#Deep Thinker Badge

[summer-of-fandom]

[This is part of a server-specific event explained here, that I am inviting non-server people to partake in if they'd think it'd be fun!]

Meta in fandom is all about how we read/interpret what canon gives us

Each box is worth 1x pt

For a Try-It: Earn at least 3 points

For a Badge: Earn at least 10 points

Relationship Meta

Write a post about a platonic relationship in the show. It could be one about a friendship in the show, a parental bond, coworkers- whatever it might be. 

Write a meta post backing up your opinion on who fell first vs who fell harder.

Write a meta post about an aspect of a relationship that you think people have misunderstood. Like this one about Phayu singing to Rain in LITA. 

Show Meta

Write a post about something that hasn't happened yet in the show and how you hope that it's handled. Like this post about poly in Deep Night. 

Do a rewatch and blog about your thoughts on the episodes now that you're watching through a different lens Like this one about LITA.

Analyze a scene- for example, this post about why Big died and Vegas didn't in Kinn Porsche. 

Analyze clothing/makeup/hair style choices- and what they say about a character. Like this post about Penelope from Bridgerton. 

Write a post celebrating the ridiculousness of a show. 

Talk about the commentary you think a show is making with contrasting characters/pairings. Like this one talking about the three different generations of queerness in Moonlight Chicken. 

You are your problematic fav's defense attorney- whether it be a show, a couple, or a character. Defend them against the *absolutely* unfair blasphemy you've seen levied against them. Or maybe, declare that those things that others dislike? Actually- that's the best part. Maybe it's character growth and being handled well. 

Point out all your favorite things about a show! Talk about how they're handling a tough topic, or the directing choices. Make a post about the character growth and how other people should watch it because- wow, this thing is great. Like this one about Deep Night

Post BTS clips/highlight parts of interviews that you think really add something to how someone enjoys the show. 

Do a watsonian vs doylist look at why something happened in the show. Like what is going on in Wandee Goodday with the lights in Dee's room. The Doylist explanation of course is that the set designer thought they added something to the shot/that they echo the themes of the show- but what is the watsonian reason? Did Dee decorate his own room? Does the room just come like that? Why does this doctor have a sign above his bed about satisfaction- I need to know. 

Broader Trends

Write a meta post about how trends are changing- things that you've noticed from one show to the next, like this one here about university BLs. 

Have you noticed something showing up from one show to the next? Maybe it's a communal wardrobe piece or a filming location. Maybe a hair style? Make a post about it!

Compare different adaptions of a piece. Here's a video essay comparing different versions of A Star is Born. Or tumblr post showing how the anime vs the manga handled a scene in Dungeon Meshi. 

Expand Your Knowledge Base

Watch Behind the Scenes content to get further insight into what went into the making of the show/movie/etc.

Watch 'Reactors' reacting to the show, especially from the culture that the show is from- there are tons of inside-jokes/cultural nods that people miss. Like this Thai reaction channel reacting to LITA. 

Watch/Read interviews that the cast/crew have put out.

Do a deep dive on a cultural aspect of canon that has stuck out to you/is different from your own lived experiences. Whether it's researching how Thai universities work, different cultural holidays, or what intimacy looks like in different places.

Do a deep dive on a topic that shows up in canon- whether that's exploring architecture because of LITA or figuring out what being a cook is really like because of VIP Only. 

[sumire-no-nikki]

But Morning Came Anyway

I have a very distinct memory of November 2016.

In those days, I thought I was already such a grown up, but I was nothing more than a wide-eyed university student. I spent most of my waking hours on campus, doing nothing but school and research work. I listened to the news, watched the late night show hosts make their jokes. Debate nights were a whole affair, with food and drinks prepared—the only nights I ever paused my work. I was such a political junkie then, and proud to proclaim it. I was all too eager to engage in political conversations with other passionate students, and we wore our principles like a badge. Academia and politics—that was my way of living. Back then, I genuinely believed that we were on the brink of witnessing history. It was a thrill. Youth allowed me such bravery. I wore the “I’m With Her” shirts, I displayed the stickers on my laptop. With all my heart I wrote with such idealistic sentiments. We will overcome hate! Progress and Reason! I was still too young, too new to life. I thought I had already seen my fair share of cruelty. I look back now and think, what a foolish little girl.

On Election Night of 2016, I stayed up all night waiting for the results to roll in. I brought home some take away and set aside all school work. I wanted to be there when it happens, when history is made.

We all know how that night ended.

After the slow drip of announcements culminating in what I naively thought was impossible, I tried to put myself to sleep. But I was in such despair I didn’t know what to do with myself. In the end, I remember sending a voice memo to a friend. I mainly stuttered and sniffled, sobbing all the way through, somewhat manic. That night I felt like a dying star. One final burst before fading away in the coldness of deep space. I went to bed stripped of all optimism, my sense of justice shattered. Such fairy tale notions of youth that good will prevail and evil will be punished exposed as nothing but just that—a fairy tale. Welcome to adulthood. Welcome to the world. Something broke in me that day, something I’ll never recover.

But morning came anyway. I got two hours of sleep, somehow feeling more tired than I was before going to bed. I made my way to campus in a daze. I didn’t have my ears plugged with podcasts and music. I just listened to the train screeching, happy to have the noise mute my thoughts for a while. Crossing the street, I looked around me, surrounded by the usual crowd of busy pedestrians. I used to be able to keep up with them, subscribed to the grind, never stopping. But that morning it felt like I was being left behind, like I was fighting for every breath just trying to make it through every second that ticks away.

At my usual cafe, while waiting for my drink, I glanced at the rack of newspapers next to the counter. On the cover was Hillary Clinton, in front of a podium, wearing something purple. The headline was some witty quip about her concession. I surrendered to the stinging in my eyes. It was silly to cry in the middle of a cafe during the morning rush of all times, but I did. I cried in despair, in mortification not for crying in public but for who I am and the millions upon millions of people rejecting my very existence.

I remember thinking over and over, this can’t be. How is this possible. This is the land of progress, is it not? A country that has pushed science and technology into making unfathomable leaps, a nation of free-thinkers. This is the land of independence. How is this happening? This cannot be happening. I had all these questions and no one to answer them. All I could do was grab my order while I step into a world less vibrant than it was, upturned in chaos—a world not made for me to survive. I’ll never forget that feeling.

I had a language class first thing in the morning. In the classroom, as K-sensei set up her laptop and her powerpoint slides, I began conversing with my classmates, some in tears, some laughing through it, but all in despair over what had just happened. Concerned, K-sensei approached our little huddle. In Japanese I explained why we were in tears. It was almost too cruel. I moved to this country to pursue academia because where I’m from would have never permitted such a luxury. And I wanted to feel proud of myself for explaining politics in Japanese. There I was, living my very own American dream. But nightmares are dreams too.

In the next couple of days there were rallies, talks, sit-ins. I participated in some at the campus plaza with friends and encouraged by sympathetic professors. But it was never the same after that day. Oddly enough the weather was quite sunny in the days that followed the election, too hot for November in the bay. The white buildings, the pavement reflecting all that light, it was so bright I remember needing to squint. It didn’t feel real. In the news they still talked about it like there was something that could be done. It would take a couple of years before I could listen to politics again.

These are my memories of November 2016. I’m eight years older now, my life in a completely different trajectory than I could have ever imagined then. In some ways things got worse, but in a lot of ways it got a lot better too.

When Kamala Harris took on the Democratic ticket, people were abuzz with notions of making this the year we elect the first female president of the United States once and for all. It was salvation after the doom and gloom of being stuck with Joe Biden. It felt like a fighting chance. The whole song and dance was performed again. There’s no way a convicted felon would win! There’s so much at stake and we’ve learned from 2016! Kamala Harris will win! Such were the jubilant proclamations of the pundits and chronically online commentators. I wasn't devoid of hope, to be sure, but I faced this election with lessons learned. The day I cast my mail-in ballot for her, I cautioned myself: it gets worse before it gets better. And how it pains me to think back on that in hindsight. It is, in fact, about to get much worse.

That may seem negative, and I suppose it is in a fashion. But for all that I’ve experienced, all the trials I’ve been put through, it is this one adage that hasn’t failed me yet, hackneyed it may be. Because it’s not if it gets better. It is a question of when. Things will look up again. It will. It is as true as Winter thawing and Spring blooming after it. But it requires courage and hard work to get to the part when the sun shines again. So we all have to do what it takes to get there.

The election happened. Things will get worse from here. Trump will be back in office, both chambers red. But we will adapt. We build muscle. We hone our skills. There are hard truths to confront, mentalities to shift. It was a grim Tuesday. But morning came anyway. Here we are, the world a bleaker place than it was yesterday. But it will get better. It will. Time hasn't stopped. We will move forward.

Do not mistake this as optimism. What this entails is hard-earned perseverance and dogged determination. It might not be inspiring to be pragmatic but it is what gets one foot in front of the other when emotions are too heavy and threatening to drag your head underwater. I’ve written this rather messy stream of consciousness, hoping to cope, trying not to let the anger fester. I’m not sure what this accomplishes but this too is survival.

What has transpired in the past twenty-four hours is too fresh a wound, blood still flowing. So talk. Cry. Dress the wound. Let it scab. It will heal but it needs tending. Be kind--this too takes practice. Be kind to others, and most especially to yourself.

[gcthvile]

Agent Maya

Name: Maya Sullivan

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Date of Birth: June 12, 1991

Job: Agent at the TVA

Appearance: Maya has a strong and confident presence, standing at 5'8" with a toned physique. She has dark brown eyes that reflect her determination and a sharp mind. Her blond hair is usually tied back in a ponytail, with her only outfit being the TVA uniform, which consists of a black suit and a badge with the TVA logo.

Maya was taken from her own timeline by the TVA and had her memories erased. Prior to that, she had a successful career as a lawyer, fighting for justice in the courtroom. The TVA recognized her potential and recruited her as an agent. While working at the TVA, Maya discovered her talent for maintaining order within the timelines and quickly rose through the ranks.

Maya is highly intelligent, resourceful, and adaptable. She possesses a sharp wit and a no-nonsense attitude. Although she can come across as reserved and serious, she also has a dry sense of humor that surfaces from time to time. Maya is fiercely loyal to the TVA and is driven by a strong sense of justice. Her primary goal is to uphold the integrity of the TVA and protect the timeline from any threats.

Maya's background as a successful lawyer gives her exceptional analytical and problem-solving skills. She is also highly observant and possesses excellent attention to detail, making her a valuable asset in the field. Maya is a quick thinker and thrives under pressure. Her past life and the loss of her memories occasionally hinder her ability to connect with others on a personal level. She can be overly cautious at times, which may lead to hesitancy in making important decisions.

Maya's no-nonsense attitude and dedication to her work can make her appear aloof and distant. Her past life as a lawyer sometimes causes her to question authority, which can lead to clashes with her superiors. She can be overly cautious at times, which may hinder her ability to take risks when necessary. Additionally, her erased memories have left her emotionally vulnerable, making it difficult for her to trust others completely. She can be unwilling to compromise and may struggle with trusting others due to her erased memories.

Possesses a sharp intellect, allowing her to quickly understand complex concepts and unravel intricate timelines. Her exceptional investigative skills, allow her to uncover hidden information and connect the dots quickly. She is proficient in hand-to-hand combat and skilled in various weaponry, thanks to her training at the TVA. She is also a quick learner and adapts well to new situations. Her ability to remain calm under pressure allows her to make rational decisions even in the most chaotic circumstances. She also has a habit of tapping her fingers on surfaces when deep in thought. Also tends to organize her desk meticulously and keeps a small potted plant on it for a touch of nature.

Maya enjoys reading crime novels, especially those involving time travel or alternate realities and a good cup of black coffee to keep her sharp and focused.

Hope you guys like her!

@msrochelleromanofffelton @jackiequick @hanlueluver @blueboirick

[findfunnynames]

250+ Funny Electrician Nicknames (Unique, Clever & Trending)

Electricians light up our world, literally. They're not just "sparkies". They're wizards with wires. Have they ever heard of Current Magician? That's them. Or Volt Vanguard? Fits perfectly.  These nicknames aren't just tags. They're badges of honor. Each tells a story. It is a story of shocks, sparks, and smiles. Imagine Circuit Whisperer entering your home.  These names add humor to their high-voltage life. Let's explore these Funny Electrician Nicknames. Ready for a jolt of laughter?

Funny Electrician Nicknames

Here is a list of Funny Electrician Nicknames that will keep you entertained for a good time. 1. Circuit Whisperer Think of how a whisper can carry a powerful message. Your nickname could reflect your ability to solve complex electrical problems with intuition and finesse. It's about being the one who understands the silent language of circuits. 2. Volt Vanguard Are you always at the forefront of electrical innovation? This name suggests leadership and bravery in the face of electrical challenges. It's for those who protect and pioneer in the electrical field. 3. Watt Wizard Magic in every move. If you have a knack for effortlessly fixing electrical issues, consider yourself a wizard. It's about making the complicated look easy, turning electrical chaos into order. 4. Fuse Guru A guru is a master and teacher. This nickname suits someone with deep knowledge of electrical systems, especially when it comes to fuses. It's for the wise ones who prevent disasters before they happen. 5. Amp Alchemist Alchemists transform materials into gold. In an electrical context, this could mean turning simple materials into powerful solutions. It's for those who creatively solve problems, making the impossible possible. 6. Ohm Oracle Oracles predict the future. If you have a talent for foreseeing electrical issues before they arise, this nickname is for you. It's about using your knowledge to prevent problems and ensure safety. 7. Spark Sergeant Discipline and order are your realms. This nickname fits someone who ensures that every job is done correctly and safely. It's for the leaders who command respect and excellence in their work. 8. Current Conjurer Conjuring images of magic, this nickname is for those who can bring light to the darkest places with a simple gesture. It's about having the power to illuminate and energize with skill. 9. Wire Wrangler Just as a cowboy tames the wild, this nickname suits someone who can handle unruly wires with ease. It's for the skilled hands that make tangled messes into neat solutions. 10. Breaker Whisperer Some problems require a gentle touch. If you have the patience and skill to coax breakers back to life, this is your nickname. It's about understanding the delicate balance of power. 11. Lightning Librarian Organized and knowledgeable, this nickname is for those who keep track of every detail. Your 'library' is the vast knowledge you have of volts and amps, ready to be used at any moment. 12. Power Paladin Knights in shining armor, protecting against electrical dangers. If you see your work as a noble quest to keep people safe, embrace this title. It's for the honorable and brave. 13. Shock Scholar Always learning, always curious. This nickname fits someone who studies electrical systems deeply, always seeking to know more. It's for the lifelong learners of the electrical world. 14. Flux Philosopher For those who ponder the deeper meanings behind electrical flow and seek to understand the very essence of energy. It's a nickname for the thinkers, the ones who see beyond the wires. 15. Neon Ninja Moving silently, fixing problems with stealth and skill. If you're quick and efficient, leaving no trace except for the problem solved, this nickname is yours. It's for the agile and adept. 16. Cable Crusader On a mission to organize and conquer cable chaos. This nickname suits someone who tackles the toughest cable management challenges with zeal. It's for the determined and the brave. 17. Electron Enchanter Spinning spells over circuits, you enchant electrons to flow where you desire. This nickname is for the charmers, the ones who make electricity dance to their tune. 18. Wattage Warrior Battling against power outages and electrical failures, you emerge victorious. This nickname is for the resilient, those who never give up until the lights are back on. 19. Grid Gladiator In the arena of power grids, you stand undefeated. This nickname celebrates the strength and skill required to maintain and repair the vast networks that power our lives. 20. Joule Jester Bringing joy and light-heartedness to electrical work, makes even the toughest jobs feel lighter. This nickname is for those who find humor in their work, keeping spirits high.

Bad Electrician Nicknames

Choosing the right electrician name is crucial. It sets expectations. A bad name? It sparks doubt, maybe a chuckle. You want trust, not giggles when flipping the switch. Let's explore the world of what not to name your electrician business. Here's a list of creatively bad names, each a lesson in branding missteps. - Shock Shambles - Blackout Bandits - Fumble Wires - Oops Ohms - Zap Hazard - Short Circuit Sideshow - Burnt Bulb Brigade - Fizzled Fixers - Spark Scare - Jolt Jokers - Voltage Vagrants - Wire Wreckers - Flash Fiasco - Circuit Clowns - Power Outage Pranksters - Surge Stumblers - Flicker Flops - Zap Zeros - Gloom Glimmers - Faulty Flux - Dim Dudes - Glitch Gurus - Bungle Bulbs - Chaos Conductors - Mismatched Mains - Erratic Electrons - Tangle Technicians - Buzz Blunders - Outage Oafs - Sparkle Spoilers More Giggles: Funny Elf Names (250+ Unique Ideas)

Unique Electrician Nicknames

- Circuit Scribe - Bolt Baron - Neon Knight - Amp Architect - Surge Sorcerer - Dynamo Duke - Electro Sage - Watt Whisperer - Current Captain - Plasma Paladin - Grid Guardian - Voltage Virtuoso - Ohm Overlord - Power Prophet - Flux Forger - Wire Wizard - Charge Chieftain - Lightning Lorekeeper - Spark Sovereign - Conduit Conjurer - Electron Earl - Illumination Impresario - Tesla Tactician - Circuitry Czar - Powerline Prince - Amp Artisan - Volt Virtuoso - Ohm Oracle - Energy Enchanter - Spark Savant

Trending Electrician Nicknames

- Smart Spark - Eco Volt - Solar Sage - Pixel Plug - Cyber Circuit - Quantum Quirk - Nano Nerd - Grid Guru - Fusion Phantom - Byte Bolt - Digital Dynamo - Photon Phantom - Reactor Ranger - Virtual Volt - Amp Avatar - Circuit Cyborg - Power Pixel - Energy Echo - Tech Tesla - Wire Web - Cloud Conductor - Surge Stream - Electric Emoji - Watt Webber - Plasma Pilot - Flux Fluxer - Infinity Impulse - Neon Navigator - Omega Ohm - Zenith Zap

Clever Electrician Nicknames

- Spark Plug Sage - Bright Bulb - Genius Joules - Clever Conductor - Bright Idea - Wire Whisperer - Enlightened Electric - Circuit Savant - Bright Spark - Power Surge - Lightning Thinker - Voltage Virtuoso - Electric Enigma - Shock Genius - Current Genius - Flash Master - Bright Wire - Clever Current - Spark Savvy - Illuminator Innovator - Genius Grid - Lightbulb Luminary - Current Craftsman - Bright Beam - Power Brain - Shock Smart - Wire Wiz - Electric Epiphany - Clever Coil - Bright Circuit More Giggles: Funny Doctor Names (200+ Creative Ideas)

How to Create Your Electrician Nickname That Shocks and Awes

Ignite Your Imagination Ever wonder how "Sparky" became so popular? It's simple, memorable, and, well, sparky. Start with your specialty. Are you quick with fixes? "Flash Fixer" might just be your speed. Think about what makes you unique. Fuse Humor with Skill Why do we chuckle at "Circuit Whisperer"? It's the unexpected fusion of mystique and mastery. Combine your top skill with a pinch of humor. Imagine a nickname that makes clients smile while assuring them of your expertise. "Volt Vanguard" does just that, doesn't it? Electrify with Personality Your nickname should mirror your personality. Are you known for your calm demeanor amidst the chaos? "Current Calmer" could be a fit. This step is about reflecting your brand. Who are you in the electrical world? Let that guide your nickname choice. Short Circuits Work Best  Ever heard of "The High Voltage Virtuoso"? Probably too long to stick. "Volt Virtuoso" is catchier and easier to remember. Keep it short and zappy. The best nicknames are quick and pack a punch. Feedback Sparks Brilliance   Bounce your ideas on colleagues and friends. What do they think of "Amp Artist"? If they're not feeling the current, it might be time to switch gears. Feedback is invaluable in this creative process. Hopefully, you have enjoyed our post on Funny Electrician Nicknames but make sure you check out our main page findfunnynames for more hilarious content. Read the full article

[hillslicensing-blog]

Bold and Brave: The Impact of a Red Leather Biker Vest on Motorcycle Fashion

New Post has been published on https://ashipwreckinthesand.com/bold-and-brave-the-impact-of-a-red-leather-biker-vest-on-motorcycle-fashion/

Bold and Brave: The Impact of a Red Leather Biker Vest on Motorcycle Fashion

Making a Statement: Red Leather Biker Vest Power

Fashion fads come and go, but some objects stand out for their style, personality, and rejection of the banal. The red leather biker vest stands out as a unique piece of clothing that expresses the wearer’s personality and defies fashion rules. This unique clothing exudes revolt, independence, and a boundless energy that has charmed fashionistas and free-thinkers alike.

Initially designed for motorcyclists, leather vests have become symbols of a lifestyle and a badge of honor in fashion and culture. When dyed a furious red, it becomes even more brilliant, distinguishing its wearer physically and spiritually. Red, associated with passion, strength, and danger, makes the vest a statement of the wearer’s assertiveness and refusal to blend in.

The red leather biker vest’s appeal comes from craftsmanship. Genuine leather’s rich texture and complex variances give artisans a unique canvas. The maker’s marks and the material’s attractiveness make each vest distinct. Leather’s patina enhances Each vest’s story, representing its owner’s journeys. Leather’s ever-changing nature makes each vest a personal record of life’s many journeys.

Styling a red leather biker vest takes boldness and flare. It is not for the faint-hearted or hesitant. It often combines contrasting materials and colors to brighten and distinguish its hue. Denim provides a classic, gritty contrast to the leather’s sleekness, while black, whether in skinny jeans, leggings, or another leather piece, enhances the red’s drama. Accessories are essential, too. Silver chains, bandanas, and vintage pins personalize the outfit and tell the wearer’s narrative.

Beyond design, the red leather biker vest evokes subcultures and movements. Rock artists, punks, and rebels have worn the vest, modifying it to their style and spirit. In genres that value individuality and disobedience, the vest acts uniformly, connecting artists and followers in their pursuit of originality and self-expression.

In film and literature, the red leather biker vest has often symbolized a character’s attributes and ambitions. From the lone hero exploring a post-apocalyptic world to the rebellious teenager defying society, the vest conveys depth and complexity without words. It’s capacity to say so much with so little shows the vest’s cultural ubiquity.

A red leather biker vest is a sign of rebellion, a determination to stand out rather than blend in. The wearer and the world are challenged to accept and appreciate individuality. A beacon of diversity in a culture that values conformity and uniformity, the vest honors those who live on their terms and express their originality in full color.

However, the red leather biker vest has paradoxes. It transitions from biker gear to fashion statement, belonging to neither but claiming both. This duality practical and aesthetic, daily and extraordinary gives the vest lasting appeal. It connects cultures and subcultures as a historical artifact and modern emblem.

In conclusion, the red leather biker vest is still a fashion and cultural icon. Due to its bold color, deep history, and nerve, it’s more than just apparel. This statement, position, piece of art, and symbol of individuality and independence are worn. The red leather biker vest remains classic and relevant as fashion evolves.

Red Leather Biker Vest Maintenance Tips

A red leather biker vest is about attitude, lifestyle, and heritage. This famous garment’s brilliant color and tough texture require attention and care to maintain its appearance and character. Unlike other clothes, a leather vest is an investment and a lifelong partner. Thus, knowing how to care for it will ensure it ages beautifully and remains a wardrobe staple for years.

Understand the material before caring for your red leather biker vest. Like genuine skin, leather needs moisture to stay supple and avoid cracking. Conditioning helps here. Using a good leather conditioner for your vest’s leather is essential. Apply conditioner softly with a gentle cloth in circular motions to ensure uniform absorption. This treatment, recommended every few months, keeps leather supple and preserves its brilliant red.

Clean the vest first before conditioning. Dust, filth, and body oils can eventually damage the leather and distract from its beauty. Use a light leather cleaner to avoid strong chemicals and alcohol that can strip the leather of its natural oils. The material should be gently wiped clean without soaking. Keeping the vest clean and intact is tricky.

Water ruins leather, including your red leather biker vest. Water is unavoidable, so it’s crucial to limit exposure. If your vest becomes wet, drying is vital. Lay the vest flat at room temperature, away from radiators and sunlight, which can warp or fade leather. After drying, reapply the conditioner to restore moisture.

Storage is another essential part of vest longevity and attractiveness. To avoid creases, hang the vest on a wide, padded hanger when not in use. Leather is susceptible to mold and mildew, but a breathable garment bag can keep it dust-free. Keep the vest out of plastic bags and direct sunshine to avoid discoloration and damage.

A motorcycle vest is used regularly; therefore, wear and tear is unavoidable. Checking for tears or loose threads helps prevent minor concerns from becoming severe. Professional leather repair can fix these issues and restore your vest. These flaws must be addressed immediately to avoid damaging the vest’s beauty and structure permanently.

Maintaining your red leather biker vest involves physical and emotional care. It represents your personality, travels, and adventures. Customizations like patches, buttons, and embroidery can add personality but should be done carefully. To avoid leather damage, make sure accessories are appropriate and firmly attached. These ornaments tell your story, making the vest a personal heirloom rather than merely clothes.

Protecting your vest also requires weather adaptation. In hotter climates, sweat can penetrate leather, changing its texture and color. A lightweight, breathable undershirt helps shield leather from body oils and moisture. Colder temperatures can make leather brittle and stiff. Layers under the vest might insulate the leather from freezing and reduce flexibility.

Accidents like spills or stains might damage your vest. Immediately wipe spills with a dry, soft cloth to avoid leather staining. To prevent further damage, apply a professional leather stain remover per the manufacturer’s instructions for harsher stains.

Every year, your red leather biker vest relationship changes. It matures like excellent wine, but only if treated with respect. It’s more than clothing it’s a reflection of your personality and a life companion. With proper care and upkeep, your red leather biker vest will forever represent your individual style; the road traveled, and the experiences yet to come.

[tomorrowusa]

Gideon Rachman is chief foreign affairs columnist for the Financial Times and the 2016 winner of the Orwell Prize for Journalism. Even when I don't entirely agree with him I find his writing insightful.

In this column (archived) he compares France's 7.5 year colonial war in Algeria with Russia's neocolonial invasion of Ukraine.

Some excerpts...

France cannot be France without greatness,” wrote Charles de Gaulle in the opening of his memoirs. His nation, he insisted, must always be in “the first rank”. Vladimir Putin feels the same way about Russia. Back when I was still able to visit that country, Fyodor Lukyanov — a foreign policy thinker close to Putin — told me that the Russian president was driven by the fear that his nation might permanently lose its status as a great power. That fear and paranoia reached its tragic apogee with the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022. But instead of restoring Russian national grandeur, Putin’s war has disgraced and isolated his nation. Unlike Putin, de Gaulle’s belief in national greatness did not depend on the subordination of a neighbour. He ended France’s war in Algeria and accepted Algerian independence in 1962. By contrast, even after 30 years of Ukrainian independence, Putin could not accept Ukraine’s right to shape its own destiny.

Nobody would accuse the late President Charles de Gaulle of being soft on French patriotism; he had been the leader of the Free French forces during World War II. But de Gaulle had the sense to see that France was in a no-win situation in Algeria and this was leading to deep divisions in France itself. There was even a failed insurrection against de Gaulle by some French generals after he had entered into negotiations with the Algerian independence movement.

Algeria became independent in 1962 despite bitter opposition by some in France. Resistance was punctuated by acts of terrorism perpetrated by ethnic French former residents of Algeria. But de Gaulle knew that no matter how much disorder would ensue, saying good-bye to Algeria was the best option in the long run for France.

Where de Gualle decided to look to the future, Putin gradually sinks in the quicksand of the past. De Gaulle said adieu to colonialism but Putin refuses to say до свидания to neocolonialism.

As Gideon Rachman says in his FT piece...

Freed of its colonial burden in Algeria, France was able to forge a new future. Modern France is not a superpower, but it remains a leader in Europe. It is a global player in culture, diplomacy, business, sport and military affairs. France retains some of the badges of great-power status, such as nuclear weapons and a permanent seat on the UN security council. But its grandeur today rests on culture and the global respect it inspires, rather than on raw power or territory. Putin, by contrast, was unable to imagine Russia as a post-imperial power. He still defines Russian greatness through his country’s ability to control territory and inspire fear. It was de Gaulle who was born in the 19th century, but it is Putin who clings to a 19th-century imperialistic view of national grandeur. In the 21st century, however, the bloodbath that Putin has unleashed in Ukraine has inspired disgust rather than admiration in the rest of Europe, isolating Russia from its neighbours and reducing its influence in the wider world. [ ... ] Putin has been unable to separate his vision of national grandeur from his personal power and wealth. He clings on in the Kremlin. Those who disagree with his policies are beaten up in the streets, imprisoned, driven into exile or die in suspicious circumstances. Russia needed its own de Gaulle. Instead, it has ended up with a pale imitation of Ivan the Terrible.

Perhaps a Russian version of de Gaulle would be good, but a Russian version of Atatürk would be better. Somebody needs to drag Russia, screaming and kicking, from the 18th century into the 21st century.

[isabella-111]

<3

my pronounce are she/her and I’m bi. I’m 5’4 with medium length dark blonde hair that’s always pretty much untameable. I’m and Aquarius. I’m really into astrology and that sort of things. I make taylor swift my whole personality tbh. I collect crystals and always carry at least one with me. addicted to black eyeliner. I consider myself to be and extrovert but my social battery runs out really fast. really obsessed with fashion and makeup. my clothing style is pretty much whatever I feel like wearing. I’m really loud and outgoing, but deep down I’m really anxious and insecure. I’m a professional over thinker. sleeping is my hobby. I love books but I’m a very slow reader. I adore watching movies and writing reviews. art is what keeps me going. I suck at any type of sports. I love food, cooking and baking is my love language. I’m a great example of what listening to Lana Del Rey at 12 can do to a person. oh and I love matcha. 

If you’d pair me with a marauders era character I would be on cloud nine :)) 

congrats btw <3

A/N: you give off such iconic vibes very much lana del rey also literally same started listening to Lana perhaps a little too young now 5 years later mentally ill but living 😩 anyways i hope you like it <333

I ship you with remus lupin

- you and remus met at a crystal shop that sirius dragged him too ( remus loves crystals but will never admit it , he wont deny it either but he’ll never say it out loud for some reason)

- you guys were standing next to each other looking at the rose quartz and citrine that were next to each other . Thats when love story starts playing and you were internally fangirling. Little did you know so was remus well you were about to find out

Remus : oh i love this song * remus mutters almost talking to him self *

You : samee i love Taylor

Remus : * smiles at you * so do i

You and remus talk for about 30 minutes before he has to go but before he leaves he writes his number on the receipt( which not to get ahead of my self is framed in your guys future apartment along with the ticket stubs from the time you guys went to taylor swift concert )

-staying up late talking about astrology then moving on to the most bizarre topics >>>

- its quite funny actually cause remus is a introvert with a long social battery and your a extrovert with a short social battery....i guess opposites do attract

- late night baking with remus is a go to

Probably will end up in a flour fight and a few stolen kissed but it’s definitely fun and you guys love it

I ship you with Spencer

- you and spencer met at a book store

- you were sitting there for a little too long and he just walked up to you and asked “ are you alright”

You had to explain to him that your just a a slow reader and not like having a crisis (even tho a constant crisis is always a mood )

Spencer: oh sorry about that then

You : no no its no problem I appreciate you coming over to check on me

Spencer : * smiles * hey um ik i like came here and bugged you but would you maybe wanna go get coffee or something

You : make it matcha dr reid and you’ve got your self a deal

Spencer: *confused * wait how did you kn-

You : you have your badge on your bag * you smirk *

Spencer: *looks down at his bag * oh

You : * standing up from your seat * ready to go dr reid

Spencer: id love to but can i get your name first

You : its y/n

Spencer: thats lovely

- you guys drank your tea and had a conversation about your favorite art pieces ( foreshadowing for your second date which was a museum

- dropping off cookies and brownies to the bau team when they’re in the office is the best

- watching movies with Spencer but the end is just you guys critiquing them >>>>

- professional overthinker meet Spencer also a professional over thinker . (Communication is key with you guys but it’s definitely something thats easy to talk about since you both understand the feeling if being overwhelmed and racing thoughts

- no matter how bad you feel that day Spencer is always there to remind you how beautiful, gorgeous, hot and amazing you are

[hedgiwithapen]

How about the Leverage Crew arriving in Central City in time for the that time Barry got accused of murdering DeVoe. Basically, Leverage Crew (Classic or Redeption is your choice) meddling in that plan. Because screw DeVoe. Can be in the same universe as The Central City job, or a brand new AU; your choice.

this one Long The courthouse was packed when a sleek black van pulled up to a loading zone. Nathan Ford turned from the passenger seat. “You all know the play?” “Mm, yup,” Parker said, clipping a badge to her blazer pocket. “The Boston skip.” “It’s not the Boston Skip,” Hardison snapped, fussing with his tie.. “You’re just grumpy because you have to play the lawyer again.” Eliot smirked. “Hey, you said only if it comes to a cross examine, I did my job, if you all do your jobs right and it doesn’t come to that,” Hardison’s voice pitched upwards. “If?” Sophie put on the emergency break. “If? Hardison, I’m hurt.” “Soph,” Nate sighed. “Let it go.” “For now. We’re having words later,” Sophie insisted. “Can we just get this over with?” Eliot asked, maneuvering to take the driver’s seat. “ you know I don’t like us splitting up like this.” “It’ll only be for a bit,” Parker said, squeezing his hand. “ We’ll be fine.” They left the van in twos, first Parker and hardison, briefcase and extraneous computer in hand, and a minute or two later Sophie and Nate followed-- and Nate with a plain folder tucked under his arm. Eliot drove in the direction of the police station, ready for the next phase of the plan. They hadn’t exactly called ahead, but that wasn’t going to be much of a problem. Cisco Ramon was the first to spot them. He goggled a bit. “What are you doing here?” he asked as Hardison approached the bench where Team Flash had congregated. Hardison smiled, knowing the prosecutor was watching. “I came to offer my services,” he said, sending a quick text with a thought. “ Where is Ms Horton?” “Here,” the short woman said, her eyes cutting between the two as Cisco checked his phone. “ Who are you? Cisco, who is--” Cisco looked up from the message--you didn’t see us coming?-- and relaxed slightly for the first time in weeks. “I’m part of Mr. Allen’s legal team,” Hardison smiled wide. “He’s ok, Cecile,” Cisco vouched. “ He and his, uh, coworkers have helped us in the past. With Z--wait, that was before you. Um.” “My firm helped get Henry Allen some money, after that unfortunate mess. And we’re here to see justice through again.” He hesitated. “ Or pick up where it leaves off,” he said under his breath. Cecile took in a sharp breath. “When did we hire you?” “Uh--” “Cecile, it’s really ok,” Caitlin joined the cluster. “They know about STAR. And apparently about the recent… developments.” “You think we don’t keep tabs on your crazy city? Now, Ms. Horton, as your co-lawyer, we need to discuss strategy. I’ve got some character witnesses I’d like to introduce, some crucial evidence that needs to be submitted, is there an office we might use?” He steered her away, nodding to Parker, deep in conversation with the prosecutor.

“You let that jerk stick around?” Iris jumped when she heard the voice in her ear. Turning she sighed with recognition. “ Lilli--Sophie?” “In the flesh.” She smiled. “I can’t stay long, but Eliot wanted me to ask.” Iris sighed. “If it’s Eliot asking, I guess you mean Harry. He’s been a lot better since Eliot kicked his ass, that’s for sure. And he has been helpful.” “I’m sure,” Sophie sounded anything but sure. “Listen, we’ve got this pretty well handled, but you and your friends may wish to be ready in case of reprisals. Have you upgraded security lately?” “Cisco’s worked on it,” Iris confirmed. “Good. Hardison would love to take a look, later. We’re probably going to be in the area, we’ve had word something’s fishy at that prison of yours.” When Iris opened her mouth Sophie shook her head. “Iron Heights. Point is, we’ll be around should you need anything.” “Thank you for the offer,” Iris said. She shook her head. “ These people are smart, Sophie. Dangerous.” “Not compared to my team,” Sophie smiled. “Save your worry. Look, see? Hardison’s in place, and Parker’s in the wings. I’ve got to go take care of my part. If you see your husband, let him know, will you?” “I-- sure,” Iris said, and she watched as Sophie stood and walked into a crowd. An entirely different person made her way past a bailiff and into the Juror’s box, leaning over to the man beside her and nodding in the direction of the door Barry Allen had just been escorted through. As Iris stood to take his hand across the gap between his seat and the benches, Sophie gave a little nod to the two of them. “It is strange,” the man said. “But I don’t think we’re meant to discuss the case until we’re in the back.” “Of course not,” Sophie said. “I was just thinking about it, is all. If it were a scene in a mystery novel, I’d call it too obvious.” “You do have a point,” the man agreed. “I’m actually a novelist myself.” “You don’t say,” Sophie smiled. “Classic red herring, am I right? And what a story. Two men in the same family accused of nearly identical murders…” She tapped her com, giving a quick signal. Nate was up. “Ah, a quick word?” Nate stepped away from the wall, flagging down Mrs. DeVoe and her companion. “No,” she snapped, putting on what Nate could see was a reasonably convincing mask of Grieving Widow. Convincing to a mark, maybe. But the Mako was right--you can’t con a conman. “Vultures, all of you.” “Oh, I’m not a reporter.” Nate said easily. He nodded to the tall man at Marlize’s Elbow. “Mr. DeVoe, I’m sure you’ll want to hear what I have to say.” He was pleased to see shock cross the face of Dominic Lanse. The man grabbed him by the arm, yanking him into an empty room. Mrs. DeVoe followed, locking it behind her. “Just so you are aware, there is video footage of you dragging me in here,” Nate said in his most helpful voice. “In case you decide to kill me here, probably not your smartest move.” he glanced around. “Private, though. Good.” He gave his signature infuriating grin. “Make this quick,” Clifford said in Dominic’s voice. “Court begins soon.” “Right, well, that’s going to be your problem.” Nate shrugged. “ Let’s skip the pleasantries. I know everything, about your plan at least. Your computer banks! Normal people couldn’t even find them, so you’ve got that going for you, though the security is lacking once you get past that, so B+. I am not Normal People. I have the best hacker in the multiverse, though, so,” he clicked his tongue in mock dismay, “like I said, my team and I --I’m sure you’re trying to think of who we are right now--know everything.” Marlize glanced at her silent watch, frowning. “Oh, no, no, I’m not a meta.” Nate shook his head. “But the thing is, I don’t have to be to destroy you.” “What--” “Again. I know everything, Thinker. Your basement prison, your hidden files, what you want with that satellite… you really shouldn’t have written everything down… twice even.” He fished a small book out of his pocket, and let them see the plain cover. Clifford’s eyes darkened. “That’s mine.” “Yeah, well, I also have the

multiverse’s greatest thief.” “Our home is under police protection and surveillance. There are officers--” “There right now, I’m aware.” Eliot Spencer, clutching a cup of coffee in one hand, flashed a badge at the pair of officers standing by a door. “Any trouble?” “Nope. She just left for the courthouse. Some work, huh? Just standing here.” “Hmm.“ Eliot agreed. “Though I guess if something did happen, the Flash would swoop in.” “Nine times out of ten,” the first officer agreed. “Or one of his buddies. “ “Maybe 8 times,” the second officer shrugged. “ You new?” “Just transferred from Keystone.” Eliot said. “Not so much nonsense there.” “I hear that. Good to have the backup though.” Eliot nodded. “ You do a walk through?” “Uh, no…. Like I said, no trouble, officer-- “Ted Crichton,” Eliot interrupted. “You haven’t walked through? What if someone’s in there, waiting to assault Mrs. DeVoe when she gets back?” “Well, uh, we don’t have a warrant--” “For crying out loud--” Eliot pulled a paper from his pocket. “See? Now let's go. You stay out here. Who has the back-- does no one have the back door? “ The officers hurried inside. “Don’t forget to check the closets,” Eliot called. -- “ Like I said. Best thief. Best hacker. Now, honestly--and you can run the numbers-- your best bet would be to cut your losses right here, right now. You’re already lying on the stand, so say you were coerced into implicating Mr. Allen--if you need someone to blame I do have a list of patsys that really need the jail time. You do that, put your little plan,” he waggled the book “ back in the box or write it up as the next dystopian best seller for High School English classes to dissect for decades to come, and you can walk away from this.” A laugh. “No one will believe anything you say. That book can’t be traced to me, and even if it could be, it doesn’t prove anything. So someone thinks I’m a supervillain. I’m dead. You have nothing that proves Mr. Allen innocent. You’re out of your mind, Mr. Ford.” “Oh good, you know who I am. Think a little harder.” “As threats go, it’s half baked,” Marlize challenged. “What are you going to do if we refuse? Break Allen out of jail so he can be a fugitive? He’d never go along with it. And the Flash can’t stop us.” “I’d run those numbers again, you’ve left out quite a few variables. But no.” “No?” “If you refuse, if you keep up your little game, lie on the stand, sell that sob story, maybe you're right and the Flash can’t stop you. But he doesn’t need to. I’ll destroy you.” “You.” It was not a question. “For someone claiming to be the smartest man in the world, I’m a bit worried about your memory. I said it already--I’m not here alone. But be my guest. Tell your lies. Right about now the Jury is thinking about what an embarrassment to the city Henry Allen’s trial was and how closely this resembles it… the similarities, the way the timelines don’t quite match up… “ “Really? You’re trying to convince the jury to ignore evidence and go with their hearts? A pathos appeal? That’s not going to work. There’s less than a 3% chance of that even ending in a mistrial, much less acquittal.” “I’m sure that’s what your numbers said,” Nate smiled yet again, this time sharklike. “Cute. I bet you think it’s difficult to get assigned jury duty. “ “It-- we checked all the names. We know--” “You know who they are, yes, yes. But you don’t know who we are. Another sloppy mistake. Now, the jury’s, you're right, not a total slam dunk. So, right now the prosecutor is getting word of some new evidence from a very well respected FBI agent about how helpful the Flash and Mr Allen have both been in assisting with a case against a known human trafficker--you know her, Ammunet Black. The one you bought your puppet from. FBI picked her up…mmm, ten minutes ago? And she had some very interesting things to say. You can guess what they were. Add to that the evidence--” “What evidence?” “The wire transfers between you and Ms. Black. In December and a few days ago. We didn’t even have to fake that first one, but even if the second

one looks a little fishy, the fact that--” “Nate, we got him,” crackled Eliot’s voice in his ear. “--the police just found a metahuman locked in your hall closet--Weeper, I think is what Ms. Black called him-- should make things clear. He wasn’t thrilled about having to stick around much longer but your basement is pretty hard for normal people to find so we had to nudge that a bit. But hey, you’re all for planting evidence. Anyways, court’s in ten minutes…. but the police will be arresting you in about three, if my math’s right-- care to check?-- so I can make this very quick. We have video of you threatening the Flash, holding him prisoner the same night as that wire transfer, proof of Dominic’s powers and sale--my hacker thanks you for all those cameras and bugs, by the way, made his job much easier-- and you add that all up and it sure looks like you got upset at the Flash and Allen for poking into your meta trafficking and decided a frame up was in order.” Nate hefted the folder, “and then there’s this.” “And what,” Marlize asked, shaking with rage, “ is that?” “A copy of files that will be delivered to the FBI, NSA and Dean of Husdson University if you don’t admit to the frame up.” Nate said, thumbing through them. “Proof that you, Mrs. DeVoe, fed information to certain entities across Africa and the Middle East where you were doing your research and aid work to assist in their terror attacks and human trafficking--ties in quite nicely to your work with Ammunet, if I do say so myself. And proof that the “late” Mr. DeVoe plagiarized his thesis, his dissertation, even the syllabi for his classes.” “Lies. No one will believe any of--” “Oh, it’s all very well forged. Except for the bit about the Syllabi. For shame.” Nate tutted. “And part of the dissertation. Can they take away a PH.d posthumously? Anyways, even if it wasn’t, do you really think that no one would believe a man who thinks that giving everyone on the planet late stage Alzheimer’s is going to solve famine and illness? What kind of legitimate history teacher doesn’t know about cholera or the effects of the agricultural revolution? Every lie has a kernel of truth to it.” Nate glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, that certainly was enlightening. And before you decide to simply kill me, run your little calculations with one more variable: Eliot Spencer.” DeVoe’s brow furrowed and what little color he had drained from his face. “ That’s what I thought. Three.. Two.. one.” Nate raised his voice. “ Help! I’m in here!” The door crashed from its hinges. “The Gloat is the best part,” Parker, FBI badge swinging, put an arm over Barry’s shoulders. He stood with Iris next to her and Eliot as the DeVoes were hauled away. “You know, I think I might have to agree,” Iris said, squeezing Barry’s hand. “Or second best, at least,” she added meaningfully. “So… what now?” Joe asked. “I mean, there’s still… the red tape, but… do we need to be worried? Don’t they still have--” “Oh, that sick chair and computer set up?” Hardison asked with a smirk. “I want it.” Harry announced. “When did you get here?” Hardison asked, affronted. -- Parker held up her badge as she pushed the crate up a ramp into Lucille. “Special Agent Hagen! Let me help you with that,” Agent McSweeten said, taking the dolley handle from her. Parker beamed, patting the side, careful not to dislodge the panel on the side. “Thanks!” -- “Anyways, you can’t just call dibs. You’re too late,” Hardison added, giving Parker a fistbump. “We stole it.”

[bubblestheraccoon]

Music Mixes

Lumberjanes “Arts and Crafts” Program Field

Treble Maker Badge

“Some Risks are worth the Reward”

Music fuels the mind and thus fuels creativity. A creative mind has the ability to make discoveries and create innovations. The greatest minds and thinkers like Hildegard von Bingen, Barbra Strozzi, and Florence Mary Taylor all had something in common in that they were constantly exploring their imagination and creativity. As a Lumberjane it will be vital that we not only enrich our minds, but enrich those around us. Music is just one of the many mediums that can create an empowering environment, it is one of the few mediums that can be enjoyed at any time.

Finch’s Notes:

This post is based on a section from the bonus content from Lumberjanes: To The Max Edition Volume One. I did not create these playlist, their titles, or the blurb at the top of the post. If any of the links are wrong or broken, or if I should add any more disclaimers for song content, please feel free to let me know!

*D-Slur Warning.

**Only version of the cover I could find on youtube, here’s a version of song without the extra audio but it’s on a Russian website that overwrote my adblocker a little bit so visit it at your own risk. Here’s the song it was covering if you want that instead.

***Could not find cover on youtube. Link instead goes to band camp.

****F-Slur Warning.

Fox Fight Jams! By April!

Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks

Bad Reputation by Joan Jett

Run the World (Girls) by Beyonce

Northshore be Tegan & Sara

Woo Hoo by The 5 6 7 8s

Wilderness by Sleater-Kinney

Wolf by Now, Now

Spin Around by Josie and the Pussycats

Buffy the Vampire Slayer Theme

Jet Pack by Dog Party

Pirates by Jenny Owen Youngs

Dance Apocalyptic by Janelle Monae

Bamboo Bones by Against Me!

Push It by Salt-n-Pepa

I Knew You Were Trouble by Taylor Swift

Up All Night by One Direction

Roar by Katy Perry

Eye Of The Tiger by Survivor

Say You'll Be There by the Spice Girls

Ribs by Lorde

Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks (”Best Song Ever”-April)

River Adventure Mix of dooooom by Mal

I Was An Island by Allison Weiss

Shark In The Water by V.V. Brown

Let's Submerge by X-Ray Spex

Eyes Open by The Gossip

Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill*

Giant Kitty by Shonen Knife

I Won't Follow by the Secret Someones

4Ever by The Veronicas

Sk8er Boi by Avril Lavigne

Take Me Away by Fefe Dobson

Borne On The FM Waves by Against Me! & Tegan Quinn

Ain't It Fun by Paramore

3 Small Words by Josie and the Pussycats

Anchor by Letters To Cleo

That's Not My Name by The Ting Tings

Independent Woman Part 1 by Destiny's Child

Crush by the Sleigh Bells

Oh! by Sleater-Kinney

Tropical by Plumtree

Rhiannon by Best Coast or Fleetwood Mac 

The Con by Tegan & Sara

The Competition by Kimya Dawson

Cave Tunes by Molly

I Have Confidence by Julie Andrews

Ain’t No Mountain High Enough by Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell

Tightrope by Janelle Monae feat Big Boi

Just A Dream by Taylor Swift

Heartbreak Dream by Betty Who

Corner of the Sky by the Jackson 5

Valerie by Amy Winehouse

I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston

Call Your Girlfriend by Robyn

Let It Go by Idina Menzel

Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations

Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash

Jolene by Dolly Parton

Rock ‘n Roll High School by Shonen Knife

Don’t Save Me by HAIM

The Cave by Dia Frampton**

She Keeps Me Warm by Mary Lambert

This Is For by Ingrid Michaelson

Cut It Off by Mal Blum

Smash Into You by Beyonce

Jen’s Perfect Camp Mix by Ripley

Gravity Falls Theme Song

Summertime by Audra McDonald

Strong Enough by Kina Grannis

(You’re So Square) Baby, I Don’t Care by Cee Lo Green

Waterfalls - TLC

Just A Girl by No Doubt

Nobody Knows Me At All by The Weepies

I’m Beginning To See The Light by Ella Fitzgerald

Bad Girls by M.I.A.

Spice Up Your Life by the Spice Girls

Magic To Do by Patina Miller & Ensemble

***Flawless by Beyonce

Come On by Josie And The Pussycats

Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey

Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles

Jo’s really rad! Mix by Jo

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Theme

Androgynous(Live) by Joan Jett and Against Me!

Tous Les Memes by Stromae

Sunshine by Rye Rye feat M.I.A.

L.E.S. Artistes by Santigold

What About Your Friends by TLC

Just One Of The Guys by Jenny Lewis

Melody by Kate Earl

Red Cape by Priscilla Ahn

No Wow by The Kills

I Found You by Tilly and the Wall

Do You Remember the Morning by Kid in the Attic***

Cheerleader by St. Vincent

Concrete Wall by Zee Avi

You Can Count On Me by Panda Bear

Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac (”<3″-Jo)

Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds

Ziggy Stardust by David Bowie

Oblivion by Grimes

Q.U.E.E.N. by Janelle Monae and Eryka Badu

Rapid Decompression by Against Me!

Roanokes Rule: The Mix[!][!][!] by April

Rattlesnake by Saint Vincent

Transgender Dysphoria Blues by Against Me!****

Amazon by M.I.A.

Another One Bites The Dust by Queen

Art-I-Ficial by X-Ray Spex

Separate Rooms by Now, Now

What’s Mine Is Yours by Sleater-Kinney

Sci-Fi Wasabi by Cibo Matto

Tennis Court by Lorde

Son Of A Preacher Man by Dusty Springfield

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac

Desire Lines by Deerhunter

Hot and Cold by Ex Hex

White Daisy Passing by Rocky Votolato

Misguided Ghosts by Paramore

For The Best by Gregory and the Hawk

The Hymn Of Acxiom by Vienna Teng

Capture The Flag by Broken Social Scene

From A Shell by Lisa Germano

Rosie’s Turn

Feeling Good by Nina Simone

Annabelle Lee by Sarah Jarosz

Terrible Things by April Smith & The Great Picture Show

You Can’t Be Told by Valerie June

Wild Geese Blues by Gladys Bentley

The Day Is Short by Jearlyn Steele

One Dime Blues by Etta Baker

Hard Way Home by Brandi Carlile

The Devil’s Paintbrush Road by The Wailin’ Jennys

To The Bone by Okou

Panic Cord by Gabrielle Aplin

Cups (You’re Gonna Miss Me) by Lulu and the Lampshades

Crayola Doesn’t Make A Color For Your Eyes by Kristin Andreassen

Complimentary Me by Elizabeth & The Catapult

Blue Spotted Tail by Kina Grannis

Sorry About The Doom by Slow Club

You Know I’m No Good by Amy Winehouse

From Texas: Big “D” by Julie Andrews & Carol Burnett

Finch’s Notes Cont:

Hi! I made this post to avoid work. But mostly I made this post because Lumberjanes is something really important to me, and these playlist are a part of my enjoyment of Lumberjanes I don’t see people talking about a lot! So I decided to make a post in order to share them with y’all. I remember hunching over my phone making a spotify playlist (here, though it’s missing a few songs that aren’t on spotify) while on a trip to California in the summer of 2018 when I first got into Lumberjanes. I probably listened to these songs while I made my first ever Lumberjanes fanart. These mixes helped me to discover artist I really love, like Janelle Monae and Mal Blum. I hope you enjoy them as well!

Other notes: Sk8r Boi is crossed out as that is the way it appears on Mal’s playlist. Also, I tend to shy away from music videos as a personal preference, so that’s why there are so few included on this playlist, though I’m sure many of these songs have beautiful music videos. I might reblog this post in the future with some youtube playlists of these mixes, but if you want to find them yourself there are a lot of playlists of these songs made on youtube already! Or you can make your own playlists using this post. 

And, just for fun, have one final Lumberjanes themed music recommendation:

Lumberjanes by Various

[summer-of-fandom]

What is this?

The Phayu/Rain 18+ server is doing a Summer of Fandom ... summer event... while I have no interest in moderating an event for tumblr, I did want to throw the resources out there for anyone who would like to earn badges of their own/wants to run it for their servers as well.

The way that we're doing it, as a couple-specific server, is that phayu/rain related things get double points. While I often short hand to 'show' in the wording- books/videogames/etc all are welcome to be used. Wherever there is fandom. I tried my best to make at the very least earning a try-it possible for everyone! With this event I wanted to celebrate/highlight all the wonderful ways that people participate in fandom. The truth is there could have been endless more badges- badges for small fandoms, badges for being fans of specific shows, badges for translators and watch party leaders and honestly- the list could go on and on. I encourage people to make their own badges as well! In fact, I will leave the inbox open here if people would like to share badges that they've made with other people.

Here are the links to the google docs- they're read only, but you are welcome to make your own copies so that you can check off your progress. You can also find all the requirements/different badges on this tumblr as tumblr posts Off-Screen Shenanigans Badge

Source-Material-Magician Badge

Deep Thinker Badge

Writer Badge

Playing Well With Others Badge

Artist Badge

For the Dabbler Badge- completing a single item from each of the other badges is how you earn a try-it, and completing a try-it from each of the badges is how you earn the full badge.

[harlot-of-oblivion]

🔎OC Questionnaire: Mirabella🔎

a.k.a. The Detective Reader from The Devil’s In The Details series

Full name

Mirabella Merritt

Preferred name/nickname

Mira, Honey (even though she acts like she hates it)

Generally referred to as

Honeybee, Quickdraw, Hothead, Ice Bitch

Appearance

FACECLAIM: Here’s a portrait I made using Artbreeder: 

SEX: Female

HEIGHT: 5’5

WEIGHT: Lightweight 

BUILD: She got some muscle in her arms and legs from her defensive training and she stays in shape with some workouts at the local gym and nightly dancing at the local cantina. 

HAIR: long, soft, and honey blond. Her hair comes down just past her shoulders. She wears it in either a high ponytail or a perfect bun while working. It’s usually worn down or in a loose and messy ponytail at home. She usually curls it a little and either leaves it down or pinning it up with some flashy hair pins before going out for a night of dancing. 

SKIN: White. Smooth and soft with some rough areas around her scars and calloused hands.  

EYES: Honey brown like fine whiskey. They’re always sharp and focused while working a case behind her glasses. They light up like a wildfire when she’s angry and full of emotion. Long eyelashes.

MOUTH: Small mouth with thin lips. Slightly crooked teeth lightly stained with coffee.

NOSE: Little, rounded, and a bit crooked on the bridge. Small but cavernous nostrils.  

HANDS: Small with trimmed fingernails with the occasional manicure if she plans on dancing that night. A little calloused from training and drawing but otherwise smooth and soft. 

FEET: Small and narrow. Well trimmed nails that she paints before a night of dancing. A little rough from all the dancing in heels, but the occasional pedicure makes them soft and smooth. 

SCARS: One small round scar on her thigh from a stray bullet. One large burn scar on her chest and partly over her left breast with a couple other smaller scars. 

CLOTHES: A mix of business casual and sultry nightlife. Her work wardrobe mostly consists of suits, jeans, and riding jackets. She has a collection of backless evening dresses comfortable enough to dance in with a lot of high heels. There’s also quite a bit of leather, knee high boots, and concealed corsets and harnesses for her knives and guns.

OTHER NOTABLE FEATURES: She has a beauty mark just above and to the right of her chin.

Speech

VOICECLAIM: To be determined.

ACCENT: Neutral city accent.

VERBAL TICS: She will sometimes stumble over their words if back into a verbal corner.

LANGUAGE: Fluent in English and Spanish.

ARTICULATION: She is very good at explaining things; straight to the point, sometimes stubbornly so with a few curse words.

EDUCATION: She doesn’t mince words and gets straight to the point.

LAUGHTER: Her laugh is deep and hearty, but not many have heard it since she rarely laughs.

GRUMP: She’s a really grumpy gal! Grumbling, sneering, grunting...she’s done it all!

BREATHING: She humphs, scoffs, and huffs a lot when she’s annoyed.

Mannerisms

FACE: She has a stoic face most of the time, especially when she’s working. But she’s really expressive when annoyed or enraged.

HANDS: She pushes her glasses up her nose and twirls her drawing pencil a lot.

LEGS/FEET: She jiggles her leg a lot when in deep thought.

EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: She’s a bit of a hothead, so she’s definitely prone to some angry outbursts every now and then. Lots of yelling and shaking when she’s mad. 

HABITS: She dances to music while she cooks. She also fiddles with her drawing pencil and glasses a lot.

POSTURE: Very good posture, straight and to attention even when she’s not working. She tends to slump around when she’s really sad though.

WALKING POSTURE: She has a very confident stride at all times, but tends to get stompy when she’s angry.

SITTING POSTURE: She crosses her legs a lot while sitting and doesn’t slouch unless she’s digging into a very big meal. 

PERSONAL SPACE: She maintains a personal bubble for the most part, but she has been known to get into someone’s face during one of her tirades. She gets annoyed when people invade her own personal space, but doesn’t make a deal unless threatened. 

SPACIAL AWARENESS: She’s been trained to notice even the littlest of details, so it’s very rare for her to be clumsy and trip over things. 

OTHER: She always has to have a few hidden knives on her person at all times.

Health

DIET: She either eats a lot of junk food or nothing at all...there is no in between. Her favorite foods are spicy chicken wings, chilli dogs, pancakes, and belgian waffles. There are times that she forgets to eat while working on a case.  

SLEEP: She has an erratic sleep schedule. Some days, she’ll stay up really late and only get a few hours of sleep before work while on other days she passes out super early on the couch. She pulls a lot of all nighters if she’s working on a difficult case. Doesn’t dream much, but she does suffer from the occasional nightmare of past traumatic events such as her father’s death and a scaring case from her past.

EXERCISE: She works out at the local gym and at home, but her favorite form of exercise is dancing on the weekends.

ACTIVITY: She’s a hard worker...sometimes too hard. She’s been known to work herself into exhaustion on occasion. 

CLEANLINESS: She bathes regularly, showers in the morning and hot baths at night if she needs to relax. She takes special care of her feet and hair.

ODOUR: She has a nontypical feminie scent. Cool, herby, and slightly smoky.

MEDICINAL DRUGS: Birth control for her cycle.

NARCOTICS: No.

ADDICTIONS: No.

ILLNESS: No.

INJURIES: The scar on her chest still feels like it burns every now and then, but she thinks that’s all in her head. But she has noticed that it tends to get itchy around demons.

PARASITES: No.

OTHER: She’s a bit farsighted, hence the need for glasses whenever she wants to draw.

Personal

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT: She’s definitely more of an introvert, but she’s very outgoing with people she’s familiar with and has no qualms yelling when angered. 

OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: She’s more a pessimist with a dash of optimism when things go right.

GENDER: Female.

SEXUALITY: The gender and/or sex of a potential partner doesn’t really matter to her as long as they have the backbone to stand their ground around her. She can’t stand pushovers even though she’s more dominant in the bedroom. She finds it highly attractive if a partner can challenge her in some way, but if they turn manipulative she’s very quick to leave them in the dust.

ROMANTIC: She thinks that all romance is just a farce to get laid, but she secretly wonders how it would feel to be romanced. She has a weakness for any show of compassion, especially towards her since she scares away most people from getting closer to her. 

MEMORY: She has an excellent memory thanks to her training as a detective. She can recall a lot of obscure details off the top of her head such as restaurant menus, city streets, and defining features.

PLANNING: She’s very good at planning, very meticulous and contingencies are made for many possibilities. But sometimes the best laid plans fall apart, which is why she’s also a quick thinker and has been known to keep cool under pressure.  

PENSIVE: She spends a lot of time thinking about many things: her life, past actions, problems, and cases to solve. A lot of her ruminations happen while she’s drawing or driving on her motorcycle.

INTUITION: Her intuition is very sharp thanks to her training as a detective. 

PROBLEM SOLVING: She’s made a career out of solving problems, so she’s gotten very good at it.

GOALS: To serve and protect the people of Red Grave to the best of her ability.

INSECURITIES: She’s very insecure about the huge scar on her chest, which is why she never wears anything that shows her cleavage. No one knows about this since she’s so damn good at hiding her feelings. The only time it comes to light is when she’s intimate with a partner, but even then she just insists on wearing something to cover her chest. Her partner can still see and touch her anywhere if her demands are met. 

ACHIEVEMENTS: She was very proud when she got her badge and when she got her promotion to detective.

ANXIETY: Sharp objects near her eyes really freaks her out. And being around demons still makes her a little uneasy.

OVERWHELMED: She has a pretty high threshold for stress, but the dam has been known to break when it gets to be too much at the same time.

SELF-HELP: She says that she deals with her life problems, but it’s more like she brushes them off until she has to deal with it in order to move on once it becomes inconvenient. 

COMFORTS: Drawing, dancing, and eating breakfast food.

BAD HABITS: She taps her fingers a lot and even bites her drawing pencils at times.

PHILOSOPHY: She’s not very religious, especially after all the things she’s seen and experienced in Red Grave. But what she does believe in is that everyone deserves justice tempered with common sense.

TRIGGERS: The screeching of demons and malicious laughter.

The Past

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: Both of her parents divorced when she was very young. She was mostly raised by her father while growing up. She loved her father very much, so when he died in the middle of a gunfight she was utterly devastated. She had to move in with her alcoholic mother soon after, constantly bickering and dodging stray vodka bottles until she was old enough to leave. Her relationship with her mother hasn’t gotten any better since then.

SCHOOL: She always got the highest grades in her class. She was teased for having a “trashy bitch” as her mother by fellow classmates, but one punch to the face and groin of one bully soon put a stop to that until she graduated. 

ADOLESCENCE: Going through puberty was really rough for her since that was about the time of her father’s death. 

LEAVING HOME: She hated leaving her father’s home in Red Grave, but she celebrated leaving her mother’s home to pursue a career as a detective just like her father.

FURTHER EDUCATION: She went to a prestigious university for police training and to study criminal justice. 

FIRST JOB: She did a bunch of odd jobs before moving out of her mother’s house, mostly food delivery and front desk clerk for a local mechanic.

LIFE EVENTS: Watching her father get shot multiple times definitely solidified her decision to become a detective at a young age. Getting her badge and promotion was a very proud day for her. Almost dying at the hands of a malicious demon while working a case still affects her to this day.

WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: The day her father died.

BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: She finally found her place in the world beside her devilish partner.

LESSONS: Life isn’t always a basket of rainbows and sunshine; sometimes it’s just hell in a handbasket disguised as the most wonderful dream. Humans will always put up a fight even when it seems hopeless. Always get the whole picture before putting your pencil to paper.

LOOKING BACK: If Mira could re-play her life and do something differently, it would be to not call out her father’s name that fateful day...maybe if he hadn't of turned around he would’ve seen one of the shadowy figures pointing a gun at him. Maybe he would’ve lived if he hadn't just looked away at just the wrong moment.

Relationships

FAMILY: After her father died and she moved out of her mother’s clutches, she just accepts that she has no more family to speak of.

FRIENDSHIPS: A couple of her co-workers can be considered close friends. She values honesty in friendship, but finds it hard to open up about her feelings even among long time friends.

FRIENDS IN NEED: She’s a really good listener so she helps by hearing a friend out while they rant and rave their troubles to her. She’ll only offer advice when asked, and if it’s a subject that makes her feel uncomfortable...well, she tends to just stay silent and hope that it ends soon enough.

NEEDING A FRIEND: She’s always relied on herself so it doesn’t even cross her mind to seek help. She’d much rather just deal with her problems on her own, which makes the few friends she does have worry about her from time to time.

ANNOYANCES: She’s very easily annoyed if you know exactly what really grinds her gears. And if an argument or disagreement starts, she won’t back down unless proven wrong or she just gets way too angry and needs to leave to let off some steam. 

ROMANCE: She’s never really wooed anyone in a  romantic sense...she’s very up front and to the point, so if she intends to take someone to her bed then she’ll spell it out in big bold letters. She’s attracted to people who aren’t afraid to let her know a piece of their mind and respect her privacy.

MARITAL PROBLEMS: She’s not married, but there would probably be a lot of bickering and some fights that end with some sort of compromise.

ADVERSARIES: She doesn’t tolerate narrow mindedness and duplicity among friends.

ENEMIES: Anyone who harms innocent civilians and uses trickery for their own selfish gain will be seen as an enemy in her eyes. 

STRANGERS: She’s respectful of strangers since that comes part of the job, but she has no problem sharing a piece of her mind if they’re rude.

FUN STUFF: She likes to hang out at the local cantina for some good food, margaritas, and some salsa dancing.

DATING: She would just like to do what she normally does with friends...just in a more intimate setting with just her and her romantic partner. She also wouldn’t mind staying home, cooking a meal, and eating together on the couch while watching old movies. 

BEST FRIEND: To be determined.

LOVE: If she’s ever honest with her feelings...her devilish partner will forever always have her heart.

WORST ENEMY: Right now, whoever is behind the current string of murderers and disappearances is number on her list of worst enemies. The one criminal who got away is second for now.

RESPECT: She will never respect any enemies that pull innocent civilians into harm's way for selfish gain. 

Interactions

MINGLING: She’s not much of a mingler and she’s terrible at making new friends.

COMFORT LEVELS: She’s somewhat comfortable talking to people, but doesn’t go out of her way to to do so unless it’s for a case. The only time she’s uncomfortable is when they invade her personal space.

PHYSICAL: She’s not touchy-feely at all. The closest she’ll ever get to close contact is handshakes, shoving her elbow into someone that’s annoying her, and the occasional pat on the shoulder and arm.

GROUPS: She does okay in a big group, but she’s more than likely sulking in the corner listening to various conversations. It’s only when she’s hanging out with a small group of people that she can feel truly relaxed.

OPENNESS: She’s definitely not an open book...more like an angry bee buzzing around in an airtight jar. And even if you manage to crack the lid open you still gotta deal with one pissed off bee! But if someone’s able to withstand her sting then she’ll gradually open to them.

GENEROSITY: She’ll buy gifts for close friends for their birthday and holidays. And she would be willing to lend money to a friend if so long as it’s for an important and responsible reason. She always tells everyone that they don’t need to get her anything, but it secretly warms her heart anytime she receives a gift.  

JEALOUSY: She’s not prone to jealousy unless it has something to do with her job, such as someone seeing a clue she should’ve seen first, which just pushes her to do better. When it comes to romantic jealousy, she will do one of two things: she’ll either pretend that it doesn’t bother her while asking a lot of questions OR she’ll straight confront her partner about it with just a tad of anger within her voice.

TEMPER: She has one helluva temper! But it only comes out if you know juuuust the right buttons to press. And she tends to keep a lid on her temper while working unless it will help get a lead that will help the case.

EMPATHY: She’s able to empathise with people despite living a hard life, and her training as a detective sharpened this to a fine point since it sometimes helps to think like a killer. She’s always careful about what to say as long as she isn’t in the middle of an angry tirade.  

AFFECTION: She doesn’t show affection in the typical way; sometimes she’ll give a little sketch on a napkin or a full on drawing. Other times, she’ll bring some takeout from their favorite place along with their preferred booze of choice. And as for physical displays of affection, she likes to lean her on their shoulder or chest, maybe some light hand holding if she’s comfortable around them.

DISTASTE: She’ll outright tell someone she dislikes them to their face. But if she REALLY doesn’t like someone, she’ll dig up some dirt on them and casually pull it out the next time they get on her nerves.

ETIQUETTE: She can come off as rude and inappropriate at times thanks to her upfront attitude, but she tries really hard to reign it in during certain situations.

RESPONSIBILITY: If she’s proven to be wrong then she will not only own up to her mistakes, but she’ll also try her hardest to correct it. 

SELF ESTEEM: She’ll not only stick up for herself...she’ll straight up fire back! Being bullied in school has toughened her up and her skin has only grown thicker since then. 

CONFIDENCE: She doesn’t give a damn what people think about her.

HONESTY: She always speaks her mind honestly at all times. But while working she’ll keep some thoughts private if she thinks it will lead to a break in the case.

LEADER OR FOLLOWER: She’s a leader through and through.

PARTY TRICKS: She’s pretty decent at speed drawing and she can tie a cherry stem into a knot, sometimes two knots if it’s long enough, using only her tongue.

PRAISE: It depends on who is giving her the compliment that determines her reaction. If it’s her superior complimenting her on a job well done, then she’ll accept it graciously but move onto the case. But if it’s someone in a more intimate setting giving her a compliment, she’ll still accept it but feel very strange about...almost as if she really enjoys it even though she doesn’t think she deserves the praise.

FAILURES: Some people don’t appreciate her abrasive attitude and her terrible temper hasn’t made her much friends in the past.

CRITICISM: She can handle criticism, but she has a tendency to beat herself up over it if it’s related to work.

INSULTS: It depends on who’s insulting her. She’ll launch into a full on yelling match at some, but then roll her eyes and just fire back with her own insult at others.

EMBARRASSMENT: It takes a lot for her to feel embarrassed. But when it does happen, she tries really hard to hide it behind her stoic expression. The tips of her ears and front of her chest turn bright red when she’s embarrassed.

FLIRTING: She’s not verbally flirty, but her body does all the talking while dancing. 

ATTENTION SPAN: She’s great at multitasking and can hold her concentration for a very long time. She’s not easily distracted either.

SITUATIONS: She’s not good at dealing with difficult social situations, mostly because her first instinct is to start yelling. 

Life

CAREER: Detective for the Red Grave City P.D. She’s one of the best in her department and she finds her job very fulfilling with every case she solves.

PROMOTION: She’s happy where she is at the moment, but sometimes she feels like she could do more, which always leads to the idea about leaving the force to become a private detective just like her father.

BOSS: The superior she reports to was her partner before he got the promotion, so they have a pretty good relationship. 

DUTY: Solves crimes and brings criminals to justice whenever possible.

TECH: She’s great with modern technology.

POLITICS: Not very political.

COMBAT SKILLS: Has basic training in hand-to-hand self defence and has precise aim with her gun. She’s also not afraid to whip out one of her many hidden knives if ever disarmed.

HOME: She lives in a one bedroom flat near downtown Red Grave. It’s kept very clean and neat in some areas like the kitchen, but the one corner of the living room that serves as her work area is an organized mess of pencils, drawings, and crime scene photographs. Sparsely decorated with only a few personal touches here and there, such as a display case that holds her father’s custom gun.

DAILY LIFE: Goes through with the day-to-day tasks in a calm and orderly fashion most of the time. There are some days where stress gets the better of her, but some greasy food and a couple of margaritas help get her back on track.

INDEPENDENCE: Very independent ever since her father died.

COOKING: She’s a decent cook, only knowing a handful of recipes handed down to her from her father. Her specialty is spicy chicken wings, pan pizza, and pancakes.

BUILDING: She inherited her father’s toolbox and uses it for basic DIY around her flat since she hates waiting up for maintenance. She’s also a decent mechanic, which comes in handy when her motorcycle needs a tune up. And she knows a little about sewing, mostly just to fix her various riding jackets.

CLEANING: She tries to keep her flat clean, especially the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. But sometimes her job distracts her from doing her chores for days at a time.

SHOPPING: She doesn’t mind shopping, but it’s not something she looks forward to. She usually buys what she can online just so she doesn’t have to go out. She’s a sensible shopper and isn’t prone to impulsive buying unless it’s for a special occasion. 

DRIVING: She built her own custom motorcycle and drives around on it all the time.

FINANCES: She’s financially stable and pays her bills on time. She also has a tidy sum in her savings since she rarely splurges in anything besides food and drinks.

MARRIAGE: Not married and doesn’t really see marriage in her future. 

KIDS: No kids and doesn’t want kids.

PETS: No pets but wouldn’t mind getting one if she ever moves into a bigger flat.

DEPENDANTS: No.

LAW: The police got involved when she punched a bully’s lights out in high school, but no one pressed charges against her. Not much trouble with the law after that. 

COURT: She had to go there numerous times to sort out some legal issues with her mother.

PRISON: No.

TRAVELLING: She hasn’t been on holiday since college, and every time someone brings it up she just shrugs and says that her job doesn’t allow breaks. But she wouldn’t mind traveling somewhere for a time, drawing some new scenery and clear her thoughts before getting back to work.

MEDICAL: She goes to the doctor and dentist when she has to, but avoids the eye doctor like the plague...especially if the check up involves sharp objects near her eyes.

ILLNESS: She has PTSD.

WORRIES: She worries about difficult cases from time to time, wondering if she’ll solve it before more lives are lost.

PEACE: She doesn’t mind peace and quiet, but she’s gotten good at filtering out distracting noise whenever she’s concentrating on drawing or just pondering about theories. She listens to rock music while cooking though.

PARTYING: She loves to go dancing at the local cantina with a couple of her coworkers on the weekends. But she sometimes stays in if she wants to be alone with her thoughts.

HOBBIES: Her job as a police sketch artist before her promotion to detective has now become an enjoyable hobby. She also likes to collect knives and hide them in various places all over her person as well as her flat. And she’s been known to tinker with her motorcycle and find ways to make it run smoother.

I used this detailed character meme here to fill this all out (the OP’s tumblr is either deactivated or on private so I cannot provide the link there)

[aion-rsa]

Why Evil is the Only TV Procedural Worth Watching

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This Evil article contains spoilers. You can read a spoiler-free review of the show here.

Who knows what evils lie at the heart of CBS’s Evil? Shadows know. We consulted a book of shadows (not the one Leland Townsend (Michael Emerson) skims, too many spoilers there) to cut into the left ventricle of the darkness feeding the network’s supernatural series, now in production for season 2. The blood of the police procedural pumps through the veins of the paranormal investigation show, but Evil transcends the statutes of those limitations. Occasionally by papal decree. The series is intelligent, filled with symbolism, and its main character, who is training to be a priest, drops acid on a semi-regular basis. And he’s not microdosing. Look at those baggies.

Evil doesn’t debunk demonic possession, which is the main thrust of the team’s investigations. It never treats it as campy. The series believes demons are real, even giving the audience a breakdown of the six different forms possession take. But it deliciously stops short of giving full commitment. The show also explores how to parse out personal responsibility when there’s a supernatural being to blame. In episode 7, “Vatican 3,” we learn “the court does not acknowledge demonic possession” in determining guilt or innocence. The series further muddies the waters when the crew has to take a hard look at a murder committed by someone who wasn’t possessed, such as when the parents of what they believed is a demonically possessed child kill him. The series further turns the screw because the kid they killed to save their other children was born evil. It was literally in his genes.

Evil shares DNA with The X-Files, and David Acosta, played with charisma and empathy by Mike Colter (Luke Cage), is the new show’s Fox “Spooky” Mulder. He is looking for answers beyond the veil, which has the same letters as evil, and he is putting the pieces together like a hidden map of old Manhattan. There’s a truth out there and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to understand it. He’s not in it to solve any crimes against venal sins. He is looking for deeper meaning, and this alone puts the series above most procedurals. David’s got a bit of the scientist Dodge from original The Planet of the Apes film in his cinematic character. One of the first astronauts to delve so deep into the outer reaches of space, “He’d walk naked into a live volcano if he thought he could learn something no other man knew.” David is the same. He was a foreign correspondent in war-ravaged Afghanistan who got to know the soldiers whose stories he reported. Truth and knowledge are the most noble of callings, and ultimately come before his religious calling.

While the basic premise of a spiritual believer teamed with a dissenting psychologist is procedural trope, Evil is out to debunk the law of its diminishing returns. First, the show teams David with not just one skeptical voice, but two. Katja Herbers’ Dr. Kristen Bouchard plays the same role Agent Dana Scully played to Mulder, and with a similar arsenal. She comes from a different perspective, though. Bouchard does indeed believe in miracles, but thinks they all have scientific explanations. She is confident the only reason something might defy natural principles is because science hasn’t been applied properly yet. Scully, who wore a cross and took her faith seriously, accepted miracles on faith. David and Kristen rarely come to the same conclusion.

Ben Shakir, played by Aasif Mandvi, brings common knowledge, and shades his skepticism with cynicism. The former Daily Show correspondent takes on the weight of all three Lone Gunmen but with more constructive skills. Before joining the paranormal team, he was a carpenter, just like Jesus. Ben knows how things work, and when everyday mechanisms like sinks or faulty wiring are the root cause of supernatural phenomena, he can turn the screws, and spot the mold. Ben, “the Magnificent,” as Kristen’s children call him, is also tech savvy, and quite capable of hacking hackers.

Evil also throws things at Ben which he can’t easily spackle over with even the best of tests. Try as he may, and he tries, he can’t explain the light of an angel in the frame of a surveillance video. There is no evidence of doctoring, even at the most expert levels. “The world is weird,” David passes off as dating advice when Ben asks about potential girlfriend Vanessa (Nicole Shalhoub), who wants to know she if she should detach from her dead sister before committing to a new relationship. Vanessa thinks she is “tethered” to her phantom sister by the right arm.

Supernatural science is bizarre, creators Robert and Michelle King (The Good Wife, Braindead) believe. They push the show to diagnose causes the external evidence of exorcisms and stigmata, the bleeding wounds which correspond to the wounds on Christ’s hands when he was nailed to the cross. Because stigmatics display their wounds as they are portrayed artistically, rather than how the Romans historically would have done the crucifixion, it proves it comes from a psychological source. Internal belief causes the phenomena, not external spiritual forces. Evil explains that, allowing ample room for skepticism, belief, and even poetic reasons for spiritual incursions. David quotes Shakespeare to enunciate his faith. The concept of free will doesn’t come up in most procedurals. Neither does the way sociopolitical issues are turned into supernatural questions and tied to the origins of evil.

Evil is almost a character in Evil, and has relatable entry points. Real demons first get to Kristen’s four young daughters through an augmented reality videogame. A little girl who never takes off her Halloween mask almost gets the sisters to bury one alive. We don’t know how much of the characters’ perceptions is the result of a demon character’s influence on them. Each character is slowly being tempted by the dark side.

Kristen joined the team as a rational thinker but has had to accommodate uncomfortable ideas and adjust her comfort zone accordingly. In her usual line of work, she’s analyzed the criminally insane, but the show has pushed her into close contact with people who are evil in the Biblical sense. She is being pushed incrementally by forces in and out of her control. Her own mother Sheryl (Christine Lahti) sides with a manipulative competitor, Leland, over her daughter, and he’s made direct threats. The first season can be seen as Kristen’s slow corruption. The second season may see Kirsten apply her skills to her own situation, which will delve further into the dichotomy between the spiritual and pragmatic.

This is because Kristen may have already fallen. The final episode includes a telltale blood stain, which she wills Ben to unsee. On any procedural this is considered a clue, but here on Evil, the evidence actually points further than a mere homicide. It is the first sign that a main character has gone to the dark side. It is confirmed when the touch of a crucifix blisters her hand. There’s no such thing as an original sin and Kristen has been flirting with temptation long before this.

Kristen is a married nonpracticing Catholic who lost her faith. She’s sexually attracted to David, a man on his way to becoming a priest. When this subject was broached on the classic 1970s cop comedy Barney Miller, a prostitute who was supposed to be a young priest’s last fling before he entered a monastery said “I break laws, not commandments.” It feels like Kristen reminds herself of this every time the two of them are on screen alone together. Their sexual chemistry is that palpable. Yes, this is very similar to the long-gesticulating romance between Mulder and Scully, but he was no priest and she wasn’t married. Not only is Kristen married, but she’s got half a brood of daughters. Annoying things, really, but at least one of them has an excuse. Another reason Evil is the only procedural worth watching is because everyone on it just might be cursed. That’s not found in the manuals.

Evil towers over contemporary procedurals in how it’s going dark. Most procedurals chase a morally compromised arc, but Evil treats it like an encroaching corruption. Kristen, who is sworn to uphold the law, may have gone more than rogue vigilante. Besides the crucifix-burning season closing, David has visions of a goat demon waiting for Kristen with a scythe. She’d been tormented by her own personal demon throughout the season but when the George, the demon-like creature who visits Kristen during sleep paralysis, falls on the knife, it changes nothing. He is just one of many demons. One of them set up practice and is taking office hours with Leland.

The Demon Therapist is an all-male Goat of Mendes, or Baphomet. The show gets into how different biblical angels look from how they’re perceived artistically and by the contemporary faithful, but won’t present a faithful representation of Baphomet. It’s as patriarchal as Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. Evil keeps it vague whether the goat demon is real or in Leland’s head. The Demon therapist appears in Kristen’s dreams as well. Lexis (Maddy Crocco) disabled the house alarm for the visiting devil therapist when he invites her to “the next level,” making it seem she is at least susceptible to underworldly influence. The kids are irritating, but they are a bargaining chip and their father, Adam, put them up for grabs when they chanted together offering an exchange of souls. Kristen was co-opted into evil through protective motherly instinct. She doesn’t see the mark of the devil as a badge of honor. When Kristen puts the cross in her palm, she doesn’t look like she expected it as much as feared it.

While the network show will never have the freedoms afforded cable series, the acting is top notch all around. Series like HBO’s Perry Mason or even Showtime’s reimagined second incarnation of Penny Dreadful: City of Angels, provide a wider range of emotion and carnality. But Evil gives us muted, for the most part believable performances, very often underplayed. As are the special effects and use of technology as a narrative device. Too many procedurals treat high tech surveillance and other investigative tools like they are all-seeing eyes which can count nostril hairs.  It has become normalized. Evil doesn’t waste intellectual space with unreasonable gadgets. The tools Ben or Leland use to their computerized ends are believable. At one point, Kristen asks Ben to record a cell phone conversation which is already halfway over. She is surprised he can’t with all his special skills.

The series incorporates real world horrors into mundane life. Even some of the most normal looking settings carry a sense of unease, to underscore the show’s thesis that the supernatural is natural but never quite normalized. Many of the scenes are shot vertically, drawing the viewers’ eyes upward and inferring something is always going on above. The series’ many wide-angle shots put a distance between characters even in close-ups.

The show isn’t afraid to wear its influences on its sleeves, and on several occasions has a lot of fun with it. For Dr. Kurt Boggs’ (Kurt Fuller) arrival at an exorcism, they recreated Father Merrin’s introductory scene in the horror classic The Exorcist, shot for shot, even getting an exact replica of the light post and the same make car, though different year, from the film. They gave nods to Rosemary’s Baby, Misery, Cabin in the Woods, and Children of the Corn.  The climbing ax which Kirsten grabs on her way out to do damage on the serial killer Orson looks like it has teeth. As did the walking stick Lon Chaney’s Larry Talbot carried in The Wolfman. The demon George looks like Freddy Krueger’s good-looking cousin. The tonality of the show is reminiscent of Charles Laughton’s immeasurably influential Night of the Hunter.

The main reason Evil shines above most procedurals is because it is scary, and those scares have been building slowly and deliberately. Commonplace settings feel off, and the world around is filled with conspiracies and coverup. The Vatican asks the team to determine whether a woman who knows the hidden history of the church is a false prophet. The fertility clinic Kristen and her husband Andy used when conceiving Lexis corrupts fetuses with satanic insemination. A witty but innocuous internet meme, Puddy’s Christmas song, is a hummably foreboding earworm. Anything can go evil on Evil.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Evil season 2 is currently in production. Read more about that here.

The post Why Evil is the Only TV Procedural Worth Watching appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3fRxopa

[ariadne-mouse]

Prompt 19. “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me” Harrisco.

Here you go!  

Words: 1535

Rating: T

---

Cisco was acting cagey.

Cisco was acting cagey, and it was driving Harry nuts.  Cisco was always looking at Harry when he thought no one could see.  Always getting tongue-tied when Harry got close in the workshop.  Always sucking on those damn lollipops.  And, okay, that last one wasn’t really Cisco’s fault.  He’d said on more than one occasion that he ate more candy when he was stressed.  This, however, left Harry with the question of what Cisco was stressed about that he was raiding his Atomic Superpop drawer so often, and Harry decided he’d assign the blame squarely back on Cisco for being so talkative except about the thing Harry was most perplexed and infuriated by. 

Harry was a little hurt by it, if he was being honest with himself.  After the Thinker, he’d made his feelings about as clear as he could make them.  He’d told the whole group point blank that he loved them, and it was true, but he’d been speaking to Cisco most of all.  Cisco should have no reason to not share whatever was bothering him.  Harry would sooner blunt his own rough edges than hurt Cisco.

Perhaps it was good that there wasn’t a whole lot of spare time for Harry to think about it.  Even a few years after The Thinker, the heroes of Central City were still unearthing objects that had been altered by dark matter-infused shrapnel the satellite crash.  Meta tech was, at worst, a menace, and at best, an absurd inconvenience.  

There was a fountain pen that transformed writing into sensational purple prose.  

A frying pan that would incinerate anything put into it.

And then, there was the potted plant, and it was the most disruptive of all.  This potted plant had been in a courthouse during the satellite explosion, and struck by dark matter right as a witness was being sworn in for testimony.  Between the dark matter and the words ‘to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth’ washing over it, the little pot of red and pink begonias had acquired the intriguing effect of compelling true words from anyone in close proximity.  

Needless to say, this was a highly impactful object to have in a court of law.  The trials held at the Virginia Newell Courthouse were the source of a great deal of scandal (“Judge admits to accepting bribes!  Defendant confesses his secret zucchini bread recipe is stolen from a cooking website!  Prosecutor confesses deep desire to run away to the circus!”) before the place finally caught the attention of Team Flash.

Such an object was not terribly alarming, given the team’s experience with much more insidious objects.  They would simply acquire it, find a way to neutralize it, and move on.

Iris infiltrated the courthouse using her press badge to explain her presence, and hid the plant in a large handbag.

“I really love the way you don’t care that I can’t cook,” she told Barry as she deposited the plant in the lab.

“Of course I don’t care,” Barry smiled at her.

They made lovey eyes at each other while Harry, Cisco, and Caitlin examined the pot of begonias as if it was a bomb rather than a floral arrangement.

“We could just… not water it?” Caitlin suggested. “By the way, Cisco, I ate your hot pockets.”

“I knew it!” Cisco hissed.

“Soil’s bone dry already,” Iris replied, tearing her focus away from Barry. “I don’t think it needs water to survive anymore.”

“An immortal truth plant,” Cisco summarized warily, taking a half step back. “Great.”

“What if we cut it up?” Barry said.

“Then you have multiple sections of immortal truth plant,” Cisco sighed. “Which could be dispersed and cause even more trouble.”

“I’m glad I came back to this Earth,” Harry said.  Then he frowned. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Aw, it’s good to have you here too, Harry,” Iris replied, giving him a nudge.

“I’m going to see if I can make a... nullifying spray,” Cisco said in a rush, and backed away from the table.  

He was back thirty minutes later with a squeeze bottle and a determined expression.

“Alright, let’s defuse this truth bomb.”

He sprayed the plant liberally with a substance that shimmered slightly in the overhead fluorescent lights.

Everyone stared at the begonias.

“Did it work?”  Cisco asked, squinting.

Harry shrugged, then asked, unthinkingly. “Well, what’s something you wouldn’t want us to know?”

“I think I’m in love with you, and it scares the crap out of me.” Cisco said.  Then he clapped both hands over his mouth, eyes wide in pure horror.

Everyone stared.

Harry stared, in particular.  The tectonic plates of his worldview were rearranging.  His lips moved. “Guess... it’s still working…?”

Cisco continued to look as if he wished the world would swallow him up whole, and save him from his humiliation.  He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.  

“Right. Right, so,” he stammered as he tried to remember how to human correctly, “I’ll just go... back to the drawing board.”

He fled.

Everyone looked at Harry instead. He coughed.

"I'm going to go... help Ramon." And then he left, feeling the eyes of everyone on him.

Cisco was busy making a racket in the lab when Harry arrived, slamming tools on tables and hefting large boxes as he searched for supplies.

“Need some help?” Harry asked, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Cisco, who had his back turned as he reached high on a shelf, froze as he recognized Harry’s voice.  

“I’m good.”  His voice was a thready squeak, and he cleared his throat. “I’m good.  All good here.”  He didn’t turn around.  

Harry sighed. “Ramon...” 

Cisco continued to rifle through boxes, refusing to turn around.  His shoulders were hunched protectively.

“Ramon,” Harry tried again. “I just wanted to say--”

“I don’t need to hear it,” Cisco interrupted him. “It’s fine.  We can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“No,” Harry insisted.  “I… I wanted to say I’m… sorry.  I didn’t mean to force you to admit… what you did.”  Before the Thinking Cap, he might not have thought to apologize first.  But he knew better now.  He would show Cisco that.

“I said it’s fine,” Cisco snapped, apparently not caring about Harry’s new leaf.  There was a metallic clang as he accidentally jostled a piece of equipment.  “We can all forget about it.  Anyway, I have some work to do.  I should get on it.”

Harry ignored the implied dismissal, and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.  He might be more in touch with his emotions now, but it didn’t mean the words came any easier.  He’d always been better with expressing himself through physical action.  Knocking beakers off tables, throwing erasers. He’d have to channel the same focus for a more tender purpose.

He approached Cisco cautiously, like he was afraid one wrong move would send Cisco into another flight.  And with Cisco’s powers… if he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be.

“Ramon… Cisco,” Harry said.

Cisco crossed his arms and glared at the shelf in front of him.  He flinched when Harry gently laid a hand on his shoulder - a familiar gesture, but now carrying more weight than it had ever had before - and turned Cisco to face him.  

“Cisco,” Harry said again, moving to cup Cisco’s cheek.  Those sullen brown eyes were suddenly wide again, and fixed on Harry with a mixture of fear and hope.  It wasn’t hard, then, for Harry to admit it. “I’m scared, too,” he said.

“You-- what?” Cisco choked out, confused, even as he turned his face into Harry’s palm like a man taking a last breath of air before sinking underwater.

“We’re in the same boat, you and me,” Harry murmured.  A half-step forward took him comfortably within Cisco’s space.  He never could stay far from Cisco for long.  He’d crossed the multiverse to stay close.

Cisco’s fists clenched at his sides. “You can’t mean that.”

“Why not?” Harry grunted, a little insulted. “I’m in love with you, and terrified about it.  That makes us a pair.”  And when Cisco’s posture sagged, when hope began to overtake disbelief in his eyes, Harry gathered the courage to make his proposal. “So… Why not be scared, together?” he asked.

A nervous laugh escaped Cisco. “When you look at me like that, I can almost believe you mean it.”

“Believe it,” Harry said, and kissed him.

Some time later, both of them breathless and flushed, Cisco remembered the root of the whole situation.

“The stupid flowers,” he said from his seat on the lab table. “We gotta figure out what to do with them.”

“Why the rush?” Harry said, busy nosing a line from Cisco’s ear to his collarbone.

“Because… because.” Cisco sighed, unable to muster up a compelling reason with Harry being so... mmm... distracting. “Oh!  I know!”

“What?” Harry groused.

“We can Beauty and the Beast that shit,” Cisco exclaimed.”Crystal bell jar. Meta-dampening beam refracting infinitely within it.  Bye bye truthiness.”

Harry pulled back to look at him. “Brilliant.”

Cisco grinned. “Let’s do it.”

[donatello-writes]

Not Quite Human - Donatello x Reader

Part II can be found here --> (x)

The gentle glow of the television lit up your darkened apartment, you were wrapped up in a blanket on your couch hanging on every word of a news broadcast. Four mysterious vigilantes aided the police department in defeating the ominous alien spacecraft that threatened New York city not but a week ago. A smile crossed your lips as you entertained the idea that if aliens existed in this scenario, perhaps the vigilantes weren’t human either. Gossip flew regarding the identities of the heroes ranging from aliens to monsters, and many accounts claimed to have seen what were described as “swamp things”. A notion that delighted you, as matters of the occult and mythical creatures had always held your interest, even though you knew that none of it was real. 

“Maybe I’ll see one of those swamp things,” You voiced to your empty apartment and chuckled.

Deep down within the sewer systems, a certain nerdy turtle sneezed while in the midst of having the meltdown of his life. The champions secured their victory over the Krang, and they finally had some down time, but Donatello couldn’t relax. The brainy terrapin paced back and forth in the living room of the Lair so furiously, one would think he was attempting to wear a hole in the floor. He was understandably restless, as his thoughts on what his older sibling had done whipped around in his head like a maelstrom. A memory so vivid in his mind, it felt as if it’d happened yesterday. The vial of ooze shattering against the walls of the lair, lost forever.

“How could he do this?!–Don’t answer that, it was a rhetorical question…I know Raph is a doer not a thinker,” the teched-up turtle vented his frustrations to Michelangelo, the person he often turned to for emotional support. Much like himself, his little brother was more sensitive and empathetic than their other two brothers. 

“I dunno, dude…but hey, it’s not all that bad bein’ green,” the orange masked turtle smiled warmly, trying his best to comfort Donatello, as he always did. Despite his cheerful demeanor, he was hurting over the impulsive decision as well. Raphael meant no malice with his actions, he honestly had no idea what this meant to his younger siblings, but that fact didn’t make up for the outcome.

“Neither of them understand, but I know that you do, Mikey,” the fretful terrapin sighed heavily, meeting eyes with his brother. Both of the young turtles yearned to know what it felt like to be human, to be able to walk around topside without being viewed as freaks or, worse yet…monsters. With their only chance having been destroyed by an act of impulse, they were both understandably distraught.

“Yeah, I totally get it,” Mikey admitted, finally showing his disappointment with the situation. “But what can we do? The purple stuff that we had is gone now.” 

Donatello’s expression fell into anguish at the veracity of his brother’s statement. “That’s true, and it’d be impossible for us to successfully secure more from the Shredder…Not just the two of us, anyway,” The bespectacled turtle’s eyes focused downwards as he finally settled down into a seat. “Also, we don’t know for sure if they have more of the formula created.” 

Michelangelo’s face almost looked pained at this point, he didn’t want to think about the harsh reality of the situation for even a moment longer. He rose from the table, giving his brother one last half-hearted smile.“Well, it was a nice dream, but what-evs,” the now undeniably gloomy young terrapin patted his brother on the shell before getting up and trudging to his room. 

Donatello pinched the bridge of his snout as he sat alone in the common room, despair consuming him. All he wanted was to experience what it was like to be human, and he would never get that chance now. The ooze was unsalvageable, what little remained was now still splattered across the lair walls. His golden eyes became misty as they beheld Raphael’s masterpiece, in all it’s glory. Suddenly, a bit of light reflected off a small portion of the stain, grabbing the brooding turtle’s attention. Was it really still liquid? Impossible.

Jumping to his feet, he approached the wall, inspecting it thoroughly. The ooze had somehow remained viable, his jaw dropped in disbelief. The once sorrowful terrapin’s hope was renewed, all he needed was even the smallest amount for analysis and he could find a way to replicate it. Now filled with excitement, he bounded into his lab to retrieve a petri dish and swab to collect the ooze specimen. He scraped his prize from the surface with great precision, careful not to contaminate it with too much concrete from wall upon which it was affixed. After successfully recovering a sample, Donatello let out a relishing chuckle as he shut himself away in his lab, fueled by enthusiasm and determination. 

In the months following the start of his endeavor, he lied about the specifics of it, telling his brothers that he was working on some amazing invention that would aid them in their missions. It was obvious that he couldn’t tell Leonardo or Raphael, as they clearly didn’t understand. And after much debate, he finally came to the decision to leave Michelangelo in the dark as well, not wanting to get his hopes up; that, and he was awful at keeping secrets. The genius worked tirelessly, months rolled by, and before he knew it, a year had passed. He felt as though he wasn’t accomplishing anything, becoming increasingly frustrated with each passing day. 

It was 5:00 a.m. when a sleep deprived and starving Donatello stumbled out of his lab in pursuit of sustenance. He wore his purple mask as a necklace and groaned with every step that he took towards to the kitchen. Once there, he made a bee line for the coffee pot, his savior. Raphael had just finished his early morning workout and spotted the elusive mad scientist, stalking him into the kitchen. 

“Whaddaya doin’ outta yer geek den?” the question came in the form of a growl as the burly terrapin eyed his younger sibling, who simply responded by shooting a glare in his general direction. 

Choosing to ignore him, Donatello simply continued setting up his coffee, clicking the appliance on to work it’s magic, and then reached into one of the cabinets, to retrieve a box of blueberry flavored Pop-Tarts. 

“Whut eva…” the hot-headed turtle’s words trailed off as if he had more to say, but he stopped himself; this silence was fleeting, however. As always, he just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, so he started again,“Ya know…when I got a problem wit someone I tell ‘em, but I guess I’m just bawlsier than most.” the bait was set, and he waited for his younger brother to take it. The troublemaker used this tactic with frequent success, but Donatello was in no mood for his shenanigans, and the mechanical sputter of the busy coffee pot was the only thing to be heard between the two turtles. 

The still sleepy terrapin proceeded to pour his coffee, and munch on his breakfast, letting Raphael stand there and simmer. When it became apparent that he the he no interest in talking, the rageful reptile’s temper went through the roof. “FINE. I thought so! Avoidin’ any sawt of conflict like usual! Enjoy yer cawffee break.” He stormed out of the room grumbling.

“Conflict…” He muttered to himself as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the word turning over and over in his head before he had a sudden realization. “That’s…that’s it!!!” He exclaimed, rushing from the kitchen with his coffee mug in one hand, and half-eaten Pop-Tart in the other. The genius sped past Raphael, rattling off scientific terms to himself like a mad man. When he reached his lab, he turned and stopped to stare down his brother before grinning wide and slamming the doors shut. 

“DONNIIIIIIE!!!” Raphael roared, racing up to the large laboratory doors and thrusting his fists into them. The doors showed no signs of permitting entry from the assault, but he did leave a significant dent.

*****************************   

Across the city, you ran down the darkened streets dressed in a lab coat and business casual. You were late for work, but chose the sweet relief of alertness over punctuality, as you quickly slipped into a small coffee shop to grab a cup. And today, you needed that extra boost of energy more than any other. After securing your liquid adrenaline, you happily headed to work, not needing to walk far. You approached the gigantic facility that was TCRI, and walked inside. As always, you held up your credentials to the guards at the desk, who permitted entry, and touched your badge to an electronic pad which then granted you access through secure titanium doors. 

Doing your best to stifle the overwhelming stress that all but consumed you as of late, you drew in a deep breath and went about your normal routine at the laboratory. As the day wound down to a close, you prepared to carry out the mission you had been given. It was now late into the night, and all of your colleagues had long since left for the day. 

You remained, working on the latest project involving nano technology as a form of biological warfare. Subtly sabotaging the efforts of the project; in good conscience, you couldn’t allow it to be successful. The very idea of implementing this abhorrent tactic made you cringe, but you did what needed to be done in order to carry out a far more important assignment, retrieving a vial of Dr. Stockman’s highly sought after genetic modification formula. Tonight, you would secure a sample to bring back to your actual employer.

The security guards weren’t even a bother, all you needed was a little bit of Nitrous Oxide to temporarily take care of them. Slipping silently into the main laboratory, you did a quick survey of your surroundings before proceeding. Having already knocked out the security cameras, and programmed them to show previously recorded footage, you were not concerned. Knowing exactly where it was kept, you located the ooze and tucked the vial into your pants pocket posthaste. 

“Y/N?” Instantly recognizing that voice, you turned to see one of the head geneticists, Sampson, steadily approaching you from across the room.

“Hello, Sampson.” You greeted your colleague tactfully, showing not even an ounce of lost composure from his unanticipated presence.

“Why are you in here? This isn’t your working sector.” He inquired through narrowed eyes, all the while analyzing you skeptically.

“Doreen asked for my assistance with the centrifugation of subjects 2201XJ8 and 2243XW9.” You had glanced briefly at the recent project files earlier in the day to prepare yourself for just this type of scenario.

“That’s odd…2201XJ8 and 2243XW9 were contaminated and, thus, thrown away several hours ago…” suspicion piqued, he advanced towards you quicker than you could react. Attempts to flee came too late, and he managed to grab hold of your collar. Swiftly wriggling out of your lab coat, you gained freedom from his grasp. Thinking on your feet, you hit the conveniently placed bright red lock down button and slid underneath the door, trapping your coworker inside. Something told you that you weren’t the first person to do that. 

Sampson wasted no time dialing a contact in his phone as he watched you escape, “Yes…Hello, I heard that your gang will do pretty much anything for the right price…I have a job for you.” He knew full well that he couldn’t enlist the foot ninjas for assistance, admitting his incompetence to the Shredder was a fate worse than death. Completing the transaction with his hired thugs, he smiled deviously as they confirmed their pursuit of you. The sunrise met your eyes as you fled the building, taking off down the street knowing that you weren’t out of the woods just yet.

*********************************

It had been over a year since Donatello began his quest for the ooze, and now the culmination of his hard work was finally coming to fruition. And in all irony of ironies he, partially, had Raphael to thank for it. The purple liquid bubbled within the beaker that housed it, begging to be tested, and the genius just couldn’t resist. He carried on like a kid who received the keys to a candy store. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t test it right away, what with his brothers in the lair. With all of them present, it would be impossible for him to slip out in his human form unseen. So he waited. Several days later, the police scanner picked up a report of foot clan activity, and Leonardo called his brothers together to discuss plans to investigate. Donatello smooth talked his way out of going, claiming he was close to a breakthrough in his research, which wasn’t a complete lie. He simply neglected to mention that it pertained to the purple ooze.

With his brothers out chasing the foot, the brainy terrapin had the lair to himself, at long last! Well, with the exception of Master Splinter, but sneaking past him was a non-issue. Donatello was beaming as he ­­­peered into the vessel that contained his scientific masterpiece, just one sip should be enough…He knew that the effects of his synthetic ooze would be temporary, a purposeful attribute given to it by him, it’s creator. All the purple clad turtle wanted to do was experience what is was like to be human. If, following the testing phase, he felt as though he was meant to be that way, he’d later rework the formula to be permanent. That, however, was a venture for another day, now was the time for experimentation. 

Shutting his eyes tight, he drank from the vial. After waiting for a moment, he opened them, unsure of when it would take effect. Suddenly, his muscles began to ache, as a tense feeling surged throughout his body. He watched his fingers divided from three to five on each hand, just as he’d witnessed when he tested the formula previously. Gradually, his skin changed from green to a pale peach and his scales smoothed out into soft flesh. The excited lad tripped over himself while rushing into his bathroom, wanting to watch in the mirror as the transformation unfolded.  

Donatello stared back at himself in awe, he had ears! The oversized tortoise shell glasses he always wore slipped down his face more than usual as his snout took the shape of a much smaller, yet still prominent, human nose. Freckles dusted across his pale cheeks and shoulders as wavy raven black hair cascaded down from his head, delicately framing his face and stopping just a few inches past his jawline. He was so distracted by his new facial features that he didn’t even notice his shell had disappeared. 

Once the metamorphosis was complete, the triumphant brainiac threw his head back, and laughed like an evil genius. A slight reduction in body mass occurred during his shift in form, not enough to be discernible to the naked eye, however, it was enough to cause his pants to lose their grip on his hips. The villainous laughter was interrupted when his bottoms proceeded to slip from his slender human waist, and he grabbed his Millennium Falcon patterned boxers before those followed suit. 

“Oh no…what am I supposed to do? I can’t go topside in the nude.” to remedy his immediate and unexpected need for human clothing, he turned to Michelangelo’s room. That pack-rat of a turtle collected mundane artifacts as if they were valuable treasures to be hoarded, surely he’d be able to find something usable in that mess. Donatello entered the room, piles upon piles of clothing, unusable electronics, and other clutter filled it, along with several empty boxes of pizza. He scrunched his nose at the effluvia that hung in the air, his little brother somehow managed to make his particular corner of the sewer smell even fouler.

Holding his breath, the nerdy young man randomly chose one of the many mounds of oddments and rummaged through it. After some digging, he managed to find one black muscle tee that read “Rad Dude” in a trendy red colored font, a pair of very worn black converse shoes, and a pair of denim jeans, ripped at the knees. The best article of clothing he’d found in the stash being a flannel shirt in various shades of purple. Having no time to be picky, the thief made off with what he’d found.

While returning to his laboratory to get changed, the turtle turned human was nearly knocked out by the putrid clothing that he held in his arms. This was unacceptable, there was no way he was going to wear something that smelled worse than a sewer, he needed to wash the garments before he ventured to the surface. Stepping into the seldom used laundry room, Donatello flicked on the lights and blew the dust from the old machines. As he reached for detergent, he wondered if they even still worked. Tossing the clothing and soap into the washer, he turned it on to find, much to his surprise, that it was still fully functioning.

Now needing to wait for his clothing to go through the entire washing and drying process, the impatient turtle fidgeted in frustration at the unexpected delay. Coming to terms with his predicament, he passed the time by logging the alterations that occurred during his shift in form, to ensure he had enough information to further his research on the ooze’s effects. Making quick work of his notes, he then switched the laundry to the dryer. The waiting game began anew and he swiftly found himself consumed by boredom once more. He wondered what else he could do to fully immerse himself in the human experience. 

Thinking about how atrocious his clothing smelled, and worried the washing may not fully rid the garments of their stench, he decided to create a fragrance. Knowing full well that humans often wore scents to conceal smells, but also for the purpose of attracting potential partners. Donatello scoffed at the thought, the likelihood of him finding another person who shared mutual interest during the, more than likely short, duration of his experiment was slim at best. 

As if he were concocting a a witches brew, the bespectacled lad swirled together various scents into one of his unused beakers. In no time at all, he had a cologne with top notes of orange blossom and vanilla, middle hints of almond, and a musky base. More than satisfied with his Eau de Don, he dabbed it on gleefully.

All the sudden, a clatter came from the living room, and the sound of his brothers voices could be heard. Donatello’s smile dropped, there was no way they’d already returned from their mission, it felt as though they’d just left. The digital clock on one of his many computers proved him wrong, it was already 4:00am! He’d gotten so carried away in preparation for his excursion topside, that he paid no attention to how quickly the hours flew by. 

Thankfully, the time spent wasn’t a complete waste, he documented when he administered the ooze and was tracking the duration of it’s effectiveness. Exactly eight hours had elapsed, and he was still human. Quite an impressive lasting ability, he thought, giving himself a congratulatory pat on the back. Unfortunately, with his brothers now home, he was effectively trapped in his laboratory for the time being. He couldn’t just saunter out of his lab looking the way he did, what a spectacle that would be. 

“Looks like I have another sleepless night, er…well, day at this point.” He chuckled to himself, slumping back in his computer chair. It took two more hours before the potency of the ooze came to an end. The reversion from human to mutant being, unsurprisingly, more painful than the obverse. Now returned to his old turtle self, the purple masked ninja ventured out into the common room, only to find his brothers passed out on the couch and the floor. He stifled a laugh, turning on his heel back into his laboratory. Seizing this opportunity, he wasted no time administering himself more ooze and stealing up and away to the surface.

Wintry weather was drawing to a close, and a slight warmth danced on the breeze as spring began to move in. The mutant in human’s clothing relished in the glow of the sun, something he didn’t have the privilege of doing often. Strolling down the street like Toby McGuire in Spiderman, Donatello was smiling from ear to ear. He was topside in broad daylight and not a soul took notice of him, he couldn’t believe it, it almost felt like a dream.

Not paying attention to where he was going, the happy go lucky lad found himself lost in a more secluded side of town. Sure, he could easily navigate New York at night, but the city looked so different during the daytime. Suddenly, a cry of distress shattered his concentration. It came from somewhere nearby. Instinctively, the ninja rushed in the direction from which the voice originated. 

The shouts led him to an alleyway where two rough looking men circled around you, your hands poised to fight, but subtle shuddering alluded to hesitancy and fear. They were both very muscle bound, one slightly smaller than the other, with distinct purple dragon tattoos on their arms. When Donatello approached, they immediately took notice of his presence. 

“What’s going on here?” He demanded a response from the ne'er-do-wells, despite knowing the answer.

“Get outta here, four eyes.” the smaller thug scoffed, “You see, this little rat has something that we want.” and the larger man chimed in, “So, it’d be in your best interest if you left us to our business.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Donatello stood his ground, “It’d be in your best interest if you left them alone.” He then assumed a fighting stance. 

The brawnier of the two men eyed the brave young man and laughed incredulously. “And just what exactly are you going to do to stop us, little man?” 

To which Donatello replied, “Looks can be deceiving.” aside from having a height advantage, there was no denying that the thugs had significant size over him. They were far more massive compared to his still muscular, yet lithe, build. Finally acknowledging their potential threat, the two men advanced towards their new target, leaving their prey behind.

The stranger turned hero locked eyes with you, “Run, you have to get out of here, it’s not safe!” an exclamation that was cut short by the smaller thug, who came rushing at him, brandishing a knife. With keen reflexes, Donatello deflected the attack, kicking upwards at just the right moment to send the knife whipping over his assailant’s shoulder. Once you’d seen that maneuver, there was no way you were about to leave. You were far too intrigued by this ridiculously tall young man with undeniably amazing fighting skills, you yearned to learn more.

“Alright, mister fancy feet, it’s time to dance.” the larger man jested as he cracked is fists, fitting brass knuckles onto them. Donatello scanned the area and grabbed a nearby pipe from the dumpster, twirling it through the air, just as he would his bow staff. If there’s one thing his father taught him, it was that anything can be used as a weapon if wielded properly. 

“Haha, look at this, I guess dance class is over, and now it’s time for baton practi–” using the metal pipe, Donatello knocked the wind out of the hulking hoodlum before he could even finish his taunt, sending him flying backwards into a pile of garbage. 

“I suppose I can strike ‘taking out the trash’ from my list of chores.” Donatello snorted at his own one-liner and his gaze happened upon you, as you watched with wonder. A smile played across your lips, and you laughed at his witticism, waving to him. The suddenly flustered hero awkwardly waved back.

The knife wielding thug recovered his weapon, catching Donatello off-guard as he flirted with you, slipping the knife to his throat from behind. The thug was unsuccessful in his attempt, however, when the captive drove his heel into the man’s foot, causing him to release the knife. While his assailant was distracted, he reached both arms around, heaved the man over his shoulder, and back dropped him onto the hard pavement. There was no recovering from that attack anytime soon. He then shifted his stance to face the other foe, who had since recuperated from the previous assault. The behemoth barreled towards him like a charging rhinoceros. 

“Bad move, I know exactly how to deal with this.” Donatello smirked as he anchored himself with the pipe, and delivered a swift low kick to the thug’s ankles, causing him to topple to the ground. Confident that he had both enemies disabled, your victorious rescuer turned his attention to you.

“Are you alright?” the lanky lad inquired as he sprinted to your side, adrenaline still pumping from the fight. He failed to stop soon enough, resulting in him accidentally knocking you against one of the brick walls in the alleyway. The two of you were nose-to-nose, so close that you could feel each other’s breath. His towering form would have been intimidating, if not for the goofy smile on his face. 

“Aaah, oh my god, I am so sorry!” He promptly leapt back, “You didn’t need that on top of what you’ve already been through today. I am really, really sorry, I’m such a klutz.” He apologized profusely, running his fingers through his purple tinged black hair, refusing to meet your gaze.

“Jeeze, that was like something straight out of a cheesy rom-com.” You jested, in an attempt to ease his nerves. 

Not the reaction that he was expecting, the nervous hero let out a sigh of relief. “Y-yeah, I suppose that it was, wasn’t it?” He stuttered, still a bit anxious, but less so thanks to your funny observation. 

“And you’re certainly no klutz, I saw the way you fought off those goons, you’re incredible! How’d you learn to fight like that?” You asked him, eyes filled with amazement and genuine curiosity. 

“Well, my father taught me, along with my brothers…” Donatello replied flatly, in an attempt not to appear worked up by your compliment, for fear that he’d make a fool of himself further. Butterflies were forming in his chest, he’d never spoken to another person so close to his age, aside from April and Casey. 

Unfortunately for him, you were eager to learn more about your happenstance hero, and before he knew it, he was being quizzed rapid-fire. “Oh, you have brothers? How many?” and with barely a breath in between, you rattled off more questions. “What are their names? What’s yours?”

“Uuuh…three…Leonardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo…And I’m--my names Donatello.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Donatello. My name is Y/N! What interesting names…are your parents big fans of Italian Renaissance artists?” You looked to him, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Okay, stop. STOP. I don’t recall agreeing to a game of 21 questions!” He put an end to your onslaught of inquiries. 

Enthusiasm quashed, you backed off, smiling at him sheepishly. Though it wasn’t long before you bounced back, and with one hand on your hip and the other pointing at Donatello, you offered a proposal. “Alright, then…Would you like to play 21 questions?” Your eyes flickering with anticipation, the same kind of unrelenting determination he frequently saw in his brother, Mikey. 

From experience with this personality type, Donatello knew it would be easier to simply humor you rather than try to get out of it. He was absolutely baffled by you, your intentions were unclear, and he was not certain that you were someone he could trust. Regardless, he reluctantly agreed to engage in your game. 

“I’m so sorry for that…sometimes I get a bit carried away. I enjoy meeting new people and learning about what factors lead to making that person into who they are.” You grinned, playfully kicking up your feet as you strolled down the street together. It was obvious that Donatello was trying to keep his distance, as the space between the two of you was fairly significant, to the point where it appeared as if you were walking separately. “You don’t trust me, do you?” He cursed at how perceptive you were. 

“Well, to be honest, no…not really. We’ve only just met.” He stated simply, his eyes scanning you up and down with suspicion. There was a long silence before you broke it with another question.

“How tall are you?” He was amused by the obvious question and quickly answered, “6'6”“ 

“You must garner a lot of attention walking down the street.” a comment that threw him into a fit of laughter as he thought about what he actually looked like. If only you knew how little he drew attention this way compared to if he strutted down the street in his real form. 

“What? HA! Me? No way. Now if I were–” Donatello clammed up, he nearly outed himself  to human that he’d just met. As if you’d ever believe him, but still…there was just something about you, you were easy to talk to. He laughed again at the thought before continuing, “Uuuh, so, you said that you have a dog, right?” He attempted to redirect your attention by also engaging in the game with his own inquiry. 

“What was that? You just trailed off mid-sentence.” an attempt to no avail, you demanded a reason for his inexplicable change of subject. “And…I don’t remember telling you that I have a dog.” in that moment, roles reversed, and you were the one suspicious of him. 

Another misstep, this was very out of character for Donatello; and for the first time in a while, he felt vulnerable. After some quick reflection, he realized that he’d picked up on the dog’s scent during your accidental close encounter in the alley earlier. Though his nose appeared human, his senses themselves, remained as sharp as they’d always been. 

“Are you a stalker?” You questioned him bluntly. 

“What? No, I’m not stalking you, I promise.” 

The sincerity of his answer confirmed your speculation to be false.“Alright…but I’m watching you!” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Who’s the stalker now?” the charming young man shot you a cheesy grin upon delivering his terrible joke. You stuck your tongue out at him, and he chuckled. A sudden breeze whipped up, startling the two of you. Even though the winter weather had mostly gone, a slight chill remained in the air. You shivered reflexively, realizing that you had sacrificed your coat amidst the chaos of escaping from Dr. Stockman’s laboratory. 

Donatello immediately noticed your discomfort and removed his flannel over-shirt, giving it to you with a warm smile. His cold blooded innards were not happy with his choice to shed clothing, and he was unable to disguise his own trembling reaction to the cold as he handed you his shirt. Without saying a word, you reached out a shaky hand and took it. While you were putting it on, a blush crossed you face for just a moment, as his scent wafted up from the clothing. 

“Thanks.” the pleasantry was all that you could muster for words as you fought hard to stave off your rosiness. 

“Purple looks good on you.” that sweet compliment pushed you over the edge, and your face flushed completely red as you turned away from him. 

“Y/N…Are you alri–” His sentence was brought to a halt as an all too familiar feeling hit him abruptly, indicating that the ooze’s potency was waning. Aware that his time as a human was now limited, he took a queue from his older brother, Raphael, and acted on instinct. The distressed young man proceeded to back away slowly before breaking out into a full sprint. With your back turned, you were none the wiser. Feeling suddenly alone, you finally turned to find that your escort had vanished, leaving only his flannel shirt to remember him by.

…to be continued.

[writeblrfantasy]

Hey, remember when I introduced Tales of the Mages of Meadowbury and then never did anything else with it? Here is an excerpt from Cloaked, my personal favorite of the five stories.

Pain. Mox’s whole being was pain, head to toe. The pain in his chest had been reduced to a dull ache, but everything else was agony, which didn’t make sense. Mox was awake enough to realize a simple chest wound shouldn’t bring pain enough to rival that one horrible week.

Moving his head was a mistake, as that made him nauseous and dizzy. He closed his eyes with a groan. There was blaring light all around. A soft laugh came from his left side. Mox wrenched his eyes open to see the man he’d saved sitting by his bed. Mox was laying on a bed?

“Welcome back,” the man said, grinning awkwardly, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. If Mox could’ve mustered the energy to sigh, or roll his eyes, he would’ve.

The man was drinking from a cup. Mages’ tea, from the smell of it. No wonder; the man had performed two killing spells as well as invisibility and gods knew what else. That would exert anyone. He’d probably woken up from the commotion and joined the fight without pausing to think.

So he may not be what Mox expected, but he was a quick thinker.

“How are you feeling?” the man asked.

“Terrible,” Mox muttered, glancing around at his surroundings. He was on a bed in a long room of white light, other beds, and medicine cabinets. A healer’s ward. Something Mox was all too familiar with.

His robes and cloak were sitting awkwardly against his sides, his upper chest naked but swathed in bandages. They’d probably decided to tear his cloak after discovering it was attached to the hood, and the hood was locked in place.

Mox could feel the buzz of magic coating him, spells he hadn’t cast. He tried to sit up, but was gently pushed back down by a frigid hand. “Nuh-uh. You were wounded and cursed, the healers said. No way you’re getting up yet.”

“Believe me, I’ve dealt with much worse,” Mox retorted, but conceded. “Cursed?” He blinked as memories came flooding back. Of course. “Gods, I’m an idiot.”

“What?”

“The guild enchants their daggers,” Mox said, then stopped himself. “Let me backtrack.

”Every assassin’s guild--and trust me, there are many--has their own mark carved onto the dagger that each assassin carries. It’s like an ID. Most assassins know the designs of other guilds, and so when you can’t see someone, you can look at their dagger and know from where they hail. To know if you’ve met friend or rival.

“The guild I was from, the guild where the assassins tonight are from, use enchanted daggers as further insurance. Nasty spells, ones you need permits for.” He didn’t add that Semanente had been rather liberal with his use of such spells. As leader of the city guild, he’d probably thought himself above the laws that other mages had to abide by.

“The curses usually worsen any wounds the dagger inflicts, make the wounds take longer to heal and resist magical healing. In some cases, the curses can equate to poison. My dagger enchantments were removed when I left the guild, but it’s clear things haven’t changed since I’ve been away.”

The man whistled lowly, eyes glittering with interest. Mox smiled under the privacy of his hood, but not a second later his priorities woke up. Questions. Why wasn’t this man interrogating him instead of discussing assassin techniques like a fascinated schoolboy? Why hadn’t this man ordered him to remove his hood? Where was the whole household, for that matter? His guards?

“Forget me,” Mox said, shoving everything else back for now. “Who are you?”

The man took another drink of tea, and Mox realized he’d changed clothes. He was now wearing a cape decorated with pins and badges; permanent spell permits thanks to his authority. Hints of a rich red shirt showed underneath the cape, and a bowler hat sat on his head, covering most of the curls Mox had seen in the dark.

Mox impatiently declined the tea he offered. “My name,” the man said slowly, like he knew how eager Mox was to know, “is Lemadaren. The governor’s nephew and heir.” Setting his teacup on the table beside Mox’s bed proved to be too grand a task, as it slipped through Lemadaren’s fingers and broke on the floor. And he didn’t have cursed blades to blame.

Mox was unable to hold in a snort as Lemadaren swore, then hastily waved a hand to clean it up. So this was the governor’s heir. The person that had required six assassins. The man whose life Mox had gotten cursed saving.

Internally, Mox allowed himself a long, deep sigh. Gods help him.

“Sorry,” Lemadaren muttered, and Mox thought for a moment he was talking to the spilled tea. Then he glanced up at Mox with a shy smile. “Thoughts?”

Mox didn’t know whether to laugh or gape. He really never thought his night would end like this. “Uh- your parents must’ve loved long, confusing names.”

Lemadaren grinned. “I know. You can call me Lem if you’d like. Everybody does.”

Mox found himself smiling again, and quickly reprimanded himself again, even if Lemadaren couldn’t see his face. Get your priorities straight, man.

Lem opened his mouth before Mox could speak. “The healers found it rather odd that your hood was glued to your head. And you’re riddled in scars, or so they say. Why?”

“I’m an ex-assassin, what did you expect?” Mox said quickly.

“I’m sorry,” Lem said, sounding strangely like he meant it. “And the hood? I would like to see the person who saved my life tonight so I can thank him. It’s a bit…unnerving, talking to a hood I can’t see under.”

At least he’d phrased it in a much more polite way than most. “No”, Mox said. “I’ll tell you anything, cooperate in any way but that.”

taglist: @mudtomagic @charles-joseph-writes

lmk to be added/removed! i promise i will post more of this in the future

[soultek]

It Won’t Always Be Like This - Kenneth Hayes x Reader (The Outsider)

Love It Gone / The Arraignment

Author’s Note: It took me way too long to figure out the lyrics for this one. Hence the long time coming B U T we got there in the end. He’s still my baby and still my favourite and I honestly need to rewatch this show (or... skip to all my favourite moments at least) In conclusion: I need to write this relationship more, they make me happy! Disclaimer: The Outsider & associates show/book characters not mine / lyrics not mine / My screen cap!

Premise: Terry Maitland is innocent, Kenneth Hayes now knows this for certain. That means he has some apologizing to do... You know everyone will get through this somehow, and you’ll be there for him every step of the way...

Words: 1865

Warnings: not-so-subtle sexual connotations / swearing

____ Wish I could've told myself back then It won't always be like this It won't always be like this I know nothing lasts forever But sometimes I still forget It won't always be like this Didn't have a clue who I was, Who I could trust, and who were my real friends I had big wings but didn't have a sky Just a front-row view of everybody flying high Waiting for my time, wish I could've told myself back then No, the heart won't ache forever No matter how hard it gets It won't always be like this, no Looking at you looking back at me All I wanna do is make another memory And love you like it's the end I wish love would last forever So I could live it all again It won't always be like this

---

When Hayes told you he wanted to apologise directly to Glory Maitland, you thought that was a good idea. He’d had a pretty bad time of it since the Arraignment, which was to be expected considering all that had happened since. And now Glory was suing him. But you’d supported him through it all, because you needed to. And because he needed you too. He’d heard of a few cases very similar to the Peterson murder, and every time he did Hayes would come home and talk until he was literally too exhausted to do so any more. Once he’d received the phone call from Yune Sablo – as nearly everyone else involved in the case went off to Tennessee to sew it all up; you had half a mind to march up to Ralph Anderson about this but hadn’t yet made good on your promise to do so – that seemed to clear Terry, and put someone else in the frame, Hayes had needed to go to the Maitland’s house even more. You stood in the doorway as he called her to arrange stopping around. Glad at least that she’d agreed to such a meeting – when he’d been on the other side of this whole case. You knew that Glory would ask him a lot of hard questions, would likely tear him apart and make him feel incredibly guilty. And she had every right to do so. But Hayes was your partner, and you were still protective over him. You couldn’t be present for the conversation; however, you’d be there for him the minute he walked out of her front door. As you would be when he walked out of court – or however they decided to settle, and whenever he needed you at any other point on this journey. And maybe he wouldn’t run again, maybe this was it now. You needed to enjoy his remaining time being a District Attorney. But one thing was for sure, you would move forward together. You would face the future together, hand in hand. As you had everything else. ** This morning he asked you to drive him over, which made you fold your arms and raise an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with your car?” “Yours is neutral.” You turned around from the kitchen counter you were pouring cereal at, to the island where he was standing reading the paper “Neutral? Because it’s another County’s marked car?” “Sometime like that…” You scoffed; “If you think it will help.” “I kinda do. And I think I might need you.” “Do you think I’ll get you back in one piece?!” “Who knows? That’s why I need ya!” You smirked gently, “Is this to help her out? Would you like me to put you in handcuffs? You know – to really sell it?” Hayes glanced over his shoulder at you, unable to pretend that he didn’t know why you’d ask such a thing; “I think you do that a little too much already.” You pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek whilst you smirked, “Well then you know how to act.” “Will you stop-! This is unhelpful.” “You’re the one that wants to go for a ride in my county car…” You winked, “If you get out alive I might let you take a ride somewhere else.” He turned back to the paper clearly flustered – “Look! Will you just drive-!” You giggled to yourself, watching him – but he didn’t turn back; “Babe. Of course I will!” then taking your bowl and walking passed him you couldn’t resist the smirk as you looked back; “Would you like me to turn on the flashing lights too?” Red crossed his face as he looked up; “Y/N! No!!” ***

The drive was silent if only because he was contemplating. You didn’t know exactly why Hayes would feel the need to run the conversation through his head – he stood in the court room making speeches off the cuff all day, and was an extremely quick thinker, but you supposed for him this was different. This wasn’t a cross-examination of a witness, or a cutting sarcastic remark. This was the widow of a man Hayes had been certain was guilty; only for it to turn out he was not. And it wasn’t just any apology, Terry Maitland had died.

You took one hand off the wheel and laced your fingers with his – making him turn back to you. “I’m sure you’ve thought this through already, but remember she’s suing the office and you, babe…” “I know…” He breathed out, “It’s a shame, because there’s so much more I’d like to say, but due to that I just can’t.” “That’s why you’re thinking it over so hard.” He squeezed your hand; “Would you believe I haven’t been so nervous since the first time I stood up in court alone? Not even facing down one of my death row boys… or getting married.” “Well just make sure it doesn’t end up like your marriage, huh?” “I dunno…” He mumbled, leaning his head against the window, “I mean I guess we’re still friends.” “Babe, you don’t need to be nervous. You got this – I don’t expect her to make it easy on you… But she better not hurt you or I’ll throw hands-!” Then he laughed, turning back; “Oh, she better not hurt me? You wanna see the bruises I regularly get on my wrists-!?” “Oh,” You turned to him, voice mocking; “Poor baby – acting like he doesn’t ask for it.” Then you raised an eyebrow, “We could always stop?” Though he had a point, Hayes bruised like a peach sometimes and you had to be very careful that the marks wouldn’t show past the sleeve of his shirts. You noticed that suggestion made him go silent again, and he returned to staring at the scenery; “I’m just glad you’re here…”

When you pulled up at the Maitland’s house you turned back to him; “If anything happens, just scream – I got handcuffs and my badge.” “Ralph Anderson is gonna love that paperwork.” You scoffed; “Ralph Anderson can mind his own damn business-!” then folded your arms; “And like he wouldn’t do the same for Jeannie.” Hayes at least agreed with you there, opening the car door and stepping out; “Okay, I’ll be a minute.” “If you’re there any longer than you have to be I’m barging in-!” “You don’t need to-” “Equally if I hear anything from her I’m not opposed to leading you out in handcuffs-!” “Stop!” Still, at least he laughed; “Do you want to come with me?” “Do you need me? I mean honey, I think you need to do this alone, right?” You frowned, still sure it was better to stay out of it, even if for legal reasons. “No, you’re right – I think I’ll be fine.” You nodded, “I’ll be right outside. Good luck.” He leant across to kiss your cheek but you turned at the last second and caught his lips; “…And be a good boy.” “I will.” Hayes’ voice was gentle as he straightened and closed the door. You watched him for a moment with a small smile on your face as he fixed his tie, and his hair, and brushed his suit smooth before crossing the road and taking the steps up to her house.

 ***

 For a little while you sat to check work messages and listened to music with the windows rolled down. It has been a pretty hot spring into summer, that much was for sure, but after a while you decided to stretch your legs a little and stand outside the car in the fresh air. It also meant you could sun yourself; and there was a nice breeze to accompany it.

You knew this was probably awkward for him – heck he’d prepared about as hard for this as he ever did for cases. But you hoped it would be amicable, no matter how strange for both of them it was – he probably deserved shouting and screaming and being cussed out, but still – Hayes was just doing his job, and you hoped Glory might forgive him for that. He would exonerate Terry at his next conference, and then his innocence would be fact, his name cleared. You knew that things would never go back to normal after that, but you hoped they’d be better. It wouldn’t always be as bad as things looked right now...

The front door opened, placing you on alert again, and your head raised. They nodded to each other, but no words were spoken as he stepped out and she closed the door. At least Hayes looked intact. You smiled, uncrossing your legs and straightening up – he didn’t have so far to walk back to you but with the burning questions you had every step was agony.

Only when he’d closed their front gate did Kenneth Hayes breathe a deep sigh of relief, his eyes raised and when they met yours, he really did smile. “How’d it go?” Your voice was soft as he crossed the road, he moved in close, hands to your arms “…About as good as it could have…” “So you said it, all of it?” “Everything I can legally. When the lawsuit is over… I’ll be able to say what I really want…” His voice broke a little and Hayes rubbed his eyes with a sniff. Your brows knitted as your head tipped – had he cried? You supposed this was emotional for everyone, so it didn’t really surprise you. You reached up and cupped his face – bringing him back to you “And I know you will.” You nodded encouragingly, “It’s almost over, babe, and I’m proud of you for doing this. You didn’t have to.” Faint blush crossed his cheeks at the word proud, yet he smiled thankfully – “It was the right thing to do.” “It was.” You agreed, moving your fingers to lace with his, “Now, Mr. District Attorney, may I give you a police escort home?” He laughed, as more single tears escaped and he had to wipe them away again – “I’d kinda like to take my escort for lunch, I mean I didn’t really eat, considering-” He nodded back to the house “Lunch out?” You smiled gently, “Okay, I accept your lunch date proposal, however,” You tsked him “You should know better than to tell me you didn’t eat, darling, that won’t get you anything you want.” You leant up to brush your lips to his, “Even though, I mean it – I’m extremely proud of you…” He pulled away to thank you again, but you couldn’t resist pulling him to you by his tie to kiss him harder, forcing Hayes to steady himself against the car. You released him as if nothing had happened, and walked around to the driver’s side, leaving him to shake his head and slide in. “One thing…” You chuckled, as you belted in and started the engine – looking back to the house once more with a smile – it was nearly over… You’d probably end up giving Glory a big hug afterwards – it wasn’t something you’d been able to do yet, and it felt very odd. “Go on?” “You only assume I don’t want whatever you’re gonna do about the fact that I didn’t eat this morning.” His look was meaningful and you couldn’t help but smirk. “Careful, babe,” You patted your hip, pulling the patrol car away from the curb, “I’ve still got handcuffs.”

---

Thank you for reading about the DA Bae! 😊🙏