#somewhat reworked my resume

[uxdesignwprofholmes]

Before reworking my resume, it failed to satisfy several of the design principles. The text was not sized or formatted consistently throughout the document, and the alignment was somewhat skewed. The contents were also split oddly, so I had to categorize them again. Inside the categories, the items were out of chronological order. After fixing all of these issues, my resume makes more sense, both visually and contextually.

[indica-lungs]

Now opening the bidding war for my kidneys.

[scintillating-galaxias]

all the time in the world

(read it here on ao3! sorry for the double post of this, i’ll delete the other one now that this one is properly up :,)

-

Perceptor suppresses a yawn as he watches Brainstorm's servos fly over the keyboard to their command console. Perceptor had finished his own tasks long ago, and although he's spent many nights alone in berth while Brainstorm continued to work, he refuses to let him stay here again. So he quietly waits from the doorway, watching his partner's as he hunches over the console. He can tell his partner is tired because instead of being a fluttering blur, Perceptor can actually make out the individual digits of Brainstorm's hand with shocking clarity. Other than the rapid-fire tak-tak-tak of the keys, their lab is almost entirely silent.

It's unnatural for quiet and Brainstorm to exist in the same instance of space. Where one exists, the other does not. But his usual muttering and noisy methods of working had ceased long ago, snuffed out by frustration. Now his work is punctuated only by sharper sounding stabs at the keys or huffs of dissatisfaction. Usually, there's something to be said for when Brainstorm's so focused on his work he forgoes his usual ruckus. It's like his intensity is so compelling, it demands every drop of attention from absolutely everything in the room. Perceptor himself is no less affected by this phenomenon, willingly drawn in by the enigma that is Brainstorm. But knowing it's only happening now purely because he's so exhausted somewhat dampens that fierce swell of adoration.

For the fifth time that night, Perceptor calls, "Brainstorm, please come to berth."

"I've almost got it," comes the predicted response. "Jus' one more test. Last one, I swear."

"You said that seven trials ago."

"Funny how that works out," mutters Brainstorm. But he still doesn't move. After a moment, Perceptor sighs and crosses the room to slot himself right beside Brainstorm. One arm loosely wraps itself around Brainstorm's, and the other loops around his middle. Brainstorm stiffens for a moment, then with one long, hissing exvent, sinks against Perceptor.

"I hate being smart," he moans.

"That's a first for you."

"I can't get my stupid processor to shut up about this thing. I need it to work so I can fraggin' recharge, but I keep messing up 'cause I'm tired." He huffs and throws up throws up the arm not being held by Perceptor exasperatedly. "I just don't get it. I was doing great a few hours ago, and then I just—fizzled out. Blanked. Totally blanked. I don't 'fizzle out,' Percy! I don't 'blank!'"

"You do when you overwork your systems for cycles on end," Perceptor chides gently.

"Eh, I've done worse for longer. You shoulda seen me P.T.S."

"P.T.S.?"

"Pre-timecase success. It's a working title. You would've had a conniption."

"That's not better. You understand that's not any better, right?"

Brainstorm shrugs and resumes typing. Perceptor idly examines the complicated equations and diagrams on the screen. Brainstorm's latest project involved a new form of teleportation technology that, hypothetically, would completely rework the field of space-time travel. Only, right now, it's only capable of spitting out distorted and completely unusable drinking cubes in different places in their lab. Hundreds of them fill the disposal bin in the back. A few more spill onto the floor. Perceptor has one on his desk that vaguely resembles a bit of waste left by alloygator labeled "NW-BS-TST238." It holds approximately a single mouthful of energon and is simultaneously one of Perceptor's most useless and most dear possessions.

"You're working yourself beyond efficiency," Perceptor hums, bumping his helm against Brainstorm's. "You can only go for so long before your efforts begin to go against themselves. You need to recharge."

Brainstorm's arms strain slightly towards the console. Perceptor squeezes him a little bit tighter in response. "I can't stop now," he says reluctantly. "I really have something going here and if I—"

"And you'll think of something even better tomorrow," Perceptor says, unwinding his arm from Brainstorm's to instead thread his digits in between his to hold his servo in the same loose grip. "You always try to make things better. You don't settle for enough. That is only a small fraction of what makes you extraordinary." He presses a soft kiss to the side of Brainstorm's helm. "But that doesn't mean you can completely omit recharging as a necessity for your function. Come."

"Maybe that's what I should work on next," Brainstorm says half-jokingly. Perceptor shoots him a flat glare. "Kidding. I couldn't give up coming online beside you anymore."

Perceptor's monocle fogs up a bit with how quickly his faceplates heat. "Well," he says as diligently as he can, "we wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Pit, no." Brainstorm finally lifts his servos away from the keyboard. "You're right, though. I'm probably gonna end up deleting everything here tomorrow anyway."

He hits "save" and steps away from the console. Or, he at least tries to. Perceptor suspects Brainstorm somehow forgot someone was holding on to him because he stumbles right over Perceptor's pede and only stays upright because of Perceptor's hand on his waist. "Huh," he mumbles.

"Tired, are we?"

"You can't prove anything."

Perceptor chuckles as he gently begins to lead Brainstorm out of the lab and guides them down the darkened hallway to their shared suite. Now that he's out of the lab, Brainstorm seems completely unable to halt the exhaustion washing over him. He falls silent once again, concentrating on placing one pede in front of the other. Perceptor is still practically carrying him by the time they reach the door to their hab suite.

As he enters the code to their suite, Perceptor asks, "I wasn't aware of any upcoming expos."

"Nah, 's a personal project." Brainstorm furrows his browridge slightly. "I think I kinda hate not having a deadline. Back in our original universe, there was always something that necessess—nessess—" He yawns. "Ugh. Required a schedule. Something to work for. A mission, or some weird new way someone got hurt, or, hell, Whirl getting bored. And now... Yeah. There isn't one now, and that's weird, so I gave myself one. Don't get me wrong," he adds hastily. "I love being here, being with you. Infinite universes? Frag yeah! I just haven't... adjusted." "I think I understand."

The door opens. Perceptor steps into the room and carefully maneuvers Brainstorm into the berth first. Everything about him screams fatigue. His biolights are practically pink with how weak they are; Perceptor is the one to move his drooping wings out of the way when Brainstorm can't even summon the energy to do it himself; his field is feeble and fluttery. Perceptor tsks and moves to plug Brainstorm in, only to frown when he sees the dismaying low numbers on the readout attached to their berth. System failure surely would have been imminent if Brainstorm had spent even one more cycle without recharge.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"Worrying you. I don't mean to."

Perceptor smiles as he sits down on the edge of the berth. "I know you don't," he says quietly, stroking Brainstorm's wing with a light touch.

"Good."

Perceptor plugs himself in, then goes to lay down right up against Brainstorm, who sleepily shifts his arm enough to allow Perceptor to nestle in close to his chest. Like most fliers, Brainstorm runs warm, and Perceptor can't resist nudging around their limbs a bit to maximize their contact. Judging by Brainstorm's happy sigh, he doesn't mind the arrangement either.

They share a few long, slow vent cycles together.

"It's incredible, really," Perceptor says.

"What is?" "That we're... free. From our planet. Our old lives. The war. Everything." Brainstorm doesn't answer right away. Perceptor wonders if he's finally fallen into recharge. His field is still enough to make him think so. But after a moment, Brainstorm says with a voice fuzzy with sleep, "Never really thought about it." "We can finally create without fear driving us, or anger, or revenge. We can invent not because of mortal peril, but for our own satisfaction. Your very existence was created for the name of the war. Mine, perhaps less literally so, but most of my function was still spent with the Wreckers or inventing the next biggest weapon, our newest shield, the best way to mobilize ourselves to fight or to run." "But that was then." "That was then," Perceptor agrees softly. "This is now. There's no need to run. There's no need to fight. There's a new purpose for us in this universe." He kisses Brainstorm's chest plate, right over his spark, and smiles when he feels Brainstorm's frame rumble happily beneath his lips. "And we have all the time in the world to find it."

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 6, Number 7

Stars Like Fleas

The summer rolls on in a very peculiar way, with masks and zoom calls and brief, furtive trips to the grocery and the growing realization that normal is months, if not years, away.  Even so, the music remains excellent. Thank god it’s downloadable and accessible even in these strange days we inhabit. Here writers including Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Jonathan Shaw, Ian Mathers, Justin Cober-Lake and Ray Garraty consider improvised drone, precocious alt.country, experimental banjo tunes, rap metal and jazz.  Enjoy.

75 Dollar Bill — Live at Café Oto (75 Dollar Bill’s Social Music series)

Live at Cafe OTO by 75 Dollar Bill

Before 75 Dollar Bill put out those widely revered LPs for Thin Wrist records, Che Chen and Rick Brown made a series of tapes. You could pick them up at shows, packaged in a clamshell case with a business card advertising their services. 2020 is a plague year, so it’s going to be a while before anyone hires them for another party or a parade, but this download-only release fulfills similar functions. It captures the band at a particular moment in time, and it gives you a chance to throw a few bucks their way. Do so and you probably won’t be sorry, because the late 2019 tour documented by Live at Café Oto was unique in 75 Dollar Bill’s history. Chen and Brown did the whole run of shows with double bassist Andrew Lafkas, but they also did nearly all of them without essential gear. It wasn’t until near the end, when they played in England, that Brown was reunited with the big wooden box that is his main percussive instrument. Spread across three sets, this three-hour long album shows how swell they sound when they’ve got a committed agent of swing adding his subtle shift to their Bo Diddley meets Mauritanian wedding music groove. If you know I Was Real, you’ll recognize many of these tunes, and you’ll likely appreciate the differences that 75 Dollar Bill works and reworks upon them.

Bill Meyer

  Bandgang Lonnie Bands \ Bandgang Javar – The Scamily (TF Entertainment \ Empire)

After Bandgang broke up, Lonnie Bands made a successful solo career. His only misfortune, apart from a murder rap prosecutors tried to stick him with, was that he picked up a no-talent partner Javar. Here, surrounded by aggressive but undistinguished artists Mascoe and Paid Will, Lonnie hasn’t learned lesson. Thankfully, Javar makes his presence on The Scamily scarce, and the second half is basically Lonnie’s solo effort with some guests. As usual, Lonnie makes himself busy in illegal activities: drugs, scams, pimping, firearms. He neatly sums up his bad deeds on “Me Too”: “You on that bullshit? Me too.” The Scamily is not that focused as last year’s KOD but Lonnie, with his slick rhyming and catchy hooks, always reinvents a bad man’s lexicon.

Ray Garraty

 Sammy Brue — Crash Test Kid (New West)

Sammy Brue is no longer quite the wunderkind he was when he released his first full-length at 15, but he is still quite impressive here on the follow-up, hitching the spit and fire and wordy angst of, say, Ezra Furman, to the downhome pyrotechnics of Bob Log III. “Teenage Mayhem” explodes with teenage aggression, building out a twitchy blues riff into a monumental rock chorus, while “Crash Test Kid,” is softer sonically, but just as unflinching in its narrative. “Skatepark Doomsday Blues” is epic and grandiose but carries it off, infusing an old man’s blues progressions with the eruptive feelings of young manhood. All the signs point towards Brue growing into his art. He’s already channeling raw emotion into sharp song structures and lyrics without sacrificing their force. It’s a drag getting old, but it doesn’t have to be a step back.

Jennifer Kelly

 John Butcher — On Being Observed (Weight of Wax)

On Being Observed by John Butcher

English saxophonist John Butcher has a deep and diverse discography, much of it on CD. Since the standard of his playing is so high, and the settings and accompanists he selects so diverse, they’ve never been merely about documentation; you’d have to look hard to find a dud on the shelves. But as format preferences, economic shifts, and that damned virus turn everything upside down, Butcher has, like everyone else, found himself suddenly with plenty of time to comb through the hard drives and reassess the music stored there. And since CD manufacturing and distribution has been snarled up worldwide, what better time to transfer some of it straight to yours? On Being Observed comprises six solo performances recorded between 2000 and 2006, and you could not ask for a better introduction to what he does on his own. It features him in the studio, at a jazz festival, and in some unusual acoustic environments which afford a number of ways to understand what it means to read the room. Whether he’s playing to an audience or a 20 second delay in a dis-used gas storage facility, acoustically or amplified, using a soprano or tenor sax, Butcher’s tone is unmistakable, and his sense of how long to develop ideas and how to develop them is peerless.

Bill Meyer.

 Carling & Will — Soon Comes Night (self-released)

Carling & Will (banjo player Carling Berkhout and multi-instrumentalist William Seeders Mosheim) have spent the last few years working out new twists on old-time music. Their debut album Soon Comes Night takes another a step forward from their previous, more traditional sound. Much of the album relies on the interplay of banjo and electric guitar. The pair don't go for outre sounds, but Mosheim provides textures for Berkhout's banjo playing. “Lillie's Lullaby” offers a highlight, not only in its prettiness, but in its revelation of Berkhout's idiosyncracies as she shifts in and out of more typical patterns. The album in itself makes for a lovely collection of songs, but it has both the ups and downs of an act starting to find itself. Carling & Will have a distinct voice, and the more they work to develop that (probably by letting Berkhout get odder and Mosheim explore his voicings a little), the more impressive they'll become. If the pair decides to just focus on smaller updates to mountain music, they've already shown a worthy artistry in that.

Justin Cober-Lake

 Cloud Rat — “Faster” (Self-released)

Faster by Cloud Rat

Like a lot of us, the folks in Cloud Rat have been cooped up behind walls, watching the world burn. But that hasn’t stopped them from making some terrific music. This new track, “Faster,” has been posted to Bandcamp as a benefit for Black Lives Matter-aligned organizations. The song is somewhat in the mode of their most recent EP, Do Not Let Me off the Cliff (2019). That record traded in the band’s characteristic grindpunk intensities for some weirdo experiments in dreampop, noise and gauzy gothic nightmare soundtracks. “Faster” isn’t quite as far out there, and longtime listeners of the band will recognize some of the textures of tracks like “Moksha,” “Raccoon” and “Luminescent Cellar.” The song starts and ends with some lovely acoustic finger-picking by guest musician Andy Gibbs of Thou. In between, there are clean vocals by Madison Marshall that border on the ethereal, and electric riffs that build and build toward majestic heights. Good cause, great tune.

Jonathan Shaw  

 Drakeo the Ruler – Thank You for Using GTL (Stinc Team)

Recorded through a phone line from prison, with beats later provided by JoogSZN, Thank You For Using GTL right after its release was named best prison album since Penitentiary Chances, by now classic joint effort by C-Murder (still incarcerated) and Boosie Badazz (now free). It was too strong a claim to be true. On that duo’s album you can hear a sense of doom hanging over them. When all hope is lost, there is only a prayer, and even that can get lost on its way to God. There was no tomorrow. Drakeo the Ruler, on the other hand, raps like there is tomorrow. Even rough sound of voice recording and “This call is being recorded” tags are more like a necessary sound effect and a gimmick rather than an effect of reality (he couldn’t do it any other way). Strip this tape of all these effects, and you end up with an ordinary rap album, exactly like others released by dozens every week. Maybe there is no reason to thank GTL. It did us a disservice.

Ray Garraty

 Holy Hive — Float Back to You (Big Crown)

These super laid back funk soul cuts stay well inside the pocket, except when they veer unexpectedly into indie-folk. The funk parts come from one-time Dap King Homer Steinweiss, whose loose but transcendent way with a groove can be best heard on “Hypnosis.” Paul Spring, the singer, brings in the psychedelic falsetto, more Justin Vernon than Curtis Mayfield, but still radiant and chilling. The title track plays like a lost 78 soul classic, Spring’s mournful melody wafting skyward as big loopy bass notes and splayed jazz guitar chords drop into a slink and strut of snare drum. That’s maybe what you’d expect from Steinweiss’ Brooklyn soul revivalist resume, but elsewhere, there are surprises. “Red Is the Rose” sounds like Tunng, all space-bopped folk magic and electro-pinging drums, and “Be Thou By My Side” is lattice-picked folk without the slightest hint of syncopation. Both sides of Holy Hive have their sweetness, but only the funk stuff buries a stinger.

Jennifer Kelly    

 Dustin Laurenzi’s Snaketime — Behold (Astral Spirits)

Behold by Dustin Laurenzi

Here’s an irony for you. Composer Louis Hardin, whose habit of dressing up like a Viking and hawking his wares on the streets of mid-20th century NYC turned him into a bona fide attraction, may have conversed with jazz musicians, and shared a record label or two with them. But he didn’t really like jazz. Nonetheless, jazz musicians liked his music back, and they still do. The melodies are graceful, but malleable, and the Bach-meets-powwow rhythms have plenty of productive implications for a percussionist willing to work between the lines. After years of study Chicago-based tenor saxophonist Dustin Laurenzi formed Snaketime, a project named after one of the composer’s rhythmic notions, that turned seven of his compatriots loose upon the Moondog book. Maybe loose isn’t quite the right word, since Laurenzi’s arrangements show deep respect for the original melodies and their exotic vibe. But there’s not a lot of music that can’t be made a bit better when you ask bass clarinetist Jason Stein to improvise from its foundations. This half-hour long tape adds four tunes to the seven on last year’s excellent LP Snaketime: The Music of Moondog, and any one of them could have made the cut if Laurenzi had been given enough rope to make a it a double album in the first place.

Bill Meyer  

 MachineGum — Conduit (Frenchkiss)

Like its Pepto-Bismol-pink cover, these songs seem a bit over-sweet and undernourishing at first, but damned if their synth and disco and art-rock grooves didn’t start to catch on after a few listens. The project, launched in New York City with the mysterious appearance of pink gum machines, is not what you’d expect from a Strokes offshoot, but give Fabrizio Moretti credit for branching out. Here tight, “O Please”’s sleek, wah-wah’d guitars and fat-fingered bass throws off a funk shimmy, but soft, dream-y choruses add an element of electro-pop introspection. “Act of Contrition,” by contrast, swells and swirls with gothy new wave drama, but also vibrates with indie earnestness; it’s like the National playing a New Order cover. If you’d told me a month ago, that I’d be enjoying a super clean, super precise synth-dance album by a member of the Strokes, I’d have laughed, but here we are.

Jennifer Kelly

 Phosphene — Lotus Eaters (Self-Release)

Lotus Eaters by Phosphene

Portland’s Phosphene drifts and drones in a satisfying vintage 4AD-ish way, the serene vocals of Rachel Frankel wafting out over intricate tangles of shoe-gazey guitars as Matthew Hemmerich pounds out motorik rhythms on the kit. This album, the band’s second, was written in the turbulent aftermath of the 2016 election, but it exudes a murky calm. In “Carousel,” for example, Frankel sings about how “everyone gets lost in their own power,” but the temperature remains cool, dream-like, lit by arcs of guitar sound and undergirded by a thudding mantra of bass (Kevin Kaw). The two singles run closest to pop. Bright, upbeat “Cocoon” is spiked with Spoon-ish piano chords, while “The Wave” damn near bubbles with girl pop exuberance. I can see why they’re leaning on those cuts, but I like the cloudy radiance of “Seven Ways,” the morose moods of “The Body” better.

Jennifer Kelly

 Sara Schoenbeck / Wayne Horvitz — Cell Walk (Songlines)

Cell Walk by Wayne Horvitz/Sara Schoenbeck

Bassoonist Sara Schoenbeck and pianist Wayne Horvitz built to their first duo release slowly. They've been playing together since the previous decade in Horvitz's Gravitas Quartet, working together in various styles. The bassoon doesn't necessarily lend itself to jazz, but Schoenbeck's experience with artists like Roscoe Mitchell and Anthony Braxton — as well as in various orchestras and symphonies — has revealed her fluency in different languages. Horvitz and Schoenbeck develop that approach on Cell Walk, mixing composed and improvised tracks, moving from jazz to classical and back again, happily residing in a new music space. The pair's chamber background comes to the fore more than anything else, but the artists' experimental ideas and Horvitz's occasional electronics keep the duo moving forward. The album mostly stays cool, although a few tempo shifts and Schoenbeck's varied tone create unexpected energy any time the disc starts to settle. Schoenbeck and Horvitz fill an unlikely niche, but they also make a good case for expanding it.

Justin Cober-Lake

  R.E. Seraphin — Tiny Shapes (Paisley Shirt)

Tiny Shapes by R.E. Seraphin

Ray Seraphin makes sweet, sharp songs out of guitar jangle and whispers that seem to nestle right in your ear. His first cassette under his own name after a stint in the slightly more abrasive Talkies kicks up a power pop dust and haze a la Luna or, more recently, Plates of Cake. Like these bands, however, he envelops smart, coiling melodies and wild spiralling guitar hijinks in daydreaming inchoate jangles. In “Streetlight,” Seraphin vamps and caroms in spike-y mid-temperature anthemry, crooning “And I won’t feel a thing,” and indeed there’s a misty, nostalgic remove around most of this album’s emotional content. Yet there’s also a classic pop shape that can’t quite be obscured by muttered, offhand delivery. “Fortuna” is the best bit, to my ears, a summer radio megahit heard from several rooms away, bittersweet and slipping away even as it plays.

Jennifer Kelly

 Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO (Amsterdam) (self released)

DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO (Amsterdam) by Stars Like Fleas

New York collective Stars Like Fleas are still gone, but the tracers and streamers left in the air by their passing continue to be entrancing. Whatever collapsed in the wake of their work on the follow up to their epochal LP The Ken Burns Effect can perhaps be glimpsed a little in the bulk of this first (and hopefully not last) release from what they describe as “a huge archive of live and session material.” As the title indicates, six of the 11 tracks here come from a radio session they did during their final tour (coming apart and leaving the final album unfinished upon their return to America). Along with a couple of Ken Burns highlights that session is all new material and it is as rich as anything they released during their lifetime. The collection is rounded out with some brief improvisations and another track intended for the final album, the 7” single “End Times”, and a wonderful performance of “Falstaff” from a Toronto show. Perversely and beautifully enough, the result is not only a must listen for fans of the group, it makes an excellent introduction for anyone who missed them the first time. Bring on the archives!  

Ian Mathers  

 Thecodontion — Supercontinent (I, Voidhanger)

Supercontinent by Thecodontion

 A death metal band entirely devoted to songs about ancient, paleolithic lifeforms and geological history? It’s not the most harebrained musical concept you may have heard — it even makes a sort of sense. What better musical genre to address such massive, atavistic and lumbering forms? Supercontinent is the Italian duo’s first LP, following 2019’s Jurassic EP. As its title suggests, this new Thecodontion record goes way, way back, to primal landforms, before continental drift assembled the earthball’s map into its current shape. Appropriately, the longest track on Supercontinent is “Pangaea,” named for the unimaginably huge late Paleozoic landmass. Thecodontion’s featured instrument is Giuseppe D’Adiutorio’s bass, which he variously thrums, hammers and shreds. He gets some pretty amazing sounds out of it, sometimes producing the soaring, moaning, keening sounds that Greg Lake coaxed out of his bass on the early King Crimson recordings. The proggy reference is pointed; Thecodontion’s high concept project smacks of prog’s grandiosity. But where prog shoots for the heavens, Thecodontion goes bone hunting. It’s interesting work.  

Jonathan Shaw

 Various Artists — Building A Better Reality: A Benefit Compilation (JMY)

Building A Better Reality : A Benefit Compilation by Various Artists

As Bandcamp’s choice to waive its portion of transaction proceeds in favor or certain needs and causes has evolved from an occasional to a monthly event, releases have started to appear which take advantage of both the event and the rapidity of production when no physical objects are being produced. George Floyd died under a policeman’s knee on May 25; this compilation was released just 24 days later, on Juneteenth. Brent Gutzeit of TV Pow secured 106 contributions from friends, friends of friends, and customers of friends — and that’s just the parties that this writer recognizes. They range in length from Kendraplex’s 58 seconds of metallic shredding to Joshua Abrams’ half hour of mournful clarinet and cathartic double bass. You’ll find acoustic protest music, swinging jazz, harsh noise, hip-hop, and a sound collage that includes sounds of protest and mourning. The participants include Simon Joyner, Jsun Borne, I Kong Kult, Jesse Goin, Chris Brokaw, AZITA, Keith Fullerton Whitman, and the Jeb Bishop Trio, along with many, many more. Have I listened to them all yet? Of course not! But the thing with a set like this is that you don’t need to. Put it into your shuffle play and it’ll yield surprises for years to come. Income goes to Black Lives Matter, NAACP Legal Defense Fund. and the Greater Chicago Food Depository.

Bill Meyer

 Michael Vincent Waller — A Song (Longform Editions)

A Song by Michael Vincent Waller

At first listen, you might not guess that composer Michael Vincent Waller’s new EP/song A Song is an improvised piece, and as the surrounding material on Bandcamp makes clear, that’s kind of part of the point. Composition vs. improvisation is the kind of duality where both sides are never really distinct, and Waller is both interested in the history of composers improvising and (possibly naturally) improvises in a way that’s not a million miles away from his compositions. Which also means that just on that first listen the 21 minutes of solo piano found here are frequently beautiful, whether patiently probing a set of arpeggios or momentarily going somewhere a bit darker and deeper near the end. Whether considered as work done around or between more composed ones or in its own right, A Song makes for both a fine follow up to Waller’s 2019 collection Moments and a brief thesis on the always permeable boundary between two methods of creation.  

Ian Mathers

[iaal]

Oooh you're haunting me with that almost dubcon ~ I need more confused Illumi not realizing he's forcing himself on his crush, any idea what yandere Illumi is like ?? Hisoka as well if you're feeling inspired... 😏

I actually wanted to do something more with Illumi, I still don’t take request for scenario but oh well… It’s the continuity of the masturbation ask or more like an alternate ending. If that not what you wanted feel free to ask for another hc!

I didn’t have it proof read so I might rework this scenario later.

WARNING : MAJOR DUB-CON, FLIRTING WITH NON-CON, MANIPULATION, MIND BREAK, CREEPY AS FUCK ILLUMI

«Illumi…Illumi… »

You were close and almost chanting the name of the man that was in your mind since the day you met him. Imagining your hands in his hair as his body was pushing deep into you, dreaming about faces the real one would never makes but the one in your fantasy offers you, a thousand of them, without holding back.

What was not on your mind was the fact that Illumi doesn’t use door and his steps are quieter than the breeze that comes in your hotel room through the open window. A flare of aura pulls you out of your reverie and you eyes snapped open. Illumi was here watching you, the frown on his face contrasting with the enamored eyes you were seeing just a moment earlier.

«Ok that’s bad… Since when was he watching? And why is he mad?» you push the thought in the back of your head as you quickly put back your pants, the blush starting to spread in your cheeks.

«Mh…Illumi… why didn’t you knock?» you ask sheepishly refusing to make eye contact but still tense to have the Zoldyck assassin somewhat mad at you.

Does he think of you as nonprofessional? Sure you were on a mission but you don’t need to move until the middle of the night, right now can be consider your free time. Fuck do the Zoldyck know about the concept of free time?

«You can’t knock on open windows.» His tone is even but he still seems pissed.

«That not what I meant… Ah well, sorry you had to see that? I guess?» You try to apologize but you still don’t know what you did—now that the shock of being caught red hand slowly fads you begin to be the one getting angry. Shouldn’t he be the one to be embarrassed? Shouldn’t he be the one to apologize profusely for invading your privacy? He wasn’t supposed to be here, he has his own room and if he wanted something he could have call or at least letting his presence known before entering your room.

«Why didn’t you ask me?» His question stunned you. He doesn’t mean what you think he means right? There’s no way that the would be so blunt about it. «I finished the reconnaissance for tonight mission but it was optional, Milluki would have let me know if there was a change of plan. If you really wanted to I could have stayed.» Illumi’s expression is still one of annoyance as he continues but there’s something else, it’s always hard to tell with him but it almost looks like confusion. Maybe?

«Illumi the point of masturbation is to do it when you’re alone. You don’t ask for company», you say tentatively, the situation surreal. Sure you like to daydream about him, you just have to look at him to remember why—the man is gorgeous, every ones of his moves gracious and delicate. Even when he kills, he looks more like a dancer than an assassin, you really love to team up with him just so you can see him work—but you cant really say that you’re fond of his company. You can’t read him and he was never really nice with you, not that you want him to, as long as he is efficient you can’t complain and Illumi is nothing but efficient.

So being caught by him in one of your most intimate moment make you feel awkward and restless, like the clash of two worlds. Of course Illumi wouldn’t just let you be, like a decent person, he has to stick around and make all of this even more awkward.

And then you remembered.

You called out his name. You called out Illumi name. Of all people, of all time, it was his name you were saying when you were almost there. Your blush extend to the rest of your face and neck, somehow you can’t even be mad at him anymore for interrupting you as you drown in your shame.

Illumi is still looking at you, the silence between you heavy so when he starts to remove his shirt the sounds is almost deafening.

«Illumi what are you doing?» You still can’t grasp at what’s happening and before you know it your body moves on his own next to him, your hand around his wrist to keep him from unbuttoning his pants.

«I don’t like that you started on your own but I’ll let it slide this time.» He frees his wrist with ease and resumes his undressing, the frown on his face disappearing to his usual blank look.

«No, no that’s not… come on it doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you or whatever is it you want to do», you start to slightly panic—you always had a working relationship with the Zoldyck nothing more and even if you’re in the same buisness you have to admit he makes you uneasy—you don’t really understand where his eagerness cames from, you never pictured him as sexual in any way. «It was just innocent fantasy you know I would never had make a move on you!» Your pleading only seemed to make him more confused.

«I dont understand», he admits «You were saying my name so you were thinking about me. I’m here now where’s the problem?»

«The problem is, Illumi, that it was not an invitation for you to undress and join me», you explain tiredly. You can’t believe you have to say it, you just wish he would leaves now and get back on the subject of tonight hit. «Let’s forget about it ok?» you offer.

Illumi looks up for a moment a hand of his chin, thinking. «Ah! You’re shy.» His fist slap on the palm of his other hand triumphantly «I understand now. It’s ok to be nervous for our first time» The way he’s smiling saying that made your stomach drop.

What does he mean by «our first time»? Like it was something bound to happens eventually. The both of you never flirted, never really talked, he was always cordial at best and cold most the time.

llumi seems inclined to explains further «Today would be our sixth date, I think we have waited long enough.» As he cups your cheek and leans toward you your instinct kick in. You jump as far away from him as you could, your brain trying to catch up with his words.

«We never had a date, we were having missions and I always paid you for you assistance as much as you always paid me for mine.» you say incredulous.

Date? What date? What is he talking about? It can be? Were you dating him unknowingly? You correct this thought; was he dating you unknowingly?

«Of course we were. I always billed you with my lowest price.» his eyebrows getting higher in front of your obliviousness.

«Yeah right silly me» you whisper.

«Get on the bed now», his tone is casual, almost bored now that he thinks that he explains well enough «and start to undress we already lost quite some time.»

He’s expecting you to sleep with him. He doesn’t try to woo you nor get you in some kind of mood, he expects you to just obey him and do as he says. You let the realization sink before talking again.

«Illumi no. I don’t want to, I just want you to leave. I will take the hit with you, you will wire me the payment after the mission but I won’t be seeing you again. That’s just too weird» you expected him to maybe get mad after that but you weren’t expecting him to smile softly to you.

«I told you it’s ok to be nervous that’s why I won’t be angry at you for disobeying this time» and with that he was on you, so fast you didn’t have time to move a muscle, pinning you on the wall before throwing you on the bed. You try to move but you can’t, your try to scream but no sound come out of your mouth. You look at Illumi, your eyes questioning him but deep down you know, you know why you’re finding yourself helpless and at his mercy.

«It’s just to help you relax a bit, don’t worry I’ll remove the pin once you’re calm enough,» he promised, straddling you as his fingers trace the curves of your mouth.

He’s strong, way stronger than anything you would have imagined. You were not one to doubt your skills but the gap in power between you was just depressing. You always saw him kill target, not particularly strong people, just people that other people wanted to see dead. Sometimes he would need to fight but it will be over in a flash. Assassin aren’t fighter, they just need to be killer and that’s the difference between a Zoldyck and you. You ponder your lack of training as Illumi presses his lips gently against yours, his eyes still locked into yours. It would have been romantic if the situation wasn’t so creepy.

«I wanted to wait. I wanted for you to meet my family first,» he said absentmindedly, more to himself than for you. «I talked about you, mother seems to think you’ll be a great addition to the family too» a small smile creeps on his face as he looks at you.

Ah now you’re on your way to become a Zoldyck. If you could laugh you would right now.

Illumi starts kissing your lips with feather light kisses, stroking the side of your face with a hand while the other rests on your shoulder.

«If you hadn’t seduced me I would have wait. I didn’t thought you were so bold. That’s something that would need correcting in the future.» his gentle voice clash with the harshness of his words.

He’s seriously implying that it’s your fault, that your the one forcing his hand. You’re still too stunned to be mad, nothing makes any sense right now. The expression «a deer caught in headlight» never rang so true as right now.

Illumi keeps kissing you tenderly on your lips, cheeks, forehead… his eyes always open as he makes his way to your neck. You have to admit in the fog of your mind his touch feels good, it’s comforting. His skin is cold against yours and it occurs to you he’s in his underwear—you didn’t payed much attention when he was undressing earlier and now your eyes trails down to catch a glimpse of his slender neck and white shoulder. A heat is growing between your legs and you try to ignore it, hating yourself for being turn on in your state of helplessness.

«Your skin is soft» he whispers in the crook of your neck and it sends a shiver down your spine and right to your core. The hand that was on your shoulder trails down under your shirt and climb up, resting just under your breast for a while, Illumi’s thumb tracing circle on your ribs as his lips meet yours again. Softly he takes your lower lip between his and he lets his hand cupping your breast, his finger gently caressing the skin, whitout applying any pressure. He lets out a small sigh when he hears your breath hitches in your throat. Illumi leans back to remove your shirt and you feel your panic coming back.

What were you thinking enjoying yourself? Him not being rough doesn’t mean you wanted this. You don’t think you could take him out but he did says that he’ll removes the pin eventually, you just have to wait for the opportunity and counter attack—maybe it will be enough to at least cool him off. A plan starts to form in your mind and is quickly forgotten once Illumi takes out your bra too.

You glare at him but his tiny smile doesn’t leave his lips

«Don’t be shy, you’re really beautiful. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.» Modesty? Is it what he thinks it’s all about? You want to cry, you want to laugh, you want to do both at the same time, you don’t really know anymore.

Illumi isn’t affected by your internal turmoil, if he was he wouldn’t be pushing your pants down your ankles. He comes back above you, his arms on each side of your heads caging you and his hair cascading around your face. You only see him like that, you can’t close your eyes hypnotized by his gaze and for a moment you think of how beautiful he his. He leans slowly toward you, keeping you trapped in his eyes as his mouth met yours once again. His lips press a bit harder on yours and you feel the tip of his tongue teasing you.

For the first time you’re glad that the needle makes you unable to move because you don’t think you would have been able to not open your mouth to let him in. Unfortunately it doesn’t prevent your breath to fasten

Illumi licks, well laps would be the term, your neck going down and down until he stops at your breasts. He looks at them appreciatively before squeezing them gently, his thumbs rubbing on your now fully erect buds.

You close your eyes as hard as you can to try to divert your attention but the wet spot forming on your panties when his lips encircled your nipple is proof enough that it doesn’t work.

His tongue is soft and warm and his movement slow and gentle—your breath is scattered and you start to wish that he would go a little faster.

When you feel his hardness on your thigh the heat you were feeling morphed into a fire. Illumi didn’t made any sound since the beginning, his eyes were as blank as ever, his touch calculated and not rushed; nothing were really pointing to his arousal except the fact that you were both in your underwear and he was touching you.

When his hand caress your stomach and doesn’t stop when he reached the fabric of your panties the only sound you were able to hear was the beating of your heart in your ears. Your brain stop to work right there.

The pressure of his finger on your clit was just right, the slow cicle just fast enough to make you whine. You can’t whine but the intention was here.

Frustration starts to build up in your body, never have you felt a torture like this as you could only take all of Illumi’s touch without being able to react in any ways.

The mouth that was on your breast litter your belly and hips with kiss as it comes closer to the hand between your legs. As soon as his tongue made contact with the fabric you felt like you were still dressed too much.

Your face was flushed, sweats was pearling on your body and your breathing was labored—Illumi was sucking and licking at your clit and you were close, really close, you could feel it in every nerves of your body.

He stops. Just like that. Leaving you dizzy with need. Illumi crawl back to face you.

«Are you calm now? Can I remove the needle without having you arguing again?» he asks mildly annoyed. You were panting, looking at him with glazed eyes, trying to express how much you were finished questioning whatever he was saying if that’d mean him resuming what he was doing. It seems to be enough form him as he takes your lips once more, his hand fiddling at the base of your neck.

The moment the needle was out your hands were in his hair and your tongue was pushing past his lips. He was frowning but didn’t push you down as you were trying to desperately push your tongue deeper in his mouth, wanting to taste him, to feel him more. At this moment it’s like the dam broke. Your legs were around his waist, your hands couldn’t stay in one place as you were touching him everywhere you were able to reach and your voice was loud, you were never this loud before but you didn’t care.

You noticed that Illumi’s breathing wasn’t as calm and even as it was when you couldn’t move, his hands were also more rough kneading your breast more forcefully and he was pressing against you harder. A choked sound passed his lips when you start rubbing yourself against his length, his own hips moving to match your movements. Lost in the ecstasy your hand close on a fistful of his hair and you pull hard. A hand squeeze your wrist and you let go—you look at Illumi who looks back at you, his eyes still expressionless but his gaze harder. His hand land on your shoulder and he rolls you on you stomach.

«Is that what I earn by being too soft with you? Misbehaving?» he says dryly, one hand pushing your head to the mattress as the other one yank your panties down. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance and you lick your lips in anticipation, but he doesn’t push in. The teasing is killing you and as the second pass you try to wriggle your hips but a strong hand push hard on the small of your back to keep you still.

«I’m sorry I’ll behave» you whine, biting your lips, your hands clawing at the sheets. Illumi doesn’t respond, still pinning you to the bed without moving. «Please, Illumi» you whisper

«Is that what you wanted? Is it what you were hoping for when you were saying my name earlier?» His voice warmer now. The hand on your hair release his pressure and pat your head lightly, softly.

He was right, that what you wanted, you realized just now how everything feels right even with the clumsy start but as you want to answer him your mouth tastes like bile. Maybe you’re still nervous.

«Say it», you can hear the smile on his voice. He press the tip of his dick a bit more against you and your body feels cold.

«That’s what I wanted,» you swallow hard «Please Illumi I want you» you sob.

Illumi pushed into you in one thrust and you gasp. You don’t have time to catch your breath as he pick up the pace fast and deep. It hurts a bit but the pleasure is overwhelming you. In a daze you don’t notice his fingers lacing yours, you don’t notice that you’re properly chanting his name now either.

Your orgasm came hard and unannounced, electricity running down your spine and propagating everywhere.

«That’s it. I love you» he pants softly in your ear, slowing down to kiss you sweetly.

«I love you too» you say back, in a voice that didn’t sounds like your own, still in a haze. At your words he pounds into you faster, coming to a stop to bury himself deep into you—letting out only a quiet «Aah» as he cums.

You need a few more minutes to notice that Illumi is on his side, looking at you.

«We have a couple hour before we need to move. I’ll do it alone, you can rest here.» He kisses your shoulder and move a lock out of your face.

«No it’s ok I can do it» you mumble weakly.

«Of course you can» he looks at you proudly «When we’re finished here we’ll go straight to the Zoldyck mansion, I want to introduce you quickly», he seems to think for a moment «You might already be pregnant» he says as he pulls you into an embrace

[idiosyncreant]

An Inner Need To Jump:

A grown Third Culture Kid talks wanderlust and settling down

originally posted on The Post-Alien Diaries on Wordpress as part of a series I will be reposting here!

I’m thinking about what not to take with me. Today I was going to get my headphones, only to remember they only work with my laptop, now iPhone has opted out of regular jacks. As I reordered my steps to get earbuds instead, I looked at the somewhat worse-for-wear headphones and thought, “I don’t have to bring those with me.”

Something a lot of Third Culture Kids share, and have in common with military kids, is moving often. My family only moved overseas the one time, and moved back, which is somewhat uncommon among my fellows, but we moved an average of every 18 months before I was 18. It still feels weird to have lived in a place for longer than that, and I’ve been in the same house, in the same town for 14 years.

Every 18 months I find it reassuring to have some major life change. This is about as often as I change jobs or pick up new, engrossing pastimes. This would be funnier if it were somehow deliberate. I’ve noted before that I find I do a major clean up or bedroom reworking that often, but it wasn’t until I did a resume that I had to face the reality. No matter how justified I thought each exit from each job was, a pattern is a pattern.

Sometimes I wonder if permanence is in the cards for me. Yesterday, though, I talked to my brother and we had a fun light talk as if we saw each other more than once a year, and it was a good reminder. Relationships can have permanence. Not a static sameness, and of course all people come to an end someday. But as long as I am, I have this brother who was as much part of my formation as a person as anyone aside from my parents. And when I have a relationship with someone, I’m willing to work to maintain it despite distance.

This is a graph someone created to compare the way TCKs tend to make friends. I think it’s a little overstated, but for Americans it’s somewhat true that it’s expected you’d grow in intimacy over time, while people who are used to moving often quite often pick someone they are drawn to and commit to them early.

This is actually kind of similar to the way I approach new pursuits, too. So right now as I draw close to a long-planned and yet still tentative life-change, I’m unsettled. I tried to dive in headlong two years ago, but it didn’t work out. As I tried to settle in to pursue it with more deliberation, it terrified me to do that. I’m not using to planning so far ahead.

TCKs who move a lot in childhood get used to massive changes happening suddenly without their input. The time my family sat down to tell us we were moving to Japan was a notch up the list of intensity, but we’d been sat down for these conversations before. (Granted, some of them were about new additions to the family on the way. We had one of those the same year as well.) And with that comes some weird coping mechanisms.

I have practiced paring down my belongings, in the hopes of someday moving, but this time is more similar to the time I last moved with my family. I am going through some pre-grieving (like I do when a friend is moving) and feeling sad even thought I dearly hope it happens. I also have started pre-packing. I have separated out some books I plan to bring with me, and some belongings. The rest, I assume, will go into storage when I pack.

It feels weird to think of leaving belongings behind in my parents’ home, even though that’s what lots of people do. To be bringing a temporary allotment of my life with me. I’m not used to leaving a place and being able to come back.

But adapting is what I do best. It’s why every few years I find a cliff to jump off of–sometimes a job, sometimes a sport, sometimes a book.

Sometimes an application letter.

[mostfacinorous]

I am a bad person with bad taste, so my prompt is for an AU wherein Loki and Bucky meet by chance sometime between the 1940s-80s. (Whether he’s still Bucky or the Winter Soldier is up to you!) xx

Not bad at all! And here it is, sorry for the delay!The time is handwavy and Bucky’s identity is also– *wiggles fingers* but hey! Have a small thing.

Spells weren’t perfect. Loki knew this.

He had come to Midgard on a search for his uncle; the brother that he was compared to, as Odin and Thor were deemed perfectly alike– but Odin’s brother, Cul… the man Loki had heard whispers of, and nothing more– he was hidden somewhere here, on Midgard.

Locked away to be forgotten.

And Loki wanted to know why. Why his name had been stricken from the records, why his name was hissed at Loki’s back– an omen, a curse, a warning.

Loki wanted to know what he was doing so wrong as to be deemed to have a similar fate awaiting him.

So he’d devised a spell, to find him.

Spells cared naught for names, and Loki had no face that he could focus on, Cul’s exile having come about before either he or Thor was born. And there were no portraits, no proof that he had ever existed. Save the laws that ensured that was the way it should be.

So he created parameters: A spell to find a man whose name was never spoken; a man who few knew of, and all who knew him feared. A man hidden from the world. A powerful man, older than he seemed, who did not age by mortal standards.

It should have worked.

But spells weren’t perfect.

The man it brought him to instead was not expecting him. He was expecting something else, though, as evidenced by the six rounds he managed to fire before Loki had even opened his mouth.

“Not goin’ back.” The man said firmly, gun still leveled at Loki, despite the fact that none of his bullets had penetrated Loki’s shields.

“I wouldn’t dream of making you.” Loki told him evenly, unsure where ‘back’ even was. “Just to be certain– you aren’t Cul, are you?”

But he couldn’t be. He was, distinctly, human. Despite the augmentations he boasted.

The man stared him down, and frowned.

“I don’t know. You’re not Russian.”

“No.” Loki said, the word almost lazy, though he himself was frankly intrigued.

“Do you not know who you are?”

“Asset.” The man told him. “And something else. Been awake too long. Handler got taken out.”

Loki was unsure what the majority of that meant.

“Perhaps sleep will help you, then?”

The guy nodded and took a step forward.

“Our position is compromised. Shooting,” he explained, almost apologetically, Loki thought.

“…Yes.” He answered, slowly.

“This way.” The man said, turning away and obviously expecting to be followed. He barely broke his stride to lift a bag that sounded as if it were filled with nothing but more weapons, then headed deeper into the building.

Loki considered for the space of a moment.

His spell hadn’t worked. He had no idea where on Midgard he was, and to get here he’d had to slip between worlds and slip past Heimdall’s ever watchful eye.

It would not last. In the meantime, though, why not?

It wasn’t as if the man could hurt him, nor did he seem particularly inclined, now that Loki was not surprising him. In fact, he seemed to have accepted Loki fairly quickly, once he’d ascertained that he wasn’t working to capture him. Not particularly communicative, but that was alright. It made him more of a mystery, more interesting. And it made up Loki’s mind.

He followed.

The man led him to a fire escape, down a ladder, and into an alley, and Loki followed gamely, if a bit bemused by all of this.

“Where are we going?” Loki asked, and the man turned to glare at him, raised one hand to his lips, and pointed upwards vaguely.

Their own version of Heimdall? Loki wondered. He didn’t ask, though, instead resuming walking when the man flicked his metal fingers forward, obviously picking a direction.

They moved, silently, for about 40 minutes, looping in a circle once or twice, Loki assumed, so the man could be certain they were not being followed.

Eventually, he found his way to where they had been headed, opened a basement window, and slid inside, holding the window open for Loki to do the same.

He did, loathe as he was to lay on the ground to do so.

Once the window was closed behind them, the man flipped on some lights and nodded.

“Emptied this safehouse a week ago, left clues to make it look like I was leaving the country. They left three days ago. Won’t be back for a while. Should be safe here, for now.”

He looked around the room, then slid a shelf aside, opened a panel, and flipped a switch.

Metal covers engaged, and Loki realized with a start that they were locked in, and the rest of the world locked out.

“Why have you brought me here?” he asked, careful not to anger the man.

“Sleep?” He said, head cocking to the side. “You said… might help.”

Loki looked around, not seeing anything that looked particularly like a bed.

“Right. But my role in this?” He asked, and the man tilted his head to the opposite side.

“Keep watch.” He told him frankly, and with that he pulled out his gun, turned it, and offered it to Loki.

Loki took it gingerly, not entirely sure how such things worked.

“Ah.” He said. “Right.”

He had no idea what, in this man’s mind, qualified him as trustworthy enough to watch over him while he slept, considering he knew nothing of Loki save that he was ‘not Russian’.

Apparently that would do, though, because the man was already curling up, his bag of supplies functioning like a pillow, and his body laid out on the cold concrete as if he had never experienced anything better.

Loki hoisted himself up onto a workbench that leaned against one wall, and frowned, trying to puzzle through this dilemma.

This trip– and that spell– were a wash. That much was certain. He needed to rework it, to research further, find out more about Cul before he would have any chance of finding him. His search was, as of yet, entirely too broad.

As for this new Midgardian pet he seemed to have picked up–

And that was it, wasn’t it? The man reminded him somewhat of a dog, from the way he cocked his head to the way he strained his ears, eyes chasing shadows. Not a hunting dog, nor a lady’s toy, but the sort that had been kicked around. Wary, hungry…

Tired.

And he was, even now, twitching on the floor. Running in a sleep that by all rights he should barely have had time to fall into.

Loki let him run.

If the man needed sleep and these dreams came that swiftly, the kindest thing to do was let him reach the other side of them. Dreams such as those waited for you to return to sleep, to play themselves out.

The good ones were rarely so polite.

Eventually he stilled, though his twitching was still sometimes violent. He seemed to stay solidly asleep through all of it, and though Loki hadn’t meant to actually keep watch over him, he found himself doing it just the same.

The arm was strange, at once clumsy and elegant. Strong and well designed, but created in such a way that he was certain it caused the man pain. It seemed too heavy for his body, too big by a bit. He was muscular, yes, but his other side didn’t quite match. And it was– it didn’t always react the way he expected it to, it seemed. Like sometimes he forgot it was made of metal.

Loki watched as he smacked himself in the face with that hand, and what might be batting at a fly for anyone else left a huge, dark bruise that blossomed across his face, and then faded almost as quickly as it had come.

He was very far from the mortals Loki had encountered here before and he wasn’t sure if he was the norm now, or if he was something wholly different for this world.

He suspected it was the latter, though, or the parameters of the spell that Loki had cast would not have singled him out. And no matter how exceptional the man, being unable to sleep without guard and being alone was not something he could sustain indefinitely.

Loki would give him this one night’s respite. He would ask what questions he could, and then he would return home, ape a bit about his reasons for going to midgard, maybe imply that he’d taken a lover or three, and work on reshaping his spell.

In fact, it seemed he had much of a night left to do that now; and why not?

He conjured his journal and took up a pen, beginning to list things he might do to better locate his uncle.

They were tied together by blood, after all; that surely had to count for something. Even if he had been warned, time and again, against attempting bloodwork. Other sorcerers and mages did it all the time. Royal blood couldn’t be so special, so different…

He passed hours making notes.

Hours enough that, absorbed, he did not immediately notice when the man rose, jumping slightly when he approached.

“Who are you looking for?” He asked, voice rusty and rougher, if possible, than the night before. However, he seemed a bit more…cognizant.

“My uncle. He was sent away from my home before I was born. I have reason to believe he is hiding nearby, or perhaps imprisoned. Our records were not clear.”

The man looked surprised, then pleased.

“You’re here to rescue him?”

Loki pursed his lips. He hadn’t thought that far ahead; of course he couldn’t bring Cul back with him.

“Perhaps. I want to talk to him, find out his version of what happened. I’ll decide from there if he deserves my help.”

Though there was a distinct line between breaking a few rules to talk to a banished relative and outright treason.

Fortunately, Loki was fairly good at balancing along such lines. And that was one balancing act he would worry about when he came to it.

Still, if anything his answer only seemed to please the man further. He nodded, satisfied.

“You remind me of someone.” He said, then his face fell and his brow furrowed, clearly trying to remember who.

Perhaps someone he hoped would rescue him.

“And who is it you’re looking for?” Loki asked gently, and the man tilted his head, looking almost as if he were listening for something, until his face went blank and he straightened up again.

“Handler.” He said simply.

Loki couldn’t claim to understand.

“And who is that?” he asked.

The man frowned.

“You?” Doubt crept into his voice, and he lost that emotionless look, the mask crumbling only moments after first appearing.

“No.” Loki said firmly. “I will have to leave soon, I’m not… whoever it is you’re looking for.”

If the man was disappointed, he hid it well.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Loki repeated. “So. You have slept. Do you feel better for it?”

The man flexed his hands, looking down over himself.

“Yes. For now. Thank you.”

Loki inclined his head.

“So what is next?”

The man frowned again, then slumped a little, his posture sagging.

“Run. Hide. Long as I can.”

“Is there no way to escape their reach?” He asked.

The man shook his head.

“They’re everywhere, all over the world. I can hide for a while but… I think I’ve done this before. I think I’ve failed before.”

Loki watched him, then made a split second decision.

He wasn’t human, exactly, and even if he were… if he claimed asylum, and Loki granted it, as Prince of Asgard, he thought he would be able to keep him safe. None would force him to break an oath, after all.

“Come with me.” he said. “I will take you where they cannot follow. You will have as much sleep as you like and… maybe you will be able to aid me on my search, and if you recall who you are looking for, I may yet aid you in yours.”

The man’s face smoothed again, and his lips twitched upwards at the corners.

“Yeah? Alright. I’m with you–” He trailed off, brow creasing and words fading. Loki waited, but he just shook himself and shrugged.

He hefted his bagonto his back, retracted the metal, and nodded.

“Where are we going?” He asked, as they climbed out of the holding. Loki gestured, dropping his spell to hide him from Heimdall’s gaze, and took hold of the man.

“Asgard.” he told him. “I suppose you’ll need a name, though. What did you say you were called?”

“Asset.” The man answered promptly. “Or, The Winter Soldier.”

“Hm.” Loki said. “We’ll work on it. Heimdall?” And like that, the sky opened, and the fate of the Soldier was changed.

[backtothestart02]

Searching for a Temporary Beta

Hey all!

So, my beta is taking a well-deserved holiday hiatus starting today and ending 1/18/18. Given that, regardless if I write anything new over the show’s hiatus, it will not be posted until after the show resumes. I’m cool with waiting, aside from the fact that I know I promised to post other fics (that honeymoon multi-chap for instance) over the hiatus, and so this is somewhat problematic since I don’t trust myself to post anything anymore without another set of eyes looking over it first.

If anyone is interested in taking on the task of looking over my fics for me, before you volunteer yourself, you should know there are certain things I am accustomed to in the beta’ing process. My beta isn’t just my beta. She is my partner in fine-tuning my fics, helping me brainstorm and rework structural things if need be. This is not just a grammatical thing or making sure I’ve written the characters in character. This is full involvement in making my fics the best they can possibly be - without rewriting them extensively (b/c obvs then they’d be more yours than they are mine XD).

Here are a few things that are included in the process:

1) Grammar, sentence structure, vocabulary, etc. (These are common beta things, so it shouldn’t be something new. I’m also going to pretty much assume you’re an A+ grammatical genius and not question something you correct unless it looks really off; then I might ask you about it for clarification.)

2) Brainstorming (If I’m stuck with what to do next or I don’t know how to reword something, I will look to you for suggestions. This also goes for if there are multiple ways to say something, I will want your opinion on what you think is best - this also applies to synopses and titles, not just narrative/dialogue.)

3) Full Understanding (I will expect you to know the characters, and understand the fic(s), and tell me if you don’t understand the fic, b/c if you don’t, chances are someone else won’t either.)

4) I use Word to write my fics, and I send them via email. (With my current beta, she adds in corrections/comments w/in Word, and then emails it back to me. Then we discuss it via DM. I have used Google Doc when beta’ing for someone else personally, so I’m open to it or other methods you may have, but there’s a possibility I’ll be confused, and you’ll have to explain it to me. lol.)

Those points are essentially the gist of what I go through with my beta currently. If that seems overwhelming or like wow, I should be doing some of that on my own and not be so dependent on someone else... I totally get that, and you’re prob right, but this is what I’m used to, and it’s been really helpful in improving me as a writer.

Some of the content you can be expected to come across if you choose to help me as a beta are as follows: smut, cursing, romance, angst, canon-compliance, drama, AU, humor, westallen, a love for Barry especially. (If any of these make you uncomfortable, I will just be sure to not send you any of my fics that may contain that material. I’m not really sure at the moment what my fics for the next month will have, but smut will def be in there, prob excessively.)

Again, if no one feels brave enough to help me out, just be aware that after the two fics I’ll be posting in the coming week, there will not be any more fics from me until late January/early February (at which point prob a ton will come pouring out at once, lol). I’m sure there will be plenty of other fic writers giving you the goods, but for my sanity I just really don’t think I can post anything new without a beta.

Let me know if you’re interested! There’s no deadline for this at the moment, since I don’t have anything new written yet. (My beta has generously beta’d my latest two fics last minute that I’ll be posting in a few days.)

And hey, if this is any incentive, as soon as my lovely regular beta returns, the very next fic I’ll write can be any of your choosing. Whether it’s a new prompt for a oneshot or an update on a multichap I’ve already started or my own oneshot idea I have (of which I have several), I will be more than happy to write that up for you as quick as I possibly can to thank you for your seasonal service. ;)

Thank you for your consideration!

~Lauren

[podcake]

Podcasts & Style/Substance

I must share to you readers that I am in the middle of a very much expected but somewhat rough decision at the moment. After about six or more years of having the same black Toshiba laptop that has stored information from middle school crossover fanfiction to job resumes to questionable png files, I’m afraid it has officially kicked the bucket or at least fallen into some kind of cybernetic limbo.��

After one faithful day when it gave itself one less kick to grant me the privilege of finishing Miss Koboyashi’s Dragon Maid and was forced onto an infinite black screen for all eternity, it dawned on me that my little pal that has been my partner in blogging for years just couldn’t pull through the strength anymore. 

It was an old, busted thing by now-touch pad now replaced by a wireless mouse, brown-gray dust permanently caked onto the screen and in between the keyboard from lord knows wear, a severe lag that regularly musters an effort to keep my video files and word documents secure as I mindlessly surf the internet, and a battery that kept my computer at a pathetic half way point that threatened to undo all of my current progress if a passing dog were to trip the wire at the slightest. 

Little Tobi (as I called them) was a good friend and I will dearly miss them and the disposable information I will lose from letting it rot in the bottom of my bed for now. I write this now from my mother’s laptop as I secretly plan out my next move. 

The likely preceding from here is that I have plans to buy a new laptop to continue my work, to which you are entirely right. I am already aware that the simple black Toshiba with its decent screen size and functional keyboard are all I need for a few extra years of blogging and book pitches, but it’s so…boring. 

Beyond my desktop customization, there’s not much to old Tobi that really sparked the imagination of what kind of person I am and what business I have with a laptop from the get-go. To any passerby I could easily be an accountant or an overworked college student grinding through an essay. 

It’s a bland but perfectly usable piece of machinery that has done me no wrong for years, and yet I find myself eager to pursue something different. Something more pink.

I am set for my next laptop to be a pink one and my itchy buying finger might just make that happen before the summer ends. And my strong, personal desire for every item within my reach to be pink-or something related to pink-tends to skew my idea about features and actual quality. 

My sights have been set on a smaller computer with less memory and detachable keyboard for about a week and I am so very close to just finalizing the deal without anyone else’s input because…it’s pink. And I like pink.

This got me thinking about how we as content creators and consumers tend to be divided over what we perceive as genuine quality in our media. Specifically targeting podcasts, I do believe the concept of style and substance is a very common recurrence we come across and I have mentioned it at least vaguely in most of my reviews and other articles. 

The term “style vs substance” tends to have a fairly flexible meaning behind it that can pertain to multiple aspects at once. This contrast can come to mind when dealing with everyday obstacles and personal preferences over pretty much anything, though let’s talk about how it pertains to audio fiction since I know that’s what you’re here for.

Substance has to mainly deal with the idea of something’s overall depth and purpose. Substance aims to tell you one thing or multiple things and provide it in such a way that the idea can’t be muddled or misinterpreted. Be it an Aesop or a specific type of theme or message, substance is meant to leave an impression in more of the practical variety.

Style is much different. Style can be easily defined as to how something is done or presented in a way that is distinctly unique. Style aims to be eye-catching, interesting, or to generally appeal to a certain type of aesthetic choice. It wants to look good or cool or scary or weird and will go by any stretch of the imagination to fulfill that.

A story that relies too heavily on substance will certainly have a focal point and a clear narrative that is easy to digest, but it will be at the risk of being unremarkable. It will not stick with a listener if an audio drama has a very clean cut story and characters that all fit predetermined roles but no real flair of individuality that makes its whole plot really ring any bells besides the ones set to a very specific tune. 

On the flip side of this coin, too much style can provide an entirely different dilemma. This creates the situation in a which a show is rich in pretty little details and nice music and the occasional wit, but it will ultimately be as compelling as a screensaver. These stories don’t exist in the realm of being genuinely deep or progressive but rather to just to give off a unique vibe, which can make it rather hollow in everything else. 

In my last article, I did go on about my irritation with podcasts that don’t cater to a story and care more about being quirky for quirky’s sake, namely about the over saturation of the “fake radio show” format that is hopefully being reworked by The Bridge as we speak, but that’s a topic I’ve ragged on enough one March ago.

And despite this, I am lucky enough to be invested in a type of medium that seems to have this style and substance balance pretty well figured out. 

Not everyone is a winner in this department, though I am confident in my belief that many podcast writers know that their vision is not complete without a purpose and that this purpose can stay relevant with just the right amount of tasteful flourish. 

As this is a fairly open-ended topic, there is more than one way to manage this balance. For example, I believe a show is capable of being more heavy on substance while still having a style because the aesthetic of choice was minimalist to begin with. Titles that comes to mind is The Bright Sessions, Wolf 359, and the newest show I’ve gotten around to simply titled OAKPODCAST. 

I won’t go into much detail about each one though all of them do cater more to providing substance over style in a way that works. They are known best for their character focus, engaging dialogue and some occasional thoughtful narration, and mostly realistic portrayal of its setting even though they will occasionally lean heavily on otherworldly elements to show the setting is not as normal as it appears. 

These shows are abundant in the substance category because its ideas are meant to be narrowed down to a few very specific idea pertaining to whatever arc or character they may focusing on. And yet they are still memorable because they exist in a world that is just different enough from our own that we’d like to learn more about it.

Shows that play more into style than substance can be equally engaging. Ones that come to mind are Hadron Gospel Hour and The Meat Blockade, two very different shows that are dedicated to strong stylistic choices that don’t interfere with its narrative. 

Be it Gospel Hour with its love for dimensional travel and ideas directly inspired from seventies and eighties pop culture or The Meat Blockade’s ideas drawn from the likes of Kafkaesque and surreal humor and just the right touch of Broadway, it’s clear where the focus is meant to be without it being a deal breaker on where the story lies in all this. Thus the strange decisions work as a service to the story rather than it being treated as a lesser priority. 

Going back to the Broadway thing, I wasn’t kidding. The Meat Blockade has an entire, roughly four minute segment in their fifth episode where a group of anthropomorphic frogs break out in a music number…and it works really well because it’s ultimately an exposition song that describes their current situation, the hidden lore about the setting, some hints of foreshadow, and nicely transitions into the next scene and leaves on a cliff hanger for episode six.

It’s such a strange choice editing and writing wise and I’m choosing to provide this as an example because it’s a damn excellent way to establish creativity and tasteful zaniness that still works to inform.

But it is also possible to have a fifty-fifty situation going on where the style and the substance coexist so well that one cannot exist without the other.

Our Fair City comes to mind where it’s richly described dystopian world and unique characters are used to explore more in-depth themes and still have one single tale to tell, or, multiple branching tales. 

The same can apply to Greater Boston with just a touch more realism thrown into the mix, creating a fairly stylish and satisfying audio drama about life in a fictionalized version of a real city.

The key here is that the world and its rules play a part in why the characters act the way they do which lets it be equal parts distinct and fulfilling as a story.

Without these aesthetic decisions in mind, some of these shows simply wouldn’t be what they are while the same can apply the substance latent shows who wouldn’t be the same without their choice of character interaction and treatment of specific themes. 

Some are far more likely to lean more towards one than the other but that’s because it’s not a necessity for The Bright Sessions to have a jazzy backtrack and it’s not expected for The Meat Blockade to have a long and detailed monologue about Berenger’s relationship with his girlfriend. 

But that’s the interesting thing about the style and substance equation-it can be switched around as many times as necessary to fit a story’s current narrative. Maybe one day we learn the tragic backstory of a single gag character, maybe one day there will be a stretch of retro-funk music played over a straight faced hero’s inner thoughts. 

It’s when these ideas are of service to the stakes and a characters’ all around presence that the script can be flipped and deliver a much needed change of tone that keeps the listener on their toes.

This won’t only be impressive on a sound design and editing standpoint, but also establish some diversity in the writing style to keep the story varied and interesting. 

Whatever the balance may be, it must be one that lets the story flourish in a way that feels authentic and natural. A concept is only as strong as the effort going into it. 

Don’t allow a story to be expressed in a distinct way then it won’t be remembered but let flair and pizzazz be too much of a focus and your final product will come off as meaningless fluff. 

Let your world building and natural need for sparkle be the thing that draws in the viewer rather than isolate them from the goings on of what is especially important. 

Don’t let characters fade into oblivion from a need to make a story easy to understand, let them be factors and active players, not mouthpieces and exposition machines. 

And if one certain element speaks to your project more than the other, that is entirely understandable. Certain plots are better seen through a substance perspective than a stylish one and some ideas are best seen with stylish decisions being a priority with substance being a smaller part of the equation.

I suppose you could say it’s less a case of style vs substance than it is style/substance or substance/style-it’s a balancing act that comes with compromise and patience rather, not just a case of right and wrong.

So thus my decision about what new laptop I should get to replace my old one is less a choice of a functional laptop or a pink laptop, but rather settling on a functional pink laptop.

[phynxrizng]

THE FOUR RULES AND THE LAW OF WHITE WITCHCRAFT

The Four Rules and The Law of White Witchcraft © 1996 White Circle Enterprises

SOURCE, Torin Wathame

**Notice**

This document may be distributed freely so long as it is not altered, edited, or changed in any way from its original form. A copy of this document in its true original form may be gotten from our home page. In order to live a full and successful life as a ‘White Witch’, one must first understand what the rules of the game are. The principles which are put forth below are intended to be a very simple, basic way to remember the way of the White Craft.

The total idea may be visualized as a four legged stool. Each of the Rules can be seen as a leg and The Law may be seen as the seat. The Rules without The Law are uncomfortable and nigh on to useless in their function. The Law without the Rules gives you a comfortable place to be, but it is rather impractical and again, nearly useless. However, when all of these are brought together they make a highly stable, functional, and enjoyable life.

The Four Rules

1. Live - Live each day as if it were your last, for one day you will be right. 2. Love - Love yourself first and foremost. For when you truly love yourself, loving those around you will come as easily as breathing - and we all must breathe. 3. Learn - Learn your life’s lessons - each as it comes - for that is the reason we are here. 4. Enjoy - Enjoy your life, because if you do not most likely someone else will enjoy it for you… and then your time here will have been wasted.

The Law: Harm None.

Explanations Live

The first Rule put forth sounds pretty straight forward at first. Then you actually try to live it! :) Living each day as if it were your last means maximizing your potential for every moment that you have been given.

If you are let go from your job… that is an opportunity to face truth and see what you can do to make yourself more marketable and go get a BETTER job. Or, if you are highly motivated, dedicated, and a risk taker you can take that chance to start your own company.

When I first began to follow these principles, my business was not very successful, my marriage was only tolerable, and I often felt depressed about my situation as a whole. Then I began to live each moment.'Carpe Diem’ (Seize the day) became my motto. I began to maximize every moment and live in the moment, not for the moment.

This does not mean that in order to be a good witch that you have to work like a rabid squirrel on 'speed’… but it does mean that you have to be honest with yourself to see what your situation really is and to make the most of it. I believe that if I can go to bed at night and think to myself that I had done the very best I could that day with the information I had at each moment of opportunity, then the day was a success. But if I go to bed thinking that I had let an opportunity slip away I do not beat myself up over it. I simply say to myself, “Gee Torin, that was one you missed. I’ll get it the next time it comes along.”

2. Love

What is life without love? Honestly, I can’t imagine what that would be like. Yet many people live their lives without the most important form of love there is - the love of the self. If you truly understand yourself and are willing to take responsibility for your own actions you will suddenly find a great love for yourself.

In order to give free and unconditional love to another person you must first have that kind of feeling for yourself. This is all this means. Learn

One of the cornerstones of The Craft is the belief that our souls are here on this plane of existence at this point in time to learn lessons. Your lessons are different from (although probably quite similar to) my own. Learn what life teaches you. It is no more difficult than this.

3 .Enjoy

The life of the witch does not require you to live your life in suffering nor poverty. There are no mandates for pain, unhappiness, or unpleasantness. We do not see suffering as the 'key’ to getting into Heaven (or the Summerlands as some of us call it). Indeed, we see such things as exactly what they are… unpleasant! This does not mean that we never have unpleasant things happen to us, nor that we walk around in a constant state of denial.

We see suffering as either the result of an action we took (i.e. going to jail for robbing a bank) or the way that The Unknown (see “The Deities of Witches” by Torin W.) has chosen to teach us a lesson which we need to learn but have not done anything consciously to bring about the circumstances (i.e. the totally unexpected death of a close friend).

Witch Craft allows you to reap all of the happiness and prosperity from your life that you can muster… so long as you stay within the accepted boundaries. For instance, if you work hard at an honest job you like to do then there is nothing which says you should feel badly for being more successful than others.

But if you rob a bank, you may be happy with the things that the money can buy for a short period of time, but eventually you will suffer far greater than if you had simply worked for it.

(I know this may sound somewhat like a contradiction to what I said earlier, but I do not believe in keeping a job which does not give me enough pleasure, satisfaction, and money to make up for the difficulties I endure.)

4. The Law: Harm None

I have been asked to explain this statement more than all of the previous ideas combined. I often describe 'Harm None’ as “the Law which must remain unbroken, but cannot remain whole at all times.” Think about it, you can’t do it as a human being.

In order to actually harm none you would have to be in total and complete harmony with all things int he Universe at exactly the same time. Your immune system would not kill bacteria and other infections (because that would be harming them).

Nor would you allow the bacteria to infect you because that would cause harm to yourself. You would not eat meat, nor vegetables because it would cause the destruction of either. Neither would you not eat because that would harm you. Do you see how this is simply an impossibility?

What I teach my students is to take great pains to Harm None and to think out the results of any act as far as possible ahead of time. I also stress that whenever magics are being worked that the free will of any individual or group should never be infringed.

I have been asked specifically about the use of various types of drugs in witchcraft and their relationship to the 'Harm None’ principle. I believe that The Bright Ones gave us a sober state of mind for a reason.

They also gave our brains some of the most potent chemicals known to man for achieving altered states of consciousness. Therefore i see no reason to alter the chemistry of the brain in order to 'gain enlightenment’. Ask any recovering drug addict… he/she will tell you that the drugs lie to you.

Because of part of the training I give, I require that no illegal drugs are used while under my tutelage. In fact, if a student becomes sick during training and requires a prescription strength pain reliever, the training schedule is reworked to allow for the purging of the body before training resumes.

One of my students used to do a good deal of psychotropic drugs (i.e. LSD, mushrooms, etc.). Then he and I began to work together. After a few months of training, we worked a circle to allow him to develope his psychic senses (i.e. clairaudience, clairvoyance, etc.) When he left the circle he related to me a feeling such as none he had ever known. His words were, “It was a hundred thousand times better then the best acid trip I had ever taken.”

In short, I personally feel that drugs can be a great hinderance and only cause damage to your soul. But I also recognize the free will of the individual. I can only tell you that in my own perception, drugs do cause harm to you.

Merry Part and Blessed Be Torin W.

SOURCE, the pagan library.COM

POSTED by, PHYNXRIZNG

[adriennescomingbacktolife]

The Good, The Bad, and The Lonely

OOC: A collab piece with Silvio Leon!

“Hey! Nice day for a walk in the park.”    Silvio beamed at Adrienne as she approached. He’d sent her a message to meet at Pierce’s Park. Dressed in blue jeans, brown leather sandals and a sleeveless red shirt, he stood from his seat on a bench and waved her over. It was good to see her - not just for the purpose of work, but also for the pleasure of her company. Setting down roots in a new town and reworking a social network from the ground up was difficult, but it also presented new opportunities; new stories.    “Nice kicks! Putting that winner’s purse to good use, huh?” he said with a grin.    After waving, she looked at her New Balances and shrugged with her reply, “Oh, these? I got these with my tag match winnings. My old ones were coming apart at the seams.”    Adrienne appreciated that it wasn’t raining today. It was just very, very hot. So she opted for a nondescript white tank top and jean shorts.    “Nate did buy me all new ring attire for the big show, though.” She said with a wry smile.    Silvio laughed, closing the distance between them and raising a brow. “That was a helluva match. Never doubted you for a minute, though. Congrats!”    Seeing Adrienne’s continued success was exciting. He reflected on the woman he’d met with at the cafe just a few weeks ago and how much of a difference there already was between her and this freshly triumphant Adrienne Levi. Winning wasn’t everything, but the new vibrancy he saw in her promos, her ring-work, and just the way she held herself made him glad.    “Victory suits you. Looking forward to continuing that win streak at WAR?”    Taking in all of the unorthodox architecture surrounding them, Adrienne considered that. Knox had told her to essentially revel in these moments. She finally answered after a bit of silence during their stroll, “Sure. Winning’s fun. I try not to make too big a deal about it, Silvio. Knew someone who did. Know lots of people who do.”    Adrienne stuck her hands in her pockets, head hung low as she trailed off.    He raised a brow, cocking his head to one side.    “Hey...sorry, I didn’t mean to hit a nerve or anything. Something on your mind? You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t feel like it, but I’m always happy to lend an ear.”    Stopping, she looked around. As of late, Adrienne had been hearing things from folks that couldn’t possibly know.    “No need to apologize. As for that, I’m not sure.” She didn’t want to betray Matt’s trust. Their conversations were private but something he said resonated with her in the wrong way. Her voice lowered a little, “I appreciate what you’ve done. Like more than you could ever know. But I’m not sure if I can be what is expected of me. I’ve done bad things, Silvio.”    He blinked in surprise before gesturing for her to have a seat with him on a nearby bench. “Everyone has done bad things, Adrienne. A bad action doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person.” Pausing, he glanced around before nodding to a man having a stroll with his wife, their children laughing and racing before them. “Pretty sure that guy’s new in town; or at least to this park. See how he keeps patting his back pocket? That’s where his wallet is. When people are out and about, especially in places that might be unfamiliar to them, they tend to touch things they value to make sure they’re still there; still safe.” Leaning back, he continued in a conversational tone. “Now, if someone were to take that wallet, he’d probably notice pretty quickly, and he might be able to spot the thief before they had a chance to get away. That’s why you leave a bunk biscuit in its place. A bunk biscuit is an object that is about the same size and weight as the one that’s being stolen. It’s tricky to do, but it’s worth it because it’ll take longer for him to realize anything’s gone amiss. By that time, the person stealing the wallet will be long gone.”    Looking at Adrienne, he gives her a little smile.    “How do you think I know that?”    Looking at the man with the family and then back to Silvio, Adrienne returned the smile sheepishly. Her answer was innocent in nature, “Books?”    But what he said started to set in.    “Oh. OH. Well, I won’t tell anyone.”    His grin widened. “It’s okay. Look, sometimes people find themselves in extraordinary circumstances and they do things they wouldn’t have expected to do.” Silvio shrugged. “I wasn’t a bad kid, I was just poor and hungry and desperate. Life can take us places we weren’t prepared for, and we do the best given the circumstances.” Looking at her, his expression softened. “I’m sure whatever you’ve done, you did because your options were limited or you were in a desperate situation. I wouldn’t judge you for that.”    She appreciated Leon sharing like this. Adrienne felt a compulsion to let everything out but nobody deserved that. Trying her best to commiserate, she mumbled, “Thanks. I did things for Danny. Things I’m not proud of.”    Silvio felt his heart give a lurch at that. He’d never met Danny Levi, but the tone she used to talk about him, her body language when he came up, raised some red flags. His body posture relaxed, and his own voice became lower and softer. “Yeah?” he murmured. “Is it something that’s hurting you now? I mean, do you need help or some time for yourself? The match is just a match - if you need to take care of yourself, that’s way more important.”    She smiled at Silvio’s kindness. Her eyes were mired in the sadness of the acts but she had promised herself that they would not define her.    “I’ve been reminded of a lot lately. But, gosh, Silvio, I’m so tired of being alone. I hate Clearwater. Feels like my tomb. And I guess it’s obvious: Danny’s not really in the picture anymore. I don’t think he’s coming back. I wish he would.” Subconsciously twisting the gold wedding band on her finger, she sniffled a little before resuming. “Cuz I did a lot for him. Did things I can never take back.”    Alone.    The word lanced through his heart like a shard of ice. But it was nothing compared to the way his stomach churned at Adrienne’s admission of things she’d done in her husband’s name.    “Do you,” he said softly, “want a hug? Or do you want to hold my hand? I understand if you don’t, but it’s okay if it would make you feel better. I know...how you feel. I don’t...I left everything behind when I came here. It’s really hard sometimes because so much of my support network is so far away. I’ve been incredibly fortunate with everyone I’ve met at Carnage since I got here - you included. But if it’s that bad, Adrienne, do you wanna work on getting you out of Clearwater? If it’s an emergency, I’ve got an open couch at my place - no questions asked.”    If it were only that easy to leave that place behind. Her mother would have a thousand reasons as to why leaving her hometown would be foolish. But there was one reason to leave that overrode them all.    “I’d like that. I really would,” and then she knew the following admission from a grown woman would make her seem sort of pathetic but she swallowed her pride and continued, “I gotta talk to my mom about this. She’s put up with so much already. With Danny and all, she didn’t want me even coming back to do this. She has her doubts even with how amazing all of you have been. I’ll convince her one day but for now, I’ll have to settle for visits.”    Looking forward to the myriad of people enjoying their day, she discreetly offered her hand.    Taking her hand in his, Silvio felt a pang wash over him. He drew in a breath, brow knit as he considered his words. “Do what you have to do. But - and if I’m out of line here, you can tell me - you gotta start living your life for yourself sooner or later. If you need out of Clearwater, you should start looking at other possibilities. I guess ultimately you have to ask yourself if the pain of the situation you’re in now is sustainable or not. Is enduring a known pain easier to deal with than an unknown potential for something better?”    “You make a lot of sense, Silvio. In fact, all of you have lately,” she paused, politely taking her hand back to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face. However, something had been bothering her. She would have a lot to mull over considering her situation but the newest addition to her nightmares as of late had been bothering her as of late. She summoned a little courage and posed her statement, “Only thing that doesn’t make sense is Zane King and you. You teamed with him. Walked by his side like it was nothing. Matt took issue with that but I’m not sure I feel the same way he does. That guy, he scares me. But, not only that, he nearly crushed my windpipe. Yet, here you are, unscathed.”    Silvio’s expression faltered somewhat and his gaze dropped to the ground. Taking a deep breath, as if steeling himself, he looked up at her. “He isn’t...Zane isn’t the same guy outside of the ring. I was able to talk with him; reason with him a bit. We worked out a deal, and that’s why that match even happened. If I hadn’t been able to get through to him, I’m pretty sure it would have just been a free-for-all. It was still pretty chaotic, even then.”    He pressed his lips together, thoughtful.    “...I wouldn’t...approach him when he’s near the ring or when a fight is about to happen,” he suggested. “There’s no getting through to him then. But when it’s quiet? When things are still...calm...he isn’t dangerous. I think…” Shaking his head, he gave her a sardonic smile. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I think he’s a little scared, and even more lonely.”    Adrienne remembered back to the match. Was really easy to remember the worst parts. Silvio however reminded her of one strange moment towards the end. After an errant boot had busted his lip open, he became uncontrollable. It stopped being a competitive wrestling match and instead became a struggle to survive the night. After managing to escape his clutches, he was dragged up the ramp by his security detail and King gave her the strangest expression. All she could see were his eyes and yet they told her for the briefest moment that what Silvio had just explained was true.    “I believe you,” she replied emphatically.

[fallout76gamedf-blog]

What NOT to Do in the Video Games Industry

The June 2011 ruling with the Supreme Courtroom struck down a California regulation which banned the sale of "violent" online video online games to youngsters. The ruling was according to the decision that The present in position video clip match rating system was appropriate for moms and dads to make the choice on what content material their young children are subjected to.

For starters I ought to exclude myself through the father or mother category as I don't have any children and my cats have still to learn a joystick. I'm nonetheless a gamer And that i although I'm subjected to violence in movie video games, I locate myself having real problems with games that current ethical controversies. We can easily combat and acquire or reduce and die and resurrect. We will choose our weapons and armor and chase matters down. Having said that at the conclusion of the day, most of us log off and resume our ordinary lives. I really Do not think about the game following the glowing pixels are retired to the working day. But whenever we Enjoy a sport that gives moral alternatives, it seems to linger in our minds somewhat for a longer time than the conventional shoot em' up games.

Fable (Lionhead Studios) offers us alternatives on no matter whether we wish to be righteous or not so good. We are able to go down The trail of doing very good deeds for the townsfolk or we can opt to rob and cheat them. Benefits could be achieved either way. Penalties are confronted if you decide on to rob somebody identical to true life. Maybe you receive caught and maybe you don't. Grown ups might make these alternatives and have the flexibility (at the very least most do I hope!) if they log off, to put this working experience in standpoint - this was a video activity Review and never a reflection of actual existence habits which has appear about by using our progress of concrete imagined that is a graduation in the adolescent imagined means of our youth.

Bioshock (2k Boston/IrrationalGames) presents us with a selection of killing naughty tiny women, Now these are literally monsters which have reworked themselves into naughty women but they may have the Visible physical appearance of one's sweet minimal sister. You must kill them - Indeed seriously. You should make the choice to destroy them or be killed. This match stirs up some emotions in any person, It doesn't matter how outdated. Killing one thing lovable and innocent whether or not puppies or kittens or tiny women just would not really feel very good. Greater mentioned... it shouldn't sense good.

You'll find infinite activity titles that Screen graphic violence. These usually are not games I decide to Participate in, but it isn't my location to guage what an adult chooses to Engage in on their clock. But How about dad and mom who play these Extraordinary game titles and possess them within their residence? What about parents who limit these games, only to realize that at an acquaintance's residence, these game titles are increasingly being played? I have to marvel If mom and dad actually know that a youngster seriously does not have the chance to differentiate the results these games have on their own establishing Mind?

We all know that teenagers Possess a quite challenging time knowing the results in their actions by lots of authentic lifetime examples and needless challenges getting taken. Most Little ones come to feel like They can be invulnerable to anything. Do video clip game titles aid in this sort of thinking? Should you permit your children to Engage in online video games, it really is YOUR accountability to Consider this via pretty thoroughly and make audio options. It is not the duty from the State you reside in or anyone else to ascertain what your son or daughter is subjected to - that's your career. Please do it responsibly and opt for age suitable game titles for Your kids. Video games are great pleasurable and will instruct a lot of good expertise - utilize it on your benefit, not to your child's disadvantage.