#I didn’t articulate them well but the shared security and connection they have through each other being vastly different

[anxiety-ridden-paranoia]

Obsessed with Gale constantly reaching for the stars through the Astral plane and his illusions and Astarion being connected to stars through his name and being a vampire

#bloodweave #gale dekarios #astarion ancunin #I’m normal about them can you tell #I didn’t articulate them well but the shared security and connection they have through each other being vastly different #then their previous relationships— the servitude under Mystra and Cazador respectively #and them both being appreciated by the other for who they are rather than their merits and what they can provide

[gayenerd]

This is a 2017 interview done by a fan for the fansite, Green Day Authority. It’s super disjointed and fan interviews never ask tough questions, but eh. 

Recently, we asked Green Day's management if it would be possible to get an exclusive interview for GDA, our first ever. After some coordination, it was agreed that I could interview them in Omaha (a show I had already planned to attend). I found out on Wednesday afternoon that I would be interviewing them on Saturday, but fortunately, I had already been preparing a list of questions in case it worked out. Before I go any further, I'll tell you that I had a LOT more questions on my list than there was time for. So, if you're wondering why I didn't ask something in particular, it's probably because we ran out of time. That is the only thing I would change about my whole experience if I had the opportunity. The arrangement was that one of the tour managers would meet me at the back entrance of the arena before sound check. After going through two layers of security, that's exactly what happened. I was the only non-crew person in sound check (!) and it simply felt surreal to be in that position. I enjoyed it greatly but was, of course, also thinking about how the upcoming interview would go. I wanted to represent GDA and the fan community in a way that would not leave a bad impression while also getting some good discussion from the guys. After sound check, I was walked back to a room with a couch and a few chairs. I was able to get comfortable and had some help to set up my recording equipment — thanks again to Lauren Banjo and Daniel, my son, for helping me get exactly the right device for recording the interview. In just a few minutes, in walked Billie, Mike and Tre. I have to say that, in all the times I've seen them, they have never looked better. They seemed relaxed, happy, and bursting with good health. They all sat down, and we got started. Aside from running out of time (though, to be honest, it would have taken hours to work through all my questions), I'm reasonably pleased with the way it all turned out. The guys were so incredibly nice and seemed to be totally engaged in the moment we were all sharing together. They really thought about their answers and seemed to enjoy the discussion. Here's the first installment of the interview — we talked about music, touring, and special shows. I did you all a favor and removed a lot of my rambling when I was asking the questions. Enjoy! "J'net: Guys, you work so hard, and we see how hard you work. During shows, you give so much of your emotion, yourselves, and your life energy to what you do. What keeps you going and keeps you so passionate about what you're doing? Mike: You said it, 'passion.' We only know how to do this one way — give 100%. It's just driven into us, I guess. Tre: It's the way we're wired. Mike: The music moves us the same way with the energy from the crowd. Billie: I agree. We love what we do. I think there've even been times when I thought, 'Maybe I'll take it easy tonight,' and then as soon as you hit the stage, it's just 'All systems go!' It's just a natural response for me. Really no other way to explain it. Mike: I always think, 'I don't know if I'll always be able to give what 100% is today, but I'll always give 100% of what I have to offer.' I don't think these engines know how to run any differently. J'net: Well, it's awesome. Your fans appreciate it so much. I wish you guys could just sometimes sit out in line, y'know? We get in line as early as we can and we compare notes ... "Well, we're driving from Kansas City as soon as the show's over..." Mike: You guys should film some of that. We never get to see it, it's cool! Film some of that interaction and maybe post some of that stuff too, it's rad! Billie & Tre: Yeah! J'net: [thinks to self: challenge accepted!] I'd be glad to do that, yeah. I mean, everybody would, even the people who know how to do that [technical stuff] … like Billie, he's pretty good with all the Facebook Lives and Instagram. Billie: Yeah, I'm getting pretty awesome — Billie Joe Zuckerberg! J'net: Right … 'Now where's the off button?...' Billie: Thank God for two young sons, man! They can tell you everything. Mike: I have to call my wife [laughs]. My wife's still young, she knows how to do that shit! J'net: Music is an emotional experience, and some of your songs are so emotional. Do you ever feel overcome by the emotion when you're performing, or are you somehow in performance mode so you can rise above it? Billie: I definitely go there. Like that line 'I'm like a son that was raised without a father,' — that's a button-pusher for me. Also with Forever Now, and also lately with playing '21 Guns' acoustic … when I get emotional is when I hear people singing along — when I hear voices that loud. I think with Green Day, we create an atmosphere that's as close to a European crowd that you can get — with people singing along, almost like a soccer anthem. And I love seeing people who are normally self-conscious when they lose it. I try to push people to just lose it when they come to our shows. Some nights, people are so pent up with energy, they don't even know that they have inside them. And I try to get people to dance like no one's watching and sing like no one's listening — just go for it! J'net: Do you have favorite show moments that you like to think back on? Billie: Smashing my guitar against the Subaru just the other night was pretty fun. [laughs] That's a first. I've never done that before. Mike: There are favorite moments of each show. We go backstage after the show, and we talk about all the rad things that happened. Billie: There's so many different things that we see going on in the crowd. There was a guy that was like an ex-hippie that was in the house the other night, I think in Portland. He was in the back, and I could see him just dancing and singing all night long. He was probably about the same age as my brother — about 65, and it was fun to just watch him. That's the kind of stuff I like to remember. " Watch for the next installment of the interview! We’ll also be sharing more of the audio from our favorite moments.

The second part of our interview focuses on the band's latest movie project, 'Turn It Around: The Story of East Bay Punk.' They helped produce it with filmmaker and longtime friend, Corbett Redford. The day after the Omaha show, my son Daniel and I started the drive back home to Tulsa, but stopped in Kansas City to see the movie. We went to a great independent theater there, Screenland at Tapcade, and when it was time for the movie to start, we settled ourselves in for a fascinating evening. There's so much to absorb in this movie, but it's compelling all the way through. There is a great deal of history that is lovingly captured and discussed. We feel we need to see it again and again, so It's good to know that a deal is in the works to distribute for home viewing, and that, according to Corbett Redford, "the DVD, Blu-Ray is being worked on, designed, mastered and readied for manufacturing." So many people were interviewed for this movie that I couldn't possibly list them all. The interviews were often just as interesting, funny, or emotional as the vintage footage of events from the beginnings of East Bay punk. It was a touching movie with many emotional moments (at least for us). Two or three of the people who were interviewed in the movie came close to tears as they were talking about the past and their connection to the famed 924 Gilman Street. For Green Day fans, as well as fans of many of the other bands involved in those early days of East Bay punk, there is rare and wonderful vintage footage that really gives a feel for what those early days were like. The writing by Corbett Redford and Anthony Marchitiello is exceptionally fine — it tells a story that could have been overwhelmingly complex in an articulate, accessible, and moving way. The narration by Iggy Pop, the animations (credited to Tim Armstrong, J. Bonner, and Alex Koll), the cinematography and photographic direction by Greg Schneider, and the hand lettering (credited to Aaron Cometbus) are simply delightful and absolutely enrich the content of the movie. I loved the way some of the newer interview footage had a "distressed" look to be more compatible with the footage it was matched with in the film. As Corbett said when I mentioned this to him, "The distressed VHS happened as our crew filmed EVERY interview with an old VHS camera! So that wasn't an effect, it was real! We decided as a crew that VHS and black and white Xerox were going to be our two main go-to 'themes' - so Greg went and bought a VHS camera, and voila!" There were obviously a lot of eyes on this film making sure that every little detail was as perfect as could be. There's no question in my mind that it was made with hearts full of love. Here's part two of our interview: "J'net: 'Turn it Around' is getting such incredible response from most reviewers and many in the punk community. Do you feel more acceptance coming from the community than you may have felt previously? Is there a partial 'return from 86'? Mike: The spirit of the movie is that it was made by the people in the community, and if you took Green Day out of it, it's still an unbelievable documentary. We basically stepped aside and let the movie get made the way it should be made. We realized that should be the anchor — the beginning, that's the beginning. [We wanted] for people to understand the different ingredients it took to make where we are and … to make the beginning… Billie: For us, when I was talking to Corbett, it was — 'Let's do a documentary that could inspire the next generation to create their own scene and not just talk about how you had to be there.' Because almost every scene documentary I've ever seen has a 'glory days' thing about it, where, with this one, you see the people like Michelle Gonzalez, who's a teacher and an author, and Miranda July, who’s a filmmaker and artist, and there are people who are activists, still playing music and active in the community. We approached it like, 'Let's not turn this into a piss and vinegar fest.' Billie: And if it wasn't for Tim Yohannon, even though we had big differences in the past, we wouldn't have had a place to play because he, with other people, created and made Gilman Street happen - and that I'm super grateful for. So if there's a story that you watch out for, it's what Tim Yohannon has done for the bay area scene and globally also. J'net: And Corbett did a great job realizing the vision of the movie. Mike: Corbett kind of did the impossible. You talk about a bunch of people in the scene — you know everybody's in that scene because we're all latchkey kids and come from some fucked up background, right? So then you have to get all the bands to agree to put their music on it this many years later. We had no doubt that he's an incredibly intelligent person and an artful person, but he fuckin' did it. Tre: He's always been super resourceful, and it's kind of like now he's all grown up. Mike: All we had to do was talk him off the ledge a couple times. I mean, we'd go in his office, and it looked like 'A Beautiful Mind.' There's writing everywhere and he's like (Mike demonstrates hyperventilating). It started off he didn't have a beard, and then he turned into Father Time. J'net: Did the fact that he's so well-respected in the community and such a genuine person help him to get buy-in from the people who participated? Mike: And the other people he recruited, like Kamala Parks and Anthony (Marchitiello) and Eggplant and Tim Armstrong, are highly respected and helping to make this thing. And it's like, 'Wait a minute, this isn't like a Warner Brothers movie. This is people who were actually in the scene making it.' And when they would vouch for him, it became even more helpful." We're pretty sure we spotted a cameo of Mr. Redford himself, but I won't put a spoiler here by hinting where to watch for him! For the same reason, I'm not going to tell you details of my favorite parts of the movie. When the opportunity arises, you should pick out your own favorites, and next time we're sitting in line for a Green Day show, we can compare notes. Bottom line, whether you watch the movie because you're interested in the captivating history of East Bay punk or because you want to see how Green Day got their start or both, you aren't likely to be disappointed. The movie is great entertainment but also left me inspired to be the best I can be at whatever I choose to do. The passion that went into the scene way back then, and into the making of the movie itself, left its mark on me. I hope you'll find that it leaves you feeling the same way.

In part two, we talked to the band about the early days at Gilman Street and the new movie, 'Turn it Around: The Story of East Bay Punk.' "J’net: From there, Green Day has come so far. What were you dreaming about back then, have you achieved it, and do you have any dreams you haven’t realized yet — things you still want to do? Tre: Pizza! J’net: Really? You haven’t had pizza yet? [Everyone laughs — these guys are SO polite!] Mike: Back then it was like, 'Can we get a show? Can we get into Gilman?' That’s a goal. It’s always like a series of goals – like 'Let’s get a tour.' 'Oh my gosh, what would it be like to play that one club there?' Maybe it’s a different town — or Europe! 'Let’s go to Europe and tour Europe!' There’s always another thing to be done. We just like to keep it exciting. Even live — even live, if we feel it's not exciting and not eventful or we're just going through the motions, we'll do something to change that because we like to stay in the moment, too. Life should be exciting. J’net: [to Tre] When you gave the drumsticks to that little kid last night (in Kansas City) … Mike: I did that. But Tre does every night anyway. One of us will always do it." Backstory: In Kansas City, there was a little girl on her dad’s shoulders throughout much of the show, although security tried multiple times to get him to put her down. At one point, Mike’s bass tech came into the security pit and leaned through to hand her a set of drumsticks. "Mike: She was hitting right on the beat with them on her dad’s shoulders! A lot of people know this, but every night Tre hides a pair of drumsticks under a seat. J’net: Do you always know if somebody finds them? Tre: Well, I put a hashtag on them and sometimes they'll go and put a picture with #TreCoolsHiddenSticks if they found them. J'net: I would just want to know — if no one posted, did they get found? I would have to go back and see if they're still there. [laughs] Tre: Somebody will find them. I'll tape them under the seats. Mike: Eventually. Someone will find them — like at an Usher show. [laughs] J'net: Or a hockey game. [Laughter] J’net: I got to go to the Hall of Fame Induction and the House of Blues show. What a show! I was beating up on the people next to me, because every time something else exciting happened I was [grabbing people and shaking them], "Oh my God! Oh my God!" That was incredible. I want to ask how that felt, but I’m sure you all thought it felt incredible. But could you ever have dreamed that you would be there? And what gave you the idea to come out as Sweet Children, and have Tim [Armstrong of Rancid] come out and sing with y’all and … to celebrate it in that way? Billie: I think it was all about 'bringing it all back home,' to quote Bob Dylan. It was like, 'Let’s make this as fun as possible.' Just have a great time and do everything you can … there’s so much tension with a lot of bands that have gone in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame that you literally can’t get them to be on the same stage at the same time. And someone will stay home. And for us, it was the opposite of that. I’d rather seize the moment to remember how we got there. You start off when you’re a kid in a band, and it’s the most exciting thing in the world. And it’s so important to inspire people to understand that it IS the most exciting thing in the world. J’net: Do y’all listen to any kind of music that you think would surprise people to know that you liked it? Mike: All kinds of music. I just like good songs. I don’t care if it’s country — or the other night Tre went out to a jazz club, and then Jason and I went out to the same jazz club after they’d left — the same jazz club, and we didn’t even know they went. And we saw an unbelievable band there in Kansas City. Tre: I like German AND Italian opera. J’net: Do you really? Seriously? Tre: [Laughs] J’net: Oh ... but THAT would have surprised people. Tre: No … just the German. [laughs] J’net: Well, I’m the Italian fan, myself. Tre: It’s all Greek to me! Greek music. Billie: I’m kind of an audiophile. I like to go deep with finding obscure power-pop bands... Tre: Billie makes the best playlists. And he’s the best DJ. Billie: I just read this book called Never a Dull Moment ['Never a Dull Moment: 1971 The Year That Rock Exploded,' by David Hepworth] and it’s all about the music that happened in 1971, so I put together a playlist of all [that music]. I like getting into to doing my own … which is funny, because everybody's doing playlists and putting them on Spotify and stuff like that, and I do playlists and share them with my friends. Mike: She's got to hook you up with about a million more friends to share it with. [Laughter] Mike: Yeah, when we hit the playlist side of things, he’s ready. Billie: Yeah, and it’s all kinds of different stuff, whether it's like Joni Mitchell and Linda Ronstadt, to like ... Foghat and T-Rex. It’s fun to listen to. Especially back then, there was a certain amount of — people were uninhibited. If you listen to Marvin Gaye singing 'What’s Going On?,' there’s nothing self-conscious about songs like that and what was going on back then. I think nowadays, music is so much more visual or something. Some of the stuff from the past is just inspiring. J’net: And you have lots of influences, I can hear them in your music. There are little bits that sound like country and little bits that sound like different genres. Did you get that from your family, or was it all around you, or what? Billie: Well, it was all around me with my family — and I think when I was a kid I just always wanted to be the one to listen to something different. So, when kids were listening to Kool and the Gang’s 'Celebration,' I was listening to AC/DC and Van Halen, or trying to be the first in my high school to discover punk rock, and alternative stuff, too. Nobody in Rodeo had a clue who the Replacements and Hüsker Dü was. I was like the only punk kid in my high school. And John Swett [High School] was ... 400 people, 350 at the most. Mike: Is that what it was? I thought it was a little more than that. That’s still a lot of people, though, when you think about it. Billie: Yeah, there's 80 people in that graduating class. Mike: And then there was this one kid in that high school [who was punk]. Billie: And half of them actually graduated. [Laughs]"

This is the fourth and final installment of our interview with Green Day. In part three, we talked to the band about their past goals, and the musical roots of each of the guys. I have also included some things that were not part of the interview itself, or our recording. At the beginning of the transcription below, I knew our time was running out — and during the recording, we were packing up. I was throwing on my “Still Breathing” shirt, as I call it, for my photo with the band. But I just kept talking and asking questions the whole time to make the most of every second. "J’net: So, I have one more quick question, and this is just my own personal thing that I’ve always wondered — when Mike sang the second half of 'American Eulogy,' did you [Billie] write it with that in mind, did it just happen, I mean … was it something personal to Mike, because the way [Mike] sang it and kind of spit those lyrics out, it sounds like it’s very … something [deciding to stop rambling on with this never ending question and let someone answer] … Billie: I mean, I just wrote it and asked him if he wanted to sing it. [laughs] Mike: I think you need to sing to what the lyrics are calling for. I tend to sing ... like a little girl sometimes. [laughs] J’net: Not in THAT song. Mike: Yeah, but I was conscious that, 'This song isn't for singing like a little girl.' Or if it is, it's a little girl with attitude. Billie: If you think about 'Outsider' by the Ramones, and how DeeDee sang the bridge to it, it just kind of makes more sense. It just kind of comes from the band. And what else? 'I Was There' – Mike sang the bridge on that. J'net: Yeah. Well, you [Mike] sing that 'American Eulogy' like it was written just for you. Just made me wonder … Mike: [Hamming it up] Why, thank you! A friend of mine wrote that just for me! … 'Hey Billie, I got an idea! We can go ahead and take five.' J'net: So, I'm getting a sense that it's time for you [Tre] to have your pizza that you've never had before. Any last things you guys want to say to the readers of Green Day Authority? Mike: Just that we appreciate them and that they should be good to each other and look out for one another online and offline. But, we appreciate the hell out of them, cause that's our community. They're fuckin' rad. We'll see [them] on tour. Billie: I think for me as a musician, it's always important to be a fan first. Because I'm obviously a big fan of the people I like to listen to and stuff like that. So with that said, [we're] like-minded and kindred-spirits. Tre: In the words of the wild stallions, 'Be excellent to each other!'" Thus ended the interview proper, though there was more conversation, as I asked the guys to take a quick photo with me (the first time I've ever asked for a photo with any of them ... the wait was so worth it given how the photo turned out). Then, touring sound engineer and photographer Chris Dugan reminded me that I had a t-shirt to show the band. It was from Jack Yates, Omaha-based editor extraordinaire for GDA, who has been taking all my scribblings and making them look beautiful on the site. His vintage shirt was from Green Day's first tour — the band had screen printed it by hand back in the day. He thought they might like to see it, and maybe even sign it for him (which they graciously did). Tre sarcastically joked that it was really only six months old. Mike laughed, and said he still has the original screen print stencil for that shirt. While the guys were signing Jack's shirt, I was throwing on my "Still Breathing" shirt, which you can see in the photo. The guys loved, it which prompted me to tell them that it's from the Woody Guthrie Museum in Tulsa, Oklahoma, where I'm from. Mike excitedly told me that his wife's family and Billie's whole family were also from Oklahoma. This prompted Billie to tell a story, which really delighted me. The backstory is that he began to tell this tale at the Tulsa Green Day show back in March, but didn't make it all the way to the brilliant ending. We'd talked about this during the car trip there, and Billie just spontaneously answered our question! "Billie: Yeah, my mom's from Sperry, Oklahoma. Oh, we went — this is a funny story. When we were there, I was trying to find where my mom's house was — it was like, I think, about 15 minutes outside of Tulsa. And we went into a high school, and all the people would talk about was like native burial grounds and stuff like that. So we're just looking for this one in particular. So we went into Sperry High School and talked to the administrators, and I come out and all of a sudden it was like, it clicked [snaps fingers], they were like, 'Oh my God, he's here!' and they run out and one goes, 'You're either … Bruno Mars … or the guy in Green Day!' [Laughter] Billie: 'Bruno! Bruno! Bruno Joe!' Tre: [Laughs] 'Bruno Joe.' Billie: And then they sent me all these hats, because they're the Pirates, so I got all these cool pirate hats." Now, as they were still signing Jack's shirt, and I was still "primping" for my first ever Green Day photo, we had this hilarious conversation: "J'net: Do y'all know about all the mis-heard lyrics in your songs? Billie: Mis-heard? Mike: Misinterpreted, you mean? J'net: No, like people hear them and they think you're saying something else! Tre: Oh, that's funny! J'net: Like, 'Gotta know the enemy … raw ham.' Billie: Raw ham? [Hilarity ensues] Tre: Raw ham. J'net: And, 'Somebody take my pants, I think they're falling off … into a state of regression.' Mike: [Singing] 'Somebody take my pants, I think they're falling off, into a state of regression.' [Laughing] Billie: That's amazing. That's a good one. J'net: And then, my son one day and said to me he hears, [singing ... YES, I sang in front of Green Day!] 'Dump truck! Color me stupid!' Billie: Oh, dump truck! [laughs] J'net: British people hear, 'I wore cologne, I wore cologne' [in 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams']. Billie: Oh, wow … J'net: And in 'Welcome to Paradise' — 'Pay attention to the cracked streets and the broken gnomes.' Tre: Scary. Scary. [Laughs] Billie: Nice. I've heard that one before. I think I've seen a meme. J'net: I just wondered if … because when a new song comes out, before the lyrics are published, we're all trying to figure out, "What are they saying? What are they saying?" Billie: Next time we're just going to write them out different. They'll be like just totally different lyrics. Tre: We'll do fucked up lyrics! J'net: Oh yeah, right. That would be great. Tre: We'll get like six-year-olds to say what they think the lyrics are, and then we'll have that be the lyrics. J'net: That would be great! Or me, because my hearing is shot from so many Green Day shows!" This was where our recording ended. At some point during the discussion that continued un-recorded, I told the guys that this (the Omaha show) might be my last show for a while. I said, "A dear friend of mine has a ticket for me to the Rose Bowl show, but I don't know if I'll be able to afford to get there, so this could be it for a while." After that, we prepared to take the photo, which Chris Dugan (the band's sound guy and photographer) kindly offered to take for us — so it wasn't a selfie, after all! Mike suggested that I sit in the chair, and they'd all stand around me. Of course, I can't even express how sweet this was. Then, because I'd been talking to superfan Fran Green in line that day, I said, "Do you know that girl Fran with long brown hair who's always right in the corner of the barricade?" (I motioned with my hands to show where Fran usually stands). And here's how I remember that conversation going: "Billie: Oh, I know her, she's great! She always wants to get up and sing or something, but I really like her energy right there in the corner. Mike: Which one is she? Billie: She has a lip piercing. Mike: Oh yeah! [smiling] J'net: Well, today is her 50th show! Billie: Her 50th really? J'net: Yes, and she's travelling from the 1st through the 27th and not staying in any hotels — just sleeping on the street or in the car. Billie and Mike: WOW. Tre: Sounds like somebody needs a shower!" Finally, my time with Green Day was coming to an end. I thanked them all, and they walked out. Then, as I was about to leave the room, Tre came back with his wife Sara and introduced me to her. She is just as gorgeous and sweet as her online personality seems. We chatted for a few minutes. I told her we love her because of how happy she makes 'this guy' — I point at Tre. To say both their faces were beaming would be a terrible understatement. Just looking at how happy they are together made my heart melt. As they were leaving, Tre stuck his head back in the room and said, "See you at the Rose Bowl." So now, I guess I'll have to find a way to make it to the Rose Bowl. Hope to see you all there! After all this, I was walked out on to the arena floor and asked to choose my spot. I was just dumfounded with the entire barrier to choose from … don't we all wish that could somehow happen at every show?!?! Later, after everyone came in, I couldn't see Fran in her usual spot, and I was just so disappointed, because I thought … knowing the band, they would probably do something special for her if she'd been there. Well, Billie managed to find her on the catwalk, wished her happy 50th and then started singing "Happy Birthday" to her! Hahaha! Tre also gave her an autographed drum head the next night in St. Louis, and I see that she got on stage before her tour was over. The guys are just the sweetest and love their fans so much!

#i did like billie's story about being mistaken for bruno mars lmao #also mike's line about how young his wife is..... #not as funny as you think it is man #yikes #article #interview #articles #green day

[swishandflickwit]

a million nights i've lived this quiet (i need to know if you hear this too) — 1/1

Summary: “That looks dangerous.”

“I eat danger for breakfast,” he snits, tone dry as a desert and the effect just as unpleasant.

She raises an unimpressed brow.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Toph.”

He smirks.

“That one’s on your brother, actually.”

“Figures,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes.

zutara + haircut

Ratings: General Audiences

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: unbeta'd, fluff, fluff without plot, haircut, hugs, hand holding, canon divergence (i think?), sozin's comet, set somewhere in the old masters (because as usual, we throw canon in the blender), generally a lot of wholesomeness all around, gratuitous use of sun and water metaphors (as you do when it comes to zutara), basically zuko and katara share a quiet moment before canon hits the fan lol

AN: i see a lot of zutara post agni-kai but what about zutara pre-agni kai huh?

Title from: wanna know by sabrina claudio

Other song inspirations include: frozen also by sabrina claudio and this version of chasing cars originally by snow patrol, covered by the wind and the wave. highly recommended listening.

Also on: ff.net | AO3

Other writing

Tagging: @jerkbend by request! hope you enjoy this one bb <3

-//////-

"That looks dangerous." 

He doesn't chuckle, but neither is he quick enough to suppress the tug curling at the right corner of his lips—his mirth incontestable even through the warped looking glass from which she views him, stood as she is at the opening flap of his uncle's tent.

By the time she fully steps into the living quarters, his face is schooled into the deeply discontented, partly pained-to-be-alive glower he so favors.

"I eat danger for breakfast," he snits, tone dry as a desert and the effect just as unpleasant.

She raises an unimpressed brow.

"You've been spending too much time with Toph."

He smirks.

"That one's on your brother, actually."

"Figures," she mutters with a roll of her eyes. "What with half his brain being in his stomach..."

The laughter that the gibe yanks from the firebender is biting and brief, but Katara's breath hitches at the sound all the same. She latches on to it, holds it somewhere between her throat and chest, not too distant from the pitifully hollow space in her heart that she isolates from the bitter, ugly parts of her that are forged in battle and conflict.

"Should you…" is there a delicate way to phrase such a question? No, judging by the dirty look he throws her way, guessing at her thoughts, no there is not. She stifles the giggles bubbling at her throat with herculean effort, before remarking rather bluntly, "Are you qualified to handle that?"

He maintains his glare a second more before bowing his head and releasing a hot huff of air towards the ground in resignation. He places the mirror—from which the whole of their interactions had been exchanged thus far—atop the low table in front of him, then shifts so the entirety of his figure faces her. When he lifts his gaze, the veil of gloom that so frequents his visage has dissipated enough to allow a brittle smile to peek through.

"Probably not," he concedes with an amiability uncommon to his appearance. "Will you help me?"

But she likes the way the expression settles on him. It quells the ragged contours of his scar, somehow—his eyes seemingly unburdened by the sorrow he often declines to share, for once. As if in putting breath and voice to the request, he's quieted the ghosts of his troubled past for the moment to be fully present, here. 

With her.

So when his metal-ladden hand falls almost shyly towards her, his stare gentle but no less piercing in its signature, sun-blessed intensity—obscured as they are by his unruly, ebony tendrils—she smiles. It is a fragile thing, muscles straining as they pull from the recesses of memories she also staunchly refuses to be tainted by war, but there—its sweetness shaped after her mother's loving lullabies, built in her father's effervescent embrace, and fashioned from each of her friends' unconquerable spirits. 

She catches him, fingers winding into the shears in his grasp, and there is nothing for her than to accept.

"So what do you wanna do," she starts, eager to dispel the solemn atmosphere. "Some more layers? A buzz cut? Oh!" she nicks at the air experimentally, gleefully. "How about we just cut everything off?"

"You look way too happy to have an excuse to point that thing at me. That very sharp, very death-inducing thing."

"Shut up!" This time she lets her laughter loose, shoving at him playfully so that he's once again turned to the wooden chabudai. "Seriously," she cajoles until he picks up the mirror and through it, she glimpses his sedate mien. The levity in her demeanor fades, pitch dipping instead to match his contemplative stare. "What do you want?"

"I've been asked that a lot this past year," he sighs, bending his legs into a lotus position before slumping in on himself. "Yet I don't think I've ever really given a straight answer."

Task temporarily forgotten, she abandons the scissors at her feet to squeeze both his shoulders in reassurance. "Well whatever it is, I won't judge, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know. You're a great friend," he leans into her touch, and she beams at both the declaration and the rare show of guileless affection. "Fortune rarely sees fit to favor me but I'm really lucky I get to call you so."

The gravity of his proclamation has distress roiling like a tsunami underneath her skin, tempered only by the tinge of whimsy that weaves itself into his articulation. More curious than concerned now (although the stale taste of it lingers on her tongue), she lets her alarm abate at his unexpected resonance. She folds into a seiza at his left, fingers trailing the stalwart line of his back as she goes before placing them serenely on her lap, in absolute symmetry to their figures from last night. And just like she did then, she does so again now, ears at the ready and heart wide open so she can be the friend he needs, someone deserving of his reverence.

(Someone, she thinks as flickers of retrospection—of fighting against him slowly evolving into fighting with him—burst into brilliant clarity, worthy to be at his side.)

"You asked what I wanted," he rasps, low and tenuous.

He meets her stare and she hopes the encouragement in her chest burns soft like an ember through her eyes, enough to fuel the feeling of safety that ignites all too easily the more they orbit each other's presence. He inhales deep in a way that is familiar from his meditations then releases, a surrender in the exhalation—as if his apprehensions could drift away in the warm gale.

"Peace," he whispers, breaking their connection to look down at his fidgeting hands. The revelation is wrapped in such unfettered fear, as if in admitting the longing he has secured its impossibility instead of the inevitability she knows it to be, and she aches for him. "I want to put a stop to the bloodshed, an end to the suffering of both my people and yours and the rest of the nation. I want there to be a place for my soldiers to come home to. I want my mom," he sighs shakily, "and for no child to ever feel what it's like to lose a parent and for no parent to have to fear for the lives of their children as they're forced to this—this—needless slaughter. I want Toph's parents to see her for the capable woman that she is and for Suki's fellow warriors, her family, to be okay. I wish Sokka's plan succeeds, whatever it may be, and that I could guarantee your father's safety and that of your tribe. I wish my sister wasn't so messed up and that I didn't have to keep relying on my uncle to clean up after me when he's already lost so much to this fight. I wish the Spirits weren't so cruel as to put the fate of the world on the shoulders of a twelve-year old. I wish—I wish I could take back the past year, the past hundred years. I wish I could make up for all of it. I wish…" his gaze darts to her neck, digits hovering just shy of the luminescent pendant there, but not touching. 

"I wish I could bring her back for you." He drops his fingers before he can make contact. His whole body wilts with the motion before he tightens his hand to a fist at his thigh. He shakes his head, craning it towards the ceiling where he directs his smile, devoid of any humor when he adds, "But yeah, a trim should do it."

Her heartbeat is loud in her ears in the wake of the silence his confession inflicts. The weight of his monumental aspirations sits heavy on her chest yet strangely enough, it doesn't leave her shaky. If anything, it strengthens her, grounds her, lends fire to the ice in her veins so when she moves, it's with the lofty grace she knows she possesses but doesn't always feel—the skill of a master and the experience of a hardened soldier encased in her fourteen-year-old bones.

But she is grateful for it anyway, when she positions herself at his back and the scissors don't tremble in her grasp when she loops her fingers around it.

"Yeah," she murmurs right back, smoothing her digits through surprisingly silky locks. "Yeah, I can do that."

She doesn't deign to push her skill given how dim it is—both inside and out, the sun sequestered by its billowing companions like it's taken refuge because it knows the blazing, celestial wildfire to come—and that there isn't much to cut in the first place. His tresses are at that awkward length of too long to be considered short but too short to be tied up into a bun or tail. So she merely evens out what she can, tidying stray tufts and snipping at scraggily ends, grappling at any excuse to keep her hands on him. And when that same excuse runs thin—because there's only so much she can cleave before she makes good on her drollery and indeed hacks it all off—she summons the dew drops hugging the blades of grass from outside the former general's tent. She glides the ribbon of water where her hands cannot reach, siphoning the severed hairs from his person and his clothes, before discarding the soiled glob completely.

"Thank you, Katara," he mumbles, though his focus remains on the distortion his image projects on the once cast-aside mirror, particularly on his marred skin. She wants to do something about the melancholy etching his warped effigy—a stark contrast to the hue of near-tranquility that had painted itself beautifully across his pale, elegant features—so she resumes her place at his left, sitting side-saddle with her left hand propping her up and her legs curved comfortably behind him. She narrows her vision onto his profile—the pucker of his mouth, the acuate bridge of his nose, and the graceful sweep of his jaw—then lays down her query with dogged finality.

"Will you do something for me?"

"Name it," he vows in that inordinately earnest manner of his, his countenance brightening enough to keep the deceitful umbrages at bay, that she feels almost bad for asking. "Name it and it's done."

She tuts. "I can't promise it will make up for everything, and it certainly won't be easy."

"I'm used to the fight." There is no arrogance in his enunciation, only a steeliness and determination that is uniquely Zuko. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"You promise?"

"I swear it, on my uncle's life—my mother's, wherever she may be—my nation—"

"Your honor?"

He chuckles—a little broken, a little watery and not enough amusement—but does accede. "Especially on that."

"Then forgive yourself, Zuko." He drops the looking glass in shock, head abruptly swiveling towards her in a dazzling collision of blue and amber, though she does not cower—her own renowned stubbornness stoking her fortitude when she simply holds his scrutiny. "And live. Live to see your soldiers come home. Live to reunite families, to find your mother. Live long enough to create the peace you seek, and to revel in this new world you will help rebuild, help heal. Because Aang's going to save the world. But you? You're going to change it."

I hope I'm there with you when you do, she wants to say, for he may not be able to alter the past but the future—

The future will be his to shape.

So she blinks back the mysterious haze in her eyes and swallows against the lump in her throat, and teases him instead, "I mean, you're not half as useless as I thought you were after all, so you could definitely do it."

"Your vote of confidence is astounding," his inflection is wry, but she is an excellent student and he had fast become her favorite subject. She knows him, and sees the carefully cultivated rancor for the barrier that it is, hoarding all the anguish and the grief but all that overwhelming love, too, that he is so hesitant to give. And who could blame him? When he's been shunned to darkness for every moment he's attempted to part with his vulnerability. All that radiance too afraid to shine, and she wants to tell him to let the light in.

(If Aang won't kill Ozai then she will convince—not that it would take much—Toph to dig the deepest, murkiest, most rodent-infested hole for the monster who dared to smother his own son's flame.)

"And I guess," she toys with rescinding, then thinks better of it, trading banter for sincerity when she unfurls his still-clenched fist and slides her fingers in the spaces between his. "Maybe I like having you around."

And, oh, but there it is—the soaring of the dawn, and all the exaltation of new beginnings it brings with it, in the exquisite harmony of his golden gaze.

"So," he hums, twirling the tawny ringlet right by her collarbone round his pointer before tucking it behind her ear. She reels with the gesture, tilting into his space. "Forgive myself, huh?"

"And live, of course," she miffs, albeit wetly. "If not for yourself, then for your uncle who loves you dearly." She tips her chin up defiantly, daring him to contradict her. "For all of us, who love you dearly."

"Is that all?" He rolls his eyes but that elusive, frolic quirk toils with his lips. He inclines his head until their noses are but a scant few millimeters apart, buzzing impishly, "Anything else I can do?"

"Actually," she hems, stroking at a badly-hewn strand by his cheek with just a pinch of regret before resolving not to volunteer for the act of cutting his hair again in the foreseeable future. "There is." 

She bites her lip, wondering if she should request it at all before ultimately throwing caution to the wind. "We still have some time. Can we just pretend for a little while…" but no, the thought of ignoring the war even for a few minutes reeks too much of Lake Laogai so she amends. "Just stay here with me, please? Just—" 

She brings their joined hands to his chest where she can sense his heartbeat, as strong and as steady as the soul it vivifies. With the tip of her finger from her other hand, she traces the frame of his too-tense lips until it is slack with repose, trails a featherlight pathway to the outer ridges that make up the border of his scar. 

"Be quiet with me."

Those scorching orbs dance about her visage like the flickers of a candle—except he is more wax than flame when she cups his scabrous flesh, and he melts into her caress.

"I would do it just because you asked," he utters in the most dulcet of notes, and she is honored, for she recognizes the tenderness for the offering that it is. "Whatever happens out there, I'm glad it's you," he sighs, just once more. "I'm glad it's you with me."

"Together," she agrees, chin slumping onto his shoulder for purchase at the alluring giddiness his words incite. She is whirling, unmoored, until the digits of his own free hand anchor at the downy arch of her waist. He nudges, and she ebbs into a pool of untouchable calm on his lap, awash as she is in the current of him.

She closes her eyes, and when he follows suit, content to flow at her pace like he always does in return, a piece of her she hadn't even realized was aslant slots right into place.

They are hours away from the most important battle of their lives, one in which its outcome could very well destine the course of the next hundred years. Katara will not know the caliber of her entreaty, the importance of his promise, until the comet is at its zenith and her life is a paroxysmal brand seared across his middle like a supernova.

But for now, foreheads touching and their fingers seamlessly twined right above his vibrantly thrumming heart, she stows this moment beneath her ribcage, right in that war-untouched trove that pulses to the rhythm of his heart.

They are steeped in stillness, disrupted only by the din of the busy camp, and even that fades away as their breathing syncs.

Somewhere outside, the sun coasts along the heavens, beams of brilliance wrestling against its adumbrate prison. 

The clouds part, feeble rays snagging at the canvas archway of their shelter.

The light pours in.

The shadows recoil.

And together, they shine.

-//////-

AN: okay this was supposed to be an exercise in brevity and restraint but uh, i don't think i succeeded?? but given that my goal was less than 2k and we're clocking this in at 2.8k, all things considered, i see this as an absolute win lmao so if you would be so kind as to let me know if you liked it, that would be stupendous!

come say hi to me!

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #katara #zuko #zutara fan fiction #zutara ff #zutara fluff #zutara friendship #swishandflickwit ff #ngl im so sleepy rn #i posted this instead of sleeping #its all about the forehead touching and the HANDS #zutara owns my life #this is the proof

[evakuality]

Make a clear statement, straight up: Communication in Druck s3 (part two)

This is part two of my ongoing discussion of the theme of communication in s3 of Druck.  You can find part one over here: You look good tonight: Communication in Druck s3 (part one)

If episodes 1-4 were characterised by a growing buildup of trust and communication between Matteo and David, and were contrasted quite heavily with Matteo’s lack of communication with other people in his life, then episodes 5-7 take almost the opposite tack.  Matteo becomes much more able to communicate with the other people around him and David pulls back from it (and Matteo) in a lot of ways.  Since this got really long again, I’m splitting it in two parts: Matteo and David, and Matteo and everyone else.  I’ll post the ‘everyone else’ section in the next day or two.

Matteo and David

This episode starts, of course, with a very intimate scene of the two of them getting to know each other better.  Among the kissing etc there’s a lot of talking and laughing.  But an important point to note here is that we’re not privy to what they say for a lot of it.  We see it happening, but we’re not allowed to hear it.  As with episode two, this allows us to watch the build up of a connection but it still keeps us and them a little distanced.  We can’t tell what they’re talking about, or what sort of communicating they’re doing.  All we know is that they’re relaxed and happy and the focus here is on both of them whereas in episode 2 we got more of Matteo than David.  This is contrasted quite strongly in the later episodes, where we do see almost all of what they say, and which we’ll talk about in more detail when we get there.

Of course, once things turn more serious we do get to hear what is being said, and more importantly what is being communicated.  We, along with Matteo, learn that David is concerned very strongly with his own ability to have control.  He doesn’t like things that come in and take over, removing his ability to make his own choices and he says very clearly that if things went badly he’d run away, hide, wait out the storm.  He’s very clear about this.  To him, this is a specific and logical plan, but Matteo fails to pick up on what he’s actually saying.  To him it’s a philosophical puzzle: well, what about in a natural catastrophe?  How would you deal with that?  You can’t choose that happening.  To be fair to Matteo, David did pose it as a philosophical thing with the idea of believing in fate etc, and it seems like this is an extension of what he was doing in their first conversation: saying real stuff behind a mask or a curtain.  He’s more open, more willing to explain himself here, but there’s still enough here holding him back from being completely open.  And the way he’s choosing to talk about it, as a hypothetical possibility, means that Matteo and therefore by extension the audience doesn’t realise just how serious he is.  This is despite the fact that his body language is communicating exactly how important this is to him.  His hands in particular say a lot; the way they twist and the way he holds them and then the rest of his body, rigid and tense really gives a sense of how serious this is, but it’s done in such a low key quiet way that Matteo doesn’t really pick up on it and by extension the audience doesn’t either.  Of course, this is exacerbated by the show itself, when it does Matteo’s voiceover about the situation with his parents over a very light, silly, easy montage of them wrestling and having fun.  It undercuts the message and directs us away from it: very much as David has been trying to do.

This scene also tells us two clearly communicated things about the two of them which define who they are and how and why they act the way they do.  Matteo says specifically that being alone is bad, and David says in his usual convoluted way that living with non-family counts as being alone.  To Matteo, you need people and connection and it’s fairly clear that the isolation he’s been feeling from others is damaging him, and has been for a while.  This is presumably why the connection he’s creating with David is so important to him.  David, on the other hand, is making it obvious that connection with new people outside his family circle doesn’t ‘count’ - at least not in the same way.  To him, being alone is safe and secure; it’s a situation where you have total control and can rely on yourself, and this connection he’s forming with Matteo is difficult and scary because it’s undercutting that.  So what’s happening is that while they are being open with each other and communicating their thoughts and feelings, there are things hiding behind the words that aren’t necessarily being picked up on.  Having said that, the nonverbal communication between them is telling them both (the laughter, the easiness of the physical bond, the stupid playful fighting etc) that they enjoy each other, and they’re on the same wavelength, which is at least partly why the actual words are not being communicated as effectively as they might be.

In this episode we also get the start of David’s new way of communicating: through art.  Even though he still thinks he needs to isolate himself, he wants that connection despite it being something difficult and potentially scary in terms of what he has to say for it to something real.  This shows progress from episode two where he just left, but it’s still a certain unwillingness to really embrace that connection with Matteo.  Still, he keeps making visual connections with him.  Things like the ‘breathing underwater’ post that literally no-one but Matteo would get, and of course the little vampire pictures.  There’s a sense that even though he’s still holding himself aloof, he’s also wanting that connection to Matteo and is actively communicating that through these reasonably obscure things.  Things that will mean things to himself and to Matteo but won’t communicate anything to the rest of the world even as some are very public.  He continues to share himself with Matteo (in the form of a song he likes as well as his art) even after he’s made his decision to pull back.  So, to be clear, it’s important that David still makes these gestures after he’s told Matteo he’s not interested in anything with him.  There’s a reason why Matteo says he ‘can’t believe’ David isn’t interested, and it’s not just because of the way he acted when they were together.

The date they have together is also important in terms of their communication and their reactions to the connections they’ve been building.  It starts well, with them once again enjoying being together, playful and laughing.  Clearly spending a lot of time together and talking etc.  Once again, though, we’re not privy to those conversations.  All we see is the delight they have in each other and in being together.  When we do tune into their conversation it’s once again with a more serious, less cheerful message.  Matteo has been heartened by the time they just spent and he very clearly tells David that he broke up with his girlfriend for him.  One thing Matteo is actually very good at (with David) is clearly articulating what he feels and what he wants.  David, who has been probably consoling himself with ‘well he has a girlfriend, this can’t be too serious’ is suddenly confronted with reality (and again as people have pointed out, the things they do are often tinged with the ‘fake’ because there’s an air of unreality to it all that means he can pretend like this).  David now gets a clearly communicated declaration of intent from Matteo, both verbal ‘there’s this guy’ and nonverbal, the kiss, and he’s now faced with a dilemma.  His actions have all been communicating what he really feels: a deep connection to Matteo, but his words have been a little more obscure.  He says things he thinks he should be saying: I need to be alone, free will, hide and wait it out etc, but Matteo hasn’t picked it up (again, fair enough, since the body language has been saying something different). So it becomes imperative here, in David’s mind, to preserve his safety, and he does.  As Matteo did before him, he chooses to send a text with some truth in it ‘it’s gone a bit fast’ but also with some kindness ‘I need some time; don’t be angry’.  But, as Matteo learned before him, that text didn’t work and his partner comes to him to get answers.  And so we have a harsher text, this one a genuine lie.  Matteo doesn’t believe the content, but he sure believes the door shut firmly in his face and the intent behind the text.  He knows David likes him, but he also knows that he’s shut Matteo out, literally and figuratively, and he’s not sure why.

The fact that Matteo continuously uses the small pieces of David that he left for him (the song, the pictures etc) to feel closer to him is also important.  This allows him to easily go back to David; he’s got tangible reminders of exactly what he means to David.  Despite being out of contact during most of this next section of the show, and despite the seemingly clear ‘I’m not into you,’ Matteo takes and uses those things he knows, those things David has communicated about his true feelings, to settle himself.  Even at his most vulnerable and depressed, he still has those pieces there close by him, either listening to them or keeping them near him wherever he is in his room.  The connection they made has not been severed despite David’s attempts.  Partly because his nonverbal communication has been telling the real truth and Matteo knows it.

That means, of course, that Matteo is willing to fall into a hug when he sees David again.  He can see that there’s something wrong, see that he’s not his usual self and tbh he seems to have noticed during the end of their date as well; David is quieter, less able to talk properly, far less communicative than usual even in his body language.  There may not be any verbal communication in this final scene of this section, but they don’t need it at this point.  Matteo’s text to David was clear, thanks in part to his friends’ help, but also because as I said before, Matteo is very good at communicating his thoughts and feelings to David.  David sends a cryptic picture of them both running away to Detroit with other in-jokes that mean nothing to others, and Matteo finally thinks ‘well, that’s just not cutting it; I need clarity on what this all means’ and so he immediately does what the boys suggest: makes a clear declaration.  You either communicate with me properly or you leave me alone.  David hears it, gets it and comes.  Therefore they don’t need anymore words.  They just need that hug to know that things are still there.  It’s not perfect, they’re not ready to give themselves over entirely.  There are still things that are hiding (literally as David hides his face in Matteo’s shoulder), but they know they’re on the same page now.  

The title of this part is ‘make a clear statement, straight up’ and Matteo has actually been pretty good at doing this with David right through; it’s also somewhat ironic because the person saying it is literally not being ‘straight up’ in his communication with Hanna, and nor is Abdi with Sam.  However, Matteo’s ‘straight up’ communication with David does come to a head in this last scene, when he gets fed up with the back and forth, seemingly wishy washy, communication.  When he sends the message ‘stop sending me drawings if you don’t want to be together with me’ (a clear call back to the harsh text where david tells him this) we know Matteo isn’t fooling around, and so does David.  He’s been clear to this point, but now it’s not hidden behind a joke ‘sandwich fetish’ or light heartedness; it’s serious and direct.  There’s no room to mess around anymore.  This is giving a good set up for (mostly) good communication between these two in the final section of the season.  They get much better at making ‘a clear statement’ as the rest of the season continues.

Part three can now be found here: He doesn’t talk to me: Communication in Druck s3 (part three)

#druck #my meta stuff #davenzi

[noreasonjustbored]

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Jealous

Part 1:

Charlotte and Henry started dating a few months before their high school graduation. Everyone thought that it was a bad idea for them to begin a relationship because they were already set to go to separate colleges. Henry decided to attend the local community college, so that he could still be Kid Danger, and Charlotte would be a few hours away at Stanford on a full ride.

Before deciding to take the risk, they agreed that it wouldn’t work if both parties were not 110% committed. Knowing that they both wanted to make ‘them’ work above all else helped them to persevere through the rough patches. In the beginning the miles apart placed a strain on their relationship since they were so used to seeing each other every day. But they adjusted, they really put in the time and effort needed keep their relationship afloat. The distance eventually forced them to have better communication skills. They learned to articulate how they were feeling more concisely since they couldn’t read each other’s body language through text.

Since starting school they had both grown up a lot more. Charlotte decided to make the most of her college experience. She absolutely focused on her academics, but she wasn’t afraid to hit up a frat party every once in a while. She really found her stride in clothing design and would sometimes even sport her own looks to these events. Her wardrobe as a whole was more diversified. While her new clothes were far from risqué, she did show a little skin more often than not. She was overall a more confident and open person.

Henry was maturing in his own ways as well. He was taking over more responsibility when it came to the superhero business and the regular business. He would go out on missions alone frequently and only requested Ray for backup when absolutely necessary. Henry was really coming into his own as a hero. He was even considering rebranding himself and retiring his Kid Danger moniker for good. He couldn't yet decide between Man Danger, Sir Danger or Mr. Danger. He would have to workshop the name a little more.

It had been almost a year since Charlotte and Henry became official. In that time, they learned a lot about each other. Individually and as a couple. Charlotte learned that Henry was extremely needy and possessive and jealous. Henry learned that Charlotte was not.

Sometimes it bothered Henry that Charlotte was so nonchalant about people hitting on him. They had once been on a date where the waitress flirted with Henry the ENTIRE time. She was even so bold to leave her number on the receipt with a winky face next to her name. Charlotte didn’t even bat an eyelash. And he knows that Char noticed, she was way too observant not to pick on the very obvious server. She didn’t make any comments about it during or after the dinner.

He, on the other hand was always claiming her in front of random people. He couldn’t leave her alone for two seconds without coming back to some schmuck shooting their shot. Guy after guy were constantly getting curved by his beautiful girlfriend. That didn’t stop Henry from making his place known. A glare and a not so subtle hand around her waist or shoulder usually did the trick. He just wanted to drive home to these dudes that they had zero chance, not with his Char.

Henry figured that he should be happy that she was so secure in their relationship. And he was happy, but maybe he would like to see a little jealousy every once in a while. Charlotte had such a casual attitude towards the attention he got from other women, and sometimes men, that it felt like she didn’t care at all. He knew that he had already hit the jackpot with Charlotte, she was truly one of the best things to happen to him. He just wanted to feel as if the same was true for her.

Their first anniversary would fall during spring break so he convinced Charlotte to let him plan the entire week. She was hesitant to leave everything in his hands but conceded after a few days of pleading and pouting over FaceTime. She almost couldn’t believe how quickly she caved after seeing Henry’s adorable puppy dog expression. She did always find it hard to resist those beautiful brown eyes. Especially when combined with his hopeful begging to, “Just trust me babe. Pleeeaase.” Charlotte folded like fresh laundry.

Henry decided that they would go to New York for their break. Charlotte loved musicals and fashion, both of which there was an abundance of in New York. He decided that he would take her to a Broadway show, a concert and a runway show. He was ambitious.

During his research for the trip Henry discovered that the first installment of the official New York Fashion Week was hosted every February. They had already missed it but there were usually a series of smaller, more accessible shows in the month or so following. He was able to secure them seats at a show with an up-and-coming brand that seemed to fit Charlotte’s new style.

During his deep dive into fashion shows, plays and all the other events happening during their break, Henry saw that the Boo Man Group had shows in the city that same week. Charlotte loved them plus it would make up for that one year on her birthday that she missed their performance because of superhero shenanigans.

When trying to get tickets online he discovered that the group was sold out the entire time they would be in New York. Sighing in defeat, Henry was about to click off the browser when he noticed that the Boo Man Group weren’t doing a solo performance. They actually were just the opening act for none other than...Double G!

A tiny spark of hope bloomed in his chest when he realized that he just might have a connect to get into the concert after all. He figured it was a long shot but he quickly pulled out his phone and searched in the contacts. Once he found the name he was looking for, he immediately hit the call button.

Biting the corner of his bottom lip in anticipation, he hoped that she still had the same phone number and would pick up. Tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously Henry listened to the ringing tone and was just about to disconnect the line when he heard a raspy, “Hello?”

“Hey. Babe?” Henry asked.

Babe squinted down at her phone in confusion and cleared her throat. “Henry?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I completely forgot about the time difference between California and New York.” Henry said while glancing at his clock on his beside table. 9:02 pm. It would be after midnight over there. Oops, thought Henry.

“Uhhh yeah, that’s okay though. I’m up now, what’s going on?” Babe wondered while sitting up in bed. She hadn’t talked to Henry in over a year, unless you counted his extremely scarce retweets on Twitter or a rare comment under her posts on Instagram.

“I was wondering if you could help me get tickets to one of Double Gs shows in March?” Henry asked hesitantly while scratching the back of his neck.

“Uuuuuhh” was Babe’s reply.

“It’s totally okay if you can’t help me out. I figured I would at least ask because all the dates were sold out. And I know you are close to his family. You know what? Forget I brought it up” Henry said in a rush.

“Henry it’s okay, I’m still half asleep and I was just contemplating if I would be able to get you tickets. Chill.” Babe replied with a small laugh.

“Sorry. I’m a little high strung right now. I’m trying to plan a spring break to remember and these tickets would definitely get me one step closer.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll check with Trip tomorrow at work. He pretty much has access to all his dad’s shows. I can probably hook you up with backstage passes, VIP, the whole thing.”

“Really? Oh my gosh, thank you so much. I can’t believe it” Henry exclaimed excitedly.

“Yeah just text me tomorrow with the details. What days you’ll be in town, number of tickets, whatever else” she said while yawning.

“Ok, ok will do. Thanks again. I really owe you one Babe” Henry said sincerely.

“Don’t mention it, I’ll be happy to collect on a favor from Kid Danger” Babe teasingly retorted.

“Well, have a good night. I’ll let you get back to sleep. Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later” Babe replies before hanging up her phone.

A large smile covered his face when he thought about all the fun they were going to have. Spring Break couldn’t come fast enough.

Henry was so busy arranging the trip that he barely had any extra time. He and Char usually FaceTimed every night but recently that had decreased to two or three times a week. On top of all the trip planning, he was out on more late night crime alerts than usual. It seemed as if every villain in Swellview had suddenly gotten the motivation to enact their little schemes all at once. Like they all decided that they needed to complete their plots for total domination before Spring Break. Maybe they were going on vacation too.

Henry was busy consolidating his budget one afternoon when he got a video chat request. Looking up from the document that he was reading he searched under all the pages spread out on his desk for his phone. He finally located it under a credit card statement that he had printed. Looking at the screen he involuntarily smiled when he saw the contact picture. Pressing accept, he was greeted by the glowing umber skin of his gorgeous girlfriend.

"Hey Love" Henry greeted with a dazzling smile.

"Hey Handsome. I was just calling to see how you were doing on budget day" Charlotte responded.

Furrowing his brows and squinting slightly, Henry chuckled. "How'd you know it was budget day?"

"Well I know you've been working on being more fiscally responsible after I explained that good credit wasn't just for 'crusty old dudes'. Plus your card balance is due tomorrow and you always wait until the last minute to figure out your bills."

"Wow, aren't you quite the detective?" Henry sassed lightly.

"Yes. Yes I am. Also, you put it in our shared calendar with a frowny face beside it." Charlotte smirked.

"Oh yeah, I remember that now. That was after the third time I had pushed it off for later. I decided to put it in the joint calendar because I knew you would hold me accountable if I didn't do it."

"Smart plan. You know I can help if you need anything."

"Yeah, actually I have a question about interest rates. How do you-" Henry paused.

Charlotte could see Henry looking at his phone in contemplation while biting the corner of his bottom lip. “Uh, baby?" Charlotte inquired after few seconds of silence.

"Hey, I'm actually getting an important call, let me call you back later okay?"

"Oh ok, don't forget to tell me...your question about interest" she trailed off when he she realized that he had already clicked over to the other line.

Strange thought Charlotte.

He reluctantly interrupted his conversation with Char because Babe was calling him back. He needed to know if she was able to secure the tickets for them. But, he decided it would be a good idea not to tell Charlotte who was calling. He didn't want her to figure out the surprise location and a clue like that could give it away. She wouldn't be able to guess where they were going since she didn't know that he was talking to Babe. What other reason would Henry have to speak to the New York native?

Henry spent the next few weeks coordinating with Babe about his Epic Spring Break Trip. She helped him get the concert tickets and extra perks but she also gave him advice about what other events would be in town that week. She provided the inside scoop about all the cool local spots in their area. She also helped him pick which Broadway show they thought he and Charlotte might like the best. She assisted with picking what hotel would work best with his budget. Babe was basically his travel agent without any pay.

When everything was finalized and shaping up to be the best spring break of all time, Henry called Babe to ask her what he could do in order to repay her for all the assistance. She responded that she was more than happy to help and if she thought of anything, she would let him know. He told that he would help her with whatever, whenever and let her know that it had been great catching up with her over the last few weeks.

Henry had previously only considered her a nuisance based off the impression she made when they first met. Now he thought of her as, at the very least, a good acquaintance. Maybe even a friend. Time seemed to have mellowed her out significantly. He might even consider accepting her friend requests on his private social media pages. He followed her profiles but she had seemed like she would be hella annoying online so he held off on letting her follow him back.

As the vacation approached, Henry got more and more nervous. He went back in forth in his head about if Charlotte was going to hate everything that he planned. Unnecessary thoughts plagued his mind. What if her interests had changed? What if she hates Boo Man Group now? What if doesn’t like fashion anymore? What if she doesn’t even like ME anymore?

His fears were quickly assuaged on the day before they were set to leave for New York. He, Ray and Schowz were all standing around talking while they hula-hooped. He had just dropped his hoop for the thousandth time when Charlotte came into the ManCave. She immediately dropped all of her luggage after stepping off the elevator and catapulted into his arms. He hugged her back tightly and when he pulled back to look at her face he could see the love shining in her eyes. He let out a sigh of contentment while holding her in his arms. Then they proceeded to have the most intense, toe curling, lip tingling kiss that they had ever shared.

Their passionate, borderline inappropriate kiss came to an abrupt halt when they heard an airhorn sound off loudly right into their ears. They hadn’t seen each other since New Year’s day, could you really blame them for getting swept up into the moment? Quickly jumping apart they looked around to notice that Ray and Schwoz were staring at them incredulously.

“Geez guys, did you remember to breathe?” Ray exclaimed.

“Yeah it looked like you were both trying to suffocate each other with your tongues.” Schwoz snidely commented.

Charlotte looked embarrassed to have lost her inhibitions in front of the pair and weakly called out “Shut up!” while rubbing her arms awkwardly.

Henry chuckled and pulled his mortified girlfriend into his arms again and gave her a simple kiss on the forehead.

“What are you doing here babe? I thought I was going to pick you up from school on the way to the airport tomorrow morning?”

“You were but I wanted to surprise you. You’ve spent so much time planning this trip that I feel like we haven’t spoken much lately.”

“Awwww...you missed little ole' me? I’m honored” Henry responded jokingly.

Charlotte hit him lightly on the arm. “I mostly missed Jasper” she says with a smirk. “Where is he by the way? I wanted to see him before we left. I thought he was coming home for break?"

“Jasper was invited to some kind of exclusive bucket convention last minute so he’s actually in Wisconsin right now.”

“Oh. That’s weird, but totally Jasper. I also missed those two goofballs, but don’t tell them that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Henry said lowly while bending down to give Charlotte another kiss. Before they could even brush lips, the air horn let out three quick spurts too close for comfort courtesy of Ray.

“Uh uh uh. No more of that in here. I don’t like to be reminded of how single I am.”

“And stop hogging Charlotte!” Schowz said while pulling Henry away to bestow a brief hug upon her.

“I missed you! You know these idiots can barely comprehend what I’m saying most days” Schowz lamented.

“That's because of your silly accent and you know it!” Ray cuts in while pushing Schowz away with a palm to his face.

He gives Charlotte a quick hug as well and says, “Welcome back Brains. I didn’t miss you at all.”

“Love you too Ray” Charlotte says with a smile.

They spend the whole day in the ManCave watching movies and catching up on life. This place was her home away from home and she wouldn’t it change it for the world.

#charlotte page #henry hart #henry danger #chenry #Ray Manchester #schwoz schwartz #charlotte bolton #kid danger #riele downs #jace norman #babe carano #game shakers #cree cicchino

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

Proving Grounds

“Don’t you think it’s weird that a Tribunus’ daughter would reach this position at her age? Obviously she had her father pull some strings.”

 “Women don’t have the head needed for surgery. They get too emotional!” 

 “Have you seen the body on her? And the face? There’s no way she didn’t lay a few professors to get here. I heard that her and Professor Manius were a little too close... Lots of late nights spent in his office and lab together... Hah!” 

 “Are they serious-- I’m going to go break up their little rumor mill.”

 I turned turned my head to see the tall young doctor beside me starting to turn and make his way towards the group that we’d just passed. Half-smiling, I reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back to my side. He looked at me and frowned, thick blond brows furrowed over sea green eyes.

 “I’ve heard all of it,” I told him. “Don’t worry, Quintus. They’ll say what they say. I just have to prove that I’ve earned my place here.”

 “You don’t have to prove anything,” he said, frustrated, as he fell back into step with me. “You did everything by yourself - everything. I even offered to take notes to share with you when you were so sick you couldn’t get out of bed back in school, and you said no, and dragged yourself to the lecture hall anyway. They don’t know a thing about you, or how hard you work, or--” 

 “They don’t,” I agree, turning the corner and glancing down at the chart in my arm. “Starting a fight with them about it while you’re on duty won’t teach them anything about me. They’ll probably think you’re just another doctor that I’m sleeping with. I have to go change the dressings of a patient in the ICU.” 

 Before he could open his mouth and argue again, I was already halfway down the hall, my heels clicking against the floor. In truth, the rumors that circulated around me had stopped giving me a headache a long time ago. They were like a callous. I was aware of them, of course, but they didn’t sting or burn like they did when they were blisters. They’d chased me since I first entered medical school two years earlier than one was meant to. It didn’t make sense that a sixteen year old would graduate and instantly enter pre-med, but there I was, doing just that.

 Now I had reached fellow status at the hospital, and somehow, the rumors didn’t stop coming. I assisted in and conducted successful surgeries, had written a brilliant thesis, even helped the research of a rare disease that had come under my care by suggesting the doctor in charge try a non-standard form of surgery. Regardless, I would always be the ‘hot doctor,’ the one that surely used her body or her connections to get where she was. You never heard them whispering, ‘she has an IQ of 161.’ That was irrelevant. 

 “Doctor Caelius!” someone cried from behind me, just as I was about to step in through the doors of the ICU. I turned, looking to the frantic nurse that was chasing after me. “There’s an emergency. I can’t get a hold of Doctor Pullus and he’s the surgeon on call, we need you--” 

 “What’s going on?” I asked, turning away from the ICU and running after the nurse as we made our way to the emergency room, taking the stairs two at a time and weaving past other personnel. Patients in wheelchairs and walking with their IVs blinked as we rushed past.

 “There’s a pilus primus in the emergency room with apparent head trauma,” is all the nurse said. That’s all it took for me to start sprinting faster, regretting the high heeled boots I’d opted for to wear during my rounds as my heels started to ache with the impact of each foot fall. 

When we reached the emergency room, it was chaos. There were armed guards surrounding a man slumped over in a chair, and all of the doctors and nurses that were there were apparently not being allowed access to him. One of the guards was shouting for a doctor, ignoring the nurse at his elbow as she tried to force her way through the crowd and to the injured pilus primus. 

 “We’re not letting a woman treat the pilus!” the guard shouted. “Get a man, immediately!” 

 I slowed, eyes zeroing in on the pilus in question. His face was completely drained of color, and his head was lolling against his chest, eyes half open but entirely unfocused. Blood was seeping out from beneath his thick white hair, and his lip was fat and bruised, the guards around him looking nervous. Even still, they didn’t exactly look like Garlean military material; they looked more like a gang that had lied their way into the hospital. 

 I watched Quintus starting forward, but I was faster than him. As the guard that had been shouting was distracted by my surgeon friend, I ducked beneath his arm and made my way to bleeding man, pulling the little pen-flashlight from the pocket of my coat. There was a roar of outrage by the other guards, but security had, thankfully, finally shown up. Just as I felt a hand on my shoulder to pull me back, it was gone, the burly security guards holding the rowdy group at bay. 

 “Are you able to speak?” I asked as I examined the man’s pupils and checked his pulse. He looked like hell. We didn’t have a lot of time to waste.

 “Don’t wanna womandor... women docit... doto-...” He tried to glare up at me, but the effect was lost when it was clear that he couldn’t clearly articulate. 

 “Get a CT scan immediately and prepare an operating room,” I said, straightening up and turning only to feel the man grab the back of my coat.

 “No,” he managed to snap as I turned my head back to him. “Notyu--... Not YOU... Man!” 

 “You’re experiencing something called dysphasia,” I said, pulling my coat out of his bloodied hand. “Which is why you aren’t able to speak properly. There’s a lesion on your brain from blunt force trauma, by the looks of it. Apart from that, my professional opinion is that you’re suffering from an epidural hematoma. Basically, your brain is bleeding. Eventually, it could start to move around in your skull and cause brain damage, or it could very well kill you. We won’t know that for sure until we get a scan, but I have a pretty good feeling.” 

 Turning fully, I braced my hands on the arms of the chair on either side of him and leaned in close to his face again while security was attempting to escort the armed guards out of the hospital. I was acutely aware that I was being watched by the whole room, as well as the bleeding man. He was young, probably only in his late twenties or early thirties. 

 “I’m your best bet at the moment,” I told him in a low voice, meeting his gaze. “I’m a very good surgeon. And I’m willing to bet I’m the only surgeon that wouldn’t be really angry that a group of gangsters came in and lied to the staff that they were part of the Garlean military. You know it’s illegal to impersonate law enforcement and military, right? They’d all treat you, of course - it’s in our oath - but you don’t want an annoyed surgeon. It decreases the success rate.” 

 Straightening up, I was able to turn without being grabbed again and nodded to Quintus as I passed. His mouth was half open. 

 “I’ll be leading the surgery. This one is my new patient,” I said, gesturing behind me with a thumb. “CT scan. Stat!” 

I exhaled as I removed my surgical mask and gloves, rubbing my hand against my cheek. It had been exactly as I predicted: an epidural hematoma. Fortunately, the surgery had been a success - if a long process - and I felt like I could breathe again. Talking a big game was one thing. Making good on it was another subject entirely. The patient would be moved to the ICU, and we’d figure out his actual identity from either his bodyguards or him, when he woke up. 

 “Laelia!” Quintus called out as he quickly followed me out of the operating theater. I smiled tiredly at him and reached up, patting his arm.

 “Good work today,” I told him, continuing to walk. He kept pace with me as he removed his own mask and gloves, disposing of them as he moved.

 “That was amazing. All of it! In the emergency room, and the surgery-- you do it everything so quickly and neatly, you knew his diagnosis right away-- You’re incredible. Really. I don’t think there’s anything that brain of yours can’t do.”

 “You’re going to make me blush if you keep that up,” I joked, nudging him with my elbow. 

 “Let’s go out for tea sometime,” he blurted out. “Like, um... As a man and a woman. Not as colleagues. There’s a cafe that opened up with a ton of new kinds that our traders got from Kugane, so--”

 “I don’t like tea,” I replied breezily. “And I need to look over the surgical reports before I call it a night. Doctor Pullus will be looking for me when he finds out what happened to probably question my methods. Tell him I went home.” 

 I kept walking but Quintus didn’t. I didn’t mind the sudden silence at my side, too satisfied with myself to care.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that a Tribunus’ daughter would reach this position at her age? Obviously she had her father pull some strings.”

“Women don’t have the head needed for surgery. They get too emotional!”

“Have you seen the body on her? And the face? There’s no way she didn’t lay a few professors to get here. I heard that her and Professor Manius were a little too close... Lots of late nights spent in his office and lab together... Hah!”

"Fuck you guys,” I muttered, making my way to the locker room to change.

#writing #ffxiv stories #garlemald #i headcanon that garlemald basically has all of the technology that we do for modern medicine #SHRUG EMOJI #garlean rp #ffxiv writing #garlean #blood tw

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 56

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 23. Go to previous. Go to next. TW: Abuse loop narratives, drug culture talk, sensual-ish. Revised 2020.04.04 because I am a fool and an idiot and forgot I already wrote this chapter, so I fused both versions together. Swapping your love for hate.

_____________

"You were right.”

The pathetic words fell from ‘Choly before he could even process it as an admission. He whimpered, at last mustering the determination to turn onto his side and curl against Sticks, and would have shut his eyes if he didn’t enjoy mentally tracing every feature of Sticks’s physiology and attempting to approximate them with his memory of what the ghoul had looked like before. He couldn’t make sense of whether it felt like centuries or months since they’d lived together; at once, they equally made sense and didn’t. His weak lips grazed at Sticks’s scarred neck, and his face found itself in the crook of his shoulder. The ghoul was staring off into the gambrel trusses above them, but murmured. He explained,

"That it was a mistake to let me lay here. Like this.”

He climbed atop Sticks, and Sticks let him. He nipped at the ghoul’s lower lip a moment before kissing him. He disguised his conflicted, deep exhaustion by laying down on Sticks’s chest with a smile. Sticks wrapped an arm around him.

How am I going to get through this day without any chems? He could invoice each individual muscle in his body by the magnitudes of his aching. The dose came to mind, of the designer chem Olivia had given him the day before. Had it even been just yesterday? The day felt like a week, or a month, already, and they weren’t even yet to Voire. He couldn’t recall where the X-Cell-Squared had ended up in the shuffle to get off base. I don’t know how long it’d last, anyway, or even how well it’d help.

“Do I need to dress you myself?”

“I’d rather you und--” He bit down the words before he said anything further. I’d wonder what got into me, but he’s under me. “Sticks.” His heart stuttered as he felt himself grow even heavier. “If this was you on Magnetizer, and Magnetizer didn’t exist... before, what was your excuse when you gave me the chin scar?”

A choke knotted from the ghoul’s larynx to his exposed turbinates. He petted disarmingly at the chemist’s dark, disheveled head.

“Though never a habit, I’ve admitted to falling back on Day Tripper on occasion. They’re related. I don’t remember if I took any the day I... ah. Supposing I could blame the chems if I really wanted... Look, I don’t mind that we fooled around. Gave me time to work out the Magnetizer before we get to Voire. It was... nice, besides. Thank you.”

Self-consciousness gripped ‘Choly tighter as time passed, and at first he believed the compulsion to cover himself accounted for by a simple creeping chill. He couldn’t get why Sticks wouldn’t want the upper hand in negotiating with and managing the Furriers, if the chem would have further informed his influence. Were all the details of this Unfolding really all already hashed out?

“Is it... still you on Magnetizer?”

“Probably why I can’t shove you off me yet,” Sticks chuffed. He flopped his head for emphasis, finding the incumbent admission difficult. “I... think it would help me. A lot. If we did this again. Maybe, if you show me what you like about ferals, I might be able to unpack how the inevitability of it makes me feel. Perspective. Been forever since I ripped open old wounds like this. Really makes me feel alive. Maybe it’ll finally... heal right this time.”

‘Choly nodded faintly, all he could think to do. He hated that he couldn’t piece together Sticks’s motive, but he hated more that he even found himself trying to. If he didn’t trust him, why had he laid with him twice in one day? The ghoul’s head sounded more a mess than his own, though, and he willed the periphrastic toward something more direct by skirting the hedge himself.

“If Magnetizer and Daytripper are used for the same thing. Magnetizer being the league of difference between morphine and cyclo-morphine. Then, why didn’t you... ask the genie for a wish, when you had the chance? Standing right there, in front of General Francis?”

Sticks let out a lyrical snort.

“The General never extends opportunities like that without covering her ass. The side effects of the chem were her security. Helen could’a struck me dead right there for perceived insubordination.” Sticks gesticulated with his left wrist as he spoke, seemingly more to the room than to anyone in particular. “Let’s continue your fantasy analogy. I’m sure it’s like there’s ancient treasures, protected by a puzzle. There’s any number of ways to get to the treasure, but a million more lethal missteps trying to extract it, let alone escape with it.”

‘Choly’s chest tightened.

“So you do want something from the base, then.”

“Anybody who knows what that place is wants something from it.”

“What is it you want so badly?”

It took some time for the ghoul to form the answer, and he chewed at his cracked mouth all the while.

“Connecting people to their vices is and always has been my addiction. Never been able to kick the habit, ‘cause I never felt the pros outweigh the cons.” He paused a moment in hilarity of his own nonsense pun. As he articulated what came next, his energy and enthusiasm gradually managed to draw him--and ‘Choly--upright in bed. “Before you came along, I would’ve asked for payment in as many crates of rare chems as I could tote off. That was our standard exchange for my services. But things are different now. I know a guy who can interpret and even use chem formulas. One I’ve got history with. You could... cook stuff up for me. For us. You know what they say about teaching a man to fish. I’d never have to deal with Deenwood, or the General, ever again. Neither of us.”

Before the thought could even come to ‘Choly, Sticks stiffened in place to throw up his arms.

“You wouldn’t even have to touch Psycho. Nothing you don’t want to. Only the good junk. The safe junk. General’s gotta have formulas for just about everything under the sun. If we work together, you could cook up whatever you want. Most chems are a finite resource these days, without chemists alive to, well, chemist them. All anybody’s had was ancient junk, or the easy junk like Jet. You could change all that. We could.”

‘Choly stared dully into the crumbling ceiling. There was no such thing as a truly safe chem. That’s where Angel was right. And yet,

“She... did say she’s got the precursor formula for Day Tripper... I wonder if she’d have the formula for Daddy-O...”

“And don’t forget the formulas and research for anything Deenwood hashed out, too! No DIA left to argue with us for... sharing notes with the Gen, hmm?”

What exactly is he getting out of supplying me with all this? The chemist’s face slacked, struggling to follow. His eyes shut as he came to the understanding that his Lexington arrangement fell through because he’d tried to broker and cook. Things wouldn’t have soured so badly if I’d only had Jacob handling the business end of things. I’m an artisan, not a businessman.

“I’m going to lay this out simply.” ‘Choly cleared his throat. “You need stock that customers can’t get from anyone else. You need to be their exclusive dealer. But Olivia only gives you the chems, not the means to manufacture them. What she gives you, and what you can steal from her, is a finite resource. She’s got you in a position that you have to rely on her, in order to have people rely on you. And even if you do obtain any of Deenwood’s pharmacological data, you wouldn’t have someone to decipher it, let alone engineer it.”

Sticks grabbed him by the shoulders and did his best not to shake him, almost to beg him yes, yes, yES, the intensity of his glare emphatic on its own.

“Oh, thank God, we’re on the same page. I’d do anything in the world for you, if you’d be my partner in crime again, Mindy. We were perfect together back in the day. You remember that much, right? It’s so much easier these days. No rations. No bans. No government regulation. Just imagine, if we opened up shop.”

Despite the vulnerability, he trusted Sticks’s memory better than his own. No, he didn’t remember, and he got lost inside his own head trying to. Desperate to dismiss his head space, he tried to drag Sticks atop him for another go. Instead, Sticks brushed the gesture aside, and exited the bed. The cold shoulder elicited a vague frown, and he turned over on his side to watch Sticks getting dressed.

“You’ll get plenty more attention like that this evening, I promise. We really need to get going. If things play out anywhere close to ideal, we’ll have all the time in the world to fool around.”

Sticks rummaged the desk while ‘Choly righted himself and pulled his outfit back together. He came over to the bed, where ‘Choly sat, and gave him the glass bottle of antibiotics.

“You shouldn’t have to prompt Angel for your chems every single time you need them. Begging for something--regimental or occasional--shouldn’t be the default. And I don’t care if it hears me,” he hissed over his shoulder at nothing. “You tell me what you need, I’ll make it happen.”

As ‘Choly eyed the faded label, all the mysticism of the act washed out of him. I took this without even thinking twice that it was what he said it was. He tried to remember the standard dose for Clarimentin, let alone how to use it as a preventative rather than a treatment. Loopholes in his agreement with Angel wormed through his thought process. It’s going to be very difficult to keep up with this, without Angel there like clockwork administering it for me.

“--But hey,” Sticks leaned in to pat him on the knee to get his attention, with an enthusiastic smile, “first, lunch?”

Silence echoed between them while Sticks threw together a pair of bowls of noodles with nuts, carrots, and some kind of dark, gamy reconstituted meat. While the ghoul cooked, ‘Choly did his best to pin his hair back up, and nearly regretted that he’d never get it pinned again as neatly as Burns had, if it weren’t for him reminding himself how it fell out of the french twist in the first place. He smiled to himself as he ran his bare hand over his shaven nape.

Alongside the bowl, the ghoul produced a second pair of chopsticks, and ‘Choly managed with them by putting his reinforced gloves back on. To wash it down, Sticks popped the cap off a Nuka-Cola Quartz and handed the faintly glowing white-clear drink to 'Choly.

“I was keeping it for a special occasion, but I guess this is special enough. To our partnership.”

“Where did you even get it?” was all he could ask the ghoul as he sniffed of it. It smelled enough like Nuka-Cola. “I don’t remember it being a Mass Commonwealth flavor...”

“That, you remember,” the ghoul ribbed, pocketing the cap. “Nuka-World sold all its available flavors. The rarer ones crop up all over the Commonwealth from time to time. Guess people kept them for souvenirs.”

“To our partnership,” he resigned. He set it down with a sigh, and slid it across the booth table, suggesting they split it. “I don’t get it. Tastes just like a regular one.”

Sticks took him up on the offer with a smirk and a shrug.

“All style, no content,” he supposed.

They headed out without catching Angel up on anything, Sticks with his flamer at the ready, and ‘Choly atop Angel with his syringer rifle. They assumed it knew everything that had transpired, and been said, in the same way it had known how their night at the rowhouse had gone. After a ways, ‘Choly couldn’t help but attempt to fashion a daydream of how he imagined this imminent ritual must go, but couldn’t form a concrete thought without details.

“I found two ampuoles of X-Cell when I looted Sanctuary Hills,” he started.

“You don’t say.” Sticks didn’t look up at him.

“--How it got there is besides the point,” he dismissed, sensing the comment taken as accusation. “I’m asking, would it be relevant during this... what is it called, the Unfolding?”

“It’s too different a formula from X-Cell-Root. Keep it.”

They said nothing for a ways.

“What about the X-Cell-Squared?”

'Choly gave his coat pocket a surreptitious pat, and did his best to conceal confusion at palpating the X-Cell-Squared. This was a completely different coat from the one he’d been wearing when he’d been given the chem. Hadn’t it?

“You shouldn’t participate.”

“Why not.”

Nearly, he wanted to ask if Sticks had anything to do with his possession of the Squared, just as he had to do with his possession of the Clarimentin. He hoped, at least, that asking about the Squared hadn’t prompted Angel to scrutinize its inventory file for where it had put the inhaler.

“You’ll thank me for sparing details.”

“--Well what about the X-Cell-Root itself, then! There’s a hundred units, and only eighty Furriers. Isn’t that plenty!”

“I thought you couldn’t stand your identity as a Deenwood officer.”

“I can’t work on my past if I keep trying--desperately--to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Well met, Sir!” Angel beamed. “Need I say thank you, Mister Carey, for using the Rad-X. And thank you, Mister Hawthorne, for being responsible about it.”

“They’re my soldiers. My men and women. And what all else,” he added under his breath, reminded of Reese. “I’ve got to behave if I’m being graded. Am I right?”

Sticks slouched, only to straighten and square up his shoulders.

“...From the dram, down to the grain.”

“Need I remind, that we do still possess three doses of Rad-X,” it added.

‘Choly blanched before turning scarlet in the face. The Clarimentin. The only reason I’m not suffering radiation poisoning is how much Rad-X I took. I had to take Rad-X as a prophylactic. Just how sick would I be right now, if I hadn’t-- He stiffened, doe eyed.

“The third hand. It’s yours, isn’t it.”

Sticks stuttered for a bit.

“Wh-- what,”

“Ick. I noticed Ick’s got the third hand. No arm attached to it. It’s yours it’s got to be.”

“You know, I’ve got so much more than just Rad-X at Glenn Johnny’s,” the ghoul deflected.

“So much more,” Angel scolded, “that Mister Carey will refuse. Do not tempt him.”

“I’m not tempting!” Sticks insisted. “I’m exhausting available options. It’s up to Alan to make decisions like this, not me.”

“...But it is your hand,” ‘Choly continued, at a loss for the conflict between his partner and his companion.

“And did you only just now arrive at that conclusion, or was that part of what was getting you off upstairs? Plenty more where that came from today. Just keep moving.”

The only sound for the next hour was the Handy’s thruster flame, the ghoul’s footsteps, and the river.

Go to Next »»»

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 fanfic #sole survivor #lowell #the anatomy of melancholy #ghoul oc #mister handy #melancholy #sticks #angel

[spinach-productions]

Overwatch: do u want 2 join Talon?

The goal here was to a.) take the idea of Reaper being terrifying and pitch it out the window, and b.) take characters who don’t interact and put them together to see what happens.  I really enjoyed this.

Might continue if I get more ideas.  No promises.

Wordcount: 2019

Summary: Hanzo has no interest in joining Talon.  No, really.  Reaper, stop asking.

A small hand mirror (extracted from a circular hand compact because its round edges are pleasing to nervous fingers) reflects Dorado’s center square, its string lights illuminating the messy space and showing it to still be empty.  Hanzo tucks the mirror into his pocket.  His communicator reads quarter-to-eleven.  He turns the display off and folds his arms.  Someone is wasting his time, and if there’s one thing Hanzo can’t abide, it’s someone who wastes his time.

He begins to dial Overwatch HQ’s main line.

“I said don’t call anyone.”

By the time the speaker his finished, Hanzo is already on the adjacent rooftop, arrow nocked and aimed into the smoky, billowing mass coiling up over the gutters of his original vantage point.

“You’re late,” he says, bow still at the ready.

“You’re not where we agreed to meet.”

“You didn’t really expect me to stand in the middle of the square.”

The mass begins to fold in on itself, trading volume for density as it builds up into a human shape.   “I don’t care what you think I expect.  I’m here to make an offer.  Put that down.”

“I will not,” Hanzo says.  “What is your offer.”

“You’ve just watched me turn into mist and ooze up the side of a building.  Do you honestly believe that sharpened stick is any kind of dissuasion?”

“If it’s no dissuasion, then you won’t mind if don’t put it away.”

The particles coalesce into a figure, roughly six feet tall by Hanzo’s estimate.  A man, if the voice isn’t modulated.  He’s wearing a hooded coat, under which is a mask that is shaped either like a skull or a barn owl.  The ensemble is black with fasteners that seem to be made of ammunition holders.  His gauntlets are large, his shoulder pads are huge, and his boots are the most enormous of all.  The entire thing, Hanzo decides, is utterly tacky.

“Fine,” Reaper says, folding his arms, “If it makes you feel better.  Did you come to hear my offer, or would you rather trade barbs over your toothpick all night?”

“I’m listening.”

“I represent an organization called Talon—”

Hanzo has already released the tension in his bowstring.  “No.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“I’m well aware of your organization,” he says, storing the arrow back in its quiver, “You believe that humanity is strengthened through conflict.  To this end, you stir up chaos wherever you go, although why you wish to force growth on humanity is a mystery to me.”  Hanzo swings himself off the roof to a drainpipe, “I do not share your ideology, I do not care for the means through which you pursue your goals, and I am not interested in aiding or joining your cause.”

Reaper watches him.  The mask doesn’t articulate emotions, but he has an air of inhuman patience about him.  “I have ways of making you change your mind.”

“I will not,” Hanzo says as he scales down the building’s façade.

“You will,” Reaper calls from the roof.

“I will not!”  Hanzo rebuts as he exits the square.

As he selects Overwatch, Gibraltar from his list of contacts, he hears a faint noise through the cracks in Dorado’s historic architecture, like a man-sized pile of autumn leaves burning to ash and scattering across the ground.  The wind carries a faint whisper that sounds eerily like You will.

Hanzo allows himself an eye roll as he keys in his location for extraction.

-

“There’s no need to debase yourself,” Winston says when Hanzo’s report strays into reassurances about his allegiance, “I had full confidence in you.  If there were doubts about your loyalty, I wouldn’t have invited you to Overwatch.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo replies.  He clears his throat to cover the gratitude that must show in his voice.  “Do you believe Talon’s interest was based on my abilities, or my place in the organization?”

Winston skims the last of Hanzo’s written files before uploading them into one of Athena’s many databases.  “Both make you a prime target.  I’m grounding you for a few days to see if I can find where they the intel.  Most likely they caught you during their surveillance of Overwatch, but I want to be sure they haven’t breached our security.  I’d like your eyes on it after I’ve done the first sweep.”

“Of course,” Hanzo says.

Winston sends him off with two days off and strict instructions to schedule a full physical sometime during them.  Hanzo makes a reluctant appointment with Doctor Ziegler for the next morning.  Having completed his return-to-base duties, he showers off the post-mission stink and settles at his desk with a cup of tea and the latest piece of Helix security coding queued up on his tablet.

He’s just begun testing for standard weaknesses (which Helix usually covers beautifully, but it’s always good to try the basics first) when there’s a knock at the door.

“One moment,” he calls, saving his progress and locking the tablet before he opens the door.

“I want you to reconsider— now stop that.”

Hanzo, who has already grabbed his bow and quiver and thrown himself out the window, rolls to his feet at the edge of the cliff and slams the red Intruder Alert button on his communicator.  The base’s windows turn red as the lights switch to emergency mode, and a klaxon begins sounding the alarm that means a hostile agent has breached Overwatch’s defenses.  Hanzo slings the quiver over his shoulder and sprints along the path leading towards the control room in hope of getting some part of the base on lockdown.

The ground ahead of him begins to crackle and smoke, and Reaper rises up out of the grass with his arms crossed like this encounter isn’t meeting his expectations.

“You’re not listening to me,” he says.  

Hanzo dodges around him, desperately trying to remember if there are any shortcuts to the main hall that connects with Winston’s meeting room.  If not, he’ll have to run the full perimeter and scale the barriers that have surely descended around the front door by now, which isn’t impossible but will slow him down considerably.

“Who threw the alarm?”  Someone barks into the main communications channel.

“I did,” Hanzo replies, “Gabriel Reyes just knocked on my door.”

“What?  Are you sure?”

“Unless someone here has taken to wearing black cloaks with an owl mask.  Then it would be a problem of taste rather than security,” Hanzo deadpans.  He recognizes this as his tendency to shut down his emotions in the face of danger.

The ground ahead regurgitates Reaper again.  “My taste is impeccable.”

Hanzo fire off an arrow.  It passes through Reaper’s wraith form and soars into the distance.

The smoky human shape slithers through the air and places itself directly on the path, cutting off Hanzo’s only escape route.  Reaper materializes and has the gall to look annoyed.  “I said stop that.”

Hanzo lets loose a volley of arrows.  Each finds its mark in Reaper’s torso, knees, head, and each continues through until the ground is peppered with failed homicide attempts.

“Stop shooting me,” Reaper snaps, “I want to make another offer.”

“There is nothing you can offer me,” Hanzo snarls, bow drawn as he tries to edge between Reaper and the building.

Reaper matches his movements.  “The Shimada Clan is in shambles.  Talon could pull them together under your leadership.”

“I will do no such thing,” Hanzo spits.  Over the communication chatter coming from his wrist, he can hear the intruder alarm spilling out of an open window behind him and halfway up the wall.

Reaper holds his ground.  “You could rebuild it, better, strong.  In your own image instead of your father’s.”

Hanzo stashes Stormbow on his back and scales the wall, vaulting back into the cacophonous base without answering.  Reaper’s sigh carries on the wind again as Hanzo pings his location and runs for the control room.

-

It takes several hours for the various members stations at Gibraltar to turn the base upside-down.  Unsurprisingly, they find nothing.  Hanzo gives his second report of the night.  With little doubt that Reaper’s second visit means there will be a third, Winston creates a buddy-system schedule to ensure Hanzo’s safety while on base.

“This is humiliating,” he tells Orisa as she finishes sweeping his room.

“It is logical,” she disagrees, carefully pushing his chair back under the desk.  “The hour is late; a human guard would be affected if they were to guard you at this hour, but I am able to recharge at any time.”

“I meant it’s humiliating that Winston thinks I need a guard at all,” he snaps.

“That is also logical.  If there are two people, no one can be taken unaware.”

“I have trained since childhood to prepare for an assassin’s life.  There is no need for anyone to babysit me,” Hanzo snarls.

Orisa pauses.  Hanzo has seen this behavior when she is researching vocabulary.  “I do not believe Winston believes you incapable,” she says a moment later.

The pause has given him a moment to collect himself, and for that, he is grateful.  Hanzo takes a slow breath and mirrors her calm.  “You are probably correct,” he says in a smoothed-out voice, “It would be foolish to leave a target unguarded, no matter what their skill level.  There is no reason to sacrifice safety for my pride.”

“Your pride is important, but in this case, there are other things to be considered,” Orisa says agreeably.  “I will take up a position outside to ensure the hallway is clear.  Please summon me if you have any need.”

Hanzo thanks her and bids her goodnight.  His ego stings, but Orisa has given him space to see the necessity behind Winston’s plan.

He sighs, toeing off his shoes and opening the closet to retrieve a robe.

“Don’t shoot me this time.”

Hanzo slams the door shut.

“Rude,” Reaper says from the other side.

He leaves one shaky hand planted against the closet door.  It will do little good if Reaper decides to ooze between the cracks in the frame, but it makes Hanzo feel better.  “Why are you in my room?”

“Well I came to make an offer, but I guess what I really wanted was to sit in your clothes hamper and chat through a door all night.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t call the OR-15 unit standing outside.”

“Because you haven’t been able to catch me so far and you want to gather intelligence.  It’s what you do in the face of uncertainty.”

He isn’t wrong.  Hanzo glares at the door.  “Alright.  What is your offer?”

Something makes a noise like someone moving several coat hangers to one side and then shifting to lean against a wall.  “Your clan, your power, and your family.  All of it, up to and including the latest research in human genetic regeneration for your brother.”

“Is that what happened to you?  Regeneration?”

“Don’t interrupt, but yes, something like that.  The technology has advanced since I… happened, and there have been multiple cases where over 70% of the body was restored.  So what I’m really offering is redemption.  You like redemption, don’t you?”

“You’re absurd,” Hanzo mutters.

“And you murdered your brother.  Wouldn’t it be nice to make up for that?”

“You don’t know anything,” Hanzo hisses.

“Of course, what would I know about death?  Aside from that fact that it turns up in the least expected places and doesn’t appreciate the smell of lilac detergent.”

“I did not choose the soap--”  Hanzo uses his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.  “I am going to call the guard in a moment.  Please leave by whatever means you entered.”

“Think about the offer,” Reaper says, followed by the same burning/scattering noise from Dorado.

Hanzo wrenches open the door to find his closet predictably empty.  He stomps to the door, informs Orisa of his visitor, and allows himself to be relocated to an empty set of quarters while his room is systematically taken apart because someone decided to make a house call.

#Overwatch #overwatch Hanzo #overwatch Reaper #overwatch Winston #overwatch Orisa #fanfiction #fanfics #Yoo writes!

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Knowing Not Knowing

"Early in the spring of 1997, singer and songwriter Jeff Buckley headed down to Memphis to begin pre-production on what would have been his second full-length album. A few weeks after Buckley arrived, his bandmates flew in from New York to join him. He was in high spirits: the songwriting was going well, and he was reunited with his group. The same night his band arrived Buckley went out for a late-night stroll to a Memphis harbor and waded into the river. He had always admired Led Zeppelin, and was singing "Whole Lotta Love" when a boat passed in front of him. He lost his footing, perhaps dragged into the water by the boat's wake, and was never seen alive again. He was thirty years old, two years older than his father, the folksinger Tim Buckley, had been when he died of a drug overdose.   "I first met Jeff Buckley and saw him perform about two years before he passed away. It was near midnight and Buckley was sitting int he back office of a Tower Records store in lower Manhattan. Buckley had become a scion of the Lower East Side antifolk scene, and was preparing for an in-store performance in support of his album GRACE.   "But first he needed to do something: he insisted on listening to a crackly old recording of "The Man That Got Away" by Judy Garland, in the pretext that he wanted the store manager, who had given the CD to Buckley, to understand how magnificent a gift it was. Buckley needed to demonstrate the album's beauty. He had also picked up gratis CD reissues of vintage Aretha Franklin and Nina Simone records, and two albums by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, who had a major influence on Buckley's singing. While Buckley could occasionally summon the same kind of ecstatic vocal power that was Khan's trademark, his singing had more in common with Garland's delicate, vulnerable warble.   "Buckley was an unglamorous star. That night he was wearing a wretched pair of weathered combat boots- the sort you occasionally see homeless men selling- a frumpy gray cardigan sweater, and jeans that hadn't been washed in a long time. Ditto his hair. In an oddly white-trash bit of accessorizing, Buckley's wallet was attached to his belt by a chain, in the style favored by motorcyle gangs. Three days of beard growth rounded out his anti-coif, but his sex appeal remained intact: a nervous girl approached to ask if, as she suspected, he was a Scorpio. Another pressed a poem she had written for him into his hand. He folded it carefully and put it in his pocket, as though he would cherish it forever. Maybe he did.   Buckley was at an odd moment in his career when he died. Having moved to New York several years before from California, where he was raised by his mother, he crawled his way up through the ranks of teh insular lower Manhattan music scene. He had beome a mini-star in that highly circumsribed mircrocosm, perched on the cusp of national and international success. That night at Tower records the line between Lower East Side local hero and international stardom seemed pretty thin. On one hand, his debut album sold several hundred thousand copies (although more in Europe than America), and there was a trhrong of photographers and autograph-seekers pressing around him. ON the other hand, he wasn't above hauling his own gear onstage, more or less indistinguishable from the half dozen stringy-haired sound men and roadies who were putting together the sound system in the first place.   "Buckley had no video in heavy rotation on MTV, largely because he insisted that people judge the music on the way it sounded before supplying them with an accompanying image. For the same reason, he refused to even suggest a single to radio deejays. 'What I'd love,' Buckley said, 'is if a deejay had a lineup of songs, and he'd just use one of my songs as part of a really nice evening. But that's the way I would deejay, not the way they do it. They usually have playlists.'   "For a guy with folksinging in his blood, Buckley had assembled an arsenal of prog-rock guitar effects you'd expect at an Emerson, Lake, and Palmer show and had set his amp at cat-spaying volume. (In fact, he had been raised on Led Zeppelin and Kiss.) Several dozen more stringy-haired people with assorted rings in their lips and noses (his fans) materialized. AS he stepped onto the makeshift stage, a grumpy security guard began clearing some fans from a stairway, but Buckley interjected: 'Wait! Those are my friends! Can they stay there? I give them special permission.' What started as dispensation for four friends ended up being extended to anybody who wanted to stay.   "The set began with a ghostly wail from Buckley, and a mildly Middle Eastern guitar line. He sang with a vibrato that quivered like the tongue of a snake. It was so atmospheric that you hardly realized his bandmates were rocking their tits off. That was the tension: Buckley ululating in sensual falsetto, the band churning out mid-seventies Led Zep knockoffs. He seemed a strangely ethereal cherub in the midsst of all that visceral thrash.   "After the show, Buckley signed autographs, taking several minutes with the thirty or so fans who lined up for an audience with the tousle-haired singer. Rather than just scribbling an autograph, he wrote a personal note to each person. Everything he did seemed to place poetry before commerce, but I couldn't help wondering if it was all an elaborate ruse, a crafty stance aimed at those disenchanted with the slickness of pop posturing. Didn't Buckley, after all, want to make a lot of money and sell records?   "'If it happens it'd be great,' he said later that night, over omelettes and wine at an all-night eatery, 'but we just play to express. I want to live my life playing music, so that we can be immersed in it. In order to learn how deep it goes, you have to be in it.'   "As to why he took so much time with each of the fans who asked for an autograph, Buckley articulated his basic anti-rock-star stance: 'The way I experience a performance is that there's an exchange going on. It's not just my ego being fed. It's thoughts and feelings. Raw expression has it's own knowledge and wisdom." He trailed off, as though humbled by the mere thought of his audience wanting to hear him play, or asking him for an autograph. 'I've been in their position before and all I wanted was to show my appreciation to the performaer. So I feel like it's kind of generous of them to even be asking me for an autograph.'   "'It's true that there's also the people who want a piece of you,' he conceded. 'But it's pretty hard to keep feeling protective all the time, because there's really nothign to protect yourself against. Sometimes people shout at me on the street, and they feel they know me through my music. But that doesn't substitute for a real personal relationship. I don't feel like people know me, I just htink we share a love for music in common, and for some reason they key into the way I play. I feel appretiative when people come up to me, and I feel good when we connect. Usually, it serves as a nice comedown after a performance. Any other conduct would bust the groove, because I'm buzzing when I get offstage, and I'm consciously protecting that connection because that's what got me through the performance in the first place. It's an invocation and worship fo this certain feeling, this direct line into your heart, and somehow music does that more powerfully than anything else. It's like ! a total, immediate elixir.'   "By all appearances Buckley conformed to the stereotype of the poetic artist: largely lacking the practical, thick-skinned psychic barrier that separates most of us from the harsh realities of life. With a rabbit-like nervous disposition and a hypersensitive vulnerability that bordered on the tragicomic, he looked like he was about to burst into tears at any moment. His face was contorted and slightly tortured-looking during most of the interview, though I got the impression it wasn't so much the experience of being interviewed that was torturing him but the pain of grappling with his own thoughts and the world around him.   "Relationships were at the heart of Buckley's world. Although he was marketed as a solo artist, the attitude he had toward his listeners mirrored the relationshiop he formed with his three-piece backing band. 'Playing with a band is all about accepting a bond, accepting everything the way it is. It takes a lot of patience and a lot of taking chances with each other. It wakes seeing each other in weak and strong lights, and accepting both, and utilizing the high and low points of your relationship.'   "It wasn't only interpersonal relationships that Buckley held sacred-- he was aware of making his music in relation to all the sounds around him. The environment was Buckley's co-composer: to his ears, no melody or rhythm was separate from the sounds going on in the background. 'It's not like music begins or ends. All hinds of sounds are working into each other. Sometimes I'll just stop on the street because there's a sequence of sirens going on; it's like a melody I'll never hear again. In performance, things can be meaningful or frivolous, but either way the musical experience is totally spontaneous, and new life comes out of it, meaning if you're open to hearing the way music interacts with ambient sound, performance never feels like a rote experience. It's pretty special sometimes, the way a song affects a room, the way you're in complete rhythm with the song. When you're emotionally overcome, and there's no filter between what you say and what you mean, your language beco! mes gutteral, simple, emotional, and full of pictures and clarity. Were you to transcribe it, it might not make sense, but music is a totally different language."   "'People talk all day in a practical way, but real language that penetrates and affects people and carries wisdom is something different. Mayve it's the middle of the afternoon and you see a child's moon up in the sky, and youfeel like it's such a simple, pure, wonderful thing to look at. It just hits you in a certain way, and you point it out to a stranger, and he looks at you like you're weird and walks away. To speak that way, to point out a child's moon to a stranger, is original language, it's the way you originate yourself. And the cool thing is, if you catch people in the right moment, it's totally clear. Without knowing why, it's simply clear. That sort of connection is very empirical. It comes from the part of you that just understands immediately. All these types of things are gold, and yet they are dishonored or not paid attention to because that kind of tender communication is so alien in our culture, *except* in performance. There's a wall up between people all day long ,but performance transcends that convention. If pop music were really seen as a fine art or if fine art were popular, I don't know what the hell would happen-- this wouldn't bee the same country, because if the masses of people began to respect and really open to fine art, it woudl bring about a huge shift in consciousness.   "'Music is so many things. It's not just the performer. it's the audience and the architecture of the song, and each builds off the other. Music is a setting for poignancy, anger, destruction, total disaster, total wrongness, and then- like a little speck of gold in the middle of it- excitement, but excitement in a way that matters. Excitement that is not just aesthetically pleasing but shoots some sort of understanding into you.'   "Buckley's songs were composed with made-up chords, bright harmonic clusters that seem too obvious not to have been written before, yet they rarely feel formulaic. There's a lot of open strumming, suggesting that the songs were written largely for the sheer physical pleasure of playing them. He and his band modified the arrangements during each performance, playing with an elasticity and openness typical of Buckley's personality. 'Hearing a song is like meeting somebody. A song is something that took time to grow and once it's there, it's on its own. Every time you perform it, it's different. It has its own structure, and you ahve to flow thorugh it, and it has to come through you.'   "Buckley's entire career reflected on his outsider's approach to the music business. When he arrived in New York, rahter than recordings a demo or finding an agent, he simpley began to perform for free. He palyed at a small cafe on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, and before long, crowds were lined up out the door. As a result, representatives of record companies sought out Buckley, rahter than the other way around. 'There is a distinct separation of sensibility between art as commerce and art as a way of life. If you buy into one too heavily it eats up the other. If instead of having songs happen as your life happens, you're getting a song together because you need a cetain number of songs on a release to be sold, the juice is cuked out immediately. That approach kills it.'   "Still, it took a strong belief in one's art to sit in a small cafe and trust that the world's record companies would come calling. buckley palyed down his seemingly effortless approach to career as though it were common-sense. 'I just wanted to learn cetain things. I wanted to just explore, like a kid with crayons. It took a while for me to get a record contract, but it also took a trememdous amount of time for me to feel comfortable playing, and that's all I was concerned with. And I'm still concerned with that, mainly.   "'I don't think about my responsibility as a musician in terms of any kind of religious significance. I don't have any allegiance to an organized religion; I have an alligience to the gifts that I find for myslef in those religions. They seem to be saying the same thing, they just have different mythologies and expressions, but the dogma of religions and the way they're misusued is all too much of a trap. I'd rather be nondenominational, except for music. I prefer to learn everything through music. If you want divinity, the music in every human being and their lvoe for music is pretty much it. It's the big indication of their spirituality and their ability to love and make love, or feel pain or joy, and really manifest it, really be real. But I don't believe in a big guy with a beard on a throne, telling us that we're bad; I certainly don't believe in original sin. I belive in the opposite of that: you have an Eden immediately form the time you are born, but as you are conditioned by your caretakers and your suroundings, you may lose that original thing. Your task is to get back to it, so you can claim responsibility for your own perfection.'   "buckley considered the development of awareness to be the main goal of his life. 'I think of it as trying to get more aligned with the feeling of purity in music, however it sounds. I think music is prayer. Sometimes poeple make up prayers and they don't even know it. They jsuit make up a song that has rhyme and meter, and once it's made it can carry on a life of its own. It can have a lot of juice to it and a lot of meaning: there's no end to the different individual flavors that people can bring to the musical form.   'In order to make the music actual, you have to enable it to be. And that takes facing some ting sinsude you that constrict you, your own impurity and mistakes and blockages. As yo uopen up yourself, the music opens up different directions that lead you in yet other directions.'   "Asking most pop musicians if they're satisfied with records sales is liek asking moleds about the aging process: they say they don't care, but it's hard to believe. For commercial recording artists, sales are the only objective indicator of whether they're doing things right- that fans are sincerely motivated to walk into records stores by the tens or by the millions, pull out their wallets, and pay for the music. But with his quiet, unaffected boice nearly a whisper, Buckley steadfastly maintained tha the really didn't want to sell a million records- and it was strangely believable. When he talked aobut multiplatinum-selling bands who felt "disappointed" by a mere five million copies sold, the disgust he felt for commercialism was palpabale. 'The only valuable thing about selling records, the only thing that matters, is that people connect and that you keep on growing. You do many choices based on how many poeple you reach, meaning, now that I have a relationship with strangers worldwide, I have to try not to let it become too much of a factor and just accept it. The limited success we've had in the past is definately a factor, it's just there. It jsut is. The whole thing is such a crapshoot, you can't really control what your appeal is going to be. My music ain't gonna make it into the malls, but it doesn't matter. I don't really care to make it into the malls.   "'Whether I sell a lot of records or not isn't up to me. You can sell alot of records, but that's just a number sold- that's not understood, or loved, or cherished.   "'Take someone like Michael Jackson. Early on he sacrificed himself to his need to be loved by all. His talent and his power were so great that he got what he wanted but he also got a direct, negative result, which is that he's not able to grown into an adult human being. And that's why his music sounds sort of empty and wierd.   "'Being the kind of person I am, fame is really overwhelming. First of all, just being faced with the questions that everybody faces: Do I matter? Should I go on? Why am I here? Is this really that improtant? All that low self-esteem shit. Your'e constantly trying to make sure that your sense of self-worth doesn't depend on the writings or opinions of other people. You have to wean yourself off acclaim as the object of your work, by learning to depend on your own judgment and knowing what it is that you enjoy. Youhave to realize what the difference is between being adored and being loved and understood. Big difference.   "'I don't really have super-pointed answers to the big questions. I'm just in the middle of a mystery myself. I'm not even that developed at having a real psycho-religeous epistemology about what I feel. All I can tell you is that I feel. It's just the same old fitht to constantly be aware. It's an ongoing thing. It'll never be a static perfect thing or a static mediocre thing, it just has it's rise and fall.'" The following chapter has been transcribed from Shambhala Publishers' _Inside the Music: Conversations with Contemporary Musicians about Spirtuality, Creativity and Consciousness_, by Dimitri Ehrlich; ISBN #1-57062-273-6

#jeff buckley #inside the music conversations with contemporary musicians about #spirituality #creativity and consciousness #Dimitri Ehrlich

[newsfundastuff]

Roy Rochlin/Getty“It’s just disgusting,” sighs Ava DuVernay. The Oscar-nominated filmmaker and TV showrunner is discussing the role of President Donald Trump in the Central Park Five case, wherein five teenage boys of color—Korey Wise, Antron McCray, Yusef Salaam, Kevin Richardson, and Raymond Santana—were falsely convicted of the 1989 rape and vicious assault of Trisha Meili, a white investment banker, and subsequently spent up to 14 years in prison.At the time Trump, then a PR-hungry NYC real estate baron who occasionally served as his own publicist, sensed an opportunity for some headlines and inserted himself into the case, inflaming racial tensions with frequent comments to news programs along with newspaper ads, purchased for $85,000, calling the boys “crazed misfits” and urging the state of New York to “bring back to the death penalty,” essentially calling for their pre-trial execution. He concluded: “Maybe hate is what we need if we’re gonna get something done.” Of course, after having their youth snatched from them through years in prison, the five men—whose confessions were coerced by police after 30 hours of interrogation—were exonerated for the crime in 2002 when Matias Reyes, a serial rapist, confessed to it, and DNA evidence taken from the victim confirmed it was him (to a factor of 1 in 6,000,000,000 people). The charges were completely vacated and the five men were subsequently awarded $41 million from the city in 2014. The settlement prompted Trump to pen a Daily News op-ed railing against the settlement, claiming that he was still convinced of their guilt and that “these young men do not exactly have the pasts of angels.” When They See Us, DuVernay’s four-part Netflix series on the famous case, provides a riveting—and maddening—portrait of the five boys, chronicling their lives from that fateful night in the park through their respective troubles reacclimating to society. And instead of focusing on Trump, who is relegated to a couple of news clips, it places the spotlight squarely on the boys whose lives were forever changed by an iniquitous system and a media all too ready to feed it. Co-Director Ken Burns On the New ‘Central Park Five’ DocumentaryMichael K. Williams Almost Didn’t Survive to Be This AngryThe Daily Beast spoke with the prolific DuVernay, whose Martin Luther King Jr. biopic Selma helped inspire the OscarsSoWhite movement, and documentary 13th examined the racist history of America’s criminal justice system, about her latest eye-opening work. Before we get into your excellent new miniseries, I’m curious when you knew that you wanted to be a change agent? I definitely never made a decision and said “I want to be a change agent,” I just was always interested in the world of justice. As a teenager, my Aunt Denise introduced me to Amnesty International when I was very young, based on things that I was hearing were happening in other parts of the world. I remember going to my first Amnesty International concert as a young teenager, 14 or 15, and seeing U2 for the first time. And I remember, I had my Amnesty International card and jacket. I felt like there was something more to be a fan of than boy bands, and that’s the earliest thing I can remember in terms of that kind of “formal” activism. But in terms of the community in which I lived, there was always a lot going on in front of me, and I think I was trying to make connections between what I was seeing and ways to remedy them. And overpolicing must have been one of those things you witnessed in Compton growing up.Yes, certainly. I did read that you initially started out in journalism, which is one way of bringing about change. How did your experiences in journalism lead you to fall out of love with it? I was an intern on the O.J. Simpson unit. As a junior at UCLA, I’d really pursued this internship that was really hard to get at CBS Evening News with Dan Rather and Connie Chung. It was a tough one, because they were one of the only networks that had real active bureaus in Los Angeles. So I got it, and was thrilled. I got it maybe two weeks before the O.J. trial began, was assigned a juror, and my job was to be outside the juror’s home all day. I was never told to dig through the trash or any of that, but it was certainly a competitive environment, because there was an intern on every juror’s house. And I just thought, is this it? Obviously it’s not—there are great journalists out there doing amazing work—but it felt to be the beginning of a tabloid era, even though I couldn’t articulate it at that point. I just knew this wasn’t what I though it was, or wanted to do, and didn’t think it was completely ethical. So, I found other ways to engage with news and fell into publicity. Ava DuVernay directs actor Jharrel Jerome, who plays Korey Wise, on the set of 'When They See Us'Atsushi Nishijima/NetflixLet’s talk When They See Us. The project was first announced in July 2017, and I’m curious if you were at least in part inspired to tackle it by Trump’s presidential run. No, no. Trump wasn’t even thought of when we first started this—it was in early 2015 that I first started engaging with this, and engaged the men for their life rights. This started with me and Participant Media, which helped me secure the life rights, so it’s been a four-year process and I don’t even remember thinking about Trump other than his minor involvement in this case at that time. He hadn’t even said his 2016 comments about thinking that they were still guilty, and he hadn’t announced [his presidential run] yet. This sort of began on Twitter, right? I followed an account called ‘The Central Park 5’ after seeing the documentary, so this was maybe early 2015 or 2014. And the account had tweeted me, “What’s your next film” after Selma? CP5? So then, I direct-messaged the account and found out it was run by Raymond Santana and asked, “Does no one have your life rights?” It turns out they didn’t, and that began a conversation where I met the men one by one and became passionate about telling their story. So the project gets rolling in early 2015, and then in June 2015 Trump announces his presidential candidacy. Did it feel like kismet at that point? No, Trump was never the focus. When Trump announced his presidency, first, I thought it was a joke; and I never would have connected it to this, because he’s not my primary signifier, barometer, or signpost. He’s really a minor part of the story. It’s their story. It’s the story of five boys ripped out of their youth, and the story of their families, which was always my priority. He’s an interesting footnote, but from what you’ll see in the piece, we treat him that way—because that’s what he was in the eyes of the boys as they were going through this chaos and terror. And that wasn’t the chaos and terror of being called names by this guy that owns a bunch of buildings, it was the chaos and terror of having to walk into adult prisons in the moment and experience actual physical danger—and the violations to your life as a free citizen. He didn’t figure prominently in that moment, and to be honest, never really did for us. What sort of research did you do for this project? And how did you gain the men’s trust?I got to know them really well. Much more than dinners, I consider them all friends—I’ve been in their homes, they’ve been in mine. Over the course of the four years, I’ve developed personal relationships with each of them that are separate and apart from them as a group. I know their families, have spoken with their families, their wives, various girlfriends over the years, and really had to become immersed in their lives in order to really understand what I could expect and put into a story that best represented them; that, in addition to reading the court transcripts and all the paperwork on the case. Did you reach out to Trisha Meili for this?Yes, I reached out to Ms. Meili, I reached out to Ms. Fairstein, I reached out to Ms. Lederer, I reached out to Mr. Sheehan—a lot of the key figures on the other side. I informed them that I was making the film, that they would be included, and invited them to sit with me and talk with me so that they could share their point of view and their side of things so that I could have that information as I wrote the script with my co-writers. Linda Fairstein actually tried to negotiate. I don’t know if I’ve told anyone this, but she tried to negotiate conditions for her to speak with me, including approvals over the script and some other things. So you know what my answer was to that, and we didn’t talk. And Trisha Meili also declined to talk?Yes. There were a lot of big creative choices to make in this film, many of which pay off. Why did you decide to almost immediately thrust viewers into the night of the alleged attack in the park? I explored a lot of ways of how to get in. You can get in after, like, something happened in the park—let’s go back and find out. You can do it completely backwards, where the men are exonerated and then do it through the case and their redress with the city. You can do it through an investigator who’s looking at the crime, or a lawyer. But for me, it just came down to the boys—to stay with the boys, because it’s their story. When I really committed myself to that point of view it became easy to, even when tempted to follow different people, return to the mission of telling their story. We thought, no, we wouldn’t go have an actor play Trump to go see what he’s doing, because he is not them. We stay with them. And we need to deal with him and others in the way that they were, so he only figures into the story in the way that they feel him, and their parents feel him. I’m just using him as an example, but that’s the way that we addressed every kind of story point that might have taken us down another path.Although Trump is, like you said, a bit of a “footnote” in this story, he also was one of the people who led the charge in shaping public opinion around these boys. I have to say, you know, he actually wasn’t the hugest ringleader at the time. Right now he’s the president of the United States, so it figures in when he’s tweeting about the 1994 crime bill and his “staunch advocacy” for African-Americans—all this ridiculousness that we know to be opportunistic, contrived, and manufactured for political gain. But at the time, he wasn’t the only one. Pat Buchanan said that they should be tried, convicted, and hung in a public square; and in 1989, Pat Buchanan was a huge figure. So there were a number of them, and I wouldn’t say Trump was the ringleader. It was New York, he was a businessman, he was looking to get on the map nationally, and it was a sensationalistic thing to do. He was one of many players, he saw an opportunity—he’s an opportunist—and he went for it. The full-page newspaper ad taken out by Donald Trump calling for the execution of the Central Park Five boysWhat were your big takeaways from spending time with Korey Wise, Antron McCray, Yusef Salaam, Kevin Richardson, and Raymond Santana? They’re broken people. Yes, they can get in on a panel and talk about their experience, but they’re not all completely well-adjusted. There are different levels of that, based on the support that they have in their lives and based on the level of trauma that they’ve experienced, all of which are different. I think the two that are having the most challenging time, even now, are Korey Wise and Antron McCray. Korey Wise lost more than his youth—it was 14 years; he goes in at 16; he was the one in there the longest; he goes straight into Rikers at 16 and never comes out; he’s still in while the others are out; and he endured great abuse and great trauma at the hands of the state of New York. And Antron McCray’s family was fractured in those precinct interrogation rooms. He basically lost his father in that room, and the family broke apart. That family never recovered. And now that both of his parents have passed away, and his mother passed away just over a month ago—she never got to see the film, and she worked on it with me pretty closely—he’s in a state of brokenness. There’s great trauma there that $41 million from the city, split between the five, with no acknowledgement of what was done, doesn’t really fix. The film is an indictment of many things and the media is one of them, as the media at the time played a large role in helping convict these boys in the court of public opinion—going as far as printing their names and addresses even though they were underage. The press coverage was biased. There was a study done by Natalie Byfield, one of the journalists at the time for the New York papers who later wrote a book about covering the case, and it saw that a little more than 89 percent of the press coverage at the time didn’t use the word “alleged,” that we had irresponsibility in the press corps at the time not to ask second questions and literally take police and prosecutor talking points and turn those into articles that people read as fact, and proceeded to shape their opinions about this case that essentially spoils the jury pool, so that these boys were never given a chance. The real-life Central Park Five, Kevin Richardson, Antron McCray, Raymond Santana Jr., Korey Wise, and Yusef Salaam, attend the premiere of 'When They See Us' at the Apollo Theater on May 20, 2019, in New York City.Dimitrios Kambouris/GettyTrump’s comments in his ads that he took out in 1989 were taken out just two weeks after the crime was announced—they hadn’t even gone to trial, so it was impossible for them to have an impartial jury pool. The printing of their names in the papers for minors, and where they lived, was a jaw-dropper. All of this was done by “reputable” papers in New York that we still read, so I’m curious how these papers take responsibility for their part in this, and also possibly use this to review the part they play in other cases that may not be as famous as this. Your Oscar-nominated documentary 13th also tackled racial inequality and criminal justice reform, and I’m curious what your thoughts are on the Trump administration’s actions concerning criminal justice reform, with legislation like the First Step Act. I recently had a semi-contentious conversation with one of the subjects of 13th, Van Jones, about the Trump administration’s work in this area.It’s been a disaster. It’s been an upsetting backslide from any of the small gains that were being made prior to him taking power, is what this is. There’s been no instance of legislation protocols, of personnel put in place, any pronounced intention that there is any goal to really create change to build a just system. And so, conversation about it seems to be silly games on a Ferris wheel, because you’ll keep going round-and-round if you take anything that’s been proposed seriously. The context with which it’s being proposed—in an administration that’s done nothing but harm to people of color, to women, to LGBTQ people, to anyone that’s outside of the dominant culture of cis white men—to have serious conversations with serious people wasting breath on debating the merits of any of it is not my focus. Not my focus. So, I leave it to you and Van to have those convos and I wish you well. But to me, it’s pointless.Read more at The Daily Beast.Got a tip? Send it to The Daily Beast hereGet our top stories in your inbox every day. Sign up now!Daily Beast Membership: Beast Inside goes deeper on the stories that matter to you. Learn more.

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How to Rent or Airbnb Your Home the Smart Way

(TNS)—On a corner lot, surrounded by lush live oaks and Florida-style bungalows, sits Jonathan Wilson’s first real estate investment: a 2,100-square-foot, bone-colored duplex. The area was a big draw for Wilson. Seminole Heights is part-hipster and part-historic, as one of Tampa’s oldest neighborhoods and home to local breweries, art galleries and yoga studios.

Some 2,400 miles due west in the Mojave Desert is a multi-colored spectacle, called “Rancho de Colores,” one of the most popular Airbnb listings in Joshua Tree, Calif. The 1,500-square-foot, three-bedroom house, painted in blazing reds, oranges and greens, stands out among the placid chestnut-colored playas of the desert. Popular among Pinterest and Instagram enthusiasts, it was conceived by artist Patrick Hasson.

Located on opposite coasts, in contrasting environments and rented out via different channels, these two properties share one important feature: They’re both part of a long-term personal investment strategy.

Wilson and Hasson each wanted a way to create security for themselves in a time when few employers offer pensions and most people must rely on their own savings to keep them afloat in their later years.

“In 2013, I was living in Los Angeles. I realized then that I’d never be able to afford a house in L.A. unless I hit the lottery. I thought, ‘I don’t have a pension. I don’t have a retirement. What do I do?’ I had already been interested in Joshua Tree, so I started asking people how much they paid for their house,” Hasson recounts. “I bought my first house in Joshua Tree for $73,000 in 2014. I was excited I had a house, but now what?”

An Airbnb in the Desert Hasson batted around the idea of renting the house which, he figured, would bring in just enough to cover the $600 monthly mortgage payment. He wasn’t keen on managing tenants, however, so he decided to try the Airbnb option.

The house he bought was once home to meth dealers, so to communicate that the house was under new ownership—and to deter meth seekers from stopping by—Hasson painted the house in vivid colors, using a rainbow theme throughout. Ironically, this eye-catching palette was a hit with Airbnb renters who wanted a great deal in a unique space.

The experiment worked. Airbnb was generating enough income that Hasson was able to buy a second house in Joshua Tree, on three acres of property, as well as a trailer. He moved to Joshua Tree full-time in 2016 and now rents out the trailer, dubbed “The Color Trip Trailer,” and continues to Airbnb what he calls Rancho de Colores, while living in his second house, which de named “Rancho El Reposo.”

A Duplex in a Booming Neighborhood Like Hasson, Wilson wanted to invest in real estate as a way to help secure his future. He knew he wanted to buy property that could accommodate him and a tenant, but he wasn’t particular about what form that took, as long as the location was desirable and the price was right.

“I was very flexible in what I was looking for. I was looking for something that had a mother-in-law suite or an extra lot. And when this came up, it was a perfect fit,” Wilson says.

Wilson originally offered $225,000 with no contingencies for the duplex with a two-car garage, but the owners passed in favor of a cash buyer. When that deal fell through, Wilson ended up getting the house for $210,000. It had tenants in place, so he was able to generate income from one unit immediately, while moving into the other unit.

He plans to convert the two-car garage into another rentable space, which would cost him about $30,000 and add approximately $150,000 in value, he estimates.

For both men, buying real estate as a way to generate income was a new venture. Neither had deep pockets, a background in real estate investing or a huge nest egg to fall back on, and they both admit to making mistakes along the way.

And they’re not alone. More than 33 percent of renters live in single-family homes, which are largely owned by individuals like Wilson and Hasson, rather than corporations or banks. This is a $2.3 trillion industry, according to a paper by the UCLA Anderson School of Management.

Single-Family Rentals Are Historically Good Investments It turns out, however, that investing in property was a good decision. A recent study by Andrew Demers, a real estate specialist at Structured Portfolio Management, and Andrea Eisfeldt, a UCLA finance professor, shows that the yields of single-family rentals are on par with stock market returns.

The pair examined the net yields and price appreciation of single-family rental homes in the 30 largest metro areas between 1986 and 2014. Separately, net yields resulted in a 5 percent return while price appreciation accounted for a 4 percent return, on average. However, both factors must be looked at to get an accurate picture of value, argue the researchers.

Both factors combined averaged a 9 percent annualized rate of return. Compare that with the S&P 500’s annualized long-term rate of return of about 10 percent and investing in single-family rentals doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

The ratios of the total return, the study found, depended on the price range of the house. For example, the top 20 percent most expensive homes made the bulk of their profits from price appreciation, around 5 percent, whereas net yield only made up about 3 percent.

The reverse was true for houses in the bottom 20 percent. In that case, net yield was the big earner at around 6 percent and appreciation only brought in 3 percent.

Ultimately, the lower-priced houses fetched more overall—earning a total of 9 percent, compared with 8 percent from the more expensive homes. That would mean people who want to earn more today should invest in a less expensive house, whereas those who are looking for a windfall when they cash out should consider more expensive homes.

What to Consider Before You Become a Landlord or Airbnb Host Wilson and Hasson both cite mistakes they made when they first began renting their property. The main takeaways from both of them is to limit liability, treat others fairly and spend every dollar on repairs and upgrades wisely.

Put everything in writing and leave nothing to the imagination.

If you’re renting out your home, then you’ll want to have a well-articulated lease in place. This should include when rent is due, when the lease expires, what the property owner is responsible for and what the tenant is responsible for, including lawn and large appliance maintenance. Some places require tenants to care for amenities like pools and Jacuzzis.

“Everything should be spelled out in the lease. You want to eliminate any risk of ambiguity,” says Joe Santoro, founder of Personal Property Managers in Pennsylvania.

The best way to ensure your lease is well-written and amenable to both parties is to have an attorney review it.

For an Airbnb rental, the rules are different. Hosts can ask their guests to sign a contract prior to renting their house, which is a good idea for a number of reasons. First, Airbnb offers a type of insurance called a “Host Guarantee,” which is a good start, but it’s not comprehensive.

This guarantee covers damage to your property up to $1 million, with photo evidence and receipts required to proceed with any claims. However, there are conditions. This guarantee doesn’t cover damage caused by pets and limits coverage for art and collectibles, for example. For people like Hasson, who don’t allow pets at their property, creating a contract that discloses this rule is important.

Screen your tenants.

One key to minimizing risk is knowing who is occupying your space, Santoro says. A minimum screening is essential, but a more thorough background check which includes credit history, employment history, criminal infractions and past evictions is even better.

Deeper dives into a tenant’s background, as opposed to a simple credit report, are costlier, between $100 and $150, but can be a worthy investment in the long run.

“It’s better to get the right person in than to try to evict the wrong person. Evicting someone can be a long process. Every day that your house isn’t rented is another day you’re losing money,” says Salvatore Friscia, managing broker at San Diego Premier Property Management.

With something like Airbnb, hosts can check guest reviews, look at the guests’ Airbnb profile and communicate with the guest within the Airbnb website. Airbnb offers several features such as social connections, which allows guests to add their Facebook profiles, and verified profile statuses. To get verification, users must submit identifiers such as their Facebook profile, phone number, email address or government-issued ID.

Nix the expensive stuff.

Unless you’re catering to a high-end clientele, you don’t want to sink all of your capital into marble countertops and amenities. Adjust the amount of money you spend on fixing up your rental or providing amenities to the price point. 

For example, if your Airbnb is priced at $400 per night, then you’ll probably want to include a few extra treats, such as wine and late-night snacks.

However, for hosts like Hasson, who cater to budget-minded crowds, those bottles of wine can add up.

“When I first started, I’d put different color M&Ms in different dishes and leave a bottle of wine. After a while I was like, ‘What am I doing? This is expensive,'” Hasson says.

The place to splurge in an Airbnb, says Hasson, is the bed. Save money on fancy appliances and expensive furniture and put those savings into a good mattress, 500-thread count sheets and a nice comforter. Unhappy guests are guests who didn’t sleep well, Hasson points out.

Likewise, if you’re renting your home at a low- to mid-level price point, you can get away with putting in less-expensive countertops. When Wilson bought his duplex, he had to change the fixtures and he opted for the most budget-friendly ones he could find for the rental unit.

“I want the property to look nice, but I also don’t want to spend a lot on upgrades,” Wilson says.

Treat your renters with respect.

The golden rule might be the most effective mantra when it comes to renting your space.

What people don’t realize, says Santoro, is that tenants have rights. He says that many property owners are under the false assumption that because they own the real estate they can show up and even go inside whenever they want. Not only is that illegal in most cases, but it can make for a poor relationship.

“My advice is to be polite. Treat your tenants fairly. You want to give them at least two or three days’ notice before you come over, even if you live on the property. This kind of respect goes a long way,” Santoro says.

When it comes to repairs or problems with the house, be expedient. If you don’t live near the property, then you’ll want to find someone you trust who can do repairs quickly. That said, Santoro warns against would-be landlords who rely too heavily on third parties to do repairs.

“If you want to make money off renting your house, then you have to be able to do some things yourself; otherwise, those little fixes and paint jobs will eat at your profits,” Santoro says.

©2018 Bankrate.com Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC

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Black Hat: Google Chief Says Stop Playing Security Whack-A-Mole

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Black Hat: Google Chief Says Stop Playing Security Whack-A-Mole

LAS VEGAS—The 2018 Black Hat keynote kicked off with a celebration of noise, smoke, and lasers worthy of any Hollywood production. Last year’s conference drew more than 17,000 attendees. Black Hat doesn’t release totals until the event is complete, but this year may be even bigger. In keeping with the size of the crowd, the keynote took place in the sports arena of the Mandalay Bay Resort.

The founder of Black Hat, Jeff Moss (also known as @darktangent) welcomed the crowd. He shared the fact that this year 112 countries had sent at least one attendee, and gave a special shoutout to the 26 who sent only one attendee. Moss also reported that Black Hat’s scholarship program, which waives fees for deserving young security researchers, issued 233 scholarships this year.

“World events have caught up and we are being tested,” said Moss. “Cyber offense is almost purely technical, with almost no politics involved. Defense is largely political. How much money do you spend? What kind of golden eggs are you trying to protect?”

“It feels like our adversaries have strategies and we have tactics,” continued Moss. “I don’t like that. What’s my strategy?”

Moss pointed out that about 20 companies in the world have a global influence that affects billions. These are the Microsofts, Googles, and Apples of the tech world. Consumers and experts, Moss said, can pressure those companies to make better, more secure products. He offered the example of Google gradually deprecating insecure HTTP in Chrome, which now actively marks HTTP sites as not secure. That single move by just one company had an enormous effect.

Optimistic Dissatisfaction

Parisa Tabriz, Director of Engineering at Google, is responsible for making Chrome secure. She also manages the Project Zero security research team.

The “Security Princess,” as she’s called, owned the keynote stage in a chic white dress and pink-streaked hair. She opened with a picture of that old favorite arcade game, Whack-A-Mole. She admitted that as a child, Tabriz had stationed a brother on each side to whack the moles she couldn’t get in the middle. The analogy was important.

“We must stop playing Whack-A-Mole and be more strategic,” said Tabriz. “This room has the world’s best experts on computer security, which is becoming the security of the world.”

“We have to do more to solve the problems,” she continued, “but I’m optimistic. We have made great strides over the decade. But there’s more work to do in an increasingly complex landscape.”

Tackle the Root Cause

To get away from playing Whack-A-Mole and fixing problems only as they pop up, Tabriz advises that researchers must tackle the root cause. She brought up the “5 Whys” technique, popular in auto design and other areas. If there is a problem, ask why. Each answer becomes the subject of the next question. Five whys down, you start to get somewhere.

Extremely huge mood from @laparisa at #BlackHat2018 pic.twitter.com/LwiP4gtHGx

— Bitter, Tired, and Sweaty (@wmaxeddy) August 8, 2018

Tabriz gave an example. “Suppose someone discloses a Remote Code Execution Bug in your product. Why did the bug lead to Remote Code Execution? Why didn’t we discover it earlier? Why don’t we have the tests that would have caught it? Why did the update take so long? Why does it take five weeks to deliver a fix?” She advised the audience to invest more, and differently, in tackling root causes.

Project Zero

Google’s Project Zero team, managed by Tabriz, focuses on preventing zero-day exploits and reducing the harm caused by targeted attacks. The team isn’t aligned to any one Google project; they treat Android, Chrome, and other Google services just as they would third-party products.

Tabriz noted that in 2014 this team exposed more than 1,400 vulnerabilities in a range of products. “Our aim is to advance understanding of the offensive actors to inform and improve our defenses,” said Tabriz. “We have to do more than one-off fixes. Our strategy is to build an advanced understanding of the attackers.”

“The problem is, vendors don’t always have a sense of priority for security,” continued Tabriz, “and there’s a large power imbalance between the individual researcher and a corporation.” To level the field, Project Zero introduced 90-day disclosure. After they notify a company of a security vulnerability, they make it public in 90 days, whether or not the company fixed it.

“The deadline causes short-term pain for large organizations, including Google,” noted Tabriz. But by sticking to the deadline, they force vendors to rally and invest in better processes. She reported that at present, 98 percent of issues get fixed within the 90-day period, up from 25 percent prior to the deadline policy.

Pick Milestones and Celebrate

Tabriz noted that the people working in cyberdefense rarely make the headlines. They work in the background, keeping us all safe. She advised all defense teams to identify milestones in their work, and make celebrating these milestones part of the project.

She took as an example the team that worked on getting more, or even all, websites to use the secure HTTPS connection, rather than insecure HTTP. “Without HTTPS, there’s no security, and no privacy,” she observed. Tabriz went through a detailed timeline of the process, which included a poetry slam that kicked off the effort and produced this haiku:

Secrets in the tubes. People in the middle snoop. Protect with crypto.

The celebration aspect also went beyond poetry to treats, including an HTTPS cake and HTTPS pie. Tabriz noted that there’s no big expense involved, but that the celebration elevates the team and the project.

Build Out Your Coalition

Continuing with the Chrome team as an example, Tabriz focused on the project that changed Chrome to render every site separately, isolating them so a dangerous site can’t infect other open pages. She noted a number of ways such project could fail.

“Management could kill it,” she said. “We had 10 engineers working on site isolation, and thought it would take a year. It took six. Mistakes like that can put a bulls-eye on the projects back.” But, she explained, the team kept in touch with management and other teams, articulating the progress and the reasons it took longer.

“Lack of peer support could also kill the project,” she continued. “Chrome is 10 years old, with ten million lines of code, and the site isolation project cuts across all the architecture.” The process of finding text on a page previously was a simple loop; site isolation would make it much more complex. “The little team had to find out who owns text search and convince them to change.”

The third killer could have been a change to underlying web standards that would derail the new effort. Fortunately, the team got the web standards bodies on board, with an agreement that site isolation is valuable enough they should avoid changes that would affect it.

Out With the Status Quo

Tabriz refers to the communication upward to management and outward to peers and partners as building out your coalition. That, along with focusing on root causes and building in milestones and celebration, make up her plan for seriously improving security technology. Importantly, it’s not the status quo. At one point she displayed a slide saying…well…”Execrate the Status Quo.”

At #BlackHat2018, @laparisa says “if you’re not upsetting anyone, you’re not upsetting the status quo.” pic.twitter.com/rnEE6akQZa

— Bitter, Tired, and Sweaty (@wmaxeddy) August 8, 2018

“I’m optimistic,” she concluded. “You can be proud of our advances. I remain hopeful because while so many of you are cynical, it’s because you personally care. It’s up to us.”

Source: https://www.pcmag.com/article/363040/black-hat-google-chief-says-stop-playing-security-whack-a-m

[ozmontague-blog]

Aftershocks || Oz and Megan

Parties: Oz Montague and Megan Capulet

Location: The Penthouse

Date: Evening of January 15th

Summary: Oz and Megan have particularly shitty days and still try to navigate their way in their claim

Triggers/Other Notes: Nothing in particular of note.

@megcapulet

Oz barely made it through the work day. The morning confrontation with Valeria had the entire tower buzzing and people scurried away whenever they saw him coming. To be expected he supposed but the office was usually his safe haven. Finally a respectable working day passed with little work accomplished and he could finally retreat to the Penthouse. He stripped as he walked through the suite, noting that Megan was not yet home. He felt residual anger at Valeria at her defiance putting a damper on their time together at Megan's chalet. His first vacation in well over a decade and it did not go as well. Perhaps he was cursed. He put the water on as hot as he could bear and stepped into the shower, wanting to burn out some of the emotion of the day.

Megan 's head was pounding as the elevator brought her up from the car park to the door of the penthouse. She was thankful her security never really spoke to her so she didn't have to explain why she was so quiet but as she opened the door into the apartment she thanked them quietly and shut the door, resting her forehead against it and feeling worse than ever. She knew the reputation of the Montagues but to have it thrown in her face in public, to have her claim called into question because she had kept her own name at the hospital, it had been too much on top of everything else. Megan went to hang up her coat and noticed Oz's keys sitting, he was home then. That thought just made her stomach clench and she knew that wasn't right but she couldn't help it. She wondered how the meeting with Valeria had gone, another mess she had created by drawing the photographs to his attention. Wiping her hand roughly over her eyes before she let herself get worked up again she went to start the dinner before she undressed. Megan was still chopping vegetables when she heard his footsteps, "Good evening Master."

Oz pulled on a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a simple t-shirt after his shower. He padded through the penthouse and heard the noises from the kitchen. He walked through to see her standing there. She looked unhappy. Just a few weeks into their claim and he could honestly say that he had never seen Megan look less pleased with her life. He approached quietly. "Good evening Megan. How was your day today? Did your appointments go well?"

Megan gave a small shrug at the question. "It was busy trying to catch up after a week away and I don't believe I was my most productive the week before we went so it was quite challenging at times." The week before they went when everything was full of possibility and promise she thought. Putting the food into the dish she placed it in the oven trying to judge his mood. "I will go and change in a minute but can I get you a drink first?"

Oz watched the woman as responded, noting the language of her body as well as the tone of indifference in her reply. "No please go ahead. I will pour myself a drink. I think I will go catch up on news." He turned on his heel and headed for the tv room. Lined with books, it was a cozy space with a plush deep couch. He settled on that couch and turned on the television but could not focus on the screen. Megan had not asked about Valeria and suddenly he felt exhausted.

Megan nodded at his instruction. She thought back to before they went away and how she would have been sure to go over and kiss him before she left but now even that felt wrong and instead she just walked past and into the bedroom. Tears pricked her eyes as she undressed but she wiped them away before they could fall and went into the bathroom in search of painkillers for the growing headache she had which she knew they could not help with. Having wasted as much time as she felt she could she made her way to the TV room and knelt at his feet. She knew she couldn't avoid the subject all night so she took a breath before she asked, "How was your meeting this morning?"

Oz threaded a hand into Megan's dark hair and felt that touch alone settle some of his disgruntled spirit. He ran his other hand over his shorn head and looked down at her. "About as well as expected." He conceded gruffly. "She is not welcome in the penthouse any longer. If you wish to speak with her or see her, I ask only that you do it elsewhere." He wanted to demand she not speak to Valeria either but there were clear boundaries in their relationship and even he was still navigating around them. He sighed softly, "I had another one in the afternoon. Alex was assaulted last week as she was leaving work. She will recover but ...." He let out a soft growl, "Brandon did not advise me, even though he was aware it occurred. So now I must speak with him as well."

Megan listened to his words, an edge to his tone she couldn't place yet as either hurt or anger but it was defintiely one, or perhaps even both. "Yes Master," she agreed easily although she couldn't imagine that she wanted to see his niece anytime soon either. Her jaw dropped as she heard about Alex being assaulted. The fact he needed to speak to Brandon didn't worry her as much as who would have assaulted someone so sweet. "Have they caught anyone?" she asked hesitantly, the sour taste of her conversation with Ashley coming to mind. Could he have left the hospital annoyed with her and ran into Alex? She couldn't bear to think of it, she really was a disaster at the moment. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" she asked blinking back tears and not having heard a thing he said.

Oz allowed his hand to rest on the nape of her neck. "I don't have many details yet I'm afraid. It is just .... I promised her safety and a family. And within months she is getting hurt.... damnit." His words were a frustrated growl. He looked down at Megan, noting that she hadn't really heard what he said. "Come sit with me." He ordered crisply before practically picking Megan up from the floor and placing her on his lap. "You are safe Megan. I promise. I will not fail you." he assured gently. He shouldn't have disclosed the information. Megan was clearly not in a place to hear it. Once again, he couldn't seem to make the right step when it came to his claim.

Megan curled easily into him as his promise made her love him even more, not that she would articulate that again. "Safe from my own family," she muttered as the stress of the day and the past week was all just too much and she found herself sniffing back tears again. Wiping her hand over her eyes she tried and failed to hold back her tears.

Oz brushed his lips over a teary cheek. "I am so sorry Megan. I am afraid I didn't think through what it would be like for you to be surrounded by us all the time. I never lied to you but I feel I did not warn you sufficiently." This was why he was reluctant to allow the Montagues to be claimed by the Capulets. Your family should be a haven and not an ambush. He thought becoming Montagues would be easier, but he hadn't counted on the fact that Megan didn't really want to become a Montague. She wanted to remain a Capulet and perhaps that was just too much. "I have you. You can let go Megan. I am sorry. I should not have shared all this with you. I will learn to be more circumspect so as not to worry you." He offered in an effort to soothe her distress. He brushed strands of fallen hair back from her pale, teary face.

Megan let out a shuddery breath as she attempted to get her emotions under control. "No, you haven't done anything. You can talk to me. I want you to be able to tell me things...I'm just tired and over emotional and wishing I could spend all tomorrow in bed with you instead of going to work." She bit down on her lip as her eyes fluttered closed with his soft touches. She couldn't feel right until she was honest with him and she laid her head on his chest as she took a second before speaking. "I had something of a 'discussion' with one of my own family this afternoon. It left me a bit shaken," she admitted.

Oz doubted her softly spoken words. The woman was clearly miserable. Unless just being his claim was what was making her miserable. There was a depressing thought and yet it lingered, ever present. "I am so sorry Megan." He wanted to growl and demand names. However, he forced himself to remain calm, "Tell me what was said that upset you so much."

Megan threaded her fingers through his, she needed to anchor herself to him again. "He mocked the fact I didn't want to use the Montague name in the hospital and he accused you of spending the profits of crime and of being involved in selling drugs and that I was being foolish by trying to defend your actions. It was all just stupid stuff but....I've known him almost my whole life, it just wasn't easy to see him turn on me that's all."

Oz felt her small fingers entwine with his and was satisfied. He nodded at the words. He had rather suspected Megan had retained her name to avoid the connection as well. "People are going to say harsh things about us. They always have and they always will. And some of my .... enterprises are not quite legal. But I suspect you have always known that."

Megan sighed softly, "I know you're no angel, you proved that the first night we met but I have never felt safer or more complete than when I am with you." The words were out before she really thought about them, was that too much like 'I love you' again. "It just feels like everything is against us suddenly. I don't know, for months we were fine getting to know each other and now it's just one thing after another."

Oz let his lips quirk into a smile at the description of him as 'no angel'. It appears his claim was the Lady of Understatement. "Your words please me ... thank you my beauty." It was the first time he had used his endearment for her in several days. "It does appear that way, doesn't it?" He agreed with a sigh. "Clearly that was our honeymoon period. We are now back in the mire of complicated families and separate interests that continue to collide."

Megan gave a small, scathing laugh, "So it seems. I'm almost too scared to even consider thinking about a date for the holiday Dante gave us." She wriggled a little, settling herself more on his lap and his pet name giving her some comfort. "How do we stop everything colliding? I feel like I just keep letting you down and I really don't mean to."

Oz sighed at the reply. "I am terrible at vacations anyway." He grumbled softly, laying his chin on the top of her dark head. "I do not know if we can. You do not let me down. I know that being my claim has been a rude awakening. I think you were hoping for better but I am no more and no less than who you first met."

Megan 's eyes narrowed at his words, her voice getting more frantic, "Why do you keep saying that; that I wanted better, that you are not good enough? You are exactly what I need and want. How can I make you understand that?" She slid off his lap and looked at him, "Or is this your way of saying you don't really want me?"

Oz cupped her face, pulling her back onto his lap and meeting her eyes, "I have never considered anyone before and now you wear my collar. Who else do you think I need in my life? Hmmm?" He growled the words, low. Anger was a much more satisfying and acceptable emotion after all. "Yet you punish me for not being what you wish I was."

Megan looked at him in confusion. "I punish you? How?"

Oz growled, "I do not do as you wish and you retreat from me. I am less than you deserve. I know this .... but you make sure I know each and every time I am less." He released his hold on her and rose to his feet. "You know who I was ... who I am .... and I have never made a promise to you that I could not keep. You do not wish for children with me, so no children. You wish to keep your name outside our home, so it is done. I promise you safety and a home. You have security. You have as much safety as a man like me can promise. Yet because I do not say the words you want, when you want them, you look at me with wounded eyes and make sure I know how much I disappoint you. I am exhausted by it. You do not wish to be /my/ submissive. You want a Dominant with my packaging who behaves the way you wish."

Megan felt her world fall apart as he turned on her. They had talked extensively before the claim and now it seemed they had missed major stumbling blocks in the way. "I do not wish children with anyone and I thought you were in agreement on that," she clarified first before her shoulders dropped and she sank back in the chair. "You don't disappoint me. You don't love me as I love you and I took that hard but I can learn to be the submissive you want. I got swept along with planning a grand claim ceremony and trying to make you proud as you stood in front of the whole city but if I have left you in doubt that it is you that I want and not just any Dominant than I have clearly failed spectacularly." She stood up and walked to the door of the room, "I'm sorry I failed you."

Oz watched her stand and leave the room. "Of course. So you leave." He knew exactly where she was going. Away. From him. Of course. "How long have you been waiting to do /that/?" he muttered more to himself than her. He picked up the glass he had been drinking from and threw it hard, causing it to shatter against the far wall and knocking down a small framed picture while he was at it. "Damn it." He hated it when his temper got the better of him.

Megan walked out the door completely devastated when he made no move to stop her. She wouldn't have cared if he had punished her or kissed her but something to show her he actually cared. Making her way into the guest bedroom she threw herself onto the bed and sobbed. How had they gone from the excitement of their claim ceremony to this in such a short time? Her tears fell hard as his words echoed in her head and she made a decision. Yes she was hurt but far more than that was the knowledge that she wanted him, above all else and she didn't care what it would take she was not losing him, not like this. Megan stormed through to the TV room and stood in the doorway. "No," she shouted firmly. "I am not giving up on what we have. I love you and I am not letting you push me away because you are angry with me. If I have made you think I don't want you then I am sorry but I do want you, you Oz Montague not just a dominant with your packaging and certainly not one who lets me behave as I wish. Now I made a promise in front of a ridiculously large number of people only a few weeks ago that I would be yours for better or for worse and I don't intend to break that promise. So punish me if that's what you feel is needed or kiss me till I can't breath but you are not getting rid of me that easily." She looked at him with a determined look that hid her fear that he would reject her.

Oz crossed the floor in three long steps. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply, roughly claiming her body. He couldn't match her words and it troubled him that he would never be able to provide her with what she deserved. Still, he wasn't about to give her up. He picked her up off her feet and carried her the short distance to the bedroom. With brusque movements, he stripped away her clothing.

#chatzy para #megan capulet #aftershocks

[tedhambleton866-blog]

What Is Your Expectation?

First of all, our company call that a getaway," however if you are actually the moms and dad, this isn't really mosting likely to be actually one for you. Unlikely expectations make you believe you'll never do well, every initiative is for naught, you are actually for good predestined to fall short. In a nutshell, somebody which is having a relationship with us, thinking that our company can easily meet their assumptions. Simply explained, the Regulation from Assumptions tells our team that whatever one anticipates, with peace of mind, comes to be a self-fulfilling revelation. That could be that you require to reduce your requirements somewhat if you see consistent frustration. When a product or service fulfills the requirement of a customer they will be actually satisfied along with their investment as well as they are going to not be actually ruthful concerning the purchase. One outcome of the is that analysts jeopardize void or perhaps solved results from prior desires if the stats from the practice depart firmly off those prior assumptions. This is actually the greatest outcome that a personal instruction plan is actually going for and must be the utmost desire. Below are TWENTY management expectations I have actually shared as well as found important for producing a sturdy management staff. Understanding your notions as well as expectations in any sort of condition assists you handle all of them more effectively. And also no matter what places from life our team look at listed below; requirements are constantly in position. When our experts request any type of information off team, our company can go one action even further through clarifying why we need the information, when exactly our experts need, how this records will be actually usefulBy clarifying this thoroughly, our experts respect others as individual and there is actually likely less odds for misconceiving the assumption. Prepare your motive for the greatest, however keep your assumptions available to whatever shows up. You may find that the male that appears prior to you far goes over any kind of desire that you ever possessed anyway. Another excellent idea to maximize the electrical power of desire is to be as certain as feasible. Customizes requirement to ensure when the expected procedure is actually called, it elevates the specified exemption along with the indicated notification i.e. refers to as Piece #raise( exemption, message). There is an intellectual void between control and laborer on the relevance of employee benefit programs. The following are actually a couple of agreement tactics/strategies that you can easily use to regulate your agreements and the assumptions consisted of within them. Today's mind imaging techniques back up to the concept that opinions and also ideas certainly not simply affect one's psychological state, but also lead to the body to go through measurable natural modifications. Through managing our objectives by doing this, our experts instantly handle our assumptions due to the fact that our company merely have desires of the instant goal leading our team towards our greatest outlook. Each one from these requirements as well as much more will have come to be linked as safe to ones self-pride thoughts. Our experts're certainly not advising you entirely rid on your own from all desires, our company're proposing you analyze which expectations are reasonable and which are not. In calculating whether an item's security delights the buyer requirement test, the court looks at the expectations from a theoretical acceptable customer, as opposed to those of those complainant in case. Claim for example you store the subconscious idea that you are actually certainly not really smart as you didn't do especially well at university (not necessarily a red flag from reduced intellect.) This unconscious opinion will certainly affect your requirements of what you could and also can not accomplish in life - if you feel that you are actually certainly not especially intelligent, it is probably that your requirements when it come to qualified achievement is going to be actually negative. Second, so as to provide a visionary duplication of Experiment 1, we asked whether the ambiguity result in the RC-First team lessened from Block 1 to Block 2. Our company fell back length-corrected RTs during the course of the disambiguating region during blocks 1 as well as 2 in the RC-First group into uncertainty (unclear vs. distinct), Block (Block 1 vs. Block 2), as well as the two-way interaction in between these forecasters. Where the articulation of a cloned DNA in a selected overseas range made up the subject-matter of the professed innovation, the question whether a realistic desire of effectiveness existed or not might be examined merely through considering actual problems relating to that measure. Certainly not just will handling your requirements deliver you along with a more sound course to reach your dream, yet that will also enrich your quality of life. An assumption from effectiveness will certainly promote excellence, whereas an expectation from hazard will definitely entice hazardous scenarios to the person. One of the most useful ways that you can obtain harmony is actually by modifying the expectations that you place on yourself as well as others. Lofty and out of reach assumptions in ANY connection definitely results in disappointment- repeatedly. Higher desires can easily put you in a position of attempting to hop your own gulches straight from the gate. The 3rd also says that the algebraic requirement of the amount from a continual and also the feature from an arbitrary variable is equal to the sum of the continual and also the algebraic requirement from the function of that arbitrary variable delivered that their mathematical desire exists. Hence, you need to beware your time when you seek to exercise the command of a person's desires. This strategy includes measuring the intrinsic value of the equity through investigating applicable financial & financial aspects. Earlier mobile was introduced available as a style declaration and a deluxe product, with minimal requirement that day that will come to be essential need like other house appliances at home like tv and also refrigerator. This raises the concern from how long targets' adjusted requirements are actually preserved. Be actually aware and cease sponsoring partners that support (or even cheerlead) you in being a target to your own non-serving ideas, assumptions and also behaviors. Many of your assumptions were possibly set in your subconsciousness at a very early age along with opinions of others and assumptions they put after you. When I to begin with started realizing what does it cost? my expectations were dictating my mental reactions to lifestyle, I tried certainly not to have any assumptions. Lynn Kelly is actually an IT job administration specialist as well as factor to Vantage: the Social Approach to Job Administration A free test of Vantage project administration software program is actually presently accessible. This implied that people will carry these requirements forward and project these requirements onto the planet and also other people. Immediately, among both people included chooses to place a side to their desire and also carry out something to come close to the wanted individual. In his publication, "Authentic Joy and happiness," psychologist Martin Seligman asserts that interaction (involvement with family members, job, hobbies) and definition (using individual durability to perform some much larger end) are actually more considerable elements to contentment than the activity of delight. However, what does develop long lasting happiness possesses a great deal to perform along with a sense from objective and also definition in life. If you have any questions regarding where and ways to utilize yellow pages online free (prendere--peso01.info), you could contact us at the website.

[forumtechgq-blog]

Standoff: Parallels Desktop 8 versus VMware Fusion 5 Win 8 will require its own particular change; getting to through virtualization gets tough.

Redmond's petulant Windows 8 is nearly upon us, and the virtualization applications are as of now prepared for it with the most recent incarnations of Parallels Desktop 8 and VMware Fusion 5. While the primary concentration of the two major young men of Mac virtualization are Win 8 support and combination, center has likewise been given to joining with Mountain Lion highlights like Notification Center.

A no holds barred survey at last seemed well and good in light of comparative updates. Where each bundle includes highlights like VMware Fusion 5's special Professional version highlights, I've made a point to cover those. So we should perceive what, on the off chance that anything, has changed with this era of these prevalent virtualization tools.Reviewed variants:

Parallels Desktop 8.0.18101

VMware Fusion 5.0.1

General component refreshes

To start with I'll cover and analyze the new elements shared between Parallels Desktop 8 and VMware Fusion 5.

Retina bolster

Both Parallels and VMware are publicizing retina show bolster for their most recent renditions, and both let you keep running in an ordinary "small everything" mode on the off chance that you need. While I don't have a retina MacBook Pro, I could empower HiDPI modes with a terminal hack on my 2011 MBP 17":

sudo defaults compose/Library/Preferences/com.apple.windowserver DisplayResolutionEnabled - bool YES;

In the wake of transforming it to 960×600 HiDPI mode on my 1920×1200 screen, I was running in a pseudo retina mode. This OMGHUGE fake retina mode really demonstrated the contrasts between the two executions clearer than if I was running on a genuine retina screen. I initially tried Parallels Desktop 8's and restarted my Windows 7 and 8 VMs with the retina mode empowered. The distinction was obvious.Where you can see that Steam in Win8 is pixel-multiplied, the window fringes and symbols are plainly set to double the determination with pleasant fresh edges. Parallels is, in actuality, theming Windows to keep running in retina modes and the outcome is great inside the cutoff points of an OS and applications that don't yet bolster this element. On the off chance that you want to utilize the full determination of the show for high-res detail rather than pixel multiplying, that is likewise bolstered for all OSes.

Contrasted with PD8, VMware Fusion 5's Windows 7 and 8 retina support is not too done. They didn't set aside the opportunity to do the back-end theming work and rather decided on straight pixel multiplying of the whole video support. The outcome is gentler symbols, content, and windows throughout.On a genuine retina show, the impact won't be as articulated as what I'm seeing on my show, yet Fusion's is as yet the weaker of the two retina executions for Windows 7 and 8. In Linux and different OSes, both VMware and Parallels do either pixel multiplying or full-res minor mode, contingent upon your settings.

Warning Center

Both VMware Fusion and Parallels Desktop 8 should have Notification Center support for Windows VMs. Windows alarms ought to appear in your rundown of warnings. I didn't get any warnings while doing the survey, so I can't state this has much appeal.Parallels Desktop 8 general updates

Introduction Wizard and Smart Fullscreen

A great many people most likely leave the Dock unmistakable in OS X, so Parallels included an introduction mode and Smart Fullscreen mode to provoke clients when the application supposes you might need to show content full screen.The incite indicates when you have Parallels running and connect an outer show. It's a decent expansion for novices who might somehow or another be unnecessarily demonstrating their Dock to a group of people.

Correspondence bolster in Windows applications

Parallels Desktop 8 highlights Mountain Lion correspondence bolster for Windows customer VMs. Hit the transcription alternate route and you can include message directly into virtualized Word:I thought about whether this was something you get "for nothing" with Mountain Lion, however it's not: VMware Fusion 5 didn't bolster correspondence when I attempted it.

Synchronization of console designs for non-English dialects

The thought for this is basic: If you're writing in US English yet change to another dialect in OS X, Windows will likewise change to coordinate the dialect input. Tragically, two-byte input strategies like Japanese aren't bolstered, however I didn't have much fortunes with more fundamental dialect settings either. I didn't get any great outcomes between OS X and Windows 7 while attempting an assortment of French and French Canadian console designs. It's conceivable I'm accomplishing something incorrectly, yet this is a unique little something that ought to simply work as I would see it.

Various Parallels Desktop 8 highlights

For Web planners, there's currently an "open in IE [in Windows] catch" for Safari, so you can see exactly how spoiled IE6 makes your commitment to the Internet. It at present just works from inside Safari. There are some other little changes, yet nothing worth covering here.

VMware Fusion 5 general updates

AirPlay Mirroring

VMware Fusion 5 gives you a chance to utilize Airplay gadgets like the Apple TV to show VMs. I didn't have an Apple TV or Airport Express to test this element, however it appears like a smart thought for introductions. I don't think it would be useful for recreations given the idleness of a WiFi system and transcoding of the video cushion.

VMware Pro elements

As a brand, VMware's name is more perceived than Parallels in the business and undertaking space, so they are hoping to separate themselves while exploiting their notoriety for being a business-disapproved of virtualization master. This is the place VMware Fusion 5 Professional comes in. The $99 VMware Fusion 5 Pro contains the majority of the elements of the less expensive $49 form and includes some business and security-situated elements, for IT divisions that need to reflect VMs and limit the capacity of clients to bork their introduces or evacuate gadgets. Some Pro elements, similar to the capacity to restrain USB gadgets, debilitate shared organizers, cut and glue limits, controls over CPU and memory design and available system gadgets, are specifically open from inside the VM settings.

Other Pro elements like the Open Virtualization Format VM bolster, VT-X/EPT settled hypervisor, VIX Perl scripting support, fundamental VMware bolster get to, and mass organization devices, are more dark, however will be valued by IT divisions that need them. I don't utilize VMware Fusion in an extensive professional workplace that needs these sorts of elements, so I can't generally assess their prosperity or disappointments. I am yet a person who works for himself and necessities to get to Windows and Linux VMs.

In the general changes range, Fusion 5 gets another format to the VM library, with another rundown see:

Windows 8 in a VM: Parallels Desktop 8 versus VMware Fusion 5

Windows 8 similarity is plainly the component being touted by both organization's PR. This doesn't imply that Win 8 won't keep running in prior variants, it just implies that it's "upheld." This is a hazy area promoting term that is a balance of neighborly and tricky. Anyway, in the event that you are wanting to run Windows 8, it's a smart thought to get full support for it in your VM have since it has bolster for more current innovation like USB 3 that could require particular tuning and updates.While Windows 8 isn't out until the finish of October, general society betas and RTM assemble give an unmistakable photo of the full involvement, so I'm not simply winging it here—I'm running the RTM work in both. All in all, how do Parallels Desktop 8 and VMware Fusion 5 handle Microsoft's hazardous wander into a brought together tablet and desktop OS? That is a precarious question.

The extreme part: utilizing Windows 8 without auditing Windows 8

In the event that you haven't been perusing any of the sneak peaks or early audits of Windows 8, here's a concise once-over of what's distinctive about Redmond's most recent OS: everything. Microsoft took a somewhat huge blowtorch to the all around sharpened Windows 7 interface and endeavored to combine the desktop and tablet variant of Windows into a solitary ordeal. In this way, looking into Windows 8 as an involvement in a virtual machine seems to be, essentially, checking on Windows 8 versus 7 or prior. I was wavering about the overhaul myself, and this was my first opportunity to truly kick the Win 8 tires. We should take a gander at how Parallels Desktop 8 VMware Fusion 5 handle the extraordinary interface of Windows 8 and keep you gainful while conquering any hindrance between OS X and Windows.

The Windows 8 Start Screen

In Windows 8, everything is apparently done from the Start Screen, a full scale tile-set of data (climate, stocks, and so on.) and applications. The exemplary Windows Start Menu is gone totally. Despite the fact that there are a lot of outsider impersonations jumping up, those don't assist with virtual machine incorporation. The Windows desktop is a sub-application inside the new Windows 8 condition (in the past called Metro) however the desktop isn't dependably populated with alternate ways to applications. You are essentially compelled to approach errands in Windows 8 from the Start Screen.

This can possibly include another layer of communication amongst you and your Windows applications and I found the Start Screen network design unhelpful, particularly since it's not in order requested. In Parallels Desktop 8, the issue is aggravated in light of the fact that the greater part of your available Mac applications are added to that framework of Windows 8 programs. So tIn my survey of Parallels Desktop 7, I said how coordination of Windows applications into Apple's Launchpad was comparatively cumbersome. These application conglomeration plans may be helpful to a few people, however it's an immense exercise in futility to me.

Luckily, both Parallels Desktop 8 and VMware Fusion 5 populate their own particular outside application menu sets that let you stay away from the Start Screen totally. Parallels Desktop's is in the Dock and VMware Fusion's is the drop-down from the menu bar.So these longstanding components are presently basic, as I would see it, to staying away from the Start Screen totally and simply getting to your Windows applications from inside OS X.

[caitkielyvisuals]

Evaluation

I understood the problem I had to solve by re-reading the brief and picking out key words or phrases which provoked any kind of vision within my mind. These phrases included ; “transformation”, “senses- sight, hear, taste, touch”, “a city of contrasts” , “always moving, never static”. From this I decided to look further into possible contrasts in Bangkok and ended up with quite an exhaustive list, which opened up further associated thinking and in turn made me more observational as I took in the city for the first few weeks.       “You are a travelling creative, designers and visual communicators searching the world for inspiration”. This extract from the brief confirmed that the work I would create, should be a personal reflection of my feelings/experiences within a new environment. With a personal interest in sense of place, materiality and contrasts- I was interested to see how this new place would deepen my level of enquiry around these concepts. Would a change in environment and culture give me a new perspective on things? Would I find similarities or differences within these concepts when translated to a very different place? Can different places bare relevance to each other even though there is more visible differences than similarities ? Is it just material aspects of a place that make two places different? . I had a lot of questions, so therefore wanted to use my experience as a personal investigation into these things.     I started off by documenting elements of the city which were insignificant finer details within a vast environment. Not the polished images that would be used to promote the city in an idealised fashion, but that convey a true representation/feeling of place, within a non representational photographic way. I didn’t want to try and document the city as any other tourist has done before me and will continue to do after me- whereby they photograph places so much that the image on their camera is no longer original and in reality you could have found a better one on google images, and saved yourself the flight over. 

    An essay ‘Documentary Uncertainty’ by Hito Steyerl explains how documentation, as a process has stopped us questioning truth and viability as we mistake documentation as being a direct reflection of truth and reality. There are so many factors such as perspective/timing which question the validity of documentary as they are “characterised by the lack of any generally valid interpretation”. This unclarity between documentary claiming to depict fact and it’s tendency to fragment/hinder the facts creates a “paradox” .  Documentary as a form of communication is supposed to transmit knowledge in a direct and ‘transparent” way, but how can we really decide if documentary is fact or fiction, a factual representation or a narrative influenced by the documenter. ”The more real documentary seems to get, the more we are at a loss conceptually. The more secured the knowledge that documentary articulations seem to offer, the less can be safely said about them –all terms used to describe them turn out to be dubious, debatable and risky.” This dividing line she discusses between documentary being representational and non representational of reality and illusion really made me think of how documentary has such a powerful potential. Documentation can bridge a relationship between reality and illusion, making it hard to highlight fact or fiction. Her discussions made me consider documentation as a process in which narrative can be communicated from. Without personal experience of a place, you cannot question the validity. This lack of clarify between first , second and third hand information made me think about how as a first person account of things, you can represent an image beyond what is visible. This doesn’t make it any less viable as documentary cannot be proven so reality and illusion are equal partners. Her questioning underpinned my concept of us being the author of our own narrative through what we feel and how we experience things.   By producing work in response to my own sensory experience and observations, I maintained a first hand focus.My reaction to this change in environment was very personal to me and that was evident in what i began to produce- an almost visual diary/refection. As the body of work emerging was fragments of my feelings/thoughts and consciousness it made perfect sense to me as I was the first person account. From this I began to think about how disjointed it would read to a third person who hasn’t shared the experience alongside me. They would have no context to my images/mark makings or collages as they're detached from the tangible/sensory experience . Instead, they have visual fragments to make sense of place or narrative. In my head, I likened this to giving someone a jig saw puzzle without the box,containing complete image on and watching them create another narrative within the intended one. From this thinking, it led me onto considering how removal of information opens up the connections between isolated things.     I developed ideas through continual research, making and reflecting. I didn’t develop ideas before choosing a particular one to produce, as development within my work occurs during the making and doing process. It means I end up with a body of work which all contribute in some way to me finding an end point to the project. The “end” “solution” is in no way more important than the work/ideas or themes explored at the beginning or middle stages. Each stage and process is consequential to the next and helps my concept to become more informed as the process is integral to the telling of the narrative. This methodology of my work is reflective of my personality. I like to consider and explore before heading to a final outcome. An organised meticulous person will have the steps planned out before they embark and will reach an outcome consistently and efficiently. I, on the other hand like to take the long way round. Thinking, doing , reflecting. Thinking, doing, reflecting. It means that yes it is a longer process and I guess means more work is required as I explore different processes, but in turn it refines my concept.Therefore it is hard to divide this evaluation into different stages of thinking, making and doing as the three go hand in hand from start to end. With the nature of the work I produce, it is hard to distinguish an end as it is an accumulative process. I usually find a lot of clarity within my work naturally at the end of a project as I can spot connections and links to which seemed like minor discoveries at the time, but now inform my end point.This ends up in me having an influx of ideas in the last week of a deadline, so my to do list grows and grows. I like this,  however impractical he timing is, as it means I am always trying to move/develop and take my concept as far as it can go.       Processes which maintained the development of this project were really a continuation of ways I have worked before. I started by using photographs which aren’t obviously identifiable with a place and with both reductive and productive process I remove these images further and further away from their original place. Collages tend to become more simplified and sparse as the project develops to disjoint sense of place and narrative further. I used collage in this project as not as a final outcome but as a process which led to further fragmentation of narrative. Printing onto collaged paper, tearing this back off a page and reassembling on a new page- information from one image is therefore in a state of separation as they are no longer representational of reality. The otherwise disconnected fragments are connected by empty space, which allows the viewer to piece together a narrative they can make sense of. I am therefore facilitating a potential narrative between reality and illusion. This removal/relaying of information takes away the structure and permanence of narrative and makes it something more intangible.The narrative is no longer a definitive thing to hold onto as evidence for our interpretations, instead our interpretations explain this illusive narrative. Separating each of the sensory experiences I had in Bangkok helped me respond in a way that stretched beyond what I saw. By separating them, it helped me represent my feelings less visually representationally.     After going through this process, I realised it was developing the concept of fragmented narratives, but was not capturing the feeling of relentless and inconsistent movement in which I experienced. Collage was still adding too much permanence to my concept as although there was a relaying of information which disjointed a sense of place, it was still rooted eventually. I re read the brief and at this point “always moving, never static” was really highlighted to me. By incorporating movement into a static object, it is capturing an elusive feeling that cannot documented easily and blurs the line between the two. I wasn’t sure how I would represent this feeling as it requires more than just documenting what you see. Making work solidifies my concept to I used the scanner as a means of connecting two different layers of images. From which, I was reflecting upon my thoughts and feelings during my time in Thailand with some jottings in my journal. It dawned on me that although my time there did encompass layers of different feelings, I never once felt stuck or static within this environment and this process of collecting/layering and positioning/anchoring in one place wasn’t representing a sense of pace as well as place that I felt. So with a bit more noting in my journal and experimenting on the scanner, I began to capture motion/fluidity within a static image. In applying inconsistent movement/force to the collage in the scanner, I began to fracture the perspective and break up these rigid straight lines. Motion/ erratic movement of something cannot be harnessed or physically held to justify its existence. It is an impermanent thing therefore when an image of something moving is taken, it is almost non representational as it only documents a tiny fraction of time/movement. In a way it deadens the real physical feeling you felt as it pins it down to one frame. I wanted to therefore try and create impermanence to my body of work as I want to try and represent a feeling of living within something, rather than documenting the passing of time.     I chose to layer these fractured perspectives photocopies on the light box to see how light/dark and movement reached with one another. From this came the idea of a stop motion, piecing together this fragmented narrative within an irregularly moving sequence. Although I wish the concept had came to me earlier so that I could have refined it, I was glad my reflection upon process led me to this preferred solution. I wanted to create the impression of an intangible object such as light and movement, acting as a metaphor for this elusive feeling I experienced. The stretched traces of light in the collages, reflect long exposures of light . Long exposures of light is slowing down an incomprehensible moment of fast movement to make it visible.         A practitioner that has validated my own personal reasoning and investigation was “photographer without a camera “ Katrien de Blauwer . I find her method of working so interesting as she is uses collage/collection of images to rewrite and conjure up a new scenario, for these otherwise isolated images. As she is in control of the selection and placement of images, she becomes “the author” of her photographs as she appropriates and constructs them as a reflection of her interior world. As the viewer knows no backstory or context to the images, she can effectively manipulate this third person perspective of the world. Her process informs her concept : “collecting, cutting and recycling images as therapeutic self investigation. By recycling images, she is able to blur the boundaries between the past and present, fact and fiction, reality and imaginary. For me, it is not the the images themselves that are the significant factor, it is instead the relationship that develops between the images. This determines how we read the images, and the narrative content we take from them. She focus’ on a personal reaction or experience to a stimuli which is open to many interpretations, and the “impossibility to identify with a single individual”. I think this is a beautiful way to describe how we can experience the same place/moment but that we are our own author. Through looking into her practice, I feel she has made me consider placement of images and also how you can collectively bring visual elements together simply. It is this narrative she tricks the viewer into thinking is reality even though it is a fractured narrative that occurs when placing two isolated images together.        Another practitioner that incorporates the way I think and process my work is Wolfgang Tillmans. His concept of “making wholly non- representational photographs that explore the processes of exposure” is something that inspires me. He is using photography/process as a platform to communicate or pass commentary about a wider subject. I love this methodology towards capturing images. Personally, photography should push the boundaries of just documenting reality as the eye sees it- it should encapsulate a feeling, a selective moment. A photographer has the means to be an illustrator/author of their own narrative. They can play with deception, the unconscious mind of the viewer. They can portray/allude to a sense of reality even though reality may be a very different story. Their construction of composition helps determine narrative content. I love the idea of photography being one attempt at telling a story to the viewer. A photograph therefore shouldn’t be just capturing a document of a place, it should translate a vivid sense of place/feeling in the same way that words can describe. Images are a universal form of communication that stretches way beyond the limitations of language or text. Photographers should capitalise on this factor I think we can all experience a surface level view of something, but it takes something beyond this to get inside the image.       Images that make you feel something/consider something beyond the image makes the experience more personal to the viewer as they are given a tiny slice of the narrative- from which they can inform the rest. If you give the viewer everything, as in a broad third person view of something they don’t need to make sense of anything. Photography therefore , in my opinion should encapsulate/translate the sensory experience in which the photographer felt when capturing the image. I love his “Abstract Images” body of work especially as he really pushes the boundaries of what a photographer is in my opinion . He appears to document moving image and a real sense of fluidity within a static form. There is a real untameable energy sealed within his imagery and it’s such a skill.        Overall, the process was successful as it allowed me to be reflective and critical of my processes in relation to the experience, which then ultimately impacted the concept. It also made me more aware of using more than just sight to document a first hand account of an experience- sensory experience helps you make sense of what you experience. Process and reflection allowed me to become more confident with using simpler image making as the two worked well in refining my concept. The end “solution” could have been more successful, had the idea came to me nearer the deadline. If I had another week, to explore this medium further it would have made the “solution” a more conclusive end. For example it could have been made more sophisticatedly, however I do like the jerky inconsistency of the paper moving over one another. The process , however arguably successful/unsuccessful it was , got me to the point/concept of impermanence within my static fragmented images so this is a success in my eyes.       In the future, I want to incorporate moving image more as a process materialising my concept . I want to spend more time exploring the medium and find out more about it’s process. By gaining further knowledge of new processes, it can only richen and diversify my body of work. Process is a stimuli for the growth of my narrative concepts so the more areas I can infiltrate the better. Process and developing work a body of work for me , is what calculations are to a mathematician. I find it hard to reach a justified end to a body of work as I view it as a progressive/accumulative cycle that can keep going. This idea of “end solution” is something I need to work on as it will enable a more justified summary of the whole body of work.