i don't actually have a new fic to recommend, but i wanted to start the thread and use the title, so here it is
-Z, Post-reader at Medium
----
If architects built buildings the way programmers write programs, the first woodpecker to come along would destroy civilization.

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Because of Federal regulations having to do with data security at institutions like AM Best, the IT department here has started blocking access to all external
email services. Including the web gateway through which I have been reading my email at work for the last few years. So if you're one of the folks who
emails me on a regular basis, be aware that I can no longer see or respond to your mails until I get home in the evening -- and if I get caught up in
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-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

Pain, without love

Pain, can't get enough

Pain, I like it rough

'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

You're sick of feeling numb

You're not the only one

I'll take you by the hand

And I'll show you a world that you can understand

This life is filled with hurt

When happiness doesn't work

Trust me and take my hand

When the lights go out you will understand

Pain, without love

Pain, can't get enough

Pain, I like it rough

'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

Pain, without love

Pain, can't get enough

Pain, I like it rough

'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

Anger and agony

Are better than misery

Trust me. I've got a plan

When the lights go up, you will understand

Pain, without love

Pain, can't get enough

Pain, I like it rough

'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

Pain, without love

Pain, can't get enough

Pain, I like it rough

'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing

Rather feel pain

I know (I know I know I know I know)

That you're wounded

You know (You know you know you know you know)

That I'm here to save you

You know (You know you know you know)

I'm always here for you

I know (I know I know I know I know)

That you'll thank me later

Pain, without love

Pain, can't get enough

Pain, I like it rough

'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

***

Rhea was rather tired of the way this day had gone. This entire world seemed out to spite her. If it wasn't that damned imp chasing after her everywhere,
it was running near her duplicate that seemed to be native here, which was a mixture of horrified observation of what she'd become here and bitter envy of
what she'd managed despite it. She'd kept her mind intact through all that she'd gone through since that horrible day, and the her that snapped
under the pressure gets a borderline perfect life? That was fair?

All in all, she wasn't in the mood for shit as a group of Hellions closed in on her. The cheap teases at her body did nothing to improve her mood, but she
ignored them. They were harmless. Then one grabbed her arm. The entire day, entire week, entire month, the entire time she'd been in this damned dimension
weighed down on Rhea's patience. And that weight caused the brittle structure to snap.

"You want to play, boys? Fine. Let's play," she smiled, before wheeling around and belting the first Hellion in the stupid demon mask with a
skill born of military training. She felt his nose give way with a satisfying crack behind the mask, her own knuckles protected from the dumb move(never punch
a man in the nose, her instructor'd always said. It's harder than your hand) by a skintight sheathe of directed gravity. The others were quickly
immobilized in similar restraints that caused them to gape incredulously at the woman in generally civilian clothes. One expressed their amazement eloquently
enough.

"Fuck! She's a cape!"

***

Officer Capone liked the Atlas beat. The sheer volume of heroes in the immediate area meant he didn't really have to do much work to suppress the local
Hellions and other groups besides point them in the right direction. Truly dangerous super-powered threats were rare enough, and usually there were heroes
pursuing those as well. Nothing'd really happened in Atlas Park proper in so long that he could actually eat a
donut in relative comfort. Especially since he was far enough from the bank if it was robbed...

Thus, when he first saw the situation, Officer Capone didn't necessarily believe his eyes. A young, dark red haired woman in casual clothing was flicking
her fingers at a group of Hellions that seemed to be bending in ways that the human body wasn't supposed to. At first, he thought it was just coincidence,
until he heard a sickening crack from one of the Hellions' arms, and a disturbing giggle from the woman in
question. "My my, silly me. I pressed just too far for your arm to stand. My mistake."

Officer Capone was no hero. If this woman, obviously deranged, was able to handle Hellions with that little effort, there was nothing he could do alone. So he
immediately pulled out his radio and called it in, then drove his car around the block, hoping she wouldn't notice him and be one of those villians who blew everything in their way up on general principle.

***

Rhea's brief bit of vengeance was spoiled by the sound of sirens, causing her to sigh and release the Hellions from the gravitational holds she'd put
them in as several cars screeched to a halt in front of her, officers jumping out and aiming several guns at her. She didn't want to be put in jail, and
obviously someone'd noticed what she was doing to the Hellions. Waving jauntily, she took off in a burst of anti-gravity, flying away at a leisurely pace
as the cops opened fire, missing due to the slight bubble of altered gravity around her.

One officer cursed, pulling up his radio. "Johnson, get me Longbow! We need an Eagle squa-" he stared at the radio as a gunbarrel hit the power
button, turning it off.

"That won't be necessary," the green armored figure in semi-futuristic armor, gently cradling an advanced assault rifle noted. "My
name's Sell-Sword. I'll take care of this. Just keep the Eagles on alert, but don't send them out till you hear from me."

"Why should I believe you can handle her alone?" the officer scowled.

"Because I'm slumming down here. My normal beat is Striga and Faultline," Sell-sword chuckled, before taking off in a burst of blue flame from
rockets built into his boots.

***

Rhea had felt she had a decent escape going before she noticed the man in green flying behind her. From the looks of things, his method of propulsion were
those rocket boots he was wearing, so she darted and zigged through a few alleyways and walkways, counting on her own maneuverability to be able to shake him.
Seemingly, she did, and Rhea was just about to feel good about proving another of these jumped up civvies inadequate to a real soldier when she ran squarely
into her former pursuer, appearing out of thin air. Smacking into the armored figure ruined her concentration, sending the young woman tumbling a couple
stories before she regained her control, seeing him descending after her. She blasted a few bits of radiation in his direction, but they were artfully dodged
as he closed the distance. She didn't really see the object bouncing down towards her till it exploded, sticky goo spreading out all over her, dragging her
the rest of the way to the ground. In a blind panic, she reacted with her gravity powers, fire escapes, clothes lines and other nearby "handholds"
groaning as she attempted to slow herself instinctually, also pulling her pursuer to the ground as well. As she struggled to her feet, Rhea glared at the green
armored man. He looked at her.

"You know, it'd really be easier for everyone involved if you just came quietly."

"Fuck THAT," she snarled, reaching out and gripping him with her gravity abilities. She was so focused on crushing him that she didn't notice for
a whole second when the cold gunbarrel rested itself against her forehead. She started, looking upwards, before looking back at him.

"Yes. You'll be calming down now. And you can't hold me like a two bit thug like those Hellions," the man said calmly, almost casually.

Seeing no real options but waiting for him to put down the gun, Rhea crossed her arms. "So, what now, buddy? Gonna throw me to the cops?"

"That depends on you," Sell-sword noted. "Now, please understand, I don't hold what you did to those Hellions against you. Really rather
minor. Doing it out in the open was stupid, though."

Rhea snorted. "So I could tell. So, is this the part where you offer to shuffle me off into some mysterious special ops group to do your dirty work?"

Sword chuckled. "Nothing of the sort. I'm here because you interest me."

"Interest you," she noted cynically.

"Indeed," he said, keeping that frighteningly large rifle pointed at her. "You see, you strike me as someone not essentially....evil, as certain
people would define it, so much as you're very self-entitled to what you want, and suffer fools poorly."

Rhea looked at him, her face clearly unconvinced. "That's...kinda accurate, I guess..."

"Congratulations. By the definitions of some more...strictly moral heroes in this city, you're a supervillian. I'm not one of them, though,"
he said with a chuckle. "That said, there are very tight laws for non-registered metas using their powers in public. You dance over the line, at the
moment, but that can change."

"By what?"

"By getting a hero liscense," he noted. At her incredulous look, he smiled behind his helmet. "Don't feel it obligates you all too much.
You're merely registering for their comfort. Nowhere does it say you actually have to take action under any
circumstance. That's a draft, and that was shot down in the 60s. I'd think they'd tell you that in basic."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly like this back the-" Rhea stopped, staring at him despite the gun. "How'd you know I was...?!"

"I know a lot about you. About how you were a field medic before, and that your unit was wiped out but only you survived. Like I said, you interest
me."

"You know more about me than you should," she growled. "How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"Because I have to keep some sort of secret from you. I'd lose my mystique otherwise," the armored man chuckled.

The girl frowned at the non-answer. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm a charitable person," he noted deadpan. "No, actually, it's because you remind me of myself. You're not exactly evil,
but you don't bother with their conventions of honor, good, and decency. However, you lack subtlety and control. In your current situation, you'd
undoubtedly be caught by any of a dozen heroes with greater powers than I have, shipped off to the Zig, and eventually freed in one of Arachnos' periodic
raids on the prison there. Perhaps you really would become a supervillian. I don't know. All I know is it'd be
a waste, and I'd rather not lose someone like you to her own foolish mistakes. Perhaps I'm getting sentimental in my old age."

"You know any decision I make is somewhat hard given you have a gun pointed at my forhead," Rhea noted

Sword chuckled, letting the rifle slip down. "I'd think it'd be the other way around, but what do I know?"

Rhea considered using the split second advantage she'd have to flee, but something about the way the man carried himself suggested he wasn't
bullshitting her. At least, if she wasn't going to be hunted down this way...."Okay. What do I have to do?"

"The bane of any hero, regardless of origin," he chuckled. "Paperwork."

***

"Onyx Blast" walked out of the paperwork, scowling into her cell phone. "They aren't letting me fly till at least Security Level 14. This is total bullshit!"

"Consider it a consequence of your rampage. I pulled what strings I could, but you're stuck abiding by the same rules as every other hero,"
Sword's voice noted over the phone. "Unless you'd prefer the Zig."

Onyx scowled at the phone. "I don't see why you're not here. They'd be more amenable if half of them didn't think I'd forged your
approval."

"It can't be helped," Sword noted. "I'm on the tail of one last complication. But feel free to use the base's facilities, such as
they are. Or the Legendary's. They don't let us into their Enhancement racks, but the teleporter bay is certainly useful enough," he chuckled.

"Fine...but you owe me for this."

"Yes, I'm sure I do."

***

Vengey watched as his target came out of City Hall, obviously holding papers that made her a registered hero, and silently cursed. He wasn't sure who that
armored man had been that'd convinced her to move away from his carefully plotted....well, okay, not so much carefully plotted as stupidly lucky break of a
plan to twist her one screw at a time until she snapped and ended up in the Rogue Isles. She was strong, and with enough work, Vengey'd get a great bonus
from the bosses downstairs if he broke her to their side.

The imp was so caught up in a rather imaginative fantasy about what he'd do with his bonus that he didn't notice the telltale footsteps of someone
behind him until a magazine was slid into a rifle. That caught his attention, and he turned around in time to see a figure blurred by muzzle flashes from an
automatic rifle, shredding his knee at the joint and dropping him to the ground in a somewhat dulled imitation of what mortals called pain. He was about to
fling a blast of hellfire in the figure's direction when his infernal senses detected something truly frightening emanating from the double barreled
shotgun aimed in the direction of his head.

"Yes, I imagine that this would get your attention. I didn't receive it to deal with your kind, but I imagine it works just the same," Sell-sword
noted, cocking the blessed shotgun carefully in one hand, his other rifle cradled over his back. Clad in civilian guise, he was certain no one would really
recognize him if anyone was watching. "Now, let's talk about your job with an acquaintance of mine..."

"I don't know what yer talkin' bout, psycho. You're the one goes round shooting people at random what're doin' nothing
od-AARRRRRGHHHH!!" Vengey yelled as Sell-sword touched the tip of the shotgun to the wound his rifle had ripped in the imp.

"Don't play dumb with me, Mr. Imp. It won't work. We both know what I'm talking about, so you should play this as straight as you're able
to, I imagine," Sword said, pulling the shotgun back. "And that rifle wound's nothing to one of your kind, so really...why are you
complaining?"

Vengey glared demonic vengeance at the man, who seemed unruffled.

"Now...I'll ask questions, and you will answer yes or no. Understood?"

Vengey considered his options, realized they were limited and eyed the shotgun warily. "Yeah."

"Very good. Now, you were assigned to Rhea?"

"Yes."

"To torment her to some diabolical end regarding her sanity."

"Yeah."

"And now you're frustrated because I seem to have foiled you."

"Yea..wait, that was you?!"

"I'm asking the questions, but yes. You may be assured that if you take any action, I will take action,"
Sell-sword noted, looking at the demon. "Now that I've confirmed why you're here, let me make myself clear as to what you're going to do from
now on. You are going to leave her alone. Make any plays for her mental well being from here on, and you will answer to me. I won't kill you. I can't,
really. I can just send you back where you came from. But I can make the process slow and extremely painful. At least, as much as a mere mortal like me
can," Sword said casually. "At that point, you'll be delivered to your bosses down in the pit, a failure who not only failed to deliver the
goods, but who got outsmarted by a mere mortal. I imagine your punishment will be most severe. The week of torture
I'd put you through before that will probably seem like a health spa and massage in comaprison."

Vengey once again considered his options, and found himself staring the man in the eye as he did so. What he saw there scared him. Cold, ice blue eyes with no
hint of movement or deviation. Eyes were the windows to the soul, and what Vengey saw of this man's soul was enough to make him think that those had been
no idle threats before. This man had decided, for whatever reason, to protect his target, and if he made any overt plays, Vengey was in for pain both in this
world and the next of the kind that would suitable unstick his cool. On the other hand, he didn't seem magically endowed at all, so he couldn't hold
Vengey to any deal by a mystical binding....

For the moment, the imp nodded. "Fine. You got yourself a deal." Shaking out his leg, he waited until Sword backed up, letting him get to his feet.
"You're a sick bastard, you know that?"

"I imagine that's a compliment."

Vengey smirked, before turning around and heading back down the alley. He was about five feet away when his head exploded in a shower of pinkish goo as a
hollow point bullet went through it like a hot knife in a slipstream through some very imp-flavored pudding sitting on top of a table. The imp wavered, then
shuddered as his head reformed, bending down to pick up his hat. "Do you have any idea how that stings?!" he
growled.

Sell-sword smiled. "Not really. But I don't really care."

Faced with that reaction, Vengey growled and stalked off to find somewhere to lurk while he tried to plot his way out of this situation.

***

"You recruited someone new," Ifrit noted, looking skeptically at Sell-sword. The mercenary snickered at her expression.

"Don't sound so shocked. She's a little rough around the edges, but I think she has potential. She just needs guidance to keep her on our
side."

"...fine. But you really could have warned us first," she said, sighing. Sell-sword never gave her that kind of speech if he didn't have some
amusing secret that no amount of interrogation could drag out of him before she stumbled across it.

"Of course. I'll try to do better in the future," Sword lied, silently considering what Ifrit's reaction would be when she realized Onyx was
a perfect ringer for one of their allies in the Legendary in several ways...
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."

As in, worlds that Good Ol' Doug Sangnoir should avoid, for whatever reason:

You know, maybe the world of Tenchi Muyo Ryo-Ohki. The thematic and character development stuff would probably be covered with the AMG step, as well as the
fact that it would take a lot of plot contrivance to NOT send Doug on his way almost immediately. Hmm . . . still . . .

The world of Melnibone. Or Jerry Cornelius' London. Heck, any of the Eternal Champion's stomping grounds. Though there is the notion that Doug's
run into the ol' EC once in a while.

Okay, I'm going to make this argument. The Suzumiya Haruhi world. The reason? Because the premise of the series is that Haruhi WANTS there to be
fantastical things happening all around her, but cannot perceive them or the universe will implode. If Doug shows up, pffft goes the underlying irony of the
series.

Abenobashi Mahou Shotengai. If only because Doug would cry and cry and cry.

Urusei Yatsura. For the same reason.

Inu Yasha. Too great a power disparity there.

What other worlds should Doug not visit?

-murmur

The http://www.astraproject.org/]ASTRA Project "aims to reconstruct the sound or timbre of ancient instruments (not existing anymore) using archaeological data as fragments from excavations, written descriptions, pictures..." They also use custom software to create their end-results.

Be sure to visit the Downloads page for samples...
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

Today at work, a coworker wandered by my desk. I only saw him out of the corner of my eye, at first. I jumped in shock -- OH MY GOD, A _LOST_!

Er, no, not so much. Just a guy with a baseball cap and hoodie.

O_o

So. Share your 'durr' moments?

--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs

Our Hero cuts under the surface of the ocean. This body armor was allegedly spaceworthy as it had been handwaved from top to bottom and so it would be
oceanworthy as well. She swims under the aircraft carrier museum and continues applying the handwavium. She evades the alarm wires, videocameras, and
extraneous security. Now she knows why the museum's personnel still have one of those metal time-stamps.

She finishes applying the handwavium. This should be the last bit. On the other side Artificer is applying the last part of the handwavium on the other side.
The two finally finish up and glide up out of the water in their flight suits.

Our Hero gestures to Artificer in sign language. Artificer shrugs and follows Our Hero. They get up to the control tower only to find that there is no control
for moving up. Artificer expresses dismay, with her hands.

There's a brilliant flash over Hero's head until Artificer realizes it's a metaphorical flash since Hero has dived under the water. Artificer
covers her eyes.

The aircraft carrier tilts under the water and then rises into the air, where Hero lifts the aircraft carrier. Artificer flies down to join Hero and pushes the
aircraft carrier into the air where amazingly, the aircraft carrier holds being bottom-only-handwaved.

This sets off lots of alarms. The dock falls apart. Artificer pulls out a camera and takes a picture.

"We have got to get a more secure method of communication. " Artificer tells Hero dryly.

Hero has noticed the SR-71 Blackbird on the top deck and is calculating rumors about how one was desired somewhere.

"Hey!"Artificer yells.

"Hero" jerks her head around.

"What do you plan to to do about those?" She points to the flock of jets on the radar screen.

"What about them?We've drifted over international airspace. " She tells Artificer.

"They're chasing us. " Artificer tells her dryly.

"They'll stop once they run out of air. I tossed the security guard overboard " Hero tells her. coconspirator.

"Did he survive?"

"Eh. " Hero shrugs "He was only a few feet above the docks. "

Artificer held up a hand to stop Hero.

"I can see this one already. If it's handwaved it flies. Pushing up a handwaved aircraft carrier will make a stalled one fly. Don't expect me to
get out and push. Here's your picture. "



The picture shows a person in white body armor and helmet holding up an aircraft carrier with one hand.

Having seen random Rikti bombings continue even after the Invasion weekend's worn off, and having missed my -last- attempt, I'm putting out a call for
one big ole' LGTF. More Rikti than you can shake a stick at, for levels 35 and up.

Great for meriting, if you dun wanna raid, and the XP ain't bad too. Plus, Hamidon!
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."

I'm going to add more to this as time goes on, probably.  Right now this is a headspace exploration, kinda, plus a bit of additional backstory for Scraps.