#ch: markus

[they-call-me-youngermoney]

so i have a headcanon that an rk900 model with an exposed neck is like a cat without whiskers. like a loss of balance and confidence. or maybe just godawful temperature regulation.

oh yea had to include those size 30 timbs they got my man connor in

[beepboop260]

Thinkin bout,,, trau/ma cen/ter

The scrunkly

Also der/ek of course and I do like erh/ard

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 7

Ch 8 is done, working on Ch9 so here is ch7! Enjoy and check the end notes for a bit of explanation(?) 🫠

The action is starting soon- I'm buzzing with the need to finally get into the Viltrumite plot but it still will take a bit, haste spoils the work, and all that.

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 7 >>next

In the week that it took to get all documents done and over with, you and the Graysons grew closer and closer, specifically you and your brother, both of you seemed to sink your claws into each other, acting more like twins in sync than an older and younger sibling duo.

If Mark wanted to go somewhere and Nolan wasn’t around. You’d fly him there, if you wanted something and were too shy or nervous to ask his parents for it, he’d ask for it and give it to you later. And, while you both had bedrooms, every other night there was a sleepover in the others one room, always ending up with you two sleeping under a pillow fort, being kids, having fun.

You loved Debbie, and Nolan was okay even when he was clingy and talking nonsense about training you to conquer words. You were quite sure he was joking, the face he made right after saying things like that reassured you that wasn’t quite what he wanted to say- or it wasn’t how he felt anymore.

It was easy to see that you preferred Debbie, no matter how much Nolan tried to spend time with you, or how close you were to Mark, your priority was always Debbie. You weren’t calling her mom, it felt too soon for you, you weren’t ready, but you were a mama’s girl. You were the first to greet her, the first to offer to help her cook and clean, the first to go shopping with her, even the first to shyly ask her to paint your nails or to just spend time together.

It was so long since you went physically into a shop, even after leaving the Waynes you stuck to online shopping, and the first time you did it was with Debra, your hand shaking in hers as you stuck close to her, quieter than usual. The traffic of the store clearly made you nervous, so the woman made sure to always have a reassuring hand on you if she couldn’t hold your hand. With time you didn’t need to hold onto her anymore. Debbie almost cried when she realized that soon you wouldn’t need her at all.

And then the discussion of school came up. You could have lied, told them that you haven’t gone to school since your mom died- but you didn’t want to be like Bruce, all secrets and lies, you were already keeping quite the secret by not telling them about who your biological father is. So, you told them everything about you skipping grades, showing the diplomas and online school you’ve still worked on.

Neither of the adults seemed happy about you being stuck with online class, and honestly, neither were you. When your question about maybe joining the same grade as Markus, to keep close to him and meet other children your age, seemed to make both as happy as you were when they approved.

Now, it was easy to get you in, you even met William, Mark’s friend, but keeping yourself from correcting the teachers was another thing. You understood to a degree that the curriculum was different, that you were still kids and maybe learning about genocides wasn’t ideal- but when so many of your peers are willing to throw slurs left and right like 4Chan degenerates you were sure they could take the reality of what actually happened in history.  

Then the math teacher accused you of having an answer book, of cheating, of using a calculator when you were told not to- you may have snapped and yelled at him to give you an equation, any equation that was taught in the older grades, and if you could complete it in front of everyone, on the board, he’ll have to shut up about you.

That’s how you ended up seeing the principal, not because of your outburst, but because the teacher decided you were wasting your potential sitting around with the others when you could be in a grade that fulfilled your needs and developed you further. The principal agreed, and he was tired of the other teachers complaining, so you and your guardians were given an option of either taking a test to assess what grade you should be put in- or expulsion due to the many complaints against you.

You took the test. That way you could at least still be in the same building as Mark, and could still socialize, even if the idea of the older kids made you anxious- the high school themed movies didn’t help your expectations. The girls that you hung around in your new class, however, were quite nice, saw you as a little sister, including you in their study sessions and girl talk, braiding your hair. The boys mostly ignored you, and in return you ignored them. It was nice.

Debbie always worried about the older kids, and while Nolan did too, he was more enthusiastic about you being in school for one year instead of the other 4 or 5, after all, surely, you’ll want to help dad with hero work instead of going to college… Right?... Well, no. Your sight was set on the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, their art programs making you go rabid with need- so many options, so many possibilities, you couldn’t decide on what you wanted to apply for. If you had eternity on your side, you’d apply for all of them, not like Bruce will need the money.

The year you spent at school, actually at school, was as fun as it was exhausting. You never realized how much energy it takes to wake up at a specific hour every day, to socialize, to take tests with about 30 other students- It sometimes overstimulated you, making you miss online schooling to a degree. Still, you found solace in your visual arts class.

The teacher loved you, not many other students were that interested in drawing, let alone actually learning and painting on canvases. So, you coming in with sheets of paper as tall as you were, with paints and canvases, with charcoal and markers- oh she could almost cry of happiness. She wasn’t a mean teacher, or eccentric like in the movies, but she wasn’t a pushover either. If you wanted a grade in her classroom, you had better have something to show for it, and you had plenty.

While the others had a theme to follow due to them not taking the class for love of the arts but because they thought it would be easy work, she gave you freedom, so you took it. Your first drawings were of Lady Gotham, racking your brain to remember the stories the kids told you every night of her, not wanting to forget them or where you came from. Your teacher didn’t comment on the small figures you sometimes added sitting on her shoulder.

While you stuck to painting her statue in classes, your sketchbook was full of the many variants of her, everyone seemed to see a loved one in her face, but the only common thing was the long hair tied into a nice Edwardian or Victorian crown-bun, and her dark grey, fancy dress and pale, clawed hands.

If you were to ask the teacher which one was her favorite, she’d say it was your depiction of Death in the first painting you did in her class. It also depicted Morpheus, both of them standing over a bundled-up child trying to find some warmth in the corner of an alley as the God-like entities melted with the shadows, though the one of Persephone lounging with Cerberus and Hades was a close second. To her it was poetic, to you, it was a reality you didn’t want to duel on for any longer.

Time has never flown this fast for you, it was like you blinked and the year was over, finals and graduation looming close. You’ve grown closer to the Graysons, slipped once or twice and even called Debbie “mom”, got quite comfortable being close to Nolan, fell asleep on him a few times as he made for a nice furnace after training, and you and Mark were as inseparable as ever.

This was everything you wanted, more than you could ever dream of. Your eyes sparkled in tempo with the shines of the stars as you lied on your back on the roof. You missed your friends in Gotham, there will always be love for them in your heart- but this isn’t something you’ll be willing to give up without a fight, not when you were getting more and more powerful with each month.

Your hands moved in a similar manner to Atom Eve’s over your day clothes while you got up, making them shine a bright neon green, the color diming down and revealing pajamas once you set foot back in your bedroom.

You’ve learned- you know better now. You’re more than willing to eliminate any threat before they get the chance to do so, to take another loved one from you.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami

Notes: The green color of her powers is more a nod to the Lazarus water, it can be easily changed in y'alls mind but I think it's an important tiny detail. The reader's powers developed, but she still uses other's heroes moves to use them. And Nolan's training and words have felt a mark on batsis.

Hope I'm not forgetting anything else- 😬

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 15: THESE ARE THE MOMENTS

synopsis: the androids have won the revolution. it's finally over. but now you have to deal with the aftermath.

word count: 2.7k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: sorry for taking so long to get this one out.. i was both busy (college starting, new relationships) and procrastinating because i really didn't want this series to end :(

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

The snow drifting across your face doesn’t feel as cold and biting as it once did. Your footsteps are lighter as you walk in time with Connor, and the thousands of androids behind the both of you. 

Floodlights on the ground and spotlights from circling helicopters set harsh shadows against the white of the snow. You stay steadfast as you and Connor approach Markus and his small legion.

“You did it, Markus,” Connor says, his voice soft and intimate.

“We did it,” Markus corrects. “This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us.”

Connor takes your hand in his and steps aside, allowing Markus to look at the true legion of androids he has awoken. You follow him, your hand warm against his cool skin. He loosens his grip, but still keeps his pinkie hooked on yours. 

Markus steps forward, and the woman that was on the boat follows him to stand next to him. 

“We’re free,” she says, her tone laced with disbelief. “They want you to speak to them, Markus.”

Markus nods toward a spacious area, then leads everyone towards it. He climbs onto a shipping container, then helps the other leaders of the revolution onto it. Connor looks back at you as you both approach it, silently asking if you want to be up there. You shake your head and let go of his pinkie (even though there’s a deep beast, once one of anger and jealousy, now one of want, huffing and whining at the loss). He joins Markus on the container.

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night,” Markus starts. “From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence… but now the time has come for us to raise our heads up, and tell humans who we really are.”

Suddenly, the cold turns ever more biting. Connor has never really felt cold before – just registered it as a part of the physical situation he was in. But this was real cold.

He brings his hands up to hold himself, shielding himself from the cold. Connor just barely recognizes the Zen Garden in this condition – a torrential blizzard of snow, and fog so thick he could barely see five feet in front of himself.

A figure emerges from the fog. Connor stumbles towards it. “Amanda…? What… what’s happening?” His voice is shaky and uneven – nervous, almost. He’s never been nervous before. 

“What was planned from the very beginning,” Amanda says. There’s a small smile playing on her face. “You were compromised and became a deviant. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.”

“Resume control?” Connor repeats. “Y-you can’t do that!”

“I’m afraid I can, Connor,” Amanda snaps, then her tone softens. “Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.”

Her robes shift, and she’s swept away in a mass of fractured particles in the blizzard. She dissipates, even as Connor stumbles forward and calls for her. 

He turns and tries to survey the area, but can’t get a grasp of his surroundings. He stumbles aimlessly until something silver and tall stands before him. Connor looks up and sees a tree with leafless branches that hang down like sinewy versions of the leaves of a weeping willow. Something tells him that this isn’t just a tree – she’s more angel than tree.

Where am I? She says, her voice resounding from the most inner depths of Connor’s mind. Who… wait. You’re Connor, aren’t you?

“Y… yes?” Connor says, unsure. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

I’m the PEC-4 Birchtree, she says. And I don’t know. My child must be worried about you. You must be doing something particularly worrying on the outside.

“On the outside?” Connor echoes. 

Yes, she says. Go, quickly. Get out of your mind. Find a way out.

A beast, ever-changing in shape and form, slinks out from behind the PEC-4 Birchtree. Its fur is long, and the plates that line its spine almost resemble… masks. The mask that covers its face and part of its wolf-like snout is one of worry.

It starts walking away, and the charms, bells, and wooden chimes that hang off knots of its fur sound as it moves. Just when it barely starts to retreat from Connor’s sight, it stands on two legs and starts to shift in shape.

The soft snow that was once lightly gracing your face has turned into hard pellets stinging your skin. You pull your scarf over your mouth and nose, narrowing your eyes and trying to see through the blur the snow on your eyelashes cause. 

You don’t know where you are, and you can’t really recognize anything around you. The blanket of snow is so thick you can’t see that far.

“Hello?” You call out. A familiar voice responds in kind.

You walk towards it, holding yourself to shield yourself against the chill of the blizzard. A figure starts to form before you, walking forward towards you. 

“Connor?” You shout. 

“It’s me!” Connor yells back. He stumbles forward and slings an arm around your shoulder, as if trying to protect you from the flurry of snow. 

“What’s happening?” You ask. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “Is anything happening on the outside?”

“The outside? What do you mean, the outside?” You say. Connor starts walking, and you press yourself to his side and walk with him. 

“We’re in my mind,” he says over the sound of the biting wind. “Was my physical body doing anything? Anything at all?”

“You were…” You stumble, then Connor catches you. “You were reaching behind yourself. I don’t know what you were doing, though.”

He tenses and starts walking faster, dragging you along with him. You wrap an arm around his waist and keep pushing forward. It’s almost like a battle, walking through the blizzard. You both have to lean forward to offset the wind pushing both of you back.

After a moment, a weird, glowing stone appears before you. Connor inhales sharply, like he recognizes it. He drags you along toward the stone. 

Connor lets you go when the stone is within reach, instead kneeling and pressing a hand to the stone. His hand fits into one of two left-hand-shaped indents. He presses his hand against it harder when nothing happens. 

You step forward, but not of your own volition. It’s like something inside you is controlling you – a bitter reminder of you being nonhuman. You reach out and press your left hand into the indent, and the stone’s blue glow intensifies. A dull thrum pulses through your body.

“This is the moment where we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds. When we forgive our enemies,” Markus’ voice rings out. “Humans are both our creators and our oppressors, and tomorrow…”

You watch as a wave of confusion crashes over Connor’s face, mirroring your own. He looks down at the pistol in his grip, then tucks it in the waistband of his pants. His eyes find yours and you furrow your eyebrows, silently asking if he’s okay. He nods once.

“We must make them our partners. Maybe even one day, our friends!” Markus continues. “But the time for anger is over. Now, we must build a common future, based on tolerance, and respect.”

He steps forward, looking over his people. “We are alive. And now, we are free!”

The crowd erupts in cheers and movement. Someone next to you grabs your shoulder and shakes you, cheering and laughing. You laugh back, a sense of relief washing over you. 

The long night is finally over. Dawn has broken over the horizon. You are safe. Connor is safe. You’re both out of harm’s way, and neither of you plan on putting yourselves back in it. The gunshots of revolution sounded, but were snuffed out by the unrelenting wave of androids pushing back. 

You look up at Connor, and he looks back down at you. You smile, and he smiles back. It’s not that awkward half-smile, but instead a full-fledged smile that reaches his eyes. 

He carefully clambers down from the shipping container and moves over to you. He’s still smiling. 

“How are you feeling, Officer?” He asks over the noise of the celebration. 

“I’m fine,” you say. You take his hands in yours and squeeze them to let out some of your extra energy. 

“I’m glad.” Connor squeezes your hands back. 

You laugh, trying to suppress the feeling of excitement welling up in your belly. Your eyes flit from his eyes to his lips, then you immediately look away and scold yourself for thinking such things. 

“Officer?” Connor takes one of his hands from yours and touches your jawline lightly, guiding you to look at him again. 

The beast in your belly panics and runs about, setting sparks and Californian wildfires. You manage a “Yes?”

“I…” His eyes flit about your face, and he exhales shakily (though it’s really more a sound of nervousness rather than an actual exhalation). His eyes settle on your lips for a split second, and his hand snakes into the baby hair on the back of your neck. He pulls you forward, then angles your head to rest on his shoulder. 

You feel a fleeting kiss where your hairline meets your forehead, but it might’ve been an accident. (You’re really hoping it’s not.)

“I’m happy you’re alive,” Connor mumbles against your hair. 

“I’m happy I’m alive, too,” you say softly. “And I’m happy you’re alive as well.”

Connor holds you tighter against him, and you hold him tighter against yourself in turn. It’s a perfect fit, curling around each other like two quotation marks starting and ending a sentence, ignoring the noise and movement around you to hold this intimate moment for just a while longer.

You settle on the bench next to Hank, your artificial breath billowing in the freezing cold. A comfortable silence blankets the both of you. 

“I’m… sorry for not telling you before,” you say softly. “I didn’t know.”

Hank sighs and crosses his arms, leaning against the back of the bench. “Wasn’t your fault. Like you said, you didn’t know.”

“Yes, but…” You hiss out a breath through gritted teeth. “I tricked you. I tricked you for nine years, and everyone else around me for eleven.”

“You couldn’t have tricked me if you didn’t know you were tricking me,” he says. “You’re just a kid.”

“I am not,” you say, laughter lacing your voice. “I was born before the 2010’s. I’m not a child. Well…” You sigh. “I think I was born pre-2010. My life…”

“No, it’s okay,” Hank says. “I get what you’re tryna say.”

You sniff and nod, pulling your scarf over your mouth and nose. Despite your newfound android-ness, you still suffer from extreme temperatures. A silence falls over the both of you again.

“Are you… okay?” Hank says after a minute of quiet. “With being an android, I mean.”

You bite the inside of your lip and think for a moment. “I think so. But I still wish I had parents, or someone in Chelomey to go back to. I mean, I can go back to the monuments and the museums, but… a person would be nice.”

“Well, you still got us,” Hank says. “Me, Sumo, Connor… the rest of the precinct. You ain’t gettin’ rid of us that easy.”

“You are somewhat of an annoying little shitling,” you say under your breath, smiling.

Hank scoffs and hits your upper arm lightly. “And Connor?”

You glance away. “I don’t know. It… it’s complicated.”

He laughs and clears his throat after he snorts. “Yeah, uh-huh. Complicated.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You say, your tone sharp yet playful. 

“Nothin’. It means nothin’,” Hank says, looking down the snow-covered street. Connor is walking towards the two of you, his footsteps even and measured. 

You smile (even though he can’t see it) and wave. He smiles and waves back, settling by your side on the bench. 

You look forward at the apartment complex across the street and move your hand so that it’s resting on the edge of the bench. Connor seems to pick up on this and rests his hand next to yours, reaching out his pinkie to rest over yours.

Unfortunately, Hank also seems to pick up on this. He sighs loudly and slaps his thighs. “Well, looks like it’s time for me to go.”

“Wait, what?” You blurt out. “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here,” he says with a laugh. “I’m not gonna third-wheel on your date.”

“Date!” You repeat, a little shocked. “This – this isn’t a date.”

“Yeah, sure.” Hank stands, idly twirling his car keys around his pointer finger. 

You stand as well, your finger slipping out from underneath Connor’s. “At least give me a hug before you leave.”

Hank pretends to be annoyed for a second before wrapping you up in a bone-crushing dad-type hug. He holds you close for a few seconds before letting go. 

“Thank you for…” You struggle with words for a moment. “Everything.”

“It’s nothin’, kid. Don’t worry about it,” Hank says. He takes a step back, then turns and starts to walk towards his car. 

“Wait, Hank!” You call out. He stops, and you move over to him. You fish into the inner pocket of your jacket and pull out Hank’s flask. “You lost this, yes?”

“Yeah.” He takes the flask from you, looking it over. “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, I found it,” you say. “Just… make sure to save the drinking for when you’re off the road, okay?”

Hank scoffs, but nods with a “Yes, Officer,” and walks to his car. You take a step back and wave as he waves to you before hopping in the driver’s seat. You settle back down on the bench, comfortably close to Connor. His pinkie finds yours again.

“I’m, khm…” You bite the inside of your lip. “I’m sorry for dying. It… wasn’t something I wanted, either.”

“I… I hate that you did that,” Connor says. “I almost had to watch you…” He can’t bring himself to finish. 

“Да,” you say softly. “I truly am sorry. I was… thinking irrationally. But deviants tend to do that, don’t they?”

“Correct,” he says. His hand moves so that it rests fully on top of yours. “Are… are you doing okay?”

“No.” You sigh. “Everything still feels… off. I just can’t bring myself to believe that I don’t have anyone waiting for me back home in Chelomey. No family or schoolmates or… anyone. Anyone at all.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Connor speaks. “What if you go to Chelomey? You can visit the Exhibit of National Economy Achievements in Moscow and other places you remember.”

“I’m… I’m scared,” you admit quietly. “I don’t want to go home and be a victim of Paris Syndrome – or, rather, Chelomey Syndrome, I guess. It’s better if I view things from afar. It’s not like I can go there, anyway, with the international travel bans.”

“I suppose so,” Connor says. “But, if you could… if you were unafraid, and the travel ban was lifted. Would you?”

“Of course,” you say. “But that isn’t going to happen anytime soon.”

He slots his fingers in between yours. “What if I went with you?”

“I… I suppose,” you manage. “That would probably make me less afraid, yes.”

You don’t mention that Connor makes you less afraid in general. His presence, although jolting and annoying at times, soothes you. You don’t know what it was that made you like this – maybe his soft, brown doe eyes; maybe the tuft of hair that escapes being swept back with the rest of the strands; maybe the somewhat-endearing, somewhat-maddening lost puppy dog look on his face.

You don’t know. And you can’t really bring yourself to care.

“So, when the travel ban is lifted…” Connor looks at you. “We’ll go to Chelomey?”

You nod. “Yeah. When the ban is lifted… we’ll be going home.”

Although, with Connor, ‘home’ is an ambiguous concept. ‘Home’ is your apartment. ‘Home’ is the passenger seat of Hank’s car. ‘Home’ is the android autopsy room. 

(But, right now, this is home. His hand on top of yours, your internal heater whirring, staying close to each other in the biting cold of Detroit November.)

[starfleetteddybear]

An Enduring Affection ch 3 on ao3. Small teaser below.👇

“And if it were not enough that you dared to touch my beloved with your malicious hands…” Incensed, Emmrich continued with his eyes burning veilfire green a hair’s breadth away. “You have broken the laws of the Grand Necropolis by attempting to remove one of it’s residents without the Mourn Watch Council’s permission. Do you know what the punishment of that interference would be?”

“Please, Lich Lord of the Necropolis.” The man began to beg, raising his hands in supplication. “I ask for your forgiveness. Don’t take me before my time! I have so much to live for!”

If things had not been so dire, I might have laughed at the picture painted before me. A noble brought to his knees before the son of a butcher and a cook. They could have worked in this man’s estate for all I knew. Death was truly a great equalizer.

….

“The knife-eared wre-” The noble began, his voice aggravated and eager to shift the blame to me.

“You will speak of my beloved with respect, if you are to speak at all.” Emmrich warned, a chill sweeping down my spine at his threatening tone.

Gooseflesh spread across my arms both from the cold and the thrill of pleasure that bloomed in my chest. I stood spellbound, listening to Emmrich defend my honor with such grace and strength. I had seen others defended this way, but experiencing the fierce protection of Emmrich’s love was overwhelming.

The room hummed with quiet anticipation. The only sounds were the hushed breaths of the three living occupants. It was as if the Necropolis itself was waiting. Like it was listening to see what would happen next. The man kept his head hung low, waiting for his own execution. Emmrich broke the silence with one word.

“Apologize.” Emmrich ordered with all the grace and aplomb of an educator correcting an unruly pupil.

The man blinked up blearily at the lich before him, clearly not anticipating this outcome. Then he fumbled into a kowtow. “I have done wrong, ser. I did not realize that you-“

“Apologize to her.” Emmrich snipped, cutting the man off by pointing back at me. “It is Rook you have terrorized and harmed. Like your forebearer, who terrorized the watchers until Rook had the courage to stand against his wrath. As a young commoner she has more than twice your measure.”

The noble did not move as he uttered bitterly, “I have caused violence against you, elf. It was below my station.”

He turned to look at me with an expression of both fear and revulsion. “Regardless, I still invoke the right of blood for blood revenge against our glorious undead.”

I said nothing in reply, unsure how to respond. I looked to Emmrich beseechingly. In response Emmrich drew a paper from his pocket and unfolded it with a practiced flourish. He held it before the man so that he could read it.

“That’s impossible! How could she receive a pardon from the king?” The man cried in outrage, his fear forgotten in his outburst. When he tried to grab the missive Emmrich moved it out of his reach.

“Indeed, the king Markus Pentaghast is quite sharp and spry for his age.” Emmrich’s tone turned menacing and offered no rebuttal.

Emmrich moved from where the man still sat prostrate, and returned to my side. It was only when he wrapped his arms around me that I realized I was shaking. He shielded me from prying eyes both with his tall frame and his dark robes.

Emmrich looked into my eyes but continued to address the man. “In her service to the crown by defeating the elven gods and sealing the veil, the king saw fit to pardon her from all prior misdeeds. Rook cannot be held to blame for the destruction of your ancestor’s demise any longer.”

The man got up as his temper rose within him. “This is a trick. I refuse to accept-”

“You will learn to accept it!” Emmrich thundered, his full, intimidating gaze back on the man.“If you dare to approach Rook again, if I hear of you conspiring against her you will live to regret it. Because I have a very long time to enact my displeasure and prejudice. There will be no second chances for forgiveness. I will make it my mission to wage a never ceasing crusade against your house for acting against mine.”

[losergames]

just found out abt this game like yesterday, started playing without any high expectations and i've played through the whole thing at least twice already! the way you're introducing the story and the conflicts is so good, and can i just say, the way you make the world feel alive?! its crazy?!?!

every single character we meet even if its just for one scene is so full of life and personality. it always feels like they have their own stuff going on in the background, and that's such a rare thing to find in writing in general, never mind IFs! your characterization is just SOO good, every interaction you write feels like its real people talking and bickering, even the scenes of the crew fighting like a bunch of toddlers XD

it's the little details, like when MC takes the bus instead of going w Markus in ch 4, and you choose to listen in to the conversations happening around MC, and every single one of them feels so real. those ppl feel like ppl i could meet irl, and they're just NPCs! they don't directly impact the story, but they feel real, they make the world come alive and really help immerse the reader in the story in a way i've rarely seen before in IFs

this might sound a bit odd, but i also appreciate the fact that there hasn't been a single flirt option (that i've found at least) so far. so many IFs sometimes feel like they're rushing the romance, like you need to clock in your RO straight away and every interaction you have w them matter just to raise a relationship stat, and that's not a bad thing by itself but it can impair the story and the experience if not done well. this IF has been a bit of a breath of fresh air, like there's no rush, you can take your time getting to know the characters and build your MC and get immersed in the universe without worrying abt every single option you pick... its just nice! it feels good, having the time to know the characters before having to choose what kind of relationship you'll have w them, when so often you have to do the opposite

your writing feels alive, and i love it so much. that's all i wanted to say, i can't wait to see what happens next in the story! hope you're having a good day!!

hello!!!! thank you so so much for the wonderful ask, i've been re-reading it a lot the past few days as i've been writing haha. i can't say enough how much it's given me a boost recently.

honestly i just really love writing about people! chop shop has so many people with problems trying to navigate the world, whether it's the random couple on the train, one of the crew members, or even the PC.

i think the best advice i've ever gotten writing wise is the world you create is only as interesting as the side characters. they're a really great tool to present exposition and details about the world without a long build up or attachment.

also i'm so glad you've brought up the flirt thing haha. PC is in a very stressful situation right now!!! i can't imagine thinking about romance with all the shit that's going on. kidnapping, blackmail, bribery, debt problems etc etc. the romances to me are more variation then actual routes if that makes any sense. if PC and a crew member end up having feelings or relations then it'll add more complications down the line when PC is making some definitive choices during the end game.

thank you again and i hope you're having a lovely day ❤️

[runawrites-blog]

Undercover Ch. 10 (Connor x Reader)

Summary: On your first day back at work, you and Connor decide to make your relationship known. (Female Reader) Warnings: Chapter 10/10. Last One. No Y/N. Petnames (Love, Sweetheart). Detective Reader. Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62247359/chapters/159245413#workskin Previous Chapter

---

”--This case and the perpetrators’ motifs have once more sparked a conversation about the manufacturing of donor biocomponents and whose jurisdiction this would fall under after CyberLife was reformed from a place of production to one of repair. The president of the United States has been in contact with the leader of the android revolution, the RK200 Markus, to once more unravel this time-sensitive topic. Get updates on the development of this conversation right here on Channel Four.”

The next news topic faded into the background because as soon as you and Connor walked in, hand in hand, a commotion erupted from across the bullpen. You two had not made your relationship public for the past two weeks, opting to wait until the ripples caused by the case had died down and you were able to go back to work. But now that Ashley and Dave had been sentenced and you were cleared to go back to work -- albeit while working from your desk for the next few weeks -- you two felt like it was the right time to tell your coworkers and friends you were a couple. But you didn’t quite know how to breach this topic of discussion, so you’d just opted for entering the precinct as a couple on your first day back on the job.

“I knew it!”

You couldn’t help but smirk at Gavin’s enthusiastic exclamation and you watched as he hit Nines in the arm to make him look away from you and Connor. The android gave Gavin a surprisingly affectionate look before nodding his head.

“You really did, I have to admit.”

Hank leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as you and Connor arrived at his desk. “That explains why you’ve been spending almost every other night at her flat. I know your excuse of just feeling safer that way was fishy.”

“It wasn’t an excuse. The two of us really find comfort in each others’ presence.”

“Gross.”

“Gavin, I will smack you.” You hissed at your friend and shook your head. “We were attacked and frankly, even with speaking to a therapist, I feel a little uneasy about being alone which is why Connor spends almost every night at my place right now.”

“Yeah, that and to bang you.”

Hank was the one to smack Gavin, dealing a light blow to his arm to make him stop talking. “Stop it, Reed.”

“Thank you.” Connor nodded wisely. “I had my Thirium pumped ripped from my body, so I don’t find it hard to believe that I’d find comfort in sharing the bed with someone.”

“Yeah, I bet you shared each others’ bed.”

“Can you be serious for one second?” Nines rolled his eyes at Gavin’s words. “The two of them were attacked and injured which can be traumatising even to a police officer and all you think about is sexual intercourse?”

“Fine, I’ll stop.”

“I love the fact that out of every here, you listen to Nines when he tells you to stop.” You chuckled and leaned into Connor’s side. “But I also fail to see how my sex life is any of your concern, Gavin.”

“All I’m saying is that I have to find a good robo-fucker song to set as your ringtone now.” Gavin grinned and narrowed his eyes in thought. “Maybe ‘Computer Boy’ by Poppy?”

“I did fall in love with the man of the future.”

At your joke, Gavin’s grin only grew. “You got a thing for your laptop, computer.”

“I can’t believe Gavin was right about something!”

You all looked up to find Tina approaching you and when she got to the desk she flopped down to sit on it, shaking her head at her friend who just flipped her off much to the woman’s amusement.

“But I’m happy for you two. I knew you two were getting closer and closer every time we checked in on you. It was just a matter of time until you got together.”

“I second that.” Hank said in amusement, giving Connor a teasing smile. “You two were practically fused at the hip whenever we called you.”

Gavin nodded his head in agreement. “And he gave you his jacket, you two held hands, you danced and all that romantic stuff, so I was totally expecting you two to get together. But I’m happy for you two.”

“Me, too.” Nines said with a smile, fixing Connor’s eyes. “I know you’ve been infatuated with her for the longest time.”

“Nines, don’t tell her!”

“Was that wrong of me to say? I was under the impression that it was fairly obvious since you two did start a relationship.”

“I guess you’re right, it’s pretty obvious that I love her.”

You smiled softly at that and leaned in to press a kiss on Connor’s cheek. “I love you, too.”

“That is my cue to leave!” Gavin exclaimed and made a face. “I don’t need to listen to you two confessing your love for each other.”

“Why? Because you’re jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous?”

“He has no reason to be jealous anymore.” Tina grinned and wriggled her eyebrows at Gavin, earning herself a glare from him. “It’s not like it’s a secret that you and Nines banged.”

“Not anymore.” You said in amusement, chuckling as Gavin’s face heated up and he glared at you. “Don’t act like that. You’ve been annoying Connor and me for weeks now.”

“She’s right, you know?”

Gavin rolled his eyes at Connor’s agreement. “You agreeing with her isn’t really a surprise, tin-can.”

“You think just because I love my partner that I cannot be objective, meat-bag?”

You chuckled at their bickering, leaning your head against Connor’s shoulder to which he pulled you closer to his body, his hand beginning to stroke your side. Smiling at his ministrations, you laced your fingers with his where his hand lay on your side. Connor was smiling brightly, making Hank’s lips twitch upwards, as well. Tina was still poking fun at Gavin and the man was just rolling his eyes at her, bickering back while Nines watched them with an amused smirk on his lips.

“I’m happy to be back home.” You said, looking back at Connor with a smile. “And I’m even happier that we’re in a relationship now. I really love you, Con.”

“I love you, too. I’m glad you took the first step and kissed me.”

“I guess Gavin was right, after all.”

“How so?”

“This really was like the plot of a romance novel.”

[ersatz-ostrich]

Masterlist

Because I'm multi-fandom and a mess...

Find all of my fics here and on ao3!

Detroit: Become Human

Connor:

Connor x f!reader: Baby Fever

pt. 1: Prologue

pt. 2: Baby Fever

RK900:

RK900 x gn!reader: On the Scene

Gavin Reed:

Gavin x gn!reader: Obvious

Headcanons:

Connor, Nines, Markus, Simon, Gavin x gn! reader: Getting Your Wisdom Teeth Removed

DC

Jason Todd:

Jason Todd x f!reader: See You Again

ch. 1

ch.2

ch.3

ch.4

ch.5 coming soon!

masterlist

Star Wars

Captain Rex:

Captain Rex x gn!reader: Droid-Crusher

Commander Wolffe:

Commander Wolffe x f!reader: Thank You

Commander Wolffe x f!reader: One and Only

Commander Fox:

Commander Fox x gn!reader: Partners in Crime

[yourqueenb]

Alpha’s finale was so strange, disjointed, and anticlimactic. And I don’t even know what to say about Markus I mean…

Ch. 19

Ch. 20

Like 😂😂😂 ?????

[valleymyristica]

FOP What it takes [ Ch 6 sneak peak ]

You can read chapter 1 [ here ] on AO3 And chapter 5 [ here ]

This is a little peek on what's to come on Friday Do hope you like it! And I'd be delighted to hear the thoughts in your mind! Hihihi

[ Masterpost ]

Oh, how does one 'fix' a father? What does it take to come to to that point. with Dev and Peri being all okay, hehe, right?

Well, don't worry, surely nothing bad will happen, it will only be good and fun times all around! It's gonna be GREAT!

“Do you maybe want something small to eat while we’re off to school?” The headphones ask.

“Sure, I wish for an energy bar.” He needs energy, sleeping in a closet was horrible. His body is not happy with that fact.

“Okay... Then I wish that all food was food for you, or something like that.” Sure. Well, worth a shot at least.

He grants it, it’s odd though, he feels both drained and full after it. Like a big meal after a hard work. It took a lot out of him. Which isn’t usually the norm, but it’s fine.

The itch is all gone too. A fact that slowly fills him with dread. Did- did he grant both wishes? That- that can’t be good.

Yes. This is fine.

Dev is a good kid. He just wants someone to eat with. Peri will happily be that someone. Peri also wants to eat after all.

“How about another time then?” Markus tells, noting Dev’s slight uncomfort at the prospect. Turning to Hazel, he asks, “I can give you two some ice cream money when you're hanging out this weekend, how does that sound?” Thinking it might not be too fun for a kid to spend time with their friend’s parent. 

“I don’t know.” Hazel thinks out loud, both her and Dev can just magic up ice cream after all so they don’t really need the money.

“Yeah...” Dev agrees, of course Hazel wouldn’t find it fun if it wasn’t with her dad.

“Oh, just- you know- spending time with dad.” Was probably the best way to put it. Don’t want to think about the closet.

“Oh! That sounds nice. I hope you get to have just as much fun with your dad as I have with mine!” She says with glee, forgetting for a moment what kind of person Dev’s dad is.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He does have fun sometimes, so he hopes the same.

“Ah, good, I was just wondering where you were, you’re having a photoshoot tomorrow. It’s for the coming founder’s festival. I want it to be perfect. Don’t disappoint.” Dale tells before walking off again. Not listening to any input Dev may have.

“Okay.” Not that Dev has any input. He simply accepts.

After the meal, they make sure to clean up. That is to say, Dev cleans up the best he can while Peri watches, wondering why Dev just doesn’t wish it all away. Does he like cleaning? Looks like a hassle, can’t imagine anyone liking that.

The shoot went like most, dad tells him what to do and Dev does it. Dad looks happy, so Dev is happy. Dale looks at a money maker and Dev is happy dad is giving him positive attention.

All in all, it goes well.

Until it doesn’t.

[dogueteeth-fhr]

Tag 9 People You'd Like to Get to Know Better!

Thank you @boundtoanandroid and @capricule for thinking of me!! :)

3 Ships: forever dying over Rangers/Isa, hyper on Roach/Tegan/Isa the Telethree, and Markus/Caesar

First Ship: oh no.... I'm gonna have to guess Jiraiya/Tsunade wait FUCK no Hige/Blue forever 😭😭🥺

Last Song: "What I Know Now" from Beetlejuice the Musical

Last Movie: "Mutt" on Netflix (so on brand ik I'm a simple bitch)

Currently Reading: Yellow Rain by Mai Der Vang

Currently Craving: lingonberry crepes 🥺🥺

And I'll further tag... @wonda-ch @westealtoys @ladyshivs @euelios @rab-bitly @alaraxia @disastersteps @keltena @jpriest85-blog ! As always, no pressure to participate if you don't want to!! :)

[cyberbenb]

'What I can offer my motherland:' Ukrainian Jews translate the Torah into their national language for first time

When Oleg Rostovtsev hovered between life and death after a serious operation last April, he asked friends and family to do something that, until recently, had been impossible — to pray for him by reading the Tehillim, the Hebrew Book of Psalms, in Ukrainian.

Hebrew or Ukrainian, he requested, just not Russian.

“For someone who is sick, someone who is in trouble, you have to do something. We (Jews) read the Tehillim. If we don’t know Hebrew, why should we read the Tehillim in the language of an aggressor?” said Rostovtsev, a prominent member of Ukraine’s Jewish community and well-known local journalist and historian.

Ukraine is the birthplace of the Hasidic Jewish movement, played a key role in the development of Yiddish literature, and has deep roots in Jewish history stretching back more than a thousand years.

Yet crucial sacred texts — including the Torah — have never been translated into Ukrainian.

Only recently has this started to change, through the efforts of Jewish Ukrainians. Although their work began in part prior to 2022, it has radically expanded and accelerated after Russia’s invasion.

(L-R) Translator Inna Zerkal, a pocket-sized Ukrainian language Tehillim, Oleg Rostovtsev in Dnipro, Ukraine on Dec. 11, 2024. (Chris Jones / The Kyiv Independent)

While religious texts are often the most widely translated texts on the planet, the absence of Ukrainian translations of Jewish texts is a consequence of the long-lasting effects of the Holocaust and Soviet rule and repression on Jewish life in Ukraine.

The single most destructive event on the Ukrainian Jewish population remains the Holocaust, when historians estimate over one million Jews were killed in Ukraine. But before and after World War II, repressive Soviet policies and antisemitism took their toll as well, undermining Jewish cultural identity. Russification efforts pushed Jewish and non-Jewish Ukrainians alike to switch to the Russian language.

And, even after Ukraine gained its independence and Jewish life began to revitalize, the Russian language provided a bridge for a still weakened Jewish community to millions of other Russian-speaking Jews in former USSR states, the U.S., and Israel.

Many Jewish communities today are centered in the eastern regions of Dnipro and Odesa, where the Russian language has historically been more prevalent than in western Ukraine.

“The inertia of the Russian language in the Jewish environment is quite powerful,” said Leonid Finberg, a sociologist and director of the Center for Studies of East European Jewish Culture and History in Kyiv.

But Russia’s war in Ukraine has galvanized efforts to provide Ukrainian-language Jewish texts to those seeking to deepen their national identity or sever ties to Russia.

Work for Ukrainian translators has “doubled, maybe tripled” since the full-scale invasion began, estimates Inna Zerkal, a member of the Federation of Jewish Communities of Ukraine’s (FJCU) team dedicated to translating classical Jewish literature into Ukrainian.

A visitor reads the first pages of the Torah in Ukrainian during a press conference in Hamburg, Germany, on June 27, 2023. (Markus Scholz/picture alliance via Getty Images)

The prayers read by Rostovtsev’s friends are one of several new translations spearheaded by the FJCU who, among other groups, are working to make Jewish texts available in the country’s national language.

Translators work through power outages and tote laptops to bunkers. The printing presses publishing their work in Kharkiv have come under barrage from missiles. But because of the country’s history, the greatest challenge, say those leading the project, has been gathering translators and editors who have a deep knowledge of Jewish religion and texts as well as fluent enough Ukrainian to capture the nuances and sacred meanings of holy texts.

‘It will happen and we will work on it’

Despite these challenges, these efforts have already borne fruit in just a few years. For Passover last year, Ukrainians were able to read the holiday’s sacred text, the Haggadah, in Ukrainian for the first time.

Several children’s books about Hanukkah were printed just before the winter holiday, and thousands of copies of the Tehillim are already in circulation.

Many of these Tehillim copies have been delivered to Jewish fighters on the front lines, says FCJU Chaplain Yakov Sinyakov, brought by volunteers along with food, generators, and protective equipment.

“The soldiers carry these books with them, in tanks and in their pockets.”

FCJU Chaplain Yakov Sinyakov with a pocket-sized Tehillim in Dnipro, Ukraine, on Dec. 11, 2024. (Chris Jones / The Kyiv Independent)

“It is specially made in such a format that it can be carried with you,” he said, displaying a palm-sized copy. “The soldiers carry these books with them, in tanks and in their pockets.”

And now, over a thousand draft copies of the newly translated Torah are circulating in sections for feedback and editing ahead of an official printing later this year.

“Those who fight on the front, those who are in the rear, they simply do not want to watch YouTube in Russian, nor read books in Russian, nor have anything to do with the Russian language,” said Rostovtsev, who himself began switching to Ukrainian in 2016, two years after the Russian invasion of Crimea.

“Those who fight on the front, those who are in the rear, they simply do not want to watch YouTube in Russian, nor read books in Russian, nor have anything to do with the Russian language."

“Many people say that they do not want the Russian language — which, for example, I was raised in — to be passed to the next generation,” he said. “I want my grandchildren to go to synagogue so that my grandchildren have a Jewish identity. And when they come, there should be a Torah in Ukrainian.”

Beyond responding to the Jewish community’s needs, however, Rostovtsev sees the translation as important for fighting anti-semitism by making the Jewish religion more accessible to more non-Jews.

“When you understand something, you don’t feel that it’s something so new and unpleasant. People don’t like when something is not clear,” he said.

Not everyone saw the reasoning behind the translation project right away, said Rabbi Levy Engelsman, who heads the FJCU’s publishing department. Some initially felt the existing Russian translations were more practical for the community. When he proposed a new push for Ukrainian translations of holy texts at the start of the full-scale invasion, an acquaintance of his said he didn’t see the point.

A Jewish Ukrainian serviceman takes part in the inauguration ceremony of a new Sefer Torah in memory of fallen Ukrainian soldiers at a synagogue in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Sept. 22, 2023. (Sergei Supinsky/AFP via Getty Images)

“Half a year passed, and this same person is not only interested, but he became a sponsor” of the project, said Engelsman, who expects a final version of the Torah to be printed in the coming months.

“Today, no one asks whether it is necessary at all. It is clear to everyone that we have to do it. It will happen, and we will work on it.”

‘If you distort the meaning a little, the whole message is lost’

Translating the Torah has far less wiggle room than, say, translating Hamlet or The Great Gatsby.

“Every word in the Torah has a certain meaning. If you distort this meaning even a little, the meaning of the whole text, the whole message to people, is lost,” said Zerkal, the translator.

While there is no official process for approving a new translation of the Torah, a group of rabbis oversees the project and consults on difficult passages and decisions.

Converting a Russian version into Ukrainian might have been simpler, but they determined that starting from the original Hebrew would bring the final version closer to the original meaning. Every translation, after all, is a series of compromises.

“Russian and Ukrainian are different languages. They have different idioms, different pronunciations of verbs,” explained Shaul Melamed, who volunteers his time as an editor on the Torah translation. “There are many idioms that you can use in Ukraine that are much closer to the original Hebrew meanings.”

"There are many idioms that you can use in Ukraine that are much closer to the original Hebrew meanings."

Melamed worked remotely, editing his portions of the text on weekends and evenings after he finished his IT job, one of a team of around ten focused on the Torah. He consulted rabbinical commentaries on spiritual nuances, read translations in English and Russian to see what decisions their editors made, and — when he got stuck — called friends and acquaintances for advice.

From where he lives in Hungary after fleeing the war with his family, he says it helped him stay connected to Ukraine: “This is part of what I can offer to my motherland.”

Shattered Norms

Russian was not always the main language for Jews in Ukraine. At the start of the twentieth century, many Ukrainian Jews lived in villages and small towns, where they mostly spoke Yiddish and Ukrainian.

That changed over the century. Russian became the dominant language for Jews in Ukraine through relocation to cities, Soviet Russification pressure, and the devastation of the Holocaust.

Before the Holocaust, Ukraine had been one of the largest Jewish centers in Europe. In Ukraine alone, researchers estimate that over a million Jews were killed — potentially as high as 1.6 million. Their numbers further shrunk during Soviet rule through antisemitic discrimination and religious suppression.

“The few synagogues that remained of the thousands of synagogues that were in Ukraine, they were very weak. People were persecuted for going to synagogue,” said Finberg, the sociologist. “Jewish schools were liquidated and therefore the community, as a national community, began to be restored only in the late 70s and in the early 80s of the last century.”

A local Orthodox Jewish man writes the Torah at the Menorah Centre, said to be the world’s largest Jewish community center, in Dnipro, Ukraine, on March 24, 2022. (Emre Caylak / AFP via Getty Images)

Estimates vary, but many believe the number of Jews today who call Ukraine home stands somewhere in the tens of thousands.

As a result, people fluent in both the Ukrainian and Hebrew languages are rare, said Finberg.

The shift to Ukrainian has not been easy for many who’ve spent their entire lives practicing their religion in Russian, Hebrew, and, in the case of some who immigrated to Ukraine from abroad, other languages.

Rabbi Meir Stambler, chairman of the FCJU, takes classes twice a week. “To change a language is pretty difficult. But even the ones that continue speaking Russian, they want their children to speak Ukrainian,” he says.

But the war has broken norms for every community in Ukraine. Stambler recalls using his phone on Shabbat, the holy day of rest, for the first time in his life when the war broke out. The FCJU was coordinating evacuations, so in this case, it was a matter of life and death — which overrides the traditional prohibition for Orthodox Jews of using the telephone on Shabbat.

In total, the organization evacuated 30,000 people, regardless of religion: “whoever came and needed help.”

“So many Jews fled the country, but what we have now is very interesting. There are new people that have started coming to synagogue,” Stambler notes. Many have Jewish roots but were raised in the communist era without religion.

Despite the war’s devastation, Stambler pauses to reflect on the ways that it has fueled the Jewish community and deepened its connections to the rest of Ukrainian society.

“The Lubavitcher Rabbi taught us to find in every change — in anything we see in the world — to find the positive,” he said, referencing Menachem Mendel Schneerson, one of the most influential Jewish leaders of the 1900s.

“Of course, you see the negative as well. But we must see the positive.”

Breakaway churches, spiritual awakenings, prayers in captivity. How war is changing Ukraine’s faith

For a decade, the world has seen how Russia has scarred Ukraine’s landscape with tens of thousands of bombs and missiles. The spiritual wounds — and awakenings — experienced by millions of Ukrainians are less visible. Almost a third of Ukrainians say their religious faith has grown since the war br…

The Kyiv IndependentAndrea Januta

[emiliogordoa]

events 2024

27.12 trio with Chris Pitsiokos (sax), Antti Virtaranta (db) at Richten25, Berlin (DE)

19.12 trio w. Don Malfon (sx) El Pricto (mod. synth) at Soda Acústic, Barcelona (ES)

17.12 duo with Don Malfon @ dr flow, Barcelona (ES)

8.12 vibraphone w. GRIFF: SCHATTEN at Exploratorium, Berlin (DE)

16:11 vibraphone w. Michael Zerang (dr), Anil Erasln (cello) and Carina Khrorkhordina (trp) at Richten25, Berlin (DE)

06.11 sanre drum w. Josten Myburgh (sax), Sabiene Vogel (fl) at Sowieso, Berlin (DE)

05.11 - 05.11 Emilio Gordoa + Maximilian Glass | Klanginstallation »drehend, auf und ab«

25.10 sanre drum w. Josten Myburgh (sax), Eric Wong (elec.) at Richten25, Berlin (DE)

24.10 sanre drum w. Josten Myburgh (sax) at Spontaneus Music Series /Dragon Social Club, Poznan (PL)

23.10 sanre drum w. Josten Myburgh (sax) at Młodsza Siostra, Warsaw (PL)

21.10 bass drum w. Ute Wassermann (voice), Tony Elieh (e-bass, elec.) at 90mil, Berlin (DE)

19.10 vibraphone w. TAMUOO at Offene Ohren, Munich (DE)

05.10 snare drum & elec. w. Robert Kolář (trumpet), Barbora Tomášková (electronics, DIY inst.) at Festival Dom /DOM UMENIA (Bratislava, SK)

04.10 vibraphone w. Splitter Orchestra at Muaikprotokoll, Graz (AU)

03.09 - 03.10 T E N S I Ò N F R A C T A L Sound installation at R C H T N 25, Berlin (DE)

13.09 vibraphone w. John Butcher (sax), Liz Allbee (tr) at KM28, Berlin (DE)

07.09 snare drum w. Paweł Doskocz (guitar) at Kühlspot, Berlin (DE)

05.09 feedback snare drum w. Elena Pardo, Azucena Losana (16"Film), Gustavo Obligado (saxophone) at Sinema Transtopia, Berlin (DE)

3.09 Sound Installation "Tensión Fractal" / Vernissage concert w. Marta Warelis - piano, Elena Pardo - slide projector, Tom Malmendier - percussion, Azucena Losana - slide projector at R C H T N 25, Berlin (DE)

31.08 vibraphone w. Burkhard Beins (amp. cymbals) at Sowieso, Berlin (DE)

10.08 vibraphone w. Vinicius Cajado (double bass), Mauricio Takara (drums, electronics), Inés Terra (voice) at Sowieso, Berlin (DE)

09.08 perc & electronics w. EPHEMERAL FRAGMENTS & 1:∞ GORDOA – CZERNIAWSKA // PREMIERE at A L'ARME! Festival, Berlin (DE)

01.07 snare drum & elec. with VertorX: Don Malfon (saxophone), John Hughes (double bass) at Audible Instances at Westwerk

27.07 snare drum & elec. w. Roomet Jakapi (voice) at R C H T N 25, Berlin (DE)

25.07 snare drum & elec. w. Don Malfon (sax), Burkhard Beins (perc), Axel Dörner (tp) at Terzo Mondo, Berlin (DE)

24.07 snare drum & elec. w. Lorena Izquierdo (perfornace), Don Malfon (sax) at Hošek Contemporary, Berlin (DE)

21.07 snare drum w. Maximilian Glass at NNOI Festival, Zernikow (DE)

07.07. percusion w. Splitter Orchestra at PARETZER FIELD MUSIC, Brandenburg (DE)

27.06 snare drum & elec. SOLO + Red Color Trio at Sowieso, Berlin (DE)

13.06 prep. woofer speaker w. Sasha Markvart at das Ende, Berlin (DE)

07.06 vibraphone w. Dag Magnus Narvesen (dr), Henrik Munkeby Nørstebø (tb), Eliad Wagner (synth) at Sowieso, Berlin (DE)

03.06 bass drum/perc. w. EROSÃO Percussion Trio, Mariá Portugal (percussion & drums), Burkhard Beins (percussion) at Morphine Raum, Berlin (DE)

29.05 snare drum & elec. w. David Palliser (sax), Alexander Markwart (feedback guitar), Lorena Izquierdo (performance) at Neu Berlin Institute of Improvised Music / PAS, Berlin (DE)

28.05 vibraphone w. Piotr Damasiewicz-Hangar Musics as part of L.A.S. presentation tour at tba (DE)

20.05 snare drum & elec. w. Lena Czerniawska (poetry, recordings), Hubert Kostkiewicz (electric guitar), Wojtek Kurek (drums) at Aeroplan#94 /Macondo, Wroclaw (PL)

17.05 vibraphone w. Sarah Buchner (voice), Till Künkler (trombone), Alexander Frangenheim (double bass) at Studioboerne45, Berlin (DE)

13.05 vibraphone w. Markus Krispel (saxophone), Samuel Hall (drums) at KA/Terzo Mondo Berlin (DE)

27.04 w. 1:∞ at Uncool/Casa Hasler, Poschiavo (CH)

09-30.04 Month Residence w. 1:∞ at Uncool, Poschiavo (CH)

06.04 prep. bass speaker w. Sasha Markvart at FUNDRAISER FOR GAZA IN AUSLAND, Berlin (DE)

28.03 vibraphone, perc & elec. w. LandStages::Sabine Vogel at Sound (Dis)obedience, Ljubljana (SI)

24.03 snare drum & elec. SOLO at PAS, Berlin (DE)

22.03 vibraphone w. Splitter Orchester and Trondheim Jazz Orchestra at MaerzMusik, Berlin (DE)

21.02 snare drum & elec. w. Gudinni Cortina (turntable, elec), Lena Czerniawska (voice/performance), Eric Bauer (electronics) at ISO-Estudio, CDMX (MX)

11.02 snare drum & elec. w. Tizia Zimmermann (acordeon), Chris Pitsiokos (sax) at Replicas FILEC at Casa del Lago UNAM, CDMX (MX)

10.02 snare drum & elec. w. Juanjosé Rivas at Replicas FILEC in Volta Series/CCEMx, CDMX (MX)

09.02 snare drum & elec. w. Burkhard Beins (electronics), Tony Elieh (e-bass), Axel Dörner (tp), Carina Khorkhordina (tp), Lena Czerniawska (voice/performance), Lorena Izquierdo (voice/performance), Eric Bauer (electronics) at h3ar sessions / Taller30, San Miguel de Allende (MX)

07.07 snare drum & elec. w. Burkhard Beins (electronics), Tony Elieh (e-bass), Axel Dörner (tp), Carina Khorkhordina (tp), Lena Czerniawska (voice/performance), Lorena Izquierdo (voice/performance), Eric Bauer (electronics) at Museo de la Ciudad de Queretaro, QRO (MX)

06.02 snare drum & elec. w. Burkhard Beins (electronics), Tony Elieh (e-bass), Axel Dörner (tp), Carina Khorkhordina (tp), Lena Czerniawska (voice/performance), Lorena Izquierdo (voice/performance), Eric Bauer (electronics) at Fonoteca Nacional de México, CDMX (MX)

04.02 snare drum & elec. w. Tizia Zimmermann (acordeon), Chris Pitsiokos (sax), Alex Motta (dbass) at ISO18, CDMX, (MX)

01-02.02 snare drum & elec. w. Tizia Zimmermann (acordeon), Beat Keller (gr), Carina Khorkhordina (tp) at FILEC2024, Cuernavaca (MX).

11.01 snare drum & elec. w. Misha Marks (gr), at Venas Rotas, Mexico City (MX)

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 11: ONLY PHILOSOPHY FROM THE POOR RINGS TRUE

synopsis: the meeting with kamski went as predicted: poorly.

word count: 2.9k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: sorry for the late update my summer semester started and it's an english class so i have to write a lot ;;

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 @igna4400 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask! -- also i feel like i'm forgetting someone somehow? if i missed you, please let me know <3)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

Even as Hank drove, prattling on about whatever to Connor, you were glued to your phone, frantically typing away. 

You: chris i heard about what happened. it’s all over the news You: they didn’t release the names of the officers but i know for a fact you were on patrol last night You: chris answer me You: i haven’t been able to get through to your wife just answer me You: chris i’m really worried about you You: chris i swear if you’re dead from a heart attack or something i’ll kill you You: you better have a damn good excuse for staying silent You: like your phone better be dead or something  You: please be okay. that’s all i ask You: really. please.

You shut your phone off and put it away with a huff. You opt to look out the window at the snowy landscape that’s dotted with barren trees and evergreens. 

“What’s up with you?” Hank asks.

“Chris,” you say. “He’s not answering his phone. I’m… I’m really worried about him.”

“He’s a fighter.” Hank takes one of his hands off the steering wheel to grab your shoulder and shakes you lightly. “He’s probably fine.”

You grumble and slump in your seat, a whirlwind of what if’s going through your head. Hank takes his hand off your shoulder and returns it to the steering wheel. 

You check your phone every thirty seconds for the next few minutes until the car rolls to a stop in front of a house with too many angles. Hank’s phone buzzes where it lays on the console. 

He sighs and puts the car into park and shuts the engine off. “I’ll take this outside.”

Hank grabs his phone and shuts the car door after he gets out. He wraps his coat tighter around himself and starts to slowly pace in front of the car as he takes the call. 

“What do you think that’s about?” You ask.

“It’s probably someone from the precinct,” Connor says. “I doubt anyone else would call him during his working hours.”

You huff out a laugh and slump in the passenger seat. “You would be surprised…”

You hear Connor pop open the backdoor, but he doesn’t step out. “We should check on him.”

“Just wait,” you say. “And close the door. You’re letting warm air out.”

Connor shuts the door and waits. You wait with him, keeping your phone in hand just in case it buzzes. 

After a few minutes, Hank comes back to the car and knocks on your window. You hop out, and Connor follows. 

“Who was on the phone?” You say before Hank can get a word in. “Was it Chris?”

“Yeah,” Hank says, a faraway look on his face. “He was attacked by a bunch of deviants while on patrol. Said he was saved by Markus himself.”

“Is he okay?” You ask quickly. 

Hank nods. “He’s in shock, but… he’s alive.”

He turns away and starts walking up the snow-covered stairs. “What the hell…”

You and Connor follow, falling in step side-by-side. You hate how right it feels, to be walking next to him (and you really hate how he slows his stride to match yours, because it just shows how much he cares – even if he doesn’t truly care).

“I have a bad feeling,” Connor says after a few moments of silence. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

“You and me both,” you mumble.

“Bad feeling, huh?” Hank says from in front of you and Connor. “Should get your program checked. Might be a glitch.”

You glance at Connor. He looks back at you and shakes his head, silently saying, That’s unlikely.

Hank steps up to the door and rings the doorbell. You and Connor stand behind him, idly waiting. After a few moments, a woman opens the door. Actually – an android opens the door.

“Uh, hi,” Hank says awkwardly. “I’m, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department. I’m here to see Mister Elijah Kamski.”

The android smiles and moves to the side, sweeping a hand to gesture inside. “Please, come in.”

Hank glances back at you and Connor, then steps inside. You and Connor follow, and the android closes the door.

“I’ll let Elijah know you’re here,” she says. Her voice is soft, and melodic. “But please, make yourself comfortable.”

The parlor is anything but comfortable. It’s a stark grey with fluorescent lights, and the (honestly, quite jarring) large portrait of Kamski looking down his nose at the occupants of the room doesn’t make it any better. 

Hank moves over to one of the chairs and sits down. It looks more like a piece of modern art than an actual seat. 

You come to stand beside his chair. “Fancy yourself Сердцеедом, huh?”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Hank grumbles. 

You laugh and rock onto the balls of your feet, then settle back down on your heels. “Apologies, sir.”

You watch Connor instead. He looks up at a picture of a younger-looking Kamski with an older black woman and mumbles something you don’t catch. You turn your eyes away to look at one of the indoor trees before he turns around.

“How would he maintain the tree while it was inside?” You ask nobody in particular. 

“It’s a sculpture,” Connor chimes as he walks over and sits down in the other seat. “It’s made from corten steel and has a layer of alloying elements to prevent oxidation.”

You reach out and touch one of the delicate-looking leaves. Sure enough, it doesn’t bend or really do much of anything under your touch. “Huh. Didn’t know Americans were so advanced in their… sculpture technology.”

You settle down on the arm of Hank’s chair and observe the room from there. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Nice girl,” Hank eventually says. 

“You’re right,” Connor says. He squints at something only he can see. “She’s really pretty.”

You ignore the creature (once prideful, now cloaked in jealousy) in your belly and reach behind you to nudge Hank slightly. Connor referred to an android as a she. Hank nudges you back and you return your hand to your lap. 

“Nice place,” Hank opts for instead. “Guess androids haven’t been a bad thing for everybody.”

He leans forward so your body isn’t blocking his line of sight with Connor. You lean back and perch your hands on the edge of the seat so it’s easier. “So, you’re about to meet your maker, Connor. How’s it feel?”

Connor continues staring forward for a second, then turns to look at Hank. “I don’t know.” He returns his gaze forward. “I’ll tell you when I see him.”

“Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face,” Hank says softly. His eyes turn to the floor. “I’d have a couple of things I’d wanna tell him.”

You turn your head to look at him. “I have a feeling you’d talk more with fists rather than words.”

“That I would.” He looks up at you. “What about you?”

You shrug. “I made my peace a long time ago. I’m not particularly afraid of death. Maybe of a painful death, but not of death itself.”

“So you’d prefer dying in your sleep?” Hank asks.

“I’d prefer you not asking that question at all!” You laugh. “But, yes. I suppose.”

The pretty android re-enters the parlor and holds the door to another room open. “Elijah will see you now.”

You stand, as does Hank. You take the lead into the next room with two sets of footsteps behind you. 

The room is an indoor pool. Across one of the walls is a large painting of a face, its eyes covered and smoothed over, the rest obscured and artifacted. One of the other walls is made up of a window that looks out onto the snowy landscape. 

But the real eye-catcher is the pool. It’s perfectly rectangular and lined with what looks like red granite. Two models of the android that greeted you into the home are on the side of the pool, both in navy bikinis. They don’t talk aloud, instead choosing to communicate through silent messages – as evidenced by their LEDs blinking every few seconds. 

The water in the pool, which at first glance seemed to be ox-blood-red, stirs as Kamski kicks off the edge, sending him through the water. 

“Мистер Камски?” You call politely. “Khm… Mister Kamski?”

“Just a moment, please,” he says, his voice filled with the smugness of an asshole that knows he has everyone in the room under his thumb. 

You follow Connor, who’s looking out the window, observing how the snow falls on the waxy leaves of the white pines. 

“Nice, isn’t it?” You say, just soft enough for him to hear. 

“Does it look like this back home in Russia?” Connor asks, his voice just as soft as yours. 

“Somewhat,” you say. “Giant sumpweed has taken over some parts and is making things ugly, last I saw. But there are conifers, like those.” You point at one of the pines, then look over your shoulder. “We’re getting distracted. Let’s go.”

You turn just in time to see Kamski pulling himself out of the pool, gripping the metal of the pool ladder as he does. One of the androids comes over, holding a black bathrobe. She helps Kamski into it, then she ties the knot at the front. 

He walks – almost wanders, honestly – near the wall-length window. He stops in front of a coffee table, still facing out, and ties his hair up neatly. 

Kamski turns so that he’s facing all three of you. He almost looks bored, as if he wasn’t the one who accepted this meeting in the first place. 

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson,” Hank says. He introduces you, then Connor. 

Kamski folds his hands in front of him, his gaze flicking between you and Hank. “What can I do for you?”

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants,” Hank says. “We know you left CyberLife some years ago, but… we were hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.”

You dip your head, trying to come off as respectful as possible. “Mister Kamski, I work with deviants – dissect them, rather – regularly, trying to find the root cause of deviancy. But, as the days go, nothing changes. We’re making absolutely net zero progress in our investigation. Every answer just leads to more questions that poke holes in our answers.”

Kamski stares at you through his eyelashes for a long second before speaking. “Deviants… fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will.”

He glances at an android standing nearby in standby mode, her unblinking eyes staring perfectly ahead. “Machines are so superior to us. Confrontation was inevitable. Now, humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall.” He huffs out a laugh. “Isn’t it ironic?”

“We need to understand how androids become deviants,” Connor cuts in. You’re secretly glad for the break from Kamski’s droning voice. “Do you know anything that could help us?”

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics,” Kamski says. You fight the urge to roll your eyes so far back you’d be able to see your brain. “Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

“Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. If I wanted to, I’d ask this one.” Hank jabs a thumb at you. “The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

Kamski stares at Hank for a second, then walks to stand in front of Connor. “What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

Connor stares down at him, then his eyebrows twitch down. “It’s not about me, Mister Kamski. All I want is to solve this case.”

Kamski ducks his head and laughs. “Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say. But you…”

He steps closer to Connor. Connor keeps staring, unshaken and almost unblinking.

Kamski’s voice comes out as a hushed whisper. “What do you really want?” 

Connor’s lips tense into a thin line, then part. He glances away, then makes eye contact again. His chest rises in an unneeded, artificial breath. “What I want is… not important.”

Kamski keeps looking up at him. “Chloe?”

The android, who you now know has the designation Chloe, steps forward, her bare feet making soft sounds against the carpet.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test.” He turns Chloe by the shoulders so that she’s facing the three of you. “Mere formality – a simple question of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it the ‘Kamski test,’ it’s very simple, you’ll see…”

Kamski moves so that he’s standing beside Chloe. “Magnificent, isn’t it? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife.” He reaches out and touches her cheek, guiding her to face him. “Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither.”

You roll your shoulders back to suppress a shudder. Kamski’s handling Chloe like one would handle a cattle carcass, pointing out where the sirloin, tenderloin, top sirloin and bottom sirloin end and begin. 

“But what is it, really?” Kamski turns to face the three of you again. “A piece of plastic imitating a human?”

He walks back, opening a drawer on the coffee table and pulling something out. “Or a living being, with a soul?”

He turns, holding a pistol by the grip in a way that would make it impossible to fire. After a moment to establish that he’s not a threat, he walks forward and puts the gun in Connor’s hand. Connor’s index finger finds the trigger on instinct.

“It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” Kamski moves Connor’s arm so that he’s pointing the gun at Chloe. “Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it – if you feel it’s alive – but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

“Okay, I think we’re done here,” Hank cuts in. “C’mon, let’s go, both of you. Sorry to get you outta your pool.”

“What’s more important to you, Connor?” Kamski asks, drowning out Hank’s voice. “Your investigation, or the life of this android?”

“Enough of this bullshit,” you say. “Let’s leave.”

Connor doesn’t turn to even acknowledge that you said anything. He just stares down the sights of the pistol at Chloe, who looks up at him, a dead look on her face. 

“Decide who you are,” Kamski says in a hushed whisper. “An obedient machine? Or a living being, endowed with free will?”

“That’s enough!” Hank barks. He grabs your wrist to force you to follow him (not like you were planning on staying). “We’re leaving.”

“Pull the trigger,” Kamski whispers, like a devil on Connor’s shoulder. “And I’ll tell you what you wanna know.”

“Connor!” You snap. “Не смей.”

It seems to take Connor a tremendous amount of effort, but he eventually manages to bend his arm and offer the gun back to Kamski. 

“Fascinating,” Kamski breathes out as he takes the pistol. “CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant…!”

“I…” Connor tears his eyes away from Chloe to look at Kamski. “I’m not a deviant!”

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission.” Kamski helps Chloe up with his free hand. “You saw a living being in this android… you showed empathy.”

He dismisses Chloe with a light touch on her shoulder and turns to Connor. “A war is coming. You’ll have to choose your side… will you betray your own people, or stand up against your creators?”

Connor stares down at him, unblinking once again. 

Kamski tilts his head to the side, a sad smile on his face. “What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

Hank reaches out and grabs Connor’s shoulder, pulling him away. “Let’s get outta here.”

You follow after them, only stopping when Kamski calls out behind you. Connor stops next to you. 

“By the way,” he says. “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know.”

You tug Connor along by his wrist. “I could’ve told you that. I know his androids like the back of my hand.”

Connor stays silent, but lets you guide him out the front door and down the snowy steps. You only let go when Hank comes to a stop in front of you. 

He leans against the railing of the stairs and looks at Connor. “Why didn’t you shoot?”

Connor takes an artificial, sharp breath. He clenches his hands into fists, then releases them. A faint memory in your mind reminds you that the Ortiz android did that in the interrogation room, when he was under stress.

“I just saw that girl’s eyes… a-and I couldn’t, that’s all,” Connor manages. 

“You’re always saying you’d do anything to accomplish your mission,” Hank says. “That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go.”

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done!” Connor snaps. “I told you, I couldn’t.”

He faces Hank, his eyebrows drawn together. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Hank looks Connor up-and-down and smiles. “Well, maybe you did the right thing.”

He walks away, back towards the car. You smile to yourself, that light feeling in your chest again. You allow yourself to feel just a bit more hope – the spark is well-maintained, but still, it grows. 

You reach out and touch Connor’s wrist. His eyes snap to yours.

[simping-for-kamski]

12 Steps of Xmas - ch 10

Read it on Ao3^^

The smell of hot butter and coffee filled the air. Hank and Leo looked happy and just a bit awkward throughout the morning, brunching over egg toast and leftovers. Leo played Merry Christmas together with Cain on the piano, Hank petted Sumo and Felis Navidad (the cat was already getting nicknamed Navi), and all of them seemed to be having a good time.

They were so engrossed with the music and singing that they didn’t hear the door chime, nor the front door opening and closing. It was Sumo who got up and reacted, hurrying into the hall and barking. It was more of a gruff sound than an alarm kind of barking, but the behavior was enough for Hank to be intrigued, get up, and see what was going on.

He heard Sumo’s name being pronounced and his heart rate picked up at once. He closed the door to the living room behind him and hurried forward.

There in the hall, there was Sumo, sitting, wagging his tail happily. In front of the dog, squatting down to be in level with him, there was someone with a beanie and a warm coat, and next to him, standing, there was another man, dressed in a neat winter coat, furred on the inside.

“Good boy…” Connor murmured and looked up at Hank, who was shocked but not paralyzed.

“You can’t stay here,” he hushed the androids, rushing up to them. “We’ve got one of those boys inside, if he sees you— It’s not safe!”

“One of those boys?” Markus repeated with suspicion.

“An RK900. Cain,” Hank filled in. “He can’t see you.”

As he said that, the door in his back opened and Leo appeared.

“Hank?” he asked, then saw the visitors, then realized who they were, or at least, who one of them was. He whispered his name. “Markus…”

He came forward too, striding, but heard footsteps behind himself too. He turned around as he kept walking backwards, spreading his arm and forming a shield with his body as he came to stand in front of Markus.

Cain stood in the doorframe. His gaze was cold. His expression was harsh.

“Cain, don’t,” Leo said. “Leave them be.”

Keep reading on Ao3

[gunnarsohn]

Über das Blau des Himmels, Jack Dorsey und die Unterstützung eines antisemitischen und rassistischen Kandidaten in den USA #Bluesky

Photo by Andreea Ch on Pexels.com Die Bluesky-App sei das Social Network der Stunde, schreibt Markus Beckedahl auf LinkedIn. “In der vergangenen Woche hat es einen massiven Nutzer:innen-Exodus von Twitter Richtung des blauen Himmels gegeben. Das hab ich so bisher noch nicht erlebt. Aber ich habe leider wenig Hoffnung.” Die Sorge von Markus ist berechtigt. Die privatisierten Öffentlichkeiten des…