappeared. Settling his hand over yours, “You okay?” 

Your smile was somewhat bittersweet. “That obvious?” 

“Always.” Such a strong and resolute statement drove a stake of warmth through your churning worries. 

But it wasn’t enough to kill them. “I don’t wanna ruin the night. I just… for a second couldn’t help but think about how we always end up here. After something nasty. Like we’re caught in an endless cycle.” 

His eyes lowered, thinking. There was a soft silence before he started nodding lightly. “Yeah. ...I’m still in the planning phases, of this whole defense idea, but. I think I can get Banner in by June and start putting in the real work.” 

This was not where you wanted to put his mind right now, but now that you’d forced him there, you had no choice. “I know we’ve talked about it but could you just… as simple as possible give me what your “defense idea” is?” Before it had been assistance. Something to help the Avengers. But now… 

“It would be nice. Kinda far fetched, but. I work best on lofty ideals.” Smiling just a little. “-anyway, what I’m getting at… I’m willing to put in the time and effort- to something that… lets us go home.” 

“Is that an option?” 

“I’m still in the very rough draft phases, but-” 

You turned your hand over in his so that you could give him a squeeze. “I’m not asking if you could build something. I have no doubt in my mind that you could figure out something- even something that big. I’m asking… even if you did…” 

“Would we be able to stop?” A breath left him, and he slid his fingers between yours, just holding on. His eyes dropped again. “If you’re asking me that, you already know the answer. But. In terms of incremental steps. Monitoring a situation is better than being on the front lines.” 

Monitoring. You imagined, he meant this, from somewhere safe. Wasn’t that what this was all about? There were levels of this. To build something that would allow you to pretend you could lead normal lives. To build something that would protect the earth from the things he saw up in space, and the things he thought would eventually come to earth to wreak more havoc. But, on top of it all… 

Somewhere inside you, you heard the broken plea he’d made the night before your house in California had been blown up. 

Threat is imminent, and I have to protect the one thing that I can't live without. That's you.

Taking a breath, you tried to level the both of you out, and aimed a quieter smile his way. “When you say lets us go home, what is it you’re envisioning?” 

He blinked twice, having to shift gears to acquiesce that kind of question. But, once he was there, the quirk in the corner of his lips was considerably wry. “Are you asking me where I see us?” 

“In… five years.” 

“Am I being interviewed?” Grinning, then. 

You returned the expression. “If it helps to think of it that way, then sure.” 

“Alright. Five years…” Breathing out, eyes going up quickly in thought. As if he was looking at something- the picture he had in his mind. “New house. Something- comfortable. I think I’m aging out of my whole playboy billionaire estate vibe.” 

“Thank god for that.” 

For one reason or another this got a little laugh out of him, a drop of his head. When his eyes returned to yours, he lifted your joined hands, shifting forward so that he could rest the back of yours against his cheek. “Even though it seems like it’s not up to me- I’d hope by then you’ll settle for marriage.” 

“Settle, huh? That’s a terrible pitch. You’re doing a disservice to yourself, you know.” 

“If that’s how you feel, I’ll have them bring out a slice of cake with a ring in it right now.” 

While you didn’t think he had something like that set up, you also knew if you gave him even the barest notion that that was what you wanted, he’d absolutely make it happen in fifteen minutes. He was ready to jump for you, whenever you were ready. That’s what he was saying. It put a squeeze in your heart. “Tony…” 

“Oh that sounds bad.” Teasing, even knowing defeat was coming, smiling even still. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” 

“We’re off to a good start.” 

“Just- right now…” You sighed, and he mirrored it, looking the exact kind of crestfallen yet understanding that really broke your heart. “Right now is not the right time.” 

He nodded, and then pressed a little closer to your hand. “But. In five years?” 

Your brows went up. “Did you just turn the tables on me?” 

“I was sure you’d be used to that by now.” 

Untangling your fingers from his, you turned your hand, resting his cheek in your palm. Just holding him. Dearly. Lovingly. Eyes watching his. “In five years… yes. I’d like a home with you. I’d like to build a life with you. And… yes. Be married to you.” 

“Okay.” He murmured, looking at you. Adoration shone in his eyes, radiated between you, twined with that ever present and deep feeling of love. That he had only for you. “In five years.” 

Hearing him at that moment, make a promise. A promise to try and find a way to cull that self same chaos in your lives. The uncertainty. Not only for the world. But for the both of you. So that the two of you could have a life together. “I love you, Tony.” 

His smile was so beautiful. “I love you, too.” Reaching up to hold your hand there against his face, turning lightly, to press a kiss to your palm. “More than anything.” 

                                                    ----

A light rain had started to fall and it was terribly chilly outside, but after your meal you and Tony decided it might be nice to just take a little walk in the rain. Happy provided the both of you with an umbrella, and at your request set a moving security perimeter of twenty feet, him ten behind, just to keep cameras at bay. It sucked, that you were having to do that increasingly more, but this life came with that territory. 

Tony was holding the umbrella over the both of you, his other arm preoccupied, twined with yours as you laid your head against him. The city at least seemed quiet, not even in the superficial way that your security was creating. It was just… nice. Even the cold was refreshing, in a way. The two of you had slipped into slightly broken and soft conversation about nothing important. 

It was hard to sense the subtle shift, lulled into that false sense of things being alright. Someone had been following the two of you. And it wasn’t until you heard Happy arguing with whoever it was that the both of you turned. 

A little too late as a woman put him over her shoulder and onto his back in a hard thump. She was short, black hair and very pale skin- and she was angry. Tony immediately moved just in front of you, “Please don’t touch my Happy.” Calling out to her. 

While she looked at him for a few seconds, her gaze skewed to you. “I don’t want trouble.” And after saying so, continued to give you the exact opposite idea as she came stomping your way. 

You couldn’t help but make a face at her. “Then you’re making a mistake.” Whoever she was, she was now just short of charging two of the most powerful people in the city. How she’d broken through security was a bit of an upsetting question- but- the two of you could handle yourselves. 

Said security had gotten the message that something was going down on their watch, and two of your Stark Industries strongmen came to her side. A car pulled up on the sidewalk. Tony opened the door for you, and put his arm around you to usher you inside. But, with one leg up and a hand on the door, you heard her call. “Hey-!” Whoever she was, the police could sort her out. Your plan was to leave. At least until she yelled again. 

“Hey, puppy!” 

It shot a tremor through you so violent you thought for a second the sidewalk must be shaking. Going in the car was no longer an option. Your body seemed to be moving on its own as you turned back to look at her. Your security was scattered on the sidewalk. 

“That’s what I thought. That’s you. Right?” 

Tony’s voice was so very far away. Muffled, as he called out, with a hand on your shoulder, “Honey-” 

The next motions came in swift chops. The yank of your jacket zipper. The double press of the Heart Reactor. Tony was yelling something behind you- as you’d started moving. Running at full speed. This woman was dangerous. And not only that- 

She was with him. 

Moving to a half leap to put all your momentum forward, you charged at her with a powerful punch. One she caught, both of her hands holding you at bay, gritting her teeth at you as the two of you struggled. “Listen to me-” Growling at you. 

“You work for him-” Growling right on back, zipping your eyes up along your HUD to get the helmet to release. You wanted to look into her eyes for this. To send a message to her- and him. You felt a snarl as you bore your teeth at her, “So you go back to him and tell him-” 

“I don’t work for that asshole. And he’s dead. No thanks to you.” 

That practically killed the fight in you almost immediately. The feeling of such raw and powerful guilt- of disgust and of wrath… you’d felt these things before. Easing up on your punch, even though she still held you in her palms, you narrowed your eyes at her. The heavy smell of liquor rolling off her was sickening. “What are you talking about?” 

“It’s you, right? At least tell me I’ve got that part down.” There was a smaller air of satisfaction. She scoffed with a dead-eyed half grin. “Yeah. He’s dead. I thought you should know.” Her eyes moved sideways and then she let you go, putting her hands up. “I did what I came here to do.” 

You realized the sound of a heavy thunk behind you too late. Tony had pulled a suit- probably from the car- and while this woman was strong... she was also probably no idiot. “Are we talking about-” 

“Kilgrave. If you even got that far. If you even cared.” She spit at you. Like this was… your fault, somehow. “I thought he was lying, you know. Not that it matters, he’s dead now. But he hurt a lot of people. Because you let him.” 

“You’re sure he’s dead?” 

She hung her head, a sarcastic bark of laughter leaving her. “Saw him got hit by a bus. Yeah. He’s pretty dead.” Then she looked up at you, and for a moment you weren’t sure you’d ever seen so much boiling hate- or felt so much- directed at you before. “Superhero my ass. You could’ve stopped him-” 

It riled you straight to your core. Even as you held up your hand to keep Tony at bay- from firing on this woman- you stared her down. “If we’re talking about the same monster, then you know I had no say in what I did.” 

“But you got out. And you let him continue to roam around. Because you’re a coward. Live with that for the rest of your life. Knowing he hurt so many other people. Knowing you could have done more. People are dead because of you.” Then she turned away in a half stumble, shoving aside one of your other security guards who had gotten to his feet. “Don’t touch me.” Barking at him, half falling over, catching herself, and then walking off. 

Your men were staring at you, waiting for direction- because two of the Iron People of the world were standing there, letting her get away. So clearly that meant they shouldn’t get involved. Right? “...ma’am?” 

Tony put a hand on your shoulder. “Honey.” 

With a shaky hand, feeling the earth shift beneath you, you reached up to deactivate the suit, and felt the slice of pouring rain suddenly coming down over you. The man that had taken you… one you’d promised vengeance on- the one you’d promised you’d make regret doing that- regret hurting others… also the one you ran from- such a dangerous, powerful man. The man who could command people with a single word. 

...had gotten hit by a bus. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you turned to Tony, unable to meet his eyes. “I need to go home.” 

“Yeah-” Clearly stunned and confused, having no earthly idea what the hell was going on. But wanting to heed your needs. 

Once the two of you were in the car with Happy behind the wheel, promising he was okay- and apologizing for letting that happen- you tuned everything else out except the patter of rain on the windows. 

Fury had been right. You should have gotten out of bed. You should have made an effort. Maybe you could have caught that man- Kilgrave, apparently. That did make you a coward. The woman was right. 

Stuck in traffic, fifteen minutes out from the Tower, you found your voice. “She said he’s dead.” 

Tony had his arm around you, the both of you soaking wet still. “Who?” 

“The one who took me.” 

The air in the back of the car became suffocating and dark. “...she sure about that?” 

“She wasn’t lying.” You knew it, now. Sensed it, as she was coming down on you. Everything she’d said was true. “She blamed me-” This escaping out of you in a hiccup as you reached up to press a hand to your forehead. 

“She was also drunk. Which. Excusable. Given the circumstances. But. Also skews her judgment.” He was trying to defend you. And much as you wanted to give in… 

“She called me a coward.” 

“What more proof do you need that she’s wrong?” When you didn’t- couldn’t- answer, he let a breath out. “...we’re really sure. That he’s dead? Who even is she? ...you’re sure she’s sure?” Double and triple checking. Wordlessly you nodded. “...how did she know about you?” 

“He must have… told her. I don’t know. He was a sick person.” 

“And he’s dead now. According to her.” Tony’s skepticism was understandable. This was such a terrible mark on both your lives. To have it come to a quick and unforeseeable, maybe even unknowable end… it was hard to believe. “...either way. I had JARVIS grab a scan.” 

“Why?” Finding enough strength to finally look up at him. 

“Seems like enhanced people are popping up everywhere, these days. Seeing as how she laid out our security and held a swing from you like Cap, I’m thinking it’s not a bad idea to keep an eye on things.” 

You weren’t sure how you felt about this. If she were anything like you- and it seemed like you had an uncomfortable amount in common… “I don’t want to spy on her.” 

“Nobody said spy. I’m not spying.” Defending himself quickly. 

“I believe her.” What she had been saying was true. You… were pretty sure about it. 

“Alright. So I believe you when you believe her. Doesn’t change the fact that a woman that angry and that boozed up could punch a hole through a regular person.” 

Your eyes dropped, thinking about this. ...he was right. And you weren’t sure how to feel about that. The two of you weren’t responsible for every single newly enhanced individual that showed up on the street. Not until they started menacing the general public, at least. Then it was sort of your problem.

But this woman had been taken by that man. Probably abused by him. No telling for how long. She was now angry and had a new sense of freedom. ...she was also self medicating with alcohol. And she had some pretty heavy firepower in her muscles. This was a dangerous cocktail. ...it also wasn’t fair to pigeonhole her. 

“SHIELD kept tabs on people, remember? And we didn’t like it. ...I’m- I agree with you. This situation is a little dicey but… let’s leave her alone. Until she decides what side of the fence she’s coming out on.” 

“I’m not trying to menace her.” There was a sudden blossom of blue in the backseat as he looked away. Guilt was very close. “...I remember. How you came out of that. I’ve got nothing but sympathy, alright?” Leaning in closer, you practically hid your face against the round of his shoulder, hand over his heart. Just clinging to him. He took a breath to even himself out. “We’ll stay worried about us. And our current situation.” Making a very valiant effort, he touched a hand over your wet hair, directing your attention his way, and tried a smile for you. “...and that five years will be here before you know it.” 

Out of all the ways you’d expected this evening to go… this wasn’t exactly the chaos you’d thought you were inviting. It wasn’t exactly the worst, either. But it… definitely sucked. 

[empresskatariah]

Prologue

Fomorians were sea-folk, though they hadn’t always been, and those that took to land were often weakened by the absence of water. There was enough of their previous form left to give them proper legs and a means of breathing, but not even their tremendous reserves of magic could keep their skins from drying out. Containing one was simply a matter of waiting until dehydration set in and slowed it up.

But tonight the stars were hidden behind a thick layer of clouds that kept dumping torrents of rain. The air was heavy and humid, dank with the stench of wet asphalt that had been dry for too long. Oz surveyed the cityscape from his perch atop a high-rise for some bank or another, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his raincoat while the other held onto a small radio. His slitted pupils dilated as he scanned the streets for any sign of activity, then narrowed slightly as the radio crackled.

“Do you see anything?” came the query, a masculine but youthful tone.

“Nah. Sky’s still pissin’. Don’t bode well if it’s the Fomoire about.”

Oz’s voice was a stark contrast to the one from the radio. He spoke quietly but gruffly, with the barest hint of a lilting Scots’ brogue. Baritone with a growl, someone had said once; Oz didn’t disagree with that assessment.

“You never know, maybe it’s just another Kelpie and someone overreacted. It wouldn’t be the first time. I mean, how many years has it been since one of the Deep Ones came ashore?”

Oz’s face scrunched into a scowl and he opened his mouth to retort, but then his jaw clicked shut without a word. It was moments like this one that made him feel tired, or perhaps old was a better word for it.

“Three decades, give or take a couple years. Doesn’t feel that long to me, though.”

“Cheer up, old man.” A laugh came through the speaker. “Odds are we get to finish up here soon and then we’ll go to Waffle House, my treat.”

Oz’s eyes widened. Suddenly the promise of Waffle House shone like a flaming beacon in the midst of this dismal murk, beckoning him onward. He leaned forward, peering out at the desolate vista with renewed interest.

“Better be ready to pay dearly, then,” he said slyly, one corner of his mouth pulling upward in a toothy grin, “because I haven’t had waffles in–”

A scream cut him off. It was a man’s shriek of terror, a raw and desperate sound that cut through the muggy air like a knife. As if on cue, lightning lit up the sky and a clap of thunder followed merely half a second behind.

“What was that?” the radio demanded.

“I’m on it,” Oz grunted, stuffing the radio into his pocket as he lunged.

The ground was many stories down, at least twenty floors, but Oz hurled himself over the edge with no hesitation. For a moment he was flying, in the next he was falling – he plummeted carelessly as the air roared past him, his raincoat flapping noisily as he went.

He closed his eyes. Wondered how big of a splat he’d make if he just stayed like this and hit the ground. Wondered how long it would take to come back from a mess like that.

I always land on my feet, he thought absently, and dissipated into a cloud of black smoke.

When he reformed he was standing where he’d envisioned going splat, on a curb surrounded by loose litter and dead leaves. A large plastic bag full of waste lay nearby with several stray cats helping themselves to its contents. When Oz passed them by they stared at him, heads turning in unison as their eyes tracked him.

“It’s the King,” one of them murmured in cat-speech, amazed.

“Not anymore,” Oz growled, continuing on his way without pause.

He was glad for the lack of human presence on a night like this. It meant he could move faster than any human should without attracting unwanted attention. A man of his appearance had no business sprinting up Seventh Street at the speed of a cruising car, and yet he did so with ease. When he came to a large puddle he cleared it in a single leap, never losing his balance for an instant.

It should be around here, I know I heard it coming from this direction…

He skidded to a halt as another scream sounded. It echoed from the dark recess of a nearby alleyway, where a single electric light flickered intermittently. Immediately Oz felt an oppressive aura emanating from the shadows, a force of sheer wrongness permeating the rainy haze and causing his skin to prickle into gooseflesh. He only realized he was clenching his teeth when his jaw began to ache. Slowly, carefully he took the radio from his pocket and pressed the button.

“I know this stench,” he said quietly. “It’s one of Them. Put everyone on high alert.”

“A Deep One? A real Fomorian?” Oz could tell his comrade was truly afraid. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“Aye.” Oz drew in a deep breath, then let it out in a weary sigh. “Listen. Perce. You’re a good kid. A brave one. But I’m tellin’ you, you need to sit this one out. Let me handle it. I’ve been at this a lot longer than you and believe me, you’re better off stayin’ where you are.”

“Like hell I am,” Percy scoffed. “I’m your handler, Oz. You’re my responsibility. As if I’d just let you face something like that on your own. I’m coming and I’m bringing backup, all right? You just wait for–”

Oz turned the radio off. Tossed it aside. It skittered over the pavement and clanged against a metal trash can.

“Backup,” he spat, shaking his head as if the notion was ludicrous. “Guess I’m to hurry, then.”

Advancing into the alley was like pushing through a series of disgusting membranes. It was completely invisible, even to fey sight, but Oz could feel the presence trying to ward him off with a field of pure thought meant to dredge up his every fear. To a human it might have been overwhelming, perhaps enough to induce insanity, but to Oz it was an annoyance.

The closer he got, however, the worse it became. When he looked down at his hands he was greeted with the illusion of being covered in a horde of slimy things that pulsed and quivered like disembodied intestines. When he breathed it felt like swallowing bile. His sanity remained intact, his intellect coolly refuting the falsehoods, but it was still monumentally unpleasant.

So distracted was he by the psychic onslaught that he failed to realize he had found the crime scene until his foot stepped on something soft instead of pavement. When he looked down he saw a hand. Just a hand. The blood leaking out of its stump of a wrist was still fresh.

“Oh,” he said aloud, and dared to lift his gaze.

The sight that assaulted him was something not meant to exist. It was a creature whose composition had been dictated by mankind’s fear of the unknown, specifically man’s fear of what lay hidden beneath the ocean. It was vaguely humanoid but obscenely inhuman, a conglomeration of gills and eyes and tentacles that inflicted itself upon reality with malevolent iron will.

It was a Fomorian. And it was still eating what appeared to be a homeless man.

Oz considered his options. Ending this quickly meant going all-out, but going all-out meant his compatriots would have… difficulties dealing with the aftermath. The rain was still falling in copious amounts, meaning this beast wouldn’t run out of hydration anytime soon. It would be a long and ultimately costly fight that would likely decimate this part of the city.

You are afraid to give in to your true nature?

Oz hissed and covered his ears with his hands, though he knew it was a futile gesture. The question had been projected directly into his mind.

“I’m not afraid,” he snapped, unwilling to give the Fomorian the satisfaction of conversing as it wished to. “I’m just pissed off. Why are you here? There’s nothin’ for you here on land.”

I could say the same for you, the entity replied. Its tone was flat and emotionless, much like the text-to-speech voices human devices produced. Why do you continue to play human, Irusan?

“Don’t call me that,” Oz snarled. “It’s complicated. And you’re avoidin’ the question. Why. Are. You. Here?”

He awakens soon. No longer will we be imprisoned Below in the ruined depths of Atlantis. We shall walk the Earth again as we did in the days of mighty Balor. We shall shed these cursed forms and reclaim our land from the Usurpers.

At the mention of Balor Oz’s glare deepened and he clenched his hands into fists. Tufts of black fur were beginning to emerge from beneath his sleeves. As he bared his teeth at the enemy, he could feel that his canines had elongated.

“Fuck Balor,” he declared, “and fuck you. I’m giving you one chance to go crawlin’ back into the depths and that’s it. One. Or I’ll tear you apart and turn you into pâté.”

The Deep One tossed aside what was left of its dinner and regarded Oz with what could be presumed as contempt, since its features were unsuited for expressing emotion. It was a smaller variant compared to others of its kind, but it still filled the entire alleyway and towered at least two stories.

You should be our ally, it complained. Your behavior is illogical.

“I’ve never been much good at doing what’s expected of me,” Oz growled, stooping down like a coiled spring ready to unleash, sharp claws emerging from the tips of his gloves.

“OZ!”

A shot rang out and the Fomorian recoiled as it was struck by an iron bullet. Vile vapors billowed from the wound and it loosed a psychic scream that brought Oz to his knees. He could hear cries of anguish behind him as the human personnel who had come to aid him were assailed by mental violence they had no way of fighting against. Despite his own pain, he managed to turn and saw Percy still upright, albeit on one knee.

“Percy, you fool,” he managed.

The man whose face was still that of a boy scowled and raised his handgun. Blood was trickling from his nose and ears but he stubbornly persisted, firing off another shot at the eldritch being.

“I called for more backup,” Percy yelled, his teeth stained red. “I told them to bring everyone. I–”

His eyes bulged and rolled up, showing only their whites, as his body began to tremble. The hand holding his gun swayed left, then right, then planted the weapon’s barrel firmly against Percy’s temple.

Human puppet, the Deep One rumbled. Die.

Oz reached out toward Percy, fingers spreading in vain as Percy’s life ended in a bang and a spray of red mist.

A memory flashed through Oz’s mind unbidden, a crystal-clear remembrance of the day they had first shaken hands.

Hi, I’m Percival Ainsley. You must be Oz! I’ve heard so much about you. I think we’ll work well together, you and I.

As he watched the young man’s body crumple to the ground, Oz felt the last tether that had been holding him back snap.

“I’ll kill you,” he bellowed, his voice deepening into a roar as he turned to face the enemy. “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill...”

The sound of meat being skewered cut him off. The realization didn’t set in until Oz’s eyes followed the tentacles that had extended into his own torso, one shoved directly beneath his heart while the other had stabbed through his right side. The pain was oddly distant, save the immediate annoyance of his left lung collapsing.

“Kill you,” he wheezed, grabbing hold of one protrusion with both hands. It was strong but so was he; rage fueled him as he twisted the tentacle in an effort to remove it.

You have become weak, the Fomorian noted dispassionately. And with that it lifted him and slammed him into a brick wall with enough force to break through, sending up a cloud of dust as debris scattered.

The next few minutes seemed to last for hours. Oz slowly became aware of many things: the bitter taste of blood in his mouth, the pain of several broken ribs, a burning sensation that might be a punctured organ or two, and the fact that his right arm had become completely dislocated. His head felt wrong, as if his skull had cracked open like a walnut’s shell. Instead of getting to his feet as he wished to do, he could only struggle as his body refused to do more than thrash around feebly. A killing rage still burned in his chest, but it burned in vain.

“Dammit,” he swore, coughing violently. “Damn you.”

He’d been too slow. Too indecisive. Too willing to give a monster a chance to stand down, too attached to old allegiances that meant nothing now…

Percy. Lad. I’m sorry.

His left hand reached out, trembling, but grasped nothing. Then it fell and hit the floor with a dull thud.

Sounds of battle drifted to him from what seemed a far distance, though he knew they were mere meters away. Reinforcements had arrived. Oz had no doubt they would be able to kill the Fomorian, or at least harass it until it decided to flee back to the sea. But he could no longer muster the energy to care about victory or defeat. Simply breathing was a Herculean labor now.

Not again. Not again...

His last thought, as his heart ceased to beat and one last breath passed through his lips, was of waffles.

[johnmauldin]

Mauldin: 7 Forecasts from the Brightest Financial Minds I Know

In my fairly upbeat 2018 forecast, I predicted that the US economy and markets will probably hold up well, thanks to tax cuts and deregulation. That’s, of course, assuming the Federal Reserve gets no more hawkish than it already has.

Continuing my series of forecasts, here I’ll look at predictions from some of my most trusted friends and colleagues (subscribe to Thoughts from the Frontline to receive all my forecasts). Some disagree with my own views—and that’s perfectly fine. I want you to see all sides so you can make good decisions for your own family and portfolio.

I’ll let these forecasters speak for themselves in longer quotes than I usually allow, then add my own comments.

The article runs long, but I’m sure you’ll take away a lot from it, so bear with me…

Ben Hunt: No Algorithm Can Predict the Future

Let’s start not with a forecast but with an important story about forecasts from Ben Hunt.

Ben’s wide-ranging essays are hard to summarize or excerpt in a way that captures their breadth and depth.

I’ll give you a tiny snippet, but please, set aside some time this month to read the entire article. It is long but worth your while.

The Three-Body Problem is a famous example of a system which has no derivative pattern with any predictive power, no applicable algorithm that a human could discover to adapt successfully and turn basis uncertainty into basis risk. In the lingo, there is no “general closed-form solution” to the Three-Body Problem. (It’s also the title of the best science fiction book I’ve read in the past 20 years, by Cixin Liu. Truly a masterpiece. Life and perspective-changing, in fact, both in its depiction of China and its depiction of the game theory of civilization.)

What is the “problem”? Imagine three massive objects in space … stars, planets, something like that. They’re in the same system, meaning that they can’t entirely escape each other’s gravitational pull. You know the position, mass, speed, and direction of travel for each of the objects. You know how gravity works, so you know precisely how each object is acting on the other two objects. Now predict for me, using a formula, where the objects will be at some point in the future.

Answer: You can’t. In 1887, Henri Poincaré proved that the motion of the three objects, with the exception of a few special starting cases, is non-repeating. This is a chaotic system, meaning that the historical pattern of object positions has ZERO predictive power in figuring out where these objects will be in the future. There is no algorithm that a human can possibly discover to solve this problem. It does not exist.

And that of course is the basic problem we have in economics and investing. When we say that past performance is not indicative of future results, that aphorism is more than just legalese.

Such ideas can easily discourage us from even thinking about the future. However, the real answer is to think about the future differently.

With that prelude, let’s move on.

Anatole Kaletsky: Inflation and Bond Yields Will Accelerate

If I had to rank economic forecasting groups (as opposed to individuals) for consistent quality, Gavekal would be high on the list.

Here are just a few Gavekal snippets from the opening week of 2018. We’ll start with Anatole Kaletsky, who zooms in on inflation as this year’s key unknown factor.

Will inflation accelerate in the US, but not in other major economies? I think the answer is “Yes”, for the same reasons as above. However, I also expected inflation to accelerate and bond yields to increase last year. Instead, both inflation and growth ended the year exactly where they were.

The simple answer is that US unemployment is now 4.1% instead of 4.8%. I was wrong about 5% unemployment being a non-inflationary growth limit, and maybe 4% isn’t either. But whatever the exact number may be, the US is certainly closer to its non-inflationary growth limit now than it was a year ago. In addition, the Trump tax cuts, if they actually stimulate higher US consumption and/or investment (which they may not do by any meaningful amount) will add to US inflationary pressures, since new production capacity will take several years to boost non-inflationary trend growth.

If the prediction of higher US inflation turns out to be right, it will be a game-changer. It will produce much more volatile market conditions and even greater under-performance by US equities and bonds relative to assets in Europe and Japan, where inflation is not a risk.

The follow-on question, if Anatole is right about inflation, is how the Fed will respond to it. The ideal response would have been to start tightening about three years ago. That opportunity having past, the remaining choices are all varying degrees of bad.

Louis Gave: Financials and Energy Will Be Top Sectors This Year

Now let’s move on to Louis Gave, who gives us some stock market ideas at the end of a long, thoughtful essay on liquidity.

Putting it all together, 2018 does seem to be starting on a different note than 2017. While the bull market may not be in peril, it is a tough environment for a price/earnings ratio expansion to occur. Such an outcome usually relies on excess liquidity moving into equities. Yet in 2018, equity markets are more likely to be a source of liquid funds than a destination for them. It follows that if a multiple-expansion is off the table then equity gains will rely on earnings rising. The area where such an improved profit picture is likely is financials (higher rates and velocity) and energy (higher prices). The fact that both of these sectors presently trade on low multiples also helps.

If you want specific sector ideas, there are two good ones.

David Kotok: A Shift Upward Will Continue

My friend David Kotok of Cumberland Advisors had some New Year’s Day thoughts on the Republican tax bill’s impact.

Once the transitional shock of yearend is absorbed, we think the tax bill will raise the valuation of US stocks. Simply put, the tax bill will generate a permanent shift upward of somewhere between $10 and $14 in the threshold of S&P 500 earnings. Once you adjust for that permanent shift, you may continue to factor in the earnings growth rate that you expect from a US economy that is going to grow at 3% instead of 2%. We believe that growth rate is likely for a couple of years.

So, S&P 500 earnings should range up to and then above $150 by the decade’s end. They will do so while the Fed is still engaged in a gradualist restoration of interest rates to something more “normal,” whatever that word means. And those earnings will occur while a repatriation effect is unleashing $1 trillion of stagnant cash in some form of robust redistribution (dividends or stock buybacks) or as productivity-enhancing capex spending. Bottom line is no recession in sight for at least a few years; and low inflation remains, so interest-rate rises will not derail the economic recovery, nor will they alter rising stock market valuations.

Years ago we projected a 3000 level on the S&P 500 Index by 2020.

That is considerably more bullish than most 2018 forecasts I’ve seen. Rather than argue with David, I’ll say this: Be ready for anything this year. The future is no more uncertain than it always is, but the consequences of a mistake are growing as the bull market and economic expansion grow long in the tooth.

They will end at some point. That means you need a strategy that will let you both participate on the upside and defend yourself when the bear appears. I reiterate that you should be diversifying trading strategies, not just asset classes.

Paul Krugman: Rising Rates Spell Trouble

Next we turn to Paul Krugman, who is not generally one of my favorite economists. I quote him this time because he sounds a lot like, well, me.

So we’re living in an era of political turmoil and economic calm. Can it last?

My answer is that it probably can’t, because the return to normalcy is fragile. Sooner or later, something will go wrong, and we’re very poorly placed to respond when it does. But I can’t tell you what that something will be, or when it will happen.

The key point is that while the major advanced economies are currently doing more or less OK, they’re doing so thanks to very low interest rates by historical standards. That’s not a critique of central bankers. All indications are that for whatever reason — probably low population growth and weak productivity performance — our economies need those low, low rates to achieve anything like full employment. And this in turn means that it would be a terrible, recession-creating mistake to “normalize” rates by raising them to historical levels.

But given that rates are already so low when things are pretty good, it will be hard for central bankers to mount an effective response if and when something not so good happens. What if something goes wrong in China, or a second Iranian revolution disrupts oil supplies, or it turns out that tech stocks really are in a 1999ish bubble? Or what if Bitcoin actually starts to have some systemic importance before everyone realizes it’s nonsense?

That was from Krugman’s January 1 New York Times column, and his assessment is not far from my own view.

The difference between us is that Krugman has made a remarkable turnaround since the imminent doom he predicted right after the election. So I’m glad to welcome his Damascene conversion.

I hope it sticks this time.

David Rosenberg: We Are 90% Through This Cycle

I don’t know any economic forecaster more prolific than David Rosenberg. I don’t know how he even finds time to sleep, frankly. His Breakfast with Dave is often the same length as my weekly letters, and he writes it every working day.

Dave’s December 29 issue of Breakfast with Dave was a tour de force on world markets, which I can’t possibly summarize and do any justice to the original, so I’ll cut straight to his conclusion.

In other words, expect a year where volatility re-emerges as an investable theme, after spending much of 2017 so dormant that you have to go back to the mid-1960s to find the last annual period of such an eerie calm – look for some mean reversion on this file in the coming year. This actually would be a good thing in terms of opening up some buying opportunities, but taking advantage of these opportunities will require having some dry powder on hand.

In terms of our highest conviction calls, given that we are coming off the 101 month anniversary of this economic cycle, the third longest ever and almost double what is normal, it is safe to say that we are pretty late in the game. The question is just how late. We did some research looking at an array of market and macro variables and concluded that we are about 90% through, which means we are somewhere past the 7th inning stretch in baseball parlance but not yet at the bottom of the 9th. The high-conviction message here is that we have entered a phase of the cycle in which one should be very mindful of risk, bolstering the quality of the portfolio, and focusing on strong balance sheets, minimal refinancing risk and companies with high earnings visibility and predictability, and low correlations to U.S. GDP. In other words, the exact opposite of how to be positioned in the early innings of the cycle where it is perfectly appropriate to be extremely pro-cyclical.

So it’s either about investing around late-cycle thematics in North America or it is about heading to other geographies that are closer to mid-cycle — and that would include Europe, segments of the Emerging Market space where the fundamentals have really improved, and also Japan. These markets are not only mid-cycle, and as such have a longer runway for growth, but also trade relatively inexpensively in a world where value is scarce.

Dave gives us some geographic focus, and it’s mostly outside the US and Canada. He likes Europe, Japan, and some emerging market countries because they are earlier in the cycle.

He’s certainly right on that point, though I think we may differ on how long the cycle can persist. The past doesn’t predict the future.

For the record, in my own portfolio design, we are about 50% non-US equities. My managers are finding lots of opportunities outside of the US.

Byron Wien: “Ten Surprises” List

We’ll wrap up today with an annual tradition: Byron Wien’s annual “Ten Surprises” list.

It always causes me a little cognitive dissonance because by definition you can’t “expect” a surprise. That aside, Byron’s list is always a useful thought exercise. Here it is.

1. China finally decides that a nuclear capability in the hands of an unpredictable leader on its border is not tolerable even though North Korea is a communist buffer between itself and democratic South Korea. China cuts off all fuel and food shipments to North Korea, which agrees to suspend its nuclear development program but not give up its current weapons arsenal.

2. Populism, tribalism and anarchy spread around the world. In the United Kingdom Jeremy Corbyn becomes the next Prime Minister. In spite of repressive action by the Spanish government, Catalonia remains turbulent. Despite the adverse economic consequences of the Brexit vote, the unintended positive consequence is that it brings continental Europe closer together with more economic cooperation and faster growth.

3. The dollar finally comes to life. Real growth exceeds 3% in the United States, which, coupled with the implementation of some components of the Trump pro-business agenda, renews investor interest in owning dollar-denominated assets, and the euro drops to 1.10 and the yen to 120 against the dollar.  Repatriation of foreign profits held abroad by U.S. companies helps.  

4. The U.S. economy has a better year than 2017, but speculation reaches an extreme and ultimately the S&P 500 has a 10% correction. The index drops toward 2300, partly because of higher interest rates, but ends the year above 3000 since earnings continue to expand and economic growth heads toward 4%. 

5. The price of West Texas Intermediate Crude moves above $80. The price rises because of continued world growth and unexpected demand from developing markets, together with disappointing hydraulic fracking production, diminished inventories, OPEC discipline and only modest production increases from Russia, Nigeria, Venezuela, Iraq and Iran.

6. Inflation becomes an issue of concern. Continued world GDP growth puts pressure on commodity prices. Tight labor markets in the industrialized countries create wage increases. In the United States, average hourly earnings gains approach 4% and the Consumer Price Index pushes above 3%.

7. With higher inflation, interest rates begin to rise. The Federal Reserve increases short-term rates four times in 2018 and the 10-year U.S. Treasury yield moves toward 4%, but the Fed shrinks its balance sheet only modestly because of the potential impact on the financial markets. High yield spreads widen, causing concern in the equity market.

8. Both NAFTA and the Iran agreement endure in spite of Trump railing against them. Too many American jobs would be lost if NAFTA ended, and our allies universally support continuing the Iran agreement. Trump begins to think that not signing on to the Trans-Pacific Partnership was a mistake as he sees the rise of China’s influence around the world.  He presses for more bilateral trade deals in Asia.

9. The Republicans lose control of both the Senate and the House of Representatives in the November election. Voters feel disappointed that many promises made during Trump’s presidential campaign were not implemented in legislation and there is a growing negative reaction to his endless Tweets. The mid-term election turns out to be a referendum on the Trump Presidency.

10. Xi Jinping, having broadened his authority at the 19th Party Congress in October, focuses on China’s credit problems and decides to limit business borrowing even if it means slowing the economy down and creating fewer jobs. Real GDP growth drops to 5.5%, with only minor implications for world growth. Xi proclaims this move will ensure the sustainability of China’s growth over the long term.

(https://www.blackstone.com/media/press-releases/byron-wien-announces-ten-surprises-for-2018)

Whatever your predisposition, there’s plenty to both like and dislike in there. On #7, I think 10-year Treasury bonds at 4% or more will look like the end of the world to younger folks.

It’s been more than a decade since we saw any such thing, and at that point they were falling, not rising. But if he’s correct that CPI pushes over 3%, then bond yields have to rise.

Personally, I think I would take the other side of that bet. I think the yield on the 10-year actually has a chance to fall.

On another note: If Byron is right that “speculation reaches an extreme,” the resulting correction will be a lot deeper than 10%. I don’t think we are there yet and probably won’t reach that point in 2018. But we will get there eventually.  

All right, my stack of New Year’s predictions is barely any smaller, but we’ll stop here and pick up next week in Thoughts from the Frontline.

Join hundreds of thousands of other readers of Thoughts from the Frontline

Sharp macroeconomic analysis, big market calls, and shrewd predictions are all in a week’s work for visionary thinker and acclaimed financial expert John Mauldin. Since 2001, investors have turned to his Thoughts from the Frontline to be informed about what’s really going on in the economy. Join hundreds of thousands of readers, and get it free in your inbox every week.

[sciencespies]

The Dynamics Have Changed But The Amazon Is Absolutely Being Deforested

https://sciencespies.com/news/the-dynamics-have-changed-but-the-amazon-is-absolutely-being-deforested/

The Dynamics Have Changed But The Amazon Is Absolutely Being Deforested

The head of the National Space Research Institute (INPE), essentially Brazil’s version of NASA, was relieved of his duties this week. It wasn’t because of a scandal or financial mismanagement. Numerous media reports claim that it was simply because leaders of the country didn’t like what his agency’s satellite data was showing about deforestation in the Amazon rainforest. I will pause and give you a few moments to digest what I just wrote. Dom Phillips wrote in The Guardian this week,

“Bolsonaro (the Brazilian recently elected President) and has ministers have called its release irresponsible and an attempt to stain Brazil’s image abroad. Last month he called INPE numbers “lies” and implied that Galvão was in “the service” of a foreign non-profit group.”

If the assertions are true, this is very disturbing. I am a scientist so will not get into the rumors and politics behind the firing. However, I do want to affirm that other satellite data consistently show deforestation in Amazonia even as its dynamics are changing.

AMAZON, BRAZIL JULY 29, 2017: Large deforestation surrounds the Parakana Indigenous Reserve in the Brazilian State of Para, Northern Region of Brazil. (Photo by Gallo Images / USGS / NASA Landsat data / Orbital Horizon)

Getty Images

The Brazilian Real Time System for Detection of Deforestation (DETER) is a satellite-based system. According to the Climate Policy Initiative website it:

“enables frequent and quick identification of deforestation hot spots, greatly enhanced monitoring and targeting capacity, making it easier for law enforcers to act upon areas with illegal deforestation activity. This improvement in monitoring and law enforcement was the main driver of the 2000s deforestation slowdown.”

According to the Brazilian Space agency, data show dramatic increases in deforestation in recent months, but apparently some officials “disagree.” According to a CBS News report, it is estimate that roughly 20% of the original Amazon has succumbed to deforestation due to industrial agriculture activities. Though the pace had slowed some in recent decades, environmental groups have also confirmed DETER observations, an uptick in increased deforestation. A 2016 report released by INPE warned that deforestation increased by 29% that year though that number was still lower than rates in 2004. In an analysis published at a Yale University environmental website, ecologist Philip Fearnside presented data from INPE revealing that an area of the Amazon roughly the size of France has been deforested as of 2016 (see graphic here).

The image above from 2017 is from the Landsat satellite. It shows a large area of deforestation surrounding the Parking Indigenous Reserve in the Brazilian state of Para. Landsat is a satellite program developed by NASA and operated by the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS). This satellite program along with numerous other platforms operated by the United States and other counties have improved monitoring of deforestation significantly in recent years. Approximately 184 square kilometers of the Amazon were lost in 2017 according to The Institute of Man and the Environment of the Amazon (Imazon). That number exceeded losses in 2016. Sue Palminteri, writing in the Mongabay Online notes, “The massive increase reflects Brazil’s use of a more accurate satellite monitoring system that incorporates radar, which can see land cover at night and through clouds, and suggests prior deforestation rates were likely underestimates.”

Deforestation as measured by ESA Proba-V minisatellite. The image, released in 2014, shoes deforestation in Rondônia, western Brazil.

European Space Agency

Her point is valid. In the United States, improved Doppler radar technology refined observation in tornadoes over the past few years. I suspect improved technology is contributing to deforestation assessments. For this reason, there is no reason to trust recent analysis from INPE. Additionally, Landsat, MODIS, and other satellite observations have a pretty robust and lengthy data records too.

Additionally, a 2018 study published in Nature Scientific Reports found that the dynamics of Amazon deforestation are changing:

There is more of a shift from Brazil to Peru and Bolivia.

Large clearings have declined but smaller scale clearings have increased.

Small-scale low density forest loss increased significantly in recent years.

The picture below was taken from the International Space Station over Bolivia. The astronaut snapped the shot in 2018. For comparison, click on the link here to see the same region over 15 years ago.

A recent Pew survey found that scientists are considered the most trusted profession y the public. This is an encouraging result since science is based on data and observations and should not bend to opinions and policy. While scientific data should be scrutinized, the beauty of modern science is that we have multiple ways (and data) to analyze the problem. We don’t have to rely on just Brazilian satellites to measure Amazonian deforestation. Cas Mudde is the Stanley Wade Shelton UGAF Professor of International Affairs at the University of Georgia and one of the foremost experts in the world on far-right politics. My colleague sent me a message to ponder in closing:

“Traditionally the far right has been sympathetic to environmentalist claims, believing that flora and fauna are integral parts of the nation, but new conservative-far right hybrids in the U.S. and Brazil see them as a commodity to be bought and sold.”

Agricultural patterns in Bolivia. Photograph was taken in 2018 from aboard the International Space Station.

NASA

#News

[adrielfaigal]

Knowing Thyself

It is important to know our true selves before entering the workplace. We need to consider our own interest in choosing the degree we take in college and eventually the career who would be spending our time and effort for the rest of our life.

I took three tests in order to see which characteristics are evident on me and could define what is the right job for myself in the future.

 The first test which is the MBTI test revealed that I am an advocate which I can agree on. My imagination and curiosity makes me different from others. I used my creativity to think of unusual ways to solve problems. In making decisions of what to choose as an option, I would prefer to take the long curvy road rather than the short straight path because I think that it could offer me more learning than taking up the simple one. I am passionate person that always want to do my best in every action I do. I believe that I should practice honesty all the time in my every motive I take.

The recommended careers from the info-graphics do not fully appeal with my interest because I am a person who wants to try something new and does not only stick under my comfort zone.  The jobs presented although offer people to be more in control or exercise power but it lacks flexibility and has the difficulty for me to find the real meaning behind it. One job mentioned is being a social worker. Being a social worker is just okay for me but does not bring 100% satisfaction to me as an employee.

My knowledge of my personality type would help me in becoming one of successful business leaders in the future by guiding me how to filter and use only delectable characteristics in the workplace . It would also teach me which characteristics should I improve on to become a better leader in the future. By knowing more my capabilities I can manage to perform the tasks assigned to me very well to contribute to the organizations objective to achieve its organizational goals

 The results of the two test I took somewhat contradicts each other. The first test implied that I am more of an introvert than an extrovert while the second test showed that I possess a high percentage of extroversion. I agree more on the first test rather than the second because I consider myself more as a more reserve person and will find time to adjust with a certain group.  My extroversion comes in I think when I’m with my close friends and people that I share with the same interest.

The Big Five Personality Test results

Extroversion-  I tend to initiate conversations with my close friends. I would love to appear approachable more to people for me to start building relationships that is essential to achieve better communication with my co-workers in the future.

Emotional Stability- I scored almost half of the percentage in the test. Something I need to work on in my opinion is to avoid listening to negative comments of people about my actions. I need to listen rather with what myself is telling me to do, to satisfy my interest by learning things that I really want.

Intellect/Imagination- I scored low on the other hand for Intellectual may be because I am afraid sometimes to take risk , to invest in learning something which I think is not under the area of my expertise.

All in all I consider myself as an ambivert person. I appear some time as introvert and extrovert in certain situations. This is something I need to work on as I enter the workplace, I need to be able to easily adapt to a company’s culture in order to build good relationship with them as we work towards the same goal for the organization

The results of my MBTI and the Big 5 tests are not consistent. MBTI test measures more deeper characteristics of me as a person while the Big 5 tests only identified the general ones. One reason why it became inconsistent would be because The Big 5 tests only give views of the top characteristics needed in the workplace and not like MBTI test which measures each good or bad characteristics of me as an individual both in home and in work.

The test does gave additional insights on my personality traits. It revealed that I have some extroverted characteristics on me and that I am careful when it comes in creating decisions.

 The definition of my profile is consistent with what I know about myself. I am the person who loves the art of music. I have a talent in signing which I can share to people to inspire them and can also share to myself in times where I need something that would make me smile during difficult situations.  I also agree that I am investigative/curious when I would not feel okay until I see a possible solution to a problem.

I expected that I would score low on the realistic component since I do not enjoy that much doing activities that require a lot of physical effort.  I disagree on the other hand with me being low in the social component.  Yes I might be an introvert but does not mean I do not want to interact at work. What  I only do not like is the idea of being a teacher  in school and it does not include restricting myself in interacting with a group of individuals to achieve the same goals.

And lastly as a business major the Enterprising  component showed how business minded I am. It showed my interest in management and investment

It is correlated with the Conventional competent where  it revealed my  true possession of leadership skills. I want to take in charge in every tasks assigned to me and would be willing to put all my effort to teach and guide others

The third test that I took is the R-I-A-S-E-C tests .Jobs from the R-I-A-S-E-C profile that interest me are astronomers, cost estimators. I was fascinated with geography and astrology since I was a child and I also love to assume probabilities and forecast what could happen in certain situations.

Jobs that I am capable of doing could be database administrators and cost estimators from the Job Zone Four: High preparation needed.

I think everyone of us can achieve a fulfilling career as long as we pick the job that we have interest in and we will not be influenced by  other people’s opinion/want.

I agree with the comparison between my level of introversion and extroversion. It showed that I scored less in social aspect profile and that serving people through teaching or giving advice is not under the area of expertise/ not my strength as an individual.

The last test that I took which is the Self-Stir Assessment made me realize that both self and other people’s assessment can help a person identify things he/she can improve on. An individual’s drive to improve is considered as the main ingredient to be an excellent employee. Our co-workers, friends, and managers may be there to give words of encouragement, suggestions and instructions, but the final say to execute the action is in our hands.

My greatest strength could be the ability to initiate my teammates to do their part in a groupwork. I always have that practice to ask my teammates of their own strengths and weaknesses to identify which tasks could be better assigned to them.   My weakness on the other hand could be my inability to express my thoughts  in a concise way where my groupmates can easily understand the plan I want them to execute.

Other people’s rating is a big help for me to become a better person. In my case, am not full surprised of their impression of me because it somehow almost the same as I self assessed myself.

The 360 assessment is an important practice in the workplace because it helps people be full aware of their image in the workplace. It helps the group to avoid misunderstanding with each other as they continue to build good relationship as they work as one system for the company.

Lastly, the self-stir assessment could help me become an effective leader by being informed of what I am look like as a leader for my subordinates.By having an idea then of my performance, I can adjust my behaviour and improve my weaknesses as I take lead the group in achieving our objectives. 

[area2newsviews]

A Quest for Excellence

2ND QUARTER 2017 PROGRESS REPORT

Congratulations to all of our families, teachers, staff members and, especially, STUDENTS! on the successful completion of the 2016-17 school year. For the third consecutive year, I had the honor of shaking the hand of every graduating senior from Lincoln High School and every promoting 8th grader from Burnett and Hoover Middle Schools. Lots of smiles and lots of hand sanitizer were involved.

What follows are several highlights from the past quarter, as well as some looks ahead at our next challenges and opportunities:

LCAP: On June 22, the board approved the Local Control and Accountability Plan (LCAP) for the 2017-18 school year. The LCAP was reviewed and received input through a series of surveys, district committee meetings, public town hall presentations and leadership team conversations. The LCAP guides the spending of funds in pursuit of the objectives agreed upon through the foregoing process. Our focus will remain on

hiring, supporting and retaining high quality staff

improving student performance on the key performance measures:

3rd Grade Reading - all students at grade level

8th Grade Algebra - successful completion of course

Honors/IB/AP high school classes - more students successfully completing courses and passing advanced placement and international baccalaureate exams

Promoting healthy school climates and expanding communication and engagement efforts

Fiscal responsibility and efficient, effective, mission-driven spending

Demographic Study: Our board recently held a public study session to review the student population projections from 2017 - 2023 based on Fall 2016 data. The short version is that over the next several years, our district will see smaller incoming classes replacing larger graduating classes. 

Fall 2016 (actual) 30,283 TK - 12 students

Fall 2023 (projected) 26,739 TK - 12 students

Middle school population is expected to be reduced by 19%

High school population is expected to be reduced by 15%

Budget Update: Although funding has increased by nearly 11% over the past decade, the district expenses (predominantly related to pension benefits) have increased exponentially higher, resulting in overall decreased funding from ten years ago. The following table illuminates some of the major budget changes and helps to explain why fewer dollars are available to spend on students than a decade ago.

What does all of this mean? It means that our board is going to have to make some very tough decisions in the coming months and years: how can we reduce those expenses that aren't state mandated? How can we run more efficiently without sacrificing quality instruction or classroom experience?Community voices will be essential in making these decisions - please attend board meetings, share your thoughts and be a part of the process. We must do right by every single student.

Finally, in my continued commitment to engagement and transparency, what follows is my assessment of the developments in the 5 areas that defined my "Quest for Excellence" in my 2014 campaign for this office.

P.S. My Facebook is updated regularly and is the easiest way to stay current with Area 2 news!

PUBLIC ENGAGEMENT

HESTER SCHOOL UPDATE: I'm delighted to share that as of May 30, 2017 the construction and landscaping work at the Hester School campus was completed (other than the Kaboom! sponsored play structure). Since that time, we've seen an increase in the number of people bringing their children and pets to the field and, most excitingly, a crush of requests by local youth leagues to reserve the field for weekend soccer games! It is very gratifying to be able to expand the open space resources that are available to youth. Other details:

Total cost and source of funds: $3.2M, funded by State Bond Fund Reimbursements (Prop 1D from 2006) and Routine Maintenance

Number of parking spots at Hester available to Lenzen office staff: 78 (This includes the long, narrow lot along Lenzen and the smaller, rectangular lot off Pershing. There's a lit walkway along the edge of the property for access to the Pershing Lot from Lenzen.)

As a result of moving staff parking further from the Lenzen office, we've created 54 spots at Lenzen for visitors/Enrollment Center. All SJUSD family services are now consolidated under one roof!

CIVIC ENGAGEMENT WORKS and student (and other stakeholder) voices matter! Two years ago, our district began a process of creating all gender bathrooms at our high schools in response to the advocacy of a group of  Abraham Lincoln High School students. Last year, a student from Pioneer High School (San Jose, California) spoke before the board about our dress code regulations and advocated for a revised policy that is more gender neutral. At our last board meeting, a new policy was adopted: one that promotes a respectful environment but does not single out all GIRLS as being responsible for ensuring that all BOYS are not distracted. View the new policy here.

SCHOOL LINKED SERVICES

Summer means fun for many kids ... for others it brings a worry about replacing the meals our school district provides during the school year. The SCCOE is here to help! Find a location here

Resources for Immigrant Families

The ongoing challenge for families and employees to find affordable housing: As Bay Area population rises many longtime Californians move out (KTVU) Read more

CHARTER AND NEIGHBORHOOD SCHOOL COLLABORATION

I wrote a lengthy post on our board's recent denial of two charter petitions. A tremendous amount of conversation and commentary was generated around these decisions, including by many who hadn't read the petitions. When considering the approval of a new school, it is not sufficient to EITHER approve or deny the petition on the superficial level that "it is a charter school" -- it is important to approach each petition on its individual merits, to look closely at the demonstrated interest by eligible families, the quality of the educational model and the capacity of the leaders to deliver on their intentions. Read more here.

Superintendent Albarran, Deputy Superintendent McMahon, several school board trustees and charter school directors convened at the County Office of Education on June 20 to explore opportunities for meaningful collaboration between charter schools and traditional school districts. One of the points of discussion was around potential legislation to protect school districts from "over saturation" by charter schools and the importance of a County- or even region- wide approach.

STUDENT SAFETY

The physical and emotional safety of all of our students, as well as all of the adults, on our campuses is of paramount importance. Particularly in light of the current political climate, we need to be particularly vigilant in guarding against speech or action that could be described as motivated by prejudice, bias or discrimination against any group of people. I encourage staff members, parents and students to speak up if they feel unsafe or targeted for any reason. Almost all of us are feeling vulnerable and need to have one another's backs.

Check out SJUSDs dedicated Immigration Services page

See here for important Teen Dating Violence resources

Kids of all ages are swiping and scrolling, totally transfixed by screens of all sizes. Welcome to the new frontier of parenting. If you have questions on how to take control of, or at least keep up with, the technology in your kids' lives, check out Common Sense Media.

PROFESSIONAL DEVELOPMENT...ins’t just for teachers!

This summer, 55 high school students from San José Unified will be placed in paid, hands-on internships with Silicon Valley companies in a variety of fields, from science and technology to building trades, retail and communications. This new program, developed out of a partnership with Strive San Jose, a program of The Silicon Valley Organization, and the work2future seeks to provide career exploration opportunities to our students while they earn money during the summer vacation.

BEYOND THE BOARDROOM

Many of my personal efforts serve to inform my role as a trustee, build relationships, and think strategically about how best to improve outcomes for all SJUSD students. I am actively participating in a number of projects related to education policy and social justice:

Santa Clara County Civics Education Initiative:  I am part of a leadership team that is convening 100 community leaders in education, public service and funding to talk about the importance of expanding civics education opportunities for our K-12 students and moving toward the development of one or more programs to serve this need. In my view, civics education must include the following 3 elements:

The study of how government works at every level, the responsibilities of city county, state and federal government, and the importance of building relationships in order to increase access.

The development of empathic skills leading to engagement in civil discourse: respectful conversation among people who disagree, not for the purpose of persuading another person to change her view but of understanding what circumstances, ideas and information led to the formation of that view.

An understanding of the world of information: how does one evaluate the validity or authenticity of information heard, seen, read or otherwise encountered.

Leadership San Jose Academy: In my role as Senior Director of Community Development for The Silicon Valley Organization, I am in the process of building a 9 session civic engagement program for high school juniors. The plan is to roll this out for SJUSD students for the 2017-18 school year. Participation will be by application and the program will meet Mon - Wed during the October, March and April school breaks. Stay tuned for the plan to become a reality; more information will be available at that time.

[seriouslyhooked]

Wedded Bliss and Asterisks (A Modern CS AU) Part 9/?

Emma Swan is an enemy of love who just happens to be an up and coming wedding dress designer. She’s convinced that a fairytale kind of romance is nowhere in her future but when she meets Killian Jones, whose magazine is covering the opening of her new boutique, things change. Suddenly Emma finds herself drawing up new plans for her life, ones that seem to all be leading towards her own form of wedded bliss. Rated M.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven. Part Eight. Also on FF Here.

A/N: Hey all! This chapter brings us some big steps. First and foremost, it signals the publication of Killian’s article. In the aftermath of that we get even more fluff and some smut for good measure. This chapter is all from Emma’s POV, but no worries, Killian’s will be back next chapter. I hope you guys enjoy and thanks for reading!

Humming to herself lightly on Monday morning, Emma sat in her office sketching at random. The images she drew on the page weren’t thought out dresses or objects, but a variety of swirling designs. Emma was too lost in the memories of the past weekend to create anything specialized right now and instead she let herself linger in the same happy mood she’d had the past few days while her pencil dragged across the page of its own free will.

It was so easy to give into this joyful state given the way things were right now, and that feeling of comfort and rightness changed the way Emma engaged with her morning so far. She’d gotten up bright and early after a somewhat restless night without Killian. There was a tangible difference between the quality of sleep she’d had Saturday compared to last night, but the tension and fatigue all melted away when she met him on the train this morning:

“I think we might have a real problem, love.” Killian claimed in the middle of their ride.

“Oh?” Emma asked, not worrying about whatever he was about to say thanks to the warm look in his cerulean eyes and the gentle feel of his hand in hers.

“I may very well never sleep easy again without you there beside me. You’ve ruined me for normal nights.”

In the face of such a sweet remark, Emma pulled Killian in closer for a kiss right there in the train car. It was light and relatively reserved, but it still left both of them smiling at each other. If she was an outsider looking in Emma likely would poke fun at two people making eyes at each other, but it felt too good to pull back from.

“I think we can probably arrange another night together sooner rather than later,” Emma said, her thumb running back and forth against his in a soothing motion.

“I’m thrilled to hear it, Swan. In fact, that might be the only thing that gets me through the day.”

From there things moved too quickly, and they pulled into Emma’s stop before much more could happen, agreeing to see each other soon. Emma then arrived at Bliss at her normal time and through some lucky happenstance none of her friends were directly in her path once she passed through the front doors. Emma bee-lined for her office after a bit of conversation with Tiana and now here she was, sketching and daydreaming before her appointments for the day came through. But though she’d deftly managed to avoid her friends up to this point, Emma knew it was only a matter of time before they…

A knock sounded at the door as if Emma willed her friends into appearing and she smiled as she told whoever it was to come inside. Immediately Ruby, Mary Margaret, and Elsa filed into the room, shutting the door behind them quickly and all setting their gazes on Emma intently.

“So…?” Mary Margaret prompted and Emma feigned ignorance.

“So, what?”

“Okay, enough of the act, Emma. You are giving us answers and you’re giving them now. We want a damn play-by-play already. No more coy diversions. What did you do this weekend?”

Emma looked at her three friends for another beat before caving and giving them the answers that they wanted. Some of her moments with Killian she protected, keeping details close to the vest so that they could stay private and just between she and him. However, her friends were more than held over with what Emma did impart. By the end of her summary they were practically beside themselves, allowing their excitement to bubble over into an almost ridiculous level of giddiness.

“He took you to the Gardens? How did Killian even know about your going there all the time?” Elsa asked, and Emma shook her head.

“He didn’t. It was a coincidence. He thought I’d like to go and he was right. He just didn’t realize I’d been doing so for a while.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you enjoyed yourself more than you usually do?” Mary Margaret countered and Emma shrugged.

“Because I did,” Emma confirmed. Elsa and Mary Margaret both sighed happily in the face of Emma’s comment, and surprisingly Emma didn’t feel an active need to roll her eyes. Damn, clearly she was in pretty deep if she was taking the heat like this and not actively retreating from it.

“So in this little weekend-long love fest, did you find out anything else about the article?” Ruby asked.

“Nope. He was pretty tight-lipped, but I don’t think there’s any reason to doubt what it’s going to say. I trust Killian and I know whatever he wrote is going to be great.”

The silence that followed Emma’s assessment, coupled with the slack-jawed gapes from Mary Margaret and Elsa made Emma slightly uncomfortable for the first time in the past few days. She shifted in her chair a little before finally asking them what was wrong.

“Nothing it’s just… you’re letting him in,” Mary Margaret said, clearly stunned but thrilled at the prospect, and from the nodding of Ruby and Elsa, Emma assumed they were all thinking along the same lines.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Emma asked, already anticipating their reply.

“No!” Her friends all yelled at the same time.

“It’s a great thing - totally great - but also not a big deal. Just you know, good, but not necessary. Like we’re happy for you, but we are managing expectations,” Elsa’s incoherent ramblings were something Emma had run into before, and she had mercy on her friend who lacked any ability to play a situation cool.

“It’s alright, Elsa, I’m not going to freak out. You can act natural,” Emma said and Elsa immediately sagged in relief.

“Oh thank God. I was barely holding it together,”

“Ya think?” Ruby asked but before she could give Elsa too much crap, another knock came at the doorway and Tiana appeared with a sly smile.

“You’ve got a delivery, boss.”

Emma accepted the box Tiana extended towards her trying hard not to blush as her friends oohed and ahhed about the parcel they all assumed was from Killian. It was a soft cream color, with matching white ribbon to tie it closed, and there in the bow was another rose. The blossom contrasted beautifully with the rest of the box and Emma immediately removed it, putting it in a safe spot on the edge of her desk. She was dying to open this package and see what lay inside, but when Emma tried to wait for her friends to leave, they all remained just where they were, Tiana included.

“Seriously guys?” Emma asked.

“Seriously,” Ruby replied. Emma shook her head smiling at her friends’ persistence as she opened the box up and found five copies of this week’s Citizen NY that wasn’t supposed to be out until the next day. Attached was a small note from Killian that made Emma chuckle lightly.

If anyone asks, these fell off the back of the truck. -Killian

“Jackpot! Knew there was another definite plus of you sleeping with the writer,” Ruby mused.

“Ruby!” Emma yelled and her friend grinned as she stole four of the copies and distributed them to the others.

“What? You said he stayed the night so I’m not wrong.” Ruby must have read Emma’s intent to set the record straight so she made one last claim in an attempt to deflect. “Plus you know the longer you fight with me, the longer you have to wait to see what he said, right?”

Well with an argument like that, how could Emma disagree? Instead of doing so she frantically flipped to the story on a page that Elsa yelled out, having found it first and then dove into the spread.

The most prominent part at first was a picture of the four of them. They all looked happy and effortless, but it was a candid shot, one captured not when they’d all been paying attention but when they were working on something together without realizing the camera was turned their way. Emma vaguely remembered the moment, but she hadn’t realized Killian was paying attention. That whole day with the photographer, he was there with a vision, leading the cameraman towards the shots he wanted, and if this was the indication of what they’d reaped in that time, Emma and her friends were in for a treat.

“Oh my gosh this picture is perfect.”

Emma didn’t need to look up to know Mary Margaret would be teary eyed. Her love for the image was clear in her tone of voice and where Mary Margaret’s love came, happy tears often followed. Emma made a mental note to ask Killian if there was any chance they could get a digital copy of the photo. Mary Margaret would definitely want it, and any others that they might have gotten.

“Jeez, all of them are, look at this!” Elsa said excitedly, pointing at a picture the next page over with her and her latest cake creation. “And he even included my nickname. Major brownie points.”

“Even I make a cameo, and wow do we look good,” Tiana teased, pointing to a picture of her and Emma both considering one of Emma’s sketches, lost in their mutual train of thought.

“Okay, so how are we doing this?” Ruby asked and the friends looked at her for clarity. “We reading it together or silently devouring it alone?”

Mary Margaret made the decision for them all when she began reading the opening line.

‘With an estimated eighty thousand weddings happening in New York City last year alone, it’s clear that, despite popular opinion, finding love in the city of New York is possible.

‘Now, saying that doesn’t change the fact that two in five New Yorkers polled doubt the existence of true love, or that roughly fifty percent of your neighbors has a harrowing tale of love lost and heartbreak they’ll share with you while stealing your morning paper or causing a racket at all hours of the night. But it does lend a bit of hope in a city that could always stand for some more of it.’

“Wow he’s pretty good,” Elsa mused happily and Emma bit back her plea for them all to keep the commentary to themselves. She was desperate to read ahead, but for the sake of her friends she held back. Thankfully, Ruby pushed onwards, taking over the reading.

‘New York to many is known as the city of dreams. Some come here to live, to thrive, to flourish, others to fade away or perish all together. That’s the beauty of this city. Time spins on, new heroes rise and fall, some make it and some don’t, but the dreams remain all the same. Yet for four women on the corner of 4th and 71st street, New York is more than a place to build on a long cherished hope; it’s the site of an experiment with a model of love few (if any) have ever tried before - a one-stop shop for wedded bliss.

‘Matrimonial harmony is hardly a guarantee, but to Ruby Lucas, Mary Margaret Blanchard, Elsa Dellaford, and Emma Swan of Bliss Boutique in the Upper East Side, which opened it’s doors earlier this month, it’s a launching point, both in the lives of their clients and for a business they’ve all been building for over a year.’

Elsa took over the reading at this point, interrupting Ruby’s narration when she recognized the first quote in the story as one of hers.

‘You could say that Bliss is the culmination of one too many bowls of egg-free cookie dough,’ Dellaford states proudly when asked about the origins of such a scheme. ‘The idea first came to us a few years back. All of us were running ragged at our starter jobs, wishing we were back in the comfortable bubble of undergrad when we realized that our dream jobs didn’t just include our chosen industries, but closeness to each other too. That got us thinking – was there a way for all four of us to do what we love surrounded by the people who mean the most to us?’

“Oh Elsa, that’s so sweet,” Mary Margaret claimed, the tears now streaming down her face.

“Just wait. I say more nice stuff, I swear,” everyone shared a laugh as Elsa read on, proving herself right.

At the same time, Emma was glued to every word, soaking in the flattering picture that Killian presented not only of her friends, but of their work here. He seemed to understand what their vision was at the end of all of this, and it was amazing to read his words and have this window into what he truly thought. Though her friends were the ones reading, Emma swore she heard Killian’s voice in every syllable, and she was filled with butterflies and happiness all at once by the time the story got to her. Without needing to interrupt anyone, Emma picked up the narration aloud.

‘Though the dynamic of this shared venture is the unit of four pillars and four women devoted to one heart-felt and thoughtful wedding assembly line, perhaps the easiest sell for Bliss Boutique to women in the market for a wedding comes in the form of it’s designer, rising star Emma Swan…’

Emma trailed off, forgetting to speak and letting herself sink further into the words. Thankfully her friends didn’t push her to do anything else but there were the occasional comments that flittered in along with Killian’s words.

“Oh my god are you kidding me?! Elie Saab called you inspired, daring, and ‘one of the most romantic designers in the industry right now.’ That’s insane!” Elsa exclaimed.

“And so totally true,” Ruby countered before tossing her own comment on the article Killian had put forth. “But wow, Elie really holds back compared to Monique: ‘I don’t think I knew design envy until I saw my first E. Swan original.’”

Emma moved forward, tracking the details Killian had so intricately woven together. Her past was glossed over, though there was a mention of her being brought up in the system. It was by no means the focal point though, and if anything, Emma found herself reading a piece about her amazing talent that shone a light on her while also bringing her friends up with it. 

This story felt like validation in the purest form, and it was mixed with humor, a bit of teasing about some elements of this line of work, and a final quote of Emma’s that she was so happy he’d included. She thought it would get lost in everything else, but that message, that one that said people were in charge of their own happy endings, and that she and her friends were just here to help them make it for themselves, meant the world. It was a sure sign that Killian not only knew what she was trying to do here, but that he knew her too. This whole article was a love letter of sorts, and it left Emma almost speechless, caught as she was in his talent, kindness, and tremendous insights.

And then at the end, with two small asterisks, there was the line she’d been waiting to see for days now. What it said was basic enough, and would no doubt work for his other readers, but for Emma, it held so much more in it’s intricate depths:

**In the spirit of full-disclosure with out readers, Killian Jones has a steadily increasing romantic attachment to one of the subjects of this story. This fact did not, however, influence the tone or findings of this piece, even if he finds Emma Swan to be beyond enchanting and far too good for him.

“Wow. That was…” Mary Margaret began, pulling Emma from where she was running her fingertips along the disclosure line.

“That was freaking fantastic!” Ruby said assuredly. “Like ‘turn a major profit in our first year because we are never going to have free schedules’ kind of fantastic!”

Her friends tossed their excited analysis of the piece back and forth, and Emma was only vaguely aware of what was said. She was too caught up in this story, and in the man who’d made it possible. This all started as a mistake – something Emma actually worried might pull her and Killian apart before they really got a chance to see if there was anything between them. She’d rationalized that while her friends had good intentions, they’d jeopardized a fledgling relationship that was too fragile to bear that kind of burden. Now though, she saw that they’d really given her a gift.

To have this piece by Killian, to have this truth he’d offered to her and to thousands of people across the city, was amazing. She’d never had a man so publicly announce his admiration for her, and she’d never let anyone in enough for their opinions on who she was and what her dreams were to matter. But with Killian it did matter, and Emma was so relieved to see more proof of the man he was, the man who was quickly taking up space in her heart that she once believed would forever be empty.

“Emma?” Elsa asked and Emma’s eyes moved up from the pages of the magazine back to her friends. They were all looking at her expectantly and in that moment Emma knew what she had to do. She stood up and grabbed her jacket quickly from the hanger by the door.

“I have to go,” Emma said, without any more information and then she turned to Tiana. “Ti, can you handle the first appointment? Even just the first twenty minutes?”

“No problem,” Tiana responded happily and Emma grinned.

“Go get him, girl!” Ruby yelled after her and Emma intended to do just that.

Only before she could manage to get farther than sidewalk just beyond the front door, Emma was shocked to find the man she was looking for already here, waiting for her. He was pacing out front, looking more than a little concerned, but after a moment Killian glanced her way and all his attention was turned towards her.

“Emma?” He uttered her name as if unable to believe that she was really there.

“What are you doing here?” Emma asked, thrilled at the fact that the wait to see him was over.

“Losing my bloody mind? I don’t know, love, I was worried and I wanted to be here, for better or worse. I -,”

Emma could see the lingering uncertainty in Killian’s eyes, and since he wasn’t able to read from just her expression that she loved his story, she tried to show him another way. She brought him down for a kiss out there right in front of her store and showed him beyond the shadow of any doubt that she wasn’t going anywhere, and that he didn’t have to worry about her being mad, or scared, or anything of the like.

This kiss was just like their first, and every once since. It was sweetness itself, pushing the limits, hinting at more and making Emma crave a closeness they couldn’t actually have right now. For years Emma had been told about kisses like this one, but they were only supposed to happen in romance movies or in the pages of storybooks. Yet here they were, making a moment that Emma knew blew any of those fictionalized ones out of the water, because this was real. She and Killian were real and Emma truly hoped that this feeling they’d found in each other never went away.

“So how bad is the damage?” Emma asked, when she finally pulled back, her breathing slightly labored, and her body humming with desire that couldn’t be fully sated right now.

“The damage?” Killian asked, his eyes blinking open just a second too late for him to pretend to be totally collected. Emma smiled, running her hand along his chest and enjoying the sped up pace of his heartbeat against her fingertips.

“At work. You just left your post to stand here and wait for me. I’m assuming you’re missing something.”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you, Emma. Whatever it is, it doesn’t compare to this anyway.” 

Emma’s heart tripped happily at that, and she tilted her head back up to try and kiss him again when she heard a sudden thump from the storefront beside them. A realization hit then: while it was wonderful for Killian to be so close when she’d needed him, that proximity left them right in the line of sight of the store’s windows. Oh crap.

“How good are you at sneaking a look without being noticed?” Emma asked and Killian looked entertained at her random question.

“I’m a journalist, Swan. I can be discrete when the moment calls for it.”

“Good. Now, is the window currently filled with my friends openly ogling us?” Emma asked and Killian’s eyes darted that way quickly before he looked back and his grin widened.

“Aye it is.” Of course it was.

“Great,” Emma replied tightly and Killian laughed, the sound washing over her and taking that edge and frustration with her friends away from Emma’s mind completely.

“Can I see you tonight, love, and not just on the train?” Killian asked, his hand running along the small of her back and leaving trails of pleasure in its wake.

“Well I figured that was a given now that the article is behind us,” Emma knew her attempt at seduction worked when she saw Killian’s eyes darken. He looked as hungry as she felt for more in this moment.

“Technically it comes out tomorrow at -,”

Emma cut Killian off with another kiss, knowing full well that she was going to get applauded for putting on a show in a few minutes when she walked back inside. It was totally worth it though, especially when Killian agreed that they’d waited long enough and that tonight that was going to change. She was going to his house for dinner and then that bit of something they’d both been waiting for.

“You should know I’m damn well requiring you to stay the night, Swan. One taste isn’t going to be enough.” Emma’s heart fluttered at his words but she offered a sly smile of her own.

“Or you’re desperate for a decent night’s sleep and you can’t find one without me.”

“That too,” Killian replied, kissing her one last time before returning to the town car that had been idling at the curb all the while.

Emma watched him go and bit her lip, thinking about all that lay in store for her tonight. She was flying high right now, between the article and Killian and everything ahead of them and not even the sight of her four friends staring back at her and then subsequently cheering when she walked through the door could take away from that.

“I’m sorry, don’t we have a business to run here?” Emma asked, deflecting only slightly in the face of her friends’ reactions.

“Yeah, a business dedicated to love. Excuse us for wanting to see some in action,” Ruby quipped, and Emma shook her head.

Ruby’s witty retort actually hit a lot closer to home than her friend probably realized, because these emotions Emma was currently grappling with might be foreign to her, but they resembled something she’d heard of and seen in person enough times to recognize. This was definitely love in its earliest stages, and it was very different than anything she’d ever known. Whatever relationships she had before this weren’t the real thing, but Emma knew that with Killian she’d stumbled upon what most people spent their whole lives looking for.

Emma carried that sense of possibility with her through the rest of the day, and though she was able to distract herself in intervals, Ruby’s words wormed their way back into Emma’s mind more than once. The waves came randomly like when she found herself comparing a bride’s story of meeting her future husband to her meeting Killian on the train, or when she was dragged from her studio in a fleeting moment of quiet to come taste four types of wedding cake for a desperate Elsa. Emma was in the business of weddings, and yet for the first time in her life, the idea of someday (still very far off in the future) having one of her own didn’t actively terrify her. If that wasn’t a sign that Killian was different, Emma didn’t know what was.

When the workday finally gave way to quitting time, Emma enjoyed seeing Killian on the train briefly and then stopping home. She got everything she needed together, pretended to find something to do for the remaining amount of time, and then ran into Mrs. Hubbard on the way out. One look at Emma’s overnight bag and the woman was all smiles and happy proclamations.

“I just knew that boy was a keeper!” Mrs. Hubbard chortled as she clapped her hands over Emma’s in an eager pat. Emma meanwhile tried not to laugh at the woman’s classifying Killian as a ‘boy’ when he was definitely all man.

“Mrs. Hubbard, this is still new. I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high,” Emma said casually, knowing she was uttering the words partially for own benefit as well as her neighbor’s, and the old woman waved that idea away.

“The only way to live is all in, Emma. If you ever learn anything from this old lady, let it be that. You’ve got good instincts. Don’t start doubting em’ now.”

With that, Emma was dismissed and sent on her way to Killian’s. It took only ten minutes or so to get there, but the look on Killian’s face when she buzzed up and he opened the door made Emma feel like she wasn’t crazy for thinking that distance was still too far.

“Emma, you made it.” The relief in Killian’s voice made her laugh.

“What? Did you think I would back out or something?” She asked, shrugging off her jacket after he promptly took her bag and kissed her in greeting.

“Not at all. It’s just still hard to imagine my luck that we get to do this at all,” Killian confessed and Emma melted at the words. She felt the same way, but he always managed to put it in clearer terms.

“Something smells really good. Did you cook again?” Emma asked, surprised as she stepped into his kitchen, the one that she’d fallen in love with a few nights ago.

“Aye, Swan. I know how to prepare more than one meal. Shocking I know.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that you don’t have to do all of this.” Killian came and wrapped his arms around her from behind and Emma loved the warmth that seeped through from him to her in the process.

“I wanted to Emma. I like the idea of having you here in my home, sharing a meal of any kind. Next time we’ll do pizza if you prefer. But tonight, I wanted to show you that I care.” That was incredibly touching, and it made Emma feel valued in a way that she still wasn’t entirely used to. She turned around in his embrace to look at him so he could see that she meant what she said next.

“I always know you care, Killian. Trust me, that part isn’t up for debate.”

“Then what is?” Killian asked sincerely and Emma decided to take a risk.

“Whether we start with dinner or dessert. Can all of this keep for… awhile?” Emma asked looking around and then smiling when she felt a low growl emanate from Killian’s chest.

“I had plans, love. Wine and dine you then make good on every promise I’ve laid at your feet thus far.” Emma shivered at that but shook her head.

“I had plans too. Then you happened. Plans change, and sometimes that’s a really good thing.”

From the look in Killian’s eyes one would think Emma was the one with a mastery of words, but she only spoke the truth. Killian had changed things for her and all the rules she’d once made about her love life were long gone. She was starting fresh, and though she fully planned to enjoy the meal he’d made, she also knew they had all night, and that right now what she wanted more than anything was to take the next step with the man who’d thrown her world into a beautiful, spinning chaos.

Without any actual words in reply, Killian’s lips crashed down to hers and Emma immediately responded. Her hands ran through the hair at the nape of his neck as her body molded to his. The kiss was driven by an overwhelming desire for closeness and contact. The last week had been a tease of what could happen when they came together, but tonight this chemistry would be put to the test. Would the spark be snuffed out, or would it ignite into something so much brighter?

“I have a mind to take you right here, love, but I swore the first time I made love to you I’d have you in my bed, and I’m a man of my word.”

Emma shivered deliciously at his heated words, and how she found the strength to stay vertical and move with him from the kitchen to his bedroom was beyond her. But one second she was in the bright lights of the kitchen, and the next she was in the warmer space that was his room, anticipating stripping away the layers between them and actually getting what she so badly wanted.

Yet where Emma was all about action and moving swiftly, Killian was languid, setting a pace that had her throbbing with want and near begging for him to move faster. His kisses were slow, and deliberate, pulling every ounce of need from her that they could but he stilled her hands when she reached for his shirt to strip it off of him.

When he was confident Emma wouldn’t push for more, Killian’s hands roamed over her body reverently, tracing the blue of the dress she wore tonight that was the closest approximation to his eyes that she could find in fabric, and Emma ached for him to take this further. Still there was a part of her that loved this and that fed off of the look in Killian’s eyes like she was the most important thing in the world to him. Emma had always wanted to be someone’s everything, and looks like that made her believe that finally she could be.

“Killian.” Emma whispered his name aloud, drawing his eyes back to hers.

“The first time I saw you in this dress was a few days after I started riding the train. I thought I’d finally stumbled upon perfection. The muse every writer I studied in school wrote about was made real in you. I didn’t think anyone could be so beautiful. Then someone - I’m assuming Ruby in hindsight - called you and I heard your voice for the first time. I realized then I didn’t even have all the facts yet. There was so much more to you than I had access to, and I wanted to know it all. I still do. I don’t think it will ever be enough.”

Emma longed to say something back, but she was feeling too much and Killian took advantage of her silence, stepping back around her and sliding the zipper down along the back of the dress. He stood close enough for her to feel the whisper of his breath along her ear and Emma closed her eyes as Killian murmured more words about how everything about her was remarkable. Every piece to the puzzle that she let him see only made him want more, and Emma wanted to let him have it all, to show Killian all of her as she’d never done with anyone else.

When her dress was gone, Emma enjoyed the string of curses that Killian let slip. He was all hard lines and tension, fighting for control, and Emma used that shift to her advantage. She turned back around to face him, and let down her hair from the tie she held it back in, Emma felt her confidence rise as his eyes took her in. The look on his face was so much more intense than anything she’d ever seen, but instead of lingering in that moment, Emma started to strip away some of the clothes that separated him from her view. She made quick work of his shirt and then her hands came to unbutton the jeans he’d put on after work. Emma felt Killian’s hum of approval at her actions deep down to her soul, but when her hand slipped inside, Killian halted her actions and took the reins again.

“I want nothing more than to give you everything you want, love, but I won’t last that way.” Killian’s words were firm, but Emma couldn’t help the smile that played at her lips.

“I think you can handle a lot more than you’re giving yourself credit for.”

Emma’s teasing tone was met with Killian moving her to the bed and then stripping the rest of the clothing he wore away. This was a side of Killian she hadn’t seen very often; he was stern and commanding, still restrained in some ways, but brimming with energy all the same. Emma knew all of that was about to be channeled into pleasing her, and it practically guaranteed her the best sex of her life, but then her mind went blank. In the face of all of Killian, Emma was speechless, and left wanting more than she had been all these past few months.

“Take it off, love. I want you completely bared to me.”

Emma’s eyes widened at the request, but she immediately complied, feeling the trail his eyes traced along her skin like a physical touch as she shucked away her bra and then the scrap of lace between her legs. Shit, she was so hot right now, it felt like being engulfed by flames, and she couldn’t tell if she wanted it to stop or to just let everything between them incinerate her completely.

She had her answer when Killian finally moved forward onto the bed and touched her. Whatever the cost to her sanity, she wanted this with Killian. If he ruined her so be it. She was desperate and unashamed of letting him see that. Emma wouldn’t call him gentle per se, but precise and filled with intent. He gave just enough pressure in just the right places to set her heart racing faster, and Killian definitely knew exactly what he was doing to her based on the grin that appeared on his gorgeous face.

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined, Swan. I hardly know where to begin.”

“Anywhere. Just as long as you start,” Emma said in a rush, the last word squeaked out as one of his hands trailed to her breast.

Killian’s reply was a physical one, with his mouth covering hers in a branding kiss. She knew he was as ravenous for her as Emma was for him, and though he started slow and teasing that course of action deteriorated in seconds. Suddenly he was everywhere with roaming hands and kisses at her neck and then lower. It was all so good and yet the ache in Emma that craved more still throbbed almost painfully. That clawing need was only added to when she felt the scruff of his beard against her smooth, exposed skin or the mastery he had over every response. By the time his mouth came to her breast, she was panting, and then his fingers were at her sex and she was lost. Emma couldn’t tell up from down, all she knew was this was so much so fast and she was desperate for more.

“Fuck, Emma, you’re so ready for me even now,” Killian growled against her sensitive flesh and Emma nodded, unable to process enough to give him actual words. Her fingers ran through his short hair and when he sucked at her aching bud at the same time that his thumb swirled against her clit and two of his fingers pressed inside, she cried out his name.

That quickly she crashed into a climax, but Killian was hardly satisfied. Emma could tell from the look in his eyes that he wouldn’t rest until he’d given them both so much more pleasure and bliss. He made slow work of things, remaining as he was and knowing instinctively when her oversensitivity gave way to wanting again. Emma doubted it was possible to recreate that toe-curling release, but he proved her wrong once more with his hands and then again with his mouth at her sex. It got to be so much that Emma feared she would pass out but finally he was back with her, hovering just above her with a look of love in his eyes that only sparked her desire for him all over again.

“I think it’s only fair to warn you love that it won’t be easy to get rid of me after this. A man can’t taste heaven like you and merely walk away.”

Emma shivered at the mention of tasting, recalling everything he’d just managed to elicit from her with that skilled mouth of his but finally she found the means to speak and to assure Killian that wouldn’t be a problem.

“Good. Because I don’t want you to walk away,”

With a growl, Killian thrust into her, leaving Emma completely filled in a moment. She’d gone from empty and waiting to so beautifully completed so quickly that she lost it, clawing at his back and urging him to move. She wanted him in every way, hard and fast, in a rhythm designed to combust, and Killian delivered in every way, dragging her back to the edge and then pleading with her to step off with him.

“Let go, Emma. Let go.”

That was all it took for Emma to give Killian what he wanted. His sincerity and the miraculously good sensations he was causing in her body coiled tight before springing free, and when she fell, he followed suit, sealing the moment as one of the best Emma had ever known.

The blinding feel of total completion was heady and gorgeous, but Emma felt it fade into something more valuable: a peace that came from being in Killian’s arms that she’d never felt before. No one else had ever earned her trust like him, and no one else could look at her after all of this and still seem just as genuine as Killian. In his eyes, Emma saw all sorts of hope, and she knew in her heart that his earlier promise was real: he wasn’t going anywhere and Emma was so beyond glad for that.

“You know, I didn’t get a chance to say this before, but I really liked the word you used in the disclaimer.”

“And which word was that?” Killian asked, his arms pulling her in closer to him.

“Attachment. I don’t think I’ve ever felt particularly attached to someone before. But with you I do,” Emma admitted.

“Well I’m honored that you chose me, Emma. God knows I’d choose you every time, and the proof is in the fact that we had dessert before dinner.” Emma laughed at that, feeling the moment when Killian did the same before offering a solution.

“We could always remedy that now if you want,” Emma offered, but she was left staring after Killian when he hopped out of bed and insisted she stay right where she was.

“I have every intention of keeping you in this bed as long as I can, love. I’ll bring everything to you.” Killian pressed one last kiss to her lips and then set off towards the kitchen, but before he disappeared, Emma called out to him one last time.

“Killian?” her voice warbled through the air, reaching him just before he left her line of sight.

“Yes, love?”

“Keep choosing me, okay?” she asked, really hoping that he would.

“Always.” And with that gentle promise, he departed for a few minutes before coming back and granting Emma those same feelings of safety, and belonging and love all over again.

Post-Note: So there we have it. I hope you guys enjoyed this installment, and I am so excited for where the story is going next. I have a lot of things I still want to incorporate, and I see quite a few more chapters in this AUs future filled with lots of smuffy goodness. Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your day!

[typologycentral]

Resurrecting the Feeling Function

C. G. Jung (1921) observed that the four functions of psychological type are “sufficient to express and represent the various modes of conscious orientation” (p. 518), and he described normal development of the psyche in terms of the differentiation of each of those four functions as it individuates to become “distinct from the general, collective psychology” (p. 448). But the importance of Feeling consciousness seems to have been marginalized by the modern western world. James Hillman (1971) addressed this issue, saying that the Feeling function is largely unconscious in our society having “lain like a buried continent in the collective psyche” (p. 115). Arguably, my own psychic development as a dominant introverted feeling type has been hindered by our culture’s preference for Thinking, and I believe that this is the case for many people whose natural preference is for Feeling judgment. In fact, for many of us, the Feeling function is so universally under-valued that it remains a less conscious function, despite being in the primary position in our innate typology. Taking this idea one step further, it seems to me that if more people could develop their Feeling function, it would be possible to bring more of that under-valued Feeling consciousness to how we all relate to each other and to our natural environment. Jung (1921) defined each function specifically: Feeling is a valuation process driven by the ego (p. 425); Thinking “arranges the contents of ideation” (p. 482), implying that it orders our thoughts; Intuition “is the function that mediates perceptions in an unconscious way” (p. 453), meaning often we cannot explain where the thought came from; and Sensation “mediates the perception of a physical stimulus” (p. 461) by the body’s sense organs, whether caused by internal or external stimuli. Although the order of functions was not a major focus of Jung (1921), he did contend that the first function, or primary function, has “absolute sovereignty” (p. 405). Further, the secondary function is “auxiliary or complementary” (p. 405) so, despite being important, does not have importance in its own right; it only acts to support the primary. Introverted feeling, for example, will pair with either extraverted sensing or intuiting, and extraverted feeling with either introverted sensing or intuiting. As Beebe (2005) pointed out, Jung’s writing had little mention of the third function since he thought the third and fourth function would remain unconscious in most people’s psyches. Jung highlighted this point, saying that the inferior or fourth function “lags behind in the process of differentiation” (p. 450). We now have a four-function model developed by Jung and further developed by Myers (1980) and others before being extended to the archetypal model developed by Beebe (2005). Jung commented that although “the four functions are somewhat like the four points of the compass; they are just as arbitrary and just as indispensable,” (p. 541), and he emphasized that he “would not for anything dispense with this compass on my psychological voyages of discovery” (p. 541). It follows then that if the Feeling function has been driven underground by society, our individuation compass will be offset. When I arrived to study at Pacifica Graduate Institute, I had spent years operating from my inferior function. I had been working with an analyst for several years and often challenged him on his assessment of my type as being introverted feeling. I felt he only saw one side of me, not seeing or valuing my extraverted nature, perhaps due to the nature of our psychological conversations. Now, having typed myself as an INFP, I can see that my type was distorted growing up, with the introverted feeling function (Fi) suppressed and, instead, emphasis placed on my inferior function, extraverted thinking (Te), as well as my auxiliary extraverted intuition (Ne) and tertiary introverted sensation (Si). Only in recent years has my dominant introverted feeling function become more conscious. However, reflecting on my personal development, I recognize several junctures where the functions were skewed through environmental pressures and where subsequently they began to realign into their innate positions. For example, I believe that because feelings were not valued in my family or society, I hid these aspects of myself, forcing them into my unconscious. Beebe (2004) would have described this as my “spine” of consciousness being distorted, the spine being the axis between the superior and inferior functions (p. 92); my Fi and Te spine was misaligned. Marie-Louise von Franz (1971) said that “being forced to be an intellectual as a feeling type—feeling ‘thwarted or despised’” (p. 12)—is not uncommon. She contended that in such cases the auxiliary functions become over-developed as a means to compensate for the need to use the inferior function. Thus I developed my Te and Si to try to adapt to my incubating thinking environment at home and at school. This is why I disagreed with my analyst for many years and thought of myself perhaps as more extraverted. I am very comfortable socially, enjoying gathering information in the typically extraverted intuitive way—“in clusters, nothing stand[ing] by itself, discrete, and unconnected” (Haas & Hunziker, 2006, p. 54). I join dots, seeing the interconnection between groups of people and things, envisioning how “situations, objects, and information can be used” (p. 54). For example, I have started many large entrepreneurial projects that involved seeing the big picture, as well as bringing together a network of people and ideas. I now teach craniosacral therapy and often after having prepared a lesson will abandon my teaching plan, instead responding to the group process and student dynamics, speaking from my heart. This is a typical Ne behavior. In his essay on the Feeling function, James Hillman (1971) called it “that psychological process in us that evaluates” (p. 103). The validation that his essay offers me highlights how while growing up, I used my feelings to evaluate and how I was continually required by school and family to justify my evaluations through Thinking. From my perspective, modern western society has a bias towards Thinking, particularly in its education system. As I have become more conscious of my Feeling function in recent years, I wonder in what way do I feel. My preference is to animate my whole world, evaluating through Feeling everything around me, whether animal, book, friend or foe. Although I sometimes struggle to put how I feel into words, as I am able to differentiate and become more conscious of those feelings, I can more easily attribute words to them. For example, sometimes I feel the object, whether animal or book or person, as a sound with a particular vibration, or it might have a special imaginary odor, or I might see it in textured colors with a particular density and speed. This is my way of connecting “the subject to the object (by imparting value) and the object to the subject (by receiving it within the subjective value system)” (Hillman, 1971, p. 112), weaving in my previous experience. My Feeling is definitely not a matter of determining whether simply I like or dislike something, as Hillman suggested an undifferentiated Feeling function might do (p. 113). For example, different roses and flowers in my garden will have very many qualities, including smells, colors, vibration, density, sharpness, gentleness, textures, tone, and harmony. I feel a hundred different aspects of a rose and may compare it to another rose or another flower in order to evaluate its suitability for a certain spot in the garden. No wonder it takes me a while to make the decision. Hillman also validated this longer decision making, suggesting that feeling “requires more time, more time than is needed for perception” (p. 112).blessThis process is not something I was going to risk disclosing while at school or while working in the corporate world. Perhaps what I am describing here is a Feeling wound that started with my family. Paradoxically, my parents both appear to be dominant Feeling types, my mother displaying ENFJ characteristics, therefore extraverted feeling dominant, and my father assessing as an INFP like me. However, their upbringing did not value Feeling. They grew up in Northern Ireland in Protestant families in which the Puritanical heritage valued Thinking and Sensing more highly than Feeling and Intuiting. Arguably, Protestant Northern Irish are known for their tidy houses and gardens; stereotypically they value order above expressive art and are practical, reserved, and pragmatic. These qualities suggest that as a culture, they might express the ISTJ type, meaning introverted sensing and extraverted thinking are valued. Historically, the doctors and accountants of Northern Ireland have come primarily from this Protestant sub-culture. If this logic holds, then my parents would have been strongly encouraged to develop their Thinking functions in order to have better opportunities in the more socially-enabling professions. They would have been discouraged from expressing artistic qualities of Feeling and of Intuiting, these being seen as lesser qualities. These societal pressures seem to have been reinforced towards me and my siblings. My siblings assess as thinking types, INTJ and ENTJ, so were not so adversely affected, but it seems the expression of my innate type was distorted. Von Franz (1971) said that people can revert to original type through analysis “like fish that can now return happily to the water” (p. 12), and I believe this happened to me through various therapeutic practices. Through psychotherapy, craniosacral therapy, and Jungian analysis, I believe I have returned to the water. My father and I have an easy relationship, both having superior introverted feeling. Despite any distortions in our type expression, the innate characteristics have connected. We bond over the garden, nature in general, and our evaluation of situations. I witness the sometimes-clumsy interactions due to my family’s different types and often need to remind myself of von Franz’s (1971) sentiment that although Thinking types are often seen as not having any feeling, “this is absolutely not true. It is not that they have no feeling, but that they cannot express it at the appropriate moment. They have the feeling somehow and somewhere, but not just when they ought to produce it” (p. 21). Perhaps if everyone were able to be more conscious of each other’s Feeling function position, then many of the miscommunications I see would not happen. The Feeling function can be expressed through an either introverted (Fi) or extraverted (Fe) attitude, and they are quite different. Introverted feeling tends to focus on one’s own values whereas extraverted feeling focuses on the feelings of others. My Feeling is expressed through an introverted attitude while my mother’s is through an extraverted attitude. While we have a close loving relationship, our dominant function difference does not always lead to harmonious communication. Jung, von Franz, and Beebe have each observed that individuals having preferences for the same function but in opposite attitudes can experience conflict and disharmony since the shadow functions are difficult to see in oneself. So despite my mother being a Feeling type, she may not have recognized my introverted feeling, nor I her extraverted feeling. The ego-dystonic functions tend to operate under the archetypes of what Beebe termed the Opposing Personality (5th), Witch/ Senex (6th), Trickster (7th), and the Demonic personality (8th). These are ego-dystonic in that they are not in harmony with the ego’s conscious, usual way of being. By looking at these archetypal forces underlying the psychological types, it is possible to gain better understanding into how we relate to our own psyche—the tensions between our conscious and unconscious minds—as well as how we relate to the world and its people around us. In Beebe’s model, Fe falls in my Opposing Personality position, and my mother’s Fi sits in her Opposing Personality position. While my mother might have been concerned with gathering people together for group harmony, we sometimes missed that our values did not fit with each other’s needs. It can be easy to feel judged when our preferred functions are misread. Jung (1921) compared the Fi type to the mimosa plant that withdraws at the slightest external touch. And so I withdrew easily from other’s judging, not wanting to share my private value system that is typically not up for discussion, a common Fi response (Haas & Hunziker, 2006, p. 106). Von Franz (1971) explained that for Feeling types, often “the real thought is not yet up to the level at which it can be expressed” (p. 22). This so accurately describes my interior world that I commonly find myself in tears with frustration at not being able to express my inner feelings. On many occasions, my poor mother has been on the receiving end of the “unadaptedness and primitiveness” of my inferior Te through “its touchiness and tyranny” (p. 18). But von Franz’s comment reassures me that I am not alone in this behavior. I spent years working in business and finance using my extraverted thinking and introverted sensing functions, keeping the Fi suppressed. It was not until aged 34 that I moved out of this corporate Sensing and Thinking field to become a craniosacral therapist. Craniosacral therapy is a therapeutic practice in which the practitioner attunes the rhythms of the body to the rhythms of the natural world. My observation tells me that the practice involves Feeling, Intuiting, and Sensing, with little Thinking. We feel “other peoples’ pain” (Haas & Hunziker, 2006, p. 70), we “have sensitivity to others’ inner calmness” (p. 106), and we are “closely attuned to the physical condition and energy of their bodies” (p. 43). While a largely introverted practice, craniosacral therapy does require some extraverted functions, such as Fe in order to empathize with the client or Ne to gather lots of information to assess the big picture. My immersion in this field, I believe, served to right my Fi—Te axis, in that my introverted feeling was able to once more take its rightful place as my superior function. I also brought consciousness to my Ni that is positioned as the negative mother in Beebe’s model, as well as my Fe, thus resolving some of the communication challenges with my actual mother. Both Jung (1921) and Beebe (2004) believed that all eight functions should be used and that the structure, rather than being a rigid one, should be fluid, allowing different functions to express depending on the circumstances. Having developed some of my previously unconscious functions, I chose to take the challenge of studying for a doctoral degree—a task that would surely stress my Thinking functions. Having my introverted thinking (Ti) in Beebe’s Demonic position, it seemed like quite a challenge. Interestingly, as I embarked on the challenge, my physical health fell apart, with one of the symptoms being hair loss or alopecia. Jolande Jacobi (1971), referring to the whale-dragon myth, made the point that the Hero, here my Fi, had to make a sacrifice of losing his hair, as a symbolic gesture, in order to be transformed: “He not only goes through suffering but loses his hair, symbol of the power of thought, and comes forth changed, matured” (p. 177). In other words, there can be no rebirth, and thus no new emergence, without something dying and being left behind (p. 178). My understanding of my hair loss as I studied to become a better scholar was that it served the purpose of reminding me to do so using my Feeling function, not over-relying on my Thinking function again. It is only through restoring the Feeling function to its rightful place that I will impart my deepest wisdom. Now that I have brought my own psychological type dynamic into better balance and so can better relate to myself, my challenge then is to bring Feeling consciousness to my relating to others around me, including to friends and family, but also to those I teach. I teach people to become craniosacral therapy practitioners through a two-year training program as well as by running my own workshops. Both essentially teach participants to feel the world around them, including the natural world. While it is important not to restrict my students through definitive type categorization, I think it is useful to understand their psychological types as described by Jung and Beebe. Indeed, if I were to teach in a way that is overly concrete, then I would be literalizing what it is I am trying to teach and moving away from the archetypal affect. However, it is important to support my students to differentiate how they perceive and evaluate the world, allowing them to work it out for themselves. Unlike in my own type-distorting experience, I try to invite my students to explore how it is they experience the world and only offer some simple framing as feedback. No doubt there are particular types that gravitate to the cranial field, but it is important that their learning exploration is fluid, regardless of their type. Further, if I were to push them to use an inferior or shadow function such as Opposing or Demonic personality, it might result in destabilizing the personality, potentially towards depression, mania, paranoia, or schizophrenia, as described by Sandner and Beebe (1995, p. 328). They warned that all therapists “working with the unconscious should be ever alert to the dangers of activating the demonic layer of the personality with injudicious interventions” (p. 330). Using the lens of my students’ psychological types as Iblessembark on the teaching process will likely result in a more harmonious journey for all of us. Understanding all eight functions when in a therapeutic relationship is vital since a light can be shone onto the archetypal affect exhibited by the patient through an appreciation of his or her psychological type. Examining this through the psychological types lens of Beebe’s archetypal model, I am potentially teaching people to become conscious of their shadow and inferior functions. I work with others to develop their Feeling functions through teaching them to feel the world around them. One program I run works specifically to teach people to relate to the earth and natural world. I ask my clients to notice how a plant makes them feel, where it feels most comfortable to sit in relation to another person, or in a garden. I invite my clients to ask themselves: How do you feel? How does the plant feel? How does the other person feel? I ask them not to enquire of the name of the person or tree, rather to just feel. I ask them to pay attention to the functions of Intuiting and Sensing. I describe how, for example, I feel the rose or another person in a therapeutic setting. I might sense in my body how that person is feeling, I might notice particular colors and densities in that person, or I might hear an imaginary sound or vibration. This also applies to a flower or tree or animal or even to the rock or chair that I might be sitting on. So I invite exploration of functions. What I am proposing is that if we can feel one another and the world around us, we are more likely to be considerate in our treatment of such, since we will feel any pain inflicted. I contend if we could feel how it is for a forest to be clear-cut, then we would consider its environmental impact; if we could feel how it is for the ocean to have all its fish killed, we would question our fish consumption; and if we could feel how it is for an oil field to be mined, then we would make better decisions about fuel usage. Our society is focused on economic and corporate Thinking. Since the collective Feeling consciousness is diminished, I have focused the direction of my work towards teaching people to feel the world. Hillman’s validation gives me strength to continue my work and Jung’s psychological type model provides me with more insight into how different types will respond to my teaching. Feeling needs to become more conscious in our culture in order to balance the collective, in the same way that my own personal set of functions needed to be rebalanced to allow me to better relate to the world around me. I have become accepting of my way of being in the world, learning that Feeling is not only acceptable but also valuable. The falling apart of my body and hair made me take particular notice, and I wonder if the current apparent falling apart of society will similarly affect a shift in the collective Feeling consciousness. --- References: Beebe, J. (2004). Understanding consciousness through the theory of psychological types. In J. Cambray, and L. Carter (Eds.), Analytical psychology: Contemporary perspectives in Jungian analysis (pp. 83-115). Hove, UK: Brunner-Routledge. Beebe, J. (2005). Evolving the eight-function model. Australian Psychological Types Bulletin, Winter, 2005, 34-39. (Reprint 2006, Australian Psychological Types Review 8(1), 39-43. Haas, L. & Hunziker, M. (2006). Building blocks of personality type: A guide to using the eight-process model of personality type. Temecula, CA: Typelabs. Hillman, J. & von Franz, M-L. (2013). Lectures on Jung’s typology. Dallas, TX: Spring Publications. (Original work published 1971). Jacobi, J. (1971). Complex, archetype, symbol in the psychology of C. G. Jung. New York, NY: Princeton University Press. Jung, C. G. (2014). Definitions. In R. F. C. Hull (Trans.), Psychological types (Vol. 6, pp. 408-486). London, UK: Routledge. (Original work published 1921). Jung, C. G. (2014). General description of the types. In R. F. C. Hull (Trans.), Psychological types (Vol. 6, pp. 330-407). London, UK: Routledge. (Original work published 1921). Myers, I. B. with Myers, P. B. (1995). Gifts differing: Understanding personality type. Mountain View, CA: CPP. (Original work published in 1980). Sandner, D. & Beebe, J. (1995). The role of psychological type in possession from Psychopathology and analysis. In M. Stein (Ed.), Jungian analysis, (2nd ed., pp. 322-330). Chicago, IL: Open Court. Images: Martin Johnson Heade, “Apple Blossoms,” (1878). Jane and friend. Courtesy: Jane Shaw. Jane Shaw. Courtesy: Jane Shaw. From Jane’s garden. Courtesy: Jane Shaw. RSS Feed - Link To Personality Type In Depth Article http://www.typologycentral.com/forums/typology-videos-and-rss-feeds/88113-resurrecting-feeling-function-new-post.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[endenogatai]

Norway pulls its coronavirus contacts-tracing app after privacy watchdog’s warning

One of the first national coronavirus contacts-tracing apps to be launched in Europe is being suspended in Norway after the country’s data protection authority raised concerns that the software, called “Smittestopp,” poses a disproportionate threat to user privacy — including by continuously uploading people’s location.

Following a warning from the watchdog Friday, the Norwegian Institute of Public Health (FHI) said today it will stop uploading data from tomorrow — ahead of a June 23 deadline when the DPA had asked for use of the app to be suspended so that changes could be made. It added that it disagrees with the watchdog’s assessment but will nonetheless delete user data “as soon as possible.”

As of June 3, the app had been downloaded 1.6 million times, and had around 600,000 active users, according to the FHI — which is just over 10% of Norway’s population; or around 14% of the population aged over 16 years.

“We do not agree with the Data Protection Agency’s assessment, but now we have to delete all data and pause work as a result of the notification,” said FHI director Camilla Stoltenberg in a statement [translated via Google Translate]. “With this, we weaken an important part of our preparedness for increased spread of infection, because we lose time in developing and testing the app. At the same time, we have a reduced ability to fight the spread of infection that is ongoing.

“The pandemic is not over. We have no immunity in the population, no vaccine, and no effective treatment. Without the Smittestopp app, we will be less equipped to prevent new outbreaks that may occur locally or nationally.”

Europe’s data protection framework allows for personal data to be processed for a pressing public health purpose — and Norway’s DPA had earlier agreed an app could be a suitable tool to combat the coronavirus emergency. Although the agency was not actively consulted during the app’s development, and had expressed reservations — saying it would closely monitor developments.

Developments that have led the watchdog to intervene are a low contagion rate in the country and a low download rate for the app — meaning it now takes the view that Smittestopp is no longer a proportionate intervention.

“We believe that FHI has not demonstrated that it is strictly necessary to use location data for infection detection,” said Bjørn Erik Thon, director of Norway’s DPA, in a statement posted on its website today.

Unlike many of the national coronavirus apps in Europe — which use only Bluetooth signals to estimate user proximity as a means of calculating exposure risk to COVID-19 — Norway’s app also tracks real-time GPS location data.

The country took the decision to track GPS before the European Data Protection Board — which is made up of representatives of DPAs across the EU — had put out guidelines, specifying that contact-tracing apps “do not require tracking the location of individual users”; and suggesting the use of “proximity data” instead.

Additionally, Norway opted for a centralized app architecture, meaning user data is uploaded to a central server controlled by the health authority, instead of being stored locally on device — as is the case with decentralized coronavirus contacts-tracing apps, such as the app being developed by Germany and one launched recently in Italy. (Apple and Google’s exposure notification API also exclusively supports decentralized app architectures.)

The FHI had been using what it describes as “anonymised” user data from the app to track movement patterns around the country — saying the data would be used to monitor whether restrictions intended to limit the spread of the virus (such as social distancing) were working as intended.

The DPA said today that it’s also unhappy users of the app have no ability to choose to grant permission only for coronavirus contacts tracing — but must also agree to their personal information being used for research purposes, contravening the EU data protection principle of purpose limitation.

Another objection it has is around how the app data was being anonymized and aggregated by the FHI — location data being notoriously difficult to robustly anonymize.

“It is FHI’s choice that they stop all data collection and storage right away. Now I hope they use the time until June 23 well, both to document the usefulness of the app and to make other necessary changes so that they can resume use,” said Thon. “The reason for the notification is the [DPA]’s assessment that Smittestopp can no longer be regarded as a proportionate encroachment on users’ basic privacy rights.”

“Smittestopp is a very privacy-intensive measure, even in an exceptional situation where society is trying to fight a pandemic. We believe that the utility is not present the way it is today, and that is how the technical solution is designed and working now,” he also said.

Commenting on the developments, Luca Tosoni, a research fellow at the University of Oslo’s Norwegian Research Center for Computers and Law, suggested the Norway DPA’s decision could lead to similar bans on contacts-tracing apps elsewhere in Europe — should contagion levels drop to a similarly low level. (And rates of COVID-19 continue declining across the region, at this stage.)

“To my knowledge, this is the first instance in which a European DPA has imposed a ban on a contact-tracing app already in use in light of national developments regarding contagion levels,” he told us. “It is thus possible that other European DPAs will impose similar bans in the future and demand that contact-tracing apps be changed as soon as contagion levels substantially decrease also in other parts of Europe. Norway has currently one of the lowest contagion levels in Europe.”

“The ban was not only related to the app’s use of GPS data. The latter was probably the most important feature of the app that the Norwegian DPA has criticised, but not the only one to be seen as problematic,” Tosoni added. “Another element that was criticised by the Norwegian DPA was that the app’s users are currently unable to consent only to the use of their their data for infection tracking purposes without consenting to their data being used also for research purposes.

“The DPA also questioned the accuracy of the app in light of the current low level of contagion in Norway, and criticised the absence of an appropriate solution for aggregating and anonymising the data collected.”

Tosoni said the watchdog is expected to reassess the app in the next few weeks, including assessing any changes proposed by the developer, but he takes the view that it’s unlikely the DPA would deem a switch to Bluetooth-only tracing to be sufficient for the app’s use of personal data proportionate.

Even so, the FHI said today it hopes users will suspend the app (by disabling its access to GPS and Bluetooth in settings), rather than deleting it entirely — so the software could be more easily reactivated in future should it be deemed necessary and legal.

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[newsfundastuff]

The national protests seeking an end to systemic discrimination against black Americans have given new fuel to a racial reckoning in economics, a discipline dominated by white men despite decades of efforts to open greater opportunity for women and nonwhite men.A growing chorus of economists is seeking to dislodge the editor of a top academic publication, the University of Chicago economist Harald Uhlig, after he criticized the Black Lives Matter organization on Twitter and equated its members with "flat earthers" over their embrace of calls to defund police departments.Days earlier, the profession's de facto governing body, the American Economic Association, sent a letter to its members supporting protesters and saying that "we have only begun to understand racism and its impact on our profession and our discipline." A group of economists, mostly from outside academia, last week hosted an online fundraising effort for the Sadie Collective, an organization that aims to bring more black women into the field.Black economists say the events have brought some progress to a field that has long struggled with discrimination in its ranks -- and with a refusal by many of its leaders to acknowledge discrimination in the country at large. But the profession remains nowhere close to a full-scale shift on racial issues: On Wednesday, the director of the White House National Economic Council, Larry Kudlow, told reporters, "I don't believe there is systemic racism in the U.S."Black Americans are vastly underrepresented among economics students and professors, a wide range of data have shown. There are no black editors of the most prestigious economics journals. There are no black professors in the main economics department at Chicago, Uhlig's employer, which is one of the most storied departments in the country.In a survey of economists released by the American Economic Association last year, only 14% of black economists agreed with the statement that "people of my race/ethnicity are respected within the field."As protests against discrimination have grown in recent days, a conversation has erupted -- often led by black economists -- over how the lack of diversity has left the profession ill equipped for a moment where policymakers are seeking ideas on how to combat racial inequality in policing, employment and other areas."Hopefully, this moment will cause economists to reflect and rethink how we study racial disparities," the Howard University economist William Spriggs wrote to colleagues in an open letter that was posted this week on the website of the Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis."Trapped in the dominant conversation, far too often African American economists find themselves having to prove that African Americans are equal," he continued. "We find ourselves, as so often happens in these ugly police cases, having to prove that acts of discrimination are exactly that -- discrimination."Uhlig's Twitter posts criticized demonstrators for not coordinating recent protests with law enforcement, before singling out Black Lives Matter over calls to defund the police."Look: I understand, that some out there still wish to go and protest and say defundpolice and all kinds of stuff, while you are still young and responsibility does not matter," Uhlig wrote. "Enjoy! Express yourself! Just don't break anything, ok? And be back by 8 pm."The posts drew a swift backlash, including criticism from several white colleagues at Chicago and a petition calling for him to resign his editorship of the Journal of Political Economy, considered one of five journals with an outsize role in the field.Uhlig, a 59-year-old German citizen, also faced scrutiny over past writings on his blog -- circulated on Twitter by the Slate journalist Jordan Weissmann -- that criticize black protesters in the United States.Those included a 2017 post in which he asked supporters of National Football League players kneeling to protest police brutality, "Would you defend football players waving the confederate flag and dressing in Ku Klux Klan garb during the playing of the national anthem?" Uhlig also wrote a letter to the editor of The New York Times in 2016, complaining about calls for greater diversity in the motion picture industry at the Academy Awards."This whole 'diversity = more American blacks in Hollywood movies' thing?" he wrote. "So so strange. Really."Janet Yellen, the former Federal Reserve chair, said in an email on Wednesday that "the tweets and blog posts by Harald Uhlig are extremely troubling" and that "it would be appropriate for the University of Chicago, which is the publisher of the Journal of Political Economy, to review Uhlig's performance and suitability to continue as editor."Uhlig apologized on Tuesday evening for his Twitter posts. He said in an email interview on Tuesday night that his "flat earther" comparison "appears to have caused irritation" but disagreed with critics who say his comments "hurt and marginalize people of color and their allies in the economics profession; call into question his impartiality in assessing academic work on this and related topics; and damage the standing of the economics discipline in society." The reference to the Klan, he said, was a case where "I chose an extreme example" to make a point about free speech."Discrimination and racism is wrong," Uhlig wrote in an email. Later, he added: "I would love to have more black economists (or is it 'Afro-American economists'?) among our undergraduate students, Ph.D. students and faculty. It is my impression that the good ones are highly sought after. We also have very few American Indians among our colleagues. We need to find good way to change these numbers."Some conservatives hailed Uhlig as a champion of free speech and a victim of "cancel culture" -- although critics said they were not seeking his dismissal from his tenured professorship.Critics, however, held up Uhlig as an example of the deeply embedded advantages of white economists, including nearly full control over the journals that determine, in their selections for publication, which economists receive acclaim, tenure and top jobs."This is a way in which potentially good ideas, potentially good contributors of ideas to the economics profession, have been thwarted because of a gatekeeper," Lisa Cook, a Michigan State University economist and one of the profession's few prominent black women, said in an interview.Cook leads the American Economic Association's Summer Training Program, a decades-old effort to recruit black and Latino students to the profession. She said students often asked her how she overcame discrimination in the field, and whether they would be welcome."They're asking where does this racially hostile environment come from?" she said. "Why does this racial discrimination exist in the pinnacle of the social sciences?"Economics has a history of discrimination and, in some cases, outright racism. George Stigler, a Nobel laureate and an early leader of the American Economic Association, criticized the civil rights movement in 1962 and wrote that African-Americans' disadvantages in the labor market stemmed in part from their "inferiority as a worker.""Lacking education, lacking a tenacity of purpose, lacking a willingness to work hard, he will not be an object of employers' competition," he wrote.Few scholars today would use such language. But the ideas persist: Economics journals are still filled with papers that emphasize differences in education, upbringing or even IQ rather than discrimination or structural barriers.Damon Jones, an economist at the University of Chicago's Harris School of Public Policy, says the lack of diversity in economics affects what is studied and how. "We study things that are related to race and racism all the time, but we are inclined to figure out what other explanations may be at play," he said.This article originally appeared in The New York Times.(C) 2020 The New York Times Company

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