#Documenting Detroit

[husshow]

“you ok?” wings @ hawks 12/6/24

[moeblob]

follow up to this

[incomprehensible-phasmid]

Kara in a cap

[detroitlib]

Cover detail from "The Seeds of Artificial Intelligence." SUMEX-AIM U.S. Department of HEW. 1980.

[brookebitch69]

My pals skating

[walkingdetroit]

A beautiful day for a bus ride! I heard about the #DocumentersOnTheBus assignment last fall from David at Transit Guide Detroit but couldn’t get to an orientation in time. Since then, I joined Detroit Documenters to cover government meetings throughout the city and was so excited they brought Documenters on the Bus back for year two! How lucky am I to get to cover my home route!

Next June I’ll be celebrating 10 years car-free, so needless to say public transit accessibility is one of my biggest passions, and one of the reasons I moved to Detroit- to show the Motor City how to reduce their carbon footprint and live happily without a car. Shout out to Bobby, my awesome driver. 10/28/23

[crossbackpoke-check]

I have to ask about good dog bad dream <3

🥰🥰 oh i was HOPING for this one. ok so y’all may actually know a little bit already because it exists in the tags as tyler borzoituzzi but! good dog bad dream is the working document title/notes compilation for a fic that started with the premise of “well you see that’s actually not a dog that’s my blorbo from my hrpf shifter wolf au—”

and, because i have never formally addressed it or put it anywhere other than the tags, three important details about this fic:

this IS a semi-au fic about the detroit red wings, set vaguely in the 2018-19 season, because the wings sucked that year (but not as bad as 2019-20)

this is ALSO a fic that is mainly about tyler bertuzzi and dylan larkin, with some other wings thrown in because i've never met an ensemble i couldn't shove into a love story

this 100% exists because of mickey redmond calling tyler a junkyard dog every chance he gets and me every time going "okay but what if literally though" -> 🐺

[nightpool]

If you are an auditor, and you call up the chief financial officer of the company you are auditing and ask “hey when is a convenient time for me to come to your office to review the books,” and he replies “no, no office, parking lot,” and you say “okay I’ll drive to your office and you’ll come down—” and he says “oh no, not our parking lot, a different parking lot,” and you meet him in a parking lot 40 miles from his office, and he hands you printouts of the financial statements and drives away, how should you begin your audit? Which of the financial statements is most likely to contain red flags or discrepancies to be addressed? I feel like the answer is “the parking lot”? If I were auditing those financial statements, most of my questions would not be about technical accounting matters but “why are we meeting in a parking lot again?”

Here is a story about the CFO of the Detroit Riverfront Conservancy, William Smith, who was arrested last week for allegedly stealing $40 million from the nonprofit:

"Mr. Smith’s grip on the nonprofit’s finances was so tight that even the nonprofit’s accountant, charged with tracking spending, could not log into one of the group’s bank accounts. Only Mr. Smith had the password. He gave her the bank statements on paper and met her only four times a year, in the parking lot of a Honey Baked Ham store 40 miles from the office. […]

"Brian Mittendorf, a professor who studies nonprofit accounting at Ohio State University, said that the conservancy’s official documents show that it took steps to safeguard its finances — including oversight from its board of directors and annual audits.

"‘All these things sound as if it’s an organization with a pretty robust review in place. On the other hand, only one person can access the money, and provides paper copies in a Honey Baked Ham parking lot?’ Mr. Mittendorf said. ‘Those sound like the opposite of a robust governance mechanism.’"

As it happens, Smith allegedly altered the bank statements by “[removing] the payments to himself and [replacing] them with fake payments to other vendors.” I still don’t fully understand the parking lot, though? Like you can meet the accountant in your office to hand over the doctored paper financial statements; just unplug your computer first. I just feel like meeting in the parking lot sends a pretty strong message of “I AM DOING CRIME” that you might want to avoid, if you are doing crime.

[alwaysbewoke]

Jean-Baptiste Pointe DuSable was born in Saint-Domingue, Haiti (French colony) during the Haitian Revolution. At some point he settled in the part of North America that is now known as the city of Chicago and was described in historical documents as "a handsome negro" He married a Native American woman, Kitiwaha, and they had two children. In 1779, during the American Revolutionary War, he was arrested by the British on suspicion of being an American Patriot sympathizer. In the early 1780s he worked for the British lieutenant-governor of Michilimackinac on an estate at what is now the city of St. Clair, Michigan north of Detroit. In the late 1700's, Jean-Baptiste was the first person to establish an extensive and prosperous trading settlement in what would become the city of Chicago. Historic documents confirm that his property was right at the mouth of the Chicago River. Many people, however, believe that John Kinzie (a white trader) and his family were the first to settle in the area that is now known as Chicago, and it is true that the Kinzie family were Chicago's first "permanent" European settlers. But the truth is that the Kinzie family purchased their property from a French trader who had purchased it from Jean-Baptiste. He died in August 1818, and because he was a Black man, many people tried to white wash the story of Chicago's founding. But in 1912, after the Great Migration, a plaque commemorating Jean-Baptiste appeared in downtown Chicago on the site of his former home. Later in 1913, a white historian named Dr. Milo Milton Quaife also recognized Jean-Baptiste as the founder of Chicago. And as the years went by, more and more Black notables such as Carter G. Woodson and Langston Hughes began to include Jean-Baptiste in their writings as "the brownskin pioneer who founded the Windy City." In 2009, a bronze bust of Jean-Baptiste was designed and placed in Pioneer Square in Chicago along the Magnificent Mile. There is also a popular museum in Chicago named after him called the DuSable Museum of African American History.

x

[teameagleworks]

Today was a very good day.

We went to tour Michigan Central Station, and it was spectacular. This train station was the main transit hub in Detroit from 1914 to 1988. If you aren't from here, it's important that you know it was owned by a local billionaire who just let it rot. It was in horrible shape, flooded, every window broken, and pillaged of all of its relics.

But, while it was a sad broken building, it was also home to tons of amazing graffiti art. Ford bought the building in 2018 and began a huge undertaking of restoring it. I could write pages about all the amazing restoration. Thousands of people put in millions of hours. I figured all the graffiti was lost to the renovation.

I was so excited to see that they saved an entire hallway of the original artwork, and I saw this exhibit today.

Here is the text if it's hard to read:

GRAFFITI PRESERVATION

From 1988 to 2018, Michigan Central Station became an important location for graffiti artists who made the building their canvas. There was great respect for the graffiti found in The Station, including early work from Detroit's own Fel3000ft- who says he learned and honed his craft here - and many other prominent artists.

As The Station changed hands, previous owners took steps to remove the graffiti, in some instances damaging the building's walls through improper cleaning techniques. Under Ford's ownership, the significance of this art was not lost on the restoration team. Local artists helped to assess each piece and to ascribe credit to the creators of the graffiti art where possible. The College of Creative Studies documented the work for archival purposes Italian Renaissance art experts who specialize in fresco preservation advised on how best to remove panels of fragile plaster for safekeeping

The guidelines for landmark restoration required that The Station be returned to its original state, but it was important to the team that some of the art remain in place to preserve this chapter of the building's life. They successfully argued for permission to keep some of the graffiti intact, and as you leave through the southeast exit, you will find a hallway where some original graffiti remains.

I love this vibrant city, and I'm excited that if we have to have everything owned by billionaires, that we switched this building to one who has reverence for Detroit and all that makes it beautiful.

[t-a-a-1]

More Than Meets The Eye

TFA Optimus! X F!Reader

6k

Summary: Being a rising journalist is difficult. Especially when you have to live a secret criminal life. Things get worst when you start to fall in love with your enemy, Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots and hero of Detroit City.

You believe the feelings can't be mutual. Yet, he slowly starts to notice that you are more than meets the eye.

A/N: Lots of yearning. Jealously. Enemies to lovers?? You are a journalist who is also a criminal. Idk. Takes place between Season 1 and 2 of TFA.

Chapter 1: Ride or Die

....

Detroit City could be ugly, nasty, unhygienic, gentrified and many other things.

But never boring.

Especially with robotic aliens patrolling the streets.

    Bots that you didn't trust fully nor liked very much.

Even more, that Optimus Prime that everyone seemed to like so much.

With his red and blue colors, his helm that looks like he is always wearing a cap and straight posture that was too authoritative for your liking.

    While everyone was excited, taking pictures of the Autobots, you were there to ask the real questions. Your job as a reporter was to tell the truth and that's what you plan to do by exposing the leader of the Autobots.

"Mr. Prime, I have a question for you."

    You raised your hand, not really sure if that matters but you wanted to keep being respectful.

"Oh, yes, how can I help you, ma'am?"

    Optimus sees you walk through the crowd of people and paparazzi. Press conferences weren't unknown to him. The citizens, the reporters, the speechless mayor and his assistant that probably did everything for him.

"I've done some research and Detroit's oil supply has plummeted since your arrival to Earth. This has created a tax increase for all of Detroit's citizens. How do you respond to this?"

"Well, we do need to eat to keep helping the city," Optimus bends down to be able to speak on the mic. "But we apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused."

"If you were sorry you and your team would have already found all  the fragments of the AllSpark and departed Earth."

"How do you know about–?"

    You didn't let him finish his question as you striked with another statement.

"But no, you and the Autobots are too focused on wasting Earth's resources and playing heroes to even think of recovering your world's most powerful energy source."

"What? No, we–"

    He keeps getting interrupted by you. Although he tries to keep his cool, he wasn't in the best of moods either. Each statement you were making was ticking off his clock.

"Without mentioning that you have been spotted entering nearby natural reservation islands without the proper permissions or documentation."

"Well, yes but I thought it was fine–"

"Why would it be fine?" You look up at him. Even when you weren't very fond of the alien robots, you had to admit that they were a spectacle to look at. But you quickly shook the thought away.  "Just because you are big and dangerous you think you are entitled to cross human law?"

"Look missy, I don't know what's your problem but–"

"My problem is that you are not answering my questions."

    There's a bit of laughter coming from behind Optimus. If he had been smart enough, he could've said something along the lines of 'you aren't asking any questions, you are just saying statements.' Instead, he lashes out on you, giving you the exact reaction you wanted.

"If only you gave me time, I would respond to them!" Seeing his mistake, Optimus stands away from the pod, clearly frustrated at the situation.  "You know what, we don't have the time for this."

    Smiling Autobots was the first thing he saw as soon as he turned to look at them. He ex-vents, not wanting to deal with it.

"Autobots, transform and roll out."

.

.

.

    The abandoned building had become their home. It was big enough to have rooms for everyone. Each catering for every bot's needs. But not even the vastness of the building could sparse the leader's rising annoyance. Walking from side to side of the hangar, looking down and with a servo on his chin, he questioned the previous interaction.

    He doesn't remember seeing you before. Either that or your existence wasn't important enough for his processor to remember.

"How did that lady know about the AllSpark?" Optimus keeps walking as Bumblebee and Sari play video games on the sofa. "We haven't told anyone about the fragments."

    Hearing something being dropped, Optimus quickly turns to look at the little girl who has taken long-term residence at their base.

"Sari?" Optimus questions, getting closer to her. "Is there anything you want to say?"

"Sorry, I thought yall were going to release that information to the public soon," she plays with her thumbs, moving them in a circle in between her hands. "So, I thought, why not sell the information to a reporter? Save you guys the time!"

"Why would you do that?"

    Bumblebee questions her, he didn't know about her actions either.

"Because I need the money! If I don't have money, I can't afford food. If I don't eat, I'll die!" Sari feels threatened, especially when she sees the rest of the bots gathering around her. "And all my credit cards have been frozen ever since my dad disappeared."

    It was as if everyone had a spoken agreement. Her explanation was a very good one. Feeling shy and maybe like a burden to them, she did what any little girl would. As best as she could with the current circumstances. No one was angry at her, just worried for what this could bring to the team.

"What else have you told her?"

    Prowl asks this time, sounding as calm as ever.

"Nothing, I promise!" Sari exclaimed. "Actually, ever since I told her about my situation, she never fails to send me some money in the mail."

"Probably to gain your trust so you could later tell her more information about us," Ratchet always assumed the worst of people. A trait that no one could blame. Being a war-veteran, distrusting others was the best for survival.

"I don't think so, she just sends money. No notes, no letters, nothing."

"Whatever the situation is, we can't have her spreading misinformation about us," Bulkhead is the last to speak his mind.

"She wasn't lying, bulkhead," Optimus remembers your statements. Each of them had truth in them. "She was right. We did everything she said we did."

    As much as he wanted to reprimand the little girl, he couldn't do it. Instead he takes a few seconds to think.

"But we can't have her writing negative articles about us," he says as he takes a moment to look at his very little friend. "Especially if we plan to ask for some monetary compensation for Sari."

    He really didn't want to ask for any kind of payment from the humans. Everything he did, he did in the name of goodness and to further improve Cybertronian-Human diplomatic relationships. But Sari was part of the team and his duty as leader was to take care of everyone. And she was a helpless little girl. He needs to take care of her properly and for that he needs human currency. Not much, just whatever is needed for a human to survive. Food, maybe clothes? Water. Oxygen? Medication ... Education? Did she need that? He is not sure but maybe Sari could make him a list later.

For now, there is a reporter he needs to find.

.

.

.

    You weren't new to doing undercover work. You enjoyed it, pretending to be someone else, getting the information you needed, then going home as if you had lived another life.

    Tonight, it was one of those nights. Where you wore heels, a skirt and a revealing top. Loose hair and lip gloss and a wing to cover your real hair color.

    During the day you were a reporter. Tonight you were a car enthusiast.

"So, would you take me?"

"A beautiful car needs a beautiful woman,"

    You had been talking with a man for fifteen minutes. It's stupid how easy it was to get a man. Just listening to them talk for ten minutes straight without talking usually does the trick.

"And you know, racing is not the only thing I am good at."

    Smiling, not because of his suggestive comment but because you were about to get what you wanted, you were about to make your way inside the car.

    Until bright lights pointing at you ruined the moment.

"What does that freak want?"

    There is a loud sound of engine coming from the large truck. Although the light was bright, you could see a few shades of blue and red.

"This is the police, stand down."

"Shit."

    The man who you were talking to didn't hesitate to turn on his car and speed up. Letting off a train of fumes and leaving you behind.

    Great, now you had to explain that you weren't a hooker but an undercover reporter to the officer.

    Except that this wasn't a cop. It wasn't even a person. But a driverless car. A bot you tragically knew too well.

"So you have come for your revenge after today's press conference?" you ask sarcastically as you begin to walk away. You raised your hand and waved from side to side."Well, you got it. Now leave me alone."

    You can hear the little 'click and clack' of your heels as they impact against the concrete ground. But close by you can still hear the roaring engines. Headlights were still pretty bright and you wondered if he understood human cues. Because this just looks like some guy harassing a woman.

"Not even a 'thank you' for saving you from that guy?" Optimus follows as he drives next to you. "I thought you would be more educated."

"Well, I didn't ask you to save me," you wanted to take bigger steps but you've been walking for so long with your heels that you can't do it anymore. "Is butting into other people's business an Autobot costume?"

"Look I am not going to fall into your tactics," he says. "I just came to say that I think we started off with the wrong pede."

"Oh? Really? Why do you think that?"

"Well, for starters, I think you have the wrong ideas about us," Optimus takes a closer look at you. Wearing a different style than what you wore this morning. "Yes you are right, sometimes we don't do the right thing. But we are new here and we don't know any better."

"So you should be excused for all actions just because of your ignorance?" you feel like you are being observed. Not in a desirable manner but rather a curious one. Optimus didn't have 'eyes' but optics. His vision is probably more enhanced, being a bot and all.  "Is that what you are saying?"

"No, I am saying that maybe you could try and understand us and be more ... lenient whenever you write about us."

"And why would I do that?" you began to feel self conscious. Miniskirts weren't your thing, you liked them but Optimus heavy optics on you wasn't the most comfortable. Maybe it was all your imagination. Besides, you doubted that Optimus could feel attraction towards a human. "Are you going to hurt me if I don't?"

"What? No!"

    You stop walking and suddenly turn to look at him.

"Then I won't change anything."

    He doesn't want to think about it too much but he feels his something inside him short-circuit. Now, he realized he had been staring at you for too long. Particularly interested in your skin. As far as he knows metal and skin don't react the same way to cold. Your material being more sensitive to climate change. He was studying you and all he concluded is that you were cold.

"Why do you care so much about what we do and don't? How does it even affect you?" his engines roar louder.  "We help the humans with crime, cleaning the streets, repairing buildings and other humiliating things without any type of compensation but I don't see you writing about that stuff!"

"Do you know what happens when you and your crew destroy a building?"

"The city repairs it."

"Yes, they do," you walk towards him, aggressively placing your hands on his door. His truck form was too large for you to reach his window. It's not like you were planning to punch him but rather make your point. "But who's money do they use to repair those damages?"

    He stays quiet and you proceed.

"The people's money," using your index finger, you keep poking at him each time you make a statement. "Ever since you and your Autobots got here, things have become way more expensive. Food, gas, bills. There are families who will be homeless because they can't afford to pay rent. All because the city is raising taxes to pay for all the damages you cause."

    His headlights blink every time you keep touching him, with every word that escapes your lips.

"It's already hard enough being a journalist in Detroit and now I have to focus on surviving too. I need to contribute good stories to the newsroom or I won't even have money to buy cigarettes."

    Then, you point off into the distance, the road is clear but dark. Only the city lights illuminated the path but everything had an eerie feel to it .

"And that guy you just scared off? He was my ticket to have a warm meal tonight and you ruined it for me."

    You take your hands off him. His headlights stop blinking.

"So, I am sorry. I am sorry I won't write about how the Autobots are Detroit's heroes and how good they are because they pick up some cans."

    You walk away. Now thinking of whether to spend your last $20 bucks on food or a taxi to take you home.

    At least you can't hear the roaring engine anymore.

As he sees you struggle to keep walking, Optimus notices your shivering. How you tried to cover your backside with your bag and how ever so often your stomach would quietly growl. Although he wasn't an expert on human biology, he knew that meant you were hungry.

    He remembers your words and then Sari's. Although you were struggling to survive, you still somehow managed to help out Sari. A job he is supposed to be doing but failing miserably.

"I– " he drives up to you again. For a second, he doesn't have anything to say. Apologizing won't help you in any way. "Is there any way I can help?"

"Well, unless you can transform into a racing car and take me to do some illegal car racing, I don't think so."

    Behind you, you hear metal shifting. Driving next to you is blue and red ... Corvette? Camaro? Ferrari? You didn't know a single thing about cars but the only thing you knew is that it was a nice looking car. Dynamic, elegant and shiny. Hot and sexy. And a beautiful car needs a beautiful girl.

"Anything else?"

.

.

.

    It was 3 a.m.

A dark and isolated road on the outskirts of Detroit will be witness to your first car racing. You didn't know a single thing about cars and much less racing. But thankfully for you, your racer is a car. He should know better ... right?

    As a reporter you are supposed to blend in with the crow but with Optimus, you knew that was impossible. All eyes were on you as soon as you drove by the starting line. Wondering who had just joined the car racing scene.

"Everyone is here ... Can't we just arrest them?"

"No, I am not the police.  I am just here to report on things. To inform people this is happening."

You look around the vehicle, there was technology that Earth didn't have. There wasn't a single thing you could understand. Getting nervous, you tried to get some fresh air. Clicking a few random buttons, you hear Optimus make a few displeased growls.

"Would you stop that? You know you are touching my body, right?"

    You quickly stop, not knowing how to feel about being inside a mechanic alien.

"Can you lower the windows then? I am starting to feel a little claustrophobic."

    Optimus does as you told him and now you get a clearer view of your sides. To your right there is a white Camaro with black racing stripes. To your left, a red and white car. The fancy type which brand you didn't know nor care.

"Hey beautiful, when I win let's make out in the back of my car!"

    Hearing that comment, you tell Optimus to roll up the windows again. He quickly didn't hesitate to ask questions.

"What is make out?"

    You see another woman stand in front of the car. Holding a red handkerchief. Extremely beautiful and thin, she made walking in heels look easy. The cars start their engines and you start regretting this.

"If we win this, I'll show you."

"What do we get if we win anyway?"

    Looking at the steering wheel, you think about holding it but then again Optimus seems very decided for you not to touch him. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you shake the thought off your head.

"I get a good story and three thousand dollars."

"Can I have some of that money? For Sari, of course."

"Absolutely but," you look around the car, trying to look for the seatbelt. The race was about to start and you couldn't find it. "Where is the seat-"

    But the race had started, Optimus didn't listen as he sped though the road. You abruptly lay back on the seat. Making mental notes about the situation. The racers, the rules, the cars, the place.

You wished you could enjoy the excitement of the race ... if it only wasn't that your life was held by a threat.

As Optimus makes an abrupt turn, you move from one seat to the other. Almost doing a complete 360.    

"Would you care to drive more carefully?!"

    You rub your head. Feeling like a small bump on the back, you are thankful the windows are tinted dark. No one can see your humiliating falling and bumping into Optimus windows and door.

"Don't you want to win, missy?"

"I can only win if I get to the finishing line ALIVE!"

    As if he wasn't hearing you, he makes another aggressive movement. This time you end up side down, with your head on the feet rest and your legs on the passenger seat.

"THAT'S IT! I AM DRIVING!"

    You straighten up and quickly put your hands on the steering wheel, taking control of the alien mech.

"Hey, missy! Hands off the steering wheel!!"

"I'll do that when you learn how to drive!"

    You fought against his strength, as he moved himself to the opposite side. It wasn't often that you fought against an alien but if your life wasn't in danger you wouldn't do so. Watching all the cars passing by was also alarming, you weren't only going to die but also lose.

"I'll have you know my driving skills have been renowned by the Elite Guard!"

"I don't give a f–"

    He lost control, as you did. The screeching tires against the pavement could be heard as the rubber of them burned. You couldn't react as Optimus crashes against a pine tree. Hitting your head against the steering wheel, you thought you might get a concussion. However, you get enough strength to get out of the car and walk a few meters away from him. It wasn't until all the racing cars had passed you that Optimus transformed back to his robot form.

"I just got a new paint job and a polish!"

    He says as he sees some scratches on his body.

"And you almost killed me!" you put a hand on your head, it hurts as if your whole brain was pulsating. Your sight is dizzy and your body is weak. "I knew it, I knew this wouldn't work out and I still trusted you."

"We wouldn't be here if you had only kept your hands to yourself."

"No, we wouldn't be here if only you had a goddamn seatbelt?!"

    Optimus was also frustrated with the situation. Now he is too far behind to win the race and he needed the money to buy food for Sari. Not only that but after tonight he is going to have to give explanations to the rest of his team. He is probably gonna be made fun of for not having a 'leader-behavior' and they were right. Because why was he here? At first, he just wanted to help you. But it seems you don't want to nor appreciate his effort.

"And why would I? I don't let humans inside me," he points at you, unaware of your delicate state.  "Besides it's not my fault your body is so weak."

"Well, for someone who is supposed to protect life, you certainly do a great," there is clear sarcasm in your voice. You probably shouldn't be fighting against a giant robot but if he were to squish you right now, he would be doing you a favor.

"I don't even know why you are on Earth if you don't even like humans."

"Oh, I like humans, I just don't like you."

"Well, the feeling is mutual."

    You take off your heels and start walking back on the cold pavement. Feeling cold everywhere, you wonder what is going to kill you first. Hypothermia or brain damage.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"We are on the outskirts of the city, you'll get home by the next solar cycle if you walk."

    As much as Optimus dislikes you, he wouldn't let a lady walk alone at night.

"Let me take you home."

"No," now it hurts to breathe. You probably got a few injuries but you tried to hide the pain. The last thing you wanted was to confirm Prime's idea that you were weak. You were, but he didn't have to know. "Just leave me alone."

"Does your pride have no end?" Optimus' words weren't helping either. "Just come inside–"

    He was going to keep talking until he noticed that you had stopped walking. He sees you put a hand on your head and the other on your stomach.

    Suddenly, you lose balance and he quickly reaches a servo out to catch you. He had assumed that most humans should be warm. The coldness of your body was not common. Analyzing you, he sees that you are still breathing but unconscious. You are small on his servo and he feels as though he needs to cover you.

Maybe, you were right ... he should have let you drive.

.

.

.

    There were many questions in Ratchet's processor. But seeing Optimus' worried face restrained his voice box from instigating the Prime.

"I am not an expert in human biology but my analysis says that she is dehydrated and malnourished. She probably hasn't eaten in days."

    Ratchet sees you in the medical berth. In a deep sleep and weakend, he doesn't know when you will wake up.

"Don't you think it would have been better to take her to a human medical center?"

"I thought about it but while I was driving, she woke up momentarily and asked me not to take her there."

    Optimus had assumed that the reason you didn't want to go to a 'hospital' was due that maybe you didn't have a means to pay for it. The thought alone made him spark ache, he didn't understand why humans would charge for a basic right.

"Well then, make yourself useful and bring her some warm human fuel," Ratchet says. "And maybe some human clothes with more fabric or a blanket."

    Optimus nods, but there is hesitancy. He doesn't move and Ratchet catches on this. His optics are on you as if studying you. Most obvious, there is guilt and worry. He takes a closer look at him. Some part of his paint was ripped off and his metal was scratched.

"Did anything of importance happen?"

"I tried to help her with something but things didn't occur as I planned them."

    There was something he was keeping to himself.

"Did anything else happen?"

"It's just ...," he pauses and the longer he looks at you, the more Ratchet wonders. He has known the boy for some time now. He has seen him at his best and at his worst but this is different. It's like he wants to say or do  something but he can't. Either because he is too timid or because he can't find the right words. But Optimus' eloquence was known through all of Cybertron.

"It's nothing."

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.

.

    The smell of chicken noodle soup wakes up. It is an unknown place but you feel warm. Much more than your cold, small apartment. It was a bright room, and underneath was a red, giant medical bed. A white blanket covers your body and the face of a little girl stares right at you.

"Hi!"

    You slowly stand up, your head still hurting but at least you were alive.

"Hey, kid."

    You take a better look at the place around you. At least it wasn't a hospital and for that you were thankful.

"I am Sari! And you must be (Y/N)? We exchanged Autobot information before?"

    The girl was smiling, excited to see you. By hearing her name, you immediately knew what she was referring to. A few weeks ago, you had received a letter from someone, you assumed that it was a kid due to the wacky handwriting and simple vocabulary. Nonetheless, this kid was selling Autobot information to you, some things valuable, others not so much. After learning the truth behind the kid, you decided to help her as much as you could.

"I am guessing this is the secret base of the Autobots?"

    You ask the obvious. You didn't find any other logical explanation as to why there would be such big beds and medical equipment.

"Yeah ... Please, don't tell anyone," Sari says. "Or Optimus is gonna have to threaten you."

"Well, I would like to see him try," you give the little girl a head pat. "But I promise I won't say a word, just because you ask me to."

    This would have been valuable information if it wasn't due that it didn't matter anymore. You were supposed to have a story by today and the only thing you have is a headache. Another day, another non-existent payment. You are gonna have to get used to eating air at this point.

"You should eat," Sari puts the bowl of soup closer to you. "Optimus made it for you and I helped, of course."

    After hearing his name, you quickly turn to look at the little girl. You could tell she was telling the truth but she also had a mischievous smile.

"Is there something you want to ask me?"   

    You weren't about to make a meal go to waste. Picking up the spoon, you start to dig in. It wasn't bad and you wonder if Optimus actually helped at all because you can't imagine someone who is unable to taste human food, being able to make something this good.

"Well, I was wondering ... Will you be staying with us from now on?"

"No," you simply say, too concentrated in eating to think properly. "Why are you asking that?"

"Well, do you want to?"

"Thanks for the offer but I don't think the Autobots would like me here."

"But I can get so lonely sometimes!" Sari puts puppy eyes on her face and you have to admit that it was slowly working. "I need a friend."

"You can still write to me if you would like."

"That's not enough ..."

    Suddenly, you heard loud and big steps approaching from behind you. You didn't want to think about it. If you don't see it, it's not real. But then you hear mechanics moving and you are sure that if you were to turn around, you'll find a very unpleasant faceplate.

"Sari, do not overwhelm our guests," Optimus says. "She's still recovering."

"Don't mind me, I was just leaving."

    Like an animal, you drink the last of your soup and put it next to you.

"Hey um ... About last night, I ..." He pauses and struggles with his words. "I wanted to apologize–"

"No need."

    You stand up and let the white blanket covering you slip off your body. It gets cold immediately and you are tempted to ask if you can stay with the blanket.

"Wait! If you really need to, you can stay here,"

"And become your charity project? No, thank you."

    His faceplate was still very close to yours. Now you can take a closer look at his optics.  You didn't want to admit it but they were quite beautiful. A type of blue not found on Earth. Maybe not even in the entire universe. It was unique to him and you were a bit jealous of his own individuality.

"I am just trying to help."

"I think you have helped enough," you weren't about to fall for his kindness. It was his own stubbornness that put you in this situation. That and that you haven't taken care of yourself properly but he doesn't have to know that. "If I let you help me again, then I'll for sure die."

"If only you would put your pride away, we could help each other–"

"You want to help me? Why? Because you like me? Or to subside your guilt?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"The right thing to do?"  You can't stand his righteousness. Pretending to be this all-good creature when you know that can't be. How good can he be when he is the cause of your misfortunes? Not only yours but to a lot of more people. The worst part of it all is that he doesn't seem to want to do anything about it. "Why don't you start by leaving my planet first then?"

    Optimus stares at you and you look back at him. It was a few seconds but to you it lasted minutes.

    He doesn't say anything but slowly moves apart from you and walks away.

You turn to look at Sari who was still sitting close by.

"Sorry you had to see that kid."

"It's alright, but can I tell you something?"

    You didn't want to be here. The sun was probably about to rise and you just wanted to go home. But you couldn't say no to the girl, she seemed too sweet and her situation was still lamentable. You nod, confirming for Sari to continue.

"I've known Optimus for a time now and I can tell you that he is not very well-versed with the ladies," she says.  "He rescued a woman once and she asked for his phone number."

    Tilting you heard, a lot of things crossed your mind. You have so many questions, especially about the kind of woman who would want a machine as something more than a friend.

"And what happened?"

"He gave it to her and she texted him," she raised a small hand, pointing up. "The text said 'Do you think I am pretty?"

"And Optimus texted back saying 'I think you look soft and squeezable. And she never texted back."

    You stopped yourself from laughing. Although a small smile left your lips. You look away for a second and then look back at the young girl.

"Optimus is good at hiding his feelings but you can tell he was sad she never texted him back."

"Why are you telling me this?"

    You finally ask, curious about the story but mostly about Sari's intentions.

"Just so you know that he can be an idiot sometimes but he has a good heart ... Well, spark," Sari's voice becomes more gentle and this caught your attention. This wasn't supposed to be a funny story and now you feel a bit shameful for laughing.

"And I think he just doesn't know how to tell you that."

.

.

.

The sun was starting to come out.

You took off your heels for a little bit until the cold pavement was too much to handle for your skin.

    You weren't expecting for things to go this way. Wanting to start a new life, away from everything. It was all going smoothly until they arrived. Now you find yourself on a bench, cold and hungry. Waiting for the first bus to take you home.

How much longer did you have to endure?

    You cover your face, ashamed of yourself. Of every decision you have made in your life. This is your reality now. About to be kicked out of your apartment, without a stable job and nowhere to go. No one to talk to.

Your cellphone rings.

    Not recognizing the phone number on the screen, you were hesitant to answer but lastly, you picked it up, things can't get worse anyways.

"It was harder to get a hold of you than I thought."

You recognized that voice.

"But I am glad you are doing fine. How's the city life treating you?"

"How did you find me?"

    You ask as you look around you. No one was out yet. Just a few cars passed by and the tweets of birds could be heard.

"That doesn't matter. I called thinking you may be interested in a job."

"I am not. No matter what you say, I won't go back there."

"Are you sure? I can send you over the first half of the payment right now."

You were in desperate need. He knows that and is taking advantage of that. Your instincts  were begging you to say yes. To just do one more job, to get enough food to survive for a little while until you can get back on your feet. But ...

"I appreciate the offer. But I have to decline."

    There is a long pause.

"We'll keep in touch."

.

.

.

"Still thinking about that woman?"

    When Ratchet says things like that, it's difficult not to notice the subtle hits in his voice box.

"Perhaps."

    Ratchet can tell many things from the Prime's actions. He wasn't drinking his fuel and in deep thought. At least he wasn't denying the question.

"I am sure you'll see her again," Ratchet says as he pat's Optimus' shoulder plate. "Next time ask for her number."

"It's not like that."

    His cheeks have a slight blue. Very minimal but Ratchet knows better than that.

It was a lively evening in the Autobot's base. With Bumblebee and Sari playing video games while Prowl and Bulkhead stand next to them. Optimus and Ratchet usually watch from the sidelines, never participating but just treasuring the tranquility of the moment.

"If it's not that then what is it?"

"I just ..."

    Optimus hesitates not because he didn't want to tell Ratchet but because he couldn't understand his own feelings. Was it guilt? Curiosity? It's strange and yet both emotions are something he wishes to not feel. He should be worrying about the things he can fix, people he can help.

He shouldn't think about you.

About yesterday night. About the drive back to the base. You laid on his seat, unconscious. Yet you mustered the strength to say three simple words.

"Don't leave me."

And just like that. His spark ached.

Damn you.

    He doesn't have time for this. For all he cares, he hopes to never see you again.

Because how dare you play with his feelings like that?

"I'm going for a drive."

    There was nothing else to do but ride or die.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: Here is a new story I am working on. It was really fun to write this. Thank you for all the support you have given me this far! I'll continue to write. For any ideas, comments, concerns, comments you can always message me/or inbox me here. Thank you. Also sorry for any mistakes I made. I don't proof read. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and I'll be answering comments soon!

See you in the next story!

Next:

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/772695486936301568/more-than-meets-the-eye?source=share

[socialjusticeinamerica]

DENVER (AP) — A Colorado man is facing possible bias-motivated charges for allegedly attacking a television news reporter after demanding to know whether he was a citizen, saying “This is Trump’s America now,” according to court documents.

Patrick Thomas Egan, 39, was arrested Dec. 18 in Grand Junction, Colorado, after police say he followed KKCO/KJCT reporter Ja’Ronn Alex’s vehicle for around 40 miles (64 kilometers) from the Delta area. Alex told police that he believed he had been followed and attacked because he is Pacific Islander.

After arriving in Grand Junction, Egan, who was driving a taxi, pulled up next to Alex at a stoplight and, according to an arrest affidavit, said something to the effect of: “Are you even a U.S. citizen? This is Trump’s America now! I’m a Marine and I took an oath to protect this country from people like you!”

Alex, who had been out reporting, then drove back to his news station in the city. After he got out of his vehicle, Egan chased Alex as he ran toward the station’s door and demanded to see his identification, according to the document laying out police’s evidence in the case. Egan then tackled Alex, put him in a headlock and “began to strangle him,” the affidavit said. Coworkers who ran out to help and witnesses told police that Alex appeared to be losing his ability to breathe during the attack, which was partially captured on surveillance video, according to the document.

According to the station’s website, Alex is a native of Detroit. KKCO/KJCT reported that he was driving a news vehicle at the time.

Egan was arrested on suspicion of bias-motivated crimes, second degree assault and harassment. He is scheduled to appear in court Thursday to learn whether prosecutors have filed formal charges against him.

Egan’s lawyer, Ruth Swift, was out of the office Friday and did not return a telephone message seeking comment.

KKCO/KJCT vice president and general manager Stacey Stewart said the station could not comment beyond what it has reported on the attack.

🤬🤬🤬

[dbh-bb]

Hi, DBH Fandom, and welcome to the 2025 Round of the Detroit: Become Human Big Bang!

Today we’re announcing the 2025 round, its exciting co-round Die Hard challenge, some new folks to drag, and a partially-new set of rules that we hope will help clarify, encourage, and enthuse participants for this round.

What’s Going On in 2025?

We aren’t just running another round of the Big Bang. We’re introducing an extreme option: A Mega Bang we’re calling RK50K, where writers can team up to write 50,000 words with artists who want to make three or more artworks for the same concept. We had a bunch of overachievers last round, and we’re excited to see what we get in 2025!

That being said, for those of us who are less prolific, limited by schedule, or not infected by cordyceps, the Standard Bang remains open with the same requirements as always: 10,000 words, and one quality art.

Participants this year can sign up for three teams total: two fic and one art, or one fic and two art. There are details about picking up extra projects in the rules!

We are introducing the Bang Rules Etc. early this year because of some changes we’re implementing regarding previous rounds of the Bang Event and ongoing, unfinished works. Sign-ups don’t hit until March, but you can absolutely start writing now. 

Please take the time to read the rules document. Every year we have dozens of people asking questions we’ve already taken hours to clarify. We implore you. [Mr. Wolf voice] Pretty please. With a cherry on top. Read the rules. 

We would like to welcome our team of Mediators and Advisors!

Mediators are a second moderation tier that will help guide the Discord, step in when things are getting tense if mods aren’t around, and - since we’ve managed to adopt some artists - help shape the Bang’s direction as we evolve. Please enjoy a limited introduction to your new Mediators from Sev’s basement, where we’re keeping them trapped by murder dogs:

@aye-toast (Mediator), who was bullied into this 

@moonlitmilo (Mediator), who had a choice

@connor-sent-by-cyberlife (Advisor), who will be helping us out with a couple things once the round gets rolling!

We may be looking for additional assistance with a couple little things throughout the Bang, so if it’s something you’d like to get involved in, watch this space!

The Discord is, as ever, open to anyone to join. Feel free to come and bug the new guys with questions.

The Rules, Schedule, Guidelines, and FAQ are now listed in an evergreen Google Doc here:

Girl That’s So Long

There actually isn’t a lot of new stuff! Most of the information here has been collated from the #bang-info channel in the Discord, and just put into one place where it’s searchable and more easily accessible by participants. And prettier!

The new parts - rules on check-ins, extensions, and drop-outs - were driven by the results of last year’s posting period, which (you might remember) was incredibly challenging, difficult, and time-consuming for the mods, as well as the exit poll. We did not want to need these rules, but based on last year, they’re necessary. They may evolve for future rounds, but that’s what we’re going with for now.

You don’t have to read it all now. You will be held to all rules upon sign-up, whether you’ve read them or not, but there are a lot of days until sign-ups.

The FAQ (last section in the doc) will continue to grow as we get questions.

[sirfrogsworth]

Froglock Holmes, Internet Sleuth

I don't remember dates very well, but I believe sometime in the mid 2000s I had a friend drive me from St. Louis to Detroit. It was a very difficult journey. I have never done well as a car passenger and driving for an entire day was one of the more miserable experiences in my life.

But I got through it because I was *convinced* I was about to be cured. Back then it was the only thing I wished for and I was willing to try absolutely anything.

So we were off to see the Wizard about my wish.

During that time there were no doctors in St. Louis who knew anything about Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. But I found a website for a medical company that claimed if I saw one of their approved doctors, they could guarantee a 50% improvement. And when I did my pre-interview on the phone, that lady said some patients experienced a full recovery. To which I replied, "Yes, I will take one full recovery please."

But the closest approved specialist I could find was in Detroit and she would only treat me if I did my first consultation in person. She would then continue treating me over the phone.

My friend took three days off and she borrowed her parent's SUV so I would have leg room during the 8 hour trip. We loaded up on snacks and compact discs and began our road trip to wellness. We merged onto the Yellow Brick Road (a.k.a. I-70 East) and headed toward the land of Marshall Mathers.

The more I got car sick, the more I focused on asking the Wizard to grant my wish.

A new... mitochondria?

Plus several trillion.

A new several trillion little powerhouses.

This doctor was part of a national network of facilities that claimed they could effectively treat Fibromyalgia and CFS with a groundbreaking 6 step "holistic" approach. It was super holistic. Extra super duper holistic. The website made sure you knew it was holistic.

And those 6 steps sounded very fancy.

I mean, that all seems pretty legit. They were going to enhance my cells and address coagulation deficits. That's a thing, right?

Now I know that "holistic" is a buzzword that should be met with skepticism, but back then I was really hopeful they could help me. They enthusiastically made bold promises and filled me with such assured hope that I sold my car to help pay for everything.

We arrived in Detroit the evening before the appointment. I slept maybe an hour. Morning eventually arrived and we headed to the office. They gave me a clipboard full of paperwork that took forever to fill out.

"Can I please just see the Wizard and get my wish?"

I got to the exam room and they put me in a gown with the butt showing—which I don't think my friend was prepared for. I have a condition known as Hank Hill Butt and it can take a bit of getting used to upon first glance.

My poor friend refused to make eye contact while I was wearing it.

The doctor finally arrived and this supernatural healing wizard turned out to be a very short Greek lady. She asked dozens of questions—most of which I answered on the forms already. She poked my belly, checked my reflexes, and at no point did her examination require a gown with the butt showing.

She officially diagnosed me with severe Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and told me she was going to type up a custom treatment regimen and while she was doing that, I was going to get a special IV they designed to specifically combat CFS.

They took me to a room full of comfy reclining chairs and hooked me to an IV full of orange nonsense. Once that was done I met back up with the Wizard and she had created the afore-mentioned "customized" treatment regimen full of expensive supplements and vitamins that were not covered by insurance. Many of which I had to buy directly from the facility. As I looked over the treatment worksheet, I realized they gave the same document to all of the patients.

It was at this point, 560 miles away from my home, stuck in some office in the suburbs of Detroit (which will eventually be taken over by a tooth pulp dentist), with my Hank Hill butt hanging out...

I realized this could have been an email.

I decided to put everything on three different credit cards. Combined with the money from my car, I had about $20,000 to invest in fixing my broken body. My plan was to get all better so I could get a job and pay everything back. I even told the doctor this brilliant financial stratagem and she agreed it was a good plan. No notes.

Young Froggie was being hit in the face with red flag after red flag and Old Froggie is a little embarrassed about that.

I don't remember any of the supplements, but they had names like "EnergyMax Plus" and "Ultra MitoBooster 3000." They definitely sounded like legitimate, evidenced-backed medical supplements and not knockoff energy drinks endorsed by D-list Instagram influencers.

It wasn't all overpriced vitamins though. The doctor had some silly ideas that were actually covered by insurance. She said I should thin my blood so it took less energy to circulate. And I should boost my testosterone levels above the typical range to improve energy. So I had to inject myself with blood thinners and rub testosterone cream on my legs every day for months.

The blood thinners gave me tons of painful bruises at the injection sites and made me dizzy from time to time. The shots became so painful I would have to close my eyes and have my dad inject me. Otherwise I would chicken out. We kept running out of places that didn't have bruises so he would just pick the smallest bruise and stick the needle there.

And the testosterone cream had an interesting side effect that I am debating whether to talk about as I write this sentence.

Okay, I'm just going to tell you.

We are all adults here and we can handle adult conversations while remaining dignified and mature.

The testosterone cream gave me constant, spontaneous, hours-long boners.

I hadn't experienced anything like it since I was a teenager. No erotic inspiration required other than a gentle breeze. Only this time I didn't have a math book to hide behind.

None of it helped my fatigue.

In fact, the constant bonerpalooza was exhausting to deal with.

"Oh look, that actress I enjoy has a fully exposed ankle." "I bet that attractive lady has boobs under that heavy winter coat." "Hey, is it Wednesday?"

At some point it becomes a chore, ya know?

Thank god it was well before 2014, because if I had seen Chris Evans bicep curling a helicopter I probably would have needed hospitalization.

/end dignified adult conversation

After six months I had 0% of the promised 30-50% improvement 90% of the time and she kept saying I just needed to give it more time. She said it works quicker with the IVs full of orange nonsense. But they custom made those IVs and can only administer them in Detroit. She claimed the oral supplements were filled with the same nonsense, but took much longer to kick in. She told me I could be patient or drive to Detroit once a week for an IV treatment if I wanted faster results. If that were true, I feel like that should have been disclosed at the beginning. But I was assured I could get the same results without the IV treatments.

It didn't matter at that point. My credit cards were maxed out and I was out of money. I called the doctor and asked if there was any treatment she could recommend that was covered by my insurance. She got very quiet and awkwardly said she would try to figure something out. Roughly 30 minutes later I was emailed a coupon for $20 off our next phone consultation. I responded and told her I literally had no money left.

I never heard from her again.

The Wizard had no ability to grant my wish for several trillion properly functioning mitochondrias. She had no magic treatment. I finally saw her for what she truly was.

With perfect hindsight I could now see all of the red flags.

Though if I hadn't at least tried, I probably would have wondered and regretted it.

Hard to say.

I was kind of amazed how they built a country wide collection of clinics and they were able to operate for years solely on the placebo effect.

Years later I was curious what happened to this network of quackery. I found a news article saying it was all shut down due to fraud. I don't think they had a holistic approach to paying their taxes.

The reason I am telling this tale is because I have been playing detective and gathering evidence for my disability case. I started to wonder if maybe I could find my fraudulent Wizard to see if she had any kind of records or something that might help me. I knew it was a long shot, but I didn't want to leave a stone unturned.

At first all I could remember was her last name and that she was a D.O. and not an M.D. Standard Google searches were not turning up anything. I couldn't find her current practice nor any contact information. Apparently her Greek last name is a popular Arabic first name for men... so all my searches kept resulting in doctor dudes. This was not the time for a sausage fest and I was getting frustrated.

And then I finally remembered the name of the medical company.

Fibromyalgia & Fatigue Centers, Inc.

I even remembered their URL... fibroandfatigue.com

So I went to the Wayback Machine and I was able to find their now-defunct website. I suddenly remembered its cloudy banner image and "concerned_woman.png" like it was yesterday.

Why, yes... I am tired of being tired.

I also remembered their promise that over 90% of patients had at least a 30-50% improvement. Which was the claim that sent me down this rabbit hole to begin with all those years ago.

I started searching different versions of the site to see how their claims of effectiveness changed over time. At first they basically implied they made everyone completely better.

If I saw that I would definitely think I was getting a cure. But I imagine this caused some problems so they had to dial it back a bit.

I couldn't find the 90% version, but I did find the 30-50%.

This actually sounds like you have a 100% chance of a 30 to 50% improvement.

As I skipped around to the archived captures of different years, the promised percentage kept changing. I don't think they did an actual statistical analysis of their patients. I think they just picked a percentage that sounded enticing without promising too much. Just enough to be life-changing with a built-in excuse for when it all goes tits up.

Years after my experience, the site finally settled on a 65% improvement in energy levels. It was on their new page detailing how "affordable" their treatment was.

$20,000, you say? Balderdash, no one would spend that much.

If you were curious, they claim their treatment is now affordable due to a new monthly payment plan system. It did not become any cheaper.

However, under the 65% promise, they added this disclaimer with a large bold heading...

Success depends largely on your dedication and commitment. Our most successful patients are the ones who make the commitment to follow the treatment program rigorously. Patients who are aggressive and comply with the treatment process experience significantly better long-term results than those whose dedication is half-hearted and whose compliance is minimal.

In other words, "If our bullshit supplements don't work, it is YOUR fault."

Or in my case... "If you run out of money, it is YOUR fault."

Oh and there was also this...

Looking at all of the versions of the Fibro & Fatigue, Inc website was certainly fascinating, but I had to quit dicking clicking around and find my focus.

I still had detective-ing to do.

I was on the hunt for a Detroit-area Greek doctor of osteopathy.

There were ~250 captures of the site between 2004 and 2016. She wasn't listed in the newest captures, nor the oldest captures. So I kept trying to drill down to find the exact time period she worked at the company.

And then... EUREKA!

She was hiding in 2005 on their "Meet the Doctors" page.

Her first name was *drumroll* Sultana!

I can't imagine why I didn't remember that common first name.

Finally, after weeks of trying to figure this out, I now had enough information to do a proper Google search and discover what the heck she is currently up to. Probably putting people in open-butt gowns to check their tonsils or something.

*googling noises intensify*

I'm not sure I've ever come across such a literal dead end.

Should I be making puns about this?

I mean, she did help exploit me out of my entire life savings and put me in significant credit card debt with the Sex Panther-approved promise of a guaranteed 30-50% recovery 90% of the time.

And the institution she was a part of was shut down for fraud.

Still... I never wished an early death upon her.

I would have been happy with a trip to small claims court.

[detroitlib]

Cover detail from The 9 Lives of El Gato the Cat: A Fire Safety Comic Book. U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission, 1980.

[reality-detective]

Jennifer Lopez has been officially named in a lawsuit filed against Diddy by inmate Derrick Lee Cardello-Smith.

The lawsuit accuses the music mogul of s*xually assaulting Cardello-Smith in 1997 at a Holiday Inn in Detroit and claims Lopez may hold crucial information related to the case.

Court documents list her as “Jennifer Lynn Lopez, aka Jenny from the Block.”

She is not currently accused of any wrongdoing but has held crisis management meetings with her team a few months ago. Now, if she hasn't done anything wrong, "Why would she need a crisis management team? If there is no wrongdoing, there's no crisis. And, she doesn't speak for me! If you're willing to do the crime you better be willing to do the time... Or executed. 🤔